EMBARKATION--ABDUCTION EXTRAORDINARY--EFFORTS TO ESCAPE--ALTERNATE HOPES
AND FEARS--DESPAIR--VESSEL IN THE DISTANCE--RENEWED HOPES AND
EFFORTS--WATER-SPOUT--FLASH OF LIGHTNING AND ITS EFFECTS--MAKING FOR
SHORE--GRATEFUL ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many visions that night danced before the young sleepers--prancing deer
with bright eyes and branching horns; turkeys running, flying,
fluttering; white tents, mossy beds, and all the wild scenes of woodland
life. They were up and dressed at daybreak. The wind was fair, and the
day promised to be fine. Frank’s little feet were pattering over the
whole house and yard, carrying him into everybody’s way, on the pretence
of rendering assistance. There was one useful suggestion which he made.
He had gone to each room and corner in the house, saying "good-bye" to
every person and thing, chairs, tables, and all, when at last he came to
his father’s cloak and umbrella, kept in the same corner.
"Good-bye, umbrella," said he, "but as for you, good Mr. Cloak, father
will want you to sleep on. Poor umbrella! are you not sorry? Don’t you
want to go too? But, father!" he cried, running into the next room,
"had we not better carry the umbrella? Maybe we shall need it."
"That is a good idea, Master Frank," said his father. "Do you take
charge of the umbrella, as a part of your office, and see it put into
the boat."
Frank ran back to the room he had left, and taking the umbrella from its
corner, he said, "O ho, my little fellow, father says you may go. Are
you not glad I asked for you? But you must be a good boy, and not put
yourself in anybody’s way. Come now, spread your wings, and let me see
how glad you look."
He opened the umbrella, and flapped it several times to make it look
lively, then closed it, and set it beside the cloak where it belonged.
Presently he heard the tinkle of a little silver bell, and knew that it
was the signal for family prayers. He went to the breakfast-room, and
took his seat.
Dr. Gordon’s children were well versed in the Scriptures, and were
remarkably attentive during the reading of them. Perhaps one secret of
this fact was to be found in their father’s practice of stopping every
few verses during the family reading to ask them questions on what had
been read, and briefly to explain what they could not otherwise
comprehend. This morning the children observed that the chapter read
was remarkably appropriate to their circumstances, and that the Doctor
prayed particularly that the Lord would preserve them from all sin and
harm during their excursion; that he would preside over their pleasures,
and that he would make their temporary absence the means of their
knowing him better, and loving him more.
They breakfasted as the sun was rising. While at table no one could
speak of anything but the voyage and the island, and what they expected
to see, do, and enjoy. The boat was at the wharf, which had been
erected for the brig. It was packed, and ready for departure, with the
exception of a few things to be carried by hand. William had
breakfasted at the same time with the family, and now came in, saying,
"All ready, sir."
"Come, children," said Dr. Gordon, "let us go."
"Come, umbrella," said Frank, "you are to go with me."
"O, father," exclaimed Mary, as they approached the shore, "there is
Nanny with her sweet little kids. See how anxiously she looks at the
boat, and tries to say, ’Do let me go too.’ Had we not better take her?
She is so tame; and then you are so fond of milk in your coffee."
"I doubt," he replied, "whether there will be room for dogs, goats, and
ourselves too. But we can easily determine; and as I know that all of
you are as fond of milk as I am, I will let her go if there is room."
They took their places, Dr. Gordon at the helm, Robert and Harold
amidships, Mary and Frank next to their father, and William in the bow.
Everything had been stowed so snugly away, and the boat was withal so
roomy, that Nanny and her kids were invited to a place.
"Now, children, for order’s sake," said Dr. Gordon, "I will assign the
bow of the boat, where William is, to Nanny and her kids; Fidelle must
lie here by Frank and Mum may go with Harold. Mary, call your pet, and
have her in her place."
A word about the dogs. Fidelle was a beautiful and high-blooded
spaniel, that might have been taught anything which a dog could learn,
but whose only accomplishments as yet were of a very simple character,
and confined chiefly to such tricks as were a source of amusement to her
little master. Mum was a large, ugly, rough-looking cur, whose value
would never have been suspected from his appearance. He was brave,
faithful, and sagacious; strong, swift-footed, and obedient. But his
chief value consisted in his education. He came from the pine barrens
of Georgia, where Dr. Gordon had first seen and purchased him, and where
he had been trained, according to the custom of the wild woodsmen there,
to hunt silently; and in following the trail of a deer or turkey to keep
just in advance of his master, and to give suitable indications of being
near the object of pursuit. Mum was no common dog; and he proved of
inestimable service to the young adventurers in their coming
difficulties.
