A NIGHT'S PROBATION.
"Why must Gertrude go so soon?" asked Christian of his mother, one fine
evening, when the little family were seated at their homely supper. "I
am sure when she came, she did not mean to go away so soon. Nobody
wishes her to go."
"I wish her to stay," replied Mrs. Snoek; “and Gertrude knows that I do;
so that I think she would stay if she could. But you can ask her."
Gertrude must go the next morning, though she was as fond of the
country, and as sorry to leave her friends as Christian could desire.
Her servant had orders to prepare for the little voyage, and----
"I will stop her," cried both the younger children, each trying to
outstrip the other in getting down from their high stools and flying to
the door. Their mother called them back, with a rebuke for leaving their
seats before grace was said; and even Christian thought that Gertrude
should be allowed to do as she pleased.
"But," he continued, "the pastor comes with Heins to-morrow or the next
day; and you could go home with them, instead of having only your old
woman to talk to in the trekschuit."
"The pastor will talk to you instead of to me," replied Gertrude, with a
smile; "and that will be better for you than parting with three friends
at one time."
"But you have never seen the rush-planting here," exclaimed Luc. "We all
came too late for the spring planting; and now, you are going away
before the autumn one. I do not know whether they will let me plant any
this year; but last year, they would not allow any children to go nearer
than the top of the dyke. Just as if we should pull any up!"
The imputation of pulling up reeds from the dykes was repelled as
indignantly by a Dutchman, woman, or child, in those days, as a charge
of sheep-stealing would now be in this country. Such an act was death,
according to the old Dutch law, and the entire nation was educated to
regard it with disgust and horror.
Christian told how he was laid on the edge of the dyke, and saw gangs of
men and women at work on the slope, planting the reeds with which the
banks were bristled, in order that the sand which was washed up by the
sea should be retained till it hardened into an outer coating of the
mound. If Gertrude would stay, perhaps Heins would take the whole party
out in a boat, to see from the bay the people at work all along the
dyke, while the sea washed their very feet.--Mrs. Snoek thought it a
still better reason for Gertrude's remaining that Amsterdam was now in
its least healthy state. She would find the canals very offensive, after
the air of the open sea, to which she had been accustomed of late. In
another month they would be cleared out, and then all would be safe till
the next season's hot weather. Katrina, who was waiting,--that is,
sitting at work in the window till she should be wanted,--put in an
observation that the waters round Winkel had never been fresher than
now. The late high seas had filled the channel between the inner and the
sea-dyke, and all the mills had been in full activity for some days. The
apothecary was of opinion that there would be less ague at Winkel this
autumn than for many seasons past. So saying, Katrina looked out, to see
how all the mills within view appeared to be alive, their sails
swinging, and their machinery, open towards the water, whirling and
twisting, as if by some self-moving power.
She did not draw in her head immediately; and Luc would have hastened to
see what it was that attracted her attention, but that grace had not yet
been said.
"Kaatje, what is the matter?" asked her mistress, as she saw the work
drop from the maid's hands.
"Christ, have pity! the dyke has burst!" exclaimed Katrina. "The flood
comes pouring----Mercy! how it sweeps in by the peat-field!"
"The peat-field! Then we are lost," cried Gertrude. "Where----"
"Mother!" said Christian, "say grace, and let us go."
Not one word of the long grace was omitted or hurried, or pronounced in
a less steady voice than usual. When it was ended, Mrs. Snoek issued her
orders.
"To the upper rooms, my children! Christian, we will carry you to the
top of the house. Katrina, ring the great bell. It may be heard as far
as the village. But first, close all the lower shutters. They may be
some little defence. And, Gertrude, we must put out a flag from the
roof."
"The summer-house!" suggested Christian. "The boat is there."
"True, true. We will get to the summer-house, if there is still time."
There was time, as the summer-house stood on high ground, and the water
had not yet reached the lowest part of the garden. The servants and
children ran as for their lives. Mrs. Snoek and Gertrude, who carried
Christian's little couch between them, walked more slowly, and stopped
at a seat half-way up the gravel walk. There they looked around, and
perceived that their abode and its precincts formed a little island in
the midst of a flood, which was rapidly advancing on every side, as if
to close them in. Tossing waves were chasing each other over the green
fields, swallowing up all that came in their way; while the terrified
cattle, for the most part, ran towards the farm-buildings on the little
dyke below, as if to find safety there; and a few endeavoured to keep
their footing in the midst of the tide, lashing with their tails every
swell that came to buffet them. The trim garden, with its gay beds,
shone in the evening light with as quiet an air as if its low hedge
formed a sufficient security from the deluge, while a sunny haze hung
like a canopy over its recesses, and made the tranquillity of the upper
air contrast strangely with the watery surface, which seemed troubled by
storm. Far off, the village rose upon the loftier dyke which bordered
the canal, its grey willows looking as firmly rooted, its houses as
spruce as when no one dreamed of its being within the reach of accident.
