“And when, after months had gone by, the band who had left them, and turned as they believed their laces homeward, came back to the ship broken and discouraged with all they had passed through, he gave them a brother’s welcome, and gladly shared with them the little that was left of food and fire and comfort, and doubled his cares and labours for their sakes.
“As time went on, death came to some, and the rest waited, hardly hoping to escape his call. But the greater number won through at last. They had to leave their good ship ice bound still, and then they took their way, through many toilsome days, over that wide desolation of ice and snow, going slowly and painfully because of the sick and the maimed among them, till at last they came to the open sea. Then trusting themselves to their boats, broken and patched, and scarcely seaworthy by this time, they sailed on for many days, making southward as the great fields of floating ice opened to let them through,—and still oh, after the sea was clear, till they came to land where Christian people received them kindly, and here they rested for a while.
“And one day they sailed out on the sea to meet a great ship that came sailing up from the south, and over this ship the flag of their country was flying; and as they drew near, one looked down on their little boat and said, ‘Is this Doctor Kane?’ And then, of course, their troubles were over, and soon they were safe at home.”
No one spoke for a little while. Phemie brought in the lights, and then Jean laid down her knitting, and came to the table to make the tea. After that Mr Dawson went to his own room, and Hugh lay musing or dreaming on the rug till it was time for him to go to bed. It was when Jean went to say good-night to her father before she went to bed that he spoke to her.
“You will be making a sailor of the lad—with all that foolish singing and talk about heroes and sea kings. What on earth has set you off on that tack? The sea! the sea! and nothing but the sea! His father would be ill-pleased, I can tell you; for Hugh is a clever lad, and he has other views for him.”
Jean had nothing to say for herself, and took her father’s rebuke humbly and in silence. She had not thought for a moment of influencing the lad towards the life of a sailor; and when she had taken a minute to consider the matter, she was quite sure that no harm had been done, and so she assured her father.
“I would send the lad home, rather than run the risk,” said he with some vexation.
“Yes, it would be better,” said Jean. “But there is no risk. Hugh is older than his years, and he has taken his bent already, or I am much mistaken. Whether it will be according to his father’s will, I cannot say; but there is no danger of his turning his thoughts to the sea. He might like to visit strange countries, if the way were open to him; and with opportunity he might become a great naturalist, for his knowledge of all natural objects and his delight in them is wonderful.”
To this Mr Dawson had nothing to say. And indeed it was not about Hugh that he was at that moment troubling himself; but his trouble was not to be spoken about to Jean, and with rather a gruff good-night he let her go. But he could not put his trouble out of his thoughts. It had been there before, though he had almost forgotten it for a while.
“The sea! the sea! and ay the sea!” repeated he discontentedly. “What can have come to the lassie? She has no one on the sea to vex her heart about, unless indeed—she may fancy—that her brother is there,” and the shadow that always came with thoughts of his son, fell darkly on his face. “Or—unless—but that can hardly be. There is no one, and she has sense. And yet—her brother—”