Sea and Shore Part 8

"In view of such a catastrophe as that before us, all distinctions fade, Miss Lamarque. This is the last meal any one will take on the s.h.i.+p Kosciusko--she is doomed! The woman might as well get strength for the chance of saving herself and child. I doubt whether any second table will be spread to-day!" I spoke with anguish.

"You cannot believe this! Why, after what the captain said, days may go by before any real danger manifests itself! s.h.i.+ps must pa.s.s in the interval--many s.h.i.+ps may pa.s.s to-day, within a few hours, ready for our relief, if needed; and see, the smoke has ceased to curl about your broken main-mast! That shows convincingly that the fire is being gotten under--extinguished, probably."

"Oh, no! no! no! not with that low, terrible roaring in the hold. The fire is gaining strength, and our agony will soon he over."

I sat with, clasped hands and bowed head before her, insensible to her words. I suppose she strove to strengthen me. I think she tried to soothe. Failing in both, she rose and went away, and in her place came Christian Garth, relieved from the helm, and stood a moment beside me.

"Don't be down-hearted, young gal, an' wait for me. Ef the Lord lets me, I will save you, and the old lady, too; that is, ef she is your aunt or mother or near of kin."

I shook my head drearily.

"You have no hope, then, Mr. Garth?"

"Hope? yes; the best of hope--the Christian's hope. G.o.d can do any thing He pleases, we all know, and He may stretch forth his hand when all seems dark; but Captain Ambrose is not one to run a risk of that sort, so he has sent me to work upon a raft--one of two he is making for the seamen if the wust comes to the wust. But you see, I have been on lost s.h.i.+ps afore now, an' I know there is no larboard nor starboard rules when men are skeered. So I shall make my raft to hold the womenfolk, for the boats will be for the sailors--mark my word--and them that's wise will wait till the press is over and take the rafts."

"There are little children," I said; "six of them belonging to that lady and Mr. Lamarque. Don't forget them, Mr. Garth, and the poor little widow coming now to claim her baby; this miserable little creature I am holding until she breakfasts. Don't lose sight of these, either, in the crowd, if, indeed, we are obliged to have recourse to your raft."

"Pray rayther that it may float us all to safety," he said, sternly, "for your best chance of being saved will be on that raft, if matters go as I think they will. Trust me, for I will come;" and he pa.s.sed away just before the little widow came to my side again.

"I came up as soon as I could, to relieve you. I know how cross baby is when he gets restless, and I was afraid you might tire of him. See! I have brought his bread, and this waiter of tea and toast for you; now you must take a mouthful."

She knew nothing of our danger, it was plain. "Did you leave the other pa.s.sengers at table?" I asked; "the captain, was he there?"

The question was never answered, for the attention of my interlocutor was riveted now, as was my own, on the companion-way, from which a wild and frightened-looking crowd was densely emerging, with a confused hum of voices that announced their recognition of their impending danger.

The change of age, of pain, of woe, seemed sealed upon each aspect, as one by one, and phantom-like, in rapid succession, those who had so lately gone down to feast returned to the upper day, like grim ghosts coming from a church-yard carnival.

It was a sight to stir the stoutest spirit.

At the close of the repast, the captain had announced the truth, to his pa.s.sengers, and followed them now to enjoin them to firmness and efficiency, both so greatly needed at this crisis.

Mounted on the capstan, he addressed them briefly, and not without influence. Such was the power of his simple and manly bearing over these distracted souls, that even the wildest listened with decorum.

This was no immigrant-s.h.i.+p, loaded with stolid or desperate men, insensible of high teachings, and alone desirous of personal safety. Yet the universal instinct a.s.serted itself, and for the time courtesies were set aside, and family affections were all that were regarded.

Miss Lamarque, pale, yet collected, now stood surrounded by the children of her brother, leaning upon his arm while the captain spoke. Husbands and wives were together, sisters and brothers, servants and their masters--each group revealed its several household affinities. We only were alone--the dreary little widow, whose name I never knew, and Miriam Monfort; and on natural principles we clung together.

