Show Me the Sky - Nicholas Hogg [44]
And it is this love we need to guide us through tragedy.
The Rev. Jefferson, on seeing terror possess the faces of his flock, called a meeting of group prayer in the dining room. As the waves rained down and the lightning flashed, we joined hands and begged for His mercy. There was comfort in this union, though when the motion of the room is of a shaken box, the stomachs of those within are soon loosened. Mrs Stevens, much embarrassed by her nausea, insisted on leaving for fresher air. The Rev. Stevens accompanied her, and I too, considering her previous seasickness dementia.
Water had breached the quarterdeck hatch, and as the Rev. Stevens stepped after his wife, he lost his footing on the greasy boards, clutching at me as he fell and crashing us both to the floor. It was a mighty effort to rise, as each time we stood the Caroline tossed us back to the planks. But Mrs Stevens had already grabbed the handrail of the steps, and in her desperation to breathe fresh air, did not wait for her husband.
When we climbed on to the deck, Mrs Stevens was standing at the side as though it were a fine day for viewing. Both the rev. and I called out for her to return, but she was fixed to the railing in fear, riveted by the rise and fall of those monstrous seas. The Rev. Stevens shook himself free of my grip and ran across the slanting deck. The ship tilted so far over that the spars dipped in the sea, and the rev. almost shot clean overboard, his wife clutching out at her beloved husband. When the Caroline righted herself, bobbing on the swell like a cork in a stream, they were almost flung into the sky by the force of motion.
Then the Caroline sat bolt upright in the storm, defiant against the bludgeoning, a respite long enough for the rev. and his wife to embrace as a single soul, her delicate head in his hands of David, before a wave dashed them clean from the deck.
I took a coil of rope and ran to the rail, ready to cast out a lifeline and haul them from death. But there was nothing save those turbulent and boiling depths, and I prayed hard and loud to my dear Lord that He might find a seat for two more servants in His Kingdom of Heaven.
23 February 1835
Abated the rough seas may be, the memory of those raging waters and the souls it swept asunder remains. For the last week we have sailed upon a vessel in mourning. The flag at half-mast has been a memorial to those we have lost – the Rev. Stevens and his wife, along with four other crewmembers washed from the decks in the midst of the tempest.
Indeed, this sabbath was a solemn occasion, with the gloomy skies as leaden as our moods. The Rev. Jefferson gave a service in memory of ‘those swallowed by the stormy seas’, calling upon the Lord ‘to raise those just and dedicated souls into thy eternal care, and know that they perished on a crusade in the name of Jesus Christ’.
25 February 1835
Again the sun blazes on our billowing sails, and the Caroline, repaired and ready once more to race down the wind, makes a rapid advance on the shores of New Holland.
Soul and body we are strengthened by this fair weather, and our resolve to carry the torch of the Lord once more returned.
27 February 1835
Still no word from the Rev. Jefferson about a replacement for Rev. Stevens, though he assures me that my heathen brothers are no more or less important to the Lord than any other sinners.
I do not doubt the endeavours of the missionaries. Why would men and women from a land of plenty flout their lives so precariously upon these depths unless it was the Lord Himself who had commanded them forward? Yes, the white man has visited my shores before, other sailors who too risked the wrath of the waves to see our golden sands. But the whalers and sandalwood traders, the ships of war and escaping convicts, Capt. Bligh and his loyal charges, called only for their fruit and fish, freshwater and refuge, our women. And these ships and men, if not compelled to my lands in the name of God, were led by the lure of Satan and his meretricious dreams.