Here followed another shock, that made the vessel heave and
tremble; and the dragging of the anchor increased the uneasy
motion which began to fill the boldest of us with alarm.
"Mrs. Moodie, we are lost," said Margaret Williamson, the youngest
daughter of the old woman, a pretty girl, who had been the belle
of the ship, flinging herself on her knees before me, and grasping
both my hands in hers. "Oh, pray for me! pray for me! I cannot,
I dare not, pray for myself; I was never taught a prayer." Her
voice was choked with convulsive sobs, and scalding tears fell in
torrents from her eyes over my hands. I never witnessed such an
agony of despair. Before I could say one word to comfort her,
another shock seemed to lift the vessel upwards. I felt my own
blood run cold, expecting instantly to go down; and thoughts of
death, and the unknown eternity at our feet, flitted vaguely
through my mind.
"If we stay here, we shall perish," cried the girl, springing to
her feet. "Let us go on deck, mother, and take our chance with the
rest."
"Stay," I said; "you are safer here. British sailors never leave
women to perish. You have fathers, husbands, brothers on board, who
will not forget you. I beseech you to remain patiently here until
the danger is past." I might as well have preached to the winds.
The headstrong creatures would no longer be controlled.
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