Having determined to build a vessel, we set to work with great energy;
and we hoped by ingenuity and perseverance to make amends for our want
of skill and knowledge.
Our first task was to break up the wreck, and to convey it piecemeal to
the bay; and in this work we were ably assisted by the Esquimaux, who
understood that whatever portion we did not require was to be their
perquisite. They also shrewdly suspected that we should leave them, if
we went away, many of the other treasures we had in our possession. I
believe, however, that they really had formed a sincere regard for us,
and were sorry to find that we were about to depart; at the same time
that they consoled themselves, as more civilised people are apt to do
under similar circumstances, with the reflection that we should leave
something behind us.
We first had to carry to our store the remainder of the salted
provisions; which, had they been left a single night on board after the
hatches were removed, the bears would inevitably have got hold of. We
then carried off such part of the deck as we required, with some of the
timbers and planks.
As we could not get at the keel, we were obliged to content ourselves
with the mainmast, to serve as a keel for our new vessel. We laid her
down close to the beach just above high-water mark, with a
carriage-sledge under her, so as to be able to launch her over the ice.
Our intention was to make her a vessel of about sixteen to twenty tons,
which was as large as our materials would allow, and to rig her as a
schooner for the same reason, and because she would thus be more easily
handled.
After much discussion as to the ways and means, we laid down the keel
and set up the stem and stern. We next commenced on the ribs, which
puzzled us much more to shape them, so as to make the sides of the form
we wished, and one side to correspond with the other. However, there is
an old saying, that "Where there's a will there's a way;" and though not
always true, it was so in our case, though we expended six times as much
labour and time as we should have done had there been a good carpenter
among us to superintend our work. We were unwearied in our labours; we
worked all day, and a great part of the night too, for we all felt that
on getting it done in time depended our escape from those icy regions
that year.
I have described our imprisonment as passed more pleasantly than we
could have expected; but yet none of us desired to spend another winter
in the same way, and most of us had some friends or relations whom we
wished again to see, and to relieve from the anxiety they must be
feeling on our account.
We should have worked on Sundays, but Andrew Thompson urged us to
desist. Some of the men answered that we were working in a good cause,
as we should the sooner be able to return home.
"It is the Lord's day, and He says we shall not work on it," answered
Andrew. "Therefore it is wrong to work on it; and depend upon it He
never intends us to do wrong that good may come of it. We are building
a vessel, which we think may be the means of saving us; but He may have
arranged differently, and after all our labour it might prove our
destruction."
Terence, Tom, and I at once said we would follow Andrew's advice; and
one or two of the others added that they were not going to work for us
if we chose to be idle, so the Sabbath became a day of rest. The
Esquimaux wondered when they observed this, and inquired why every
seventh day we desisted from work, though so anxious to get our ship
built.
Andrew then explained to them that we were commanded to do so by the God
we worshipped, and that if we disobeyed His laws He would be angry with
us, and that we could not expect to prosper.
Our knowledge of their language was unfortunately far too imperfect to
enable us to impart any of the great tenets of Christianity to them; but
I do believe that this reply, and the exhibition of obedience to the
commands of a Being whom none of us saw, yet willingly obeyed, opened
their minds, more than any sermon could have done, to receive those
truths whenever they may be offered to them.
Many a time in their snow tents will those untutored savages, during the
long night of winter, talk of the God of the Kabbinae (the Europeans),
and worship Him unknowingly in His works. They are people of inquiring
minds, very capable of receiving instruction; and from their habits and
dispositions, I feel assured that were the great light of the gospel
placed before them, they would gladly receive its truths, and be brought
into Christ's flock of true believers.
Should there be no other result from the gallant attempts making to
discover a north-west passage round the continent of America, than that
by those means people have become acquainted with the condition of vast
tribes hitherto little known, and thereby it has been put into the
hearts of some of Christ's true soldiers to carry His gospel among them,
glorious indeed it will be.
