Those who make long voyages must needs put up with short courtships, and Billy Bunting had not been many days acquainted with Miss Smith before she had promised to be his, and the marriage was duly solemnised at the Little Bethel, Lancington St., by Mr. Morth, the esteemed pastor of that conventicle. They spent the day at Gravesend, enjoying its natural and artificial beauties, including the Rosherville Gardens, where they were almost as happy as the advertisements of that pleasaunce would lead one to suppose. And then they returned to their humble lodging in Belt Alley, E.
Alas! for the brevity of human happiness. Poor Polly Andrews was no sooner married to her Jack Tarpey than the Promise of the May was ordered on a twelve months’ voyage. And Polly Smith has been but a brief fortnight the adored wife of Billy Bunting when the Avalanche is ready to go sailing about the world for a similar period. But, cheer up, brave hearts! Courage, dear souls!
“There’s a sweet little Cherub that sits up aloft
To keep watch o’er the life of poor Jack.”
And the little Cherub who, from that elevated position, is solicitous concerning the well-being of poor Jack, will no doubt exhibit an equal solicitude in the case of poor Billy Bunting. But it is useless to preach philosophy to breaking hearts. It was a sad scene that which took place on the quay as Polly bid her Bill adieu. She could but hope; he could but hope, and a year after all is only three hundred and sixty-five miserable little days. It will soon be over.
But the Avalanche was not to be a year out of port.
And here comes the interesting part of this strange narrative.
At the beginning of September, in the year of which I am writing, a very violent and lasting gale burst over certain Northern latitudes. And nowhere was that gale felt more severely than in the Bay of Biscay. Many lives were lost in that ill-omened water—for why it should be called a “Bay” while the Adriatic is called a “Sea,” I have never since the happy days of boyhood been able to discover. The waves rose mountains high, the wind blew a hurricane, and everything that out-lived the first fury of the elements scudded along under bare poles. That everything did not out-live the first fury of the elements will appear presently.
One of the vessels encountering that memorable storm was the Avalanche. She encountered it, and overcame it, but with considerable loss to herself. Her mainmast had been snapped in two like a brittle twig. Her canvas was in shreds, part of her bulwarks was swept away, and the pumps were continually at work, to lessen the volume of water that half filled her hold. Though all was calm now, she could not move.
“There she lay” several days, “in the Bay of Biscay O!” At last the inevitable “sail in sight appeared.” It was a sail however that promised no assistance. For when examined through the glass it appeared to be a raft, with a solitary human being on board. There was much speculation as it bore down upon them; at last the raft touched the Avalanche, and its sole occupant, worn out with hunger, thirst, anxiety, and fear, was helped up the side of the Avalanche, and fell upon the deck in a faint that looked uncommonly like death. Unremitting attention and a judicious administration of rum brought him to; and when he was sufficiently restored he informed his rescuers that his name was Jack Tarpey, of the Promise of the May; which doomed vessel having encountered the late gales in the Bay succumbed to the last and worst, and went down with all hands, save three who had taken to the raft, His two companions had died of cold and exhaustion. He alone survived of all the crew.
Billy Bunting was a tender-hearted fellow, and “took to” this shipwrecked mariner. They became indeed such chums that Jack bade fair to forget the excellent Joey Copper: now no more. At last relief came to the Avalanche, and the disabled vessel was assisted on her homeward way. As the days sped on, the friendship between Jack and Billy increased. They had a bond of sympathy in common. Both had married Polls, and both these Polls lived in Belt Alley, E.