After Dick was asleep Augusta sat, or rather lay, in the dark listening
to the moaning of the wind as it beat upon the shanty and passed away
in gusts among the cliffs and mountains beyond. The loneliness was
something awful, and together with the thought of what the end of it
would probably be, quite broke her spirit down. She knew that the
chances of her escape were small indeed. Ships did not often come to
this dreadful and uninhabited coast, and if one should happen to put in
there, it was exceedingly probable that it would touch at some other
point and never see her or her flag. And then in time the end would
come. The supply of eggs would fail, and she would be driven to
supporting life upon such birds as she could catch, till at last the
child sickened and died, and she followed it to that dim land that lies
beyond Kerguelen and the world. She prayed that the child might die
first. It was awful to think that perhaps it might be the other way
about: she might die first, and the child might be left to starve
beside her. The morrow would be Christmas Day. Last Christmas Day she
had spent with her dead sister at Birmingham. She remembered that they
went to church in the morning, and after dinner she had finished
correcting the last revises of “Jemima’s Vow.” Well, it seemed likely
that long before another Christmas came she would have gone to join
little Jeannie. And then, being a good and religious girl, Augusta rose
to her knees and prayed to Heaven with all her heart and soul to rescue
them from their terrible position, or, if she was doomed to perish, at
least to save the child.
And so the long cold night wore away in thought and vigil, till at
last, some two hours before the dawn, she got to sleep. When she opened
her eyes again it was broad daylight, and little Dick, who had been
awake some time beside her, was sitting up playing with the shell which
Bill and Johnnie had used to drink rum out of. She rose and put the
child’s things a little to rights, and then, as it was not raining,
told him to run outside while she went through the form of dressing by
taking off such garments as she had, shaking them, and putting them on
again. She was slowly going through this process, and wondering how
long it would be before her shoulders ceased to smart from the effects
of the tattooing, when Dick came running in without going through the
formality of knocking.
“Oh, Auntie! Auntie!” he sang out in high glee, “here’s a big ship
coming sailing along. Is it Mummie and Daddie coming to fetch Dick?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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