Part 4

Minnie clung round her mother; the greater the danger, the greater the fear, the closer she clung! "We shall not be separated!" she gasped forth; and Mrs. Mayne, bending down, whispered in her ear, "'And who shall separate us from the love of Christ?' My precious one, He is with us now; He has power to subdue the fire, or to bear us safe through it to glory."

It was a strange and awful scene, and strange and wild were the mingling sounds that rose from the ship on fire. Shouting, shrieking, praying; the clank of the pump incessantly at work, voices giving hurried commands, the crackling of flame, the gurgle of water, the rushing of feet to and fro. Then—oh, blessed hope!—can that sudden, sharp clatter be indeed that of rain, pelting rain, against the window of the cabin, that dark window, which has only been lightened now and then by a terrible gleam from the fire?

"Rain, blessed rain!" exclaimed Mrs. Mayne, starting up. "Rain, rain!" repeated every joyful tongue; and then there was a momentary silence to listen to the clattering drops, as thicker and faster they fell, as if in answer to the fervent prayers that were rising from every heart. Surely never was shower more welcome!

"Oh, God sends the rain!" exclaimed Minnie. "There's no red glare now to be seen. It is pelting, it is pouring; it comes down like a stream!" And even as the words were on her tongue, a loud, long, glad cheer from above gave welcome tidings that the fire was subdued.

"Thank God, ladies, the danger is over," said the captain, at the door. He was now, for the first time, able to leave his post-upon deck, to relieve the terrors of his passengers below.

Then was there a strange revulsion of feeling amongst those who had lately been almost convulsed with terror. Strangers embraced one another like sisters, sobbing, laughing, congratulating each other; the passengers seemed raised at once from the depth of misery to the height of rapture. This, also, soon subsided, and it became but too evident that, with some, gratitude was almost as short-lived as fear, and that God's warning made no more lasting impression on the heart than the paddle-wheels on the water—creating a violent agitation for a few minutes, leaving a whitened track for a brief space longer, which, melting away from view, all became as it had been before.

Mrs. Lowe was very angry at the carelessness which had occasioned her such a fright; she was angry with the captain, the sailors, the passengers; in short, angry with every one but herself.

"I'll never set my foot in a steamer again! As if all the discomfort were not enough to drive one out of one's wits, one is not left to sleep for a moment in peace. Ah, tiresome child!" she exclaimed, almost fiercely, turning upon poor Jemima, "What have you done! Trampled your new hat, crushed the feather to bits!"

Jemima, who had by no means recovered from the shock of the alarm, made no attempt to reply to her mother, but sat crying in the corner of her berth. Mrs. Lowe, declaring that she would stay no longer to be stifled down below, made her way up to the deck, though the first faint streak of dawn was but beginning to flush the sky.

Minnie was on her mother's knee, peaceful, happy, thankful. From that dear resting-place she looked upon the poor little girl, whom she had half envied on the preceding evening, but whom she regarded now only with a feeling of pity. Mrs. Mayne saw that the child's nerves had been severely shaken, and, bending forward, she gently drew the weeping Jemima to her side.

"God has been very good to us; shall we not love Him, and thank Him?" said the lady.

Jemima squeezed her hand in reply.

"And shall we not try to set our affections on things above, so that, trusting in our Saviour God, our hearts may fear no evil?"

The tears were fast coursing one another down the pale cheeks of Jemima, and Minnie, with an impulse of joy, raised her head from her mother's bosom, and kissed her little companion.

This trifling act of kindness quite opened the heart of the girl. Jemima threw her little arms round the neck of Minnie, and, burying her face on her shoulder, sobbed forth, "Oh, where shall I get the grace, the oil for my lamp, that I may never be so frightened, so miserable again, when I hear the midnight cry!"

Never had Mrs. Mayne and her daughter spent a holier or more peaceful hour than that which followed, as in that narrow recess of the cabin, while the morning sun rose over the sea, the lady spoke to a trembling inquirer of the Saviour who died for sinners.

"Do you, my child, long for more grace to make you holy in life, and happy at the hour of death? 'Blessed are they who hunger and thirst after righteousness, saith the Lord, for they shall be filled.' It is the Spirit of God in your soul that alone can make that soul holy. Kneel, and ask for it in the name of the Saviour, who hath promised, 'Ask, and ye shall receive; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.' Sweet is His service, rich its reward; pardon and peace, happiness and heaven, such are His gifts to His children. The world and all within it must soon pass away; its pleasures, its riches, its glory: for 'the day of the Lord will come as a thief, in the which the heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements shall be dissolved with fervent heat, and the earth and the works that are therein shall be burned up.' But is there anything in this to terrify the Christian? Oh, no! For to him 'the day of the Lord' will be the day of joy, and thanksgiving, and triumph. For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven, with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first; then we that are alive, that are left, shall together with them be caught up in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord.'"

Deep sank the words of Scripture into the hearts of the two little girls. Each in her different path trimmed her lamp with the oil of grace, and the holy life of a wise virgin waiting for the coming of her Lord.