“For a thousand years in Thy sight are but as yesterday when it is past, and as a watch in the night.”
The words had a new and solemn meaning to her. Yesterday was her thousand years—this was her watch in the night—and it would pass as a tale that is told. Involuntarily she turned to the bookcase behind her, and took the Bible from the little library of books which she had laughingly described as “a curious assortment.” It was her intent to find the psalm containing that awe-inspiring verse, and read the whole of it, but, in turning over the leaves, she came upon a scrap of paper with notes on it. The handwriting was scholarly and legible. She thought that Captain Courtenay would probably write just such a hand. Though her cheeks tingled a little at the memory of the words in his sister’s letter, there was no harm in reading a memorandum evidently intended to mark a passage in the book. The items were sufficiently striking:—“Meribah—a place of strife; Selah—a repetition, or sort of musical da capo.”
This stirred her to seek an explanation. She searched the two pages which opened at the marker, and, in the seventh verse of the 81st Psalm, she found the key:
“Thou calledst in trouble, and I delivered thee; I answered thee in the secret place of thunder; I proved thee at the waters of Meribah. Selah.”
The phrases were strangely appropriate to her present environment. They were almost prophetic, and there was even a sinister sound in the concluding instruction to the “chief musician upon Gittith” in this psalm of Asaph. That was the terrible feature of her vigil. There was no knowing when or how it would end. She closed the book in a state more closely approximating to hysterical fright than she had been at any previous time during that most trying night. The truth was, though she could not realize it, that her senses were far too alert, her brain too preoccupied, to permit of such an ordered task as reading. In her mind’s eye, she saw the boats, with their cowering occupants, plunging and tossing in that frenzied sea. By contrast, she was far better off on the ship. Yet, were it not for the action of some cowardly Chilean, she must have gone with Isobel and the others. It was torturing to think that her fancied security was really more perilous than the more apparent plight of the storm-tossed boats. No wonder she could not read, though the words were inspired!
And Joey was becoming restless. He danced backwards and forwards on the table where he had taken refuge from the invading flood. Indeed, the dog knew, long before Elsie, that the Kansas was afloat again. At last she noticed that the water in the cabin was gurgling to and fro, and, in the same instant, she felt the regular swing of the moving ship. She was speculating on the outcome of this new condition of affairs when the door opened and Walker thrust his lantern-jawed face within. He grinned cheerfully.
“I’ve come to fetch you to yo’ cabin, miss,” he announced. “The ship’s under weigh, an’, as yo’ pwobably winging wet, the captain says you ought to change yo’ clo’es.”
Joey followed her out, but deserted her instantly. She saw the reason, when Walker helped her to reach the bridge companion. Courtenay was in the chart-house, at the wheel. He gave her a friendly nod as she passed. Somehow, Elsie felt safe now that the ship was in the captain’s hands again.
CHAPTER VII.
UNTIL THE DAWN
Walker was about to take her to the saloon, whence an inner staircase communicated with the principal staterooms, but she knew that the door leading to the promenade deck had been left unlocked, so she signaled him to lead her the speediest way. Speak she could not. Although there was a perceptible improvement in the weather, Elsie found the wind even harder to combat than when she traversed the deck with Courtenay. This apparent contradiction arose from the fact that during their early dealing with the boats the sailors had cut away the greater part of the canvas shield rigged to protect passengers from adventurous seas.