“What, Mr Paget, is every spark of light we see a living creature?” asked May.
“Yes, indeed,” was the answer. “And probably we see at a time not a thousandth part of the number of those which are floating around.”
The ship all this time had been standing over towards the coast of South America, then to steer parallel with it, till, feeling the influence of the trade winds, she was to keep eastward towards her destination. Hitherto good progress had been made, and a rapid passage was expected; but near the Tropic of Capricorn the wind fell, till a dead calm rested on the ocean; gradually every ripple was (as Mrs Clagget expressed it) smoothed out of the water. The sails hung idly down against the masts, chips of wood thrown overboard floated alongside, the sun struck down with terrific force, the whole sea shining like a sheet of burnished gold. The passengers could no longer bear the heat below; and when they came on deck, and sought whatever shade could be found, they gained but little by the change. Though the sky, after a time, became overcast, and a light steamy mist pervaded the atmosphere, the heat, rather than moderating, increased. Few on board could resist complaining. Night brought no relief. People who had appeared active enough before sat listless about the decks. Books, if open, were unread. The seamen even exhibited the same listlessness as the rest of those on board. Emily and May did their best to keep up their spirits, but their efforts were unavailing. Captain Westerway and Bill Windy were among the few who appeared unaffected. Mr Paget, also exerting himself to the utmost, went about his usual occupations, and endeavoured to revive the spirits of his companions. It was evident, however, that unless a breeze should spring up some evil consequences would too probably ensue. Day after day the ship floated on the glassy sea, no sail in sight, the only object ever visible beyond her deck being some wandering tropic bird, which might be seen hovering on high, watching with keen sight for its prey.
The surgeon appeared one morning with a grave face, to make his report to the captain. Several of the steerage passengers were on the sick list. As the day wore on, others were added to them: some, he feared, were cases of malignant fever. They were removed to a part of the ship screened off to serve as an hospital. Nothing else could be done except to fumigate the “between-decks,” that operation rather adding to the heat than otherwise. The cabin passengers at length became alarmed.
“Oh, dear, what shall we do if there is fever?” exclaimed Mrs Clagget to her young companions. “We must take care that no one ever comes near us.”
No one was more alarmed than Mr Job Mawson; for, in spite of the heat, he shut himself up in his cabin, and was afraid of coming in contact even with the steward, lest he should have passed near any of the sick emigrants. Mr Paget, on the contrary, was more active than ever; he, without hesitation, spent many hours of each day visiting those stricken down by disease, and endeavouring to rouse the spirits of those who had hitherto escaped. Charles Dicey, in spite of Mrs Clagget’s warnings, accompanied him, and gave every assistance in his power to the surgeon. Day after day others were added to the numbers already suffering from fever. One poor woman, the mother of a family, sank beneath it, and it was a sad spectacle to all on deck as the body, secured in canvas, and heavily weighted, was committed to the deep. The voice of Captain Westerway, generally so firm, trembled as he read the funeral service. Another and another followed. At last the good captain entreated Mr Paget to perform the painful duty for him. How every one longed for a breeze to carry the fever-stricken ship out of that inhospitable region! It was supposed that the disease must have been brought on board, and had only now developed itself, as the poor woman who had just died had been ill when she left England.
Emily and May had at first listened to Mrs Clagget’s advice, but when so many women and children became ill, they could no longer refrain from assisting in nursing them. Fearlessly they sat by the side of the sick, reading to the elder ones, and trying to soothe and comfort the younger children. Several children of the first poor woman who had died followed their mother to her watery grave.
Charles at first tried to persuade his sisters that they were not called upon to risk their health.
“Then why do you risk yours, brother?” asked Emily. “Your life, surely, is as precious as ours. You would get on very well without us, but we should be forlorn creatures indeed if left alone. I am sure we are but doing our duty, and there is One above who will protect us.”
“But I am more hardy than you are,” argued Charles. “I can go aloft, too, and get any germs of fever which I might have contracted blown away.”