The steamboat wharf of the town of Elton was truly a scene of busy life.
The steamer was making full preparations for the embarkation of
passengers to a distant city; and the wharf was crowded with bales of
goods, casks of water, cabs, trucks, &c. Business men were hurrying to
and fro, sailors were shouting to each other, and friends were hastily
clambering up the plank and springing on deck to remain a few minutes
longer, if possible, with those from, whom they were so soon to be
severed, "it might be for years, and it might be forever."
But the bell has rung once, twice, its warning note, and now, for the
third time, it peals out on the clear air. The last clasp of the hand,
the hurried embrace, the fervent "God bless you," is given, and those
who are to remain have trodden the plank, regained the wharf, and now
turn, before departing to their respective homes, to take a farewell
glance at the steamer, as she moves slowly and gracefully away, bearing,
it may be, from many their heart's most cherished idols. The passengers
are assembled on deck, watching the receding shores, and many
handkerchiefs are waving a last response to those eager glances, an
adieu which, alas, few there dream shall prove final to so many.
At the farther end of the deck, close by the railing, is seated a lady
in travelling costume. She is alone, for her companion, an elderly
gentleman, has left her to salute a friend whose face he had just
recognized among the crowd of passengers.
"A lady accompanies you, I see," was the remark made to Mr. Cameron by
his friend, the Rev. Mr. Dunseer, after the first salutations were over.
"Yes, Miss Wiltshire, from B----.
"Miss Wiltshire? I thought I recognized the countenance as one I had
seen before."
"Ah, so you have had a previous acquaintance with her."
"Yes; for I am sure it is the same person. She is the niece, is she not,
of Mr. Denham, of B----; but I first met her when she was visiting the
part of the country in which I was stationed for a year or two."
"I remember perfectly the time," was the reply. "Her relatives had
become alarmed at her failing health, and change of air had been ordered
by the physician."
"And so she is going to H----."
"Yes, on a visit to her mother's brother, Mr. Edwards. His only daughter
is about to be married, and they have sent for her to be bride's maid.
Miss Wiltshire has never seen any of the family as yet, with the
exception of Mr. Edwards, who came to B----, on business, and then, for
the first time, had an opportunity of becoming acquainted with his
niece."
"It is rather singular," was the reply, while a smile lighted up the
fine countenance of the speaker, "that I am on a somewhat similar
errand. The groom, who for many years has been an intimate friend of
mine, insisted on my performing the marriage ceremony. I maintained that
it was the lady's privilege to select a clergyman, but, as he said that
their wishes were one in that respect, I was compelled to concede, and
am on my way thither for that purpose."
"I am heartily glad of it," said Mr. Cameron. "Miss Wiltshire will, I am
sure, be pleased to see you again, and she will now have more agreeable
company than an old man like me can possibly be; so if you have no
objection we will join her, for she appears to be engaged in a converse
with solitude."
"I was about proposing to do so, for to renew my acquaintance with one
whom I had learned, during her brief sojourn, so highly to esteem, will
indeed be an agreeable episode in my journey."
While this conversation was carried on between the two friends, Agnes
had risen from her seat, and with one hand on the railing was leaning
slightly over the side of the steamer, watching the ebb and flow of the
transparent waves, or gazing fondly on the shores fast fading in the
distance. She was not apt to be melancholy; indeed, she seldom allowed
herself to indulge in a mood so opposed to that cheerfulness which
should characterize a Christian; but as she stood there gazing on the
mingled beauties of sea and land, more beautiful than ever at this hour,
when the golden hues of sunset were reflected in the placid waters, and
touched with fresh glory the distant hills, dark and gloomy shadows
stole over her spirit.
And, indeed, distressing to youth, so dependent on the kindness and
sympathy of others, were the circumstances under which she was now
placed. She had bade adieu to the friends who had watched over her from
childhood, not as hitherto, during her brief visits, with the loving
farewell and the earnest injunction to speedily return; but cold looks
and colder words had marked that parting, with the very distant
intimation, on the part of her uncle, that if, on the expiration of her
sojourn among strangers, her fanatical views; as he termed them,
remained unchanged, she must expect to find herself banished from the
home of her childhood. Poor Agnes! a painful decision awaited her. With
all the affection of her warm and unsophisticated spirit, had she repaid
the tenderness that had been lavished upon her, and now to find herself
charged with having acted a foolish and ungrateful part,--to be thrust
forth from a home of luxury,--from the attention and sympathy of
friends,--to battle with a world that has but little kindness, in
general, to spare for those who need it most; these were painful and
harassing thoughts, and what wonder they weighed down that gentle and
timid spirit, and suffused those lustrous eyes which, until lately, had
seldom shed the tear of sorrow, except for other's woes.
But as, lost in these troubled reflections, she glanced at the giant
waves beneath her, suddenly a sweet promise of Holy Writ was applied to
her agitated mind, "When thou passest through the waters I will be with
thee, and through the floods, they shall not overflow thee,"--and
immediately her spirit grew calmer, while a sense of peace, comfort and
security, quelled each rising doubt.
"I have nothing to fear," she murmured.
"His voice commands the tempest forth,
And stills the stormy wave,--
And though his arm be strong to smite,
'Tis also strong to save."
Agnes was aroused from her reverie by Mr. Cameron's cheerful voice.
"My dear Miss Wiltshire, allow me to present to you an old friend."