Thither Gertrude's gaze was turned intently.
"Thank God! the whole country round is not under water," she cried. "It
is only the section between the north canal and Winkel. Thank God! there
are but few in jeopardy."
Christian could perceive that people were gathering on the dyke of the
north canal; and both they and the Winkel people seemed wholly occupied
in watching the section which lay between. Not a face appeared to be
turned the other way.
"A horse!" cried Christian. "Do not you see a horse on the ridge? The
magistrate is out, and the people will begin to do something for us."
That the magistrate was on horseback to take the command,--a practice
which is reserved for very rare occasions,--was a favourable sign; but
Mrs. Snoek silently pointed to one which dashed Christian's confidence.
The dyke which had given way,--the same that had been injured by Slyk's
bog-water,--appeared now to be crumbling down, ell by ell, with a
rapidity which defied all attempts at repair. Its layers of soil oozed
away in mud; its wattles were floating on the billows; and the blocks of
stiff clay which had lain square, one upon another, showed a rounded
surface till they disappeared from their positions. The opening enlarged
every moment, and it seemed as if the tide in the outer channel rose in
proportion as it found a vent. The first dribblings over the edge of the
dyke appeared at wider and wider distances, while the gushing in the
centre grew more copious as the waters below rose to meet it.
"Do but hear!" said Christian, in a low voice. "How it splashes and
roars!"
His mother perceived that spray was beginning to fly in at the gate at
the bottom of the garden, and some of the poor cattle were already
afloat, supported for awhile by the clothing which would soon help to
sink them. She made a sign to Gertrude to resume her share of their
burden, and they proceeded towards the summer-house.--When the servants
had been sent back for the provisions they ought to have brought with
them, and had returned with all they could fetch away, (the lower
apartments being already flooded;) their mistress gave orders for the
summer-house door to be closed. Christian begged to be first carried out
for a moment. He wished to look up to the roof. A stork was perched
there, flapping its wings; and Christian was satisfied. The next thing
to be done was to bring the boat immediately under the window, and to
fasten it securely to the summer-house, that it might not be carried
away out of reach.
"I wish the pastor was here," said Christian, who, with the rest of the
party, had little apprehension of personal danger, as long as the
evening was serene, and the extent of the devastation limited. "I wish
the pastor was here now, to tell us what we ought to do."
"We need no voice of man," replied Gertrude. "Hark, how deep calleth
unto deep!"
The boy looked entranced as he fixed his eyes alternately on the line of
blue sea, where ships were gliding in the light breeze, and on the muddy
surge around, which already bore many wrecks, and assumed a more
threatening appearance every moment. His mother's voice in prayer was
the first thing that roused him.--Before it ceased, the garden had a
multitude of streams running through it, and only a few red and yellow
blossoms reared their heads where all had lately been so gay. Next came
the first dash against the walls of the building, and spray thrown in at
the window, whence Roselyn withdrew in mute terror. Before closing the
shutter, her mother gave an anxious look towards the village and the
farm-buildings.
"The herd and his wife have a boat, and each a stout arm," said she,
"and we may consider them safe. Kaatje, you can row; and both Gertrude
and I can hold an oar. They do not seem to be doing anything for us from
the village."
Katrina, alarmed, like the rest of the party, by her mistress's words
and manner, declared that she had never dipped an oar in troubled
waters. It was little she could do on a canal. The sun was gone down
too, and what were they to attempt in the dark? Surely her mistress
would remain where they were till assistance came, even if that should
not be till morning.--Certainly, if possible, was her mistress's reply;
from which Gertrude inferred that Mrs. Snoek thought the summer-house
unsafe. It was raised on piles, like the best part of Amsterdam, and
more strongly founded than the dwelling-house; but it even now shook
perceptibly; and it seemed too probable that it might fall very soon, if
the rush of waters continued.
Twilight faded away, and darkness succeeded, and no hail from a distance
was yet heard:--no sound but that of waters, to which the party remained
silently listening; Christian, with his eyes fixed on the scarcely
discernible boat which danced below, and Gertrude watching for the moon
as anxiously as if their safety depended on a gleam of light. It came,
at length, quivering on the surface below, and lighting up the tree tops
which appeared here and there like little islands where the inner dyke
had been.
The flood was found to have risen to the level of the floor; and the
servants, almost glad to have something to do, began to lower the
provisions into the boat. Presently a loud crack was heard; the mirror,
which reflected the broken moonbeams, was perceived to hang awry; and,
more ominous still, the stork first fluttered and then sped away.
