Chapter 13

There are yet two things in my destiny--
world to roam o'er, and a home with thee.

BYRON.

Eve Effingham slept little: although the motion of the ship had been much
more severe and uncomfortable while contending with head-winds, on no
other occasion were there so many signs of a fierce contention, of the
elements as in this gale. As she lay in her berth, her ear was within a
foot of the roaring waters without, and her frame trembled as she heard
them gurgling so distinctly, that it seemed as if they had already forced
their way through the seams of the planks, and were filling the ship.
Sleep she could not, for a long time, therefore, and during two hours she
remained with closed eyes an entranced and yet startled listener of the
fearful strife that was raging over the ocean. Night had no stillness, for
the roar of the winds and waters was incessant, though deadened by the
intervening decks and sides; but now and then an open door admitted, as it
might be, the whole scene into the cabins. At such moments every sound was
fresh, and frightfully grand,--even the shout of the officer coming to the
ear like a warning cry from the deep.

At length Eve, wearied by her apprehensions even, fell into a troubled
sleep, in which her frightened faculties, however, kept so much on the
alert, that at no time was the roar of the tempest entirely lost to her
sense of hearing. About midnight the glare of a candle crossed her eyes,
and she was broad awake in an instant. On rising in her berth she found
Nanny Sidley, who had so often and so long watched over her infant and
childish slumbers, standing at her side, and gazing wistfully in her face.

"'Tis a dread night, Miss Eve," half whispered the appalled domestic. "I
have not been able to sleep for thinking of you, and of what might happen
on these wide waters!"

"And why of me particularly, my good Nanny?" returned Eve, smiling in the
face of her old nurse as sweetly as the infant smiles in its moments of
tenderness and recollection. "Why so much of me, my excellent Ann?--are
there not others too, worthy of your care? my beloved father--your own
good self--Mademoiselle Viefville--cousin Jack--and--" the warm colour
deepened on the cheek of the beautiful girl, she scarcely knew why
herself--"and many others in the vessel, that one, kind as you, might
think of, I should hope, when your thoughts become apprehensions, and your
wishes prayers."

"There are many precious souls in the ship, ma'am, out of all question;
and I'm sure no one wishes them all safe on land again more than myself;
but it seems to me, no one among them all is so much loved as you."

Eve leaned forward playfully, and