They had been out rowing that morning, and had come back with a quantity of spoils in the shape of shells and sea-weeds which they had gathered. They had returned just before the hour for dinner, and, meaning to go out again as soon as that meal was over, had not made the boat properly fast to the stake, but had contented themselves with carrying off the oars, and knotting a rope over one of the stones of the pier.
But after dinner some new and greater attraction, what is of no consequence, had taken their time and thoughts; and, forgetting all about the neglected boat, they had gone off, leaving it so carelessly fastened, and liable to slip its hold at any moment when the waves might become a little stronger; rubbing its pretty painted sides too, now and then, against the rough stones when the wash of the waves carried it too near.
But still worse mischief than this was to come from the thoughtlessness of those heedless boys, joined as it was to Mamie's deliberate disobedience.
Making her way as she best could to her sister, the eye of the little child was caught by the pretty boat bobbing up and down upon the waves; and farther, oh, priceless treasure! by the sight of a few gay shells which the boys in their hurry had dropped in the bottom of the boat.
"Dere's Mamie's pitty sells," said the darling to herself; "me will det 'em."
And the little feet slipped and slid themselves over the stones, till she stood at the very water's edge.
You will remember that this was on the sheltered side of the breakwater, where the waves had little or no force, but only rippled and washed with a gentle murmur at Lulu's feet.
The boat was still beyond her reach, but the dear little tot generally managed to gain what she wanted, if her own small hands or own small brains could bring it about.
"Dere's de wope dat pulls it," she said to herself, and in a moment she had laid hold of the rope, and drawn the boat in so that she could step within it. How she ever did so without falling into the water was matter of wonder to all who afterwards heard of it, but a kind Hand guarded the baby steps, and she gained the boat without harm.
Here she found enough to amuse her and keep her quiet for a few moments longer, till Mamie, suddenly rousing to the recollection that Lulu was waiting for her, drew back from her dangerous position and turned around.
Where was her little sister?
"Lulu, Lulu!" she called in terrified tones, not seeing her where she had left her as she started forward.
"Here me are," answered the little voice from the other side of the breakwater; and, making her way in haste, there she found Lulu deeply interested in something at the bottom of the boat, over which she was bending.
"O you naughty little thing! How did you go there, and how am I going to take you out?" said Mamie.
"Here's a funny ittle lanimal wants to sate hans wiz me," said Lulu, quite unmoved by her sister's reproaches. "Tome see him, Mamie. Tome in de boat."
"What will mamma say? How can I take you out?" repeated Mamie again.
"Lulu not tome out; dere's de wope, Mamie, pull it, and tome see dis funny fellow," urged Lulu; and Mamie, seeing her coolness, and that she could herself easily manage to step into the boat by drawing it towards her as Lulu must have done, lost her fears, and grew anxious to see what it was that interested the child so much. Besides, she would have to get in the boat herself to take Lulu out.
In another moment, it was done; the boat drawn close to the landing-place, and she had stepped within it as safely as Lulu had done.
"Only for one moment, Lulu," she said. "You were very naughty to come in here, and I must take you out. Oh! oh dear! how it rocks!" as the boat, shaken by her weight, rocked back and forth.
Was it Mamie herself, or innocent little Lulu, on whom the blame justly rested?
There was another thing which she had forgotten, or rather which she had not considered, namely, how the boat was to be drawn in again; nor had she observed that the rope, carelessly fastened in the beginning, was slipping farther and farther from its hold upon the stone, as the boat rocked to and fro.
The "funny ittle lanimal" proved to be a very small crab, which was feeling about him with his claws, in an uncomfortable manner; and in inquiring into his habits, and "poking him" about the bottom of the boat, several moments passed away.
And as the movements of the children gave a little added motion, that treacherous rope slid gradually from its stay, and – the boat was loose, and at the mercy of the out-going tide!
IX.
ADRIFT
DRIFTING! drifting! slowly, but steadily, the boat floated out from the shelter of the pier.
Quite absorbed by the droll movements of the tiny crab, Mamie did not notice their danger, till, passing out from the shadow which the breakwater had thrown upon it, the boat glided into the broad sunlight which flooded the waves beyond.
Then, startled by the burst of sunshine which fell upon her, she raised her head, and saw the dreadful truth.
Out on the waters, alone, alone! she and Lulu, two little helpless children, with no eye to watch, no hand to help!
