So at the end of that evening they bade each other a cheerful good- night. And the next morning, when Ishmael had bid farewell to all the family, herself included, and was in the saddle, she sent him off with a brilliant smile and a joyous:

"Heaven bless you, Ishmael! I know you will enjoy the trip."

But when he had ridden away and disappeared down the path leading through the pine woods, Bee turned into the house, ran into her mother's chamber, threw herself into her mother's arms, and burst into a flood of tears.

It is the mother that always comes in for this sort of thing. Women spare men—sometimes; but never spare each other.

"My poor child! but it isn't far, you know!"

"Oh, mamma, such a long way! I never expected to be separated so far from Ishmael."

"My dear, steam annihilates distance. Only think, it is a voyage of but ten days."

"I know. Oh, it was very foolish in me to cry. Thank Heaven, Ishmael didn't see me," said Bee, wiping her eyes, and smiling through her wet eyelashes, like a sunbeam through the rain-sprinkled foliage.

Bee would scarcely have been flesh and blood if she had not indulged in this one hearty cry; but it was the last.

She left her mother's side and went about her household duties cheerfully, and very soon she was as happy as if Ishmael had not come and gone; happier, for she followed him in imagination over the ocean and sympathized in his delight.



CHAPTER XXIII.

HANNAH'S HAPPY PROGNOSTICS.

The morn is tip again, the dewy morn, With breath all incense and with cheek all bloom, Laughing the night away with playful scorn, Rejoicing as if earth contained no tomb And glowing into day. —Byron.



Ishmael had also keenly felt the parting with Beatrice. But accustomed to self-government, he did not permit his feelings to overcome him. And indeed his mind was too well balanced to be much disturbed by what he believed would be but a short separation from his betrothed.

He rode on gayly that pleasant winter morning, through the leafless woods, until he came to those cross-roads of which we have so often spoken.

Here he paused; for here it was necessary, finally, to decide a question that he had been debating with himself for the last two days.

And that was whether or not he should take the time to go to see Hannah and Reuben and bid them good-by, before proceeding on his long journey.

To go to Woodside he must take the road through Baymouth, which would carry him some miles out of the direct road to Washington, and consume several hours of that time of which every moment was now so precious. But to leave the country without saying farewell to the friends of his infancy was repugnant to every good feeling of his heart. He did not hesitate long. He turned his horse's head towards Baymouth and put him into a gallop. The horse was fresh, and Ishmael thought he would ride fast until he got to Woodside and then let the horse rest while he talked to Hannah.

He rode through Baymouth without drawing rein; only giving a rapid glance of recognition as he passed the broad show-window of Hamlin's bookstore, which used to be the wonder and delight of his destitute boyhood.

It was still early in the morning when he reached Woodside and rode up to the cottage gate. How bright and cheerful the cottage looked that splendid winter morning. The evergreen trees around it and the clusters of crimson rose-berries on the climbing rosevines over its porch, making quite a winter verdure and bloom against its white walls.

Ishmael dismounted, tied his horse, and entered the little gate. Hannah was standing on the step of the porch, holding a tin pan of chicken food in her hands, and feeding two pet bantams that she kept separate from the shanghais, which beat them cruelly whenever they got a chance.

On seeing Ishmael she dropped her pan of victuals and made a dash at him, exclaiming:

"Why, Ishmael! Good fathers alive! is this you? And where did you drop from?"

"From my saddle at your gate, last, Aunt Hannah," said Ishmael, smiling, as he folded her in his embrace.

"But I'm so glad to see you, Ishmael! And so surprised! Come in, my dear, dear boy. Shoo! you greedy, troublesome creeturs. You're never satisfied! I wish the shanghais would swallow you!" cried Hannah, speaking first to Ishmael as she cast her arms around his neck; and next to the bantams that had flown up to her shoulders.

"I am delighted to see you looking so hearty, ma'am. I declare you are growing quite stout," said Ishmael, affectionately surveying his relation.

"Women are apt to, at my age, Ishmael. But come in, my dear boy, come in!"

When they entered the cottage she drew Reuben's comfortable armchair up to the fire; and when Ishmael had seated himself she said:

"And now! first of all—have you had your breakfast?"

"Hours ago, thank you."

"Yes; a road-side tavern breakfast. I know what that is. Here, Sam! Sam! Lord, how I do miss Sally, to be sure!" complained Hannah, as she went to the back door and bawled after her factotum.

"Sit down and give yourself no trouble. I breakfasted famously at the Beacon."

"Oh!" exclaimed Hannah, with a little jealous twinge, "you've been there, have you? That accounts for everything. Well, I suppose it's natural. But when is that affair to come off, Ishmael?"

"If you mean my marriage with Miss Middleton, it will not take place until next autumn, Aunt Hannah, as I believe I have already told you."

"But haven't you been down there to coax the old man to shorten the time?"

"No, ma'am, but with a very different purpose."

"A different purpose? What was it? But, law, here I am keeping you talking in your greatcoat! Take it off at once, Ishmael, and be comfortable. And I will make Sam light a fire and carry some hot water in your room."

"No, ma'am, do not, please. Believe me it is unnecessary, and indeed quite useless. I have but half an hour to stay."

"But half an hour to stay with me! Do you mean to insult me, Ishmael Worth?" demanded Hannah wrathfully.

"Certainly not, dear Aunt Hannah," laughed Ishmael, "but I am going to leave the country, and so—"

"Going to—what?"

"I am going to leave the country quite suddenly, and that is the reason—"

"Ishmael Worth! have you robbed a bank or killed a man that you are going to run away from your native land?" exclaimed Hannah indignantly.

"Neither, ma'am," laughed Ishmael. "I go with Judge Merlin, on professional business—"

"Is that old man going to travel at his age?"

"Yes, because—"

"The more fool he!"

"He goes on very important business."

"Very important fiddle-stick's end! The great old baby is pining after his daughter. And he's just made up this excuse of business because he is ashamed to let people know the real reason—as well he may be! But why he should drag you along with him is more than I can guess."

"He thinks I can be of service to him, and I shall try."

"You'll try to ruin yourself, that's what you'll do!"

"Aunt Hannah, I have but a few minutes left. If you will permit me, I will just give my horse some water and go."

"Go! What, so suddenly? Lord, Lord, and Reuben away out in the field and the children with him! And you'll go away without taking a last farewell of them. I'll call Sam and send for them if you will wait a minute. Sam! Sam! Sam!" cried Hannah, going to the back door and screaming at the top of her voice.

But no Sam was forthcoming.

"Plague take that nigger! I do wish from the very bottom of my heart the deuce had him! Now, what shall I do?" she cried, returning to the room and dropping into her chair.

Fate answered the question by relieving her from her dilemma.

The front door opened and Reuben Gray entered, leading the two children and saying:

"It was too sharp for 'em out there, Hannah, my dear, especially as Molly, bless her, was a-sneezin' dreadful, as if she was a-catchin' a cold in her head; and so I fotch 'em in."

"Reuben, where's your eyes? Don't you see who is in the room? Here's Ishmael!" exclaimed Hannah irately.

"Ishmael! Why, so he is! Why, Lord bless you, boy. I'm so glad to see you!" exclaimed Reuben, with his honest face all in a glow of delight as he shook his guest's hands.

And at the same time the children let go their father's hand, and stood before the young man, waiting eagerly to be noticed.

"Yes, you better look at him! Look at him your fill now, You'll never see him again!" groaned Hannah.

"Never see who again? What are you talking about, Hannah, my dear?"

"Ishmael! He's come to bid a last good-by to us all. He's a-going to leave his native country! He's a-going to foreign parts!"

"Ishmael going to foreign parts!" exclaimed Reuben, gazing in surprise on his young guest.

"Yes, Uncle Reuben, I am going to England with Judge Merlin on business."

"Well, to be sure! that is a surprise! I knowed the judge was a- going to see his darter; but I had no idee that you was a-going 'long of him," said Reuben.

"When do you go? that is what I want to know," cried Hannah sharply.

"We sail in the 'Oceana' from Boston on Wednesday; and that is the reason, Aunt Hannah, why I am so hurried; you see I must reach Washington to-night so as to finish up my business there, and take the early train for the North on Tuesday morning."

"What? you going in one of them steamers? Oh, law!"

"What is the matter, ma'am?"

"I know the steamer'll burst its boiler, or catch afire, or sink, or something! I know it!"

"Lord, Hannah, don't dishearten people that-a-way! Why should the steamer do anything of the kind?" said Reuben, with a doubtful and troubled air.

"Because they are always and for everlasting a-doing of such things. Just think what happened to the 'Geyser'—burst her boiler and scalded everybody to death!"

"Law, Hannah! that was only one in a—"

"And the 'Vesuvius,'" fiercely continued Hannah; "the 'Vesuvius' caught on fire and burned down to the water's edge, and was so found—a floating charcoal, and every soul on board perished."

