I fortunately had plenty of berths. The steward set to work to get them ready, and the cook meantime was busy in preparing hot soup and arrowroot, and other things which he thought might conduce to the comfort of my unexpected guests. Having served in passenger ships, I was at no loss what to do, and the mates and I turning out our wardrobes, supplied clothing which might serve while that of the party was washed in fresh water and dried.
The night was stormy, and I was obliged constantly to be on deck, but whenever I went below, I visited poor Henri, who was suffering much. I did all I could to relieve him, and directed my steward, who was a trustworthy man, to remain by his side during my absence.
The next day the weather moderated, and I was thankful to find the rest of the party greatly recovered. They all expressed their gratitude to me for the attention I paid to their relative.
“You forget,” I answered, “that he is an old schoolfellow, and that I have the greatest satisfaction possible in being of service to him.”
“Ah, you must be the friend then of whom he has often spoken to us, who was so kind to him at school,” observed Emilie. “We have so longed to see you, to return the kindness you showed him when he was a boy, and we hope to do so, as he said you promised to pay us a visit should you ever come to the West Indies.”
I replied that I should be very glad to avail myself of the invitation he had given me, could I manage to do go, but that I feared my duty would not allow me to leave the ship on that voyage.
Henri appeared to get much better during the day. While I sat by him, he repeated the invitation his sister had given me, and entreated me to visit them, saying, his father and mother, he was sure, would be most anxious to see me.
None of the rest of the party suffered much from the exposure and alarm to which they had been subjected.
Within a week we were safely at anchor in Carlisle Bay, on the shore of which, Bridgetown, the capital of the beautiful island of Barbadoes, is situated.