Miles Wallingford

Chapter I.

  —­“But I’ll not chide thee;
  Let shame come when it will, I do not call it;
  I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot,
  Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove;
  Mend when thou canst—­”

  Lear.

It is almost as impossible to describe minutely what occurred on the boat’s reaching the Wallingford, as to describe all the terrific incidents of the struggle between Drewett and myself in the water.  I had sufficient perception, however, to see, as I was assisted on board by Mr. Hardinge and Neb, that Lucy was not on deck.  She had probably gone to join Grace, with a view to be in readiness for meeting the dire intelligence that was expected.  I afterwards learned that she was long on her knees in the after-cabin, engaged in that convulsive prayer which is apt to accompany sudden and extreme distress in those who appeal to God in their agony.

During the brief moments, and they were but mere particles of time, if one can use such an expression, in which my senses could catch anything beyond the horrid scene in which I was so closely engaged, I had heard shrill screams from the lungs of Chloe; but Lucy’s voice had not mingled in the outcry.  Even now, as we were raised, or aided, to the deck, the former stood, with her face glistening with tears, half convulsed with terror and half expanding with delight, uncertain whether to laugh or to weep, looking first at her master and then at her own admirer, until her feelings found a vent in the old exclamation of “der feller!”

It was fortunate for Andrew Drewett that a man of Post’s experience and steadiness was with us.  No sooner was the seemingly lifeless body on board, than Mr. Hardinge ordered the water-cask to be got out; and he and Marble would have soon been rolling the poor fellow with all their might, or holding him up by the heels, under the notion that the water he had swallowed must be got out of him, before he could again breathe; but the authority of one so high in the profession soon put a stop to this.  Drewett’s wet clothes were immediately removed, blankets were warmed at the galley, and the most judicious means were resorted to, in order to restore the circulation.  The physician soon detected signs of life, and, ordering all but one or two assistants to leave the spot, in ten minutes Drewett was placed in a warm bed, and might be considered out of danger.

The terrific scene enacted so directly before his eyes, produced an effect on the Albon-ny man, who consented to haul aft his main-sheet, lower his studding-sail and top-sail, come by the wind, stand across to the Wallingford, heave-to, and lower a boat.  This occurred just as Drewett was taken below; and, a minute later, old Mrs. Drewett and her two daughters, Helen and Caroline, were brought alongside of us.  The fears of these tender relatives were allayed by