"Lord, Hannah, you're enough to make anybody's flesh creep. Surely that was only—"

"And then there was the 'Wave,' as struck St. George's bar and smashed all to pieces, and all on board were drowned!"

"Well, but, Hannah, you know—"

"And the 'Boreas,' that was lost in a gale. And the 'White Bear,' that was jammed to smash between two icebergs. And the 'Platina,' that sunk to the bottom with a clear sky and a smooth sea. Sunk to the bottom as if she had been so much lead. And the—"

"Goodness, gracious, me alive! And the Lord bless my soul, Hannah! You turn my very blood to water with your stories. Ishmael, don't you go!"

"Nonsense, Uncle Reuben! You know Aunt Hannah. She cannot help looking on the darkest side. When I was a boy, she was always prophesying I'd be hung, you know. Positively, sometimes she made me fear I might be," said Ishmael, smiling, and turning an affectionate glance upon his croaking relative.

"Yes, it's all very well for you to talk that way, Ishmael Worth. But I know one thing. I know I never heard of any sort of a ship going safe into port more than two or three times in the whole course of my life. And I have heard of many and many a shipwreck!" said Hannah, nodding her head, with the air of one who had just uttered a "knock-down" argument.

"Why, of course, Aunt Hannah. Because, in your remote country neighborhood you always hear of the wreck that happens once in a year or in two years; but you never hear of the thousands upon thousands of ships that are always making safe voyages."

"Oh, Ishmael, hush! It won't do. I'm not convinced. I don't expect ever to see you alive again."

"Law, Hannah, my dear, don't be so disbelieving. Really, now, you disencourage one."

"Hold your tongue, Reuben, you're a fool! I say it, and I stand to it, that steamer will either burst her boiler, or catch on fire, or sink, or something! And we shall never see our boy again."

Here little Molly, who had been attentively listening to the conversation, and, like the poor Desdemona, understood "a horror in the words," if not the words, opened her mouth and set up a howl that was immediately seconded by her brother.

It became necessary to soothe and quiet these youngsters; and Reuben lifted them both to his knees.

"Why, what's the matter with pappy's pets, then? What's all this about?" he inquired, tenderly stroking their heads.

"Cousin Ishmael is going away to be drownded! Boo-hoo-woo!" bawled Molly.

"And be burnt up, too! Ar-r-r-r-r-r-r!" roared Johnny.

"No, I am not going to be either one or the other," said the subject of all this interest cheerfully, as he took the children from Reuben and enthroned them on his own knees. "I am going abroad for a little while, and I will bring you ever so many pretty things when I come back."

They were reassured and stopped howling.

"How is your doll, Molly!"

"Her poor nose is broke."

"I thought so." Well, I will bring you a prettier and a larger doll, that can open and shut its mouth and cry."

"Oh-h!" exclaimed Molly, making great eyes in her surprise and delight.

"Now, what else shall I bring you, besides the new doll?"

"Another one."

"What, two dolls?"

"Yes."

"Well, what else?"

"Another one, too."

"Three dolls! goodness! but tell me what you would like beside the three dolls?"

"Some more dolls," persisted Molly, with her finger in her mouth.

"Whew! What would you like, Johnny?" inquired Ishmael, smiling on the little boy.

"I'd like a hatchet all of my own. I want one the worst kind of a way," said Johnny solemnly.

"Shall I bring him a little box of dwarf carpenter tools, Uncle Reuben?" inquired Ishmael doubtfully.

"Just as you please, Ishmael. He can't do much damage with them inside, because Hannah is always here to watch him; and he may hack and saw as much as he likes outside," said Reuben.

These points being settled, and the children not only soothed, but delighted, Ishmael put them off his knees and arose to depart.

He kissed the children, shook hands with Reuben and embraced Hannah, whose maternal tenderness caused her to restrain her emotions and forbear her croakings, lest she should frighten the children again.

When he got outside he found Sam standing by the horse, having just given him water, and being in the act of removing the empty bucket.

Ishmael shook hands with him also, got into the saddle, and, amid the fervent blessings of Reuben and Hannah, recommenced his journey.



CHAPTER XXIV.

THE JOURNEY.

Love, hope, and joy, fair pleasure's smiling train; Hate, fear, and grief, the family of pain; These mixed with art and to due bounds confined, Make and maintain the balance of the mind; The lights and shades whose well-accorded strife Give all the strength and color to our life —Pope.



Ishmael's ride up to the city was, upon the whole, as much enjoyed as the ride down had been. It is true that, in the first instance, he had been going to see Bee; and now he was coming away from her; but he had passed one whole day and two pleasant evenings in her society, and he could live a long time on the memory of that visit.

He soon struck into his old direct path, and calling at the same places where he had changed horses on his journey down, he re- changed them on his way up.

At Horsehead, where he stopped to take tea, he recovered his favourite brown horse Jack, which was in excellent condition and carried him swiftly the rest of the way to Washington.

It was ten o'clock when he drew rein at the door of his office, dismounted, and rang.

The professor opened the door.

"Well, Morris, all right here?" was Ishmael's cheerful greeting.

"All right, sir, now that you have come. We have been a little anxious within the last hour or two, sir; especially the judge, who is here."

"Judge Merlin here?"

"Yes, sir. He came over to wait for you. And the two young gentlemen are also here, sir. They came back after tea. I heard them say to the judge that they thought it quite likely you would have some last things to say to them to-night, and so they would wait."

"Quite right. Morris. Now take my horse around to the stables and then return as fast as you can," said Ishmael, as he passed the professor and entered the office.

The judge and the two young clerks occupied it.

The former was walking up and down the floor impatiently. The latter were seated at their desks.

The judge turned quickly to greet his young friend.

"Oh, Ishmael, I am so relieved that you have come at last. I have been very anxious for the last few hours."

"Why so, sir?" inquired Ishmael, as he shook hands with the old man. "Did you not know that I would be punctual when I gave you my word to that effect?"

"Oh, yes; but there are such things as accidents, you know, and an accident would have been very awkward on the eve of a voyage. And you are late, you are late, you see!"

"Yes," said Ishmael, as he passed on to speak to his young clerks and thank them for their thoughtfulness in waiting.

Then, while divesting himself of his greatcoat, he explained to the judge the cause of his short delay—the detour he had made to bid good-by to his old friends, Hannah and Reuben. By the time he had done this, and seated himself, the professor returned from the livery stables; but he only reported the safe delivery of the horse and then passed through the office into the house.

In a few minutes he returned, saying:

"Mr. Worth, the ladies bid me say that they had kept supper waiting for you, and they hope you will do them the favor to come in and partake of it, as it is your last evening at home for some time. And they will also be very much gratified if your friends will come and sup with you on this occasion."

"Will you come, judge? And you, too, gentlemen?" inquired Ishmael, turning to his companions, who all three bowed assent.

"Return to the ladies and say that I thank them very much for their kindness, and that we will come with pleasure," he said to the professor.

And then with a smile and a bow, and a request to be excused for a few minutes, Ishmael passed into his bedroom to make some little change in his toilet for the evening.

When he rejoined his friends they went into the supper-room, where they found an elegant and luxurious feast laid; and the two fair old ladies, in their soft, plain, gray mousseline dresses and delicate lace caps, waiting to do the honors. These maiden ladies, with their refinement, intelligence, and benevolence, had completely won the affections of Ishmael, who loved them with a filial reverence.

There was no one else present in the room except themselves and a waiter.

"My dear Mr. Worth," said the elder lady, approaching and taking his hand, "we hear that you are going to Europe. How sudden, and how we shall miss you! But we hope that you will have a pleasant time."

"Yes, indeed!" joined in her sister, coming up to shake hands; "we do so! and I am sure in church, yesterday, when we came to that part of the litany in which we pray for 'all who travel by land or by water,' I thought of you and bore you up on that prayer. And I shall continue to do it until you get back safe."

"And so shall I," added the elder.

"Thank you! thank you!" said Ishmael, fervently shaking both their hands. "I am sure if your good wishes and pious prayers can effect it, I shall have a pleasant and prosperous voyage."

"That you will," they simultaneously and cordially responded.

"And now permit me to introduce my friends: Judge Merlin, Mr. Smith, Mr. Jones."

The gentlemen bowed and the ladies courtesied, and they presently sat down to supper. The conversation turned on the projected voyage.

"Judge, you will have an unexpected fellow-passenger—an old friend," said Ishmael.

"Ah! who is he?" sighed the judge, who never spoke now without a sigh.

"Mr. Brudenell is going over in the 'Oceana.'"

"Indeed! What takes him over?"

"I do not know; unless it is the desire of seeing his mother and sisters. He did not tell me, and I did not ask him. In fact, we had so short a time together there was no opportunity."

"Oh! you have seen him? Where did you meet him? And where is he now?"

"I met him at the Beacon, en route for Washington. He left there this morning, to embark on the 'Errand Boy,' which expects to reach the city to-morrow, in time for the express train North."