Who can say that the finger of God has not directed our brave countrymen
to those regions for that very purpose, although they themselves are
ignorant of the influence which impels them; and that, it having been
shown how easily the rigours of an arctic winter may be withstood, ere
long missionaries may be on their way to reside among the northern, as
Christian men have for long resided among the southern, tribes of
Esquimaux for the same holy purpose?
We got on very briskly with our vessel. She was not very sightly,
certainly, but we thought she would be strong, which was of more
importance. After much discussion we determined to give her a round
stern, as more likely to withstand a blow from the ice. Her floors were
very flat, which was very much owing to the shape of the timbers, which
we could not alter; but this was not a fault, as she would better have
borne being thrown on the ice.
When we came to planking her, we found great difficulty in making the
planks fit the ribs, as any one conversant with shipbuilding may
suppose; and we had to fill up under the planks in many places, to
secure them to the timbers. We resolved that she should be very strong;
so we almost filled her with beams, and double-planked her over after
having caulked the first planking.
We had less difficulty in laying down the deck; but for the size of the
vessel it was very thick and not very even. Provided, however, it was
water-tight, we cared nothing for other defects.
We built up some strong high bulwarks, not forgetting to leave ports of
good size to let the water run off should a sea break on board us. We
got two spars from the lower yards of the ship which served for masts,
and set them up with shrouds, though, as most of the rigging of the ship
was rotten, we had some difficulty in finding a sufficient quantity.
We rigged her with a fore and aft mainsail and fore-sail, and a square
topsail and a fore staysail and jib, the bowsprit steeping up very much,
so that when she pitched there might be less chance of its being carried
away.
It is not an easy job to cut out a sail well, though there appears to be
no difficulty in it; and I must own that ours did not look very well
when we first set them, but by alterations, and making several patches,
we got them to stand fairly at last.
We were prudent and made two suits, besides keeping a supply of canvas
among our stores.
Our yards and gaffs were somewhat heavy, as we had no proper-sized spars
to make them from. We found a good supply of rope on board the ship,
from which we fitted our running rigging. At last we had a vessel of
some twenty to five-and-twenty tons, in all appearance ready for sea.
The last and not the least important task was to select the stores and
provisions we should require, and to make the casks to hold the water
tight. Had we had carpenter or blacksmith among us, much of our labour
might have been spared; but it must be remembered that we had only a few
tools, to the use of which none of us were accustomed, and that nearly
every nail we employed we had to draw from the planks and to straighten.
By the end of August our task was accomplished, and it was with no
little satisfaction that we walked round and round our vessel to survey
our work.
The next thing to be done was to move her over the ice to the centre of
the bay, where about two miles off there was open water. When once we
could get the cradle on which she rested on the ice, we thought our task
would be easy; but to set it going was the difficulty. We tried every
means we could think of, but the heavy mass would not move.
An ordinary-built vessel of fifteen tons could not have weighed a third
of what ours did. At last we bethought ourselves of cutting away the
ground under the cradle, and of placing slips of ice for it to run on.
With infinite trouble and no little risk we succeeded in doing this. We
gave a shout of joy as we saw our craft moving towards the ice. She
glided slowly at first, but her speed increased. She dashed on; and
before she reached the ice, while yet on the beach, the cradle gave way,
and with a loud crash she fell over on her side. We were in despair,
and some gave vent to their feelings in expressions of bitter complaint.
We might shore her up, and afterwards cut a channel for her through the
ice, if she had escaped injury; but it would be a work of time, and the
season for proceeding to the south might be lost.
Most of the Esquimaux had gone away to catch salmon, and on hunting
expeditions, but a few remained; and though they expressed great regret
at our misfortune, they seemed glad that we had less chance of leaving
them.
Andrew was the only one among us who was calm. "Come, my lads," he
said, "there's no use looking at what's happened without trying to set
matters to rights again. If we stand here all day without putting our
hand to the work, we shall not get the craft on an even keel."
His taunting words aroused us to exertion; and it was proposed to get
the vessel up by driving wedges of ice under her bilge, and since the
cradle could be of no further use, to build a way for her to the water,
or to where the ice might be thin enough to allow us to break it, so as
to form a channel for her to float through.
