II.
_AT SEA._
“Are we at sea now, papa?” said Maggie, holding by her father’s hand asshe jumped up and down on the deck of the steamer; “are we really atsea?”
“Hardly at sea yet, little daughter: we are still going down the bay.When we are fairly at sea we shall lose sight of our own great city,where we have left grandmamma and the boys, and all the other dearones.”
“Yes,” said Bessie, who was by no means in such overflowing spiritsas Maggie; “it’s rather sorrowful to leave so many of our own peoplebehind us. I wish everybody could have come with us.”
“Then we’d have no one to write to,” said Maggie, who found consolationin all partings in the thought of letter-writing, in which shedelighted.
“But, papa, will you tell us when we are really and truly at sea?”
“You’ll be apt to know that without telling, little maiden,” said agentleman who was passing: “we have had high winds the last three days,and shall find it rough enough outside, I take it;” and he passed on.
“Who’s that, papa?” asked Bessie.
“That is the captain,” said Mr. Bradford.
“What a nice face he has,” said the little girl.
“What did he mean by ‘outside’?” asked Maggie.
“He meant outside of the bay or harbor. We are going now throughwhat is called the Narrows, then we shall pass Sandy Hook, where thelight-house is, and be fairly out at sea.”
“And what did he mean by ‘rough’?” asked Maggie.
“Well, he meant the waves might be rather high, and toss and roll theship about more than you would find quite comfortable.”
“Oh! I shan’t mind it,” said Maggie. “It will be fun.”
“He meant you’d be seasick,” said Belle, with a wise shake of her head.
“I don’t believe he ever meant that,” answered Maggie, in a tone whichsaid she considered the idea almost an insult. “He must see how welland strong I look.”
“I hope you may be able to keep to your determination, my little girl,”said her father, smiling.
“Why, is this what people make such a fuss about?” said Maggie, whensome time after the threatened rolling and pitching began: “I think itis lovely. But, then, papa,” she added presently, “perhaps it would benicer if you would ask that good-natured-looking captain not to let theship do it quite so much. It seems to make my head so very _bobbly_.”
“The captain cannot help it, dear,” said her father, looking half inpity, half in amusement, at the face which Maggie was making suchdesperate efforts to keep smiling and unconcerned. “The waves roll thevessel about in this way, and you know the captain does not rule them.We must bear it as we can; but I hope by and by you will become used toit, and not mind it so much.”
“Oh! I don’t _mind_ it, papa,” said Maggie, still determined that theserolling waves should not conquer her; “at least not so very much, andI’m not a bit seasick; only--only--I don’t think the sea is quite sovery comfortable to be on as the land: do you?”
Hapless little Maggie! Half an hour more, and the “bobbly” head layin mamma’s lap, hands and feet hung helplessly, chattering tongue wasstill, save for an occasional piteous, “O mamma!” and the merry dancingeyes, usually so wide-open and quick to notice all around them, wereclosed as though they never cared to lift their lids again. Even thenew satchel had lost its charm, and hung unheeded at her side. Itscherished contents, which she had intended to be of so much use toothers, proved of none to herself. Lemons, smelling salts, hartshorn,and many other remedies, were tried without success; and it would havebeen hard to find a more wretched little girl than was poor Maggie,for the next twenty-four hours. Belle and Lily were too ill themselvesto feel at all inclined to triumph over the failure of Maggie’s“determination;” though I do not think they would have been unkindenough to do so, had they been ever so well.
As for Bessie, she made what the captain called “a capital littlesailor,” and to her fell the part of nurse, which Maggie had intendedto fill. And never was a more gentle, tender, thoughtful youngnurse than our little “princess,” handy and knowing enough forseven-and-twenty instead of seven years old. Now she was rubbingMaggie’s cold hands, now bathing Belle’s dizzy, aching head with suchsoothing fingers; now coaxing Lily to take one of those oranges whichwere to work such wonders; now amusing baby, for Mammy was in a badway too, and mamma’s attention was pretty well taken up with her poorMaggie; now showing a picture-book to some fretful child whose motherwas too ill to attend to it. Always ready not only to do, but to seewhere and how she could do, some small service for a sufferer, she wentabout from one to another like some dainty little fairy, with a missionof healing and kindness. So long as she could keep her feet, which wasnot always possible, the rolling of the ship only troubled her by thedistress it brought to others, especially Maggie; but all her pleasurein her beloved sea was lost in her sympathy for her sister. It was sostrange and unusual to see Maggie lying helpless and subdued, with nothought or care for any thing about her, that it made Bessie herselfvery miserable; and she could scarcely believe her father’s assurancesthat Maggie was not going to die, and would probably soon feel better.
