British -- India -- Fiction; Epistolary fiction; Kolkata (India) -- History -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
lest they should admit water as well), and the howling of the wind and
roaring of the waves as they dashed over the ship was attempted to be
drowned by the hoarse shouting of the seamen. I’ll assure you that I
never expected to see dry land again, and as I have said, I was glad
to think so. But how, you’ll say, did my companions support the trials
which were so painful to your Sylvia? Truly, my dear, they supported
them with as bad a grace as I did. Miss Hamlin, indeed, never lost her
sprightly humour, and diverted herself, even in the extremity of our
sufferings, by rallying the other ladies on the dangers they
apprehended, but her aunt had no spirit to do more than lie upon her
shelf and groan, which she did in the most moving style. As for the
other two ladies, whose husbands were on board, they seemed to
consider that the bad weather was to be laid to the fault of their
spouses. These unfortunate gentlemen had betaken themselves to their
shelves in the great cabin (as, indeed, had all the male passengers,
with the exception I shall presently mention), and lay there as
miserable as ourselves, but their ladies were persuaded that they were
employing themselves in drinking and playing high with the officers of
the ship, and many were the messages of rebuke sent to them through
the steward. This was a stout fellow, of the most unfeeling temper,
who brought in our broth or tea when the black women that Mrs Hamlin
and the other ladies are taking back to India with them were too ill
to move, and never failed to assure us that we should find ourselves
quite recovered if we would but pluck up courage to put on our clothes
and go on deck.
We did not, as my Amelia will imagine, follow the advice of this
odious person, but when the storm had ceased, and we were able to rest
on our shelves without holding perpetually by the edges, he brought a
message from Mr Fraser, asking if he might have the honour of waiting
upon any of the ladies on deck. Now the Lieutenant, who was the
exception I have mentioned to the general rule of illness among the
gentlemen, had shown great consideration for us poor women during the
storm, coming frequently to the door of the cabin to assure us that
all was well, and had gone so far as to promise that he would bring us
instant warning if any grave danger threatened the vessel, so that I
thought it only civil to make some effort to respond to his
politeness.
“Pray, miss,” I said to Miss Hamlin, “have you any fancy to rise?
Shall we ask the gentleman to attend us both?”
“Why, no, miss,” says she. “’Tis your fellow sends the invitation, not
mine. Pray beg the Lieutenant to inform Mr Ranger that I am dependent
upon his civilities, and that I look to him to attend me on deck
to-morrow.”
“But you would not have me go on deck alone?” I said.
“No, miss, I would have you go with Mr Fraser. Sure the poor man must
be pining for a sight of your face after so long a deprivation of it.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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