“Then, from what you say, Captain Tracy, your opinion is opposed to the interests of the firm,” observed Mr Twigg, in a tone which showed that he was somewhat annoyed.
“I express the opinion I hold, sir, and you never found Gerald Tracy say or do anything contrary to the interests of his employers,” answered the captain firmly. “What you want to obtain, sir, is a rightful decision; and my belief and hope is that, if the insurance money were paid to you, you would have to refund it.”
“You only say what is true, captain, and you will pardon me for my remark,” exclaimed the merchant, who was really an upright and generous-hearted man. “Nothing would give me greater satisfaction than to see the Ouzel Galley coming in under charge of her young master, with or without her cargo, however much thereby Ferris, Twigg, and Cash might be out of pocket. We’ll now go and join our friends—and I beg you to believe that nothing you may say will alter the respect in which I hold you.”
The matter on which the party had been assembled was soon discussed. Some were of opinion that the Ouzel Galley had been lost; others, that she had been captured; while several held with Captain Tracy that she was still afloat, perhaps dismasted or waterlogged, but that she would in time find her way home. One fact was certain, that she had not yet made her appearance, and that nothing had been heard of her since she was seen off Bellevue on the morning of the hurricane. The important point decided was that the two parties should on no account go to law, and that they should wait a further decision till efforts had been made to discover the fate of the missing ship, should she not in the mean time return to port. Mr Ferris was informed that she had not yet arrived, and was requested to take all the steps he could devise for discovering what had become of her. Among others, he was to apply to the admiral to ascertain if any British cruisers had seen or heard of such a vessel in distress, while notice was to be sent on board every merchantman begging the master to make inquiries concerning her, or to afford any information he might already have obtained.
Captain Tracy, having concluded all the business he had to transact in Dublin, went back to Waterford. What a blessed thing is hope! Poor Norah and the widow were still supported by the expectation of the Ouzel Galley’s return, even although every one else in Waterford believed that she was long since at the bottom of the ocean. Day after day and week after week went by, and still the Ouzel Galley did not appear. Norah’s cheek was becoming thinner and paler, and the widow’s heart sadder and sadder. It seemed hard indeed to lose her only child; but she trusted in God. She knew that He orders all for the best, and not once did she allow her heart to entertain rebellious thoughts against His love and mercy. Anxiously did the captain and Norah look out for letters from Jamaica; they hoped that Gerald would send them information. At all events, it would be a satisfaction to hear from him; but since his last long letter, none arrived. News was received from other sources of a fearful insurrection in the island, but Norah got no letters from Ellen, and hearing that numerous white people had fallen victims, she began seriously to fear that her friend might be among them. The captain wrote to Dublin, but the house there had not heard from Mr Ferris. At length another report came which added much to their anxiety, and if found to be true must plunge them into deep grief. It was to the effect that his Majesty’s ship Champion, having sailed from Jamaica on a cruise, had not since been heard of.
“She’ll turn up,” exclaimed the captain, when he brought home the intelligence, which it would be useless to attempt concealing from Norah. The news appeared in print in the public papers, and an opinion was expressed that she had not been captured by the enemy, it being thought more likely that she had been capsized in a squall and gone down, or run during a dark night on one of the numerous reefs in the seas she was navigating and been dashed to pieces before any of her people could escape.
“I won’t believe it, any more than I’ll believe that the Ouzel Galley is lost,” exclaimed the captain. “Don’t give way, Norah. These newspapers tell lies; they’re published for no other object. I shouldn’t be surprised if we hear that the Champion has never been missing, and that the admiral has sent her on some particular service; probably the next packet from Jamaica will give us an account of her return to Port Royal.”
Still poor Norah could not restrain her tears. “I don’t believe that she’s lost, Norah. Don’t, now!” repeated her father. The captain, indeed, did his best to comfort her, but it was a hard matter for him; especially as he himself, notwithstanding his bold assertions, knew how likely it was that the sloop of war had really been lost. His honest heart was racked with grief as he thought that the days of his gallant young son had been cut short. Fresh despatches arrived from Jamaica, detailing the capture of several of the enemy’s ships, the return to port of various British cruisers, and the arrival of merchantmen; but not a word was said about the Champion. Further despatches arrived, which appeared in the public prints. A short paragraph alone mentioned that all hope of her safety had been given up, while another spoke somewhat pityingly of the vain notion entertained by a former commander of a well-known Jamaica trader, the Ouzel Galley, that that vessel was still in existence. “Indeed,” it continued, “go certain it is that she must be lost, that the masters and pilots of the vessels trading in those seas have ceased to make inquiries about her.”
“I hold to my opinion, notwithstanding,” exclaimed the captain; “if others refuse to help in looking for the good ship, I’ll go myself. There’s an old proverb that the man who wants a thing goes for it himself, and I’ll not believe that either Owen or Gerald are lost till I’ve had a thorough hunt for them. I’ve cash enough of my own to fit out a stout vessel, and to arm and man her too. I intended it for you, Norah, and Gerald, but there’ll be sufficient left for what you may want, my poor child, even if it comes to the worst; and you must stay at home and take care of Widow Massey—you’ve need to comfort each other.”
“No, father, if you go I will go; and go I hope you will,” said Norah. “Would that you had ten times as much fortune to fit out as many vessels to search round the shores of the whole Atlantic. And, father, you’ll take me with you? I must go; I should die with anxiety were I to remain behind. In the voyage I took with you I learnt all about a sea life. I know the various dangers I may have to go through, but I don’t fear them; I am ready to endure whatever perils you may be exposed to, and I’ll not flinch from them.”