Grace Darling by Eva Hope (people reading books .txt) 📕

Mrs. Darling, Grace, and the others, had been watching them with intense anxiety, and they were on the beach, ready to welcome their return.

"We have brought the poor fellow off the rock, and landed him safely; but there is not much life left in him, I fancy," said Robert.

"I hope we may restore him. Bring him in carefully," said Grace. "He may have been sent to us for our help and compassion—a Christmas stranger!"

Did she think how, in return for their hospitality, the Saviour would himself say, "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, my brethren, ye have done it unto Me!"

The sailor was soon laid in a warm bed, and restoratives were given to him. For a long time, however, the Darlings feared that their efforts would be in vain, but, after much patience and perseverance, he began to revive. The women of the household had now plenty of occupation, and Grace was one of the chief nurses of the forlorn shipwrecked man. Every kindness and attention was heaped upon him; and the festive season received just the pathetic touch it always wants to bring out the love of happy hearts towards those who are sad and wretched.

The Christmas was over, and the brothers and sisters had gone back to their various situations and occupations on the mainland before the man was sufficiently recovered to leave his temporary home on the Longstone. When he began to recover he had a relapse, and a low fever set in, which lasted for some time. As soon as he was able to give an account of himself he related a most pathetic tale, which quite touched the heart of the gentle, humane Grace, who had questioned him.

"My name, Miss? It is Logan, and I was born at Nithdale, in Scotland. I think no man has been more unfortunate than I. I have been shipwrecked several times—once, only a few weeks ago, at Sunderland. The whole crew would have been lost then, only that the Sunderland life-boatmen came out and rescued us. Soon after that, I got a situation as mate on board the 'Autumn,' but my usual fate overtook me. We were going to Peterhead, but had only been a day or two at sea, when a gale came on. The master made every effort to guide the vessel, but it was of no use, and at last she was dashed among the breakers. Then we tried to launch the boats, but could not do it, and, as a last resource, I and one other man clung to the mast for safety. We were in that situation for four hours."

"Four hours!" exclaimed Grace.

"Yes; and at last, when the tide went out, we found the Naestone rock uncovered, and the mast hanging over it, so we dropped on the rock. We had not much bettered our condition, however, for a heavy sea swept over the mast, and we could not see a vestige of it, though our only hope of safety depended upon it. I tried to get up a joke with my mate, but I could see that he was losing all hope. I told him that perhaps we should be discovered, but he only shook his head in despair. He talked about being resigned to his fate. 'I feel that I am dying,' said he. 'If you should be fetched off the rock, go and see my father and mother, and tell them how I died. Tell my mother that my last prayer was for her; and may God Almighty bless and comfort her.' 'Cheer up, man,' says I, 'you're not dead yet.' But he was too far gone to be consoled; and before he had been more than two hours on the rock, he died."

"Poor fellow!" said Grace, who was weeping tears of sorrow and sympathy. "Did you not feel worse still after he was gone?"

"Yes, indeed, I felt despairing, for all my hope died when my comrade died. The wind was still blowing furiously, and the spray kept dashing over me. I saw the tide getting higher and higher, and coming nearer and nearer, and wondered how long I had to live. At last the waves washed the place on which I stood, and I thought my last moments had come. But just then I saw your boat! I thought I should have gone frantic with joy; I did not know how to contain my feelings. Oh! Mr. Darling, God bless you and your family for your goodness to a poor shipwrecked sailor. May He reward you, for I am sure I never can."

The man broke down and could say no more, while Mr. Darling wrung his hand, and told him, what was the truth, that there was no greater joy than to rescue those who were in danger of death.

A day or two after Logan felt better and wished to say good-bye to his kind friends.

"I will go with you to Bamborough," said the lighthouse keeper. "If you go to Lord Crewe's institution, they will help you!"

"What sort of place is that, then?"

"A sailor's home, among other things. Bamborough Castle once belonged to him; and when he died, he left an immense fortune to be applied to good purposes. It is a splendid place. There are schools for educating children. There is a large library of books that are lent out to the people who live near. Goods are sold at a cheap rate to the poor. There is an infirmary, where thousands have been relieved, and besides all this, there are rooms for shipwrecked sailors. There is always a reward given to the first boat that puts off to the wreck; and those who have been ship-wrecked have money and clothing given to them, if they are destitute."

"There is some hope for me, then?"

"Yes, indeed."

"But you had better stay here until you are quite well," said Grace.

"Thank you, Miss! You are very kind, but I must go, for I am anxious to get settled again. I shall never forget the happy hours I have spent under this roof though, nor your great kindness to me."

