THE SHIP COMES TO AN ANCHOR, AND THE BOOK TO A CLOSE.
The next morning, Flora hastened upon deck; but while there, the wind
was still so high, and the waves so rough, that she could not stand
without holding to the ropes. The sea was covered with foam, the heavens
with flying rack, which rolled in huge broken masses round and round the
horizon. The land was no longer in sight, and old ocean roared and
tossed in his unrest, as a strong man raves and tosses in the delirium
of fever.
"The white mice are out this morning, Mrs. Lyndsay," said Bob Motion,
who was at his old post at the helm. "Miss Josey's cradle, I'm thinking,
was well rocked last night. We are now running right afore the gale. The
skipper was out of his reckoning altogether. It's a mercy the ship did
not founder on that cursed shore."
At noon the storm abated, with a fair wind.
"If this lasts, we shall have a glorious run," said Mr. Collins, laying
down his knife and fork at dinner, "and shall most likely get clear of
Anticosti before morning."
They passed this dangerous island during the night.
"I am sorry," said Flora, "that we did not see it."
"You should rather thank God, Mrs. Lyndsay; but don't be too sure--we
may see too much of it yet."
The Captain's words were prophetic. Three days of stormy weather and
contrary winds found the vessel tossing between Charleroi Bay and the
dismal coast, whose dreary aspect sailors view with such fear. The
setting sun shone upon the white rocky cliffs of Cape Gaspe, and the
fantastic rocks which surround that romantic bay; and his rising beams
gleamed upon the sandy beach and desolate shores of Anticosti, with its
grey forests of storm-stunted trees of horrid growth, that looked the
fitting abode of the savage bear and wolf.
In Chaleur Bay they caught some fresh fish, which was indeed a
seasonable mercy, as it had become painfully evident that their stock of
provisions could not hold out many days longer.
On the 25th of August they took in a pilot off Cape Rosier, who brought
some fresh provisions in his boat, and the fearful intelligence, that
the cholera was raging at Quebec, and spreading into the Upper Province.
This piece of information threw a damp upon the spirits of all. They had
escaped the dangers of the sea, only to encounter the more terrible
peril of the pestilence. "What must be, must--we all know that," said
Boreas. "No man that knows me would call me a coward; but I'll confess
the truth--I'm afraid of this infernal cholera; I'll be d---- if I
aren't."
Every one had some prophetic fear or foreboding on the subject. Persons
who had not trembled during the storm, turned pale and shuddered when
the pestilence was named.
Geordie Muckleroy alone seemed perfectly indifferent about it. "That
man's sic a muckle sumph, he's no afeard o' onything," said Mrs.
Mackenzie, the dragoon's little drunken wife. "The night o' the storm he
must put his heid above the gangway to spier about it; and sic a glour
as he gied at the sea, I'se never forget to my deein day. 'What's a'
this muckle din?' quo' he. 'Why, man, we are a' like to be drown'd in
the salt brine. It's an awfu' storm,' said my husband--'Come up, an'
lend a han' wi' the ropes.'"
"'The deil may tak' the ropes for what I care,' quo' he; 'I'll no fash
mysel' about ropes, or ony thin' else, the night. I'll jest gang awa'
comfortably to my ain bed, an' tak' it easy.' An' to bed he went, sure
eneugh, though his puir wife was tearing her hair, an' skirlin' for
fear, the hale night."
The pilot, among the stores he brought on board, had nothing so tempting
to Flora as a box of raisins, which Lyndsay purchased for her, and
which were opened for the benefit of all in the cabin.
"You had better put those things out of sight, they'll give you the
cholera," said Boreas. "They wouldn't be so bad in a pudding," he
continued musingly--"Suppose you give some of them to Hanibal, to make
into a plum-pudding. There is some flour left; it's a little musty, to
be sure, but hungry dogs--you know the rest."
Flora piqued herself on making a good plum-pudding; she volunteered to
prepare it for the cook, and Sam Fraser provided her with flour, water,
and a board and pudding bag.
