Willis the Pilot | Page 4

with a
cargo of cochineal, pearls, coral, nutmegs, and other articles that the
country produced of value in a commercial point of view. It was,
however, understood that one of the two should return again as soon as
possible, and bring back with him any of his countrymen who might be
induced to become settlers in this land of promise, Becker hoping, by
this means, to found a new colony which might afterwards flourish
under the name of New Switzerland. The mission to Europe was
formally confided to Frank and Ernest, the two most sedate of the
family.
Besides the captain and crew, there was on board the ship now riding at
anchor in the bay a passenger, named Wolston, with his wife and two
daughters. This gentleman was on his way to join his son at the Cape of
Good Hope, but had been taken seriously ill previous to the Nelsons
arrival on the coast. He and his family were invited on shore by Becker,
and had taken up their quarters at Rockhouse. Wolston was an engineer
by profession, but his wife belonged to a highly aristocratic family of
the West of England; she had been brought up in a state of ease and
refinement, was possessed of all the accomplishments required in
fashionable society, but she was at the same time gifted with strong
good sense, and could readily accommodate herself to the
circumstances in which she was now placed. Her two daughters, Sophia
the youngest, a lively child of thirteen, and Mary the eldest, a demure
girl of sixteen, had been likewise carefully, but somewhat elaborately,
educated. Attracted no less by the hearty and warm reception of the
Swiss family, than determined by the state of his health and the pure air
of the country, Wolston resolved to await there the return of the sloop,
the official destination of which was the Cape of Good Hope, where it
had to land despatches from Sidney.
Captain Littlestone, of H.B.M.'s sloop Nelson, had kindly consented to
all these arrangements; he agreed to convey Ernest and Frank Becker
and their cargo to the Cape, to aid them there with his experience, and,
finally, to recommend them to some trustworthy correspondents he had

at Liverpool. He likewise promised to bring back young Wolston with
him on his return voyage.
Everything being prepared, the departure was fixed for the next day:
the sloop, with the blue Peter at the fore, was ready, as soon as the
anchor was weighed, to continue her voyage. The cargo had been
stowed under hatches. Becker had just given the farewell dinner to
Captain Littlestone and Lieutenant Dunsley, his second in command.
These two gentlemen had discreetly taken their leave, not to interrupt
by their presence the final embraces of the family, the ties of which,
after so many long years of labor and hardship, were for the first time
to be broken asunder.
During the voyage, Wolston had formed an intimacy with the
boatswain of the Nelson, named Willis, and he, on his side, held
Wolston and his family in high esteem. Willis was likewise a great
favorite with his captain--they had served in the same ship together
when boys; Willis was known to be a first-rate seaman; so great, indeed,
was his skill in steering amongst reefs and shoals, that he was
familiarly styled the "Pilot," by which cognomen he was better known
on board than any other. At the particular request of Wolston, who had
some communications to make to him respecting his son, Willis
remained on shore, the captain promising to send his gig for him and
his two passengers the following morning.
Whilst Wolston was busy charging the pilot with a multitude of
messages for his son, Mrs. Becker was invoking the blessings of
Heaven upon the heads of her two boys; praying that the hour might be
deferred that was to separate her from these idols of her soul. Becker
himself, upon whom his position, as head of the family, imposed the
obligation of exhibiting, at least outwardly, more courage, instilled into
their minds such principles of truth and rules of conduct as the
solemnity of the moment was calculated to engrave on their hearts.
The dial now marked three o'clock, tropical time. Willis, wiping, with
the cuff of his jacket, a drop that trickled from the corner of his eye,
laid hold of his seal-skin sou'-wester as a signal of immediate departure.
Ernest and Frank were bending their heads to receive the parting

benediction of their parents, when suddenly a fierce torrent of wind
shook the gallery of Rockhouse to its foundation, and uprooted some of
the bamboo columns by which it was supported.
"Only a squall," said Willis quietly.
"A squall!" exclaimed Becker, "what do you call a hurricane then?"
"Oh,