"Can't we run alongside without the boat?" asked Claude.

"Wal, yes," said Zac; "but then, you know, we couldn't stay alongside when we got that, an' so we've got to take 'em off with the boat the best way we can."

They were not long in retracing their way, and soon came near enough.

Zac then gave up the tiller to Terry, telling him to keep as near as possible. He then got into the boat, and Claude followed, by Zac's invitation, as well as his own urgent request. Each took an oar, and after a few strokes, they were up to the raft. The raft was on a level with the water and was barely able to sustain the weight of those who had found refuge on it. It seemed like the p.o.o.p or round house of some ship which had been beaten off by the fury of the waves, and had afterwards been resorted to by those who now clung to it.

The occupants of the raft were, indeed, a melancholy group. They were seven in number. Of these, two were common seamen; a third looked like a ship's officer, and wore the uniform of a second lieutenant; the fourth was a gentleman, who seemed about forty years of age.

These four were standing, and as the boat approached them they gave utterance to every possible cry of joy and grat.i.tude. But it was the other three occupants of the raft that most excited the attention of Claude and Zac.

An old man was seated there, with thin, emaciated frame, and snow-white hair. He was holding in his arms a young girl, while beside her knelt another young girl who seemed like the attendant of the first, and both the old man and the maid were most solicitous in their attentions. The object of these attentions was exquisitely beautiful. Her slender frame seemed to have been worn by long privation, and weakened by famine and exposure. Her face was pale and wan, but still showed the rounded outlines of youth. Her hair was all dishevelled, as though it had been long the sport of the rude tempest and the ocean billow, and hung in disordered ma.s.ses over her head and shoulders. Her dress, though saturated with wet from the sea and the fog, was of rich material, and showed her to belong to lofty rank; while the costume of the old man indicated the same high social position. The young lady was not senseless, but only weak, perhaps from sudden excitement. As she reclined in the old man's arms, her eyes were fixed upon the open boat; and Claude, as he turned to grasp the raft, caught her full gaze fixed upon him, with a glance from her large dark eyes that thrilled through him, full of unutterable grat.i.tude. Her lips moved, not a word escaped, but tears more eloquent than words rolled slowly down.

Such was the sight that greeted Claude as he stepped from the boat upon the raft. In an instant he was caught in the embraces of the men, who, frenzied with joy at the approach of deliverance, flung themselves upon him. But Claude had no eyes for any one but the lovely young girl, whose gaze of speechless grat.i.tude was never removed from him.

"Messieurs," said Claude, who knew them to be French, and addressed them in their own language, "you shall all be saved; but we cannot all go at once; we must save the weakest first; and will, therefore, take these now, and come back for you afterwards."

Saying this, he stooped down so to raise the young lady in his arms, and carry her aboard. The old man held her up, uttering inarticulate murmurs, that sounded like blessings on their deliverer. Claude lifted the girl as though she had been a child, and stepped towards the boat. Zac was already on the raft, and held the boat, while Claude stepped aboard. The old man then tried to rise and follow, a.s.sisted by the maid, but, after one or two efforts, sank back, incapable of keeping his feet. Upon this Zac flung the rope to the French lieutenant, and walked over to the old man. Claude now had returned, having left the girl in the stern of the boat.

"Look here," said Zac, as he came up; "the old gentleman can't walk.

You'd best carry him aboard, and I'll carry the gal."

With these words Zac turned towards the maid; she looked up at him with a shy glance and showed such a pretty face, such black eyes and smiling lips, that Zac for a moment hesitated, feeling quite paralyzed by an overflow of bashfulness. But it was not a time to stand on ceremony; and so honest Zac, without more ado, seized the girl in his arms, and bore her to the boat, where he deposited her carefully by the side of the other. Claude now followed, carrying the old man, whom he placed beside the young lady, so that he and the maid could support her as before. There was yet room for one more, and the gentleman still on the raft came forward at Claude's invitation, and took his place in the bows. The rest waited on the raft. The boat then returned to the schooner, which now had come very close. Here Claude lifted the lady high in the air, and Pere Michel took her from his arms. Claude then got on board the schooner, and took her to the cabin, where he laid her on a couch. Zac then lifted up the maid, who was helped on board by Pere Michel, where Claude met her, and took her to the cabin. Zac then lifted up the old man, and Pere Michel stood ready to receive him also.

And now a singular incident occurred. As Zac raised the old man, Pere Michel caught sight of the face, and regarded it distinctly. The old man's eyes were half closed, and he took no notice of anything; but there was something in that face which produced a profound impression on Pere Michel. He stood rigid, as though rooted to the spot, looking at the old man with a fixed stare. Then his arms sank down, his head also fell forward, and turning abruptly away, he walked forward to the bows. Upon this Jericho came forward; and he it was who lifted the old man on board and a.s.sisted him to the cabin.

After this, the other gentleman got on board, and then the boat returned and took off the other occupants of the raft.

CHAPTER III.

NEW FRIENDS.

