They found themselves on board the "Steadfast" at last. The day of
sailing was bright and beautiful, a perfect day for the sea, or the land
either; but the wind rose in the night and the rain came on, and a very
dreary morning broke on them as the last glimpse of land was fading in
the distance.
"Oh! how dismal!" murmured Graeme, as in utter discomfort she seated
herself on the damp deck, with her little sister in her arms. All the
rest, excepting her father, and not excepting Janet, were down with
sea-sickness, and even Norman and Harry had lost heart under its
depressing influence. Another hour in the close cabin, and Graeme felt
she must yield too--and then what would become of Rose? So into a mist
that was almost rain she came, as the day was breaking, and sat down
with her little sister upon the deck. For a minute she closed her eyes
on the dreariness around, and leaned her head on a hencoop at her side.
Rose had been fretful and uneasy all night, but now well pleased with
the new sights around her, she sat still on her sister's lap. Soon the
cheerful voice of the Captain, startled Graeme.
"Touch and go with you I see, Miss Elliott. I am afraid you will have
to give in like the rest."
Graeme looked up with a smile that was sickly enough.
"Not if I can help it," said she.
"Well, you are a brave lass to think of helping it with a face like
that. Come and take a quick walk up and down the deck with me. It will
do you good. Set down the bairn," for Graeme was rising with Rose in
her arms. "No harm will come to her, and you don't look fit to carry
yourself. Sit you there, my wee fairy, till we come back again. Here,
Ruthven," he called to a young man who was walking up and down on the
other side of the deck, "come and try your hand at baby tending. That
may be among the work required of you in the backwoods of Canada, who
knows?"
The young man came forward laughing, and Graeme submitted to be led
away. The little lady left on the deck seemed very much inclined to
resent the unceremonious disposal of so important a person, as she was
always made to feel herself to be. But she took a look into the face of
her new friend and thought better of it. His face was a good one, frank
and kindly, and Rose suffered herself to be lifted up and placed upon
his knee, and when Graeme came back again, after a brisk walk of fifteen
minutes, she found the little one, usually so fretful and "ill to do
with," laughing merrily in the stranger's arms. She would have taken
her, but Rose was pleased to stay.
"You are the very first stranger that ever she was willing to go to,"
said she, gratefully. Looking up, she did not wonder at Rosie's fancy
for the face that smiled down upon her.
"I ought to feel myself highly honoured," said he.
"I think we'll give him the benefit of little Missy's preference," said
Captain Armstrong, who had been watching Graeme with a little amused
anxiety since her walk was ended. The colour that the exercise had
given her was fast fading from her face, till her very lips grew white
with the deadly sickness that was coming over her.
"You had best go to the cabin a wee while. You must give up, I think,"
said he.
Graeme rose languidly.
"Yes, I'm afraid so. Come Rosie."
"Leave the little one with me," said Mr Ruthven. And that was the last
Graeme saw of Rosie for the next twelve hours, for she was not to escape
the misery that had fallen so heavily upon the rest, and very wearily
the day passed. It passed, however, at last, and the next, which was
calm and bright as heart could wish, saw them all on deck again. They
came with dizzy heads and uncertain steps it is true, but the sea air
soon brought colour to their cheeks, and strength to their limbs, and
their sea life fairly began.
But alas! for Janet. The third day, and the tenth found her still in
her berth, altogether unable to stand up against the power that held
her. In vain she struggled against it. The "Steadfast's" slightest
motion was sufficient to overpower her quite, till at last she made no
effort to rise, but lay there, disgusted with herself and all the world.
On the calmest and fairest days they would prevail on her to be helped
up to the deck, and there amid shawls and pillows she would sit,
enduring one degree less of misery than she did in the close cabin
below.
"It was just a judgment upon her," she said, "to let her see what a poor
conceited body she was. She, that had been making muckle o' herself, as
though the Lord couldna take care o' the bairns without her help."
It was not sufficient to be told hourly that the children were well and
happy, or to see it with her own eyes. This aggravated her trouble.
