Part 8 (1/2)
She revolved these matters in her mind during the night. By early dawn she mounted her horse, and, leading the other, rode away from the fatal spot. For two days she travelled on, till she reached a range of hills, among which she believed that she should be safe from discovery. She knew too well that, should she encounter any of her husband's foes, neither her sad history nor her s.e.x could save her from the most cruel treatment--scarcely, indeed, from death. At last she reached the locality she sought, and fixed her abode in a deep hollow in the side of the hill facing the sunny south. She had brought with her some buffalo-robes and deer-skins: with these and a few cedar-branches, and some pine and other bark, she constructed a wigwam by the side of a sparkling stream which burst forth from the mountain-side.
No game was to be found, and she was compelled to kill the horses, and smoke-dry their flesh. Their skins added somewhat to the comfort of her hut. For three weary months the poor widow, with her orphans, dragged on a sad existence. She saw her stock of food decreasing, and she might have to travel far on foot before she could reach a place where more could be obtained. May had arrived, and there was no time to be lost; so, packing the remainder of her horse-flesh, with as many of her blankets, and buffalo-robes, and other articles as she could carry, with her youngest child on her back, while she led the other, she commenced her weary march across that wild region of mountains, forests, and streams now known as British Columbia. To no human being had she spoken since her husband's dying comrade warned her to fly.
For days she toiled on over the rough ground, often having to carry the little Moolak, in addition to his sister. She had barely food sufficient for another day, when several grey wreaths of smoke ascending from a valley told her that a band of friends or foes were encamped below. She hesitated to approach them. ”They may be foes; and if they are, will they spare me, wretched though I am?” she said to herself.
She looked at her children. ”I have no more food for them; I must venture on.”
Emerging from a thick wood, she saw close before her a large encampment.
She staggered forward, and stood trembling amid the camp. A chief stepped forward from his wigwam and listened to her tale, which was soon told.
”You shall be a sister to us,” he answered. ”Your people are our friends, and, still more, are your husband's people. I will be as a father to your children. Fear not, sister. Here you shall find rest, and shelter, and food.”
The chief kept to his word, and the poor widow was treated with the greatest kindness by him and his people. The summer came, and a brigade of the company's trading canoes pa.s.sed down the river. The people landed, and spoke to her. She was known to several of them, and they invited her to accompany them. The Indians entreated her to remain with them. She thanked them and said, ”No, I will go with my husband's people. When I wedded him I became one of them. I wish, also, that his children should become like them, and be brought up in the faith to which he held.”
Wis.h.i.+ng, therefore, the kind Indians farewell, she accompanied the voyageurs; and in the far-off settlement to the east, where she ultimately took up her abode under a Christian missionary, she herself learned more clearly to comprehend the truths of the Gospel whose gracious offers she had embraced, while by all around she was respected and beloved.
CHAPTER ELEVEN.
THE TRAWLERS, A TALE OF THE NORTH SEA
THE NORTH SEA FLEET--SUNDAY AT THE FIs.h.i.+NG GROUND--THE MISSIONARY SERVICE--THE GALE--A MISHAP TO THE SEA-GULL AND HER CAPTAIN--A CRASH-- THE CAPTAIN'S DEATH--ALL LOST BUT TWO BOYS--DOING ONE'S DUTY--MORNING-- ALONE WITH A DEAD MAN--BREAKFAST--TO THE PUMPS--SAVED AT LAST.
A fleet of a hundred vessels or more lay together, dotting the surface of the German Ocean, or North Sea, as it is more generally called, upwards of 300 miles from the English sh.o.r.e. They were mostly luggers, of from sixty to eighty tons; each with a crew of from seven to nine men. These vessels formed a part of the North Sea fis.h.i.+ng fleet, chiefly belonging to Great Yarmouth and the adjacent ports, engaged in trawling for turbot, soles, brill, and other flat fish, for the supply of the London market.
They had been out there for nearly three weeks, their wants being supplied, and the fish they had caught being taken away from them by several large cutters, which came out from Yarmouth laden with ice, in which the fish were packed, and thus conveyed to the Thames, or to the nearest railway terminus--thence to be transported to London, and dispersed by similar means all over the country. It was Sunday: some of the vessels had their sails set and their trawls down, their crews in their dirty week-day dresses standing ready to haul them on board.
Other vessels, which had drawn close together, had their sails furled, their anchors down, and their trawl-nets hung up in the rigging to dry.
A flag was flying at the mainmast-head on board two of them. The device was a figure with wings, and an open book with golden leaves in its hand, on a blue ground, and underneath, the words ”Missions to Seamen.”
These two vessels were somewhat apart, and boats from the others were pulling towards them. On board one of the other vessels--the _Sea-gull_--the crew were collected on deck, in their clean clothing, maybe not so neat and new as they might have worn on sh.o.r.e, however.
The boat was alongside; the captain came on deck.
”Well, lads, who'll go with me to wors.h.i.+p G.o.d with our fellow-Christians?” he asked.
”What's come over the old man, of late?” growled out one of the roughest-looking of the crew. ”We used to do very well without all this praying and preaching; and I don't see what good it'll do us.”
One or two laughed: but no one answered.
”You'll go, father,” said a young lad, Robby Starling, addressing another of the men. ”You can't tell what beautiful things are said; and then there's praying and singing; it does one's heart good to hear them sing. Come, father; come.”
”It's time to shove off, lads,” said the old captain, looking round to see who would go.
Robby again pleaded with his father, who at length stepped into the boat with two other men, his son, another lad, and the captain.
The weather was calm and fine, so that it allowed of an awning to be stretched over the deck, under which seats were arranged for the accommodation of thirty or forty persons. The sailor missionary, who acted as mate of the missionary fis.h.i.+ng-vessel, after appropriate prayers had been offered up and psalms sung, urged his hearers, in a loving manner, to accept the gracious offer of salvation while there was yet time.
All were impressed with this address; no one more so than Rob Starling's father and the other men from the _Sea-gull_. Before leaving the vessel the elder Starling went to the missionary, begged him for his prayers, told him how heartily sorry he was for all his sins, and yet that he was sure his loving Saviour would wash them all away.
Notwithstanding the calmness of the morning, there had been indications all day of a change of weather; and just as the sun went down, the admiral (for so the most experienced captain of the fleet elected to that post is called) hoisted the signal for the vessels to return to port. As the fleet had a week or more to remain out, he had been unwilling to make the signal, though it might have been better had he done so earlier; but even the most experienced are at times mistaken as to the weather at sea.
Those who had been trawling all day hauled their trawls on board; and those which had been brought up, lifted their anchors, and all made sail together.