THE YELLOW FEVER.
Mollie went to her state-room, and changed her clothes; and she did not
come out till she had kneeled down and poured forth another prayer of
thanksgiving for her safety from the horrible monster that would have
devoured her. Her father kissed her again, as she returned to the cabin.
He was as grateful as she was, and he took no pains to conceal the
emotions which agitated him.
"Now tell me all about it, Mollie," said he. "How happened you to fall
overboard?"
"I was careless, father. Noddy was persuading me to sit down at the
moment when I went overboard," replied she.
"I was afraid of the sharks as soon as I knew what they were; and I was
thinking what an awful thing it would be if she should fall overboard,"
added Noddy.
"If I had minded you, Noddy, I shouldn't have been in danger."
The story was told by the two little adventurers, each correcting or
helping out the other, till the whole truth was obtained. It was evident
to the captain and the mate, that Noddy had behaved with vigor and
decision, and that, if he had been less prompt and energetic, poor
Mollie must have become the victim of the ravenous shark.
"You have saved her life, Noddy; that's plain enough," said Captain
McClintock, as he rose and went to his state-room.
"You were smart, my boy, and you deserve a great deal of credit," added
Mr. Watts.
"I don't mind that; I was too glad to get her out of the water to think
of anything else."
"Well, Noddy, you did good work that time, and you have won a great deal
of honor by it."
"You shall win something better than that, Noddy," said the captain, as
he returned to the cabin with a little bag in his hand. "Here are ten
gold pieces, my boy--one hundred dollars."
He handed Noddy the bright coins; but the little hero's face flushed,
and he looked as discontented as though he had been robbed of the honor
of his exploit.
"You shall win a hundred dollars by the operation," continued the
captain.
"Thank you, sir, but I don't want any money for that," replied Noddy,
whose pride revolted at the idea, however tempting the money looked to
him.
"Take it, Noddy. You have done a good piece of work, and you ought to
win something for it," added the captain.
"I don't want to win any money for a job like that, Captain McClintock.
I am already well paid for what I have done. I can't take any money for
it. I feel too good already; and I am afraid if I take your gold I
should spoil it all."
"You are as proud as a lord, Noddy."
"I'm sure, if we had lost Miss Mollie, I should have missed her as much
as anybody, except her father. I shouldn't feel right to be paid for
doing such a thing as knocking a shark in the head. I hated the monster
bad enough to kill him, if he hadn't been going to do any mischief."
"Then you won't take this money, Noddy?" continued the captain.
"I'd rather not, sir. I shouldn't feel right if I did."
"And I shouldn't feel right if you didn't. You don't quite understand
the case, Noddy."
"I think I do, sir."
"No, you don't. Let me tell you about it. You have done something which
fills me with gratitude to you. I want to do something to express that
gratitude. I don't know that I can do it in any other way just now than
by making you a little present. I don't mean to pay you."
"It looks like that."
"No it don't look a bit like it. Do you think I value my daughter's life
at no more than a hundred dollars?"
"I know you do, captain."
"If I expected to pay you for what you have done, I should give you
every dollar I have in the world, and every dollar which my property
would bring if it were sold; and then I should feel that you had not
half got your due."
"I don't care about any money, sir," persisted Noddy.
"Let me make you a present, then. It would make me feel better to do
something for you."
"I'm sure I would do anything to accommodate you."
"Then take the money."
Noddy took it very reluctantly, and felt just as though he was stealing
it. Mr. Watts joined with the captain in arguing the matter, and he
finally felt a little better satisfied about it. When he realized that
he was the honest possessor of so large a sum, he felt like a rich man,
and could not help thinking of the pleasure it would afford him to pour
all these gold coins into Bertha's lap, and tell how he had won them.