"Draw in the anchor, William, while I cast off at the stern," said Dr.
Gordon. "But hold! let us see what that means." He pointed with his
finger to a horseman, who turned a point on the beach, and seeing them
about to depart, waved his hat to say "stop!" The horseman rode at full
speed, and soon was within speaking distance. He bore a note from the
surgeon at Fort Brooke, requesting the loan of a certain instrument
which Dr. Gordon had promised when on his visit, and for which there was
now a sudden call.
"Keep your places, children," said the Doctor. "I shall be gone only
five minutes. William, do you take my place, and keep the boat steady
by holding to this frame."
He ascended the wharf, went with the soldier to the house, and was
absent a very few minutes; but during that interval an event occurred
which separated them for a long, long time and made them oftentimes fear
that they should never more meet in this world.
The position of the boat at the wharf was peculiar. Her stern had been
lashed to the timbers, for the purpose of keeping it steady, until all
had entered; and the bow was kept to its place by the anchor dropped
into the two and half fathoms water, which "was had" there at high tide.
The fastening to the stern having been cast off, preparatory to leaving,
William was now holding to the wharf, awaiting his master’s return.
This was not long after sunrise, at which moment they had heard the
report of a cannon unusually loud from the fort. Scarcely had Dr.
Gordon disappeared from the bluff, when the young people noticed a heavy
ripple of the water, between them and the fort, indicating that it was
disturbed by a multitude of very large fish, moving with rapidity
towards the sea.
"What can they be?" was a question which all asked, with a curiosity not
unmixed with fear, as they looked upon the approaching waves. William
held firmly to the pier head, that the boat should not be moved too
roughly by the disturbed water.
"Mas’ Robert," said he, with anxious, dilating eyes, "I do believe it is
a school of dem debbil-fish. Yes," and his eyes grew wild and his lips
became ashy, "dey making right for dis pint."[#]
[#] The following is a description of the hideous monster known in our
waters as the Devil Fish.
It is a flat fish, belonging to the family of Rays, and usually measures
somewhere between ten and twenty feet from tip to tip of its wings. On
each side of its mouth is a flexible arm, with which the animal grasps
and feeds. It appears to be as remarkable for its stupidity as it is
for its size, strength, and ugliness, seldom letting go anything which
it once seizes with its arms. A few years since, one was discovered dead
upon a mud flat near St. Mary’s, Georgia, grasping even in death a
strong stake of which it had taken hold during high water. The incident
related in the following pages is in perfect keeping with the habits of
the fish. There are hundreds of persons now living, who recollect a
similar adventure which took place in the bay of Charleston. On every
occasion of serious alarm the fish makes for the deep water of the
ocean, and sometimes so frantically as to run high and dry ashore.
Whoever wishes to read more on this subject, can do so by referring to a
volume called "Carolina Sports," in which the author (Hon. William
Elliott), sketches with lively and graphic pen some most adventurous
scenes, in which he himself was principal actor.
The children sprang to their feet, and made a rush to the stern, in the
effort to get out of the boat, but William put his hand against them,
and exclaimed piteously, "Back! Mas’ Robert--Mas’ Harrol! All of you!
You habn’t time to git out! Here dey come! Down on your seats! For
massy’s sake, down! ebery body!"
They were about to obey, when there was a whirl, and then a jerk of the
boat, that threw them flat on their faces. They heard William’s voice
crying hoarsely, "O Lord hab----;" and when they arose and looked
around, they saw that he was missing, and that their boat was rushing
onward with a swiftness that made the water boil.
"William! William!" Robert called in bewilderment; but no answer came,
and they saw him no more.
"O mercy! Brother Robert! cousin Harold!" cried Mary, "what is the
matter?"
Robert looked vacantly towards the receding shore. Harold answered, "One
of these fish has tripped our anchor, and is carrying us out to sea."
