She, poor creature, knew of no presence but God's in that awful
hour, and spoke in a low voice to Him.
"My heart's darlings are taken away from me. Faith! faith! Oh, my great
God! I will die in peace, if Thou wilt but grant me faith in this terrible
hour, to feel that Thou wilt take care of my poor orphans. Hush! dearest
Billy," she cried out shrill to a little fellow in the boat waiting for his
mother; and the change in her voice from despair to a kind of cheerfulness,
showed what a mother's love can do. "Mother will come soon. Hide his face,
Anne, and wrap your shawl tight round him." And then her voice sank down
again in the same low, wild prayer for faith. Maggie could not turn to see
her face, but took the hand which hung near her. The woman clutched at it
with the grasp of a vice; but went on praying, as if unconscious. Just then
the crowd gave way a little. The captain had said, that the women were to
go next; but they were too frenzied to obey his directions, and now pressed
backward and forward. The sailors, with mute, stern obedience, strove to
follow out the captain's directions. Edward pulled Maggie, and she kept her
hold on the mother. The mate, at the head of the gangway, pushed him back.
"Only women are to go!"
"There are men there."
"Three, to manage the boat."
"Come on, Maggie! while there's room for us," said he, unheeding. But
Maggie drew back, and put the mother's hand into the mate's.
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