She turned to salute the stranger, but what was her surprise and delight
to find in him the clergyman under whose ministrations she had so
largely profited. The pleasure, indeed, seemed mutual, for though Mr.
Dunseer, having shortly after Agnes's departure for the city left that
part of the country, had consequently heard nothing more of her, he
still remembered his young and attentive hearer, and had often since
then desired to see her again, and ascertain if indeed the impressions
made were lasting, or had been obliterated amid the whirl and gayety of
fashionable life.
Still more delighted was Agnes when she learned of his destination; it
seemed a link binding her to those with whom, with the exception of Mr.
Edwards, she was totally unacquainted; and from the depth of her heart
she silently thanked the kind Providence who had thus directed her
steps, and permitted a meeting so fraught with comfort and encouragement
at the very time most needed.
Long and pleasant was the converse of friends that evening, and it was
not until some time after the sun had set, and dark and heavy clouds,
sweeping across the sky like armies gathering to battle, had obscured
the light of the rising moon, that Agnes, with a heart peaceful and
trusting, retired to her state-room, and in spite of the dash of waves,
and the wail of the rising wind, resigned herself to slumbers calm and
blest.
But from pleasant dreams of home and friends, she was suddenly aroused
by the confusion and hurried tramping of feet above her head, mingled
with the shrieks of women and children, and the fearful ejaculations of
terrified men. Agnes started up, scarcely realizing that she was indeed
"on the wide billows of the raging sea." Drawing aside the curtains from
her berth, she glanced out into the cabin. It was not day, for the
lights were burning brightly, but the place was a scene of wild dismay;
women wringing their hands; children clinging to their mothers; all
bespoke such terror and despair, that for a moment Agnes felt
bewildered; but quickly recovering herself, and hastily rising, she was
soon in the midst of the terrified group, where she was immediately
joined by Mr. Cameron and his friend.
"What is the matter?" was her first ejaculation.
"The steamer is on fire," was the fearful reply. "Quick, my dear girl,
secure whatever you find to be most necessary, while they are getting
the boats ready."
With that self-possession so invaluable in the time of danger, Agnes
hastily, but calmly, equipped herself comfortably, secured about her
person a small purse of money, and then aided the other lady passengers
in their frantic efforts to prepare for this trying emergency. Very soon
the Captain's stentorian voice was heard,--"The boats are ready, ladies,
there is no time to be lost."
With a face pallid as death, yet serene in its very paleness, Agnes,
accompanied by her two friends, and followed by a number of the other
passengers, ascended the staircase, and, having gained the deck, glanced
for an instant at the fearful scene.
There was, indeed, as the Captain had affirmed, no time to be lost. The
fire, which had originated in the engine-room, from the carelessness of
one of the hands, was now making fearful headway, in spite of the
continued efforts of the sailors by deluging it with buckets of water,
to mitigate in a measure, its ravages. All the fore-part of the vessel
was burning, and awfully sublime was the spectacle as the flames mounted
higher and higher, casting their lurid glare over the intensely dark
waste of waters, whose turbid and sullen waves, lashed into fury by a
fierce north-eastern blast, seemed warning the unhappy sufferers of the
fearful fate that awaited them, should they commit themselves more
immediately to its mercy.
But the danger of embarkation in those frail boats, on an ocean that
every moment grew more tempestuous, was almost lost sight of in
contemplation of the nearer and more fearful fate that awaited them
should they linger; and quickly, and with scarce a murmur of
apprehension, the boat was filled.
While Mr. Cameron was assisting Agnes into the frail boat, Mr. Dunseer,
who had secured a life-preserver, as soon as she was safely seated
handed it to her, observing that if the boat should be upset, by
clinging to it she might be preserved from a watery grave.
Thanking him for his kind consideration at such a time, Agnes inquired
anxiously of the two gentlemen whether they were not to accompany her.
"No;" was the reply of Mr. Cameron. "I fear we must be separated, but
only I trust for a time. This boat is not sufficiently large to hold
more than the lady passengers and the sailors who are to manage it. We
are to embark, as soon as you are safely off, in another, but as both
will steer for the same shore, and keep near each other as much as
possible, I trust, by the mercy of Providence, we shall meet again on
=terra firma=.
"Yes," responded the minister, who had been for a moment silent, and his
clear voice sounded like the spirit of peace above the roaring flames
and raging billows, "we are steering, I trust, for the same shore, and
should we never meet again on earth, may it be our happy lot to greet
each other in the haven of eternal rest, haven to take the shipwrecked
in."
Agnes's heart was for a moment too full to speak, but controlling
herself, she said to Mr. Cameron in a hurried whisper, "If anything
should happen to me, and you again behold my friends, tell them, oh,
tell them, that my last thoughts were for them; tell them not to lament
for me, for I shall be at rest, but, oh, I charge, I implore them to
meet me in heaven!"
A burst of tears closed the sentence; she could no longer restrain her
feelings.
"We must leave you now, my dear child," said Mr. Cameron, after
promising compliance with her request. "May heaven bless and help you."
"And may He who holds the winds and the waves in the hollow of his hand,
preserve you, and all, through the hours of this terrible night," was
the solemn ejaculation of Mr. Dunseer, as pressing for the last time her
hand, the final order was given, the boat pushed out from the side of
the burning vessel, and she was left in the midst of strangers;
strangers personally, yet linked together by the sympathy arising from
mutual danger.