"Ah! coming by the 'Errand Boy,' is he? That's a risk, under all the circumstances, for the 'Errand Boy' is sometimes three or four hours behind time. And if he should miss the early train to-morrow morning he can never be in time to meet the Boston steamer, that is certain. Why couldn't he have dashed up on horseback with you?"

"I fancy, sir, he was not strong enough to bear such a forced ride as I was obliged to undertake."

As it was eleven o'clock when they arose from the supper-table the judge almost immediately took his leave, having previously arranged with Ishmael to join him at his hotel the next morning, to proceed from there to the station.

The two young clerks remained longer, to go over certain documents with their employer, and receive his final instructions. When they had departed, Ishmael went into his bedroom, where he found the professor waiting for him.

"At last!" said the latter, as his master entered.

"What, Morris, you up yet? Do you know what time it is?" demanded Ishmael, in surprise.

"Yes, sir; it is two o'clock in the morning."

"Then you know you ought to have been in bed, hours ago."

"Law, Mr. Worth—I couldn't have slept, sir, if I had gone to bed. I'm rising sixty years old, but I am just as much excited over this voyage to England as if I was a boy of sixteen. To think I shall see St. Paul's Cathedral, sir! Aint the thought of that enough to keep a man's eyes open all night? And to think it is all through you, young Ish—Mr. Worth. If it wasn't for you, I might be vegetating on, in that cabin, in old St. Mary's, with no more chance of improving my mind than the cattle that browse around it. God bless you, sir!"

"Ah, professor, if at your age I have such a fresh, young, evergreen heart, and such an aspiring, progressive spirit as yours, I shall think the Lord has blessed me. But now go to bed, old friend, and recruit your strength for the journey. Though 'the spirit is willing, the flesh is weak,' you know. The soul is immortal, but the body is perishable; so you must take care of it."

"Yes, sir, I will, just because you tell me. But I want to show you first what preparations I have made for the voyage, to see if you approve them. You see, sir, when you went off to St. Mary's so sudden, and left me to pack up your clothes, it just struck me that there must be many things wanted on a sea-voyage as is not wanted on land; but of course I didn't know exactly what they were. So after cogitating a while, I remembered that the judge had been to Europe several times, and would know all about it, and so I just made bold to go and ask him. And he told me what you would require. And I went and got it, sir. Please, look here," said the professor, raising the lid of a trunk.

"You are very thoughtful, Morris. You are a real help to me," said Ishmael, smiling.

"You see, here are the warm, fine, dark flannel shirts, to be worn instead of linen ones on the voyage. And here is a thick woolen scarf. And here is your sea cap. And oh, here is your sea suit—of coarse pepper and salt. And if you believe me, sir, I went and gave the order to your tailor on Saturday morning, and told him the necessity for haste, and he sent the clothes home before twelve o'clock at night. I'm only afraid they'll hang like a bag on you, sir, as the tailor had nothing but your business suit to measure them by, though, to be sure, the fit of a sea suit isn't much matter, sir."

"Certainly not. You are a treasure to me, Morris; but if you do not go to bed now and recruit your strength, my treasure may be endangered."

"I'm going now, sir; only I want to call your attention to the books I have put into your trunk, sir. I thought as we could only take a very few, I had better put in the Bible, and Shakspeare, and Milton, sir."

"An admirable selection, Morris. Good-night, dear old friend."

"Good-night, sir; but please take notice I have put in a chess board and set of chessmen."

"All right, professor. Good-night," repeated Ishmael

"Yes, sir; good-night! And there's a first-rate spy-glass, as I thought you'd like to have to see distant objects."

"Thank you, professor. Good-night!" reiterated Ishmael, scarcely able to restrain his laughter.

"Good-night, sir. And there's some—well, I see you're laughing at me."

"No, no, professor! or, if I was, it was in sympathy and pleasure; not in derision—Heaven forbid! Your boyish interest in this voyage is really charming to me, professor. But you must retire, old friend; indeed you must. You know we will have plenty of time to look over these things when we get on board the steamer," said Ishmael, taking the old man's hand, cordially shaking it, and resolutely dismissing him to rest.

And Ishmael himself retired to bed and to sleep, and being very much fatigued with his long ride, he slept soundly until morning.

Though the professor was too much excited by the thoughts of his voyage to sleep much, yet he was up with the earliest dawn of morning, moving about softly in his master's room, strapping down the trunks and laying out traveling clothes and toilet apparatus.

The kind old maiden ladies also bestirred themselves earlier than usual this morning, that their young favorite should enjoy one more comfortable breakfast before he left.

And so when Ishmael was dressed and had just dispatched the professor to the stand to engage a hack to take them to the station, and while he was thinking of nothing better in the way of a morning meal than the weak, muddy coffee and questionable bread and butter of the railway restaurant, he received a summons to the dining room, where he found his two hostesses presiding over a breakfast of Mocha coffee, hot rolls, buckwheat cakes, poached eggs, broiled salmon, stewed oysters, and roast partridges.

Our young man had a fine healthy appetite of his own, and could enjoy this repast as well as any epicure alive; but better than all to his affectionate heart was the motherly kindness that had brought these two delicate old ladies out of their beds at this early hour to give him a breakfast.

They had their reward in seeing how heartily he ate. There was no one at the table but himself and themselves; and they pressed the food upon him, reminding him how long a journey he would have to make before he could sit down to another comfortable meal.

And when Ishmael had breakfasted and thanked them, and returned to his rooms to tie up some last little parcels, they called in the professor, who had now come back, and they plied him with all the luxuries on the breakfast table.

And when to their great satisfaction the old man had made an astonishing meal and risen from the table, they beckoned him mysteriously aside and gave a well-filled hamper into his charge, saying:

"You know, professor, it is a long journey from Washington to Boston, and in going straight through you can't get anything fit to eat on the road; and so we have packed this hamper for your master. There's ham sandwiches and chicken pie, and roast partridges and fried oysters, and French rolls and celery, and plenty of pickles and pepper and salt and things. And I have put in some plates and knives and napkins, all comfortable."

The professor thanked them heartily on the part of his master; and took the hamper immediately to the hack that was standing before the door.

Ishmael had already caused the luggage to be carried out and placed on the hack, and now nothing remained to be done but to take leave of the two old ladies. He shook hands with them affectionately, and they blessed him fervently. And as soon as he had got into the hack and it had driven off with him, they turned and clasped each other around the neck and cried.

Truly Ishmael's good qualities had made him deeply beloved.

When the hack reached the hotel, Ishmael found Judge Merlin, all greatcoated and shawled, walking up and down before the door with much impatience. His luggage had been brought down.

"You see I am in time, judge."

"Yes, Ishmael. Good morning. I was afraid you would not be, however. I was afraid you would oversleep yourself after your hard ride. But have you breakfasted?"

"Oh, yes! My dear old friends were up before day to have breakfast with me."

"I tell you what, Ishmael, they are really two charming old ladies, and if ever I get right again and spend another winter in this city, I will try to get them to take me to board. They would make a home for a man," said the judge.

While they were talking the porters were busy putting Judge Merlin's luggage upon Ishmael's hack.

"You have not heard whether the 'Errand Boy' has reached the wharf?" inquired Ishmael.

"Not a word. There has been no arrival here this morning from any quarter, as I understand from the head waiter."

"I am really afraid Mr. Brudenell will miss the train."

"If he does he will miss the voyage also. But we must not risk such a misfortune. Get in, boy, get in!" said the judge, hastily entering the hack.

Ishmael followed his example. The professor climbed up to a seat beside the driver and the hack moved off. They reached the railway station just in time. In fact they had not a moment to lose.

They had just got seated in the cars, and were expecting the signal whistle to shriek out every instant, when Ishmael, who was seated nearest the window, saw a gentleman in a great-coat, and with his shawl over his arm, and his umbrella and hat-box in his hand, hurrying frantically past.

"There is Mr. Brudenell now!" he exclaimed with pleasure, as he tapped upon the window to attract that gentleman's attention.

Mr. Brudenell looked up, nodded quickly, and darted on, and the next moment hurried in at the end door of the car and came down to them just as the signal whistle shrieked out and the train started.

Ishmael reserved the seat in front of himself and the judge, and invited Mr. Brudenell to take it.

The latter gentleman dropped into his place and then held out his hand to greet his fellow-passengers.

"So you are going with us to England. I am very glad of it," said the judge, though in fact he looked very pale and worn, as if he never could be glad again in this world.

"Yes," said Mr. Brudenell, "I am very glad indeed to be of your party. Good-morning, Worth!"

"Good-morning, sir! You were very fortunate to catch the train."

"Very! I was within half a minute of missing it. I had a run for it, I assure you."

"I beg your pardon, sir! Have you breakfasted?" here inquired the professor, in all the conscious importance of carrying a hamper.

"Ah, professor! how do you do? You are never going to Europe?" exclaimed Mr. Brudenell, in surprise.

