Woman As She Should Be Part 5

A faint flush tinged with a deeper hue the girl's countenance, already bronzed by exposure to sun and wind, while her dark grey eye grew moist with unshed tears. It was evident that there was something deeper in the old man's speech, than the mere words would seem to imply,--some covert allusion which thus called forth her emotion.

"The vessel was to have left more than a week ago; it ought to be near the coast by this time," said the fisherman, in a tone of uneasiness.

He turned to address his daughter, but she was no longer at his side; and, looking in the distance, he perceived her climbing a high and jutting rock, from which the ocean, for miles around, was distinctly visible. Ellen, for that was her name, having at length ascended, stood with agile yet firm feet on the eminence, shading, with one hand, the sun, which now, peering from behind a ma.s.s of dark purple clouds, lit up for a moment the turbid waves, and gleamed on rock and beach and fishermen's huts,--and with the other holding on to the sharp edge of a projecting rock, that still towered above her. Nor as she thus stood, was she, by any means, an unpicturesque object; the sunshine glancing on her neatly arranged brown hair, her tall figure, slight for that of a hardy fisherman's child, clad in a black skirt and crimson jacket, and every feature of her speaking countenance wearing a commingled expression of anxiety, hope, and tenderness.

How her eager vision seemed to catch, in a moment, each feature of the scene; the sandy beach--the rugged hill--her father's shallop--and he, standing in the position she had left him, gazing out into the sea; and with what a lingering, straining glance, did her eyes wander over that pathless ocean, while her heart sank within her, as she contemplated its angry and menacing appearance.

"Not a sail in sight," she murmured, "and the night coming on so fearfully black. Oh, Edward, shall I ever see you again!" was her exclamation, uttered in a tone full of wild pathos, while the hand, that had been upraised to shade the sun's rays, fell listless at her side.

"Oh, if you only come back safe again, I shall quarrel with you and tease you no more,--and you so patient and so good,"--and her quivering lip, and the expression of anguish that pa.s.sed over her features, told how deep and true her emotion.

"It is no use lingering here," she mentally e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, as a fresh blast of wind nearly swept her from the summit. "I may as well go down at once." Turning to descend, she paused to take a parting glance at the distant ocean, whose mercy she would fain have invoked for the loved ones it bore on its bosom, when something at a distance caught her eager eye. As one transfixed, she stood there, fearing almost to breathe, lest a breath might dissolve the vision.

"Yes, a sail is in sight; but, ah, is it the one I look for? Oh, this cruel suspense, how much longer must I bear it! Father, father," she cried, and the breeze bore the clear tones of her voice distinctly to his ear; "father, do come here, for I see a sail yonder, and I think it is the 'Darling,'" for so, by the lover captain,--doubtless to remind him of another =darling=, tarrying at home,--the little trim schooner was designated.

The man quickly obeyed her summons, and soon stood by her side, scanning, too, with eager eyes, the appearance of the vessel, that was now, favored by a strong breeze, veering rapidly towards them.

"It looks like her cut, Ellen," said the fisherman; "but we shall see shortly."

"Yes," said the girl, clapping her hands with delight, while her whole face was lighted up with joy; "it is her, sure enough, for I see her blue flag bordered with red, and the white square in the centre."

"Well," said the man, with a good-humored smile, "thine eyes must be a good deal sharper than mine, la.s.s, for I can barely see a flag at all, much less its color; but certainly thou ought to know best, when it happens to be the work of thine own hands."

A merry laugh was the response. "I shall hurry down to tell mother,"--and with an agile step she bounded down the steep eminence, and in a few moments reached the door of the dwelling, while the fisherman hastened to the beach, to be first ready to greet the crew of the schooner with a hearty welcome home.

CHAPTER IX.

"Ben," said the Captain of a smart-looking schooner, that under a heavy weight of canvas was manfully breasting the breeze, almost conscious, one might fancy, that it was steering for home.

"Ben," he inquired, addressing the mate, who had just come on deck, "what is that strange looking thing yonder?" indicating by his finger the direction of the object. The mate, a weather-beaten and experienced looking son of the ocean, glanced for a moment in the direction specified, without speaking.

"It looks to me," he said at length, "like a human being clinging to some box or chair, but it is floating fast this way, and we shall soon be able to tell."

Sure enough, in a moment or two, they were enabled to gain a full, clear view of it, and saw it to be a woman holding fast to a ring of some kind,--a life-preserver they judged it to be,--which kept her head above the waters.

