"Maybe you think it was a hard time for me, Miss Hilda, but I'll tell you who it was worse for—it was worse for Polly, and Granny, and the bairns. They all turned out, poor souls, after I left, and stood at the edge of the pier, with the wind blowing in their faces, looking out over the dark sea trying to catch the first sight of our boat. And when at last they saw the steamer making for the pier, they, and the old sailors standing with them, and all the wives and lasses of the other men, raised such a shout of joy that we heard it, Master Stanley, above the raging of the storm. I often seem to hear that shout in my dreams even now."
FRIENDS IN DISTRESS.
"But poor Polly wasn't happy yet. Maybe the boat's coming, but not Jonah, she thought. And Granny caught hold of her shawl and cried 'Look, Polly, my dear, is my lad aboard, dost thou think?' It was Jess that first caught sight of me, bless her. 'There's my daddy, Mother!' she cried; 'God's brought him safe home again.' Then away they all rushed to the landing-place, to be ready to meet us:—all the wives and children, Polly, and Jess, and Harry, and even little Magpie. Polly took her from a neighbour's arms, and brought her to meet me."
"Oh, what a meeting we all had, Miss Hilda, down there on the shore! It was almost like getting me back from the dead, Polly said, for she never expected to see me again. And Father's Magpie put her wee arms round my neck and screamed for joy, and Jess and Harry danced round me and clapped their hands, and Polly said 'Thank God!' and old Granny wound up with 'Amen.'"
THE LIFEBOAT-MAN'S RETURN—THE WELCOME HOME.
"But we'd had no time to think of ourselves, Master Stanley. The tug was coming ashore, and there were the poor half-drowned creatures off the wreck to be cared for. Polly had made up a big fire in the kitchen; the tide had gone down, and the floor was getting dry, and our cottage was one of those nearest the shore."
"They wanted looking after, poor things: some of them were almost dead. We carried the women in litters, and the poor bairns we took in our arms. I picked up a bonny little lassie, just about as big as our Jess. She had nothing on but her little white night-gown and a wee shawl; the children were in bed when the ship struck, and her mother had hurried her up on deck just as she was. We fetched her in the first boat, but her mother was one of the last to be saved; and she was so weak and faint when we got her aboard that some of them thought she was dead. She lay down in the bottom of the boat and took no notice of anything, and none of us knew she belonged to the child for some time after we got ashore. So Polly and me fetched this little Missy home, and Polly dressed her in our Jessie's clothes and gave her some warm coffee, and she and Jess sat chatting by the fire together as if they were two little sisters."
"I sat with my pipe in my mouth, watching them and listening to their pretty talk. I was well-nigh tired out; and, after a time, I began to nod, and I think I was dreaming, Master Stanley, I still seemed to know what the children were saying, when all at once I felt a hand on my shoulder, and, looking up, I saw Peter standing over me."