In Eastern Seas | Page 4

attention. She had no thought, however, for any one round her, but endeavoured to look down into the boat to watch her companions. The sick man was next hoisted up; the boy, till he was safe, refusing to leave the boat. He then, aided by Dick Tarbox, hauled himself up on deck.
"We will carry him aft, and take him at once to my cabin," said the captain. "He looks very ill."
This was done; the young people keeping by the sick man's side, anxiously gazing on his countenance, apparently scarcely aware where they were, and paying no attention to any one else.
"Is he your father, young gentleman?" asked the captain, as the sick man was placed on the bed.
"Oh yes, yes!" answered the boy. "But can you do nothing for him? He is, I am afraid, very, very ill."
At that moment the surgeon, who had been attending on a patient below, came up, and entering the cabin, looked at the sick man's countenance and felt his pulse. The look he gave the captain was observed by the little girl: she seemed to understand it.
"Oh do, sir, tell me what is the matter with him! Will he die?" she asked, bursting into tears.
"There is no time to be lost," observed the surgeon, hurrying away to his own cabin without answering the question.
"Our lives are in God's hands, young lady," said the captain, in a kind tone. "The doctor will do all he can for your papa; be assured of that."
The surgeon instantly returned with a restorative; after taking which the sick man recovered slightly, and was able to utter a few words in a faint voice. He recognised his children, and beckoned them to approach.
"I am leaving you, I fear," he whispered; "for I feel as I have never felt before. Walter, take care of Emily; never leave her. Think of your dear mother and me sometimes." Then he turned his glance towards the captain. "These, sir, will be orphans before many hours have passed," he said, in a faltering voice. "You, perhaps, are a father, and can feel for me. As a fellow-creature, you can do so. You have been the means of preserving the lives of those children; watch over them, and do what you can for them. They will tell you about themselves. I cannot speak more."
While he was uttering these words, he seemed about to relapse into a state of insensibility. His eye was growing dim. He stretched out his hands, however, and took those of his children; and thus, almost without uttering another word, his spirit passed away.
"We will leave your father now," said the surgeon; and made a sign to the captain, who led the boy and girl out of the cabin.
The boy seemed to understand what had happened; but there was an anxious, scared, and inquiring expression on the countenance of the little girl, which showed that even now she was not certain that her father had been taken from her.
Captain Davenport was a father, and a kind, affectionate one, and knew how to sympathise with the bereaved children. He had been in the cabin but a few minutes when a midshipman entered.
"She is sinking, sir!" he exclaimed.
Captain Davenport hurried on deck. The boy had caught the words, and followed him. Just then Merlin uttered a low, mournful howl. They were just in time to see the after-part of the dismasted ship, as, plunging head first, she went down beneath the foaming billows.
"We were but just in time to save you, my lad," said the captain, turning to the boy, whose hand Merlin was licking, as if to congratulate him on his escape.
"Indeed you were, sir," answered the boy; "and we are very, very grateful to you, and to that brave sailor who carried my father and Emily out of the ship, and helped me into the boat. I want to thank him more particularly, and so would my father; but oh, sir, do you think he will soon recover out of that fearful swoon? Or do, do tell me, for I did not like to ask you before my sister, is he--is he really--dead?"
The boy's voice dropped as he spoke.
"I fear, Walter, that he is dead," answered the captain. "But we will do our best to comfort your little sister; and so, I am sure, will you. You have reason to be thankful that he was permitted thus to die quietly in bed, and to know that your lives were spared."
"Oh yes, yes! I know," answered the boy, hiding his face in his hands.
It was some hours before Emily could understand that her father could never again speak to her or caress her. Her brother's anxiety to console her probably prevented him from so poignantly feeling his own loss.
The captain and all on board