Harry’s anxiety increased greatly when he saw the threatening aspect of the weather. The ship had been brought as close to the wind as possible, in order to allow the boats with less risk to lie alongside. A heavy sea now struck her bows; driving her astern, and threatening to bring her down upon the launch. Not a moment was to be lost, Harry saw, or the destruction of the boat and all on board would be inevitable. With a heavy heart he gave the order to cut the warp to which she hung. “Out oars, and pull her head round,” he added. The mast had been stepped. “Hoist the fore-staysail,” he exclaimed, and the boat’s head began paying round. Another heavy foam-topped sea came rolling up with a dark black cloud overhead; he held his breath, for he dreaded lest it should break on board. The men tugged at their oars. They, too, saw the danger. The ladies could not refrain from uttering a cry of dismay. Even Mrs Rumbelow kept her lips firmly set as she eyed the foaming mass. Paul Lizard had the fore-halyards in his hand. Up went the foresail, and as it filled with the gale the boat’s head rapidly came round. Away she flew before the wind; the threatening sea roared and hissed under her stern, but failed to overtake her. On she flew, now rising, now falling, amid the tumbling seas. Harry had need to exercise all his seamanship to save her from being overwhelmed; as it was, the seas broke frequently close to her quarters, sending into her heavy masses of foaming water. To attempt to heave to and remain by the ship, as Harry had proposed, would have been madness. Already she had been left far astern. Willy had watched her anxiously. Now she seemed to rise amid the dark waters, now to sink deep down; and more than once Willy thought the “Ranger” had gone for ever. He could scarcely refrain from uttering an expression of horror. There were other eyes besides his in the boat, who were looking towards the ship. Poor Mrs Morley and her two daughters sat with their hands clasped together, not a word escaping their lips; but though they were silent, their hearts were lifted up in prayer, and they seemed to have forgotten the hardships in store for them, and their own danger, while thinking of that to which Colonel Morley was exposed.
Another boat under sail was seen standing in the wake of the launch, supposed to be the first cutter. What had become of the other boats could not be discovered. Very probably, they too had gone down, overwhelmed by the heavy sea from which the larger boats had so narrowly escaped. The dark cloud now burst over the spot where the devoted ship lay, rising and falling amid the dark heaving seas, a dense shower of sleet and rain, like a thick veil, completely shrouding her. Willy strained his sharp eyes, but in vain; the “Ranger” was not to be seen, and he could only just distinguish the white sail of the cutter struggling after them through the tumbling seas.
On, on they flew; a sense of their own danger seemed to have absorbed the thoughts of most on board. Scarcely an observation was made regarding the fate of their companions; even the little baby which had been so wonderfully preserved was for the time neglected, the woman who held it appearing scarcely aware that she had the child in her arms.
“Come, come, Sarah, what are you about?” exclaimed Mrs Rumbelow, “are you going to let that baby drop into the bottom of the boat, and be drowned. You had better give it to me, poor little dear.” Thus aroused, the woman once more bestowed her attention on the little stranger. Mrs Morley, overcome by her feelings, had at length given way, and lay in an almost fainting state in her daughter’s arms. Her condition had not escaped Mrs Rumbelow’s observation. The sergeant’s wife leaned forward towards her. She was sitting at no great distance. “Come, rouse up, Mrs Morley, marm,” she exclaimed, taking the poor lady’s hands, and chafing them with her own somewhat hard palms. “It is God’s will, dear lady, that we are here. He’ll take care of those we left on board. I, too, would lief have remained with my good-man; but he ordered me to come, and I have always obeyed orders since I entered the army, as I call it, and that’s a good score of years ago. When we have done our duty, to my mind, we should be content; and feel sure that all will go right. I don’t say what we call right, but what God knows to be right and best; that’s it, marm.”
Poor Mrs Morley opened her eyes. “Thank you,” she faintly said. “You speak kindly. I know all is for the best.”
Mrs Twopenny and the other married women in the boat, having their husbands with them, were more inclined to think about themselves than those they had left in the hapless ship. The crew were not idle, for they had plenty to do in bailing the boat and tending the sails. Harry saw the necessity, in order to prevent the boat from being swamped, of carrying as much sail as she could bear; and even then, as he cast his eye astern, he dreaded lest any of the foaming seas which came rolling up might break on board. Could he have kept her head to the seas she might have been safer, but the danger of heaving her to was so great that he dared not attempt it; and, under present circumstances, he judged it more prudent to run before the gale. All he could hope, therefore, was that the wind might moderate again as rapidly as it had risen. His next care was to make some arrangement for the accommodation of the poor women. He called Dr Davis aft, and consulted him about the matter. It was agreed that an awning should be rigged in the centre part of the boat, over an oar a little higher than the gunwale, so as to leave room for the crew to pass on either side; and though this would afford them but a very narrow space, still they would be sheltered from the cold and rain and spray. Fortunately, a spare sail had been thrown into the boat, which would serve for this purpose; there were also several planks and small spars which had not been thrown out of her when she was lowered; and these spread out would serve as a flooring to keep them out of the wet. Among other things was a roll of blankets and several cloaks. These, spread out, would serve for beds. The crew gladly gave up all claim they might have on them for the sake of the poor women.
Several hours passed; and though the wind and sea had slightly gone down, no other change had occurred.
“Now, marm,” said Mrs Rumbelow, as soon as the awning was prepared; “we must take possession of our house. It is not a very grand one, but we’re thankful to those who built it for us.”
“Oh, my husband! my husband!” was the only answer poor Mrs Morley could make.
“I have a husband, too, marm,” said Mrs Rumbelow. “The sergeant and I, though old folks, love each other as much as any young folks can do. We have long known that any day, with the chances of war, we might be separated, and by many another chance too, though. I have followed him pretty well round the world, to look after him, and now the time has come which we well knew might come, though I cannot say that I feel it the less on that account. It’s hard to bear, Mrs Morley, that it is; but if it’s God’s will that we are not to see our husbands again, we must submit, marm. Still, you know, marm, it may not be His will to take them from us. He can preserve them if He thinks fit; and if so, we shall meet them again. That’s what keeps me up.”