For a moment or two she sat perfectly stunned, motionless where she was, crouched at the bottom of the boat, her eyes fixed upon the now fast-receding shore, her lips seeming glued together with horror and affright, a sick, faint feeling coming over her.
Out on the sea! out on the sea! alone! alone!
And so the precious moments were lost.
Little Lulu prattled away, all unconscious of fear or danger, and still interested in her captive, and his efforts to escape. But presently she too looked up.
"Where we doin', Mamie?" she asked, turning great eyes of wonder upon her sister.
Then Mamie found voice and breath, and, clasping the little one in her arms, shrieked aloud for help.
But none heard, although Lulu, terrified by her sister's cries, now joined her own, seeing something was wrong, though she could not yet understand their peril. For the wind, blowing as it did from the shore, carried away the sound of their voices, and floated the piteous tones far out over the sea.
Farther, still farther, and faster now, as the blue waves, crisping and sparkling in the sunlight, toyed with the frail boat, and its precious, helpless freight, and tossed it from one to another, but ever carrying it farther from home!
Was there no one to see? no one to hear? Why was it that no one looked out at that time over the dancing waters, and discovered what terrible plaything they had seized upon?
Far off, so far off it seemed to poor Mamie's straining eyes, and growing each moment more distant, figures were moving upon the shore; some up and down the road; others, she could distinguish them well at first, playing croquet upon the lawns; little children, like themselves, running up and down the long piazzas of the hotels: but no one, no one, turned an eye towards their peril, or lent an ear to the frantic cries which rang from their lips.
Oh, how cruel, how cruel, it seemed!
The boat drifted onward till it was a long distance from the shore, almost in a straight line, keeping directly in the flood of sunshine which fell across the waters; and it may be that if any eye did turn seaward, it was dazzled by the blaze of light, and, even if it saw the boat, could notice nothing amiss. Kind hearts were there that would almost have stood still at the thought of the fearful peril about those little ones; feet which would have flown, hands which would have strained every nerve to rescue them. But ah! to poor Mamie the whole world seemed so heartless, so cruel!
On, on, till she could no longer distinguish any thing more than the long line of hotels on the shore; the beach glistening on the one hand, the bare, stern rocks upon the other.
What was to become of them, herself and Lulu? Would they toss gently about in this way till they died of hunger, or would great fishes come and eat them up? Or would some terrible storm arise, and the waves, now so gentle and playful, grow high and fierce, as she had seen them the other day, and swallow up their frail boat? And the night, the night! What should they do when the darkness came, and the last faint, lingering hope that some one would yet see them should be gone? The sun was sinking towards the west even now; by and by it would be quite dark. What would mamma do when she missed her little girls, and knew not where to look? Would she ever know what had become of them? Would they be found all dead and drowned?
She had ceased to cry aloud now, and sat crouched, in a kind of dumb, helpless despair, at the bottom of the boat, with both arms clasped fast about Lulu, who had also hushed her screams, and sat with questioning, wistful eyes, wandering from Mamie's face over the waves, up to the sky, and back again to her sister. She did not understand: how could she? She only knew that Mamie had been frightened, and cried; and so she had cried too.
It was well that they both sat quite still in the bottom of the boat, or they might have fallen into the water; but Mamie, in the midst of all her terror, had sense enough left to know that they were safer so, and she would not suffer Lulu to stir from her encircling arms.
So on, still on, farther and farther out upon the lonely waters, away from home and friends, drifted the little helpless ones.
What though all was now bustle and alarm in that home, – indeed, throughout all the various houses on the shore; that Maria, missing her charges, so shamefully neglected, had hunted for them in vain, first about their own hotel, then in every other one, hoping that they might have gone visiting, or been taken away by some friend; that, hearing nothing of them, she had first alarmed the other servants of the house, then the ladies, next roused the sick mother, who grew frantic and desperate as moment after moment went by, and brought no news of her darlings? Who dreamed of all the truth?
The alarm was general now; the news went forth like wildfire: two little children lost! and so many dangerous places where they might have come to harm!
Stony shore and sandy beach were searched in vain to their farthest extent; one party explored the little river; others started for the green, cultivated country lying back of the shore, thinking that the stray lambs might have been tempted by its beauty to wander too far; others again hurried down upon the rocks, hoping to find them, perhaps, hidden in some of their many nooks or niches; the old pier, the dock, the very bathing-houses, were all searched; but who thought of looking out to sea, where the cockle-shell of a boat floated, floated far away?
