CHAPTER VIII.
The wind had risen while Captain Raymond was talking, and now beganto blow briskly, bringing with it an occasional dash of rain; a stateof affairs that presently sent the whole party into the cabin, and alittle later they had all retired to their staterooms but the captainand his two older daughters, who lingered a few moments for the bit ofchat with their dearly loved father of which they were so fond.
"Do you think we are going to have a hard storm, papa?" Grace asked alittle anxiously, as she came to him to say good-night.
"I hope not," he said, "do not be anxious; remember, 'the Lord hath hisway in the whirlwind and in the storm, and the clouds are the dust ofhis feet. He rebuketh the sea and maketh it dry.' Remember, too, that'the Lord is good, a stronghold in the day of trouble; and He knoweththem that trust in Him.'"
"Oh, yes! Thank you for reminding me of those sweet words, father,dear," she returned with a sigh of relief, and laying her cheekaffectionately against his as he put an arm about her and held herclose for a moment. "I will trust and not be afraid."
"That is right, daughter," he said; "no real evil can befall us whiletrusting in Him."
"But, papa, Christians do have great and real distresses sometimes,"she returned, with an enquiring and slightly troubled look up into hisface.
"Yes, daughter, 'Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth and scourgeth everyson whom he receiveth.' But 'like as a father pitieth his children sothe Lord pitieth them that fear Him;' and He will sustain them underall the troubles that He sends. Remember that His promise is, 'As thydays, so shall thy strength be.'"
"Such a sweet, precious promise, papa!" she said. "I will just put mydear ones and myself in His care, trust in Him, and not lie awake,dreading shipwreck."
"That is what I would have you do, my darling," he returned. "Do notforget those sweet words of Holy Writ: 'The Lord knoweth them thattrust in Him,' nor the promise that He will never leave or forsakethem. Put yourself into His care and go to sleep untroubled by doubtsand fears. Good-night," he concluded, as he kissed her tenderly and lether go.
"And how is it with my dear eldest daughter?" he asked, turning toLucilla, who stood near awaiting her turn.
"I am not naturally so timid as Gracie, you know, papa," she answered,smiling up into his face as he passed an arm about her and drew herclose to his side, while with the other hand he smoothed her haircaressingly, "and I do believe that God will take care of us allthrough the instrumentality of my own dear father, who knows so wellhow to manage a vessel in calm or storm. But you do not think there ismuch if any danger, do you, papa?" she asked, gazing searchingly intohis face, "for you are not looking at all anxious."
"There is a pretty stiff breeze," he said, "and Erie is a stormy lake,owing to the shallowness of its waters, and the consequent liabilityto a heavy ground swell which renders its navigation particularlydifficult and dangerous; but I have passed over it a number of timesand do not feel any great amount of anxiety in regard to our safety--ifI attend properly to my duty as commander of the _Dolphin_," heconcluded, with his pleasant smile. "I must return to the deck, now;so good-night, daughter dear. May you sleep sweetly and peacefully,trusting in the care of your earthly father, and still more in that ofyour heavenly one."
"Oh, just one minute more, papa," she said entreatingly, as he releasedher. "I--I want to say that I am afraid that I was--almost, if notquite, a little disrespectful to you once or twice to-day."
"Ah! Well, darling, if you have been, it is entirely forgiven; so go toyour bed in peace. I must hurry on deck and cannot wait to talk withyou further now."
With the concluding words he hastened away, while she looked after himwith eyes full of filial love, then as he disappeared she made her wayas quickly as the rolling of the vessel would allow, across the saloonand joined her sister in their stateroom.
There were tears in Grace's sweet blue eyes as she lifted them to hersister's face.
"What, crying, Gracie darling?" Lulu asked, with concern.
"Yes; to think of poor papa out on deck in the wind and rain, while weare so comfortable in here," answered Grace with a sob, pulling out herhandkerchief to wipe her eyes. "Oh, I almost wish I were a big, strongsailor, and knew all about managing a vessel, so that I could take hisplace and have him to his berth to rest and sleep."
"I'm sure I wish I could," sighed Lulu. "He should never have an acheor pain of any kind if I might bear them for him; never be anythingbut the happiest man in the world if----" but she paused suddenly,while a vivid blush suffused her face. "I have no right to talk so,"she added in a remorseful tone, "I, who so often fail to be theperfectly respectful and cheerfully obedient daughter that I ought."