"Useless body that I am." And Janet did not wait for a sight of a
strange land, to begin to pine for the land she had left, and what with
sea-sickness and home-sickness together, she had very little hope that
she would ever see land of any kind again.
The lads and Marian enjoyed six weeks of perfect happiness. Graeme and
their father at first were in constant fear of their getting into
danger. It would only have provoked disobedience had all sorts of
climbing been forbidden, for the temptation to try to outdo each other
in their imitation of the sailors, was quite irresistible; and not a
rope in the rigging, nor a corner in the ship, but they were familiar
with before the first few days were over. "And, indeed, they were
wonderfully preserved, the foolish lads," their father acknowledged, and
grew content about them at last.
Before me lies the journal of the voyage, faithfully kept in a big book
given by Arthur for the purpose. A full and complete history of the six
weeks might be written from it, but I forbear. Norman or Harry, in
language obscurely nautical, notes daily the longitude or the latitude,
and the knots they make an hour. There are notices of whales, seen in
the distance, and of shoals of porpoises seen near at hand. There are
stories given which they have heard in the forecastle, and hints of
practical jokes and tricks played on one another. The history of each
sailor in the ship is given, from "handsome Frank, the first Yankee, and
the best-singer" the boys ever saw, to Father Abraham, the Dutchman,
"with short legs and shorter temper."
Graeme writes often, and daily bewails Janet's continued illness, and
rejoices over "wee Rosie's" improved health and temper. With her
account of the boys and their doings, she mingles emphatic wishes "that
they had more sense," but on the whole they are satisfactory. She has
much to say of the books she has been reading--"a good many of Sir
Walter Scott's that papa does not object to," lent by Allan Ruthven.
There are hints of discussions with him about the books, too; and Graeme
declares she "has no patience" with Allan. For his favourites in Sir
Walter's books are seldom those who are persecuted for righteousness'
sake; and there are allusions to battles fought with him in behalf of
the good name of the Old Puritans--men whom Graeme delights to honour.
But on the whole it is to be seen, that Allan is a favourite with her
and with them all.
The beautiful Bay of Boston was reached at last, and with an interest
that cannot be told, the little party--including the restored Janet--
regarded the city to which they were drawing near. Their ideas of what
they were to see first in the new world had been rather indefinite and
vague. Far more familiar with the early history of New England--with
such scenes as the landing of the pilgrims, and the departure of Roger
Williams to a still more distant wilderness, than with the history of
modern advance, it was certainly not such a city they had expected to
see. But they gazed with ever increasing delight, as they drew nearer
and nearer to it through the beautiful bay.
"And this is the wonderful new world, that promises so much to us all,"
said Allan.
"They have left unstained what there they found.
Freedom to worship God,"
murmured Graeme, softly. "I'm sure I shall like the American people."
But Allan was taking to heart the thought of parting from them all, more
than was at all reasonable, he said to himself, and he could not answer
her with a jest as he might at another time.
"You must write and tell me about your new home," said he.
"Yes--the boys will write; we will all write. I can hardly believe that
six weeks ago we had never seen you. Oh! I wish you were going with
us," said Graeme.
"Allan will see Arthur when he comes. Arthur will want to see all the
country," said Norman.
"And maybe he will like the Queen's dominions best, and wish to settle
there," said Allan.
"Oh! but we shall see you long before Arthur comes," said Graeme. "Is
it very far to Canada?"
"I don't know--not very far, I suppose. I don't feel half so hopeful
now that I am about to know what my fate is to be. I have a great dread
on me. I have a mind not to go to my uncle at all, but seek my fortune
here."
"But your mother wouldna be pleased," said Graeme, gravely.
"No. She has great hopes of what my uncle may do for me. But it would
be more agreeable to me not to be confined to one course. I should like
to look about me a little, before I get fairly into the treadmill of
business."
