to be called away early; and that it is selfish in parents to repine.”
“Perhaps it is,” replied Mr. Seagrave, looking mournfully at his children.
“It’s twelve o’clock, sir. I’ll just go down and work the latitude, and then I’ll bring up the chart.”
Mr. Seagrave remained on deck. He was soon in deep and solemn thought; nor was it to be wondered at—the ship a wreck and deserted—left alone on the wide water with his wife and helpless family, with but one to assist him: had that one deserted as well as the rest, what would have been his position then? Utter helplessness! And now what had they to expect? Their greatest hopes were to gain some island, and, if they succeeded, perhaps a desert island, perhaps an island inhabited by savages—to be murdered, or to perish miserably of hunger and thirst. It was not until some time after these reflections had passed through his mind, that Mr. Seagrave could recall himself to a sense of thankfulness to the Almighty for having hitherto preserved them, or could say with humility, “O Lord! thy will, not mine, be done.” But, having once succeeded in repressing his murmurs, he then felt that he had courage and faith to undergo every trial which might be imposed upon him.
“Here is the chart, sir,” said Ready, “and I have drawn a pencil line through our latitude: you perceive that it passes through this cluster of islands; and I think we must be among them, or very near. Now I must put something on for dinner, and then look sharp out for the land. Will you take a look round, Mr. Seagrave, especially a-head and on the bows?”
Ready went down to see what he could procure for dinner, as the seamen, when they left the ship, had collected almost all which came first to hand. He soon procured a piece of salt beef and some potatoes, which he put into the saucepan, and then returned on deck.
Mr. Seagrave was forward, looking over the bows, and Ready went there to him.
“Ready, I think I see something, but I can hardly tell what it is: it appears to be in the air, and yet it is not clouds. Look there, where I point my finger.”
“You’re right, sir,” replied Ready, “there is something; it is not the land which you see, but it is the trees upon the land which are refracted, as they call it, so as to appear, as you say, as if they were in the air. That is an island, sir, depend upon it; but I will go down and get my glass.”
“It is the land, Mr. Seagrave,” said Ready, after examining it with his glass—“yes, it is so,” continued he, musing; “I wish that we had seen it earlier; and yet we must be thankful.”
“Why so, Ready?”
“Only, sir, as the ship forges so slowly through the water, I fear that we shall not reach it before dark, and I should have wished to have had daylight to have laid her nicely on it.”
“There is very little wind now.”
“Well, let us hope that there will be more,” replied Ready; “if not, we must do our best. But I must now go to the helm, for we must steer right for the island; it would not do to pass it, for, Mr. Seagrave, although the ship does not leak so much as she did, yet I must now tell you that I do not think that she could be kept more than twenty-four hours above water. I thought otherwise this morning when I sounded the well; but when I went down in the hold for the beef, I perceived that we were in more danger than I had any idea of; however, there is the land, and every chance of escape; so let us thank the Lord for all his mercies.”
“Amen!” replied Mr. Seagrave.
Ready went to the helm and steered a course for the land, which was not so far distant as he had imagined, for the island was very low: by degrees the wind freshened up, and they went faster through the water; and now, the trees, which had appeared as if in the air, joined on to the land, and they could make out that it was a low coral island covered with groves of cocoa-nuts. Occasionally Ready gave the helm up to Mr. Seagrave, and went forward to examine. When they were within three or four miles of it, Ready came back from the forecastle and said, “I think I see my way pretty clear, sir: you see we are to the windward of the island, and there is always deep water to the windward of these sort of isles, and reefs and shoals to leeward; we must, therefore, find some little cleft in the coral rock to dock her in, as it were, or she may fall back into deep water after she has taken the ground, for sometimes these islands run up like a wall, with forty or fifty fathom of water close to the weather-sides of them; but I see a spot where I think she may be put on shore with safety. You see those three cocoa-nut trees close together on the beach? Now, sir, I cannot well see them as I steer, so do you go forward, and if I am to steer more to the right, put out your right hand, and if to the left, the same with your left; and when the ship’s head is as it ought to be, then drop the hand which you have raised.”
“I understand, Ready,” replied Mr. Seagrave; who then went forward and directed the steering of the vessel as they neared the island. When they were within half a mile of it, the colour of the water changed, very much to the satisfaction of Ready, who knew that the weather-side of the island would not be so steep as was usually the case: still it was an agitating moment as they ran on to beach. They were now within a cable’s length, and still the ship did not ground; a little nearer, and there was a grating at her bottom—it was the breaking off of the coral-trees which grew below like forests under water—again she grated, and more harshly, then struck, and then again; at last she struck violently, as the swell lifted her further on, and then remained fast and quiet. Ready let go the helm to ascertain the position of the ship. He looked over the stern and around the ship, and found that she was firmly fixed, fore and aft, upon a bed of coral rocks.
Chapter Eight.
“All’s well so far, sir,” said Ready to Mr. Seagrave; “and now let us return thanks to Heaven.”
As they rose to their feet again, after giving thanks to the Almighty, William came up and said, “Father, my mother was awakened by the noise under the ship’s bottom, and is frightened—will you go down to her?”
“What is the matter, my dear—and where have you all been?” exclaimed Mrs. Seagrave, when her husband went down below. “I have been so frightened—I was in a sound sleep, and I was awakened with such a dreadful noise.”
“Be composed, my dear,” replied Mr. Seagrave; “we have been in great danger, and are now, I trust, in safety. Tell me, are you not better for your long sleep?”
“Yes, much better—much stronger; but do tell me what has happened.”
“Much took place, dearest, before you went to sleep, which was concealed from you; but now, as I expect we shall all go on shore in a short time—”
“Go on shore, my dear?”
“Yes, on shore. Now be calm, and hear what has happened, and how much we have reason to be grateful to Heaven.”
Mr. Seagrave then entered into a detail of all that had passed. Mrs. Seagrave heard him without reply; and when he had finished, she threw herself in his arms and wept bitterly. Mr. Seagrave remained with his wife, using all his efforts to console her, until Juno reappeared with the children, for it was now getting late; then he returned on deck.
“Well, sir,” said Ready, when Mr. Seagrave went up to him, “I have been looking well about me, and I think that we have great reason to be thankful. The ship is fast enough, and will not move
