The mate of the ship, who
heard her stir, came to offer her some refreshment; and she, who formerly
received every offer of kindness or civility with pleasure, now shrunk away
disgusted: peevishly she desired him not to disturb her; but the words were
hardly articulated when her heart smote her, she called him back, and requested
something to drink. After drinking it, fatigued by her mental exertions, she
fell into a death-like slumber, which lasted some hours; but did not refresh her, on the contrary, she awoke languid and stupid.
The wind still continued
contrary; a week, a dismal week, had she struggled with
her sorrows; and the struggle brought on a slow fever, which sometimes gave her
false spirits.
The winds then became very
tempestuous, the Great Deep was troubled, and all the passengers appalled. Mary
then left her bed, and went on deck, to survey the contending elements: the
scene accorded with the present state of her soul; she thought in a few hours I
may go home; the prisoner may be released. The vessel rose on a wave and
descended into a yawning gulph—Not
slower did her mounting soul return to earth, for—Ah! her
treasure and her heart was there. The squalls rattled amongst the sails, which
were quickly taken down; the wind would then die away, and the wild undirected
waves rushed on every side with a tremendous roar. In a little vessel in the
midst of such a storm she was not dismayed; she felt
herself independent.
Just then one of the crew
perceived a signal of distress; by the help of a glass he could plainly
discover a small vessel dismasted, drifted about, for the rudder had been
broken by the violence of the storm. Mary's thoughts were now all engrossed by
the crew on the brink of destruction. They bore down to the wreck; they reached
it, and hailed the trembling wretches; at the sound of the friendly greeting,
loud cries of tumultuous joy were mixed with the roaring of the waves, and with
ecstatic transport they leaped on the shattered deck, launched their boat in a
moment, and committed themselves to the mercy of the sea. Stowed between two
casks, and leaning on a sail, she watched the boat, and when a wave intercepted
it from her view—she ceased to breathe, or rather held
her breath until it rose again.
At last the boat arrived safe along-side the ship, and Mary caught the poor
trembling wretches as they stumbled into it, and joined them in thanking that
gracious Being, who though He had not thought fit to still the raging of the
sea, had afforded them unexpected succour.
Amongst the wretched crew was
one poor woman, who fainted when she was hauled on board: Mary undressed her,
and when she had recovered, and soothed her, left her to enjoy the rest she
required to recruit her strength, which fear had quite exhausted. She returned
again to view the angry deep; and when she gazed on its perturbed state, she
thought of the Being who rode on the wings of the wind, and stilled the noise
of the sea; and the madness of the people—He only could
speak peace to her troubled spirit! she grew more
calm; the late transaction had gratified her benevolence, and stole her out of
herself.
One of the sailors, happening
to say to another, "that he believed the world was going to be at an
end;" this observation led her into a new train of thoughts: some of
Handel's sublime compositions occurred to her, and she sung them to the grand
accompaniment. The Lord God Omnipotent reigned, and would reign for ever, and
ever!—Why then did she fear the sorrows that were passing away, when she knew
that He would bind up the broken-hearted, and receive those who came out of
great tribulation. She retired to her cabin; and wrote in the little book that
was now her only confident. It was after midnight.
"At
this solemn hour, the great day of judgment fills my thoughts; the day of
retribution, when the secrets of all hearts will be revealed; when all worldly
distinctions will fade away, and be no more seen. I have not words to express
the sublime images which the bare contemplation of this awful day raises in my
mind. Then, indeed, the Lord Omnipotent will reign, and He will wipe the
tearful eye, and support the trembling heart—yet a little while He hideth his face, and the dun shades of sorrow, and the
thick clouds of folly separate us from our God; but when the glad dawn of an
eternal day breaks, we shall know even as we are known. Here we walk by faith,
and not by sight; and we have this alternative, either to enjoy the pleasures
of life which are but for a season, or look forward to
the prize of our high calling, and with fortitude, and that wisdom which is
from above, endeavour to bear the warfare of life. We
know that many run the race; but he that striveth obtaineth the crown of victory. Our race is an arduous one!
How many are betrayed by traitors lodged in their own breasts, who wear the
garb of Virtue, and are so near akin; we sigh to think they should ever lead
into folly, and slide imperceptibly into vice. Surely any thing like happiness
is madness! Shall probationers of an hour presume to pluck the fruit of
immortality, before they have conquered death? it is
guarded, when the great day, to which I allude, arrives, the way will again be
opened. Ye dear delusions, gay deceits, farewel! and yet I cannot
banish ye for ever; still does my panting soul push forward, and live in
futurity, in the deep shades o'er which darkness hangs.—I try to pierce the
gloom, and find a resting-place, where my thirst of knowledge will be
gratified, and my ardent affections find an object to fix them. Every thing
material must change; happiness and this fluctating
principle is not compatible. Eternity, immateriality,
and happiness,—what are ye? How shall I grasp the mighty and fleeting
conceptions ye create?"
After writing, serenely she
delivered her soul into the hands of the Father of Spirits; and slept in peace.