"Let us bear down quick," said the Master, in an excited tone, for he was young and kind-hearted, and the sight of anything in distress, how much more a woman, was sufficient to arouse his warmest sympathies; and ere ten minutes had elapsed, the life-preserver, with its clinging burden, was safely landed on deck.

Agnes, for she it was, whom this worthy man had so promptly and providentially rescued, was partially insensible; but some restoratives, which fortunately they happened to have on hand, being applied, she soon recovered, at least sufficiently to explain from whence she came, and through what means she had been placed in such a perilous situation.

It appeared, from her statement, that after having embarked on board the boat during that tempestuous night, which witnessed the conflagration of their n.o.ble steamer, whose fate was recorded in a previous chapter, the sailors, who had, unknown to the captain, smuggled a large cask of spirits on board, began freely to imbibe them, to keep out, as they said, the cold. It was in vain that the ladies remonstrated with them, and pointed out the dangers which would ensue, should they become helpless through its means. Unfortunately they had lost sight, in consequence of the darkness and tempest, of the other boat, containing the remainder of the pa.s.sengers, who had just time to push away from the burning wreck before its final submersion beneath the briny waves; and, having none to check them, the sailors, in spite of the entreaties of the women, continued to partake, from time to time, of the death-destroying liquid.

Morning dawned, but brought little alleviation. It is true, the storm had abated, and the sky was becoming clear, but the wind was still high, and the boat rocked fearfully, while the billows, that had not yet been hushed into quiet, threatened, every now and then, to submerge the frail and tempest-tossed bark. They had drifted,--so the sailors said,--a long way through the night, and must be somewhere near the coast of Newfoundland; but no indication of land was visible, nor was there to be seen the slightest trace of their companions in misfortune. All that day the sailors behaved pretty well; a bag of biscuits had been placed on board, and a jar of water, of which each partook, and all felt a little comforted and strengthened; but, as night came on, the men commenced afresh to drink. Most fortunately, the sea had become calm, so the boat drifted on, pretty much left to its own will. The next morning found the sailors in a state of almost helpless intoxication; but now land was in sight, though at a great distance, and the women, seizing the oars, strove to impel the boat in that direction; but soon, worn out with the struggle, and finding they made but little headway, most of them gave up to despair, and resigned themselves, as they said, to their fate. It was now high noon, at least so they judged from the look of the sun, and Agnes strove by every means to re-a.s.sure her fainting companions. She spoke of the power and goodness of their heavenly Father, and besought them to unite with her in earnest pet.i.tions to the throne of grace for timely succor, or for a preparation for a speedy exit from life. Some heard with attention, and united with agonizing earnestness in the pet.i.tion, which, as it ascended from her lips, sounded like a seraph's pleading, and surely reached the ear of the Lord G.o.d of Sabaoth. Others listened with stolid indifference, or sullen despair. Throughout the precious years of prosperity, that had been vouchsafed to them, they had been neglecters of the "great salvation;" and now, in the article and hour of death, they knew not how to implore his mercy, of whom they had been hitherto utterly unmindful, much less adored and loved.

At length one of the women lifted her face, haggard with care and grief, and threw a glance, preternaturally sharpened, over the wild waste of waters:--

"I see a sail yonder," she cried wildly. "Look," she cried to Agnes, "can you not see it, too?"--but just at this moment one of the sailors, not quite so much stupefied as the others, hearing the exclamation, roused himself, and bent over the side of the boat, and instantly the frail bark was submerged beneath the waves.

Oh, what shrieks of agony filled the air.

"Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell, Then shrieked the timid, and stood still the brave."

Agnes had carefully retained the life-preserver, which had been given to her by her friend the minister, and with the instinct of self-preservation, almost unconsciously clung to it, while her companions, less fortunate, and worn out with previous grief, one by one sank to rise no more "till the sea shall give up its dead."

"I think," she said, as she concluded her narrative, "I must have been in the water more than half an hour, when I espied the sail, to which my unfortunate companion had alluded, and seeing it, seemed to inspire me with new life, for I had become so exhausted and enfeebled by the waves that surrounded me, that I felt nature could not much longer survive the icy chills which thrilled through my very frame; and when I found that you had seen me, and were sailing towards me, evidently with the intention of effecting my rescue, no language can describe the varied emotions of my heart,--joy, grat.i.tude and hope preponderating."

Exhausted by the effort of speaking, Agnes sank back on the rude couch, that the sailors had with kind haste prepared for her.

"Land, yonder," sang one from the mast-head.

"I am heartily glad of it," said the Captain, "for all our sakes, for we shall soon have a terrible storm, but especially for this poor lady's, whose strength seems almost gone."