"I really think you judge yourself very hardly, Lu," remarked Grace,with a surprised glance into her sister's face. "You are alwaysperfectly obedient and very affectionate toward our dear father,seeming to take great delight in doing everything you can to please himand add to his comfort; I really do not think he has a child who loveshim better or does more for his comfort; no, not even I, who esteem himthe very best and dearest father in the world," she concluded, with alook and smile that said more than her words.
"Oh, thank you, Gracie! I do love him dearly, dearly; but as you know Iam shamefully quick-tempered and wilful and sometimes look vexed at areproof or prohibition, then the next minute could beat myself well forit."
"Lu, you never, never are in a passion nowadays!" exclaimed Grace. "Iown you do look vexed sometimes for a minute or two, but then it's allover and you are just as sweet and pleasant as anyone could wish. Oh,you are just the dearest, dearest girl! Ah, you needn't shake yourhead and look so dolorous," she added, in a playful tone, putting herarms about Lucilla and kissing her with ardent affection.
"Ah, yes, you are all so dear and loving, so ready to excuse myfaults," Lulu said, returning the embrace with interest. "No one moreso than our dear father, though I well know I have given him morepain and trouble than any other of his children, if not than all puttogether. Gracie, let us kneel down together and ask God to take careof papa and all of us, and that if it is His will the storm may soon soabate that our dear father can go to his berth and get a good night'srest."
Grace was more than willing, and they spent some minutes in earnestsupplication.
In that act of prayer Grace cast all her care upon the Lord, andscarcely had she more than laid her head upon her pillow before shefell asleep; but Lucilla lay for hours listening to the howling ofthe wind, the sound of the waves dashing against the sides of thevessel, her father's voice occasionally giving an order through thespeaking trumpet, and the hurried and heavy tread of the sailors asthey hastened to obey. It seemed a worse storm than any she had everbeen in upon the water, and almost her every breath was a prayer forthe safety of the yacht with all its living freight--especially herdearly loved father, now exposed to the fury of the wind, waves, andrain--that they might pass through it in safety.
But at last she fell into a deep sleep, and for some hours heard andfelt nothing of the storm. Yet it was not over when she awoke; shecould still hear the howling of the wind, the rush of the waters, andfeel the rolling and pitching of the vessel. But it was daylight, andslipping from her berth with care not to rouse her still sleepingsister, she knelt for a moment of heart-felt thanks to her heavenlyFather, that thus far they had weathered the storm, and ferventsupplication that the vessel might outride it in safety to the end.
Rising from her knees she made a hasty toilet, then, anxious to learnof her father's welfare, stole from the room, and holding on by thefurniture, crossed the saloon, then with some difficulty climbed thecabin stairway and reached the windswept deck.
One glance showed her her father standing at a little distance, givingsome direction to a sailor. He did not see her. There was a momentarylull in the wind, and taking advantage of it she started on a runtoward him. But just at that moment came another and fierce gust thattook her off her feet and swept her toward the side of the vessel.
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nbsp; In another instant she would have been in the water, had her fathernot turned suddenly and caught her in his arms barely in time to saveher from that fate. He held her fast with one arm while he grasped therailing with the other hand, and held on till the gale again moderatedfor a moment. Then he carried her back to the cabin. They were alonethere, for the others were still in their staterooms. He strained herto his breast in silence, and she felt a tear fall on her head.
"Thank God, my darling, precious child is safe in my arms!" he said atlast, speaking scarcely above a whisper, pressing his lips again andagain to her forehead, her cheek, her mouth.
"And my own dear father saved me," she said in quivering tones, herarms about his neck, her face half hidden on his breast.
"It was a narrow escape, my child," he sighed, repeating his caresses,"a very narrow escape; and what would I have done had I lost my deareldest daughter? You must not try it again; don't venture on deck againuntil I give you permission."
"I will not, papa," she returned. "But oh, haven't you been up allnight? can't you take some rest now?"
"Not yet; perhaps after a little. There, there, do not look sodistressed," smoothing her hair caressingly as he spoke. "You mustremember I am an old sailor and used to such vigils. I had a cup ofcoffee and a biscuit a while ago which quite refreshed me."
"But can't you go to your berth now and take some hours of rest andsleep, papa, dear?" she asked entreatingly, her eyes gazing lovinglyinto his. "Surely someone among your men must be fit to take charge ofthe yacht for a while."
