Little Miss Joy Part 10

"You must not see her; she has to be kept very quiet."

"Oh! what shall I do? what shall I do?" Bet exclaimed.

"Pray for her," was the reply, "and trust in G.o.d's love whichever way it goes with her." And then, moved to deep pity for poor Bet, Mrs.

Harrison stooped and kissed her, and went into the little shop.

CHAPTER VIII.

_IN PERIL OF THE SEA._

The _Galatea_ was a good sailing vessel, loaded with goods, and was bound for Constantinople. She was a trading vessel, with a few pa.s.sengers who paid a moderate sum for their berths, and were provided with very fair accommodation on board.

Jack certainly proved himself a good sailor. As soon as the first misery of sea-sickness was over, he made himself very useful to the crew generally, and to d.i.c.k Colley in particular.

"He is worth his biscuit, captain," Colley said one day. "A sharp lad, eh?"

"Yes, and a handy one too. It's well for you that you have had that boy to help you, with your lame leg; and you are trying to make him one of your sort, I see."

"One of my sort! No. I hope a long sight better than my sort, captain. I am but a beginner, learning the alphabet late in life; but, please G.o.d, I'll stumble on following Him, and I hope I may get others to follow Him too."

"You needn't look for me in that following, Colley; but you are welcome to the boy. It is all very fine to preach about G.o.d's love and care for us when the sea is stirred by a pleasant breeze, just enough to give us a capful of wind, and we are making our proper knots an hour straight for port; but when the waves are roaring, and the timbers of the s.h.i.+p groaning and creaking, and we know not but that we may go to the bottom any minute--don't tell me it is G.o.d's love then, when poor fellows are fighting the waves for life, knowing that if they are drowned they leave wife and child poor and desolate. No, no, Colley; that motion won't hold water."

"Begging your pardon, captain," said Colley, "it's better to trust in the Lord's love in a storm, than curse, and swear, and shriek as you and I have seen some of our mates take on, in mortal terror. You can't deny that."

"I deny nothing," was the reply. "I am content to let things take their course, and religion with the rest. Let them pray who like; it's no odds to me."

Jack had been near during this conversation; and as the captain turned on his heel and took up his position again at the helm, Colley called Jack.

"Were you within ear-shot just now, boy?"

"Yes," Jack said. "I heard what you and the captain were saying. My mother talks as you talk; and as to little Miss Joy, she is always singing hymns, and loves taking Uncle Bobo's hand and trotting to church with him. I wish you could see little Miss Joy; you would love her as much as I do."

"P'r'aps I may see her one day. She is a pretty little thing, you say?"

"Pretty!" Jack said; "she is a great deal more than pretty. Her eyes are like the sky; and how she can laugh, to be sure! it's like silver bells ringing. Many a time, when I have been half wild with Aunt Amelia's grating tongue, I have run over to Mr. Boyd's, and Joy has put me right. She would always be on the watch for me when I came back from school, and she calls my mother 'Goody,' and she is just like a little daughter to her. Then when there were sharp words between Mr.

Boyd and his old servant, Joy made peace. She would climb on Uncle Bobo's knee, and kiss him, and put her hand before his mouth, and beg him to be quiet, and not get angry with Susan, because hard words did no good."

"That's true, boy--that's true; and now I want to know what you are going to do when we are safe in port? Go home and show you are sorry, eh?"

"Not home to my aunt's house; I'd rather break stones. Look here, she just makes me feel wretched, as little Miss Joy makes me feel good."

"Ah, boy, that's the wrong end of the stick--the feeling good and wicked, as you say. No, no; 'goodness,' as you call it, don't depend on little Miss Joy, or wickedness on sharp-tempered viragos like you say your aunt is. It is the _heart_, boy. If that is turned to G.o.d, then we may hope to keep straight, by watching and praying; but it is a fight, boy, as I find. As I told you, I find it hard enough to curb my tongue; for it is like a s.h.i.+p flying afore the wind, with no rudder and no pilot. Off I go, and the words drop from my lips like mad! But I pray for help to bridle my tongue, and I cry to G.o.d for pardon every time I take His blessed name in vain. Don't you learn bad ways aboard.

Most of the crew are steady young fellows. One or two of 'em are on the right track; but that man who kicked you when you came aboard, you beware of him. He is more dangerous when he is friendly than when he's your enemy. So don't listen to him; it won't do you no good."

