d sounds, to commune
with her own heart, with nature, and with nature's God, while gazing
upon such a scene, at such an hour. "But fast and furious grew the fun,"
and a cry from her babe, whom she had left sleeping in her little cabin,
faint as it was, reached her maternal ear; and she left the revellers,
to attend to the wants of her child.

Josey was fretful and restless, and more than an hour elapsed before
she could hush her again to sleep. She was still lying beside her on her
berth, with the little creature's arms clasped tightly about her neck,
when the ship seemed to reel and lurch, as if suddenly struck by a
tremendous blow. Then came shouts and cries--the trampling of feet, the
creaking of ropes and chains; and still the ship plunged and tossed,
with such a violent motion, that she had to hold to the berth to keep
her feet. What could all this mean?--was she in a dream? Everything was
bright and beautiful above, when she quitted the deck. Whence then came
the confusion of sounds--the hoarse roaring of winds--the dashing of
waves--the fearful tossing to and fro of her ocean home? Flora gently
unclasped the clinging arms of her sleeping babe, and groping her way
through the dark cabin, with great difficulty succeeded in climbing the
companion-ladder, and bringing her head on a level with the deck.

She did not venture higher. She saw enough to convince her that women
had no place amid the horrors of such an awful scene. A sudden squall
from the mountains had struck the ship. The moon had withdrawn her
light; and vast masses of clouds covered the sky, which was before so
clear and brilliant. Vast sheets of foam enveloped the vessel, and huge
billows thundered upon her deck. Not a stitch of canvas was to be seen;
some of the sails had been rent from the mast by the gale; the rest were
close furled. Lyndsay and four other men were at the rudder, to keep
the ship in her course. The roaring of the winds and waves was
deafening. Flora's heart beat violently for a moment, then grew calm
before the grandeur of the scene.

"We are in the hands of God!" she thought; "in life and death we are
His. Submission to His will is the sublimity of faith!"

In the cabin everything was loose. Trunks rolled from side to side. The
mate had removed the light, and utter darkness prevailed. It was a long
time before she could regain her little domicile--the ship pitched with
such violence, that every step brought her to her knees; at