In her heart Graeme thought it an excellent thing for Allan that he had
his uncle to go to. She had her own ideas about young people's looking
about them, with nothing particular to do, and quite agreed with Janet
and Dr Watts as to the work likely to be found for them to do. But she
thought it would be very nice for them all, if instead of setting off at
once for Canada, Allan might have gone with them for a little while.
Before she could say this, however, Janet spoke.
"Ay, that's bairn-like, though you hae a man's stature. I dare say you
would think it a braw thing to be at naebody's bidding; but, my lad,
it's ae' thing to hae a friend's house, and a welcome waiting you in a
strange land like this, and it's anither thing to sit solitary in a bare
lodging, even though you may hae liberty to come and go at your ain
will. If you're like the lads that I ken' maist about, you'll be none
the worse of a little wholesome restraint. Be thankful for your
mercies."
Allan laughed good-humouredly.
"But really, Mrs Nasmyth, you are too hard on me. Just think what a
country this is. Think of the mountains, and rivers and lakes, and of
all these wonderful forests and prairies that Norman reads about, and is
it strange that I should grudge myself to a dull counting-room, with all
these things to enjoy? It is not the thought of the restraint that
troubles me. I only fear I shall become too soon content with the
routine, till I forget how to enjoy anything but the making and counting
of money. I am sure anything would be better than to come to that."
"You'll hae many things between you and the like o' that, if you do your
duty. You have them you are going to, and them you hae left--your
mother and brother. And though you had none o' them, you could aye find
some poor body to be kind to, to keep your heart soft. Are you to bide
in your uncle's house?"
"I don't know. Mrs Peter Stone, that was home last year, told us that
my uncle lives in the country, and his clerks live in the town anywhere
they like. I shall do as the rest do I suppose. All the better--I
shall be the more able to do what I like with my leisure."
"Ay, it's aye liberty that the like o' you delight in. Weel, see that
you make a good use of it, that's the chief thing. Read your Bible and
gang to the kirk, and there's no fear o' you. And dinna forget to write
to your mother. She's had many a weary thought about you 'ere this
time, I'll warrant."
"I daresay I shall be content enough. But it seems like parting from
home again, to think of leaving you all. My bonnie wee Rosie, what
shall I ever do without you?" said Allan, caressing the little one who
had clambered on his knee.
"And what shall we do without you?" exclaimed a chorus of voices; and
Norman added,--
"What is the use of your going all the way to Canada, when there's
enough for you to do here. Come with us, Allan, man, and never mind
your uncle."
"And what will you do for him, in case he should give his uncle up for
you?" demanded Janet, sharply.
"Oh! he'll get just what we'll get ourselves, a chance to make his own
way, and I doubt whether he'll get more where he's going. I've no faith
in rich uncles." Allan laughed.
"Thank you, Norman, lad. I must go to Canada first, however, whether I
stay there or not. Maybe you will see me again, sooner than I think
now. Surely, in the great town before us, there might be found work,
and a place for me."
Far-away before them, stretched the twinkling lights of the town, and
silence fell upon them as they watched them. In another day they would
be among the thousands who lived, and laboured, and suffered in it.
What awaited them there? Not that they feared the future, or doubted a
welcome. Indeed, they were too young to think much of possible evils.
A new life was opening before them, no fear but it would be a happy one.
Graeme had seen more trouble than the rest, being older, and she was
naturally less hopeful, but then she had no fear for them all, only the
thought that they were about to enter on a new, untried life, made her
excited and anxious, and the thought of parting with their friend made
her sad.
As for Janet, she was herself again. Her courage returned when the
sea-sickness departed, and now she was ready "to put a stout heart to a
stiff brae" as of old. "Disjaskit looking" she was, and not so strong
as she used to be, but she was as active as ever, and more than thankful
to be able to keep her feet again. "She had been busy all the morning,"
overhauling the belongings of the family, preparatory to landing, much
to the discomfort of all concerned. All the morning Graeme had
submitted with a passably good grace to her cross-questionings as to the
"guiding" of this and that, while she had been unable to give personal
supervision to family matters. Thankful to see her at her post again,
Graeme tried to make apparent her own good management of matters in
general, during the voyage, but she was only partially successful.
