We rigged up a sort of awning, and brought the two sick men out of the
fo'castle, and slung cots for them under it, and the two ladies at once
took charge of them. Then we set to work to get up a little tent for the
ladies on the poop. We rigged an awning over the fo'castle for the rest
of us, for I thought it better that no one should sleep below.
That night one of the sick men died, but the next day the other showed
signs of mending. This was hopeful, for not one of those who had caught
the fever before had recovered. The next day two men of the original
crew were down with it. I can't tell you how the two ladies nursed
those sick men; if they had been their own brothers they could not have
done more for them. The parson helped them.
At first our hands were pretty full, as you may guess, and it was a good
thing it was so, for the men had no time to think or to wonder whose
turn was to come next. All hands were on duty during the day, and at
night I divided them into two watches, four men in one and three in the
other.
I kept on deck all night, and managed to get a sleep in the daytime.
Night and morning all hands mustered for prayers; and often, as we went
about our work during the day, we could hear Jane Williams singing a
hymn, as she sat beside the sick men. The calmness of the two ladies did
more even than work to keep up the men's heart and courage; and even the
three of the old crew still on their feet picked up and grew hopeful.
Neither of the two men last attacked died; and when four days more
passed without anyone else sickening, we began to think that the fever
had lost its power.
But one morning, just as the dawn was stealing over the sky, Mrs.
Williams came out from the little tent on the poop, and hurried up to me
as I was pacing up and down by the rail. There was no need for her to
speak. It was light enough to see that her face was pale and her lips
quivering, and her hands in a sort of restless flutter. I knew at once
that Jane Williams was down with the fever. It seemed to me as if her
voice sounded from a long way off as she said:
"Will you call my husband, Mr. Thompson? I fear that our Jane is ill."
It was light enough, but I stumbled against things half a dozen times as
I made my way forward and sent the parson to his child. All that day
the ship seemed under a spell. The men moved about without speaking a
word, and I am sure there wasn't one of them who wouldn't have given his
life for hers. It was late in the evening when Mr. Williams came
forward, and taking my hand said:
"Jane wishes to speak to you."
Her mother came out of the tent as I went in. I moved up to the side of
the cot on which Jane was lying, and took her hand, but I couldn't have
spoken if my life depended on it. She smiled quietly up at me.
"I wanted to say good-bye, Dick. I know what you have wished for, but
you see God has settled it otherwise, and He knows what is best for us.
Do not grieve, dear; we shall meet again, you know!"
She died that night. Before morning a strong breeze sprang up and
freshened to a gale. I didn't think we should live through it,
short-handed as we were, and cared nothing whether we did or not; but I
had to do my duty. We had to cut away many of the sails, for we were
too weak to handle them. At last we got her under snug canvas. We ran
four days before the gale, and when it died out got sail on again, and
made our way safely to the Cape.
The gale had blown the last of the fever away, and by the time we
reached the Cape the three sick men were all fit for duty again. When
we got there we fumigated and whitewashed her, and shipped some fresh
hands and brought her home.
Uncle Dick stopped. The story was told. To him it was ended when Jane
Williams died. The three girls were crying quietly, and not a word was
spoken till the eldest rose from her seat, and putting her hands on his
shoulders, stooped and kissed him.
"And that is the reason, Uncle Dick," she said, "why you never married?"
"I suppose so, Bessy. I have waited. You know she said we should meet
again!"
*THE EXPLOSION IN THE VAUGHAN PIT.*
*FROM "FACING DEATH."*
[Jack Simpson was a young collier working at the Vaughan pit in
Lancashire. By careful attention to his work, and by private study of
the science of mining, he had raised himself to the position of "viewer"
or underground foreman. The mine having been found to be badly
ventilated and dangerous, steps were being taken to put it right. But,
as the events of the following story show, it was too late.]
One day, when Jack came up from his rounds at ten o'clock, to eat his
breakfast and write up his journal of the state of the mine, he saw Mr.
Brook (the owner of the mine) and the manager drive up to the pit mouth.
Jack shrank back from the little window of the office where he was
writing, and did not look out again until he knew that they had
descended the mine; he did not wish to have any appearance of thrusting
himself forward.
For another hour he wrote; and then the window of the office flew in
pieces, the chairs danced, and the walls rocked, while a dull heavy
roar, like distant thunder, burst upon his ears.
Jack leaped to his feet and rushed to the door. Black smoke was pouring
up from the pit's mouth, sticks and pieces of wood and coal were falling
in a shower in the yard; and Jack saw that his worst fears had been
realized, and that a terrible explosion had taken place in the Vaughan
pit.
For a moment he stood stunned. There were, he knew, over three hundred
men and boys in the pit, and he turned faint and sick as the thought of
their fate came across him. Then he ran towards the top of the shaft.
The bankman lay insensible at a distance of some yards from the pit,
where he had been thrown by the force of the explosion. Two or three men
came running up with white scared faces. The smoke had nearly ceased
already; the damage was done, and a deadly stillness seemed to reign.
Jack ran into the engine-house. The engineman was leaning against a
wall, scared and almost fainting.
"Are you hurt, John?"
"No!"
"Pull yourself round, man. The first thing is to see if the lift is all
right. I see one of the cages is at bank, and the force of the
explosion is in the upcast shaft. Just give a turn or two to the engine
and see if the winding gear is all right. Slowly."
The engineman turned on the steam; there was a slight movement, and then
the engine stopped.
"A little more steam," Jack said. "The cage has caught, but it may
come."
There was a jerk, and then the engine began to work.
"That is all right," Jack said, "whether the lower cage is on or not.
Stop now, and wind it back, and get the other cage up again. Does the
bell act, I wonder?"
Jack pulled the wire which, when in order, struck a bell at the bottom
of the shaft, and then looked at a bell hanging over his head for the
answer. None came.
"I expect the wire's broken," he said, and went out to the pit's mouth
again.
The surface-men were all gathered round now, the tip-men, and the
yard-men, and those from the coke-ovens, all looking wild and pale.
"I am going down," Jack said; "we may find some poor fellows near the
bottom, and can't wait till a head-man comes on the ground. Who will go
with me? I don't want any married men, for you know, lads, there may be
another blow at any moment."
"I will go with you," one of the yard-men said, stepping forward;
"there's no one dependent on me."
"I, too," said another; "it doesn't matter to any one but myself whether
I come up again or not."