Mollie had something to say about the matter, and of course she took her
father's side of the question; and the captain concluded the debate by
assuring Noddy, if his daughter had to die, he would give more than a
hundred dollars to save her from the maw of a shark, that she might die
less horribly by drowning. On the whole, the cabin-boy was pretty well
satisfied that he had won the money honestly, and he carefully bestowed
it with his clothing in his berth.
Early in the morning Mr. Watts went on shore with a boat's crew, to
commence bringing off the water casks. It required the whole forenoon to
remove the old casks, and stow the new ones in the hold. About eleven
o'clock the mate complained of a chilly sensation, and a pain in his
back, which was followed up by a severe headache. He was soon compelled
to leave his work, and take to his berth in the cabin. The next boat
from the shore brought off a surgeon, who promptly pronounced the
disease the yellow fever.
Before the Roebuck could get off, two of the sailors were attacked by
the terrible malady. The only safety for the rest was in immediate
flight; and the schooner got under way, and stood out to sea. The doctor
had left ample directions for the treatment of the disease, but the
medicines appeared to do no good. Mr. Watts was delirious before night.
The two men in the forecastle were no better, and the prospect on board
the vessel was as gloomy as it could be.
Mollie stood by the sufferer in the cabin, in spite of the protest of
her father. She knew what the fever was; but she seemed to be endued
with a courage which was more than human. She nursed the sick man
tenderly, and her simple prayer for his recovery ascended every hour
during the long night. One of the men forward died before morning, and
was committed to the deep by his terrified messmates, without even a
form of prayer over his plague-stricken remains.
Towards night, on the second day out of Barbadoes, Mr. Watts breathed
his last. By the light of the lanterns, his cold form was placed on a
plank extended over the rail. Mollie would not permit him to be buried
in his watery grave without a prayer, and Captain McClintock read one.
Many tears were shed over him, as his body slid off into the sea. Noddy
and Mollie wept bitterly, for they felt that they had lost a good
friend.
There was only one more patient on board, and he seemed to be improving;
but before the morning sun rose, red and glaring on the silent ocean,
there were three more. Captain McClintock was one of them. There was
none to take care of him but Mollie and Noddy; and both of them,
regardless of the demands of their own bodies, kept vigil by his couch.
More faithful nurses a sick man never had. They applied the remedies
which had been used before.
On the following day two more of the crew were committed to their ocean
graves, and despair reigned throughout the vessel. The captain grew
worse every hour, and poor Mollie was often compelled to leave the
bedside that he might not see her weeping over him. He soon became
delirious, and did not even know her.
"O, Noddy," exclaimed she, when she fully realized the situation of her
father, "I shall soon be alone."
"Don't give up, Mollie," replied the cabin-boy sadly.
"I have prayed till I fear my prayers are no longer heard," sobbed she.
"Yes, they are, Mollie. Don't stop praying," said Noddy, who knew that
the poor girl had derived a great deal of hope and comfort from her
prayers.
He had seen her kneel down when she was almost overcome by the horrors
which surrounded them, and rise as calm and hopeful as though she had
received a message direct from on high. Perhaps he had no real faith in
her prayers, but he saw what strength she derived from them. Certainly
they had not warded off the pestilence, which was still seeking new
victims on board. But they were the life of Mollie's struggling
existence; and it was with the utmost sincerity that he had counselled
her to continue them.
"My father will die!" groaned the poor girl. "Nothing can save him now."
"No, he won't die. He isn't very bad yet, Mollie."
"O, yes, he is. He does not speak to me; he does not know me."
"He is doing very well, Mollie. Don't give it up yet."
"I feel that he will soon leave me."
"No, he won't, Mollie. I _know_ he will get well," said Noddy, with the
most determined emphasis.
"How do you know?"
"I feel that he will. He isn't half so bad as Mr. Watts was. Cheer up,
and he will be all right in a few days."
"But think how terrible it would be for my poor father to die, away here
in the middle of the ocean," continued Mollie, weeping most bitterly, as
she thought of the future.
"But he will not die; I am just as sure that he will get well, as I am
that I am alive now."
