The Rocky Island | Page 4

awhile, if he was but earnest, I could hear its sweet murmuring sound begin; and then directly the child lost his fears, and did not want company; sweet echoes of his music talked with his spirit out of the darkness, and within a little time the gloom would lift itself quite up again, or melt away into the softest light: and lo! he had got on far on his voyage even in this time of darkness, so that sometimes he could see the beloved form just before him; and at times even the wooded shore of the happy land would lift itself up, and shine on his glad eyes, over the level brim of the silver sea.
From another boat it would seem that the very air of the heaven died away. There it lay, like a painted sail in a picture--the snow-white canvass drooping lazily, or flapping to and fro, as the long dull swell heaved up the boat, and let it sink again into the trough of the waves: other boats, but a little way off, would sail by with a full breeze; but he could not move; his very flag shewed no sign of life. Now if the little sailor began to amuse himself when this happened, it seemed to me that there he lay, and would lie, till the dark night overtook him, and parted him from all his company. But if, instead of this, he took up his musical instrument, and played upon it with all his earnestness, its soft breath, as it whispered to the wind, soon woke up its gentle sighing; the long flag lifted itself on high; the blood-red cross waved over the water; the snowy sails swelled out, and the little boat danced on along its joyful way.
I noticed also that before those boats which were passing on the fastest, the sea would every now and then look very dark and threatening. Great waves would seem to lift their white heads just before them; whilst every where else the sea looked calm and enticing. Then the little sailor would strain his eye after his master's course, or look down at the faithful compass; and by both of these sure signs he saw that his way lay straight through these threatening waves. Well was it for him, if, with a bold heart and a faithful hand, he steered right into them. For always did I see, that just as he got where it seemed to be most dangerous, the tossing waves sank, as if to yield him an easy passage; the wind favoured him more than at any part of his voyage; and he got on in the right way faster than ever before. Especially was this so, if at first he was somewhat tossed, and yet held straight on; for then he shot into a glassy calm, where tide and wind bore him steadily along unto the desired haven. But sad was it for him, if, instead of then trusting to the compass, he steered for the smoother water. One or two such trembling sailors I especially observed. One of them had long been sailing with the foremost boats; he had met with less darkness, fewer mists or troubled places, than the boats around him; and when he saw the white crests of the threatening waves lift up their strength before him, his heart began to sink; and after wavering for a moment, he turned his little boat aside to seek the calmer water. Through it he seemed to be gliding on most happily, when all at once his little boat struck upon a hidden sandbank, and was fixed so firmly on its side, that it could not get afloat again. I saw not his end; but I sadly feared that when next the sea wrought with a troubled motion, and the surf broke upon that bank, his little boat must soon be shivered, and he perish in the waves.
The other who turned aside followed closely after him; for this was one thing which I noted through all the voyage. Whenever one boat went astray, some thoughtless follower or other would forget his compass, to sail after the unhappy wanderer; and it often happened that these followers of others went the farthest wrong of any. So it was in this case; for when the first boat struck upon the sandbank, the other, thinking to escape it, bore still farther off; and so chancing to pass just where the shoal ended, and an unruly current swept by its farthest edge, the boat was upset in a moment, and the poor child in it drowned.
And now I turned to three or four boats which had kept together from the time they left the harbour. Few were forwarder than they; few had smoother water or