It is true that Miss Lamarque, by many signs, implored me to come to her, but I would not. It was like intruding on a bed of death, I felt, to break through ties of blood at such a time, by thrusting a foreign presence amid devoted relatives; and I was too proud, or perhaps too selfish, to intrude where I must be secondary, unless I took away another's rights.

The captain had promised, in his brief address, to protect his pa.s.sengers to the utmost of his power--leaving the result with G.o.d. He had entreated them to be calm, and to preserve order--so essential to safety; had mentioned his confidence that a s.h.i.+p must pa.s.s before the catastrophe could possibly occur; but added that, to prepare for the worst, he had ordered the construction of two rafts--one for the use of the seamen, the other for the reception of food and necessaries.

His plan was to attach these to the larger boats, and so provide against want; in the certainty, however, that on such a route relief must soon present itself, in the shape of s.h.i.+p or steamer.

He called on all able to abet his exertions to present themselves forthwith, so that universal safety might be insured; not only by making the rafts, but the securing of food upon them, and comforts for the women and children, who represented so large a portion of the pa.s.sengers. He answered for the fidelity of his seamen with his life.

There was not one among them, he knew, who would lift a finger to disobey him. He said these words in conclusion:

"And now, if there is any one present sufficiently imbued with the grace of G.o.d to fix the anxious minds of these voyagers in prayer, such at least of them as are powerless otherwise to aid our exertions, let him appear and minister to their tribulation. This task is not for me, although the holiest. My duties call me elsewhere."

So adjured, a man, whose wild, fanatical appearance had given rise to the rumor that the famous "Lorenzo Dow" was on board, sprang on a bulkhead, and commenced to exhort the crowd about him, from which a file of pale, determined-looking men was slowly emerging to join the seamen at the other end of the vessel in their efforts for the public weal. But many lingered, either overcome and paralyzed by the stringency of circ.u.mstances, or unequal to exertions from personal causes--aged men, women, and children, chiefly--and to these the frenzied speaker continued to address his words of exhortation and warning.

Such a tirade of terrible objurgation I felt was entirely out of place in a scene like this, and calculated to excite the worst pa.s.sions of the human mind, instead of persuading it to serenity and submission, so essential now; for to me the captain's last words represented the final grace of the preacher, when, with closed eyes and outspread hands, he dismissed his flock from the temple at the close of the services. From that vessel and all that concerned it we were virtually enfranchised from that moment--dismissed to destruction, so to speak, by fire or flood, or rescue from beyond, as the case might be, to life or death, as G.o.d willed--for the s.h.i.+p's mission was accomplished.

I shrank as far as possible from the wild, waving arms, the frenzied eyes, the gaunt and wolfish aspect, the piercing, agonized voice of the fanatic, who had a.s.sumed to himself the solemn office of soul-comforter in a time of extremity. I saw from a distance his long, lank figure writhing like a sapling in a storm, as it overtopped the crowd; but his words were lost on my ear, and I sat leaning back against the bulwark with folded hands, absorbed in my own thoughts, when a young girl, bursting from the throng, came and threw herself down before me, and buried her face in my lap, convulsed with sobs. When she looked up, I recognized the young person who had bathed my face in the morning during my partial swoon--a fair and lovely-looking girl of about eighteen years, pallid and ill now with excitement.

"Oh, it is so terrible!" she cried; "I cannot--cannot bear it, and he says we are all hopelessly lost unless we have repented; that there is no death-bed salvation; and this is our death-bed, you know, for the Spanish s.h.i.+p pa.s.sed us without stopping, and we scarcely hope to see another. O cruel, cruel fiends! to pretend they did not understand our signals, and leave us to destruction."

And she clasped her hands in mute and bitter despair--no actress was ever so impressive.

"We must make up our minds to the worst," I said, as calmly as I could.

"Then, if G.o.d sees fit to deliver us, we shall be all the more thankful.