"Yes, sir. I go wherever my master leads, sir. Mr. Worth and his humble servant will never be separated till death do them part. But about your breakfast, sir?"

"Why, truly, no, I have not breakfasted, unless a cup of suspicious- looking liquid called coffee, drunk at the railway table, could be called breakfast."

The professor sat his hamper on his knees, opened it, and began to reveal its hidden treasures.

Ishmael laughed, expressed his surprise, and inquired of Morris what cook shop he patronized.

And then the professor explained the kind forethought of the old ladies who had provided these luxuries for his journey.

"I declare I will live with them if they will let me, if ever I spend another winter in Washington! One could enjoy what is so often promised, so seldom given—'the comforts of a home'—with those old ladies," said the judge fervently.

Mr. Brudenell made a very satisfactory meal off half a dozen French rolls, a roasted partridge and a bottle of claret. And then while he was wiping his mouth and the professor was repacking the hamper and throwing the waste out of the window, Judge Merlin turned to Mr. Brudenell, and, with an old man's freedom, inquired:

"Pray, sir, may I ask, what procures us the pleasure—and it is indeed a great pleasure—of your company across the water?"

A shade of the deepest grief and mortification fell over the face of Herman Brudenell, as bending his head to the ear of his questioner, and speaking in a low voice, he replied:

"Family matters, of so painful and humiliating a nature as not to be discussed in a railway car, or scarcely anywhere else, in fact."

"Pardon me," said the judge, speaking in the same low tone; "some malignant star must reign. Had you asked the same question of me, concerning the motives of my journey, I might have truly answered you in the very same words."

And the old man groaned deeply; while Ishmael silently wondered what the family matters could be of which Mr. Brudenell spoke.

A modern railway journey is without incident or adventure worth recording, unless it be an occasional disastrous collision. No such calamity befell this train. Our travelers talked, dozed, eat, and drank a little through their twenty-four hours' journey. At noon they reached Philadelphia, at eve New York, at midnight Springfield, and the next morning Boston.

It was just sunrise as they arose and stretched their weary limbs and left the train. They had but an hour to spare to go to a hotel and refresh themselves with a bath, a change of clothes, and a breakfast before it was time to go on board their steamer.

They were the last passengers on board. Fortunately, at this season of the year there are comparatively but few voyagers. The best staterooms in the first cabin, to use a common phrase, "went a- begging."

And Judge Merlin, Mr. Brudenell, and Ishmael were each accommodated with a separate stateroom "amidships."

The professor was provided with a good berth in the second cabin.

There were about thirty other passengers in the first cabin, as many in the second, and quite a large number in the steerage.



CHAPTER XXV.

THE VOYAGE.

Thalatta! Thalatta! I greet thee, thou ocean eternal! I give thee ten thousand times greeting, My whole soul exulting! —Heine.



It was a splendid winter morning, and Boston harbor, with its shipping, presented a magnificent appearance, lighted up by the rising sun, as the "Oceana" steamed out towards the open sea.

Our three friends stood in the after part of the deck, gazing upon the dear native land they were leaving behind them. The professor waited in respectful attendance upon them.

A little way from the shore the signal gun was fired; the farewell gun! how it brought back to the father's memory that moment of agony when the signal gun of another steamer struck the knell of his parting with his only daughter, and seemed to break his heart!

He was going to Claudia now, but oh! how should he find her? Who could tell?

Still there was hope in the thought that he was going to her, and there was exhilaration in the wide expanse of sparkling waters, in the splendid winter sky, in the fresh sea-breeze, and in the swift motion of the steamer.

His eyes, however, with those of all his party, were fixed upon the beloved receding shore; for so smooth as yet was the motion of the steamer that it did not seem to be so much the "Oceana" that was sailing eastward, as the shore that was receding and dropping down below the western horizon.

They stood watching it until all the prominent objects grew gradually indistinct and became blended in each other; then until the dimly diversified boundary faded into a faint irregular blue line; then until it vanished. Only then they left the deck and went down into the cabin to explore their staterooms.

Ishmael found the professor, who had gone down a few minutes before him, busy unpacking his master's sea trunk, and getting him, as he said:

"Comfortably to housekeeping for the next two weeks."

When Ishmael entered the professor was just in the act of setting up the three books that comprised the sea library, carefully arranging them on a tiny circular shelf in the corner. One of the stateroom stewards who stood watching the "landlubber's" operations sarcastically said:

"How long, friend, do you expect them books to stand there?"

"Until my master takes them down, sir," politely answered the professor.

"Well, now, they'll stand there maybe until we get out among the big waves; when, at the first lurch of the ship, down they'll tumble upon somebody's head."

"'Sufficient unto the day—'" said the professor, persevering in his housekeeping arrangements. All that day there was nothing to threaten the equilibrium of the books. A splendid first day's sail they had. The sky was clear and bright; the sea serene and sparkling; the wind fresh and fair; and the motion of the steamer smooth and swift. Our travelers, despite the care at the bottom of their hearts, enjoyed it immensely. Who, with a remnant of hope remaining to them, can fail to sympathize with the beauty, glory, and rapture of Nature in her best moods?

At dinner they feasted with such good appetites as to call forth a jocose remark from a fellow-passenger who seemed to be an experienced voyager. He proved, in fact, to be a retired sea- captain, who was making this voyage partly for business, partly for pleasure. He was an unusually tall and stout old gentleman, with a stately carriage, a full, red face, and gray hair and beard.

"That is right. Go it while you're well, friends! For in all human probability this is the last comfortable meal you will enjoy for many a day," he said. Those whom he addressed looked up in surprise and smiled in doubt.

The splendid sunny day was followed by a brilliant starlight night, in which all the favorable circumstances of the voyage, so far, continued.

After tea the passengers went on deck to enjoy the beauty of the evening.

"What do you think, Captain Mountz?" inquired a gentleman, "will this fair wind continue long?"

"What the deuce is the wind to me? I'm a passenger," responded the irresponsible retired captain.

They remained on deck enjoying the starlit glory of the sea and sky until a late hour, when, fatigued and sleepy, they went below and sought their berths. To new voyagers there is in the first night at sea something so novel, so wild, so weird, so really unearthly, that few, if any, can sleep. They have left the old, still, safe land far behind, and are out in the dark upon the strange, unstable, perilous sea. It is a new element, a new world, a new life; and the novelty, the restlessness, and even the dangers, have a fascination that charms the imagination and banishes repose. A few voyages cure one of these fancies; but this is how a novice feels.

And thus it was with Ishmael. Fatigued as he was, he lay awake in his berth, soothed by the motion of the vessel and the sound of the sea, until near morning, when at length he fell into a deep sleep. It was destined to be a brief one, however.

Soon every passenger was waked up by the violent rolling and tossing of the ship; the creaking and groaning of the rigging; the howling and shrieking of the wind, and the rising and falling of the waves.

All the brave and active passengers tumbled up out of their berths and dressed quickly, while the timid and indolent cowered under their sheets and waited the issue.

Ishmael was among the first on deck. Day was dawning.

Here all hands were on the alert: the captain swearing his orders as fast as they could be obeyed. One set of men were rapidly taking in sail. Another set were seeing to the life boats. The sea was running mountains high; the ship rolling fearfully; the wind so fierce that Ishmael could scarcely stand.

He saw old Captain Mountz on deck, and appealed to him.

"We are likely to have a heavy gale?"

"Oh, a capful of wind! Only a capful of wind!" contemptuously replied that "old salt," who, by the way, through the whole of the tempestuous voyage could not be induced to acknowledge that they had had a single gale worth noticing.

But the wind increased in violence and the sea arose in wrath, and to battle they went, with their old irreconcilable hatred. And yet, notwithstanding the fury of wind and wave, the sun arose upon a perfectly clear sky.

Ishmael remained on deck watching the fierce warring of the elements until the second breakfast bell rung, when he went below.

Neither Judge Merlin nor Mr. Brudenell was at the breakfast table. In fact there was no one in the saloon, except Captain Mountz and two or three other seasoned old voyagers.

The remainder of the passengers were all dreadfully ill in their berths. The prediction of the old captain was fulfilled in their cases at least; they had eaten the last comfortable meal they could enjoy for many days.

As soon as Ishmael had eaten his breakfast he went below in search of the companions of his voyage.

He found the judge lying flat on his back, with his hands clasping his temples, and praying only to be let alone.

The stateroom steward was standing over him, bullying him with a cup of black tea, which he insisted upon his taking, whether or no.

"If he drinks it, sir, he will have something to throw up; which will be better for him than all this empty retching. And after he has thrown up he will be all right, and be able to get up and eat his breakfast and go on deck," said the man, appealing to Ishmael.

"Ishmael, kick that rascal out of my room, and break his neck and throw him overboard!" cried the judge, in anguish and desperation.

"Friend, don't you know better than to exasperate a seasick man? Leave him to me until he is better," said Ishmael smiling on the well-meaning steward.