"Not just yet, daughter; perhaps before long I can do so. I must leaveyou now and go back to my duties; and do you go to your stateroom andthank your heavenly Father for your escape from a watery grave."
With that he released her and hurried away up the cabin stairs, shefollowing him with looks of yearning affection till he disappeared fromview, then hastening to obey his parting injunction.
Her heart was full of love and gratitude to God for her spared life,and that thus far they had escaped shipwreck, and even as she gavethanks it seemed to her that there was a lull in the storm--the windalmost ceasing to blow and the vessel rocking much less.
"Oh, Gracie," she said, as she rose from her knees and perceived thather sister's eyes were open, "I do think--I do hope that the worst ofthe storm is over."
"Do you?" cried Grace joyously, hastily throwing back the covering andstepping out upon the floor. "Oh, how glad I am! How good God has beento us all! But where is papa? Has he been up all night?"
"Yes," replied Lulu, "and oh, Gracie, if it hadn't been for him I wouldbe at the bottom of the lake now," she added, with tears of gratitudefilling her eyes.
"Why, Lu!" exclaimed Grace in astonishment, "you surely did not ventureup on the deck in this storm?"
"I did, and was nearly blown into the lake, but papa caught me, held mefast for a minute, then carried me down into the cabin."
"Oh, Lu! Lu! I hope you will never venture so again! I'd bebroken-hearted, and so would papa, and indeed, all the rest, if we lostyou in that way. What could I ever do without my dear, big sister?" sheconcluded, putting her arms about Lucilla and holding her fast in amost loving embrace.
"Oh, but it is nice that you love me so, Gracie, dear," Lulu returned.
"It was very foolish in me to venture on deck in such a gale, but papadid not scold me at all; just held me fast, petting and caressing meas if I were one of his greatest treasures."
"Of course," said Grace. "But didn't he forbid you to try going on deckagain before the wind dies down?"
"Yes," acknowledged Lulu. "Oh, I wish he could stay below too. I wanthim to go to his berth and sleep off his fatigue. He must be very tiredafter his long night's vigil. But it is nearly breakfast time, and weshould be making ourselves neat to appear at the table, looking as papawould have us."
An hour later all had gathered about the table, the captain at thehead of it as usual, and looking cheerful and pleasant-tempered as washis wont, though somewhat weary and worn. He reported the storm nearlyover, no serious damage done the vessel, nor much time lost. He hopedto be in the Welland Canal before night, and that they would findthemselves on Lake Ontario when they woke in the morning.
"And can you not go to your berth for some hours' rest and sleep whenyou have finished your breakfast, my dear?" queried Violet, with aloving, anxious look into his face.
"Probably; after a short visit to the deck to see that all is goingright there. Excuse me, my dear," he added, pushing away his plate andrising to his feet as he spoke. "I must return to my duties at once,but would have everyone else finish the meal at leisure," and with thelast word he hurried away.
"My dear papa looks so tired, mamma," remarked little Elsie inregretful tones, "what has he been doing?"
"Staying up all night to take care of us," replied Violet, the tearsshining in her eyes. "Don't you think we ought to love dear papa and doall we can to make him happy?"
"Yes, indeed, mamma!" answered the little girl earnestly. "Oh, I hopehe can get a good sleep soon so that he will feel rested and well.I was going to ask him to tell me about what happened at the RiverRaisin. You know our soldiers, in that fight with the British andIndians that he told us about yesterday, called out over and overagain, 'Remember the River Raisin,' and papa said he would tell me whatit meant if I would ask him to-day. But I can wait till to-morrow," sheadded, with a sigh of resignation.
"How would it do for grandma to take your papa's place and tell youthe story?" asked Grandma Elsie, in cheerful tones, and with a loving,smiling look at the little girl.
"Oh, nicely, grandma! I don't know but you could do it as well as papacould," answered the child eagerly.
"Ah, dearie, it is a very sad story, and I think I shall have to makeit short," sighed Mrs. Travilla; "the details would but harrow up yourfeelings unnecessarily."
"Bad doings of the British and Indians, grandma?" queried the littlegirl.
"Yes; it was that, indeed!" said Mr. Dinsmore; "the latter part ofthe tragedy a terrible slaughter of defenceless prisoners--tortured,scalped, tomahawked, slain in various ways with the utmost cruelty;many of them burned alive in the houses where they lay wounded, unableto move. It was a fearful slaughter which Proctor, far from trying toprevent, rewarded with praise and the purchase of the scalps."
