"Oh yes, my dear; I think we will come back again all right. Don't make yourself miserable for nothing," said her husband.
"Do you not care, William, that you leave me a desolate widow, with none to provide for me? You are wicked to go. It is tempting Providence, and you ought to be afraid to do it," said the wife, through her tears.
"Hush! mother dear," said Grace. "Indeed, we must go. How can we remain quietly here, while our fellow creatures are crying out for help?"
"Grace, you are a foolish girl; you ought not to urge your father to lose his life, nor to be so willing to risk your own. Think of me, and what I shall do if both of you are drowned."
It was, after all, the natural cry of such a woman as Mrs. Darling. It is not every body that can bear to risk a beloved life, that the lives of strangers may be saved. The wife of the lighthouse-keeper was very sorry for the poor wretches who were clinging to the rock in the cold and rain; but why should her own home be put in jeopardy that they might be rescued! How many women, the wives of soldiers, or sailors, or missionaries, have felt the same? And yet it is generally the cause of right and humanity that wins the day.
Mrs. Darling clung to her husband as if she would not let him go, but Grace remained true and steadfast to her noble purpose, and only waited till the mother grew a little more calm, to press the matter again, and before long they could see that she half-yielded. That was enough!
"Good-bye, mother. God will bring us back to you in safety, never fear; and no doubt we shall bring some poor half-drowned creatures with us, so you had better get the beds warmed and have everything comfortable," said Grace, in strong, cheering tones.
Mrs. Darling found that all her beseeching was in vain; and she could only hope for the best, and keep herself as quiet as possible. She was, however, half-frantic with fear, as she bade them good-bye, and then watched, with streaming eyes, the fragile little boat venture out upon the awful waters. And yet she could not but feel that they were doing rightly, and at the last she had herself helped to launch the boat. But she wrung her hands as she saw them go, and prayed earnestly to God that he would indeed take care of them, and bring them safely back to her.
It is said that Grace was the first to seize an oar, and spring into the boat; but her father, who was a brave man, quickly followed, and the two were soon working together in harmony. They scarcely spoke at first, William Darling only giving Grace a few directions with regard to the management of the boat, and then both used their utmost endeavours to propel her towards the desired spot.
One moment we must linger to look at the heroic girl as she sits firmly in the boat, with a steady light in her eyes, lips firmly compressed, and strong brave heart. Could we have seen Grace Darling in more attractive guise? The thunderous waves were leaping and foaming around the little boat; the dark clouds were lowering, and the winds blowing furiously. The afrighted sea-birds looked at them, and screamed shrilly as they saw the boat rocked to and fro, now leaping on the top of a wave that tossed it high, and now sinking down, down, as if it were going to the very bottom of the deep. But Grace was not afraid. She scarcely thought of the danger; for her heart and sympathy were with those who were on the rock. Long before she got to them, her imagination pictured the patient faces, full of pain, which would grow bright when they saw her; and as she thought of them, her arm gained new strength, and she went on again more energetically than before. Was she, indeed, a girl? Had she sisters, who cried out if a pain touched them, and who were always helplessly appealing to men for help? Did she know what fear was? Yes; she knew that she would always be afraid of her own thoughts, if she did not what she could to rescue the shipwrecked strangers.