The mate of the ship, who heard her stir, came to offer her some
refreshment; and she, who formerly received every offer of kindness or
civility with pleasure, now shrunk away disgusted: peevishly she desired
him not to disturb her; but the words were hardly articulated when her
heart smote her, she called him back, and requested something to drink.
After drinking it, fatigued by her mental exertions, she fell into a
death-like slumber, which lasted some hours; but did not refresh her, on
the contrary, she awoke languid and stupid.
The wind still continued contrary; a week, a dismal week, had she
struggled with her sorrows; and the struggle brought on a slow fever,
which sometimes gave her false spirits.
The winds then became very tempestuous, the Great Deep was troubled, and
all the passengers appalled. Mary then left her bed, and went on deck,
to survey the contending elements: the scene accorded with the present
state of her soul; she thought in a few hours I may go home; the
prisoner may be released. The vessel rose on a wave and descended into a
yawning gulph--Not slower did her mounting soul return to earth,
for--Ah! her treasure and her heart was there. The squalls rattled
amongst the sails, which were quickly taken down; the wind would then
die away, and the wild undirected waves rushed on every side with a
tremendous roar. In a little vessel in the midst of such a storm she
was not dismayed; she felt herself independent.
Just then one of the crew perceived a signal of distress; by the help of
a glass he could plainly discover a small vessel dismasted, drifted
about, for the rudder had been broken by the violence of the storm.
Mary's thoughts were now all engrossed by the crew on the brink of
destruction. They bore down to the wreck; they reached it, and hailed
the trembling wretches; at the sound of the friendly greeting, loud
cries of tumultuous joy were mixed with the roaring of the waves, and
with ecstatic transport they leaped on the shattered deck, launched
their boat in a moment, and committed themselves to the mercy of the
sea. Stowed between two casks, and leaning on a sail, she watched the
boat, and when a wave intercepted it from her view--she ceased to
breathe, or rather held her breath until it rose again.
At last the boat arrived safe along-side the ship, and Mary caught the
poor trembling wretches as they stumbled into it, and joined them in
thanking that gracious Being, who though He had not thought fit to still
the raging of the sea, had afforded them unexpected succour.
Amongst the wretched crew was one poor woman, who fainted when she was
hauled on board: Mary undressed her, and when she had recovered, and
soothed her, left her to enjoy the rest she required to recruit her
strength, which fear had quite exhausted. She returned again to view the
angry deep; and when she gazed on its perturbed state, she thought of
the Being who rode on the wings of the wind, and stilled the noise of
the sea; and the madness of the people--He only could speak peace to
her troubled spirit! she grew more calm; the late transaction had
gratified her benevolence, and stole her out of herself.
One of the sailors, happening to say to another, "that he believed the
world was going to be at an end;" this observation led her into a new
train of thoughts: some of Handel's sublime compositions occurred to
her, and she sung them to the grand accompaniment. The Lord God
Omnipotent reigned, and would reign for ever, and ever!--Why then did
she fear the sorrows that were passing away, when she knew that He would
bind up the broken-hearted, and receive those who came out of great
tribulation. She retired to her cabin; and wrote in the little book that
was now her only confident. It was after midnight.
"At this solemn hour, the great day of judgment fills my thoughts; the
day of retribution, when the secrets of all hearts will be revealed;
when all worldly distinctions will fade away, and be no more seen. I
have not words to express the sublime images which the bare
contemplation of this awful day raises in my mind. Then, indeed, the
Lord Omnipotent will reign, and He will wipe the tearful eye, and
support the trembling heart--yet a little while He hideth his face, and
the dun shades of sorrow, and the thick clouds of folly separate us from
our God; but when the glad dawn of an eternal day breaks, we shall know
even as we are known. Here we walk by faith, and not by sight; and we
have this alternative, either to enjoy the pleasures of life which are
but for a season, or look forward to the prize of our high calling, and
with fortitude, and that wisdom which is from above, endeavour to bear
the warfare of life. We know that many run the race; but he that
striveth obtaineth the crown of victory. Our race is an arduous one! How
many are betrayed by traitors lodged in their own breasts, who wear the
garb of Virtue, and are so near akin; we sigh to think they should ever
lead into folly, and slide imperceptibly into vice. Surely any thing
like happiness is madness! Shall probationers of an hour presume to
pluck the fruit of immortality, before they have conquered death? it is
guarded, when the great day, to which I allude, arrives, the way will
again be opened. Ye dear delusions, gay deceits, farewel! and yet I
cannot banish ye for ever; still does my panting soul push forward, and
live in futurity, in the deep shades o'er which darkness hangs.--I try
to pierce the gloom, and find a resting-place, where my thirst of
knowledge will be gratified, and my ardent affections find an object to
fix them. Every thing material must change; happiness and this
fluctating principle is not compatible. Eternity, immateriality, and
happiness,--what are ye? How shall I grasp the mighty and fleeting
conceptions ye create?"
After writing, serenely she delivered her soul into the hands of the
Father of Spirits; and slept in peace.