The seventeenth of May, the day of sailing, came, and the _Elizabeth_
lay waiting for her company. Yet, even then, dark presentiments
so overshadowed Margaret, that she passed one anxious hour more in
hesitation, before she could resolve to go on board. But Captain Hasty
was so fine a model of the New England seaman, strong-minded, prompt,
calm, decided, courteous; Mrs. Hasty was so refined, gentle, and
hospitable; both had already formed so warm an attachment for the
little family, in their few interviews at Florence and Leghorn;
Celeste Paolini, a young Italian girl, who had engaged to render
kindly services to Angelino, was so lady-like and pleasing; their only
other fellow-passenger, Mr. Horace Sumner, of Boston, was so obliging
and agreeable a friend; and the good ship herself looked so trim,
substantial, and cheery, that it seemed weak and wrong to turn back.
They embarked; and, for the first few days, all went prosperously,
till fear was forgotten. Soft breezes sweep them tranquilly over the
smooth bosom of the Mediterranean; Angelino sits among his heaps of
toys, or listens to the seraphine, or leans his head with fondling
hands upon the white goat, who is now to be his foster-parent, or in
the captain's arms moves to and fro, gazing curiously at spars and
rigging, or watches with delight the swelling canvass; while, under
the constant stars, above the unresting sea, Margaret and Ossoli
pace the deck of their small ocean-home, and think of storms left
behind,--perhaps of coming tempests.
But now Captain Hasty fell ill with fever, could hardly drag himself
from his state-room to give necessary orders, and lay upon the bed or
sofa, in fast-increased distress, though glad to bid Nino good-day, to
kiss his cheek, and pat his hand. Still, the strong man grew weaker,
till he could no longer draw from beneath the pillow his daily friend,
the Bible, though his mind was yet clear to follow his wife's voice,
as she read aloud the morning and evening chapter. But alas for the
brave, stout seaman! alas for the young wife, on almost her first
voyage! alas for crew! alas for company! alas for the friends of
Margaret! The fever proved to be confluent small-pox, in the most
malignant form. The good commander had received his release from
earthly duty. The _Elizabeth_ must lose her guardian. With calm
con-[Transcriber's note: A word appears to be missing here.]
authorities refused permission for any one to land, and directed that
the burial should be made at sea. As the news spread through the port,
the ships dropped their flags half-mast, and at sunset, towed by the
boat of a neighboring frigate, the crew of the _Elizabeth_ bore the
body of their late chief, wrapped in the flag of his nation, to its
rest in deep water. Golden twilight flooded the western sky, and
shadows of high-piled clouds lay purple on the broad Atlantic. In that
calm, summer sunset funeral, what eye foresaw the morning of horror,
of which it was the sad forerunner?
At Gibraltar, they were detained a week by adverse winds, but, on the
9th of June, set sail again. The second day after, Angelino sickened
with the dreadful malady, and soon became so ill, that his life was
despaired of. His eyes were closed, his head and face swollen out of
shape, his body covered with eruption. Though inexperienced in the
disease, the parents wisely treated their boy with cooling drinks, and
wet applications to the skin; under their incessant care, the fever
abated, and, to their unspeakable joy, he rapidly recovered. Sobered
and saddened, they could again hope, and enjoy the beauty of the calm
sky and sea. Once more Nino laughs, as he splashes in his morning
bath, and playfully prolongs the meal, which the careful father has
prepared with his own hand, or, if he has been angered, rests his head
upon his mother's breast, while his palm is pressed against her cheek,
as, bending down, she sings to him; once more, he sits among his toys,
or fondles and plays with the white-haired goat, or walks up and down
in the arms of the steward, who has a boy of just his age, at home,
now waiting to embrace him; or among the sailors, with whom he is a
universal favorite, prattles in baby dialect as he tries to imitate
their cry, to work the pumps, and pull the ropes. Ossoli and Sumner,
meanwhile, exchange alternate lessons in Italian and English. And
Margaret, among her papers, gives the last touches to her book on
Italy, or with words of hope and love comforts like a mother the
heart-broken widow. Slowly, yet peacefully, pass the long summer days,
the mellow moonlit nights; slowly, and with even flight, the good
Elizabeth, under gentle airs from the tropics, bears them safely
onward. Four thousand miles of ocean lie behind; they are nearly home.