With great difficulty I persuaded the women to accompany me below.
The mate hurried off with the cabin light upon the deck, and we
were left in total darkness to await the result.
A deep, strange silence fell upon my heart. It was not exactly
fear, but a sort of nerving of my spirit to meet the worst. The
cowardly behaviour of my companions inspired me with courage.
I was ashamed of their pusillanimity and want of faith in the
Divine Providence. I sat down, and calmly begged them to follow
my example.
An old woman, called Williamson, a sad reprobate, in attempting
to do so, set her foot within the fender, which the captain had
converted into a repository for empty glass bottles; the smash
that ensued was echoed by a shriek from the whole party.
"God guide us," cried the ancient dame; "but we are going into
eternity. I shall be lost; my sins are more in number than the
hairs of my head." This confession was followed by oaths and
imprecations too blasphemous to repeat.
Shocked and disgusted at her profanity, I bade her pray, and not
waste the few moments that might be hers in using oaths and bad
language.
"Did you not hear the crash?" said she.
"I did; it was of your own making.