"But, sir, if he would drink this tea he would throw up and—"

"Ishmael, will you strangle that diabolical villain and pitch him into the sea?" thundered the judge.

The "diabolical villain" raised his disengaged hand in deprecation and withdrew, carrying the cup of tea in the other.

"And now, Ishmael, take yourself off, and leave me in peace. I hate you! and I loathe the whole human race!"

Ishmael left the stateroom, meditating on the demoralizing nature of seasickness.

He next visited Mr. Brudenell, whom he found in a paroxysm of illness, with another stateroom steward holding the basin for him.

"Ugh! ugh! ugh!" moaned the victim. "This heaving, rising, falling sea! And this reeling, pitching, tossing ship! If it would only stop for one moment! I should be glad of anything that would stop it— even a fire!"

"I am sorry to see you suffering so much, sir! Can I do anything for you?" inquired Ishmael sympathetically.

"Ugh! ugh! ugh! No! Hold the basin for me again, Bob! No, Ishmael, you can do nothing for me! only do go away! I hate anyone to see me in this debasing sickness! for it is debasing, Ishmael! Ugh! the basin, Bob! quick!"

Ishmael backed out in double-quick time.

And next he found his way to the second cabin, to the bedside of the professor.

Apparently Jim Morris had just suffered a very severe paroxysm; for he lay back on his pillow with pale, sharp, sunken features and almost breathless lungs.

"I am sorry to see you so ill, professor," said Ishmael tenderly, laying his hand on the old man's forehead.

"It is nothing, Mr. Ishmael, sir, only a little seasickness, as all the passengers have. I dare say it will soon be over. I am only concerned because I can't come and wait on you," said the professor, speaking faintly, and with a great effort.

"Never mind that, dear old friend. I can wait on myself very well; and on you, too, while you need attention."

"Oh, Mr. Ishmael, sir! You are much too kind; but I shall be all right in a little time, and am so glad you are not sick, too."

"No; I am not sick, Morris. But I am afraid that you have been suffering very much," said Ishmael, as he noticed the old man's pallid countenance.

"Oh, no, Mr. Ishmael! Don't disturb yourself. I shall be better soon. You see, when I was very bad they persuaded me to drink a pint of sea-water, which really made me much worse, though it was all well meant. But now I am better. And I think I will try to get up on deck. Why, law, seasickness aint pleasant, to be sure; but then it is worth while to bear it for the sake of crossing the sea and beholding the other hemisphere," said Jim Morris, trying to smile over his own illness and Ishmael's commiseration.

"God bless you, for a patient, gentle-spirited old man and a true philosopher! When you are able to rise, Morris, I will give you my arm up on deck and have a pallet made for you there, and the fresh air will do you good."

"Thank you, thank you, Mr. Ishmael! It is good to be ill when one is so kindly cared for. Isn't there a gale, sir?"

"Yes, Morris, a magnificent one! The old enemies, wind and sea, are in their most heroic moods, and are engaged in a pitched battle. This poor ship, like a neutral power, is suffering somewhat from the assaults of both."

"I think I will go and look on that battlefield," smiled the professor, trying to rise.

Ishmael helped him, and when he was dressed gave him his arm and took him up on deck, at the same time requesting one of the second- cabin stewards to follow with a rug and cushion.

This man, wondering at the affectionate attention paid by the stately young gentleman to his sick servant, followed them up and made the professor a pallet near the wheel-house, on the deck.

When, with the assistance of the steward, Ishmael had made his old retainer comfortable, he placed himself with his shoulders against the back of the wheel-house to steady himself, for the ship was rolling terribly, and he stood gazing forth upon the stormy surface of the sea.

A magnificent scene! The whole ocean, from the central speck on which he stood to the vast, vanishing circle of the horizon, seemed one boundless, boiling caldron. Millions of waves were simultaneously leaping in thunder from the abyss and rearing themselves into blue mountain peaks, capped with white foam, and sparkling in the sunlight for a moment, to be swallowed up in the darkness of the roaring deep the next. A lashing, tossing, heaving, foaming, glancing rise and fall of liquid mountains and valleys, awful, but ravishing, to look on.

Ishmael stood leaning against the wheel-house, with his arms folded and his eyes gazing out at sea. His whole soul was exalted to reverence and worship, and he murmured within himself:

"It is the Lord that commandeth the waters; it is the glorious God that maketh the thunder!

"It is the Lord that ruleth the sea; the voice of the Lord is mighty in operation; the voice of the Lord is a glorious voice!"

As for the professor, he lay propped up at his master's feet, and looking forth upon the mighty war of wind and wave. The sight had subdued him. He was content only to exist and enjoy.



CHAPTER XXVI.

THE STORM.

Colder and louder blew the wind, A gale from the northeast; The snow fell hissing in the brine; And the billows foamed like yeast.

Down came the storm and smote amain, The vessel in its strength; She shuddered and paused like a frightened steed, Then leaped her cable's length.

And fast through the midnight, dark and drear, Through the whistling sleet and snow, Like a sheeted ghost the vessel swept, Toward the reef of Norman's Woe. —Wreck of the "Hesperus."



Ishmael remained upon the quarterdeck, gazing out upon the stormy glory of the sea and sky until he was interrupted by the most prosaic, though the most welcome of sounds—that of the dinner-bell.

Then he went below.

On his way to the saloon he stopped at the entrance of the second cabin; called one of the stewards, and while putting a piece of money in his hand, requested him to take a bowl of soup up to the old man on deck, and to see that he wanted nothing.

Then Ishmael paid a visit to each of his suffering companions.

First he opened the door of Judge Merlin's stateroom, and found that gentleman with his face sulkily turned to the wall, and in a state of body and mind so ill and irritable as to make all attempts at conversation with him quite dangerous to the speaker.

Next Ishmael looked in upon Mr. Brudenell, whom he luckily found fast asleep. And then, after having given the stateroom stewards a strict charge concerning the comfort of these two victims, Ishmael passed on to the dining saloon. It was nearly empty. There were even fewer people gathered for dinner than there had been for breakfast.

The tables had the storm-guards upon them, so that each plate and dish sat down in its own little pen to be kept from slipping off in the rolling of the ship. But this arrangement could not prevent them from occasionally flying out of their places when there was an unusually violent toss.

At the table where Ishmael sat there was no one present except the old retired merchantman, Captain Mountz, who sat on the opposite side, directly under the port lights. And with the rolling of the ship these two diners, holding desperately onto the edge of the table, were tossed up and down like boys on a see-saw plank.

The mingled noise of wind and wave and ship was so deafening as to make conversation difficult and nearly impossible. And yet Ishmael and the captain seemed to feel in courtesy compelled to bawl at each other across the table as they see-sawed up and down.

"The gale seems to have knocked down all our fellow passengers and depopulated our saloon," cried Ishmael, soaring up to the sky with his side of the table.

"Yes, sir, yes, sir; a lot of land-lubbers, sir; a lot of lubbers, sir! Gale? Nothing but a capful of wind, sir! Nothing but a capful of wind!" roared the captain, sinking down to the abyss on his side of the table.

Here the steward, seizing a favorable moment, deftly served them with soup. And nothing but the utmost tact and skill in marine legerdemain enabled this functionary to convey the soup from the tureen to the plates. And when there, it required all the attention and care of the diners to get it from plate to lip. And, after all, more than half of it was spilled.

"Thank goodness, that is over! The solids won't give us so much trouble," said the captain, handing his empty plate to the steward.

The second course was served. But the motion of the ship increased so much in violence that the two diners were compelled to hold still more firmly on to the edge of the table with one hand, while they ate with the other, as they were tossed up and down.

"You're a good sailor, sir!" bawled the captain as he pitched down out of sight.

"Yes, thank Heaven!" shouted Ishmael, flying up.

Then came a tremendous lurch of the ship.

"Oh, I must see that wave!" cried the captain, imprudently climbing up to look out from the port-light above him.

He had scarcely attained the desired position when there came another, an unprecedented toss of the ship, and the unlucky captain lay sprawling on the top of the table—with one wide-flung hand deep in the dish of mashed turnips and the other grasping the roast pig, while his bullet head was butted into Ishmael's stomach.

"Blast the ship!" cried the discomfited old man—very unnecessarily, since there was "blast" enough, and to spare.

"'Only a capful of wind,' captain! 'Only a capful of wind,'" said Ishmael, in a grave, matter-of-fact way, as he carefully assisted the veteran to rise.

"Humph! humph! humph! I might have known you would have said that. Ha! glad none of the women are here to see me! I s'pose I've done for the mashed turnips and roast pig; and I shouldn't wonder if I had knocked your breath out of your body, too, sir," sputtered the old man, trying to recover his feet, a difficult matter amid the violent pitching of the ship.

"Oh, you've not hurt me the least," said Ishmael, still rendering him all the assistance in his power.