Prospered by a favoring breeze, a few hours sufficed to bear the vessel to its destined harbor; and that night, sheltered, in comparative comfort, beneath the hospitable roof of Mr. Williamson, Ellen's father, Agnes sank into deep and quiet repose.

CHAPTER X.

April, capricious, yet beautiful child of Spring, once more smiled upon the bleak sh.o.r.es and sterile plains which, when we last beheld them, were encompa.s.sed by the chilling atmosphere, and loomed bleak and desolate beneath the sombre sky of, to that land at least, unpropitious winter.

Welcome to all the inhabitants of that rude coast, the return of the season was hailed with pleasure the deepest, the liveliest, with grat.i.tude as warm as ever expanded the human heart, by her whom, an exile from her native sh.o.r.es, had been compelled to sojourn for a season on its rocky and cheerless wastes. Five months had now elapsed since, rescued by the kind-hearted sailors, Agnes had become an inmate of the fisherman's cottage, and these months had seemed to her like a separate existence, so widely had their experience differed from that of her accustomed every-day life.

But deem not, gentle reader, that they had been spent by her in sinful repining at the hardships of her lot. During the first part of her sojourn among them, severe sickness, caused no doubt by previous exposure and anxiety, had prostrated her system, and brought her to the very borders of the grave, but through the unremitting care of Mrs.

Williamson and her daughter, she was restored to health; and full of grat.i.tude to heaven for this double preservation of her life, which had been thus vouchsafed, her first inquiry was, how she could best return the debt of grat.i.tude due to her Father in Heaven, and those through whose kindly instrumentality she was thus raised up again. Nor was she long in ascertaining the path of duty, nor hesitating in commencing and pursuing it with eagerness.

One day, soon after her recovery, she was sitting by the fire, when Ellen, the fisherman's daughter, to whom we have before alluded, entered the room, and observing that Agnes looked somewhat downcast, kindly inquired the cause, for the grat.i.tude she had manifested for every little act of kindness, had deeply endeared her to those with whom she was now a.s.sociated.

"I hope you do not feel any worse, dear lady," she said.

"Oh, no, Ellen," was the reply, while a smile instantly dissipated the shadow that had obscured for a moment her countenance. "And how deeply grateful should I feel," she added after a short pause, "first to my Heavenly Father, and then to you and your kind family, whose unwearied care and attention have been so instrumental in my recovery; and I trust yet to have it in my power to show my sense of your kindness."

"Don't, Miss Wiltshire, please don't say anything more. Why, we only did what any persons, with common feelings, would have done."

"Nevertheless," persisted Agnes, "I feel under very great obligations to you all. But I will tell you what made me look a little melancholy when you came in. Your father informed me, this morning, that there would be no possibility of my communicating with my home until spring, and thus my relatives and friends, not having any intelligence of me, for so long a time, will certainly believe that I have found a watery grave."

"But when you return home, what a delightful surprise they will get; why, it would be worth enduring months of pain for," said Ellen, who seemed to have the happy faculty of always looking at the bright side.

"Very true, Ellen, but"--and an involuntary sigh followed the sentence--"you know not, and I trust will never know, from experience, that 'Hope deferred maketh the heart sick.'"

"I know something about that, too, Miss Agnes, though maybe you think me too young; but, indeed, there was once a weary while, when I watched the sea day after day, that is, when the scalding tears would let me see it, and shuddered to hear the fierce winds moaning round our dwelling, as though they had a human heart, and sighed and raved for some lost love. Oh, how I remember the day, when that long-looked for vessel came back again, for I had got up more down-hearted than ever, and I thought it no use hoping and waiting, for I shall never see it again,--and then the salt sea was not salter than the tears I shed, as I sat down on a rock by the sh.o.r.e, and thought of the stalwart form that would never meet my eye again, and of the kind voice that should never sound in my ears,--and as I looked on the sea, its bright waves rippling and smiling beneath my feet, it seemed to laugh and mock me cruelly, and I almost wished myself,--I know it was very wicked, Miss Agnes,--far, far beneath it, where I should forget my troubles, and my heart cease its aching.

And then I laid my head on the rock, and covered my face with my hands, and cried as though I should never cease, until I felt something touch my face, and a voice that I knew too well said, 'Ellen, Ellen, what art thou breaking thy heart for in this manner?'--and I looked up, and saw two eyes, that, a moment before, I thought death had closed, shining brightly on me, and--but you have seen him yourself, Miss Agnes, and can easy guess how happy I was. Oh, it made up for all my weary days, and wretched, sleepless nights."

Agnes had listened with much interest to the simple narrative, and while her eyes filled with tears, she murmured, almost unconsciously,