When Ready arrived, he found them all plunged in such deep distress, that he did not consider it advisable to say anything. The evening closed in; it was time to retire. The countenance of Mr. Seagrave was not only gloomy, but morose. The hour for retiring to rest had long passed when Ready broke the silence by saying, "Surely, you do not intend to sit up all night, Mr. Seagrave?"
"Oh, no! there's no use sitting up now," replied Mr. Seagrave, rising up impatiently. "Come, my dear, let us go to bed."
Mrs. Seagrave rose, and retired behind the canvas screen. Her husband seemed as if he was about to follow her, when Ready, without speaking, laid the Bible on the table before him. Mr. Seagrave did not appear to notice it; but William touched his father's arm, pointed to the book, and then went inside of the screen, and led out his mother.
"God forgive me!" exclaimed Mr. Seagrave. "In my selfishness and discontent I had forgotten--"
"Yes, sir, you had forgotten those words, `Come unto me, all ye who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.'"
"I am ashamed of myself," said Mrs. Seagrave, bursting into tears.
Mr. Seagrave opened the Bible, and read the psalm. As soon as he had closed the book, "good night" were all the words that passed, and they all retired to rest.
During the night, the wind howled and the rain beat down. The children slept soundly, but Mr. and Mrs. Seagrave, Ready, and William were awake during the whole of the night, listening to the storm, and occupied with their own thoughts.
Ready was dressed before daylight, and out on the beach before the sun had risen. The gale was at its height; and after a careful survey with his telescope, he could see nothing of the vessel. He remained on the beach till breakfast-time, when he was summoned by William, and returned to the house. He found Mr. and Mrs. Seagrave up, and more composed than they were the evening before; and they welcomed him warmly.
"I fear, Ready," said Mr. Seagrave, "that you have no good news for us."
"No, sir; nor can you expect any good news until after the gale is over. The vessel could not remain here during the gale - that is certain; and there is no saying what the effects of the gale may be.
She may lie to, and not be far from us when the gale is over; or she may be obliged to scud before the gale, and run some hundred miles from us. Then comes the next chance. I think, by her running for the island, that she was short of water; the question is, then, whether she may not find it necessary to run for the port she is bound to, or water at some other place. A captain of a vessel is bound to do his best for the owners. At the same time I do think, that if she can with propriety come back for us she will. The question is, first, whether she can; and, secondly, whether the captain is a humane man, and will do so at his own inconvenience."
"There is but poor comfort in all that," replied Mr. Seagrave.
"It is useless holding out false hopes, sir," replied Ready; "but even if the vessel continues her voyage, we have much to be thankful for."
"In what, Ready?"
"Why, sir, no one knew whether we were in existence or not, and probably we never should have been searched for; but now we have made it known, and by the ship's name on the flag they know who we are, and, if they arrive safe in port, will not fail to communicate the intelligence to your friends. Is not that a great deal to be thankful for? We may not be taken off by this vessel, but we have every hope that another will be sent out to us."
"Very true, Ready; I ought to have seen that before; but my despair and disappointment were yesterday so great, that it almost took away my reason."
The gale continued during the day, and showed no symptoms of abatement, when they again retired for the night. The following day Ready was up early, as usual, and William accompanied him to the beach.
"I don't think that it blows so hard as it did, Ready."
"No, William, it does not; the gale is breaking, and by night, I have no doubt, will be over. It is, however, useless looking for the vessel, as she must be a long way from this. It would take her a week, perhaps, to come back to us if she was to try to do so, unless the wind should change to the northward or westward."
"Ready! Ready!" exclaimed William, pointing to the south-east part of the reef; "what is that? Look! it's a boat."
Ready put his telescope to his eye. "It's a canoe, William, and there are people in it."
"Why, where can they have come from? See! they are among the breakers; they will be lost. Let us go towards them, Ready."
They hastened along the beach to the spot nearest to where the canoe was tossing on the surf, and watched it as it approached the shore.
"William, this canoe must have been blown off from the large island, which lies out there;" and Ready again looked through his telescope:
"there are two people in it, and they are islanders. Poor things! they struggle hard for their lives, and seem much exhausted; but they have passed through the most dangerous part of the reef."
"Yes," replied William, "they will soon be in smoother water; but the surf on the beach is very heavy."
"They won't mind that, if their strength don't fail them - they manage the canoe beautifully."
During this conversation the canoe had rapidly come towards the land.
In a moment or two afterwards, it passed through the surf and grounded on the beach. The two people in it had just strength enough left to paddle through the surf, and then they dropped down in the bottom of the canoe, quite exhausted.
"Let's drag the canoe higher up, William. Poor creatures! they are nearly dead."
While dragging it up, Ready observed that the occupants were both women: their faces were tattooed all over; otherwise they were young, and might have been good-looking.
"Shall I run up and get something for them, Ready?"
"Do, William; ask Juno to give you some of whatever there is for breakfast; anything warm."