"Oh, wasn't he a very, very bad man, grandpa?" exclaimed little Elsie.
"More of a devil than a man, I should say," exclaimed Walter. "Iremember reading an extract from a letter written a few days later,from Fort Maiden, by a Kentuckian to his mother, in which he says,'Never, dear mother, should I live a thousand years can I forgetthe frightful sight of this morning, when hideously painted Indianscame into the fort, some of them carrying half a dozen scalps of mycountrymen fastened upon sticks and yet covered with blood, and werecongratulated by Colonel Proctor for their bravery."
"But all the British officers were not so cruel, Walter, my dear,"said his mother. "I remember the story of the letter to which yourefer, and that the writer went on to say that he heard two Britishofficers talking of that scene together; that one of them, whose name,he had been told, was Lieutenant-Colonel St. George, remarked to theother that Proctor was a disgrace to the British army, that suchencouragement to devils was a blot upon the British character."
"Oh, please, grandma," cried little Elsie in distress, "I don't want tohear any more of that story."
"No, dear, it is far from being a pleasant one, nor is it worth whileto harrow up your feelings with it," returned Mrs. Travilla. "I willtry to find some pleasanter one for you and Neddie boy to help you passthe time agreeably while the storm prevents us from enjoying ourselvesupon the deck."
With that all rose and left the table to gather in the saloon formorning worship, which, in the captain's absence, was conducted by Mr.Dinsmore.
But the storm was abating so that in another half hour CaptainRaymond felt it safe to leave the deck and retire to his stateroomfor much needed rest and sleep, and the others co
uld sit comfortablyin the saloon, the ladies with their fancy work, while Grandma Elsieentertained the little folks with stories suited to their tender years.
Walter, too, was one of the listeners for a time, then with hisgrandfather ventured upon deck to take an observation of the weatherand their surroundings. When they returned it was with the cheeringreport that the storm had evidently spent its fury, the wind had nearlydied down, the rain ceased to fall, and the sun was struggling throughthe clouds.
"Oh, then we can go up on deck, can't we, grandpa?" cried Neddie, ineager tones.
"After a little, sonny," returned his grandpa, sitting down and drawingthe young pleader to his knee.
"When my papa wakes up?" queried Neddie, in a slightly disappointedtone.
"Yes, indeed, Ned," said Lucilla, "for though I am so much older thanyou, papa forbade me to go up there without his permission."
"Why did he, Lu?" asked Elsie in a tone of surprise; "and haven't youbeen up there at all this morning?"
"Yes, I was, before papa had forbidden me--and would have been blowninto the lake if he hadn't caught me in his arms and held me fast."
"Oh, Lu, tell us all about it!" cried Ned, while the others who hadnot heard the story expressed their surprise in various ways and askedquestion upon question.
"There's hardly anything more to tell," replied Lucilla. "I know papais always on deck early in the morning, and as I wake early too, I havea habit of running up there to exchange morning greetings with him.That was what I went for this time, not at all realizing how hard thewind was blowing, but I had scarcely set foot on the deck when it tookmy skirts and sent me across toward the spot where papa stood holdingon to the railing with one hand, his speaking trumpet in the other. Hedropped that in an instant and threw his arm round me." As she spokeshe shuddered at the thought of her narrow escape from a watery grave,and her voice trembled with emotion. Controlling it with an effort,"You see," she concluded, "that I owe my life to my dear father,and--and I love him even better than ever, though I thought before thatI loved him as much as was possible."
At that Violet dropped her work, went quickly to Lucilla's side, andbending down over her, kissed her with warmth of affection.
"Oh, I am so glad--so thankful that he was able to do it," she said intrembling tones and with tears in her eyes. "Dear Lu, it would havebroken our hearts to lose you in that sudden, dreadful way."
"As it would mine to lose you, dear Mamma Vi," returned Lucilla withemotion, putting her arms about Violet's neck and returning hercaresses with interest, "for you are so very good, kind, and lovingthat I have grown very fond of you. And I know it would break papa'sheart to lose you, even more than to lose me or all of his children."
"Oh, I hope he may never be so tried! for I know he loves us all verydearly, as we do him," said Violet. "I don't know what any of us coulddo without him."
Elsie's Journey on Inland Waters Page 8