It was not even missed, the little boat; for Mamie's brothers and Tom Norris were all away, and probably they would not have guessed at the truth, had they known of its loss.
And so hope grew fainter and fainter as one after another returned from the fruitless search only to set forth again; and the dreadful fear grew stronger and stronger that in some way the missing children had fallen into the water, and would never be seen again; while the poor mother went from one fainting fit into another, and those about her scarcely cared to call her back to her misery.
And so the sun sank low in the west, and the twilight gathered, and the night came down upon land and sea, and still no word came to those anxious, aching hearts of the little lost ones for whom they watched and waited.
How was it meanwhile with those poor little waifs?
With that dull, hopeless feeling that nothing could save them now seeming to benumb her, Mamie sat silent a long time, – silent, that is, but for the heavy, gasping sobs that struggled up from her poor little bosom, her eyes fixed on the distant stretch of shore, now fast receding into one gray, undistinguishable line; Lulu, awed by this strange, new grief of her sister's into stillness likewise.
But the baby tired at last. She wanted home and mamma, or, at least, her nurse. The boat and the water had been all very wonderful at first, and had perhaps lent their charm to keep her quiet; but she was wearied of them now. She fretted a little; then, finding this failed to draw Mamie's attention, she spoke.
"Lulu want mamma. Lulu want no more water," she said plaintively.
"O darling! what shall I do? What will become of us?" answered Mamie, roused by her words from the sort of stupor into which she had fallen.
"Tate Lulu home. Lulu want to do home. Lulu want mamma tate tare of her," said the little child, whose vague feeling of trouble was beginning to settle itself into a longing for her mother's care and comforting.
"O Lulu, Lulu!" broke forth Mamie, "there's no one to take care of us, there's no one to see us, there's no one to hear us. We're all alone, all alone, all alone!" her voice dying away to a low murmur of despair.
Was there no Eye to see? Was there no Ear to hear? Was there no Hand to save?
Whose Hand guided the fragile boat over the deep waters, and held their waves in check that they might not deal too roughly with the slight thing which was the sole refuge of those little ones? Whose was the Ear which bent to hear those piteous tones? Whose the Eye which watched them on their perilous way?
A few light clouds were sailing overhead on the deep blue sky; and, as the sun sank in the west, they were tinged with purple, pink, and gold, changing every instant from one hue to another. All around, on sea, earth, and sky, poured a flood of golden glory, the little curling waves breaking into a thousand diamond sparkles as they caught it on their crests.
Lulu gazed wonderingly into Mamie's face as she spoke so piteously, then put up a grieved lip; but, before breaking out into a cry again, she looked about her as if questioning the truth of her words.
The beauty of the sky above caught her eye; a golden-edged cloud fixed her attention for a moment, and her baby thoughts took a new turn.
Lulu had heard that God lived in the sky; she had been told, too, that God loved her, and would take care of her; and the little creature startled her sister with the words, —
"Mamie, where are Dod?"
And across Mamie's mind flashed her watchword. "The eyes of the Lord are in every place, beholding the evil and the good."
"In every place!" Here, now, watching her and Lulu! For a moment it seemed to bring new terror to her, speaking, as it did, to her guilty conscience; but the next there came comfort in the thought.
Not all alone, if His eye watched them there.
"Where are Dod?" repeated Lulu.
"God is in the sky, but He sees us here," she said more calmly than she had spoken before.
"Den He not tate tare of Mamie and Lulu?" questioned the little child.
"Yes, I think He will; I do believe He will," sobbed Mamie. "I b'lieve He'll take care of you any way, Lulu darling, 'cause this wasn't your fault, but only mine. Oh, dear! oh, dear!"
"Tell him tate tare of us, tate de boat home to mamma," lisped the baby lips. "Tell Him loud up in de sty, Mamie; and tell Him we so 'faid."
Innocent darling! she did not know why or of what she was afraid; only that she and Mamie were in some great trouble, that she wanted mamma, that mamma was not here, and that somehow the beauty of the sunset sky had brought to her mind the thought of God and of His care, of which she had been told.
"So afraid!"