"I want eggs, Sam."
"Eggs, Ma'am?--no eggs to be had."
"Milk."
"The cow arn't calved that' to pervide that."
"Well, get me some suet."
"None in the ship. Only a little rancid butter."
"Take away the flour and the board. The idea of making a plum-pudding
out of putrid water, musty flour, and raisins, is too ridiculous."
"Give me some of the raisins," said Sam, "and Hanibal will make a sea
plum-pudding."
"I wonder what it will be like!" And Flora laughed, as she gave him as
many raisins as he required.
It was amusing to watch the Captain at dinner, playing the petty tyrant
over the poor French pilot, on to whose plate he chucked the outside
slice of the hard, tough beef, as if he had been throwing a bone to a
dog.
The pilot showed his white teeth, and his dark eyes blazed as he flashed
them full in the Captain's face, and, throwing the meat back into the
dish, he strode from the table.
"Brother," said Collins, a name he seldom applied to the Captain, and
only when he wished to impress him particularly on any important
subject, "you had better try anither tack wi' the pilot. That won't do.
He's a proud, high-spirited fellow; he'll no stand ony nonsense."
"He may sit it, then. I'll treat him as I please."
"Then he'll leave you to navigate the St. Lawrence alone."
The Captain shrugged his shoulders, and said nothing.
"Let me ca' him back to the table, and apologise."
"Call him back if you like; but, d---- the apology!"
"I'll mak' it straight," cried Collins; and, leaving the cabin, he soon
returned with the Frenchman, followed by Sam and the sea-pudding, who,
placing it before the Captain with a most impressive air, looked
triumphantly across the table at Mrs. Lyndsay.
"A nice piece of duff that, Sam," said Boreas, striking his knife and
fork into the fair sides of the jolly white pudding.
"Wery nice, Sir," responded Sam.
"This your manufacturing, Mrs. L.?"
Flora shook her head.--"I was not going to disgrace the national dish by
compounding it of such materials."
"You have been stingy of the plums, Sam. They are scarcely within hail
of each other."
"He should have told the cook to whistle while he was picking them,"
said Flora, laughing. "I gave out plenty for a large, rich pudding."
"I'll help the youngsters first," said Boreas, handing a large slice to
James Hawke; "boys love duff."
The first mouthful was enough for poor Jim. He made a horrid face, and
pushed back his plate.
"Hey! what's the matter with the lad?"
"Oh!" said Jim, hurrying from the table. "I shall never be able to eat
plum-pudding again."
The pudding looked so clean and nice, that Flora was tempted to taste
it. She no longer wondered at the boy's disgust. It was made with rancid
fat, bad water, and boiled in the sea-brine. To a stomach unaccustomed
to such dainties, it was unpalatable in the highest degree. Yet the
Captain, Mate, and Pilot ate of it, and pronounced it excellent.
"I knew how it would be," said Flora; "and yet I am baby enough to be
disappointed at the result."
"The child has quarrelled with its pudding," said Boreas, "and left more
for us. It's an ill wind that blows no one any good."
"Pray don't call it my pudding, Captain. I disown it altogether. There
is nothing English about it."
Hannah, who had recovered her health and usefulness in a miraculous
manner, since her master's quarrel with the Captain, at any rate showed
an English appetite while discussing the execrable mess. Flora, who was
really hungry, and longing for wholesome food, envied her the zest with
which she demolished slice after slice, and still kept sending up her
plate for more.
That night they were given an awful specimen of a Canadian
thunder-storm. The atmosphere was literally a-blaze with the lightning,
while heaven's dread artillery burst continuously overhead, the long
mountain-chain, on the north side of the river, hurling it back from all
its rocky caverns in one deep unbroken round.
It was a night of awful and terrific beauty. Flora had never beheld its
parallel in the old country--had never seen such electric flashes of
blinding light, nor heard such ear-splitting peals of thunder. For the
first time their dangerous freight flashed upon her mind; she remembered
the gunpowder, and clung closer to the arm of her husband.
