Chapter Twenty Five.
Billy and his Father Return Home.
Who can describe the strange mingling of grateful joy with bitter anguish that almost burst the heart of David Bright’s widow on that terrible night!
She was singing one of the “Songs of Zion,” and busy with household cares, preparing for the expected return of her husband and her son, when they carried Billy in.
It might be supposed that she would be anxious on such a stormy night but if the wives of North Sea fishermen were to give way to fears with every gale that blew, they would be filled with overwhelming anxiety nearly all the year round.
When the knock at the door came at last the song ceased, and when the stout fisherman entered with his burden, and a fair curl, escaping from the folds of the ulster, told what that burden was, the colour fled from the poor woman’s cheeks, and a sinking of the heart under a great dread almost overcame her.
“He’s all right, missus,” said the man, quickly.
“Thank God?” gasped Mrs Bright. “Are—are the rest safe?”
“I b’lieve they are. Some of ’em are, I know.”