Part 8 (1/2)

”It will soon be over,” said Mr. Holmes in a voice so despairing that it rang in the ears of John Stevens to his dying day. ”Crew and pa.s.sengers are nearly all gone, and my turn will come soon.”

Even as he spoke, the purser, two men and four women were washed overboard, their drowning screams mingling with the hollow roars of the ocean.

”Take her! take her!” cried Mr. Holmes frantically. ”I resign her to you. I am going; I can hold out no longer.”

A wave more terrible than any that had preceded it at this moment seemed to bury the s.h.i.+p, which was driving straight toward the unknown sh.o.r.e.

Instinctively John wound one arm about the girl and held to the capstan with the other. It seemed an age, and he was almost on the point of relaxing his hold on the capstan, when they once more rose above the water, and he got a breath of air. He still clung to Blanche in despair, though she lay so limp in his arms that he thought her dead.

It was now dark, for night had fallen upon the awful scene. A flash of lightning illuminated the wreck, Mr. Holmes was gone, and Stevens could not see another soul on the vessel. The wild roar of surf fell on his ears, and a moment later he felt the bottom of the s.h.i.+p grating on the sands. It seemed to glide further and further on the beach, as if the s.h.i.+p were being lifted and driven inland. The tide was at the full, and the wind was blowing a hurricane on sh.o.r.e, so that the wreck was driven far up on the beach, and at low tide it was high and dry.

John Stevens remained by the capstan, as it was highest point, holding Blanche in his arms long after the s.h.i.+p had settled in the sands. The waves leaped and raved angrily below; but not a human voice was heard.

He asked himself if Blanche were dead or living. At last he felt her move and, placing his hand on her heart, was rejoiced to know that it still beat.

”Father--father!” she faintly murmured.

”He is gone,” John answered.

”Is this you?” she asked.

”Yes.”

”Cling to me.”

”I will. We will survive or perish together.”

Then she became silent, and the night grew blacker, while the storm howled; but the waves receded with the ebbing tide, and the broken hulk remained fast fixed in the sands. The poor girl s.h.i.+vered all through that night and clung to her preserver. She did not weep at the loss of her father, for the horror of their situation dried the fountains of grief. All night long the warring elements raged about the remaining castaways, who clung with the tenacity of despair to the wreck.

CHAPTER V.

JOHN STEVENS' CHARGE.

The fair wind blew, the white foam flew, The furrow followed free; We were the first that ever burst Into that silent sea.

Down dropped the breeze, the sails dropped down, 'Twas sad as sad could be; And we did speak only to break The silence of the sea.

--COLERIDGE.

Since the art of navigation became known, there have been castaways in romance and reality without number. De Foe's celebrated Robinson Crusoe stands first, but not alone among the s.h.i.+pwrecked mariners of truth and fiction. How many countless thousands have suffered s.h.i.+pwreck and disaster at sea, whose wild narratives have never been recorded, will never be known.

John Stevens was not a reader of romance and poetry, which at his age were in their infancy in Virginia. The hardy pioneers of the New World were kept too busy fighting Indians and building plantations and cities to read romance or history. Consequently he had no similar adventures to compare with his own. John had enough of the st.u.r.dy Puritan in his nature to deeply feel the duty inc.u.mbent on him, and enough of the cavalier to be a gentleman, unselfish and kind.

Throughout the long night he held the half inanimate form of Blanche in his arms. The storm abated and the tide running out left the vessel imbedded in the sands. John watched for the coming morn as a condemned criminal looks for a pardon. He knew no cast nor west in the darkness; but anon the sea and sky in a certain place became brighter and brighter. The clouds rolled away, and he saw the bright morning star fade, as the sable cloak of night was rent to admit the new born day.

Blanche sat up and, gazed over the scene as the flas.h.i.+ng rays of sunlight gleamed over the sea and sh.o.r.e.

”Are we all?” she asked.

”Yes.”