doors. At
length, when she could lie still no longer, she arose, and crept along
the passage to the door of the minister's chamber. 'O, Mr. Porteous,'
she said, 'Mr. Porteous, do ye no hear that?--and poor Saunders on his
way back frae Holland! O, rise, rise, and ask the strong help o' your
Master!' The minister accordingly rose, and entered his closet. The
'Elizabeth' at this critical moment was driving onwards through spray
and darkness, along the northern shores of the Moray Firth. The fearful
skerries of Shandwick, where so many gallant vessels have perished, were
close at hand; and the increasing roll of the sea showed the gradual
shallowing of the water Macivor and his old townsman, Robert Hossack,
stood together at the binnacle. An immense wave came rolling behind, and
they had but barely time to clutch to the nearest hold, when it broke
over them half-mast high, sweeping spars, bulwarks, cordage, all before
it, in its course. It passed, but the vessel rose not. Her deck remained
buried in a sheet of foam, and she seemed settling down by the head.
There was a frightful pause. First, however, the bowsprit and the butts
of the windlass began to emerge--next the forecastle--the vessel seemed
as if shaking herself from the load; and then the whole deck appeared,
as she went tilting over the next wave. 'There are still more mercies in
store for us,' said Macivor, addressing his companion: 'she floats
still' 'O, Saunders, Saunders!' exclaimed Robert, 'there was surely some
God's soul at work for us, or she would never have _cowed_ you.'"
_Edinburgh: Printed by M'Farlane & Erskine._
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