Chapter Eight.
While on our passage in the canoe a storm arises.—We are driven far away to leeward of the island.—Abela instructs Tofa in the truth.—Scarcity of food and water.—Our sufferings become intense.—The native crew give way to despair.
Although the sea was rough the canoe had made good progress towards our destination when night came on. The wind had been increasing, and I saw the natives looking anxiously at the sky, which had become overcast. The darkness was intense, and we had no compass in the canoe by which to direct our course. The native boatmen, however, continued steering on, trusting to the wind, which had remained steadily blowing from one quarter. Still, as the waves rose, and our frail canoe pitched and tossed about, it seemed to me that she would be unable to accomplish the passage.
Abela was sitting by us. “Alas,” she exclaimed, “we have escaped the fury of our enemies only, I fear, to perish in the waves.”
“Nay, nay, Abela,” said Maud. “God, who has protected us heretofore, can protect us still. He will find a way for us to escape if it is His will that we should do so.”
“Ah, you are right,” answered Abela, “and I am weak and faithless to doubt His love.”
Still I must confess that it required much strong faith not to feel nervous and alarmed while we saw the dark foaming seas rising up around us, and apparently every moment about to overwhelm our little vessel. The crew had lessened the sail, but yet it seemed scarcely capable of withstanding the furious blasts which struck it. Maud and I, with Abela and the other women, sat close together in the little hut on deck. I observed that Mr Norton and Tofa had come nearer us as if to try and prevent us from being washed away should a sea break on board, which it appeared too probable would occur. The canoe was excessively buoyant, or she could not have escaped being overwhelmed. Onward she continued to fly over the tumbling waters, and we at length, becoming accustomed to the movement of the vessel, began to hope that she would reach the shore in safety, and already the crew were looking out in the expectation of seeing it ahead.
All our hopes were to be disappointed. A furious blast struck the sail, and before it could be lowered it was torn away, with the spars which supported it, and we were left helpless on the wild ocean. To attempt to use the paddles in such a sea was useless. The helmsman had turned the head of the canoe away from the wind, and all that now could be done was to fly before it. The gale increased. On we went, expecting every moment that the seas would overwhelm us.
We could sit quiet and pray, but I felt much for our poor heathen crew, who had no such consolation. Abela had called young Tofa to her side, and was endeavouring to explain to him the glorious truths of the faith she held, he seemed greatly struck by her calm resignation.