SAVED.
Here she found the captain, sailors, and passengers—those of them who
were unharmed—hovering around the life-boats, eager to spring into them
the moment they were lowered, and gathered, from what she could hear in
the confusion, that the boiler had burst, and the accident had caused
such serious damage to the vessel that she was fast sinking.
As she went nearer the captain she saw Mr. Rosevelt. He looked gloomy
and anxious, and very pale, while he was eagerly scanning the faces of
the people about him, and holding a life-preserver in his hands. His
face lighted as he turned and saw her, and he heaved a long breath of
relief.
“I was looking for you,” he said, in a hoarse voice, while he
immediately proceeded to fasten the preserver about her person.
He then drew her arm within his, led her to the side of the vessel, and
stood quietly waiting until the boats were lowered and the captain
should bid them enter.
“Have you anything valuable that you wish to save—_if we_ _are saved_?”
he asked, seeming suddenly to remember that she might have something.
“Yes, I have a few important papers and my mother’s jewels. I went down
to get them after the explosion. How did it happen?” she asked.
“No one knows. It was one of those accidents which cannot be accounted
for. The whole fore part of the ship is nearly blown to pieces,” he
returned, gloomily.
Star shuddered, and then turned to watch the men let down the boats.
There were only three of them, the others having been destroyed or blown
overboard. These were quickly filled by the frantic passengers and
emigrants, who scrambled into them in spite of the orders of the captain
to await his commands.
They took everything into their own hands, and as soon as the seats were
taken, began to push off, regardless of the appealing cries of those
remaining on board, the anger of the captain, and the threats of the
sailors.
Mr. Rosevelt and Star were among those left, and the old man pleaded for
a place for the young girl, calling them inhuman brutes to seek their
own safety and leave a delicate girl to perish.
“The boats will hold no more!” the frantic creatures cried. “Every one
must look out for himself in such a time as this.”
“Wretches! have you no feeling? Are there no fathers and mothers among
you? Will you see this child go down before your very eyes? You _must_
take her!” he cried, wildly, authoritatively.
A feeling of shame seemed to come over them; there followed a moment of
consultation, a counting of those in the different boats, then a
reluctant consent was gained to take her into one of them.
“Be quick!” they cried, as a rush of flame in the center of the steamer
warned them that a new and terrible danger threatened; and Mr. Rosevelt
led her toward the rope ladder swinging from the vessel’s side.
Star was very pale, but her great blue eyes had a strange, determined
gleam in them.
“Are you afraid to go down the ladder?” Mr. Rosevelt asked, as he paused
before it.
“Not if _you_ will go _first_ and hold it for me,” she answered.
“But I cannot; they will not take us both,” he said.
She drew back from the edge of the vessel, and looking up into that aged
face, said, tremulously:
“Sir, you have dear friends who are waiting for you, and who would mourn
your death. I have no one who loves me; I was going among strangers, and
I should not be missed. You go; I am not afraid to die.”
He looked at her in mingled awe and admiration, while those brave words,
“I am not afraid to die,” smote him keenly.
“Child,” he said, huskily, “it must not be. You are young and beautiful;
there is a long life of happiness, I trust, before you. _My_ days are
nearly spent, and I could not accept such a sacrifice. Come, they are
clamoring impatiently at the delay. Give me one kiss, such as you would
give to your own father were he living, and then I will help you down;
or, if you are afraid, the sailors shall tie a rope about you and let
you down.”
He bent his head, his face filled with a yearning tenderness, to hers.
“The captain and the sailors—must they remain and perish, too?” she
asked, breathlessly, while she shuddered as a hot wave of smoke came
pouring over them.
“Yes; there is room for no one but you. Come; they will not wait longer.
One kiss, little Star, and—God bless you!”
She looked up at him in surprise; he was asking God to bless her, when
only last night he had sneered at her trust in Him. But she kissed him,
for his lips were almost touching hers as he spoke. Then she leaned over
the vessel’s side, and said, in loud, clear tones:
“I shall not go with you; there are enough in the boat already.”
She turned her back resolutely upon what seemed her only hope of safety,
and, clinging to Mr. Rosevelt, she said:
“I will not leave you, the only one who has spoken kindly to me during
all the voyage. They did not want me, for my extra weight would lessen
their chances, and I will _try_ to be brave when—when the end comes.”
She was ghastly even to her lips, but there was a clear and steady light
in her eye.
Mr. Rosevelt was horror-struck at what she had done.
“Heavens, child! you shall not do this rash thing! Hold, there!” he
yelled to those in the boat; “she _will_ go!” and he lifted her in his
arms and bore her to the spot she had just left, while the captain
roared to the men below to wait.
But even as they were speaking the vessel gave a tremendous lurch and
settled far down into the water. Smoke and flame were vomited up from
below, and, horror of horrors! the boat into which they had just been
urging—almost forcing Star—was swamped in the commotion of waters caused
by that lurch, and its luckless freight were at the mercy of the hungry
waves.
It was a fearful moment.
Cries and shrieks for help came up from the cruel depths, and white,
upturned faces looked piteously toward the sinking hulk, as if imploring
even the brief respite from a horrible death which it could afford.