We laboured away very hard; but our want of scientific knowledge made us
despair of accomplishing the task. The first day we did nothing--the
next we set to work again, but performed little of the proposed work.
"It's of no use, I see," grumbled David. "We may as well make up our
minds to spend the rest of our days here."
While he was speaking, and all hands were standing doing nothing, I
happened to turn my eyes to the northward, and there I saw what appeared
to me a high land, covered with towers, and houses, and church-steeples,
with trees and rocks on either side. Under the land, however, appeared
a thin line of water, and dividing it a broad gap, as it were the mouth
of some wide river or fiord; but what most attracted my attention was an
inverted ship, which appeared above it under all sail.
I at once guessed that this extraordinary appearance was caused by
refraction; but the figure of the ship puzzled me. It was so perfect in
every respect, that I was convinced that it could not be an ocular
illusion, and that there must be some real ship, and that this was her
reflection in the clouds. I pointed her out to my companions; and when
they saw that all the objects were continually changing and that she
remained the same, they were of the same opinion. We therefore resolved
to watch, and to get the boat ready to shove off to her should a ship
appear; at the same time the great uncertainty of what might really be
the case prevented us from feeling any exuberance of joy. It was
already late in the day, but none of us could sleep, so eager were we to
keep a look-out for the strange ship.
Hour after hour passed away, and still no vessel appeared to relieve our
anxiety. Some of the men at length grew weary of watching, and threw
themselves on their beds to sleep.
"It was, after all, to my mind but a fancy," exclaimed Terence, entering
the hut with a discontented air. "The figure we saw in the sky was very
like a ship, I own; but still I'd bet anything it was no ship at all."
Andrew and I still held that it was a ship.
"Come, mates," said David, who had been looking out as eagerly as any of
us; "I've sailed these seas man and boy, thirty years and more, and so
I've a right to have my say. Now I've often seen just such a sight as
we saw yester-even; sometimes we fell in with the ship we saw up in the
clouds like, and other times we looked for her and she never appeared,
so we supposed that it must have been an iceberg in the figure of a ship
which we had seen. Therefore what I say is, that what we saw may be a
ship. But if she was a ship, then she ought to have been off here by
this time; but if it was an iceberg, then there's no use troubling our
heads about it."
David having thus authoritatively delivered his opinion, walked into the
hut and threw himself on his bed, thereby proving that he considered the
appearance we had seen merely the reflection of an iceberg.
I, however, still held to my first opinion, that a real ship alone could
have created a figure so perfect in the clouds. Then it must be
remembered that I had seen it first, and that the appearance may have
somewhat altered before the attention of the rest was called to it. I,
however, was so far biassed by David's opinions, that I went and threw
myself on my bed. I slept, but it was very lightly; and all the time I
fancied that ships were gliding before me, and that their crews were
beckoning me to come on board.
At last, so strong was the impression on my mind, than I got up and went
to our look-out place on the top of the nearest hill. Great, alas! was
my disappointment, when the same dreary expanse of ice and water met my
eye, without a sail anywhere to be seen.
One thing struck me, that the whole surface of the sea was as calm and
unruffled as the intervening ice, and that no breath of air was stirring
in the heavens. The sun rose as I watched, gilding the pinnacles of the
icebergs, which still remained fixed in the bay, casting a silvery hue
over the masses of snow yet unmelted on the hills, and making stronger
than ever the contrast between the pure white of the snow-covered ice,
and the deep blue of the tranquil ocean.
"At all events," I thought, "no ship can approach us from any quarter
unless a breeze should spring up, and till then I may rest in peace."
So I again turned in, and slept as soundly as I had ever done in my
life.
I was aroused by my companions, who summoned me to come and assist them
in launching our vessel. We all set to work again with a will, and
after infinite labour we got her once more shored up; but to drive her
towards the element on which we intended her to float, was another
affair.