But this mishap put an end to the dinner. For the captain's toilet sadly needed renovating, and the table required putting right.

Ishmael went up on deck—a nearly impossible feat for any landsman, even for one so strong and active as Ishmael was, to accomplish with safety to life and limb, for the ship was now fearfully pitched from side to side, and wallowing among the leaping waves.

High as the wind was—blowing now a hurricane—the sky was perfectly clear, and the sun was near its setting.

Ishmael found his old servant sitting propped up against the back of the wheel-house, looking out at one of the most glorious of all the glorious sights in nature—sunset at sea.

"As soon as the sun has set you must go down and turn in, Morris. The wind is increasing, and it is no longer safe for a landsman like you to remain up here," said his master.

"Mr. Ishmael, sir, you must just leave me up here to my fate. As to getting me down now, that is impossible; I noticed that it took both your hands, as well as both your feet, to help yourself up," replied the professor.

"What! do you mean to stay on deck all night?"

"I see no help for it, sir; I should be pitched downstairs and have my neck broken, or be washed into the sea and get drowned, by any attempt to go below."

"Nonsense, Morris; the sun has gone down now; follow his example. I will take you safely," said Ishmael, offering his arm to the old man in that kind, but peremptory, way that admitted of no denial.

A sailor near at hand came forward and offered his assistance. And between the two the professor was safely taken down to the second cabin and deposited in his berth.

A German Jew, who shared the professor's stateroom, saw the party coming, and exclaimed to a fellow-passenger:

"Tere's tat young shentleman mit his olt man again. Fader Abraham! he ish von shentleman; von drue shentleman!"

"A 'true gentleman,' I believe you, Isaacs. Why, don't you know who he is? He is that German prince they've been making such a fuss over, in the States. I saw his name in the list of passengers. Prince—Prince Edward of—of Hesse—Hesse something or other, I forget. They are all Hesses or Saxes up there," said his interlocutor.

"No, no," objected the Jew. "Dish ish nod he. I know Brince Etwart ven I see him. He ish von brince, but nod von shentleman. He svears ad hish mens."

The near approach of the subject of this conversation prevented farther personal remarks. But when Ishmael had seen his old follower comfortably in bed, the Jew turned to him and, as it would seem, for the simple pleasure of speaking to the young man whom he admired so much, said:

"Zir; te zhip rollts mush. Tere vill pe a gread pig storm."

"I think so," answered Ishmael courteously.

"Vell, if zhe goesh down do te boddom tere vill pe von lesh drue shentleman in de vorlt, zir. Ant tat vill be you."

"Thank you," said Ishmael, smiling.

"Ant tere vill pe von lesh Sherman Shew in te vorlt. Ant tat vill pe me."

"Oh, I hope there is no danger of such a calamity. Good-night!" said Ishmael, smiling upon his admirer and withdrawing from the cabin.

Ishmael took tea with the old captain, who came into the saloon and sat down in a perfectly renovated toilet, as if nothing had happened.

But when I say they took tea, I mean that they took quite as much of it up their sleeves and down their bosoms as into their mouths. Drinking tea in a rolling ship is a sloppy operation.

After that the captain produced a chess-board, ingeniously arranged for sea-service, and the two gentlemen spent the evening in a mimic warfare that ended in a drawn battle.

"The gale seems to be subsiding. The motion of the ship has not been so violent for the last half hour, I think," said Ishmael, as they arose from the table.

"No; if it had been, we could not have played chess, even on this boxed board," was the reply.

"I hope we shall have fine weather now. What do you say, captain?"

"I say as I said before. I am a passenger, and the weather is nothing to me. But if you expect we are going to have fine weather because the wind has lulled—humph!"

"We shall not, then?"

"We shall have a twister, that is what we shall have—and before many hours. And I shouldn't wonder if we had a storm of snow and sleet to cap off with. Good-night, sir!" And with this consoling prophecy the old man withdrew.

Ishmael went to his berth and slept soundly until morning. When he awoke he found the ship rolling, pitching, tossing, leaping, falling, and fairly writhing and twisting like a living creature in mortal agony.

He fell out of his berth, pitched into his clothes, slopped his face and hands, raked his hair, and tumbled on deck. In other words, by sleight of hand and foot, he made a sea-toilet and went up.

What a night!

The sky black as night; the sea lashed into a foam as white as snow; the waves running mountain high from south to north; the wind blowing a hurricane from east to west; the ship subjected to this cross action, pitching onward in semicircular jerks, deadly sickening to see and feel.

"I suppose this is what you call a 'twister,'" said Ishmael, reeling towards the old captain, who was already on deck.

"Yes; just as I told you! You see that gale blew from the south for about forty-eight hours and got the sea up running north. And then, before the sea had time to subside, the wind chopped round and now blows from due east. And the ship is rolled from side to side by the waves and tossed from stem to stern by the wind. And between the two actions she is regularly twisted, and that is the reason why the sailors call this sort of thing a 'twister.' And this is not the worst of it. This east wind will be sure to blow up a snowstorm. We shall have it on the Banks."

"This has gone beyond a gale. I should call this a hurricane," said Ishmael.

"Hurricane? hurricane? Bless you, sir, no, sir! capful of wind! capful of wind!" said the old man doggedly.

Nevertheless Ishmael noticed that the ship's captain looked anxious and gave his orders in short, peremptory tones.

The predicted snowstorm did not come on during that short winter's day, however. The "twister" "twisted" vigorously; twisted the ship nearly in two; twisted the souls, or rather the stomachs, nearly out of the bodies of the seasick victims. Even the well-pickled "old salt," Captain Mountz, felt uncomfortable. And it was just as much as Ishmael could do to keep himself up and avoid succumbing to illness. Those two were the last of the passengers that attempted to keep up. And they were very glad when night came and gave them an excuse for retiring.

The predicted snowstorm came on about midnight. When Ishmael dressed and struggled out of his stateroom in the morning, he found it just the nearest thing to an impossibility to go up on deck. The wind was still blowing a hurricane; the sea leaping in the wildest waves; the ship pitching, tossing, and jerking as before; and in addition to all this, the snow was falling thick and fast, and freezing as it fell, and every part of the deck and rigging was covered with a slippery, shining coating of ice.

Those who find it dangerous to walk on a motionless pavement in sleety weather may now imagine what is was to climb the ice-sheathed steps of this pitching ship.

Ishmael managed to get up on deck somehow; but he found the place deserted of all except the man at the wheel and the officer of the watch. Even the old sea lion, Captain Mountz, was among the missing.

There was little to be seen. He stood on the deck of a tossing ship of ice, in the midst of a high wind, a boiling sea, and a storm of snow; he could not discern an object a foot in advance of him.

And so, after a few words with the well-wrapped-up officer of the watch, he went below to look after the companions of his voyage.

Judge Merlin and Mr. Brudenell, like all the other passengers, were so ill as still to hate the sight of a human being. Leaving them in the care of the stateroom steward, Ishmael went to see after his old retainer. The professor was up, clothed, and in his right mind.

"You see I made an effort, Mr. Ishmael, sir, and a successful one, so far as getting on my feet was concerned. When I woke up this morning it occurred to me, like a reproach, that I had come with you, sir, to wait on you and not to be waited on by you—which latter arrangement was a sort of turning things topsy-turvy—"

"I ding sho doo," interrupted the German Jew, whose name was Isaacs.

"And so," continued the professor, "I made an effort to get up and do my duty, and I find myself much better for it."

"I am glad you are well enough to be up, Morris, but indeed, you need have suffered no twinges of conscience on my account," said Ishmael, smiling.

"I know your kindness, sir, and that makes it more incumbent on me to do my duty by you. Well, sir, I've been to your stateroom; but finding you gone, and everything dancing a hornpipe there, I tried to get up on deck to you, but there, sir, I failed. And, besides, while I was doing my best, a stout old gentleman, a sea captain I take him to be, blasted my eyes, and ordered me to go below and not break my blamed neck. And so I did."

"That was Captain Mountz. He meant you well, Morris. You did quite right to obey him."

Soon after this Ishmael went to his stateroom, took a volume of Shakspeare, and then ensconsed himself in a corner of the saloon, where he sat and read until dinner-time.

The progress of the steamer was very slow. The day passed heavily. And again when night came everyone was glad to go to bed and to sleep.



CHAPTER XXVII.

THE WRECK.

And ever the fitful gusts between A sound came from the land; It was the sound of the tramping surf, On the rocks and the hard sea-sand.

The breakers were right beneath her bows, She drifted a dreary wreck, And a whooping billow swept the crew Like icicles from her deck.

She struck where the white and fleecy waves Looked soft as carded wool, But the cruel rocks, they gored her sides, Like the horns of an angry bull. —Wreck of the "Hesperus."



When Ishmael awoke in the morning he was surprised to find that the motion of the ship was much lessened. And when he went up on deck he was pleased to discover that the wind had fallen and the sea was going down.

There was but one trouble—the thick fog; but that might be expected on the Banks of Newfoundland.

