Masterman Ready [89]
Mrs. Seagrave, "even if it does blow, they will not leave the island without taking us off. They will come after the gale is over."
"Yes, madam, if they can, I do think they will; but God knows, some men have hard hearts, and feel little for the misery of others."
The brig had, in the meantime, kept away again, as if she was running in; but very soon afterwards she hauled to the wind, with her head to the northward, and stood away from the island.
"She is leaving us," exclaimed William, mournfully.
"Hard-hearted wretches!" said Mr. Seagrave, with indignation.
"You are wrong to say that, sir," replied Ready: "excuse me, Mr. Seagrave, for being so bold; but the fact is, that if I was in command of that vessel, I should do just as they have done. The gale rises fast, and it would be very dangerous for them to remain where they now are. It does not at all prove that they intend to leave us; they but consult their own safety, and, when the gale is over, we shall, I trust, see them again."
No reply was made to Ready's judicious remarks. The Seagraves only saw that the vessel was leaving them, and their hearts sank. They watched her in silence, and as she gradually diminished to the view, so did their hopes depart from them. The wind was now fierce, and a heavy squall, with rain, obscured the offing, and the vessel was no longer to be distinguished. Mr. Seagrave turned to his wife, and mournfully offered her his arm. They walked away from the beach without speaking; the remainder of the party, with the exception of old Ready, followed them. Ready remained some time with his eyes in the direction where the vessel was last seen. At last he hauled down the ensign and flag, and, throwing them over his shoulder, followed the disconsolate party to the house.
Chapter XLIV
When Ready arrived, he found them all plunged in such deep distress, that he did not consider it advisable to say anything. The evening closed in; it was time to retire. The countenance of Mr. Seagrave was not only gloomy, but morose. The hour for retiring to rest had long passed when Ready broke the silence by saying, "Surely, you do not intend to sit up all night, Mr. Seagrave?"
"Oh, no! there's no use sitting up now," replied Mr. Seagrave, rising up impatiently. "Come, my dear, let us go to bed."
Mrs. Seagrave rose, and retired behind the canvas screen. Her husband seemed as if he was about to follow her, when Ready, without speaking, laid the Bible on the table before him. Mr. Seagrave did not appear to notice it; but William touched his father's arm, pointed to the book, and then went inside of the screen, and led out his mother.
"God forgive me!" exclaimed Mr. Seagrave. "In my selfishness and discontent I had forgotten--"
"Yes, sir, you had forgotten those words, `Come unto me, all ye who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.'"
"I am ashamed of myself," said Mrs. Seagrave, bursting into tears.
Mr. Seagrave opened the Bible, and read the psalm. As soon as he had closed the book, "good night" were all the words that passed, and they all retired to rest.
During the night, the wind howled and the rain beat down. The children slept soundly, but Mr. and Mrs. Seagrave, Ready, and William were awake during the whole of the night, listening to the storm, and occupied with their own thoughts.
Ready was dressed before daylight, and out on the beach before the sun had risen. The gale was at its height; and after a careful survey with his telescope, he could see nothing of the vessel. He remained on the beach till breakfast-time, when he was summoned by William, and returned to the house. He found Mr. and Mrs. Seagrave up, and more composed than they were the evening before; and they welcomed him warmly.
"I fear, Ready," said Mr. Seagrave, "that you have no good news for us."
"No, sir; nor can you expect any good news until after the gale is over. The vessel could not remain here during the gale - that is certain; and there is no saying what the effects of the gale may be. She may lie to, and not be far
"Yes, madam, if they can, I do think they will; but God knows, some men have hard hearts, and feel little for the misery of others."
The brig had, in the meantime, kept away again, as if she was running in; but very soon afterwards she hauled to the wind, with her head to the northward, and stood away from the island.
"She is leaving us," exclaimed William, mournfully.
"Hard-hearted wretches!" said Mr. Seagrave, with indignation.
"You are wrong to say that, sir," replied Ready: "excuse me, Mr. Seagrave, for being so bold; but the fact is, that if I was in command of that vessel, I should do just as they have done. The gale rises fast, and it would be very dangerous for them to remain where they now are. It does not at all prove that they intend to leave us; they but consult their own safety, and, when the gale is over, we shall, I trust, see them again."
No reply was made to Ready's judicious remarks. The Seagraves only saw that the vessel was leaving them, and their hearts sank. They watched her in silence, and as she gradually diminished to the view, so did their hopes depart from them. The wind was now fierce, and a heavy squall, with rain, obscured the offing, and the vessel was no longer to be distinguished. Mr. Seagrave turned to his wife, and mournfully offered her his arm. They walked away from the beach without speaking; the remainder of the party, with the exception of old Ready, followed them. Ready remained some time with his eyes in the direction where the vessel was last seen. At last he hauled down the ensign and flag, and, throwing them over his shoulder, followed the disconsolate party to the house.
Chapter XLIV
When Ready arrived, he found them all plunged in such deep distress, that he did not consider it advisable to say anything. The evening closed in; it was time to retire. The countenance of Mr. Seagrave was not only gloomy, but morose. The hour for retiring to rest had long passed when Ready broke the silence by saying, "Surely, you do not intend to sit up all night, Mr. Seagrave?"
"Oh, no! there's no use sitting up now," replied Mr. Seagrave, rising up impatiently. "Come, my dear, let us go to bed."
Mrs. Seagrave rose, and retired behind the canvas screen. Her husband seemed as if he was about to follow her, when Ready, without speaking, laid the Bible on the table before him. Mr. Seagrave did not appear to notice it; but William touched his father's arm, pointed to the book, and then went inside of the screen, and led out his mother.
"God forgive me!" exclaimed Mr. Seagrave. "In my selfishness and discontent I had forgotten--"
"Yes, sir, you had forgotten those words, `Come unto me, all ye who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.'"
"I am ashamed of myself," said Mrs. Seagrave, bursting into tears.
Mr. Seagrave opened the Bible, and read the psalm. As soon as he had closed the book, "good night" were all the words that passed, and they all retired to rest.
During the night, the wind howled and the rain beat down. The children slept soundly, but Mr. and Mrs. Seagrave, Ready, and William were awake during the whole of the night, listening to the storm, and occupied with their own thoughts.
Ready was dressed before daylight, and out on the beach before the sun had risen. The gale was at its height; and after a careful survey with his telescope, he could see nothing of the vessel. He remained on the beach till breakfast-time, when he was summoned by William, and returned to the house. He found Mr. and Mrs. Seagrave up, and more composed than they were the evening before; and they welcomed him warmly.
"I fear, Ready," said Mr. Seagrave, "that you have no good news for us."
"No, sir; nor can you expect any good news until after the gale is over. The vessel could not remain here during the gale - that is certain; and there is no saying what the effects of the gale may be. She may lie to, and not be far