Every arrangement was made that could be made within the confines of a small schooner to secure the comfort of the strangers. To the young lady and her maid Claude gave up the state-room which he himself had thus far occupied, and which was the best on board, while Zac gave up his to the old man. The others were all comfortably disposed of, and Zac and Claude stowed themselves away as best they could feeling indifferent about themselves as long as they could minister to the wants of their guests. Food and sleep were the things that were the most needed by all these new-comers, and these they had in abundance.

Under the beneficial effects of these, they began to regain their strength. The seaman rallied first, as was most natural; and from these Claude learned the story of their misfortunes.

The lost ship had been the French frigate Arethuse, which had left Brest about a moth previously, on a voyage to Louisbourg and Quebec.

The old gentleman was the Comte de Laborde, and the two girls whom they had saved, one was his daughter, and the other her maid. The other gentleman was the Comte de Cazeneau. This last was on his way to Louisbourg, where an important post was awaiting him. About a week before this the Arethuse had encountered a severe gale, accompanied by a dense fog, in which they had lost their reckoning. To add to their miseries, they found themselves surrounded by icebergs, among which navigation was so difficult that the seamen all became demoralized. At length the ship struck one of these floating ma.s.ses, and instantly began to fill. The desperate efforts of the crew, however, served to keep her afloat for another day, and might have saved her, had it not been for the continuation of the fog. On the following night, in the midst of intense darkness, she once more struck against an iceberg, and this time the consequences were more serious. A huge fragment of ice fell upon the p.o.o.p, shattering it and sweeping it overboard. In an instant all discipline was at an end. It was _sauve qui peut_. The crew took to the boats. One of these went down with all on board, while the others pa.s.sed away into the darkness. This little handful had thrown themselves upon the ship's p.o.o.p, which was floating alongside within reach, just in time to escape being dragged down by the sinking ship; and there, for days and nights, with scarcely any food, and no shelter whatever, they had drifted amid the dense fog, until all hope had died out utterly. Such had been their situation when rescue came.

Claude, upon hearing this story, expressed a sympathy which was most sincere; and to the seamen it was all the pleasanter as his accent showed him to be a countryman. But the general sympathy which the young man felt, sincere though it was, could not be compared with that special sympathy which he experienced for the lovely young girl whom he had borne from the raft into the schooner, and whose deep glance of speechless grat.i.tude had never since faded from his memory.

She was now aboard, and was occupying his own room. More than this, she had already taken up a position within his mind which was a pre-eminent one. She had driven out every thought of everything else.

The highest desire which he had was to see once again that face which had become so vividly impressed upon his memory, and find out what it might be like in less anxious moments. But for this he would have to wait.

Meanwhile the schooner had resumed her voyage, in which, however, she made but slow progress. The wind, which had come up so opportunely, died out again; and, though the fog had gone, still for a few days they did little else than drift.

After the first day and night the Count de Laborde came upon deck. He was extremely feeble, and had great difficulty in walking; with him were his daughter and her maid. Although her exhaustion and prostration on the raft had, apparently, been even greater than his, yet youth was on her side, and she had been able to rally much more rapidly. She and her maid supported the feeble old count, and anxiously antic.i.p.ated his wants with the fondest care.

Claude had hoped for this appearance, and was not disappointed. He had seen her first as she was emerging from the valley of the shadow of death, with the stamp of sorrow and despair upon her features; but now no trace of despair remained; her face was sweet and joyous beyond expression, with the grace of a child-like innocence and purity. The other pa.s.senger, whom the lieutenant of the Arethuse had called the Count de Cazeneau, was also on deck, and, on seeing Laborde and his daughter, he hastened towards them with the utmost fervor of congratulations. The lieutenant also went to pay his respects. The young countess was most gracious, thanking them for their good wishes, and a.s.suring them that she was as well as ever; and then her eyes wandered away, and, after a brief interval, at length rested with a fixed and earnest look full upon Claude. The glance thrilled through him. For a moment he stood as if fixed to the spot; but at length, mastering his emotion, he went towards her.

"Here he is, papa, dearest," said she,--"our n.o.ble deliverer.--And, O, monsieur, how can we ever find words to thank you?"

"Dear monsieur," said the old count, embracing Claude, "Heaven will reward you; our words are useless.--Mimi," he continued, turning to his daughter, "your dream was a true one.--You must know, monsieur, that she dreamed that a young Frenchman came in an open boat to save us. And so it really was."

Mimi smiled and blushed.

"Ah, papa, dear," she said, "I dreamed because I hoped. I always hoped, but you always desponded. And now it has been better than our hopes.--But, monsieur, may we not know the name of our deliverer?"

She held out her little hand as she said this. Claude raised it respectfully to his lips, bowing low as he did so. He then gave his name, but hastened to a.s.sure them that he was not their preserver, insisting that Zac had the better claim to that t.i.tle. To this, however, the others listened with polite incredulity, and Mimi evidently considered it all the mere expression of a young man's modesty. She waved her little hand with a sunny smile.