The horrid truth was evident; and it sent a chill like death through
their limbs and veins. Mary screamed and fell back senseless. Robert
started up as though about to spring from the boat. Harold covered his
face with his hands, gave one groan, then with compressed lips and
expanded nostrils hastened to the bow of the boat. As for poor little
Frank, it was not for some moments that he could realize the state of
the case; but when he did, his exhibition of distress was affecting. He
stretched his hands towards home; and as he saw his father running to
the bluff, he called out, "O, father, help us--dear father! O send a
boat after us! O----!" Perceiving his father fall upon his knees and
clasp his hands in prayer, he cried out, "O, yes, father, pray to God to
help us, and he will do it--God can help us!" Then falling upon his own
knees, he began, "O God bless my father and mother, my brothers and
sisters! O God help us!"
By this time the boat had passed fully half a mile from shore. Harold’s
movement forward had been made with the intention of doing something, he
knew not what, to relieve the boat from the deadly grasp of the devil
fish. He first seized his rifle, and standing upon the forward
platform, aimed it at the back of the monster, which could be distinctly
seen at two fathoms’ distance, clutching the chain which constituted
their cable. Despairing of reaching him with a ball through the
intervening water, he laid aside the rifle, and seizing William’s ax,
aimed several lusty blows at the cable chain. He struck it just on the
edge of the boat where there was the greatest prospect of breaking it;
but the chain was composed of links unusually short and strong, and the
blows of the ax served only to sink it into the soft wood of the boat.
"Robert," said he, "look for Frank’s hatchet, and come here." But
Robert, stupefied with fear, sat staring at him from beside his
prostrate sister and weeping brother, and seemed neither to understand
nor to hear.
"Robert," he repeated, "get up, and be a man. Bring Frank’s hatchet,
and help me break this chain."
Still he did not come. "It is no use, Harold," he replied. "Do you not
see that sister is dead? William is dead too! We shall all die!"
"Robert! Robert!" he reiterated, almost with a threat, "do rouse up and
be a man. Mary is not dead, she has only fainted; she will come to
directly. Come here and help me."
As he said, "She has only fainted," Robert sprang from his seat, took
off his cap, dipped it full of water, poured it on her face, rubbed her
palms and wrists to start the blood into circulation, then blew in her
face, and fanned her with his wet cap. In the course of a minute Mary
began to breathe, and then to sigh.
"Thank God!" he exclaimed, "she _has_ only fainted! she is coming to!
Frank, do you fan her now and I will help Harold."
But Harold had helped himself. Going to Frank’s parcel, he had taken
out the hatchet, and returned to the bows, where he was now adjusting
the ax, preparatory to his work. "There, Robert," on his coming up, "do
you hold the ax firmly under the chain, while I strike this link with
the hatchet."
He did so, and Harold struck a blow upon the chain, so heavy that it
rang again. Instantly they staggered, said fell backwards in the boat.
The sharp sound of the hatchet upon the links had been conveyed along
the metal to the fish, and made it dart forward with a sudden jerk.
Harold rose, and looked on a moment. "We can’t help his being
frightened, Robert. We must break the chain. Let us try again."
He struck blow after blow, though the fish seemed to be affected by each
as by an electric shock. Robert held back his arm. "Stop! stop!
Harold, we are sinking!"
It was even so. The fish, frightened by the sharp repeated sounds, had
gone down so far as to sink the bow of the boat within a few inches of
the water. But Harold was not to be stopped. With an almost frantic
laugh, he looked fiercely at the slimy monster beneath, then at his pale
companions, and raised his arm for another blow. "Robert," said he, "it
must be so. We must break the chain or die." He struck again, again,
and again, until the water began to ripple over the bow, and splash upon
his hand. He stopped, and tears came into his eyes.
"Look, Harold, at the staple," said Robert. "Let us see if that cannot
be started." They tried it, striking from side to side, but in vain.
The boat was too well made; the staple was too large, and too firmly
imbedded in the timbers to be disturbed; and, moreover, it was guarded
by an iron plate all around. Harold decided it was easier to break the
chain. "Is there not a file, nor even a chisel among the tools?" he
asked. They rummaged among the several boxes and parcels, but no tools
of the kind could be found; and then they sat down pale, panting, and
dispirited.
By this time the boat had passed out of the bay. The persons on shore,
the houses, indeed the very trees which marked the place of their abode,
had faded successively from sight. They had been running through the
water at a fearful rate, for an hour and a half, and were now in the
broad open gulf, moving as madly as before. The frightened fish,
alarmed at these repeated noises in the boat, and grasping still more
convulsively the chain which was to it an object of terror, had
outstripped its hideous companions, and after passing from the bay had
turned towards the south.