At last we thought that we had succeeded. If we could but move her a
few more feet she would be on the ice. Once more she glided on; but on
reaching the ice the impetus she acquired was so great that the shores
gave way, and with greater force than before she fell over on her side,
and in spite of the stout timbers and thick planking, from the
imperfection of our workmanship she was fairly bilged.
We were most of us differently affected. Some gave way to despair, and
uttered imprecations on their ill-luck, as they called it--others
actually wept with grief--while Andrew looked on with calm composure.
"Mates," he said, turning to those who were loudest in their impious
expressions of discontent, "I have always said that everything happens
for the best; and in this case, depend upon it, we shall find it so.
From the damage our vessel has suffered from the slight shock she
received, it is clear she could not for a moment have withstood a common
nip; and let me ask you, is it not better to remain here even for
another year till a ship takes us off, than to be thrown on a sudden on
a floe, with only our whale-boat to preserve us, and perhaps without
time to save our clothes or provisions? Let us, rather than be
discontented, believe that God, in this as in everything else, has
ordered all for our good."
The calm confident tone in which Andrew spoke had a great effect on his
hearers, and not another word of complaint was uttered. While we were
at work, we had not noticed that a breeze had sprung up. One by one we
were retiring to our hut, when on looking seaward I observed that the
whole surface of the ocean was broken into crisp waves; and glancing my
eyes to the northward, there I beheld what no seaman could doubt for a
moment were the topgallant-sails of a large ship.
I rushed into the hut where my companions were sitting, most of them
with their heads sunk between their knees, brooding on our misfortune,
except Andrew, who stood with his arms folded, meditating on our future
plans, and asking assistance whence alone assistance could be given.
"A sail! a sail!" I exclaimed. My voice aroused them from their
lethargy. They looked at my countenance, and seeing that I was in
earnest, like madmen they rushed from the hut. Every eye was turned
towards the point I indicated. There, sure enough, was the sail I had
seen; and without waiting to secure any provisions, we hurried down
towards the boat, but Andrew called us back.
"We should not go empty-handed, mates, among our new friends, nor quit
those who have treated us so hospitably without a word of farewell," he
exclaimed. "There is yet time enough to do what we should do, and to
pull out into the offing before the ship is off here."
Ashamed by his mild reproof, we went to the tents of our Esquimaux
friends, who still remained near us; and explaining that a ship, by
which we hoped to return to our country, was in sight, we bade them
understand that if we did not return, all the property we left behind
was to be theirs. We saw tears falling from their eyes as they wrung
our hands when we stepped into the boat, which they assisted us to
launch over the ice.
We had loaded her with as large a supply of provisions as she could
carry, and with our guns and the little ammunition which remained. Once
in the boat, we gave way with a will, and pulled boldly out to sea, with
our jack at the end of a spar of three times the usual length.
On came the stranger. O how our hearts beat as we saw her hull rising
out of the water!
On we pulled, so as to place ourselves directly in her course, that
there might not be a possibility of her missing us. Various were the
conjectures as to what nation she belonged; for it was soon seen she was
not English by the cut of her sails, and as she drew nearer, by her
build. Some said Danish, others Dutch, and others French.
The last proved right; for, as we got within hailing distance, once more
the voices of civilised men struck our ears. We could not understand
the question put to us; but when we sung out that we were Englishmen,
who had lost our ship, a voice in our own tongue told us to come on
board. With joyful hearts we pulled alongside, and found ourselves on
board the _Saint Jean_, whaler, belonging to the port of Bordeaux.
The cargo of our boat, as Andrew had supposed, was not unwelcome, and
secured us a warmer reception than we perhaps might otherwise have
experienced. The _Saint Jean_ was nearly full, and was one of the few
ships which had that year succeeded in reaching Pond's Bay; so the
second mate, who spoke English, informed us. Most of them, afraid of
the early setting in of the winter, had already gone to the south, and
must have passed out of sight of land. Thus, had we not seen the ship,
we should probably have had to pass another winter in the arctic
regions.