Old Captain Mountz was pacing up and down the deck with the firm tread of a man who felt himself on solid ground.

"Good-morning, captain! A pleasant change this," was Ishmael's greeting.

"Oh, aye, yes! for as long as it will last," was the dampening reply.

"Why, you don't think the wind will rise again, do you?"

"Don't I? I tell you before many hours we shall have a strong sou'wester, that will do its best to drive us ashore on these Banks," was the discouraging answer.

But by this time Ishmael had grown to understand the old sailor, and to know that he generally talked by the "rules of contrary"; for whereas he would not permit the late gale to be anything more than a "capful of wind," he now declared the fine weather to be nothing less than the forerunner of a hurricane.

So Ishmael did not feel any very serious misgivings, but went downstairs to breakfast with a good appetite.

Here another pleasant surprise greeted him: Judge Merlin and Mr. Brudenell, recovered from their seasickness, were both at breakfast; and notwithstanding the weight of care that oppressed their hearts they were both, from the mere physical reaction from depressing illness, in excellent spirits.

They arose to greet their young friend.

"How do you do, how do you do, Ishmael?" began Judge Merlin, heartily shaking his hand. "I really suppose now that you think I owe you an apology? But the fact is you owe me one. Didn't you know better than to intrude on the privacy of a seasick man? Didn't you know that a victim hates the sight of one who is not a victim? And that a seasick man or a rabid dog is better let alone, eh?"

"I beg your pardon, sir; I did not know it; but now that you enlighten me, I will not offend again," laughed Ishmael.

Mr. Brudenell's greeting was quieter, but even more cordial than that of the judge.

Before breakfast was over they were joined by others of their fellow-passengers, whom they had not seen since the first day out.

Among the rest was a certain Dr. Kerr, a learned savant, professor in the University of Glasgow, who had been on a scientific mission to the United States, and was returning home. He was a tall, thin old gentleman, in a long, black velvet dressing-gown and a round, black velvet skullcap. And he entered readily into conversation with our party on the subject of the late gales, and from that diverged into the subject of meteorology. There were no ladies present at breakfast.

The whole party soon adjourned to the deck, and notwithstanding the fog, enjoyed the pleasure of a promenade and conversation as they only can who have been deprived of such privileges for many days.

At dinner the long absent ladies reappeared; among the rest, the wife and daughters of the Scotch professor; and with the freedom of ocean steamer traveling, all well-dressed and well-behaved first- cabin passengers soon became acquainted and sociable, if not intimate.

Mrs. Dr. Kerr had happened to hear of Mr. Worth as one of the most promising young barristers of the time; and finding him in the company of Chief Justice Merlin, and approving him on short acquaintance, and knowing that he was unmarried, and not knowing that his heart, hand, and honor were irretrievably engaged, she singled him out as a very desirable match for one of her four penniless daughters, and paid such court to him as Ishmael, in the honesty and gratitude of his heart, repaid with every attention.

Mrs. Dr. Kerr, complaining of the tediousness of the voyage, and the dullness of her own circle, invited Ishmael and his party to spend the evening and play whist in the ladies' cabin—forbidden ground to all gentlemen who had no ladies with them, unless indeed they should happen, as in this case, to be invited.

All the gentlemen of our party availed themselves of this privilege, and the evening passed more pleasantly than any other evening since they had been at sea.

The fog lasted for three days, during which, as the wind was fair and the sea calm, the passengers, well wrapped up, enjoyed the promenade of the deck during the day, and the social meetings in the dining saloon, or the whist parties in the ladies' cabin during the evening.

And lulled by this deceitful calm, they were happy in the thought that the voyage was nearly half over, and in the anticipation of a prosperous passage over the remaining distance, and a safe arrival in port.

On the evening of the third day of the fog, however, a vague and nameless dread prevailed among the passengers. No one could have told whence this dread arose, or whither it pointed. Those well acquainted with the locality knew that the steamer was upon the Banks of Newfoundland, and that those Banks were considered rather unsafe in a fog.

Some others, who were in the secret, also knew that the captain had not left the quarterdeck, either to eat or to sleep, for forty-eight hours; for they had left him on deck at a late hour at night, and found him there at an early hour of the morning. And they had seen strong coffee carried up to him at short intervals. That was all. For sailors never think of danger until that danger, whatever it might be, is imminent; and never speak of it until it becomes necessary to do so, in order to save life.

Thus the passengers on board the "Oceana," on the night of the 20th of December, were totally ignorant of the real nature of the perils that beset them, although, as I said, an undefined misgiving and a sense of insecurity oppressed their hearts.

At ten o'clock that night the weather was thick, foggy, and intensely cold, with a heavy sea and a high wind.

The captain and first mate were on deck, where a number of the hardier and more anxious passengers were collected to watch.

In the dining saloon were gathered around the tables those inveterate gamblers who seem to have no object, either in the voyage of the ocean or the voyage of life, except the winning or losing of money.

In the ladies' cabin there were two social whist parties, formed of the ladies of the Scotch professor's family and the gentlemen of our set.

They were playing with great enjoyment, notwithstanding that little undercurrent of vague uneasiness of which I spoke, when the Scotchman, who had been on the deck all the evening, came down into the cabin, wearing a long face.

But the whist-players were too much interested in their game to notice the lugubrious expression of the old man, until he came to the table, and in a tone of the most alarming gravity exclaimed:

"Don't be frightened!"

Every lady dropped her cards and turned deadly pale with terror. Every gentleman looked up inquiringly at this judicious speaker.

"What is there to be frightened at, sir?" coldly inquired Ishmael.

"Well, you know our situation—But, ladies, for Heaven's sake, be composed. Your sex are noted for heroism in the midst of danger—"

Here, to prove his words good, one of the ladies shrieked, fell back in her chair, and covered her face with her hands.

"These ladies are not aware of any danger, sir, and I think it quite needless to alarm them," said Ishmael gravely.

"My good young friend, I don't wish to alarm them; I came down here on purpose to exhort them to coolness and self-possession, so necessary in the hour of peril. Now, dear ladies, I must beg that you will not suffer yourselves to be agitated."

"There is really, sir, no present cause for agitation, except, if you will pardon me for saying it, your own needlessly alarming words and manner," said Ishmael cheerfully, to reassure the frightened women, who seemed upon the very verge of hysterics.

"No, no, no, certainly no cause for agitation, ladies—certainly not. Therefore don't be agitated, I beg of you. But—but—don't undress and go to bed to-night. Lie down on the outside of your berths just as you are; for, look you—we may all have to take to the lifeboats at a minute's warning," said the doctor, his long, pale face looking longer and paler than ever under his round, black skullcap.

A half-smothered shriek burst simultaneously from all the women present.

"I trust, sir, that your fears are entirely groundless. I have heard no apprehensions expressed in any other quarter," said Ishmael. And although he never begged the ladies not to be "frightened," yet every cheerful word he spoke tended to calm their fears.

"What cause have you for such forebodings, doctor?" inquired Mr. Brudenell.

"Oh, none at all, sir. There is no reason to be alarmed. I hope nobody will be alarmed, especially the ladies. But you see the captain has not been able to make an observation for the last three days on account of the fog; and it is said that no one accurately knows just where we are; except that we are on the Banks, somewhere, and may strike before we know it. That is all. Now don't be terrified. And don't lose your presence of mind. And whatever you do, don't take off your clothes; for if we strike you mayn't have time to put them on again, and scanty raiment, in an open boat, on a wintry night at sea, wouldn't be pleasant. Now mind what I tell you. I shall not turn in myself. I am going on deck to watch."

And having succeeded in spreading a panic among the women, the old man took himself and his black skullcap out of the cabin. Exclamations of surprise, fear, and horror followed his departure.

There was no more card-playing; they did not even finish their game; they felt it to be sacrilegious to engage in even a "ladies' game" of whist, on the eve of possible shipwreck, perhaps on the brink of eternity.

Ishmael gathered up and put away the cards and set himself earnestly to calm the fears of his trembling fellow-passengers; but they were not to be soothed. Then he offered to go up on deck and make inquiries as to the situation, course, and prospects of the ship; but they would not consent to his leaving them; they earnestly besought him to stay; and declared that they found assurance and comfort in his presence.

At length he took the Bible and seated himself at the table, and read to them such portions as were suited to their condition. He read for more than an hour, and then, hoping that this had composed their spirits, he closed the book and counseled them to retire and take some rest; and promised to station himself outside the cabin door and be their vigilant sentinel, to warn them of danger the instant it should become necessary.

But no! they each and all declared sleep to be impossible under the circumstances. And they continued to sit around the table with their arms laid on its top and their heads buried In them, waiting for— what? Who could tell?

Meanwhile the ship was borne swiftly on by wind and wave—whither? None of these frightened women knew.

Eight bells struck—twelve, midnight; and Ishmael renewed his entreaties that they would take some repose. But in vain; for they declared that there could be no repose for their bodies while their minds were suffering such intense anxiety.

