Shifting Winds | Page 5

manage 'em both, sir; let me have the child," said the
strong seaman, suddenly grasping the little girl, and attempting to
unlock her arms which were tightly clasped round her father's neck.
The father hesitated, but a terrific wave was rushing towards the
doomed ship. Without even the comfort of a hurried kiss he resigned
the child. The young mother stretched out her arms towards her,
uttering a piteous cry. At that moment the ship rose on the billow's crest
as if it were no heavier than a flake of the driving foam--a crash
followed--it was gone, and the crew were left struggling in the sea.
The struggle was short with most of them. Previous exposure and
anxiety had already quite exhausted all but the strongest among the
men, and even these were unable to withstand the influence of the
ice-cold water more than a few seconds. Some were struck by portions
of the wreck and killed at once. Others sank without an effort to save
themselves. A few swam with unnatural vigour for a yard or two, and

then went down with a gurgling cry; but in a very few minutes the work
of death was complete. All were gone except the strong seaman, who
clasped the little child in his left arm and buffeted the billows with his
right.
Once and again were they overwhelmed; but as often did they rise
above the foam to continue the battle. It was a terrible fight. A piece of
wreck struck the man on his back and well-nigh broke it; then a wave
arched high above them, fell with a crash, and drove them nearly to the
bottom, so that the child was rendered insensible, and the strong man
was nearly choked before he rose again to the surface to gasp the
precious air. At last a wave broke behind them, caught them on its crest,
and hurled them on a beach of sand. To cling to this while the water
retired was the fiercest part of the conflict--the turning-point in the
battle. The wave swept back and left the man on his hands and knees.
He rose and staggered forward a few paces ere the next wave rushed
upon him, compelling him to fall again on hands and knees and drive
his bleeding fingers deep down into the shingle. When the water once
more retired, he rose and stumbled on till he reached a point above
high-water mark, where he fell down in a state of utter exhaustion, but
still clasping the little one tightly to his breast.
For some time he lay there in a state of half-consciousness until his
strength began to revive; then he arose, thanking God in an audible
voice as he did so, and carried the child to a spot which was sheltered
in some degree by a mass of cliff from the blinding spray and furious
gale. Here he laid her with her face downwards on a grassy place, and
proceeded to warm his benumbed frame.
Vitality was strong in the sailor. It needed only a few seconds' working
of the human machine to call it into full play. He squeezed the water
out of his jacket and trousers, and then slapped his arms across his
chest with extreme violence, stamping his feet the while, so that he was
speedily in a sufficiently restored condition to devote his attention with
effect to the child, which still lay motionless on the grass.
He wrung the water out of her clothes, and chafed her feet, hands, and
limbs, rapidly yet tenderly, but without success. His anxiety while thus

employed was very great; for he did not know the proper method to
adopt in the circumstances, and he felt that if the child did not revive
within a few minutes, all chance of her recovery would be gone. The
energy of his action and the anxiety of his mind had warmed his own
frame into a glow. It suddenly occurred to him that he might make use
of this superabundant heat. Opening the little frock in front, he placed
the child's breast against his own, and held it there, while with his right
hand he continued to chafe her limbs.
In a few minutes he felt a flutter of the heart, then a gentle sigh escaped
from the blue lips; the eyelids quivered, and finally the child revived.
"D'ye feel gettin' better, Emmie?" said the man, in a low, soft voice.
A faint "yes" was all the reply.
The seaman continued his efforts to instil warmth into the little frame.
Presently the same question was repeated, and the child looking up,
said--
"Is that 'oo, Gaff?"
"Ay, dear, 'tis me."
"Where am I--where's mamma?" inquired Emmie, looking round in
some degree of alarm.
"Hush, dear; don't speak just now.