"See how the lightning plays upon the iron rings and bolts which fasten
the sails to the mast--what if it should strike the ship, dear John?"
"Don't anticipate evil, Flora. There may be danger, but as we can
neither escape from it, nor avert it, if it comes, it is better not to
dwell upon it."
"It would be a bad job for us a'," said Mr. Collins. "But if it sud
happen, we should be blown to pieces with the ship, an' ken nothing
about it. I canna imagine an easier death."
"The very suddenness of it makes it appear to me so dreadful," said
Flora. "It is not pleasant to know that you are standing over a volcano,
which one spark might ignite, and scatter you in fragments into the air
and waters. Are these storms common in Canada?"
"I dinna ken," returned Collins; "this is my first voyage."
"They are of frequent occurrence, Mrs. Lyndsay," said Mr. Wright, who
happened to be passing, "and are often accompanied with dreadful
hurricanes, that sweep down every thing which obstructs their course.
The awful fire at Miramichi, which took place a few years ago, and which
burnt up half the forests in the country, was supposed to have been
kindled by lightning. I happened to be there at the time; and though
staying in a cleared part of the country, with a relation of my wife,
the appearance that the fire made was so terrible that it often haunts
me in dreams."
The cabin was so close, and the lightning so vivid, that Flora, in spite
of the rain, preferred walking the deck until the storm subsided, which
it did before day-break, when she retired to bed,
"And sleep protracted came with double power."
The next day brought both the beautiful shores of the St. Lawrence in
sight, and Flora remained chained to her post on the deck from morning
until night; her eyes never weary of dwelling upon the glorious river,
its romantic islands, and magnificent banks.
What a noble panorama the St. Lawrence would make--to follow all the
windings of this matchless stream, from Grosse Ile, through its chain of
inland seas! Perhaps no country in the world could present finer
subjects for such a work; with water so pure--skies so blue--rock,
mountain and forest so vast--and cities, towns and villages along its
shores placed in such picturesque and imposing situations. A pictorial
map of Canada could alone give a just idea of the beauty and importance
of this great country to the good folks at home. Then consider the
adjuncts of such a landscape--the falls of Montmorency, and God's
masterpiece, Niagara. The panorama of its Upper and Lower Mississippi
would lose half their beauty, when contrasted with the panorama of the
St. Lawrence, with its tumultuous rapids and thousand isles.
An old friend of Mrs. Lyndsay, who had visited almost every country, had
assured her that nothing he had ever seen during his travels through the
world surpassed in grandeur and beauty the shores of the St. Lawrence,
Rio Janeiro alone excepted; and so well had he described every
remarkable scene on their passage up the river, that Flora instantly
recognised the spot from the vivid pictures he had given her of them
from memory.
How she longed to land upon the lovely islands which continually glided
past them! Some of these were partly cultivated, and neat white
farm-houses peeped out from the midst of orchards glowing with ripe
fruits, and the first gorgeous tints of the Canadian fall. On the south
shores of the river, the wheat was still standing in the sheaf upon the
yellow uplands, and the forest and the harvest changing colour, and
blending their rich hues into a splendid harmony of the bright and
beautiful. As if to atone for the long, cold winter (and yet how
charming that winter is!) Nature puts on royal robes to cover her decay;
and autumn, which in other countries is so melancholy and sober in her
russet dress, is, in Canada, the most attractive and delightful season
of the four. Who does not prefer it to the warm, humid, leafless
spring?--to the blazing sun, cloudless skies, and enervating heat of
summer?--or to the cold, bright blue and silver sheen of the spotless
winter?
On the 29th of August they passed Crane Island, the beautiful domain of
Mr. Macpherson, on the north side of the river; and early on the morning
of the 30th, the _Anne_ cast her anchor opposite Grosse Ile.
And here we shall leave our emigrants, in the bustle, confusion, and
excitement of preparing to go on shore, having described the voyage from
thence to Quebec and up the St. Lawrence elsewhere.