Amongst the pa.s.sengers was a sweet-faced woman, with her little boy.

Jack took greatly to the child. He reminded him of Miss Joy, and he would take his hand and lead him about the s.h.i.+p, and show off Toby's tricks for his amus.e.m.e.nt.

The woman was on her way to Cairo to join her husband, who had a place there in an English family as courier and valet. She had been sent home by the doctors for her health, and was now on her outward-bound voyage, with her little son.

She soon found that Jack was trustworthy, and she allowed her little Peter to be with him whenever Jack had time to amuse him. Old Colley, too, would set him on his knee, and tell him stories of the sea, and the names of the sea-birds, which often followed the s.h.i.+p, and would sometimes pounce down on any bit of biscuit or salt meat which might be on deck.

It was a pretty sight when little Peter's golden hair rested against Colley's blue jersey, and the child would put up his hand and stroke the stubby beard of his new friend, and say--

"I shall be a sailor when I grow up. I love the sea."

Then Colley would stroke his head and say--"In calm weather it's pleasant enough, boy. You wait till you have seen a storm."

The voyage out promised well till they came to the Bay of Biscay, when contrary winds and a storm drove the _Galatea_ to take refuge in the port of Lisbon.

The captain was anxious to make his way to Constantinople, and against the advice of Colley and the second mate sailed out from Lisbon in rough weather.

"The storm is over," he said, "and I've no time to spend with the men kicking their heels aboard, or going ash.o.r.e to get into mischief."

So the orders were given, and the _Galatea_ went curtesying over the billows, under a bright sky, with all sails set.

"We are in the track of a storm, and if I'm not mistaken," Colley said, "we shall find ourselves in a worst plight before forty-eight hours have come and gone. I never saw the moon look as she did last night without a meaning."

But for that night Colley's prophecy seemed to be unfulfilled. The wind sank, the sea became like gla.s.s, and the _Galatea_ made but little progress. The weather was intensely hot, and the nights scarcely cooler than the days.

It was on the evening of the second day, after sailing out of the port of Lisbon, that Colley asked Jack if he saw a dark line drawn along the horizon.

"Yes," Jack said, "I see."

"That's the storm coming, and it will be upon us fast enough."

The captain, who was standing at his post with his gla.s.s, saw it also, and very soon orders were shouted to reef sails, and "every man to his post."

Before a landsman could believe it possible, the mysterious dark line had spread over the sky, and there was a hissing sound as of coming breakers. Then a swift forked flash struck across the waters, and was followed by a peal of thunder which was deafening. In another quarter of an hour the waves were roaring, and the noise of the thunder and the gathered blackness of darkness were awful.

The _Galatea_ was well manned, and every one of the crew held gallantly to their post. The captain encouraged the frightened pa.s.sengers, and tried to quiet their fears.

Jack obeyed orders, and never flinched from his duty.

Presently the angry billows broke with terrific violence over the poor _Galatea_, and she bowed herself in her distress till the masts and timbers creaked, and every time she went down into the deep valleys between the mountainous waves, it seemed impossible that she should right herself again.

"We are in great peril, boy," Colley said in Jack's ear, or rather he shouted the words at the pitch of his voice. "You put your trust in G.o.d, and He will hear your cry."

Ah! in moments of dire distress and fear, the soul that has before been dumb cries unto G.o.d. Poor frail mortals think they can do very well without G.o.d, when skies are blue, and all things, golden, bright, and prosperous; but in the hour of death, and in all times of tribulation, few indeed are to be found who do not cry to G.o.d for refuge and deliverance.

Jack stood face to face with death, and he knew it. All his short life seemed to rise clearly before him, and his mother's face as he knelt to repeat his little prayer at her knee in childish days. His mother! she had been left a widow, although she could not believe it; his mother!

to whom he should have been a stay and comfort, deserted, because he had been a coward, and could not meet the trials of his daily life--his aunt's sharp tongue, and Mr. Skinner's side-hits.

He had run away to sea to escape these, to please himself--and this was the end. Oh! his mother! his mother! Had he not seen her watch and wait for his father's return? and had he not seen the lines of care deeping on her sweet face? And now he had added to her sorrow, and could never hear her words of forgiveness.

All this pa.s.sed through Jack's mind far more quickly than I can write it here, or you can read it; and hot tears mingled with the cold, salt spray, which drenched him through and through as he stood firm by the rope which was entrusted to him.