But she thought despair and misery could go no farther upon thefollowing morning, when, having dressed Margaret Bessie Marion andMargaret Colonel Horace Rush in the new travelling suits Aunt Annie hadmade for them, and combed their “real live hair,” she brought them andplaced one on each side of Maggie, as she lay among the pile of pillowsand shawls papa had arranged for her upon the deck.
“Maggie dear,” she said coaxingly, “would it not comfort you a littleto hold Bessie Margaret Marion? She looks so sweet.”
“No,” moaned Maggie, without opening her eyes: “I never want her again,Bessie, never. You can have her.”
“Oh, no!” said Bessie, cheerily: “you’ll want her when you feel better,and I hope that will be pretty soon.”
“No,” said Maggie again: “I’ll never be better. And, Bessie, I thinkI’d better tell you my will. I’m too sick to write it myself, but youcan remember.”
“But you’re not going to die,” answered Bessie, dropping the doll uponher lap and looking at Maggie in fresh dismay.
“Yes, I feel it,” said Maggie, with a tragic whisper and shake of herhead.
“Oh, no, dear! Papa said not, and the doctor said so too. They saidpeople hardly ever died of seasickness.”
“Then I’m one of the ‘hardly evers,’ Bessie,” persisted Maggie,seeming, poor child, to find some relief in the idea; “and I’dbetter make my will, and tell you who I want my playthings and other_possessings_ to go to.”
Bessie did not know whether to be most alarmed at Maggie’s words, orconsoled by her belief that her father and the doctor must know best;and she listened in silence while Maggie went on, speaking slowly andwith many pauses.
“You can have all my dolls, Bessie, ’cept Josephine Matilda, and she’llbe good for Baby, ’cause she’s Indian rubber and can’t be broken; andmamma my prize writing-desk, and papa my new satchel; and my doll’s teaset, the white and gilt one for you, and the blue one for Lily; samewith the dinner-sets--only, red for Belle--and my tin kitchen too--oh!I can’t tell any more--oh! mamma--mamma!” and here poor Maggie’s willcame abruptly to an end.
But things brightened towards the latter part of that day, for theycame into smoother waters; and Maggie, as well as all the other seasickpassengers, began to feel easier.
“Hallo!” said the captain, pausing as he came by to look at the little,pale, tired face upon the pillows: “is this the jolly little woman whocame on board yesterday afternoon? Why, this will not do. I shall haveto take her in hand myself, Mrs. Bradford: will you let me turn doctor?”
“Most certainly, Captain, if you can do any thing to relieve her. Everything seems to fail except time and patience, and of the last my poorchild has shown a fair sample,” answered the anxious mother.
With a nod to Maggie, who, at the
sound of his hearty, cheery voicehad half opened her eyes to look at him, and another to Bessie, who satupon the edge of her sister’s couch, he walked away; coming back aftera little while, followed by the steward carrying a small tray. On thetray were two plates, the one holding a crisp slice of brown toast; theother, something which Bessie thought very uninviting, a dry, ratherblack-looking herring.
“I wonder if he is going to ask Maggie to eat that thing,” she said toherself. “Idea of it! I know she never can do it. I’m afraid he’s notso very nice as he looks, and that he has very poor sense.”
But the captain asked Maggie nothing about the herring; but, sittingdown beside her, he took the tray from the steward, and cutting a smallbit from the fish, he held it to Maggie’s lips. Maggie turned away herhead in disgust, in which Bessie sympathized.
“Come, come,” said the captain, “every one has to do as I say on thisship, especially when I turn doctor.”
