Mary Liddiard; Or, The Missionary's Daughter

by William Henry Giles Kingston

We were both suddenly awakened by a fearful noise. We started up—all was dark. There came the sound of the wind howling in the trees and falling timber, and the roaring of the sea, as it dashed upon the reef with tremendous force, and rocks crashing down from the mountain heights. A hurricane was raging. We sat up trembling with alarm. My first thought was for my dear father, should he now be at sea returning to us. Then other dreadful sounds, like thunder breaking overhead. Something else terrific besides the hurricane was occurring, it seemed to us, yet we dared not leave the house for fear of being blown away by the wind. After some time we assisted each other to dress, as well as we could, in the dark, for we expected every moment that the roof would be carried off, or the house itself blown down. We remembered several hurricanes, but this appeared more violent than any that had before occurred. We had been protected during former ones, and we knew that the same power would take care of us now. I had proposed lighting the lamp, when Maud observed, should the house be blown down, it might set the thatch on fire, and the whole village would be burnt.

“Let us remain in darkness, for remember God sees us as if it was light, she said. Darkness is no darkness with Him—the day and night to Him are both alike.”

I agreed with Maud, and together we knelt down side by side to pray for protection. Although the tempest continued to rage without, our house, built by my father’s hands, stood firm. It was, like his own faith, well knit and bound together. He had not forgotten, when erecting it, that such hurricanes were likely to occur, and he had accordingly prepared for them.

So should we go through life, not trembling with the fear of misfortunes, but ready to encounter them should they overtake us.

Hour after hour seemed to pass by as we thus knelt and prayed. Every now and then we could not help starting up, as a more fearful crash than usual sounded in our ears. Still the wished-for daylight did not appear. The truth was, that since the commencement of the storm but a short time only had elapsed, though in our desolation and solitude it had appeared very long.

At length we heard a knocking at the door. I made my way, followed by Maud, to open it, when two figures appeared, and I heard the voices of Nanari and Lisele. During the moment the door was open I observed a bright glare in the sky above the waving and bending trees, but it was only for a moment, as immediately they were inside they closed the door behind them.

“Are you safe, are you uninjured?” they exclaimed. “We could not bear to leave you all alone, and, trusting to Jehovah’s protection, we ventured up here, hoping to comfort you.”

We thanked them for coming, and I led the way into our sitting-room. “What dreadful event is occurring in addition to the hurricane?” I asked. “Can the forest be on fire?”

“The mountain has burst forth, and is sending up stones and ashes into the air, while hot streams of lava are flowing down its sides,” answered Nanari. “Not one but many forests may be burned, but we are in the hands of Jehovah, and should not fear, my daughter.”

I inquired whether he thought that the ashes or streams of lava might reach as far as the settlement, he believed that, shut in as we were, by a separate range of hills, that the lava at all events would not run down towards us; though, with regard to the ashes and stones, how far they might be carried, he could not say, and again he added the same consolation he had before offered.