Boxes, spars, and anything that was at hand, were cast over to them, and
several succeeded in reaching and clinging to them, while others went
down to their watery grave before the eyes of that watching, agonized
group on the burning vessel, who almost forgot their own impending fate
in the sufferings of their comrades. Suddenly a shout rent the air.
The captain hastened forward to see what it meant, and saw one of the
sailors in the water on the other side of the vessel struggling with a
boat.
The noble man had espied it at some distance from the ship, and knew
that it was one which had been blown overboard. It might be injured so
that it would not be safe, but it appeared to ride the waters all right,
and he resolved to swim to it and thus save if possible the captain and
crew.
He had nearly reached the steamer’s side with his trophy, when the other
sailors discovered him and sent that triumphant shout.
“Throw a rope!” shouted the captain, new hope springing in his heart.
It was thrown with a will; the man caught it, and suspending his own
labors, he and the boat were drawn safely to the ship’s side.
Nimbly then the faithful crew sprang to obey their commander’s orders. A
liberal supply of provision and water was put into the boat, with plenty
of rugs and what clothing was at hand; the required number of oars were
brought, and in a few minutes all that remained alive on that ill-fated
ship were safely seated within it.
Then they set to work to save those who were still struggling in the
water. Ten were all that they could rescue, the rest went down; and now
began the battle for life.
They pulled rapidly away from the sinking steamer, lest they should
share the fate of those who had just been swamped, and the wisdom of
this was manifest in lest than half an hour, for, with another mighty
lurch and plunge, which sent forth volumes of smoke and flame, the noble
craft went down and the dark waters swept over it, obliterating it
forever from the view of man; while the captain, with a groan of pain,
covered his eyes and wept.
It was as if he had looked his last upon the face of some dear friend.
The day waned quickly; night shut down upon them cold and cheerless,
hiding from their sight the other boats, and bringing with it such a
sense of loneliness and misery as not one in that frail craft ever
experienced before.
Star, the only woman in that boat, clung to Mr. Rosevelt as if upon him
depended all her hope, and all that long night through he held in his
one small, fair hand, while he pillowed her bright head upon his knees,
and kept her covered with blankets and rugs.
Twice or thrice she awoke and started up, saying:
“I weary you, sir; let me sit by myself.”
But he only drew her more closely to him, as he said, tenderly:
“No, no, little one; it does me good to have you near me. Lie still and
get all the sleep you can, for we do not know what the morrow may bring
to us.”
When the morrow did come it dawned grandly beautiful. The sun came up
from the east like a chariot of fire, turning the sea into waves of
gold, and bringing cheer and courage once more to the hearts of the
lonely little band who were struggling for life on the mighty deep.
Nothing could be seen of the other boats, although they had been eagerly
looking for them ever since the break of day; but they had no reason to
think they were not as safe as themselves, and were therefore not unduly
anxious.
Star awoke much refreshed by her long sleep, and, as her lovely eyes
took in all the beauty of the morning, a feeling of thankfulness for it
and their safety thrilled her heart, and almost unconsciously she began
chanting a hymn of praise.
As she sang the first line, which was exactly like the beginning of the
Lord’s Prayer—“Our Father who art in heaven”—every oar was suspended;
the captain reverently removed his cap, an act which was imitated by the
crew, and all listened with respectful mien as the sweet voice rose upon
the still morning air, thanking God for His care through the dangers of
the night, and invoking His protection during the day.
“Thank you, Miss Gladstone,” the captain said, as her last tone died
away; “it is well for us to begin the day thus. You have a fine voice,”
he added; “will you sing something else and then we’ll pull westward
with a will for awhile?”
Star thought for a moment; then, with a delicate flush rising in her
cheek, an almost holy light glowing in her eyes, and a thrill in her
tones which touched every heart, she sang:
“In the harbor safe at home
Zion’s stately ship shall come,
And her crew shall proudly tell
Dangers she has braved so well;
Never more to tempt the wave,
Never more the storm to brave,
Safe from rock and breaker’s crest,
Anchored in eternal rest.
“Courage, then, ye faithful few!
Weary, weather-beaten crew.
Let no hardship be compared
With th’ exceeding great reward;
Soon life’s tempest will be o’er—
Lo! we near the promised shore,
And o’er troubled waves afar
Gleameth Bethlehem’s welcome star.”
There were tears in the eyes of those rough, stern-visaged men when the
song was ended, and more than one weather-bronzed hand was lifted to
dash them aside. There was not a sailor there who would not have fought
dearly for the life of this sweet-voiced girl, who had thus touched a
chord in their hearts which had not vibrated before for many a year.
A little while after the boatswain called aloud:
“A sail! a sail!”
All eyes were instantly turned in the direction toward which he pointed,
and low on the horizon, very far away, there gleamed a white sail.
The captain brought his glass to bear upon it, and reported a schooner.
A signal of distress was hoisted immediately, and changing their course,
they pulled vigorously for the vessel.
But in less than half an hour it had disappeared entirely, and, with
disappointed faces, they again turned their course westward.
The demands of nature now began to assert themselves, and the captain
served out a generous breakfast, treating all alike.
