Part 18

But from that time, during the seven days and nights which followed, Elizabeth never lost hope. When she told the story of those days, she simply said that she put her trust in God, and that she believed He would bring her safely to land. For a whole week she never slept, but every now and then stood up and looked around for the sail which never appeared, or for the light which, shining through the darkness, should give token that help was at hand. Once indeed she saw the red light of a ship, and her heart beat high; but the vessel went on its way, knowing nothing of the lonely voyager.

The two biscuits were carefully hoarded, but at last not a crumb remained, and for four days she was without food. But in telling her tale, Elizabeth said that she suffered more from wet and from thirst than from hunger. To allay her thirst, she used to lick the drops of rain from the window panes. At last, becoming too weak to keep her constant watch, she tied herself close to the hatchway, fearing lest she might roll away from her post of observation, and be unable to get back to it. And so, for eight days, the Columbine and her passenger--so weak and helpless in herself, so strong in her trust in God--drifted over the wild waves of the North Sea.

It was on Sunday morning, February 7th, that a vessel which had lost her mast came ashore among the rocks near Aalesund, in sight of a crowd of Norwegian villagers. As she drifted in, a woman's head was distinctly seen, and a brave young fisherman, taking a rope with him, swam out to her, climbed on board, and found Elizabeth tied to the hatchway, still alive, still confident.

She was drawn ashore by the rope, and thus her long voyage to Norway ended. She found herself among strangers truly, who spoke a tongue unknown to her, but was kindly cared for at a farm-house, until she was sufficiently recovered to be sent home to Shetland, where she received a letter which must have, indeed surprised and pleased her. It was from our gracious Queen, and contained a present for Elizabeth of twenty pounds. I am sure you will like to read the letter, so here it is:

"WINDSOR CASTLE, March 27th, 1886.

"The Queen has been much touched by the account of the sufferings of Miss Mouat, and was pleased to learn, by her brother's letter of the 20th, that she is recovering her strength."

Do you not think Elizabeth must be very proud and pleased to show the Queen's letter to those who ask her about her voyage to Norway?

A Norwegian gentleman, writing about the place where the dismasted, unpiloted vessel drifted ashore, says:

"Had not the Columbine been steered by an invisible but almighty Hand, she would never have got clear of the thousands of rocks. So furious was the storm that all the boats not taken ashore went down at their moorings; and yet the Columbine escaped the network of rocks and skerries, and picked out the only place where she could have beached!"

Elizabeth did not see the Lord Jesus walking upon the waves, and drawing near to her in the dark night, as the disciples did; but surely she heard His voice through the storm, hushing her spirit, and saying to her, as He did to them, "It is I; be not afraid."

I know a little girl, older than Sharley or May, who is fond of repeating a beautiful poem about the storm on the Lake of Galilee. Perhaps you would like to learn it for your next hymn. It is called

"TO YONDER SIDE."

"Behind the hills of Naphtali The sun went slowly down, Leaving on mountain, tower, and tree A tinge of golden brown.

"The cooling breath of evening woke The waves of Galilee, Till on the shore the waters broke In softest melody.

"'Now launch the bark,' the Saviour cried; The chosen Twelve stood by; 'And let us cross to yonder side, Where the hills are steep and high.'

"Gently the bark o'er the waters creeps, While the swelling sail they spread; And the wearied Saviour gently sleeps, With a pillow 'neath His head.

"On downy bed the world seeks rest; Sleep flies the guilty eye; But he who leans on the Father's breast, May sleep when storms are nigh.

"But soon the lowering sky grew dark O'er Bashan's rocky brow; The storm rushed down upon the bark, And waves dashed o'er the prow.

"The pale disciples trembling spake, While yawned the watery grave; 'We perish, Master--Master, wake; Carest Thou not to save?'

"Calmly He rose with sovereign will, And hushed the storm to rest; 'Ye waves,' He whispered, 'Peace, be still!' They calmed like a pardoned breast.

"So have I seen a fearful storm O'er wakened sinner roll, Till Jesus' voice and Jesus' form Said, 'Peace, thou weary soul'

"And now He bends His gentle eye His wondering followers o'er; 'Why raise this unbelieving cry? I said, To yonder shore.'

"When first the Saviour wakened me, And showed me why He died, He pointed o'er life's narrow sea, And said, 'To yonder side.'

"'I am the ark where Noah dwelt, And heard the deluge roar-- No soul can perish that has left My res--To yonder shore.'

"Peaceful and calm the tide of life When first I sailed with Thee; My sins forgiven, no inward strife, My breast a glassy sea.

"But soon the storm of passion raves; My soul is tempest tossed; Corruptions rise, like angry waves-- 'Help, Master, I am lost!'

"'Peace, peace, be still, thou raging breast: My fulness is for thee'-- The Saviour speaks, and all is rest, Like the waves of Galilee.

"And now I feel His holy eye Upbraids my heart of pride-- 'Why raise this unbelieving cry? I said, To yonder side.'"