Chapter 15

AN OPEN BOAT AT SEA.

Flora's spirits rose in proportion to the novelty and danger of her situation. All useless regrets and repinings were banished from her breast the moment she embarked upon that stormy ocean. The parting, which, when far off, had weighed so heavily on her heart, was over; the present was full of excitement and interest; the time for action had arrived; and the consciousness that they were actually on their way to a distant clime, braced her mind to bear with becoming fortitude this great epoch of her life.

The gale lulled for a few minutes, and Flora looked up to the leaden sky, in the hope of catching one bright gleam from the sun. He seemed to have abdicated his throne that day, and refused to cast even a glimpse upon the dark, storm-tossed waters, or cheer with his presence the departure of the emigrants.

The gentlemen made an effort to be lively. The conversation turned on the conduct of women under trying circumstances--the courage and constancy they had shown in situations of great peril--animating the men to fresh exertions by their patient endurance of suffering and privation. Mr. Hawke said, "That all travellers had agreed in their observations upon the conduct of females to strangers; and that, when travelling, they had never had occasion to complain of the women."

At this speech, Lyndsay, who began to feel all the horrible nausea of sea-sickness, raised his head from between his hands, and replied with a smile, "That it was the very reverse with women, for, when they travelled, they had most reason to complain of the men."

The effects of the stormy weather soon became very apparent among the passengers in the pilot-boat--sickness laid its leaden grasp upon all the fresh-water sailors. Even Lyndsay, a hardy Islander, and used to boats and boating all his life, yielded passively to the attacks of the relentless fiend of the salt waters, with rigid features, and a face pale as the faces of the dead. He sat with his head bowed between his hands, as motionless as if he had suddenly been frozen into stone. Flora often lifted the cape of the cloak which partially concealed his face, to ascertain that he was still alive.

The anxiety she felt in endeavouring to protect her infant from the pouring rain, perhaps acted as an antidote to this distressing malady, for, though only just out of a sick bed, she did not feel the least qualmish.

Hannah, the servant, lay stretched at the bottom of the boat, her head supported by the ballast-bags, in a state too miserable to describe; while James Hawke, the lad who was to accompany them in their long voyage, had sunk into a state of happy unconsciousness, after having vainly wished, for the hundredth time, that he was safe on shore, scampering over the village green with his twelve brothers and sisters, and not tempting the angry main in an open boat, with the windows of heaven discharging waters enough upon his defenceless head to drown him--without speaking of the big waves that every moment burst into the boat, giving him a salt bath upon a gigantic scale.

After an hour's hard rowing, the _King William_ (for so their boat was called), cast anchor in the roadstead, distant about eight miles from the town, and lay to, waiting for the coming-up of the steamer.

Hours passed away,--the day wore slowly onward,--but still the vessel they expected did not appear. The storm, which had lulled till noon, increased in violence, until it blew "great guns," to use the sailors' nautical phraseology; and signs of uneasiness began to be manifested by the hardy crew of the pilot-boat.

"Some accident must have befallen the steamer," said Palmer, the captain of the boat, to Craigie, a fine, handsome young seaman, as he handed him the bucket to bale the water from their vessel. "I don't like this; I'll be ---- if I do! If the wind increases, and remains in the present quarter, a pretty kettle of fish it will make of us. We may be thankful if we escape with our lives."

"Is there any danger?" demanded Flora eagerly, as she clasped her wet, cold baby closer to her breast. The child had been crying piteously for the last hour.

"Yes, Madam," he replied respectfully; "we have been in considerable danger all day. The wind is increasing with the coming in of the tide; and I see no prospect of its clearing up. As the night comes on, do ye see, and if we do not fall in with the _Soho_, we shall have to haul up the anchor, and run before the gale; and, with all my knowledge of the coast, we may be driven ashore, and the boat swamped in the surf."

Flora sighed, and wished herself safe at home, in her dear, snug, little parlour; the baby asleep in the cradle, and Lyndsay reading aloud to her as she worked, or playing on his flute.

The rain again burst down in torrents,--the thunder roared over their heads,--and the black, lurid sky, looked as if it contained a second deluge. Flora shivered with cold and exhaustion, and bent more closely over the child, to protect her as much as possible, by the exposure of her own person, from the drenching rain and spray.

"Ah! this is sad work for women and children!" said the honest tar, drawing a large tarpaulin over the mother and child. Blinded and drenched by the pelting of the pitiless shower, Flora crouched down in the bottom of the boat, in patient endurance of what might befal. The wind blew piercingly cold; and the spray of the huge billows which burst continually over them, enveloped the small craft in a feathery cloud, effectually concealing from her weary passengers the black waste of raging waters which roared around and beneath them.

The poor infant was starving with hunger, and all Flora's efforts to keep it quiet proved unavailing. The gentlemen were as sick and helpless as the baby, and nothing could well increase their wretchedness. They had now been ten hours at sea; and, not expecting the least detention from the non-arrival of the steamer, nothing in the way of refreshment had formed any part of their luggage. Those who had escaped the horrors of sea-sickness, of which Flora was one, were suffering from thirst, while the keen air had sharpened their appetites to a ravenous degree.