I will not stop to describe our voyage to the south. It was in some
respects favourable for the greater part of the distance; but the crew
were in a sickly state, and our services were therefore of much value.
The captain and first mate both fell ill; and I have reason to suspect
that our reckoning was not kept with proper accuracy. Six weeks had
passed since we had got on board, when a heavy gale sprung up from the
north-west. As the night drew on it increased in fury, though, as we
had got everything snug on board, we hoped to weather it out.
It was the opinion of the mates, for the master was too ill to attend to
his duty, that we were well to the southward and west, and that we might
keep away for our port. Instead, therefore, of laying to, we ran on
before it. The weather was very thick, and we could scarcely see a
hundred yards ahead.
Day was just breaking, and we Englishmen were all on deck together, from
being placed in the same watch under the second mate, when Terence, who
was forward, sung out with a startling voice--
"Land right ahead, land on the starboard bow!"
The Frenchmen understood the cry--all hands sprang on deck. The mate
ordered the helm to be put a-port and the yards to be braced up, in the
hopes of being able to beat off. It was too late; we were completely
embayed. Land appeared broad on either bow.
To have beaten off with less sail than we carried would have been
hopeless; but still there was more than the ship could carry. The masts
went by the board. Fortunately the mizzen-mast went first, followed by
the main-mast, or the ship would have broached to, and every soul of us
would have been swept from her decks. Andrew sprang aft and put the
helm up again, calling on me to assist him; while the rest ran forward,
to look out for a clear beach to run the ship on, for by this time we
saw that we were too near to attempt to anchor with any chance of saving
the ship.
In moments of sudden peril the French are apt to lose command over
themselves; at all events, such was the case in the present instance.
And yet these men had gone through all the dangers of an arctic voyage;
but then they were dangers for which they were looking out. Even now
they were brave--that is to say, I do not think they turned paler than
any of us; but they ran here and there, not knowing what to do nor
comprehending the orders of their officers, while we were cool and did
our best to save ourselves.
We kept the helm a-starboard, and steered to a spot where there appeared
to be less surf; but it was a fearful choice of evils. In two or three
minutes the ship struck; it must have been on a rock, for she trembled
throughout, and the foremast went by the board. All hands had run aft,
knowing what must occur. Again she lifted and flew forwards several
yards, but it was to strike with more violence; and the following sea,
before most of us could secure our hold, came rushing furiously on
board, and sweeping everything before it.
I found myself lifted off my feet, and whirled round among the foaming
billows. I knew nothing more till I felt my arm grasped at by some one;
and when I returned to consciousness I was on the beach uninjured, with
Andrew leaning over me.
I asked for our companions; he shook his head sorrowfully. Three of
them were missing--poor Tom and two others. Nearly all the Frenchmen
were lost. We two, Terence, David, and the two others, and six
Frenchmen, were the only ones who had escaped. Before the ship struck
we had instinctively thrown off our shoes and the greater part of our
clothing, so that we had nothing on but our shirts and trousers; and as
none of the bodies of our unfortunate shipmates nor any clothes were
washed on shore, we had no means of supplying ourselves.
We suspected that we had been cast away on the west coast of Ireland;
and we found, on inquiry of some people who flocked down to the shore,
that we were not wrong. I am sorry to say, that so eager were they in
hunting for whatever might come on shore, that they seemed little
disposed to afford us any assistance. The Frenchmen were anxious at
once to proceed to Dublin, where they might get relief from their
consul; and Andrew and the rest wished to go there also, to cross over
to England or Scotland, and Terence because he belonged to that city.
I, however, was eager to return home direct. The yearning to see my
parents and brothers and sisters again was stronger than I could repress
I felt sure, also, that Captain Dean and Mary, to whom I had given my
father's address, would have communicated with him, and that I should
receive some news of them.
With sincere regret I parted from that excellent man, Andrew Thompson,
and with not much less from Terence and the rest; but the two first
promised to write to me as soon as they got to their homes.