One bell struck, and there they sat; two bells, and there they still sat; and there was but little conversation after this. Three bells struck, and they sat on, so motionless that Ishmael hoped they had fallen asleep on their watch and he refrained from addressing them. Four bells struck. It was two o'clock in the morning, and dead silence reigned in the ladies' cabin. Everyone except Ishmael had gone to sleep.

Suddenly through the stillness a cry rang—a joyous cry. It was the voice of the man on the lookout, and it shouted forth:

"Land ho!"

"Where away?" called another voice.

"On her lee bow!"

"What do you make of it?"

"Cape Safety lighthouse!"

A shout went up from the passengers on deck. A simultaneous, involuntary, joyous three times three.

"Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!"

A devout thanksgiving ascended from Ishmael's heart:

"Thank God!" he fervently exclaimed.

It was indeed an infinite relief.

Then he turned to wake up his wearied fellow-passengers, who had fallen asleep in such uneasy attitudes—arms folded, on the top of the table and heads fallen on the folded arms.

"Ladies! dear ladies! dear Mrs. Kerr! you may retire to rest now. We have made Cape Safety," he said, going from one to another and gently rousing them.

They were a little bewildered at first; and while they were still trying to understand what Ishmael was saying, the Scotch professor burst into the cabin and enlightened them by a coup-de-main.

"You may all undress and go to bed now, and sleep in peace, without the least fear of a shipwreck."

"Eh, pa! is it so—are we safe?" cried the elder daughter.

"Safe as St. Paul's. We know where we are now. We have made Cape Safety Lighthouse. Go to bed and sleep easy. I'm going now. Come along, Jeanie," said the doctor to his old wife.

"Not until I have shaken hands with this good young gentleman. I don't know what would have become of us, doctor, after you frightened us so badly, if it had not been for him. He stayed with us and kept up our hearts. God bless you, young sir!" said Mrs. Dr. Kerr, fervently pressing Ishmael's hands.

Ishmael himself was glad to go to rest; so he only stopped long enough to bid good-night to Judge Merlin and Mr. Brudenell, who had just awakened to a sense of security, and then he went to his stateroom and turned in.

Thoroughly wearied in mind and body, he had no sooner touched his pillow than he fell into a deep sleep—a sleep that annihilated several hours of time.

He slept until he was aroused by a tremendous shock—a shock that threw him, strong, heavy, athletic man as he was, from his stateroom berth to the cabin floor. He was on his feet in a moment, though stunned, confused, and amazed. The poor ship was shuddering throughout her whole frame like a living creature in the agony of death.

Men who had been violently thrown from their berths to the floor were everywhere picking themselves up and trying to collect their scattered senses. Crowds were hurrying from the cabins and saloons to the deck. The voices of the officers were heard in quick, anxious, peremptory orders; and those of the crew in prompt, eager, terrified responses.

And through all came shrieks of terror, anguish, and despair.

"The ship has struck!" "We are lost!" "God have mercy!" were the cries.

Ishmael hurried on his clothes and rushed to the deck. Here all was panic, confusion, and unutterable distress. The fog had cleared away; day was dawning; and there was just light enough to show them the utter hopelessness of their position.

The steamer bad struck a rock, and with such tremendous force that she was already parting amidships; her bows were already under water and the sea was breaking over her with fearful force.

How had this happened, with the lighthouse ahead? Was it really a lighthouse, or was it a false beacon?

No one could tell; no one had time to ask. Everybody was fast crowding to the stern of the ship, the only part of her that was out of water. Some crawled up, half drowned; some dripping wet; some scarcely yet awake, acting upon the blind impulse of self- preservation.

Two of the lifeboats had been forcibly reft away from the side of the ship by the violence of the shock and carried off by the sea. Only two remained, and it was nearly certain that they were not of sufficient capacity to save the crew and passengers.

But the danger was imminent—a moment's delay might be fatal to all on board the wreck; not an instant was to be lost.

The order was quickly given:

"Get out the lifeboats!"

And the sailors sprang to obey.

At this moment another fatality threatened the doomed crew—it was what might have been expected: the steerage passengers, mostly a low and brutalized order of men, in whom the mere animal instinct of love of life and fear of death was predominant over every nobler emotion, came rushing in a body up the deck, and crying with one voice:

"To the lifeboats! to the lifeboats! Let us seize the lifeboats, and save ourselves!"

Everyone else was panic-stricken. It is in crises like this that the true hero is developed. With the bound of a young Achilles Ishmael seized a heavy iron bar and sprang to the starboard gangway, where the two remaining boats were still suspended; and standing at bay, with limbs apart, and eyes threatening, and his fearful weapon raised in his right hand, he thundered forth:

"Who tries to pass here dies that instant! Stand off!"

Before this young hero the, crowd of senseless, rushing brutes recoiled as from a fire.

He pursued and secured his victory with a few words:

"Are you men? If so, before all, let helpless childhood, and feeble womanhood, and venerable age be saved; and then you. I demand of you no more than I am willing to do myself. I will be the last to leave the wreck. I will see you all in safety before I attempt to save my own life."

So great is the power of heroism over all, that even these brutal men, so selfish, senseless, and impetuous a moment before, were now subdued; nay, some of them were inspired and raised a hurrah.

Fear of a possible reaction among the steerage passengers, however, caused old Captain Mountz, Judge Merlin, Mr. Brudenell, Dr. Kerr, Jem Morris, the Jew, and several others to come to the support of Ishmael. Among the rest the captain of the steamer came.

"Young man, you have saved all our lives," he said.

Ishmael slowly bowed his head.

"I hope that God has saved you all," he answered.

The sailors were now busy getting down the lifeboats. It was but the work of a very few minutes.

"Let the ladies and children be brought forward," ordered the captain. And the women and children, some screaming, some weeping, and some dumb with terror, were lowered into one of the boats.

"Now the nearest male relatives of these ladies to the same boat," was the captain's next order.

And Dr. Kerr and about a dozen other gentlemen presented themselves, and were lowered into the boat, where they were received with hysterical cries of mingled joy and fear by the women.

And all this time the sea was dashing fearfully over the wreck, and at every interval the planks of the deck upon which they clung were felt to swell and sway as if they were about to part.

"Now the old men!" shouted the captain.

Ishmael took Judge Merlin by the arm, and with gentle coercion passed them on to the sailors, who lowered him into the boat.

Then Captain Mountz and several other old men, and many who were not old, but were willing to appear so "for this occasion only," followed and were passed down into the boat.

Then Ishmael looked around in concern. The professor was lingering in the background.

"Come here, Morris! You certainly fall under the head of "'old men,'" he said, taking the professor by the elbow and gently pushing him forward.

"No, young Ishmael, no! I cannot go! The boat is as full as it can be packed now—or at least it won't hold more than one more, and you ought to go; and I will not crowd you out," urged the old man, with passionate earnestness.

And all this time the sea was thundering over the wreck and entirely drenching everybody, and nearly drowning some.

"Morris, I shall not in any case enter that boat. There is no time, when scores of lives are in imminent danger, to argue the point. But—as you never disobeyed me in your life before, I now lay my commands on you to go into that boat," said Ishmael, with the tone and manner of a monarch.

With a cry of despair the professor let himself drop into the lifeboat to be saved.

The boat was now really as full as it could possibly be crammed with safety to its passengers. And it was detained only until a cask of fresh water and a keg of biscuit could be thrown into it, and then it gave way for the second lifeboat to come up to the gangway.

This second boat was rapidly filled. But when it was crowded quite full there remained upon the breaking wreck Ishmael and ten of the younger steerage passengers.

"Come! come!" shouted the captain of the steamer, who was in the second boat. "Come, Mr. Worth! There is room for one more! There is always room, for one more."

"If there is room for one more, take one of these young men, my companions," replied Ishmael gravely.

"No! no! if we cannot take all, why take one of their number, instead of taking you, Mr. Worth? Come! come! do not keep us here! It is dangerous!" urged the captain.

"Pass on! I remain here!" answered Ishmael steadfastly.

"But that is madness. What good will it do? Come, quick! climb up on the bulwarks and leap down into the boat! You are young and active, and can do it! quick!"

"Give way! I shall remain here," replied Ishmael, folding his arms and planting himself firmly on the quaking deck, over which the sea incessantly thundered.

"Ishmael! Ishmael! My son! my son! for Heaven's sake—for my sake,— come!" cried Mr. Brudenell, holding out his arms in an agony of prayer.

"Father," replied the young man, in this supreme moment of fate not refusing him that paternal title; "father," he repeated, with impassioned fervor, "father, every one of these men has precedence of me, in the right to be saved. For when I intervened between them and the lifeboats they were about to seize I promised them that I would see every one of them in safety before attempting to save myself. I promised them that I would be the very last man to leave the wreck. Father, they confided in me, and I will keep my word with them."