If any of my readers should feel interested in the fate of the Lyndsays,
we will briefly add, by way of postscript, all we know concerning them.
The Lyndsays settled upon wild land, and suffered, for some years, great
hardships in the Backwoods. Ultimately Mr. Lyndsay obtained an official
appointment, which enabled him to remove his wife and family to one of
the fast-rising and flourishing towns of the Upper Province, where they
have since resided in great happiness and comfort, and no longer regret
their voyage to Canada, but bless the kind Providence which led them
hither.
As an illustration of that protecting and merciful interposition, so
often manifested by the Great Father to his dependent children, we must
here add, that the two disastrous trips to sea related in the former
part of these volumes, by preventing the Lyndsays from taking passage to
Canada in the _Chieftain_, in all probability were the means of
preserving them from falling victims to the cholera, as all the
passengers in that unfortunate vessel perished with the fatal epidemic.
The _Rachel_, the ship to which Flora felt such an unconquerable
objection, was wrecked upon the banks of Newfoundland, after having been
twelve weeks at sea. The Captain was made a prisoner, and confined
during the greater part of the voyage to his cabin by his brutal sons,
while many of her passengers died of small-pox and want of food.
How kind, then, was the Providence that watched over our poor emigrants;
although, like the rest of the world, they were tempted to murmur at the
provoking delay, nor could discover the beam in the dark cloud, until
the danger was past, and they had leisure to reflect upon the great
perils they had escaped, and the mercies they had received from the
Almighty Disposer of all human destinies.
Musa, King of Grenada, owed his elevation to the throne to a delay of
five minutes: when he requested the executioner, whom his jealous
brother had sent to the prison to take his head, to allow him that brief
space until he had checkmated the gaoler, with whom he was playing a
game at chess, the grim official reluctantly consented. Before the time
expired, a tumult in the city dethroned his brother, and gave Musa his
crown. How much he owed to that one move at chess! Could that be merely
accidental, on which the fate of a nation and the lives of thousands
were staked?
So with the Lyndsays. The storm--the fog--the lost passage in the
_Chieftain_--the presentiment against sailing in the _Rachel_--though
apparently _very trifling_ circumstances, formed most important links in
their destiny. Reader, have faith in Providence. A good father is never
indifferent to the welfare of his child--still less a merciful God!
THE END.
R. CLAY, PRINTER, BREAD STREET HILL.
Transcriber's Note:
Punctuation has been standardised. Variations in spelling have been
retained as they appear in the original publication. Changes have been
made as follows:
Page 26
pannelling of his berth
panelling of his berth
Page 29
through the Moray Frith
through the Moray Firth
the stormy Pentland Frith
the stormy Pentland Firth
Page 41
lighest and cheapest description
lightest and cheapest description
Page 43
A sadler by trade
A saddler by trade
Page 57
stay in Canady
stay in Canada
Page 65
half-covered with carotty whiskers
half-covered with carrotty whiskers
man overbeard!--a man overboard!
man overboard!--a man overboard!
Page 66
succeeded in throw-over
succeeded in throwing over
Page 80
locomotion wese lost to
locomotion were lost to
Page 95
while Mary inly
while Mary only
Page 104
quar-quarters.' When he saw that
quarters.' When he saw that
Page 108
awsome to hear him talk
awesome to hear him talk
Page 113
a tablespoonfnl of salt into
a tablespoonful of salt into
Page 157
is a strage fluttering at
is a strange fluttering at
Page 197
He answered, "That it depended
He answered, that it depended
Page 213
He was the Squire's
He was the 'Squire's
Page 253
the beautifu young girl brought
the beautiful young girl brought
Page 272
buscuit, you will be called
biscuit, you will be called
Page 273
buscuit--not a morsel of
biscuit--not a morsel of
Page 276
a couple of tablespoonfulls
a couple of tablespoonfuls
Page 287
it's a _feathe_!" and his shrill
it's a _feather_!" and his shrill
Page 290
and lifting the mattrass
and lifting the mattress