He was not to be persuaded to remain, so Mr. Darling took him across to the castle, where he received the ship-wrecked sailor's relief. The governors gave to Darling the usual reward for saving the life of Logan, but that the generous lighthouse-keeper put into the sailor's bundle which he was carrying for him.

Mr. Darling accompanied Logan a few miles along the Berwick road, to which place Logan wished to go, and then they parted.

Grace Darling was right! Christmas is not all that it might be if it brings no opportunities of exercising Christian charity. Did not the Son of Man come as a stranger to this world, finding no room in the inn. But since He has made all our homes bright by the free salvation which is His gift, shall not we, in return, look after the homeless and comfortless ones, who it is never very difficult to find? It seems as if the angel's prophetic song is not yet fulfilled, for not yet is the earth filled with peace and good-will to men. But if we do only a little, by saving a shipwrecked mariner, or a destitute child, something at least is gained, and He receives it, who said of the loving woman, "She hath done what she could."

"Deal gently with her; thou art dear
Beyond what vestal lips have told,
And, like a lamb from fountains clear,
She turns confiding to thy fold.
She, round thy sweet domestic bower,
The wreath of changeless love shall twine,
Watch for thy step at vesper hour,
And blend her holiest prayer with thine.

"Deal gently thou, when far away
'Mid stranger scenes her foot shall rove,
Nor let thy tender care decay—
The soul of woman lives in love.
And shouldst thou, wondering, mark a tear
Unconscious from her eyelids break,
Be pitiful, and soothe the fear
That man's strong heart may ne'er partake."—Mrs. Sigourney.

The members of the Darling family began to perceive that they had a sister of whom they might justly be proud. She had endeared herself to them all by many tender ministrations of love; and whenever they thought of home, they thought of Grace also. And when they were away from home, pursuing their different avocations on the mainland, it occurred to them that it would give Grace pleasure, and show their appreciation of her kindness, if they sent her an occasional present. Nor was there any need to hold a consultation as to what form the gift should take.

"Nothing will please Grace so much as a book," one and all would have said, had their opinion been asked.

Grace's fondness for reading was indeed well known, as also her preference for poetry. But hitherto she had been obliged to content herself with the ballads of Bamborough and the surrounding neighbourhood. Now, however, her brothers sent her such books as she could revel in—namely, the poetic works of Goldsmith, Cowper, Milton, and Shakespeare. She especially enjoyed her favourite author, Goldsmith, and passed many a pleasant hour in the lonely lighthouse-tower, reading the "Traveller" and the "Deserted Village."

But in the midst of her reading-delights, there occurred the first wedding in the family.

"Grace, will you be my bridesmaid!" was the request which Mary Ann sent to her sister, and of course it was one that could not be resisted. Was there ever a girl who did not feel delighted to attend a wedding? And the bridesmaids sometimes have the best of it; for it is not to them so solemn an occasion as it is to the bride. They are not entering upon a new and untried sphere, nor seeking to fulfil a position which may be, and is very delightful, but which carries with it a large amount of responsibility. The duties of a bridesmaid are altogether easy and pleasant, and Grace had no difficulty in consenting to take them upon herself.

But Mary Ann was not easily satisfied. "I want Grace for a week," she said. "She can help me to do many things toward getting my new home in order, and helping me with the necessary preparations with my own dress; and I am sure that a week is none too long for so much."

"Would you like to go for a week, Grace!" asked her mother.

"I never like being away from home," replied Grace, "but, upon such an occasion as this, I think Mary Ann ought to have her own way."

Everybody thought the same, and Grace accordingly arranged to go. But so endeared was the lighthouse-home to Grace Darling, and so dear was she to the hearts of the dwellers there, that although her absence was to be only a short one, yet, when she received the parting kiss of her mother, and the blessing of her father, the affectionate girl shed tears of regret at having to leave them.

Grace, however, never forgot the week that followed, nor the happy time that she spent with her sister. She listened with hearty interest and sympathy to all the hopes of the bride—to the plans that she had formed, and the resolutions she had made. She heartily entered into all that concerned Mary Ann, and was not sorry to have so good an opportunity of becoming better acquainted with her brother-in-law, whom she soon learned to love and respect. A man must need be worthy, if a loving girl is willing to give her dear sister into his keeping, and in this case Grace was not afraid. He took his new sister into his confidence, and showed her the neat and comfortable home which he had prepared for his bride, and which altogether pleased her.

"And you must come to see us as often as you can, Grace. Remember there will always be a welcome for you, come when you may."

"Thank you," said Grace. "I cannot get away from