"Do you see, mother?" said Christian, as he pointed upwards. "We must
go."
"You are not afraid, my dear boy? Katrina and I will go first, and
Gertrude will let you down while we keep the boat steady. You are not
afraid, Christian?"
"I wish Luc was not so frightened," replied the boy, who, in truth,
seemed more animated than alarmed. "Luc, the Spirit is on the face of
these waters too."
Roselyn, tired out, had fallen asleep on her mother's bosom. It was a
rough waking, amidst spray and the chill night air; and she made her
cries heard further than perhaps any signal shout that her companions
could have raised. Nothing that had yet happened had distressed the
party so much as this child's screams, renewed with every pitch of the
boat, which, though strong, and so large as to consist of two cabins,
was now tossed like the lightest shallop. Christian never could bear
Roselyn's lamentations, and they now had their usual effect upon him, of
making him cough dreadfully, and upsetting his cheerfulness for the
time. When he could find voice, he began to complain of several things
which no one could remedy; and struggled the more to express himself,
the more violently his cough returned.
"You must be silent," Gertrude said, gently. "We cannot help one
another. God only can help us now; and we must await his will."
"Thank you for putting me in mind," cheerfully replied the boy. "O,
Gertrude, I wonder what that will is! Do you think we shall sink deep,
deep in these cold waters? I think the apostle Peter was very daring to
go down out of the boat. There is no Christ now to come over these rough
waves, and bid us not be afraid. O, if there were----"
"We can try not to be afraid, as if he were really here," said Gertrude.
"Let us be still, lest we should be tempted to complain."
Christian did not speak again, and tried to suppress his cruel cough.
His mother was aware of the effort, and would have had him carried down,
saying that the poor boy was doomed, whether they ever reached land or
not. He would never get over the exposure of this night. Christian made
no opposition, but Gertrude suggested that the boat itself was in danger
from the wrecks which it encountered; and that the only chance of
safety, in case of any great shock, was in being on the exposed part. So
Christian was left to feed his spirit as he would with the impressions
which came upon his awakened senses.
Katrina's oar had been carried away at the first attempt to use it. The
other could be employed only in pushing off whatever was brought by the
waves to threaten the boat. One object after another was recognized by
the party;--a plank, which from its colour was known to belong to the
farm buildings; and a chest that had stood in the dwelling-house, which
must therefore be down. Whatever security might await her family, Mrs.
Snoek saw that the fruits of long toil and much care were already swept
away.
A fearful crisis came at last, while the party were watching a dark
object at no great distance, which looked like a boat. It might be many
things instead of a boat; but it was more like one than any object they
had seen this night. While she was looking at it, something came
fluttering against Gertrude's face, which made her start. It was the
flag which had waved from the gilt ball of the summerhouse. All turned,
and dimly saw the whole fabric fall in sideways, and disappear amidst a
cloud of dust, which was blown full in their faces. No fixture could be
found near, by which the single oar could be made of any avail to keep
the boat out of the eddy. That there were fixed points was soon made
known, however, by the repeated shocks which the boat underwent; shocks
which threatened to drive in its bottom.
"Now God have mercy upon us!" cried the mother. "If we go down, it will
be now."
A cry arose from the children and the servants. From Christian there was
no cry, but a groan, which, though low, reached his mother's ear and
heart. She saw that his hands were grasping the ribs of the boat.
"My boy, your pain is upon you."
"Never mind me," said the boy, in a voice patient through its agony.
"Let my Father take me. Save Luc. Save Roselyn."
The boat had been staved by the last shock, and was now rapidly sinking.
Help was, however, at hand. The dark object was really a boat. The cry
had directed it to the right spot; it arrived in time to pick up every
one of the party, not before they were wet, but before they were
actually afloat. Christian was very nearly going down with the wreck, so
firmly were his hands clenched to its sides: but his mother exerted her
fast failing strength to rescue him, and afterwards to hold him on her
knees during the fearful struggle with the enemy from which he would
thankfully have been released by drowning.
The villagers who manned the rescuing boat respected the misery of the
mother, whom they believed to be watching over her dying child. They
spoke only to say that the passage to the village would be long and
perilous, and that the earliest assistance would be procured by landing
on the nearest point of the sea dyke, where succours could be brought,
if there should not happen to be a house at hand.
Before the moon had gone down upon the watery waste, the party were
received into the house of a hospitable fisherman, who, with his wife,
did all that could be done for their safety and comfort till they could
be removed to the abode of an acquaintance in Winkel; or, as Gertrude
proposed, to her brother's country house at Saardam. To make the
exertion of this removal was, she believed, the best thing for Mrs.