You must not believe what this ignorant and panic-stricken man tells you. Think of the thief on the cross whom Christ pardoned in dying."

"Then you hope to be permitted to see G.o.d! You dare to hope this?" she asked, gazing into my very eyes, so closely did she come to me.

"Oh, surely in his own good time! I have done nothing so very wicked, I hope, as to exclude me from my Father's face forever--have you? Now, don't be frightened; speak calmly."

"I don't know--I don't know. I should be afraid not to call myself desperately wicked at such a time; he says we all are, you know. We are all miserable sinners."

"It is very abject to talk and feel thus, and I don't believe that G.o.d approves of it," I said, indignantly. "He gives us self-respect, and commands us to cherish it. Such abas.e.m.e.nt is unworthy of Christian souls. It is very bitter to die, as young as we are; but, if we have done our best to serve Him, we need--we ought not to be afraid to meet our G.o.d."

She clung to my outstretched hand. She strengthened my spirit by the fullness of her need. The feeble widow with her child, too, crept close to me, weeping and trembling.

"Do not leave me," she entreated; "let us stay together to the very last."

"Nay, that may be a long time," I answered, smiling feebly, and nerved for the first time to encouragement; "for the captain will do his best to save his pa.s.sengers--the women especially, I cannot doubt; and see what bounteous provision he is making for their support!"

And I pointed to the piles of flour and sugar barrels, the boxes of crackers and of hams, of figs and raisins, the hampers of wine and ale, which were profusely piled on the quarter-deck ready for lowering to the rafts.

"He means to take care of us, you see, by the permission of Providence,"

I said, almost strengthened by this dependence, "and we will remain calmly together, and drink whatever cup G.o.d offers us--humbly, I hope."

Yet, even as I spoke, my heart rebelled against the fiat of my fate, and the young life within me rose up in fierce conflict with its doom.

At this moment of bitter strife of heart, Mr. Dunmore, the youthful poet of whom I have already spoken, stood before me.

"I have found you at last," he said, "deputed as I am to do so by Miss Lamarque. It is a point of honor with her to care for you personally in this crisis. You know Major Favraud placed you under her care; besides that, her regard for you impels this request. She bids me say--"

I interrupted him hastily.

"This is no time for ceremonials, truly, Mr. Dunmore; yet, had family concurrence been perfect, it seems to me that her brother might have undertaken this mission. I have no wish to thrust myself undesired into any household circle at such a crisis."

"He is wholly absorbed with his children."

"As he ought to be, Mr. Dunmore, and, when the time of peril comes, it is of their needs alone that he will and must think, I am alone in this vessel, as I shall remain. I did not leave Savannah under Miss Lamarque's care. She is very generous, very considerate, but I will not embarra.s.s her motions, nor yours, nor any one's. It is the duty of Captain Ambrose to see to the welfare of his female pa.s.sengers. I shall not be forgotten among these--"

He stood before me with his knightly head uncovered, his handsome face as calm as though he were a guest at a festival instead of a patient and interested watcher at a funeral-pyre. His birth, his breeding, his genius even, a.s.serted themselves in that mortal hour. He was calm, collected, serious, but not afraid.

"The peril will be great to all, of course," he said, quietly, "but no gentleman will prefer his own safety to that of the most humble and desolate woman on the s.h.i.+p. To you, Miss Harz, I devote my energies to-day, to you and these ladies of your party, whoever they may be--,"

bowing gently as he spoke. "I may fail in delivering you from danger, but it shall not be for want of effort on my part. Believe my words, I have less care for life than most people, and now let me offer you my escort through that maddened crowd (the rest may follow closely), to reach Miss Lamarque."

"No, Mr. Dunmore, I _must_ remain just where I am, I have promised myself to do so; this is much; and these unhappy women--they, like myself, are alone, or seem to be. Should you see fit to do so, and be willing to be so enc.u.mbered, you can return after a lapse of time; but make no point of this, I entreat you. I think that Captain Ambrose will observe good order and save his helpless ones first. You know he promised this--"