Day after day Paul Trefusis lay on his sick-bed. A doctor was sent for,
but his report was unfavourable. Nelly asked him, with trembling lips,
whether he thought her father would ever get well.
"You must not depend too much on that, my little maiden," he answered;
"but I hope your brother, who seems an industrious lad, and that
wonderful old woman, your grandmother, will help you to keep the pot
boiling in the house, and I dare say you will find friends who will
assist you when you require it. Good-bye; I'll come and see your father
again soon; but all I can do is to relieve his pain."
Dame Lanreath and Michael did, indeed, do their best to keep the pot
boiling: early and late Michael was at work, either digging in the
garden, fishing in the harbour, or, when the weather would allow him,
going with the boat outside. Young as he was, he was well able, under
ordinary circumstances, to manage her by himself, though, of course,
single-handed, he could not use the nets.
Though he toiled very hard, he could, however, obtain but a scanty
supply of fish. When he obtained more than were required for home
consumption, the dame would set off to dispose of them; but she had no
longer the companionship of Nelly, who remained to watch over her poor
father.
When Paul had strength sufficient to speak, which he had not always, he
would give his daughter good advice, and warn her of the dangers to
which she would be exposed in the world.
"Nelly," he said, "do not trust a person with a soft-speaking tongue,
merely because he is soft-speaking; or one with good looks, merely
because he has good looks. Learn his character first--how he spends his
time, how he speaks about other people, and, more than all, how he
speaks about God. Do not trust him because he says pleasant things to
you. There is Eban Cowan, for instance, a good-looking lad, with
pleasant manners; but he comes of a bad stock, and is not brought up to
fear God. It is wrong to speak ill of one's neighbours, so I have not
talked of what I know about his father and his father's companions; but,
Nelly dear, I tell you not to trust him or them till you have good cause
to do so."
Nelly, like a wise girl, never forgot what her father said to her.
After this Paul grew worse. Often, for days together, he was racked
with pain, and could scarcely utter a word. Nelly tended him with the
most loving care. It grieved her tender heart to see him suffer; but
she tried to conceal her sorrow, and he never uttered a word of
complaint.
Michael had now become the main support of the family; for though Paul
had managed to keep out of debt and have a small supply of money in
hand, yet that was gradually diminishing.
"Never fear, Nelly," said Michael, when she told him one day how little
they had left; "we must hope for a good pilchard-fishing, and we can
manage to rub on till then. The nets are in good order, and I can get
the help I spoke of; so that I can take father's place, and we shall
have his share in the company's fishing."
Michael alluded to a custom which prevails among the fishermen on that
coast. A certain number, who possess boats and nets, form a company,
and fish together when the pilchards visit their coast, dividing
afterwards the amount they receive for the fish caught.
"It is a long time to wait till then," observed Nelly.
"But on most days I can catch lobsters and crabs, and every time I have
been out lately the fish come to my lines more readily than they used to
do," answered Michael. "Do not be cast down, Nelly dear, we have a
Friend in heaven, as father says, Who will take care of us; let us trust
Him."
Time passed on. Paul Trefusis, instead of getting better, became worse
and worse. His once strong, stout frame was now reduced to a mere
skeleton. Still Nelly and Michael buoyed themselves up with the hope
that he would recover. Dame Lanreath knew too well that his days on
earth were drawing to an end.
Michael had become the mainstay of the family. Whenever a boat could
get outside, the "Wild Duck" was sure to be seen making her way towards
the best fishing-ground.
Paul, before he started each day, inquired which way the wind was, and
what sea there was on, and advised him where to go. "Michael," said
Paul, as the boy came one morning to wish him good-bye, "fare thee well,
lad; don't forget the advice I have given thee, and look after little
Nelly and her grandmother, and may God bless and prosper thee;" and
taking Michael's hand, Paul pressed it gently. He had no strength for a
firm grasp now.
Michael was struck by his manner. Had it not been necessary to catch
some fish he would not have left the cottage.
Putting the boat's sail and other gear on board, he pulled down the
harbour. He had to pull some little way out to sea. The wind was
setting on shore. He did not mind that, for he should sail back the
faster. The weather did not look as promising as he could have wished:
dark clouds were gathering to the north-west and passing rapidly over
the sky. As he knew, should the wind stand, he could easily regain the
harbour, he went rather more to the southward than he otherwise would
have done, to a good spot, where he had often had a successful fishing.
He had brought his dinner with him, as he intended to fish all day. His
lines were scarcely overboard before he got a bite, and he was soon
catching fish as fast as he could haul his lines on board. This put him
in good spirits.
"Granny will have her creel full to sell to-morrow," he thought. "Maybe
I shall get back in time for her to set off to-day."
So eagerly occupied was he that he did not observe the change of the
weather. The wind had veered round more to the northward. It was every
instant blowing stronger and stronger, although, from its coming off the
land, there was not much sea on.