"There is Riley’s Island!" said Robert, pointing sadly to a grove of
tall palmettoes, which they were passing. "And yonder is a boat, near
shore, with a man in it. O, if Riley could see us, and come after us!
And yet what if he did! No boat can be moved by wind or paddle as we
are moving." After a few minutes he resumed: "There is one plan yet
which we have not tried; it is to saw the chain in two with pieces of
crockery. I have read of marble being cut with sand, and of diamonds
being cut with horse hair. And I think that if we work long enough we
can cut the chain in two with a broken plate. Shall we try it?"
"O, yes, try anything," Harold replied, "But," looking at the flapping
wings and horrible figure of the fish, and grinding his teeth, "if he
would come near enough to the surface, I should try a rifle ball in his
head."
They broke one of the plates, and commenced to saw. Harold worked for
half an hour, then gave it to Robert, who laboured faithfully. Had they
been able to keep the link perfectly firm, and also to work all the time
precisely on one spot, they might possibly have succeeded. But after
two hours’ hard work, the only result was that they had brightened one
of the links by rubbing off the rust and a little of the metal.
"O, this will never, never do!" exclaimed Harold. "It will take us till
midnight to saw through this chain, and then we shall be upon the broad
sea, without any hope of returning home. Robert, I am done! My hands
are blistered! My limbs are sore! I have done what I could! And now
the Lord have mercy upon us!"
Up to that moment Harold had been the life and soul of the exertions
made. His courage and energy had inspired the rest with confidence.
But now that his strong spirit gave way, and he sunk upon his seat, and
burst into tears, it seemed that all hope was gone. Robert threw down
his piece of plate, and went to seat himself by Mary, in the hinder part
of the boat. Frank had long since cried himself to sleep, and there he
lay sobbing in his slumbers, with his head in Mary’s lap. Mary was still
pale from suffering and anxiety; having recovered by means of the water
and fanning, she had summoned her fortitude and tried to comfort Frank
with the hope that Harold and Robert would succeed in breaking the
chain, and then that they would spread their beautiful sail, and return
home. When Robert took his seat, Frank awakened, and asked for water.
"Sister Mary," said he, "where is father? I thought he was here."
"No, buddy," she replied, her eyes filling to think that he had awakened
to so sad a reality, "father is at home."
"O, sister," said he, "I dreamed that father was with us, that he prayed
to God to help us, and God made the fish let go, and we all went home.
Brother Robert, have you broken that chain?"
This last appeal was too much for Robert’s fortitude, tried already by
repeated disappointments. He covered his face with his cap, and his
whole body shook with emotion.
"Brother Robert," said Mary, speaking through her own tears, "you ought
not to give up so. The fish is obliged to let go some time or other,
and then may be some ship will pass by, and take us up. Remember how
long people have floated upon broken pieces of a wreck, even without
anything to eat, while we have plenty to eat for a month. Brother
Robert and cousin Harold, do try to be comforted."
She obtained the water for Frank, and gave him something to eat.
"Brother," she added, "you and cousin Harold have worked hard, and eaten
nothing. Will you not take something? There are some nice cakes."
Both declined. "Well, here is some water. I know you must be thirsty."
Harold was so much surprised to see a girl of Mary’s age and gentle
spirit exercising more self-control than himself, that he was shamed out
of his despair. He did not then know that trait in the female
character, which fits her to comfort when the stronger spirit has been
overwhelmed. He drank a mouthful of the water. She handed it also to
Robert, but he pushed it way, saying, "No, sister, I do not want
anything now. We have done all that we could, and yet--."
"No, brother," she replied, "not at all. There is one thing more that
you have not even tried to do; and that may help us more than anything
else. It is to pray to God to help us."
"O, yes, brother," Frank added, "don’t you recollect what father read to
us out of the Bible, and talked to us about? What is it, sister?"
"When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me
up," Mary recited.
"Yes, brother," he continued, "remember that father prayed for us, when
he saw us going off. And sister and I have been praying here, while you
and cousin Harold were working yonder. Brother Robert, God _will_ take
care of us, if we pray to him."
"What Frank says is true, brother," said Mary. "He and I have been
praying most of the time that you were working. And now see the
difference! when you two have given up everything, he and I are quiet
and hoping. Brother Robert, we all ought to pray."