I set off alone, and a stranger, without shoes, hat, or jacket, to beg
my way across Ireland. Some disbelieved the tale I told of my
disasters, and turned me from their doors; but others gave me bread and
meat, and the poorest never refused me a potato and a drink of milk, for
their eyes, accustomed to real misery, could discern that I spoke the
truth.
At length, just after dark, I reached the well-known gate of my father's
grounds. I walked through, and with knees knocking together from
over-excited feelings I approached the house. I looked up at the
windows--not a light was to be seen, nor a sound heard. My heart sunk
within me; I feared something must have happened--what, I dared not ask
myself. I sat down on the steps, fearful of inquiring.
At length I gained courage to ring the door-bell. It was answered by a
loud barking of dogs from within, but no sound of a human voice. Again
I rang, and after waiting some time, in my impatience I began to knock
fiercely with my fists. I stopped, for I heard a window opening, and a
voice inquiring from above what I wanted. It was old Molly Finn, the
housekeeper. I recognised her in a moment. I told her who I was, and
entreated her to tell me where my family were gone.
"Och, ye idle spalpeen, get along with ye, with your lying tales about
being Master Peter, who has been dead these two long years or more," she
exclaimed, in a voice of anger. "Get along with ye, I say, or I'll let
the dogs out on ye."
"If you mean to let Juno and Pluto slip, you are welcome," I answered,
my anger beginning to rise. "They'll at least know me, and that's more
than you seem inclined to do, Molly."
"Just come nearer here, and let me ax ye a few questions, whoever ye
are," she said, in a softer tone.
"Tell me first, Molly, where are my father and mother, and brothers and
sisters--are they all alive and well?" I exclaimed.
"Well, then, there's no harm in telling ye thus much; they are all well,
and gone to Dublin for Miss Fanny's marriage there to a fine gentleman
who's worthy of her. And now, what have ye got to say?"
"Thank Heaven!" I exclaimed, and burst into tears, and sobbed till my
heart was like to break. It was the giving way to affections long long
pent up, like the icy ocean in winter; within my bosom.
"Och, it must be Master Peter, whether dead or alive!" exclaimed the old
woman, disappearing from the window.
I had some notion that bars and bolts were being withdrawn, and in
another instant a lantern was flashed in my face. It was instantly
thrown down, and I found myself hugged in the dear old creature's arms,
and several of my old four-footed favourites leaping up and licking my
face, she coming in for some share of the said licking, and thinking it
was me all the time returning her kisses.
Tim, the stable-helper, the only other person left on the premises, was
now roused up from his early slumbers, and added his congratulations to
Molly's. We went inside the house and shut the door, and I rushed round
to every room before I could sit down to eat. As may be supposed, there
was no great supply of delicacies in the house; but there were potatoes
and buttermilk, and bacon and eggs, and what wanted I more?
Molly had actually cooked my supper, and talked of making my bed, before
she discovered how badly I was clothed. As for the bed, I begged she
would not trouble herself, as I assured her I should have the greatest
difficulty in sleeping in one, and I at last persuaded her to let me
have a mattress and a blanket on the floor. I did however, contrive to
sleep, and awoke to find old Molly sitting by my side.
"Och, the dear boy, there's no doubt of ye now, Master Peter!" she
exclaimed. "Ye talked of them all in your sleep, and looked just like
yourself, ye did; and I'll stand bail that no one but ye could have done
that same."
I got a piece of soap from Molly, and going to a tank there was in the
yard under the pump, by Tim's aid I soon made myself cleaner than I had
been for a long time; but we had a sad puzzle about the clothes, for my
father and brother had left none. Tim had only those he wore on his
back and a coarse suit; and money, I found, was scarce with Molly.
After hunting about in every direction, she routed out from an old chest
some, with which she came to me in great triumph, saying they were my
own; and so I found they were, but they were some I had thrown aside as
being far too small before I went to sea. At last I bethought me, that
as no money was to be had without much inconveniencing Molly, I would
continue my journey as I had begun it; and I would present myself to my
family as I was, in the character of a seaman who had known the lost
Peter, and had brought some tidings of him, thus breaking gradually to
my parents the fact that I was still in existence.
