[Illustration:
Gerald at Court. _Page 35._]
THE
FOUNDLING OF THE WRECK.
[Illustration:
The Happy Discovery. _Page 41._]
London:
GROOMBRIDGE AND SONS,
PATERNOSTER ROW.
THE
FOUNDLING OF THE WRECK.
CHAPTER I.
A SHIPWRECK.
If our young readers will take a map of Europe, and look to the west,
they will see a broad wide sea called the Baltic, stretching northward
and separating the countries of Norway and Sweden from Russia. To the
east of this sea is a gulf, called the Gulf of Finland, and at the
extremity of that gulf, at the mouth of the river Neva, stands the city
of St. Petersburg, the capital of Russia in Europe.
St. Petersburg is at the present time a populous and beautiful city. It
contains so many splendid buildings, that it is sometimes called a city
of palaces, but about the beginning of the eighteenth century (which is
a hundred and fifty years ago,) the ground on which it stands was an
immense bog, or marsh, surrounded by dreary forests. The only persons
who dwelt on the then desolate spot were some fishermen who built a
few little cabins near the water’s edge; but as the river at certain
seasons of the year frequently overflowed its banks, and the cabins
were sometimes washed away, even these few little tenements were often
deserted.
I dare say most of our young readers have heard or read of Peter the
Great, the celebrated Emperor, or Czar of Russia. He built the city of
St. Petersburg, and called it after his own name; but of that we shall
speak hereafter, at present we have to do with a humble individual,
named Michael Kopt, who lived in one of the cabins we have spoken of.
Michael’s father was a Swede, and could read and write, and was
therefore far in advance of the ignorant Russian serfs, among whom
he lived. Having been carried prisoner to Russia, during one of the
numerous wars between the Russians and Swedes, he had been compelled to
obtain his living as a fisherman. He taught his son Michael all that
he had himself learned, and also brought him up to his trade. When
Michael became a man, he married a young woman, the daughter of one of
the same craft; they were very poor, but they lived happily together,
for Margaret was thrifty and affectionate, and Michael steady, sober
and industrious. During the fishing season, Michael applied himself
very diligently to his business, and with his wife’s assistance, dried
and salted the greater part of the fish which he caught, then, when the
floods were expected, they removed to a village some miles distant, and
lived on the produce of their joint labour.
One season Michael and his wife remained in the fishing-hut, a few
weeks later than usual, on account of the fineness of the weather, and
there being no signs of the floods. However, on the day before that
fixed for their departure, a violent storm suddenly arose, and it was
evident that the cabins were in danger of being swept away, either by
the strong gale which blew from the sea, or by the water. Terrified by
the prospect, the two or three fishermen who had been their companions
hurried off, even in the midst of the storm, hoping to reach a place of
safety, before the floods overtook them; and Michael and Margaret were
preparing to follow their example, when they were startled by hearing
the firing of guns as from a ship in distress. The fisherman and his
wife looked at each other in deep concern, but neither spake. What
could they do to assist the unhappy mariners, and the delay of one hour
might be death to themselves.
‘Shall we go Margaret?’ Michael at length broke the silence by saying.
‘Can we help those poor creatures?’ she asked.
‘We cannot do anything to save the ship,’ he replied, ‘but we may
perhaps be of some service should any of the people be thrown upon the
strand.’
‘Then we will stop awhile, and trust to God’s protecting care,’ she
nobly rejoined; and as she spoke, she laid down the little bundle of
clothes which she had hastily put together, intending to carry with
them.
Michael now ran to the front window of the cottage, with the idea of
getting a view of the vessel in distress, but he only reached the spot
in time to see her go down. The wind had driven her with violence
against a rock, which had made a large opening in her keel, through
which the water rushed so fast, that all attempts to check it proved
vain, and she sunk almost instantly to the bottom.
‘All are lost!’ exclaimed Margaret, who had followed her husband, and
was now standing behind him with her hands clasped together, and her
eyes raised toward heaven in an attitude of prayer.
‘Nay, dear Madgy, it is possible that some poor creature may be drifted
on the shore,’ cried Michael; ‘I will at all events go and see.’
Margaret’s heart quailed with fear, lest her husband’s life should fall
a sacrifice to his humanity; but she could not oppose his generous
resolve, so she suffered him to go without a word of remonstrance.
As soon as he left the door, she fell on her knees and prayed that he
might be protected in his perilous enterprise.
She arose in a more composed state of mind, and then sat down to
await her husband’s return. Her patience was not long tried, he came
in shortly after, bearing in his arms a wicker-basket bound up in a
sheet of oil-cloth. The poor woman’s first words were an exclamation of
thankfulness for his safe return; she next eagerly inquired what he had
brought with him.
‘I have brought thee a child, Madgy, what say you to that?’ cried the
fisherman looking at her with a smile.
[Illustration]
‘A child!’ she repeated.
‘Yes, a brave boy. I found him in one of the holes in the rock.’
‘Is he alive?’ asked Margaret, drawing back the oil-cloth that she
might get a sight of the babe.
‘Alive, yes; the urchin seemed to be quite enjoying his new home.’
‘Don’t jest, dear Michael,’ cried Margaret; ‘the mother of this poor
little creature has most likely found a watery grave.’
‘True, but you will be a mother to him, won’t you?’
‘Aye, that I will,’ responded the kind-hearted woman, catching the
child in her arms, and folding him to her bosom. ‘Aye, that I will,
Miche, I’ll carry him myself, if you will take the baggage. But is this
poor babe the only creature who has escaped?’
‘I have reason to believe so,’ returned the fisherman; ‘but I could not
remain longer on the shore, the water flowed in so fast. We must haste
now, dear Madgy, or we shall be too late.’
Margaret wanted not a second bidding, but after having hastily wrapped
the babe in a bear’s skin, she and her husband quitted the hut.