"_Eh bien_," she said, "I see, monsieur, it pains you to have people too grateful; so we will say no more about it. We must satisfy ourselves by remembering and by praying."

Here the conversation was interrupted by the interposition of the Count de Cazeneau, who came forward to add his thanks to those of Laborde. He made a little set speech, to which Claude listened with something of chagrin, for he did not like being placed in the position of general savior and preserver, when he knew that Zac deserved quite as much credit for what had been done as he did. This was not un.o.bserved by Mimi, who appreciated his feelings and came to his relief.

"M. Motier does not like being praised," said she. "Let us respect his delicacy."

But Cazeneau was not to be stopped so easily. He seemed like one who had prepared a speech carefully and with much labor, and was, accordingly, bound to give it all; so Claude was forced to listen to an eloquent and inflated panegyric about himself and his heroism, without being able to offer anything more than an occasional modest disclaimer. And all the time the deep, dark glance of Mimi was fixed on him, as though she would read his soul. If, indeed, he had any skill in reading character, it was easy enough to see in the face of that young man a pure, a lofty, and a generous nature, unsullied by anything mean or low, a guileless and earnest heart, a soul _sans peur et sans reproche_; and it did seem by the expression of her own face as though she had read all this in Claude.

Further conversation of a general nature followed, which served to explain the position of all of them with reference to one another.

Claude was the virtual master of the schooner, since he had chartered it for his own purposes. To all of them, therefore, he seemed first their savior, and secondly their host and entertainer, to whom they were bound to feel chiefly grateful. Yet none the less did they endeavor to include the honest skipper in their grat.i.tude; and Zac came in for a large share of it. Though he could not understand any of the words which they addressed to him, yet he was easily able to guess what they were driving at, and so he modestly disclaimed it all with the expression,--

"O, sho! sho, now! sho, sho!"

They now learned that Claude was on his way to Louisbourg, and that they would thus be able to reach their original destination. They also learned the circ.u.mstances of Zac, and his peculiar unwillingness to trust his schooner inside the harbor of Louisbourg. Zac's scruples were respected by them, though they all declared that there was no real danger. They were sufficiently satisfied to be able to reach any point near Louisbourg, and did not seek to press Zac against his will, or to change his opinion upon a point where it was so strongly expressed.

No sooner had these new pa.s.sengers thus unexpectedly appeared, than a very marked change came over Pere Michel, which to Claude was quite inexplicable. To him and to Zac the good priest had thus far seemed everything that was most amiable and companionable; but now, ever since the moment when he had turned away at the sight of the face of Laborde, he had grown strangely silent, and reticent, and self-absorbed. Old Laborde had made advances which had been coldly repelled. Cazeneau, also, had tried to draw him out, but without success. To the lieutenant only was he at all inclined to unbend. Yet this strange reserve did not last long, and at length Pere Michel regained his old manner, and received the advances of Laborde with sufficient courtesy, while to Mimi he showed that paternal gentleness which had already endeared him to Claude and to Zac.

Several days thus pa.s.sed, during which but little progress was made.

The schooner seemed rather to drift than to sail. Whenever a slight breeze would arise, it was sure to be adverse, and was not of long duration. Then a calm would follow, and the schooner would lie idle upon the bosom of the deep.

During these days Mimi steadily regained her strength; and the bloom and the sprightliness of youth came back, and the roses began to return to her cheeks, and her wan face resumed its plumpness, and her eyes shone with the light of joyousness. Within the narrow confines of a small schooner, Claude was thrown in her way more frequently than could have been the case under other circ.u.mstances; and the situation in which they were placed towards one another connected them more closely, and formed a bond which made an easy way to friendship, and even intimacy. As a matter of course, Claude found her society pleasanter by far than that of any one else on board; while, on the other hand, Mimi did not seem at all averse to his companionship. She seemed desirous to know all about him.

"But, monsieur," she said once, in the course of a conversation, "it seems strange to me that you have lived so long among the English here in America."

"It is strange," said Claude; "and, to tell the truth, I don't altogether understand myself how it has happened."

"Ah, you don't understand yourself how it has happened," repeated Mimi, in a tone of voice that was evidently intended to elicit further confidences.

"No," said Claude, who was not at all unwilling to receive her as his confidante. "You see I was taken away from France when I was an infant."

"When you were an infant!" said Mimi. "How very, very sad!" and saying this, she turned her eyes, with a look full of deepest commiseration, upon him. "And so, of course, you cannot remember anything at all about France."

Claude shook his head.

"No, nothing at all," said he. "But I'm on my way there now; and I hope to see it before long. It's the most beautiful country in all the world--isn't it?'

"Beautiful!" exclaimed Mimi, throwing up her eyes; "there are no words to describe it. It is heaven! Alas! how can I ever bear to live here in this wild and savage wilderness of America!"

"You did not wish to leave France then?" said Claude, who felt touched by this display of feeling.