At last he had caught a good supply of fish. By waiting he might have
obtained many more, but he should then be too late for that day's
market. Lifting his anchor, therefore, he got out his oars and began to
pull homewards. The wind was very strong, and he soon found that, with
all his efforts, he could make no headway. The tide, too, had turned,
and was against him, sweeping round in a strong current to the
southward. In vain he pulled. Though putting all the strength he
possessed to his oars, still, as he looked at the shore, he was rather
losing than gaining ground. He knew that the attempt to reach the
harbour under sail would be hopeless; he should be sure to lose every
tack he made. Already half a gale of wind was blowing, and the boat,
with the little ballast there was in her, would scarcely look up even to
the closest reefed canvas.
Again he dropped his anchor, intending to wait the turn of the tide,
sorely regretting that he could not take the fish home in time for
granny to sell on that day.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dame Lanreath and Nelly had been anxiously expecting Michael's return,
and the dame had got ready to set off as soon as he appeared with the
fish they hoped he would catch. Still he did not come.
Paul had more than once inquired for him. He told Nelly to go out and
see how the wind was, and whether there was much sea on.
Nelly made her way under the cliffs to the nearest point whence she
could obtain a view of the mouth of the harbour and the sea beyond. She
looked out eagerly for Michael's boat, hoping to discover her making her
way towards the shore; but Nelly looked in vain. Already there was a
good deal of sea on, and the wind, which had been blowing strong from
the north-west, while she was standing there veered a point or two more
to the northward.
"Where could Michael have gone?" She looked and looked till her eyes
ached, still she could not bring herself to go back without being able
to make some report about him. At last she determined to call at the
cottage of Reuben Lanaherne, a friend of her father's, though a somewhat
older man.
"What is it brings you here, my pretty maiden?" said Uncle Reuben, who,
for a wonder, was at home, as Nelly, after gently knocking, lifted the
latch and entered a room with sanded floor and blue painted ceiling.
"O Uncle Lanaherne," she said, "can you tell me where you think Michael
has gone? he ought to have been back long ago."
"He would have been wiser not to have gone out at all with the weather
threatening as it has been; but he is a handy lad in a boat, Nelly, and
he will find his way in as well as any one, so don't you be unhappy
about him," was the answer.
Still Reuben looked a little anxious, and putting on his hat, buttoning
up his coat, and taking his glass under his arm, he accompanied Nelly to
the point. He took a steady survey round.
"Michael's boat is nowhere near under sail," he observed. "There seems
to me a boat, however, away to the southward, but, with the wind and
tide as at present, she cannot be coming here. I wish I could make out
more to cheer you, Nelly. You must tell your father that; and he knows
if we can lend Michael a hand we will. How is he to-day?"
"He is very bad, Uncle Lanaherne," said Nelly, with a sigh; "I fear
sometimes that he will never go fishing again."
"I am afraid not, Nelly," observed the rough fisherman, putting his hand
on her head; "but you know you and your brother will always find a
friend in Reuben Lanaherne. An honest man's children will never want,
and if there ever was an honest man, your poor father is one. I will
keep a look-out for Michael, but do not be cast down, Nelly; we shall
see him before long."
The fisherman spoke in a cheery tone, but still he could not help
feeling more anxiety than he expressed for Michael.
Every moment the wind was increasing, and the heavy seas which came
rolling in showed that a gale had been blowing for some time outside.
Nelly hastened back to tell her father what Uncle Lanaherne had said.
When she got to his bedside she found that a great change had taken
place during her absence. Her father turned his dim eye towards her as
she entered, but had scarcely strength to speak, or beckon her with his
hands. She bent over him.
"Nelly dear, where is Michael?" he asked, "I want to bless him, he must
come quickly, for I have not long to stay."
"He has not come on shore yet, father, but Uncle Lanaherne is looking
out for him," said Nelly.
"I wanted to see him again," whispered Paul. "It will be too late if he
does not come now; so tell him, Nelly, that I do bless him, and I bless
you, Nelly, bless you, bless you;" and his voice became fainter.
Nelly, seeing a change come over her father's features, cried out for
her granny. Dame Lanreath hastened into the room. The old woman saw at
a glance what had happened. Paul Trefusis was dead.
Closing his eyes, she took her grandchild by the hand, and led her out
of the room.
Some time passed, however, before Nelly could realise what had happened.
"Your father has gone, Nelly, but he has gone to heaven, and is happier
far than he ever was or ever could be down on earth even in the best of
times. Bad times may be coming, and God in His love and mercy took him
that he might escape them."
"But, then, why didn't God take us?" asked Nelly, looking up. "I would
have liked to die with him. Bad times will be as hard for us to bear as
for him."
"God always does what is best, and He has a reason for keeping us on
earth," answered the dame. "He has kept me well-nigh fourscore years,
and given me health and strength, and good courage to bear whatever I
have had to bear, and He will give you strength, Nelly, according to
your need."
"Ah, I was wicked to say what I did," answered Nelly; "but I am sad
about father and you and myself, and very sad, too, about Michael. He
will grieve so when he comes home and finds father gone, if he comes at
all. And, O granny, I begin to fear that he won't come home! what has
happened to him I cannot tell; and if you had seen the heavy sea there
was rolling outside you would fear the worst."
"Still, Nelly, we must trust in God; if He has taken Michael, He has
done it for the best, not the worst, Nelly," answered Dame Lanreath.
"But when I say this, Nelly, I don't want to stop your tears, they are
given in mercy to relieve your grief; but pray to God, Nelly, to help
us; He will do so--only trust Him."