XVIII.—THE KING'S CAMERA
NOTHER week rolled by, and found the crew of the Christina ready to say good-bye to Moorlow, and yet not ready, for most of them were very loth to go; but the captain was quite recovered, and there was no excuse for their remaining longer. Indeed, Sister Julia thought that those of their number who had sustained no very severe injuries ought to have gone before, but the men seemed anxious to stand by their captain, and she did not quite have the courage to send them off. That such a sad state of things was possible never seemed to enter the mind of any member of the crew. Without being in any sense ungrateful, they simply took everything for granted. With the exception of the captain, not one of them ever questioned where the money came from that provided so generously for their wants during those two weeks. They looked upon Sister Julia as a veritable saint, with illimitable, if not divine, resources, sent to minister to them especially; and the reverential way in which they bade her farewell showed that they so regarded her to the last.
All Moorlow was gathered at the station to see them off. Everyone who had contributed in any way to their comfort,—and there were few in Moorlow who had not—felt a sort of responsibility in giving them a cheery “send off.” Even the shabby little Croxsons were there, for had they not run on innumerable errands that morning when the crew were rescued? As the train moved away the captain stood upon the rear platform. A neat little bundle was tucked under one arm, for Nan, not forgetting her resolution, had presented him at the last moment with the warm comforter which she herself had made. The captain waved a red handkerchief until the station was entirely out of sight, and his last glance, before he turned and went into the car, was toward the hull of the Christina, which he could plainly see just where she had stranded that stormy November morning. It seemed to him as though he were saying good-bye to all his past, and with a courage that surprised him he was ready to make a new start. He was very grateful for the fact that his men were thoroughly loyal to him, and felt pretty sure that with such a crew at his service he could easily gain command of some vessel plying between Spain and the United States. So it was that with a contented smile he took a seat in the midst of his crew, and, encouraged by their captain's good cheer, the dark-eyed men soon fell to conversing in the liveliest manner in their native Spanish, much to the amusement of their fellow-passengers.
It had been a very exciting fortnight for quiet Moorlow, but in a marvellously short space of time everything settled back into the old grooves. The little church soon looked as sober and decorous as though it had never served as a temporary hospital, or known the savoury odours of a Thanksgiving dinner.
A December storm had beaten the Christina's hull literally to pieces, and nothing was left to tell the story of the wreck save the shell which had been shot out with the whip-line, and which Captain Murray, according to custom, had lettered and dated, and hung in the Life-saving Station; a trophy of which the crew had good reason to be proud.
The children had resumed their lessons, and Regie was counting the days till Papa and Mamma Fairfax would board the homeward-bound steamer at Liverpool. The three months, which had seemed a long time to look forward to, had slipped away very quickly, and Harry and Nan and himself were full of joyous anticipation, for a glorious plan was on foot.