I proposed, however, disguising myself somewhat to prevent their
recognising me. Molly liked my plan; so filling a bag with food, and
borrowing ten shillings from her to help me on my way with greater speed
than I could otherwise have made, I immediately started on the road to
Dublin. Travelling sometimes on a car, sometimes in a waggon, where I
contrived to get some sound sleep, and oftentimes on foot, in three days
I reached the capital of Ireland.
Beggars in rags excite no remark in any part of Ireland; so, scantily
clothed and careworn as I was, I passed through the streets unobserved.
I was on my way to the house my family had taken, when I observed,
walking leisurely along, a person whose figure and gait I felt certain I
knew. My heart beat with eagerness. For some time I could not catch a
glimpse of his face; so I ran on, and passing him, turned back to meet
him. I was not mistaken--it was my kind friend Captain Dean.
My heart beating violently, I walked up to him, and said, calmly enough,
"I have sailed with you, Captain Dean; but I don't suppose you remember
me, sir."
"No, indeed I do not; though I am not apt to forget those who have been
any time with me," he replied, looking at me very hard.
"It's a long time, sir; but perhaps you may remember a lad of the name
of Peter Lefroy, to whom you were very kind," I said, my voice faltering
as I spoke, for I was longing to inquire after Mary.
"I remember him well, poor lad. He was lost with a whole ship's company
in the North Sea, upwards of a year ago. But what do you know of him?"
he asked.
"Why, sir, I know that he was wonderfully preserved, and now stands
before you, Captain Dean," I exclaimed, no longer able to contain
myself. "And tell me, sir, oh tell me--Mary, where is Mary, sir?" I
blurted out, feeling that I could not speak again till I heard of her.
"Peter--Peter Lefroy, my good lad!" he ejaculated, seizing my hand and
gazing earnestly in my face. "It is you yourself I ought to have known
you at once; and Mary--she would know you--she is well, and with your
own sisters, for she is to be one of Miss Fanny's bridesmaids. But come
along, this will be a day of rejoicing."
Captain Dean, on our way to the house where my family was living, to
which he was bound when I stopped him, told me that he had some time
back communicated with my father; and that a month ago, having made a
voyage to Liverpool, where he was obliged to have his ship repaired, he
had come over to Dublin with Mary to show her something of Ireland. He
had accidentally met my father, and introducing himself to him, all my
family had shown him and Mary the greatest kindness; and he added that
my sisters had formed a warm friendship for her.
My heart beat when I heard this; but I did not trust myself to say
anything. "And now, Peter," said Captain Dean, as we reached the door,
"I will go in and break the joyful news to all hands."
What a tumult was in my heart, as for ten minutes I walked up and down
before the house, waiting to be summoned! At length Captain Dean opened
the door, and beckoning to me, pulled me in. "They all suspect the
truth," he observed. "But I would not tell them till I had got you all
ready to show; so now I'll go back and tell them I have brought a lad
who will let them know all about the long-lost Peter."
They heard him speak, and guessing what was the case, they came flying
down the stairs; and before I had got through the half, I was once more
in the loving arms of my truest and best friends. Even my mother did
not faint, though she sobbed aloud for very joy that her truant son had
returned.
One sweet little girl hung back from the eager crowd. I espied her, and
breaking through them, she received a not less affectionate greeting
than had my sisters.
With my subsequent life I need not trouble my readers.
"Well, Peter," said my father, after I had been washed and clothed, and
had put on once more the appearance of a gentleman, "you have come back,
my lad, poorer than you went away, I fear." He made this remark with
the kind intention of filling a purse my sisters and Mary had given me.
"No, father," I answered, "I have come back infinitely richer. I have
learned to fear God, to worship Him in His works, and to trust to His
infinite mercy. I have also learned to know myself, and to take advice
and counsel from my superiors in wisdom and goodness."
"Then," said my father, "I am indeed content; and I trust others may
take a needful lesson from the adventures of PETER THE WHALER."