"I do pray--I have prayed," replied Robert.
"That may be," persisted Mary, "but what I mean is, that we all ought to
pray together."
"I cannot pray aloud," Robert answered; "I never did it. I do not know
how to do it. But we can all kneel down together, and pray silently
that God will have mercy on us. Harold, will you join us in kneeling
down?"
As they were rising for this purpose, Frank called out, "Brother, what
is that yonder? Isn’t it a boat coming to meet us?"
Their eyes turned in the direction of Frank’s finger and it was plain
that a sail had heaved into the offing far away to the south, and almost
in their course. The sun shone upon the snow-white canvas. "God be
praised!" exclaimed Robert; "that is a vessel! Who knows but we may yet
meet her, and be saved! Let us kneel down, and pray God to be merciful
to us." They did so; and when they rose from their knees the vessel was
evidently nearer.
"Let us try her with the spy glass," said Robert, and drawing it out to
its proper length, he gazed steadily at her for a minute. "That is a
schooner, or rather an hemaphrodite brig. I can see her sails and
masts. She is rigged like a revenue cutter, and seems also to have the
rake of one. She is coming this way, and if she is a cutter, she is
almost certainly bound for Tampa, and can take us home again."
How rapidly characters appear to shift with shifting circumstances!
Mary and Frank, who but a minute before were the only ones calm and
disposed to speak in tones of energy and hope, now began to weep and
lose all self-control; while Robert and Harold, shaking off their
despondency, sprang to their feet, and with bright eyes and ready limbs,
prepared once more for effort. Harold seized the glass, and looked long
and steadily. "She is coming to us, or we are going to her very fast,"
said he. "Perhaps both; and now what shall we do?"
"Rig up a signal, and load the guns," replied Robert. "Let us attract
their attention as soon as possible. Quick, sister, get me a sheet!"
In the course of fifteen minutes they had the sheet rigged and floating;
and by the time the guns were loaded, they could clearly discern not
only the hull, but the port holes of the vessel, and her long raking
masts. There was no further doubt that she was a revenue cutter bound
for the bay. Still it became every moment more certain that without
some change in the course of one or the other, they must pass at a
considerable distance. Now what should they do? The sky, which had
been gradually clouding over since they saw the vessel, began to be
rapidly and heavily overcast as they approached. Fearful that rain
might fall, and utterly obscure their signal before it was seen, the
boys resolved to fire their guns, ere there was any reasonable hope that
they could be heard. At the first discharge the fish, which had
probably been frightened in the morning by the cannon at the fort,
jerked so terribly as almost to unseat them. At the discharge of the
remaining guns it seemed less and less alarmed, until finally it ceased
darting altogether; its strength was failing. Soon afterwards they saw
the smoke of two cannon from the vessel, and then a flag run up the
mast. "They see us! They see us!" cried Robert and Mary.
"But can they help us?" asked Harold. "Here we are running between them
and shore, faster than any vessel can sail except in a storm, and there
is scarcely wind enough to fill their sails, and what there is is
against their coming to our aid. Robert, we must break that chain, or
yet all is lost."
There was apparently some bustle on board the cutter. Many persons could
be distinguished by the glass looking at them and at the clouds. They
were preparing to lower a boat, yet with manifest hesitation. This was
immediately explained by the singular appearance of the cloud between
the boat and the vessel. It had become exceedingly dark and angry. A
portion in the middle assumed the shape of a trumpet, and descended with
the sharp point toward the water; while a broad column ascended from the
sea to meet it; and then sea and sky roared and tossed in terrible
unison.
"It is a water-spout!" said Robert, "if it strikes the vessel she is
gone. Look there, Harold, look!"
The cutter began to give sensible evidence of the whirling eddy. Her
sails flapped and her masts reeled. Soon they heard boom! boom! the roar
of two more cannon. They were for the purpose of breaking the
threatening column. They saw the descending pillar gradually ascend,
and spread itself into a dark mass of cloud, which poured out such a
shower of rain as entirely to hide the vessel from sight. Afterwards
they heard another cannon. "That is for us," Robert said; "let us
answer it as well as we can."
They fired gun after gun, and heard cannon after cannon in reply, but
each fainter than before. Their last hope of being saved by the vessel
was gone. She was far away, and hidden by the rain which enveloped her.