There were far more rents and stains, and soiled garments, than Janet
considered at all necessary, and besides many familiar articles of
wearing apparel were missing, after due search made. In vain Graeme
begged her never to mind just now. They were in the big blue chest, or
the little brown one, she couldna just mind where she had put them, but
of course they would be found, when all the boxes were opened.
"Maybe no," said Janet. "There are some long fingers, I doubt, in the
steerage yonder. Miss Graeme, my dear, we would need to be carefu'. If
I'm no' mistaken, I saw one o' Norman's spotted handkerchiefs about the
neck o' yon lang Johnny Heeman, and yon little Irish lassie ga'ed past
me the day, with a pinafore very like one o' Menie's. I maun ha' a look
at it again."
"Oh, Janet! never mind. I gave wee Norah the pinafore, and the old
brown frock besides. She had much need of them. And poor Johnny came
on board on the pilot boat you ken, and he hadna a change, and Norman
gave him the handkerchief and an old waistcoat of papa's,--and--"
Janet's hands were uplifted in consternation.
"Keep's and guide's lassie--that I should say such a word. Your papa
hadna an old waistcoat in his possession. What for did you do the like
o' that? The like o' Norman or Menie might be excused, but you that I
thought had some sense and discretion. Your father's waistcoat! Heard
anybody ever the like? You may be thankful that you hae somebody that
kens the value of good clothes, to take care of you and them--"
"Oh! I'm thankful as you could wish," said Graeme, laughing. "I would
rather see you sitting there, in the midst of those clothes, than to see
the Queen on her throne. I confess to the waistcoat, and some other
things, but mind, I'm responsible no longer. I resign my office of
general caretaker to you. Success to you," and Graeme made for the
cabin stairs. She turned again, however.
"Never heed, Janet, about the things. Think what it must be to have no
change, and we had so many. Poor wee Norah, too. Her mother's dead you
ken, and she looked so miserable."
Janet was pacified.
"Weel, Miss Graeme, I'll no' heed. But my dear, it's no' like we'll
find good clothes growing upon trees in this land, more than in our own.
And we had need to be careful. I wonder where a' the strippet pillow
slips can be? I see far more of the fine ones dirty than were needed,
if you had been careful, and guarded them."
But Graeme was out of hearing before she came to this.
They landed at last, and a very dreary landing it was. They had waited
for hours, till the clouds should exhaust themselves, but the rain was
still falling when they left the ship. Eager and excited, the whole
party were, but not after the anticipated fashion. Graeme was
surprised, and a little mortified, to find no particular emotions
swelling at her heart, as her feet touched the soil which the Puritans
had rendered sacred. Indeed, she was too painfully conscious, that the
sacred soil was putting her shoes and frock in jeopardy, and had too
much trouble to keep the umbrella over Marian and herself, to be able to
give any thanks to the sufferings of the Pilgrim fathers, or mothers
either. Mr Elliott had been on shore in the morning, and had engaged
rooms for them in a quiet street, and thither Allan Ruthven, carrying
little Rose, was to conduct them, while he attended to the proper
bestowment of their baggage.
This duty Janet fain would have shared with him. Her reverence for the
minister, and his many excellencies, did not imply entire confidence in
his capacity, for that sort of business, and when he directed her to go
with the bairns, it was with many misgivings that she obeyed. Indeed,
as the loaded cart took its departure in another direction, she
expressed herself morally certain, that they had seen the last of it,
for she fully believed that, "yon sharp-looking lad could carry it off
from beneath the minister's nose."
Dread of more distant evils was, however, driven from her thoughts by
present necessities. The din and bustle of the crowded wharf, would
have been sufficient to "daze" the sober-minded country-woman, without
the charge of little Will, and unnumbered bundles, and the two "daft
laddies forby." On their part, Norman and Harry scorned the idea of
being taken care of, and loaded with baskets and other movables, made
their way through the crowd, in a manner that astonished the bewildered
Janet.
