I see the golden
hair and the innocent face now, between me
and the driving clouds, like an Angel going
to fly away.
It had happened on the second day, towards
night, that Mrs. Atherfield, in getting Little
Lucy to sleep, sang her a song. She had a
soft, melodious voice, and, when she had
finished it, our people up and begged for
another. She sang them another, and
after it had fallen dark ended with the
Evening Hymn. From that time, whenever
anything could be heard above the sea and
wind, and while she had any voice left, nothing
would serve the people but that she should
sing at sunset. She always did, and always
ended with the Evening Hymn. We mostly
took up the last line, and shed tears when it
was done, but not miserably. We had
a prayer night and morning, also, when the
weather allowed of it.
Twelve nights and eleven days we had been
driving in the boat, when old Mr. Rarx began
to be delirious, and to cry out to me to throw
the gold overboard or it would sink us, and
we should all be lost. For days past the child
had been declining, and that was the great
cause of his wildness. He had been over and
over again shrieking out to me to give her
all the remaining meat, to give her all the
remaining rum, to save her at any cost, or we
should all be ruined. At this time, she lay in
her mother’s arms at my feet. One of her
little hands was almost always creeping
about her mother’s neck or chin. I had
watched the wasting of the little hand, and I
knew it was nearly over.
The old man’s cries were so discordant
with the mother’s love and submission, that
I called out to him in an angry voice, unless
he held his peace on the instant, I would
order him to be knocked on the head and
thrown overboard. He was mute then, until
the child died, very peacefully, an hour afterwards:
which was known to all in the boat
by the mother’s breaking out into lamentations
for the first time since the wreck—for, she
had great fortitude and constancy, though
she was a little gentle woman. Old Mr.
Rarx then became quite ungovernable, tearing
what rags he had on him, raging in imprecations,
and calling to me that if I had
thrown the gold overboard (always the gold
with him!) I might have saved the child,
“And now,” says he, in a terrible voice,
“we shall founder, and all go to the
Devil, for our sins will sink us, when we have
no innocent child to bear us up!” We so
discovered with amazement, that this old
wretch had only cared for the life of the
pretty little creature dear to all of us, because
of the influence he superstitiously hoped she
might have in preserving him! Altogether
it was too much for the smith or armourer,
who was sitting next the old man, to bear.
He took him by the throat and rolled him
under the thwarts, where he lay still enough
for hours afterwards.
All that thirteenth night, Miss Coleshaw,
lying across my knees as I kept the helm,
comforted and supported the poor mother.
Her child, covered with a pea-jacket of mine,
lay in her lap. It troubled me all night to
think that there was no Prayer-Book among
us, and that I could remember but very few
of the exact words of the burial service.
When I stood up at broad day, all knew
what was going to be done, and I noticed
that my poor fellows made the motion of
uncovering their heads, though their heads
had been stark bare to the sky and sea for
many a weary hour. There was a long heavy
swell on, but otherwise it was a fair morning,
and there were broad fields of sunlight on the
waves in the east. I said no more than this.
“I am the Resurrection and the Life, saith
the Lord. He raised the daughter of Jairus
the ruler, and said she was not dead but
slept. He raised the widow’s son. He arose
himself, and was seen of many. He loved
little children, saying Suffer them to come
unto me and rebuke them not, for of such is
the kingdom of Heaven. In His name, my
friends, and committed to His merciful goodness!”
With those words I laid my rough
face softly on the placid little forehead, and
buried the Golden Lucy in the grave of the
Golden Mary.