Noddy had no reason whatever for this strong assertion, and he made it
only to comfort his friend. It was not made in vain, for the afflicted
daughter was willing to cling to any hope, however slight, and the
confident words of the boy made an impression upon her. The morrow came,
and the captain was decidedly better; but from the forecastle came the
gloomy report that two more of the men had been struck down by the
disease.
There were but three seamen left who were able to do duty, and Mr.
Lincoln, the second mate, was nearly exhausted by watching and anxiety.
Fortunately, the weather had been fine, and the Roebuck had been under
all sail, with a fair wind. Noddy had obtained a little sleep during the
second night of the captain's illness, and he went on deck to report to
the mate for duty. He was competent to steer the vessel in a light
breeze, and he was permitted to relieve the man at the wheel.
He stood his trick of two hours, and then went below, to ascertain the
condition of the captain. As he descended the ladder, he discovered the
form of Mollie extended on one of the lockers. Her face was flushed, and
she was breathing heavily. Noddy was appalled at this sight, for he knew
too well what these indications meant.
"What is the matter, Mollie?" asked he, hardly able to speak the words
from the violence of his emotion.
"It is my turn now, Noddy," replied she, in faint tones. "Who will pray
for me?"
"I will, Mollie; but what ails you?"
"I am burning up with heat, and perishing with cold. My back feels as if
it was broken, and the pain darts up through my neck into my head. I
know very well what it means. You will take care of my poor
father--won't you, Noddy?"
"To be sure I will. You must turn in, Mollie, and let me take care of
you, too," said he, trying to be as calm as the terrible situation
required of him.
He assisted the stricken maiden to her state-room, and placed her in her
berth. Taking from the medicine chest the now familiar remedy, he gave
her the potion, and tenderly ministered to all her wants. She was very
sick, for she had struggled with the destroying malady for hours before
she yielded to its insidious advances.
"Thank you, Noddy. I feel better now, and I shall soon be happy. Go now
and see to my father; don't let him want for anything."
"I will not, Mollie; I will take first-rate care of him," answered
Noddy, as he smoothed down the clothing around her neck.
"My father is the captain of the ship, you know," added she, with a
smile. "He is a great man; bigger than any shark you ever saw."
Her mind had begun to wander already; and her patient nurse could hardly
keep down his tears, as he gazed at her flushed cheeks, and smoothed
down the curls upon her neck. She was beautiful to him--too beautiful to
die there in mid ocean, with none but rude men to shed great tears over
her silent form. How he wished that Bertha was there, to watch over that
frail little form, and ward off the grim tyrant that was struggling to
possess it! She would not fear the pangs of the pestilence; she would be
an angel in the little state-room, and bring down peace and hope, if not
life, to the lovely sufferer.
Noddy felt as he had never felt before, not even when the dread monster
of the deep had almost snapped up the slight form before him. All the
good lessons he had ever learned in his life came to him with a force
they had never possessed in the sunny hour of prosperity. He wanted to
pray. He felt the need of a strength not his own. Mollie could not pray
now. Her mind was darkened by the shadows of disease. He went out into
the cabin. It looked as cheerless, and cold, and gloomy, as the inside
of a tomb. But God was there; and though Noddy could not speak the
words of his prayer, his heart breathed a spirit which the infinite
Father could understand. He prayed, as he had promised the sick girl he
would, and the strength which prayer had given to her was given to him.
"Here is work for me," said he, as he approached the door of the
captain's state-room. "But I am able to do it. I will never give up this
work."
He did not know what he was to win by this work of love, amid trials and
tribulation. He had struggled with the disposition to despond; he had
worked like a hero to keep his spirits up; and that which he was called
upon to do with his hands was small and trivial compared with that which
was done by his mind and heart. He had conquered fear and despair.
Thus prepared to battle with the giant ills which surrounded him, he
entered Captain McClintock's room.