"Bide a wee, Norman, man. Harry, you daft laddie, where are you going?
Now dinna throw awa' good pennies for such green trash." For Harry had
made a descent on a fruit stall, and his pockets were turned inside out
in a twinkling.
"Saw ever anybody such cheatry," exclaimed Janet, as the dark lady
pocketed the coins with a grin, quite unmindful of her expostulations.
"Harry lad, a fool and his money is soon parted. And look! see here,
you hae set down the basket in the dubs, and your sister's bed gowns
will be all wet. Man! hae you no sense?"
"Nae muckle, I doubt, Janet," said Harry, with an exaggerated gesture of
humility and penitence, turning the basket upside down, to ascertain the
extent of the mischief. "It's awfu' like Scotch dubs, now isn't it?
Never mind, I'll give it a wash at the next pump, and it 'ill he none
the worse. Give me Will's hand, and I'll take care of him."
"Take care o' yourself, and leave Will with me. But, dear me, where's
Mr Allan?" For their escort had disappeared, and she stood alone, with
the baskets and the boys in the rainy street. Before her consternation
had reached a climax, however, Ruthven reappeared, having safely
bestowed the others in their lodgings. Like a discreet lad, as Janet
was inclined to consider him, he possessed himself of Will, and some of
the bundles, and led the way. At the door stood the girls, anxiously
looking out for them.
If their hostess had, at first, some doubt as to the sanity of her new
lodgers, there was little wonder. Such a confusion of tongues her
American ears had not heard before. Graeme condoled with Will, who was
both wet and weary. Janet searched for missing bundles, and bewailed
things in general. Marian was engaged in a friendly scuffle for an
apple, and Allan was tossing Rosie up to the ceiling, while Norman,
perched on the bannisters high above them all, waved his left hand,
bidding farewell, with many words, to an imaginary Scotland, while with
his right he beckoned to the "brave new world" which was to be the scene
of his wonderful achievements and triumphs.
The next day rose bright and beautiful. Mr Elliott had gone to stay
with his friend Mr Caldwell, and Janet was over head and ears in a
general "sorting" of things, and made no objections when it was proposed
that the boys and Graeme should go out with Allan Ruthven to see the
town. It is doubtful whether there was ever so much of Boston seen in
one day before, without the aid of a carriage and pair. It was a day
never to be forgotten by the children. The enjoyment was not quite
unmixed to Graeme, for she was in constant fear of losing some of them.
Harry was lost sight of for a while, but turned up again with a chapter
of adventures at his finger ends for their amusement.
The crowning enjoyment of the day was the treat given by Allan Ruthven
on their way home. They were very warm and tired, and hungry too, and
the low, cool room down some steps into which they were taken, was
delightful. There was never such fruit--there were never such cakes as
these that were set before them. As for the ice cream, it was--
inexpressible. In describing the feast afterwards, Marian could never
get beyond the ice cream. She was always at a loss for adjectives to
describe it. It was like the manna that the Children of Israel had in
the wilderness, she thought, and surely they ought to have been content
with it.
Graeme was the only one who did not enjoy it thoroughly. She had an
idea that there were not very many guineas left in Allan's purse, and
she felt bound to remonstrate with him because of his extravagance.
"Never mind, Graeme, dear," said Norman; "Allan winna have a chance to
treat us to manna this while again; and when I am Mayor of Boston, I'll
give him manna and quails too."
They came home tired, but they had a merry evening. Even Graeme
"unbent," as Harry said, and joined in the mirth; and Janet had enough
to do to reason them into quietness when bed-time came.
"One would think when Mr Allan is going away in the morning, you might
have the grace to seem sorry, and let us have a while's peace," said
she.
If the night was merry, the morning farewells were sad indeed, and long,
long did they wait in vain for tidings of Allan Ruthven.