Mr. Rosevelt regarded him anxiously as he did this.
“How long will your stores hold out?” he asked, as the men began to eat
hungrily.
“Two or three days,” he returned; “but we are so nearly in the line of
the steamers that we shall surely fall in with one before our provisions
are gone.”
The old man sighed, and bent a wistful look upon the young girl sitting
beside him.
Star had noted his anxious tone as he questioned the captain; she had
also seen the look he cast upon her.
“He fears that we shall be tossed about on the ocean until we starve,”
she thought, a horrible chill creeping over her; and she quietly slipped
all the bread that had been given her into her pocket, and only ate the
more perishable food and delicacies which the captain had laid in her
lap.
That afternoon Mr. Rosevelt had a violent attack of vertigo, lying
insensible for several hours; and now it was Star’s turn to pillow _his_
head upon _her_ lap and minister to his comfort.
She bathed his face and head almost constantly, and with her shawl
shielded him from the sun, which during the day was very powerful, while
from time to time she fed him with bits of biscuit moistened with port
wine from a bottle which the captain had given her for him, striving in
every way to keep up his strength.
He appeared to revive toward evening, and said he was better; but Star
saw that he was very weak, and that it was only by great effort that he
kept up at all.
Another night passed, another day came, and still there was no sail to
gladden their strained and aching eyes.
The third day the captain said, with a stern brow and pale, compressed
lips:
“Our provisions are nearly gone—they will last only one more day;” and
he shortened every man’s ration, giving Star alone a generous portion.
She cast a pitying glance at the brave men toiling so uncomplainingly at
their oars, and her heart sank as she thought what might be their fate.
Patiently she munched a single biscuit, while she slipped all the rest
out of sight, hoarding it to fight the grim, gaunt monster which she
feared was fast overtaking them.
Mr. Rosevelt had not been so well the day before; he was even worse this
morning, and she was very anxious about him, for he would eat nothing,
waving all food away with an expression of disgust, and only sipping a
little wine occasionally, while he had become so weak that he could not
sit up at all.
“He won’t live two days longer,” she heard one sailor whisper to
another, when, a little later, he had another attack which utterly
prostrated him. “He is failing rapidly, and eats nothing to keep up his
strength.”
“He _shall_ live!” Star said to herself, with an impulse born of
despair; for he seemed her chief dependence, and she had grown to regard
him with very tender feelings.
All night she watched over him, every half hour moistening his lips with
wine, and forcing bits of biscuit soaked in it between them.
Every time she heard him swallow, her heart leaped for joy, for it told
her there was hope even yet.
She had several squares of sea-bread in her pocket, for she had saved
something from every meal, and she was determined, as long as her own
strength held out, that she would faithfully minister to him.
Sometimes she was very faint herself from want of food, but she would
take a little water in her mouth and swallow it gradually, and thus find
a relief for a time.
The fifth day there was no food to give out—and, oh, the hollow eyes,
the blanched cheeks and despairing hearts of that ill-fated party!
Mr. Rosevelt was conscious, to Star’s great joy, but too weak to move
hand or foot.
The sixth day the courage and strength of the crew began to fail
visibly, and two of the passengers fainted from hunger and weakness.
Star felt wretchedly guilty, with food in her pocket and those hungry
eyes looking so piteously into hers; but she knew there was not enough
for a crumb apiece, while the life of her friend depended upon it.
Mr. Rosevelt relapsed into partial unconsciousness quite early in the
morning, and she was as pale and wan as a spirit, but the look of
determination never left her face. She worked over the sick man
constantly, forcing food into his mouth as often as she dared, while all
the day long not a morsel passed her own white lips.
Just at sunset a little white cloud was visible on the eastern horizon,
then it became a line of smoke; a few minutes later sails were
distinguishable, and soon the broadside of a steamer became distinct. A
shout went up from the throats of the faithful crew, and with renewed
courage and strength they bent every nerve to their oars.
It soon became evident that their signal of distress had been seen, for
the steamer changed her course and came proudly plowing the waters
toward the suffering band, and an hour later those starving, almost
helpless ones were tenderly taken from their peril and every want kindly
ministered to.
“What is it—where am I?” Mr. Rosevelt asked, aroused by the sound of
strange voices, a vigorous rubbing, and an extra quantity of wine.
“A steamer homeward bound, and _we are saved_!” Star whispered in his
ear, then bowed her white face upon her hands and wept for joy.
She would not leave him until the ship’s surgeon told her that he would
pull through all right with proper care, and commanded that she go below
and receive the attention she herself needed.
She staggered to her feet, a great burden rolling from her heart; but
her waning strength deserted her entirely, and she fell fainting into
the arms of a young, manly looking fellow, who was standing with pitying
face just beside her.
He carried her below and gave her into the care of a stewardess, and
thought, as he did so, that he had never in his life looked upon a face
so pure and delicately lovely.
The captain and crew of the ill-fated steamer, with the other passengers
who had been saved, were shown every kindness and attention which their
critical condition demanded, and so ended that season of horror, and
they were borne swiftly and safely toward America’s hospitable shore.