He did not smile, though he looked as good-natured and pleasantas ever; and, doubtful if he were in joke or in earnest, Maggiereluctantly took the bit of fish from the fork, and then a mouthful ofthe toast, which she swallowed with the same martyr-like air. Anotherand another followed, taken with less and less reluctance; till atlast Bessie was surprised to see Maggie’s eyes remain open, and fixthemselves rather longingly upon the plate, as if she wished thecaptain would make the intervals shorter. He took no notice, however,but fed her slowly, till fish and toast had both entirely disappeared,when he said,--
“I think we shall do now. I’ll be back in half an hour, Mrs. Bradford,to see how my patient here is getting on,” and walked away.
“Maggie,” said Bessie, as soon as he had gone, “wasn’t that meal verynas--, I mean rather disagreeable?”
“Why, no,” said Maggie, “it was delicious; and I think that captain islovely, Bessie. He’s the best doctor ever I saw. The next time I cometo sea--which I hope I never will again--I’ll put herring in my satchel’stead of lemons. They never did me a bit of good.”
Bessie privately thought this worse than the “pickle arrangement;” butsince the captain’s prescription had done Maggie so much good, shehad nothing more to say against it or him; and when he came back atthe promised time it was to find his little patient beginning to looklike herself, and talking and smiling with something of her accustomedbrightness.
This was the last of Maggie’s seasickness, and by the next morning shewas nearly as lively and well as usual; though she now and then fellinto a fit of thought, as if she were considering some knotty question;and she was observed to regard Margaret Bessie Marion with more thanusual interest, and to give her a great amount of petting and tending.At length the question which was weighing on her mind found words.
“Papa,” she said, “don’t lawyers know about wills?”
“They ought to, Maggie,” answered Mr. Bradford. “Why, you don’t want tomake yours, do you?”
“I have made it, papa,” said Maggie, with all the gravity of a judge.“I told Bessie about it, but I want to know if it’s against the law toundo the things you’ve willed, if you don’t die when you thought youwere going to.”
“Not at all,” said papa, laughing: “you may make your will, and ‘undoit’ as often as you please, while you are living.”
“For the people won’t be disappointed as long as they don’t know you’vewilled them the things,” said Maggie, meditatively. “Anyhow, I s’posemy people would be more disappointed to have me die, than not to havemy things.”
“They would indeed, little daughter,” said her father, drawing hertenderly to him: “to lose our Maggie would be to take a great deal ofsunshine out of the lives of ‘your people.’”
“And I know Bessie don’t care for my dollies so long as we can playwith them together: do you, Bessie?”
“Oh, no! Maggie; and if I hadn’t you, I should never play again, but besorrowful all my life;” and Bessie put on an air of extreme melancholyat the bare idea of such a possibility.
So this matter being settled to the satisfaction of all, and Maggiefeeling like her own self once more, she and Bessie were free to enjoyall the new pleasures about them.
They were a merry, happy party, those four little girls, Maggie,Bessie, Belle, and Lily; always pleasant and good-natured withone another; never fretting or quarrelling in their play. Asfor Maggie, her new friend the captain used to call her “LittleMake-the-best-of-it;” for her sunny temper found so much good in allthings, and so many reasons why all that was, was best.
He escorted the young quartette all over the steamer, taking them downinto the machine rooms, where they saw the great furnaces glowingwith hot coals, and tended by strong men in scarlet shirts, withtheir sleeves rolled up to the shoulders; where the iron beam andpistons went up and down, up and down, without a moment’s pause orirregularity; where each little wheel and joint went steadily on doingits appointed work, without which the huge machinery must have stoodmotionless and useless.
The sympathies of the children, especially those of Maggie, weregreatly excited in behalf of a man whom they saw watching the steamdial plates at the upper end of the engine room. There were three ofthese plates, the centre one very large, the other two smaller; and theman paced up and down the narrow platform in front, almost without amoment’s pause, turning his eyes every now and then to the dials.
“What funny clocks,” said Bessie, “and how that man watches them! Whyis he so anxious about the time?”
