Black Bartlemys Treasure

"Nay, let me steer a while," she cried, looking up through her wind-tossed hair, "'tis joy to me! Lay you down and rest a while and trust the boat to me." And seeing how quick she was to meet each send of the seas (that were already running high) glad enough was I to humour her whim, and clambered forward again. And there (having nought better to do) I set about rigging a rough awning athwart the bows, with canvas and a stout spar, which methought should keep out the spray and any chance sea that might break forward; though indeed the boat seemed mighty staunch, and sea-worthy to a miracle.

With every hour the wind waxed in fury and therewith the sea rose, huge, rolling billows that came roaring up astern to whirl us aloft amid hissing brine and passing, left us deep-plunged in great, foaming hollows. Being got back aft at last and with no small exertion (by reason of the boat's pitching) I stared amazed to hear my companion singing right joyously.

"O Martin!" she cried, her voice a-thrill with the clear, vital ring I knew so well, "O Martin, the wonder and glory of it! See yonder on these mighty waters, Death rides crying to us. But God is there also, and if these rushing surges 'whelm us we, dying, shall find God there." And beholding her as she sat, her face uplifted to the tempest, her sea-wet hair upborne upon the wind, I marvelled within myself. "And the boat, Martin!" cries she as we rose on a hissing wave-crest, "This dear, brave boat! See how nobly she rides--indeed and indeed I do love her every timber!"

And verily to me, awed by these mighty waters, it was wonderful to see how our little craft rose to the seas, buoyant as any cork; now poised 'mid hissing foam high in air, now plunging dizzily down; and ever the wind gathered fury until the very air seemed full of whirling spindrift.

In a while I took the tiller, and wondered to see my companion droop all at once with head bowed upon her hands.

"Are you sick?" I cried.

"'Tis but weariness," she answered, "I slept no wink last night."

"Why then go forward and lie down!" says I. The which she did forthwith, and made less business of it than I. Reaching the mast she paused thereby to behold my handiwork, then going on her knees crept beneath the awning and vanished from my view.

Left alone I stared around me on the raging tumult, and beholding all its terrors my mind was full of wonder of this maid who could sing so blithely with Death all about her and behold God, as it were, riding on the wings of the storm.