The Two Shipmates

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Jessie sighed. “The men might have lost their lives had you not picked them up, though it was, indeed, careless of you to forget your commission,” she said. “But what I have to forgive I heartily do forgive, and I hope that you will obey Captain Mudge, and follow his advice.”

“That I will, miss, and thank you, too, for speaking so kindly to me,” answered Peter warmly. “I hope I may have a chance of showing that I am grateful, some day, though it isn’t likely, I’ll allow.”

The Amity was at length ready for sea. She was bound out to Riga for staves, a somewhat dangerous voyage in the autumn. Captain Mudge came to wish the widow and her granddaughter farewell. “I’ve got a fresh mate,” he said, “a decent lad; but he isn’t like Ralph, and I doubt if he’s much of a navigator.”

“Good-bye, Jessie, good-bye; heaven bless and protect you; keep a good heart, my girl, you’ll see Ralph back some day,” were his last words, as he wrung her hand at the porch and hurried down the road.

When he had gone, Jessie felt that she had lost the truest friend she possessed in the world next to her granny, and she could not help fearing that the days of her only relative were numbered. Every week Jessie saw a marked change in her. She could no longer get up and downstairs without the greatest difficulty, her eyesight grew worse, and her trembling fingers refused to hold a needle, while she could scarcely convey her food to her mouth. In one respect she had not changed: her mind remained clear and her trust in God as firm as ever. She knew that she was dying, though she was loth to say so to her grandchild, who would thus be left alone in the world. “God will look after the dear one,” she said often to herself; “He is ever the father of the fatherless, and will not forsake her.” She longed, however, for the return of Captain Mudge, but though it was the time for him to be back, no news had come from him. A letter at last arrived from Ralph, written from the West Indies, which gave her an account of his prospects of promotion, and cheered her up. He was well and as contented as could be, and she was thankful for that; still it compelled her to abandon all hopes of his speedy return. When his next letter arrived, giving an account of the battle and of the loss of the Eagle and of his own bitter disappointment, she was sitting by the death-bed of Mrs Treviss. Had it not been for the burning of the Eagle, Ralph might even now have been with her, but instead, he had certainly gone to that far, far off Indian Ocean, where he might be kept for years. Jessie restrained her tears that she might not disturb her grandmother’s last hours.

Mrs Treviss, who was thinking of Captain Mudge, asked faintly if he was coming.

“No hope of it, dear granny,” she answered, in a faltering voice.

“God’s will be done! Trust to Him! Trust to Him!” whispered, the old woman, closing her eyes as if she were weary and wanted sleep.

Jessie sat long watching her anxiously. There was no movement. She took her hand. It was icy cold. Her granny was dead, and she was alone in the world. The doctor some time after looked in and found the young girl still seated by the bedside. He sent a woman, Dame Judson by name, to assist her, and promised to make arrangements for the funeral, but he had a large family of his own, and could do little more except in the way of sympathy and advice. Mrs Treviss was carried to her grave, Jessie being the only mourner, while Dame Judson walked by her side to afford her support.

When she came back to her solitary home she could not for some time arouse herself from her grief, though Dame Judson, a motherly sort of woman, tried her best to console her. Jessie, however, felt that it was necessary to consider what she should do for her support. The cottage was hers, and she had about ten pounds a year left her, the interest of a sum in the hands of Messrs Grayson and Company, shipowners, of Plymouth. She could make something by her needle, but scarcely sufficient, though she was resolved to try her best. She would have let her cottage and looked for a situation as a lady’s-maid or a nursery-governess, but then should Ralph come back he would be disappointed at not finding her there, and she might not even hear of his return, so she would not entertain the idea for a moment. She might find an old lady to lodge with her, and her last idea was to open a school for little girls. She had no one to consult with. Worthy Dame Judson hadn’t an idea above charing; with her neighbours she was but slightly acquainted. Messrs Grayson and Company had paid her grandmother’s interest regularly, but were not pleasant people to speak to. They had been part owners with her father in the Dolphin, the ship in which he had been wrecked. Having neglected to insure her they had lost a good deal of money by the circumstance, and being especially narrow-minded entertained an ill feeling even for poor Jessie herself, which they exhibited whenever she went to their office. She had been to a good school in Exeter, but the lady who kept it, and who would have been of great assistance, was dead, and the school broken up.