Poor Mamie was indeed afraid, stricken with such awful dread as, happily, seldom finds its way into childish heart; but Lulu's words brought another verse into her mind. It almost seemed to her as if a voice came over the water, and sounded it into her ear, so suddenly and so strongly did it come to her.
"What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee."
Bessie Bradford had told it to her one day in the early part of the summer.
Mamie had a great terror of a thunder-storm; so had Bessie; but once, when they had happened to be together when one was passing, the former had shrieked and cried at every flash and peal, while the latter, though pale and shrinking, had remained perfectly quiet. Afterwards Mamie had said to her, —
"Bessie, how can you keep from crying when you are frightened in a thunder-storm?"
And Bessie had answered, —
"When I am very much frightened, I try to think of a verse mamma taught me to comfort me: 'What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee.'"
At the moment it had not made much impression on Mamie; but she had not forgotten the words; and now, in her time of need, they came to her so clearly, as I have said, that it almost seemed as if they were spoken to her: —
"What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee."
What a sense of hope and comfort, almost of relief, crept over the poor, miserable little child with the recollection!
And "the eyes of the Lord are in every place."
How she clung to the thought now, – the thought that she had been so ready to put from her for many a day past, which she had tried to forget because it was a reproach to her conscience, a check upon the purpose of disobedience which had led to such a terrible result!
"O God!" she said with quivering lips, "I am afraid, so afraid! please let me trust in Thee; and take a great deal of care of my Lulu and me on this dreadful water; and if there could be any way for us to go home to mamma, let us; and help me not to be naughty and disobedient again; and don't let mamma be very much frightened about us. Amen."
"Is mamma tomin' pitty soon now?" asked Lulu.
"I asked God, darling, to let us go back to her," moaned Mamie, "and He can help people a great deal; but I don't know but this is 'most too much even for Him."
Lulu understood, or noticed, only the first part of her speech, and it satisfied her, at least for the time; and, nodding her pretty head contentedly, she said, —
"Den Lulu will love Dod, an' be dood dirl."
Still the boat drifted onward, farther and farther from home and safety, out from the friendly waters of the bay, and more and more towards the open sea, where, on the distant horizon, hung a misty veil, soft purplish gray beneath, brightening above into tints of pink and amber which melted away again into the clear blue of the heaven above.
Not a sound was to be heard but the plashing of the water against the sides and keel of their boat; not a living thing was to be seen save their own two little selves. God's curtain of night was falling; and still they were alone out on the sea!
The sun was gone now; even the glorious colors which he left painted on the clouds after he had himself sunk from sight, had faded out; the evening breeze, cool and refreshing on the land, came chilly and damp over the water; and Lulu shivered as it struck through the thin muslin covering upon her tiny shoulders.
She had sat uncomplainingly after Mamie had told her she had asked God to take care of them, waiting in her own docile way to go to mamma; but now her baby patience was exhausted, as it well might be; for she was cold, hungry, and tired.
She broke into a pitiful cry.
"Lulu so told; Lulu want hupper; Lulu want mamma," she said appealingly to her sister, with oh! such a grieved, piteous face and voice, that Mamie's heart was quite broken; and now all thought of self was forgotten; and she prayed, poor little soul, that darling Lulu, at least, might be saved, and taken back to mamma, even if she might not.
Then she tried to speak words of comfort to her baby-sister. Ah, how hard it was, and what a mockery they seemed! and, taking off her own little jacket, she wrapped it about Lulu's shoulders, and, resting the weary little head against her own bosom, petted and soothed, until the long eyelashes drooped upon the dimpled cheek, and Lulu was asleep in her arms.
And then it was so lonely, oh, so lonely! far more so than when Lulu was awake, with her sweet voice prattling broken words now and then; but so great was Mamie's sense of the wrong she had done to her innocent sister, that she would not wake her, even for the comfort of her voice and look.
She had no thought or wish for sleep herself; the child's senses were all strained to the utmost, listening and watching for she knew not what.
How still it was, how very still! and deeper and yet deeper grew the dusky shadows, shrouding the distant white sails which all the afternoon had specked the far horizon, shutting them out from sight, and with them the last faint hope of help, which Mamie had somehow connected with them, leaving her no ray of comfort to cling to but those words: —
"What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee."
And night was upon the sea where drifted the lost baby voyagers; but "the eyes of the Lord are in every place."