There had been no rain upon themselves, but it was very dark overhead,
and threatened both rain and wind. They were far enough from home--how
far they could not conceive, and far too from the barely visible shore,
upon the broad wild sea. The boys were relapsing rapidly into that
moody despair which is so natural after strong yet fruitless exertion,
when a sharp flash of lightning struck in the water about one hundred
yards before them. So near was it, and so severe, that they were almost
blinded by the blaze, and stunned by the report. Their boat instantly
relaxed its speed, and was soon motionless upon the water. The boys
rushed to the bow. Their cable hung perpendicularly down, and the fish
was nowhere to be seen. It had darted back from the lightning flash,
and the cable had slipped quietly from its grasp.
"Thank God we are loose!" burst triumphantly from Robert. Harold looked
on with strong emotion. Once more tears gathered in his eyes.
"Robert," said he, "I never did make pretension to being a Christian, or
a praying person, but if we do not thank God all of us for this when we
get ashore, we do not deserve to live."
"Amen!" said Robert; and Mary and Frank responded, "Amen!"
The shore was full seven miles away. It was probably wild and barren.
It might be difficult of approach, and inhospitable after they should
land. But gladly did they draw aboard their anchor, raise their sail,
and make toward it. The sea was smooth, but there was wind enough to
fill their sails, and give promise of their reaching the shore ere
night. Robert took the helm, and Harold managed the sails. Mary once
more brought out her cakes and other eatables. Frank laughed from very
pleasure; and seldom, if ever, was a happier looking company to be seen,
going to a strange and perhaps a hostile coast.
Far as the eye could reach, to the north and south, there was a bluff of
white sand, varied here and there by a hillock, higher than the rest,
which the winds had blown up from the beach. Before them was an inlet
of some sort--whether a small bay, the mouth of a river, or an arm of
the sea, they could not determine; it was fringed on the south with a
richly coloured forest, and on the north by a growth of rank and
nauseous mangroves. Into this inlet they steered, anxious only for a
safe anchorage during the night. A little before sunset they reached a
pleasant landing-place, on the southern shore, near the forest; and
having been confined all day to the boat, they were glad enough to
relieve themselves from their wearisome inaction, by a few minutes’
exercise on land. Harold first ascended the bluff, and looked in every
direction to see if there was any sign of inhabitants. No house or
smoke was visible; nothing but an apparently untouched forest to the
left, and a sandy, sterile country to the right.
"Cousins," said he, "I think we may with safety sleep on the beach
tonight. With our dogs to guard, nothing can approach without our
knowledge. I am almost afraid to anchor in the stream, lest we should
be carried off by another devil-fish."
To this proposal they agreed. The tent was handily contrived, requiring
only a few minutes for its erection; and while Mary and Frank drove down
the tent-pins, Harold and Robert brought into it the cloaks and blankets
for sleeping, together with their guns, and other necessaries for
comfort and safety.
As the darkness closed around them, its gloom was relieved by the ruddy
blaze of a fire, which Robert and Harold had made with dried branches
from a fallen oak, and kindled by Frank’s matches Mary soon had some tea
prepared, which they found delightfully refreshing. Immediately after
it, Harold, whose countenance ever since their escape from the fish had
assumed a peculiarly thoughtful expression, remarked:
"I have no doubt we all remember what we said in the boat about being
thankful; and I have no doubt that from the bottom of our hearts we do
thank God for our deliverance; but I think we ought to say so aloud
together, and in our prayers, before we go to sleep this night."
No one answered, and he proceeded: "Robert, if you can speak for us,
please say in our name what you know we ought to say."
There being still no reply, except a shake of Robert’s head, Harold
continued:
"Then we can at least kneel down together, and I will say, ’Thanks to
the Lord for his mercies, and may we never forget them;’ after which we
can unite in the Lord’s Prayer."
They knelt down. Harold did not confine himself to the words just
recorded; he was much more full, and became more at ease with every word
he uttered; and when the others united with him in repeating aloud the
Lord’s Prayer, as they had been accustomed to unite with their father in
family worship, it was with an earnestness that they never felt before,
and that was perceptible in every word and tone. That wild coast was
probably for the first time hallowed with the voice of Christian prayer.
They made the boat secure by drawing the anchor well upon the beach.
They spread their cloaks and blankets upon the dry sand, and lay down to
rest. Their dogs kept watch at the door of their tent; and they slept
soundly, and without the least disturbance, during the whole of this
their first night of exile.