A Sailors Lass | Page 6

intimation they had had that
the child could talk, although Mrs. Coomber fancied that she had
showed some signs of recognising her during the previous day.
"I say, did you hear that?" whispered Dick. "Was she saying her
prayers, mother, like Harry Hayes does?"
Mrs. Coomber nodded, while she looked down into the child's face and
moved her gently to and fro to soothe her to sleep.
"But, mother, ought she to say that? Did you hear her? She said 'dear
God,'" said Dick, creeping round to his mother's side.
Mrs. Coomber was puzzled herself at the child's words. They had
awakened in her a far-off memory of days when she was a girl, and
knelt at her mother's knee, and said, "Our Father," before she went to
bed. But that was long before she had heard of Bermuda Point, or
thought of having boys and girls of her own. When they came she had
forgotten all about those early days; and so they had never been taught
to say their prayers, or anything else, in fact, except to help their father
with the boat, shoot wild-fowl in the winter, and gather samphire on the
shore during the summer.
She thought of this now, and half wished she had thought of it before.
Perhaps if she had tried to teach her children to pray, they would have
been more of a comfort to her. Perhaps Jack, her eldest, would not have
run away from home as he did, leaving them for years to wonder

whether he was alive or dead, but sending no word to comfort them.
The boys were almost as perplexed as their mother. The little they had
heard of God filled them with terror, and so to hear such a prayer as
this was something so startling that they could think and talk of nothing
else until their father came in, when, as usual, silence fell on the whole
family, for Coomber was in a sullen mood now.
The next day Tiny, as she had called herself, was decidedly better. A
little bed had been made up for her in the family living-room, and she
lay there, quiet but observant, while Mrs. Coomber went about her
work--cooking and cleaning and mending, and occasionally stopping to
kiss the little wistful face that watched her with such quiet curiosity.
"Am I in a s'ip now?" the child asked at length, when Mrs. Coomber
had kissed her several times.
"You're in a boat, deary; but you needn't be afraid; our boat is safe
enough."
"I ain't afraid; Dod is tatin' tare of me," said the child, with a little sigh.
Mrs. Coomber wondered whether she was thinking of the storm;
whether she could tell them who she was, and where her friends might
be found; and she ventured to ask her several questions about this, but
failed to elicit any satisfactory answer. The child was sleepy, or had
forgotten what Mrs. Coomber thought she would be sure to remember;
but it was evident she had taken notice of her surroundings during the
last few days, for after a little while she said, "Where's der boys--dat
Dick and Tom?"
Mrs. Coomber was amused. "They're out in the boat looking after the
nets," she said.
"When they toming home?" asked the little girl; "home to dis boat, I
mean," she added.
"Oh, they'll come soon," replied Mrs. Coomber. "But, now, can't you

tell me something about your mother and father, and where you lived,
my deary?" she asked again.
"I tomed in a s'ip, and 'ou my mammy now," said the child, looking
round the cosy room with perfect content.
"But where is your own mammy, who taught you to say your prayers?"
asked Mrs. Coomber.
The tears came into the sweet blue eyes for a minute as she said, "See
dorn up dere, to tay in Dod's house, and Tiny do too if see a dood dal."
Mrs. Coomber laid down the jacket she was patching, and kissed the
serious little face. "Is your mother dead, my deary?" she asked, while
the tears shone in her own eyes.
"See done to see daddy, and tell him about Tiny," answered the child;
from which Mrs. Coomber gathered that mother and father were both
dead; and when her husband came home she told him what she had
heard, which seemed to afford the old fisherman a good deal of
satisfaction.
"Then she's ours safe enough, mother," he said, rubbing his hands, "and
when she gets well she'll toddle about the old boat like our own little
Polly did."
"But I thought you said Peters was going to see the newspaper man to
tell him to put something in the Stamford Mercury about finding her, so
that her friends should know she was saved, and come