Snoek's spirits and for Christian's health, which might possibly be
revived by the care which would be bestowed on him by those whom he most
loved, in a familiar scene, far distant from the desolation which must
meet his eye every time he looked abroad, if he remained at Winkel.
His mother consented with the less difficulty that there was every
probability of a fever prevailing in the district which had been laid
waste. She had suffered too much from the flood, to think of braving the
pestilence which must ensue. When her farm servant and his wife came to
condole and relate their share of the perils of the preceding night,
they received her directions about saving the wreck of the property, and
doing what might be practicable towards restoring the estate.
These people were full of indignation at having been left, with their
mistress's family, to try their chance of escape from drowning, while
those who deserved such a fate much more had taken good care of their
own security. Jan and his household had chanced to sleep on board their
boats for two or three nights past, after bustling about with
extraordinary vigour during the day. Slyk and his daughter had also,
most opportunely, been induced to pass a few days with an acquaintance
whose abode was at some distance from the scene of disaster. They came
to sympathize with the Snoeks; old Jakob glorifying Providence for
having interfered in so marvellous a manner to preserve himself and
Fransje; and Fransje full of anxiety to know whether Heins was likely to
come to assist in the great work of reclaiming the section which now lay
waste.
Heins came as appointed, attended by the pastor:--came to see his Danish
cattle floating lifeless in the muddy lake; to try doubtfully to fix the
point where his mother's pretty residence had stood; to ponder whether
the extent of the damage and of his liabilities could be concealed from
his partner; and to wonder how much Gertrude had been told, and what she
would think of the issue of this his first grand scheme of enterprise.
Mrs. Snoek greeted the pastor with a hope that she need not look on this
calamity as a judgment on her solicitude about worldly interests. The
pastor had said much to her, and said it often, about sitting loose from
the things of this world; and she trusted she had taken it to heart.
Unless she was much mistaken, she had only endeavoured to do what, as a
mother, and the widow of an honourable man, it behoved her to improve
her children's fortunes, and justify their father's ambition for them.
The pastor decided that she would best prove the purity of her views by
her cheerful acquiescence in her present losses.
A Dutch lady of a later age would have found it easy to acquiesce in
such losses for the sake of the amount of wealth which remained: but in
the times of the high prosperity of the Dutch, desire grew with
acquisition, and it was not enough to be rich, if it was possible to be
richer, or if others were richer, or if the individual had been so at a
preceding time. Though she and her children had more wealth than they
could consume, the widow found it required all her resignation to bear
patiently the loss of what she had no occasion for.
"You always told me," said Christian to the pastor, "to take care not to
love any people or things too much, because I should most likely have to
leave them all very soon. But you see they have left me.--O, I do not
mean my mother, and Gertrude, and Luc and Roselyn; but I have lost my
pretty calf; and my tame heron has flown away; and my tulips,----that
beautiful late-blower! There was not such a Bybloemen in all the
district as the best of mine. When I bade it farewell for this year, and
looked for the last time into its cup, with its white bottom, so
beautifully broken with cherry, I did not think it would be rotting
under the water so soon. I never saw such a cup as that flower had. I
shall never see such another."
The pastor shook his head. Christian, taking this for sympathy in his
grief, went on,
"And my calf had got to know me, and to let me do what I liked with him.
He stood quite still to let me help to put on his jacket yesterday when
the evening chill was coming on. I am glad I did not see him die, if he
splashed in the water like one poor cow that I saw. I shall never love
another calf. O, now I know why you shake your head so. You think that I
should soon have left them, if they had not left me. Perhaps I may never
get better than I am to-day; and to-day I cannot sit up at all. But,
tell me one thing I want to know. Do you think animals live again? It
seems very hard that my calf should die so soon, if it is not to live
any more: and, if I am to die soon too----"
"You would like to meet whatever you have loved," said the pastor,
finishing his sentence for him. "I think God will give you beings to
love wherever you are, Christian; because I think you cannot live
without loving; and I am very sure that, wherever you are, there will be
some to love you."
Christian smiled, and said that people loved him now out of kindness,
because they were sorry for his pain, and that he could not do what
other children did: and he loved them because they were so good as not
to mind the trouble he was always giving them. He was sure they would
not forget him when he had ceased to be a trouble to any body; and
perhaps he could do something for them when there should be an end of
all pain, and when he might perhaps be as strong as the angel that stood
between heaven and earth, and cried out so that the thunders answered
him. This reminded Christian to tell how he now knew what the voices
were like that came from under God's throne. Last night, he had learned
what was the sound of many waters. Just when his pain came on, he
thought these voices were calling for him. He seemed now disappointed
that it had not been so. The pastor told him that it should be left to
God to call him away in whispers or in thunders. His only care should be
to hold himself ready to depart.