"Thank you for that, my child. The May Queen's got five feet of water in her well, because she got damaged in that gale. So far we're managing to pump the water out as fast as the water comes in. D'you follow me?"
"Yes," fluttered to her lips.
"So far, so good. Don't worry. Try not to trouble your heads about this thing at all. Just say to yourselves, 'The captain's at the helm.' All that can be done is being done, young ladies. And," pointing upwards, "the other CAPTAIN'S aloft."
He was gone. In a dazed way I heard Dr. Atherton saying something to Sylvia. And a few minutes after that he, too, had disappeared. "Gone," Sylvia said in an awe-struck whisper, "to work in his turn at the pumps."
No need to wonder now at that unceasing "Thud! thud!" The noise of it not only sounded in our ears, it struck us like blows on our hearts.
We crept up on deck. We could breathe there. We could see. Oh! how awful was the thought of going down, down—drowning in the cabin below!
Air, and light, and God's sky was above. And we prayed to the Captain aloft.
The sea was so calm that danger, after having weathered that fearful gale, seemed almost impossible to us. The blue water reflected the blue heaven above; and when the setting sun cast a rosy light over the sky, the sea caught the reflection as well.
It was beautiful.
"It doesn't seem so dangerous now, Sylvia," I whispered, "as it felt during the gale."