Saved by the Lifeboat | Page 6

old woman, may turn out to be mistaken. I am on the point of hasting down to the shore to ascertain the truth for myself, but am obliged to write to you this brief and unsatisfactory account of what I have heard, in order to save the post, which is just being closed. You shall hear from me again, of course, by the next mail.--I remain, my dear sir, in much anxiety, your most obedient humble servant,
"JOSEPH DOWLER."
It chanced that at the moment the above letter was handed to the postmaster, and while the wax was being melted before the final sealing of the post-bag, a sailor lad, drenched to the skin and panting vehemently, dashed into the office.
"Stop! stop!" he cried, "a letter--about the wreck--the Water Lily--to the owners--not too late, I hope?"
"No, no, just in time. Here, in with it. There, all right. Now, Jim, off with 'ee."
The postman jumped on his vehicle, the whip cracked, and in another minute the Royal Mail was gone. Thus it came to pass that two epistles reached Mr Webster that morning from Covelly. But in the extreme agitation of his spirit, he did not observe the other letter which lay among the usual morning mass that still awaited examination. After reading the letter twice, and turning it over with trembling hands, as if he wished there were more in it, he pronounced a deep malediction on his "humble" friend, and rang the bell for his confidential clerk, who was an unusually meek, mild, and middle-aged little man, with a bald head, a deprecatory expression of countenance, and a pen behind his ear.
"Mr Grinder," said Mr Webster, putting strong constraint on himself, and pretending to be quite composed, "a letter from Covelly informs me that it is feared the Water Lily has been wrecked in--"
"The Water Lily, sir!" exclaimed Grinder, starting as if he had received an electric shock.
"I spoke audibly, did I not?" said Mr Webster, turning with a sharp look on his confidential clerk.
"Ye-es, sir, but, I--Miss An--" The poor man could get no further, being of a timid, nervous temperament, and Mr Webster, paying no attention to his remark, was going on to say that he intended to go by the mail to Covelly without delay to ascertain the truth for himself, when he was interrupted by the confidential clerk who exclaimed in a burst of agitation--
"There were two letters, sir, from Covelly this morning--did you read--"
He stopped, for already his employer had sought for, found, and torn open the second epistle, which was written in a fair, legible hand. It ran thus:--
"SIR,--My father, Captain Boyns, directs me to inform you that your daughter, Miss Annie, has been saved from the wreck of your brig, the Water Lily, which ran aground here this afternoon, and has become a total wreck. Your daughter's nurse and the crew have also been rescued by our new lifeboat, which is a noble craft, and, with God's blessing, will yet do good service on this coast. I have pleasure in adding, from myself, that it was my father who rescued your child. She fell into the sea when being passed from the wreck into the boat, and sank, but my father dived and brought her up in safety.
"Much of the brig's cargo has been lost, I regret to say, but a good deal of it has been washed ashore and saved in a damaged state. The captain says that defective compasses were the cause of the disaster. There is not time to give you a more particular account, as it is close upon post-time. Miss Annie sends you her kindest love, and bids me say she is none the worse of what she has passed through.--I am, sir, your obedient servant,
"HARRY BOYNS."
"Thank God!" exclaimed Mr Webster fervently. "Why, what are you staring at, Mr Grinder?" he added, on observing that his confidential servant was gazing at him with an expression of considerable surprise.
"Excuse me, sir," stammered the unfortunate man, "I--I--in fact--you have so often told me that you did not believe in God that I fancied-- I--wondered--"
"Really, Mr Grinder, I must beg of you to confine your remarks in future entirely to matters of business. The so-called religious observations which you sometimes venture to make in my presence are extremely distasteful, I assure you. In explanation of what I said, however, I may tell you that this letter informs me of my daughter's safety, and I merely used the expression of satisfaction that is usual on such occasions. The phrase, as it is generally understood (except by weak men), commits me to nothing more. But enough of this. I find that the Water Lily has indeed been lost. It was fully insured, I believe?"
"Yes, sir, it was."
"Very well; report the matter without delay. I