“Only one of them is a clock,” said the captain; “the others are toshow how much steam we have on, and how it is working, and if all isright.”
Bessie did not understand, and said so; and the captain, taking her upin his arms, tried to explain the use and working of the dials to thelittle girls; but it was rather a difficult matter for them to take in,and I do not know that he made it very clear to them.
“But I want to know about that man,” said Maggie: “does he have to walkhere and look at these things all the time?”
“All the time,” said Captain Brooks.
“Doesn’t he eat and sleep?” asked Belle.
“Oh! to be sure,” said the captain. “I said he was here all the time;but I should have said a man was here all the time; for there isanother who takes his turn while this one rests.”
“But are you not tired sometimes?” Bessie asked of the man, who justthen came to the end of the platform where she was.
He nodded assent as he turned, but made no answer in words, did noteven smile, being a grum-looking man, and seeming altogether intent onhis dials.
“He’s not very polite just to nod at you and not speak,” said Lily.
“It is against the rule of the ship for him to talk while he is onduty, and he always keeps the rule,” said the captain.
“Oh!” said Maggie, her pity more than ever roused for the object ofher interest: “does he have to walk on this little bit of a place withnothing to amuse him, and can’t even talk? I think that is pretty hard:_I_ never could do it.”
“But if he were talking and chatting with every one who came along, andthinking only of his own amusement, he would forget his work and havehis attention taken off from those plates which it is his business towatch constantly,” said the captain.
“And then we’d be blown up or burnt up or drowned or something,” saidMaggie.
“Not as bad as that, I hope,” said Captain Brooks, smiling; “butsomething might readily go wrong before he perceived it.”
“It seems like watching conscience all the time for fear we dosomething naughty,” said Bessie, who had been thoughtfully regardingthe man since she last spoke. “If we forget conscience, or don’t payattention where it points, we can be naughty before we know it.”
“Just so,” said the captain, looking at her half in amusement, half insurprise; “but tell me, little one, do you find some moral lesson inevery thing?”
“I don’t know what ‘moral’ is, sir,” said Bessie, demurely; “but Ithink that man is a pret
ty good lesson to us.”
Here roguish Lily, for whom the prospect of being “blown up or burntup or drowned or something,” did not seem to have any terrors, and whohad been all this time trying to distract the watchman’s attention byshaking her head and finger at him, flirting her pocket-handkerchief,and giving little squeaks and “hems,” all without any avail, suddenlyastonished him and accomplished her object, by firing a paper pelletwhich hit him directly between the eyes. The gruff old fellow onlygave her a growl in return, however, and recommenced his pacing up anddown; but Lily went capering about in an ecstasy of delight at herunlooked-for success, till the captain, who could not help laughing,called her to order with,--
“Here, here, you elf! have done with your monkey tricks, or I shallshut you up in a cage till we get to shore.”
“You’ve none large enough,” said laughing Lily.
“There are plenty of hencoops on board,” said the captain, pretendingto look fierce, “and carpenters too, to make any sized cage I mayorder. You had better look out.”
“I don’t think it’s fair to tease the poor man,” said Bessie, “he hasto be so stupid all the time, and he is so dutiful too. Let’s go away,Captain Brooks, and not let him be teased any more.”
So the captain took them away in search of other novelties; but Maggieand Bessie did not forget “the poor, stupid man,” as the latter calledhim, meaning only that she thought he passed his time in such a dull,uninteresting manner; and they set their young wits to work to see ifthey could not do him some kindness.
“I don’t see the good of it,” said Lily. “The captain said he was asurly old fellow, any way, and didn’t care to talk much when he could.I guess we’d better just let him alone.”
“We oughtn’t to judge by appearances,” said Maggie, gravely. “Bessieand I have learned that.”
“But not till we’d performed some pretty bad mistakes,” said Bessie:“so take a lesson of us.”
“Tell us about them,” said Belle; and accordingly Belle and Lily weremuch interested in hearing of Lem and the silver cup, and of AuntPatty; Maggie also confessing how she had for a long time misjudgedMrs. Jones, of Quam Beach, because she had a disagreeable manner.