In spite of their forlorn situation, Flora could not help being amused by the gay, careless manner, in which the crew of the boat contended with these difficulties.

"Well, I'll be blowed if I arn't hungry!" cried Craigie, as he stood up in the boat, with his arms folded, and his nor'wester pulled over his eyes, to ward off the drenching rain. "Nothin' would come amiss to me now, in the way of prog. I could digest a bit of the shark that swallowed Jonah, or pick a rib of the old prophet himself, without making a wry face."

"I wonder which would prove the tougher morsel of the two," said Mr. Hawke, raising his languid head from the bench before him, and whose love of fun overcame the deadly pangs of sea-sickness.

"A dish of good beefsteaks from the Crown Inn would be worth them both, friend," said Adam Mansel, who, getting better of the sea-sickness, like Craigie, began to feel the pangs of hunger.

"You may keep the dish, mister," returned Craigie, laughing; "give me the grub."

"Ah, how bitter!" groaned James Hawke, raising himself up from the furled sail which had formed his bed, and yielding to the terrible nausea that oppressed him.

"Ay, ay, my lad," said an ancient mariner, on whose tanned face time and exposure to sun and storm had traced a thousand hieroglyphics; "nothing's sweet that's so contrary to natur'. Among the bitter things of life, there's scarcely a worse than the one that now troubles you. Sick at sea,--well on shore; so there's comfort for you!"

"Cold comfort," sighed the boy, as he again fell prostrate on the wet sail. A huge billow broke over the side of the boat, and deluged him with brine. He did not heed it, having again relapsed into his former insensible state.

"The bucket aft," shouted Palmer. "It's wanted to bale the boat."

"The bucket's engaged," said Craigie, bowing with ludicrous politeness, to poor Hannah, whose head he was supporting, "I must first attend to the lady."

The patience of the handsome young Quaker, under existing difficulties, was highly amusing. He bore the infliction of the prevailing malady with such a benign air of resignation, that it was quite edifying. Wiping the salt water from his face with a pocket-handkerchief of snowy whiteness, he exclaimed, turning to Flora, who was sitting at his feet with Josey in her arms, "Friend Flora, this sea-sickness is an evil emetic. It tries a man's temper, and makes him guilty of the crime of wishing himself at the bottom of the sea."

"If you could rap out a good round oath or two, Mister Quaker, without choking yourself, it would do you a power of good," said Craigie. "What's the use of a big man putting up with the like o' that, like a weak gall--women were made to bear--man to resist."

"The Devil, and he will flee from them," said Adam.

"You smooth-faced, unshaved fellows, have him always at your elbow," said Craigie. "He teaches you long prayers--us big oaths. I wonder which cargo is the best to take to heaven."

"Two blacks don't make a white, friend," said Adam, good-naturedly. "Blasphemy, or hypocrisy either, is sufficient to sink the ship."

Night was now fast closing over the storm-tossed voyagers. The boat was half full of water, which flowed over Flora's lap, and she began to feel very apprehensive for the safety of her child. At this moment, a large retriever dog which belonged to the captain of the boat, crept into her lap; and she joyfully placed the baby upon his shaggy back, and the warmth of the animal seemed greatly to revive the poor shivering Josey.

It was nearly dark when Palmer roused Lyndsay from his stupor, and suggested the propriety of their return to ----. "You see, Sir," he said, "I am quite willing to wait for the arrival of the _Soho_, but something must have gone wrong with her, or she would have been down before this. The crew of the boat have been now ten hours exposed to the storm, without a morsel of food, and if the wind should change, we should have to run in for the Port of Y----, twenty miles distant from this. Under existing circumstances, I think it advisable to return."

"By all means," said Lyndsay. "This might have been done three hours ago;" and the next minute, to Flora's inexpressible joy, the anchor was hoisted, and the gallant boat once more careering over the mighty billows.

Her face was once more turned towards that dear home, to which she had bidden adieu in the morning; as she then imagined, for ever--"England"--she cried, stretching her arms towards the dusky shore. "Dear England! The winds and waves forbid our leaving you. Welcome,--oh, welcome, once more."

As they neared the beach, the stormy clouds parted in rifted masses; and the deep blue heavens, studded here and there with a pale star, gleamed lovingly down upon them; the rain ceased its pitiless pelting, the very elements seemed to smile upon their return.

The pilot boat had been reported during the day as lost, and the beach was crowded with anxious men and women to hail its return. The wives and children of her crew pressed forward to meet them with joyful acclamations; and Flora's depressed spirits rose with the excitement of the scene.

"Hold fast your baby, Mrs. Lyndsay, while the boat clears the surf," cried Palmer. "I'll warrant that you both get a fresh ducking."

As he spoke, the noble boat cut like an arrow through the line of formidable breakers which thundered on the beach; the foam flew in feathery volumes high above their heads, drenching them with a misty shower; the keel grated upon the shingles, and a strong arm lifted Flora once more upon her native land.

Benumbed and cramped with their long immersion in salt water, her limbs had lost the power of motion, and Lyndsay and old Kitson carried her between them up the steps which led from the beach to the top of the cliffs, and deposited her safely on the sofa in the little parlour of her deserted home.