In the hurry and confusion of taking to the boats, none recollected that there was still a child on board--the child of the unfortunate lady who had just perished; or, if any did recollect this, none chose to run the risk of missing the opportunity of escape presented by the boats, by going in search of the hapless child, who was at that moment below in the cabin. In the meantime, the overloaded boats--for they were much too small to carry the numbers who were now crowded into them, especially in such a sea as was then raging--had pushed off, and were labouring to gain the shore. It was a destination they were doomed never to reach. Before they had got half-way, both boats were swamped--the one immediately after the other--and all on board perished, after a brief struggle with the roaring and tumbling waves that were bellowing around them.
From this moment, the storm, as if now satisfied with the mischief it had wrought, began to abate. In half an hour it had altogether subsided; and the waves, though still rolling heavily, had lost the violence and energy of their former motion. They seemed worn out and exhausted by their late fury.
The crew of the unfortunate vessel had left her, as we have said, in the expectation that she would shortly go to pieces; but it would have been better for them had they had more confidence in her strength, and remained by her; for, strange to tell, she withstood the fury of the elements, and, though sorely battered and shaken, her dark hull still rested securely on the rock on which she had struck. The wreck of the _Isabella_ had been witnessed from the shore by a crowd of the natives, who had assembled directly opposite the fatal reef on which she had struck. They would fain have gone out in their canoes to the unfortunate vessel when she first struck, as was made evident by some unsuccessful attempts they made to paddle towards her; but whether with a friendly or hostile purpose, cannot be known. On the storm subsiding, however, they renewed their attempts. A score of canoes started for the wreck, reached it, and, in an instant after, the deck of the unfortunate vessel was covered with wild Indians. Whooping and yelling in the savage excitement occasioned by the novelty of everything around, they flew madly about the deck, scrambled down into the hold, tore open bales and packages, and possessed themselves of whatever most attracted their whimsical and capricious fancies. While some were thus occupied in the hold, others were ransacking the cabin. It was here, and at this moment, that a scene of extraordinary interest took place. A huge savage, who was peering curiously into one of the cabin beds, suddenly uttered a yell, so piercing and unusual, that it attracted the notice of all his wild companions; then, plunging his hand into the bed, drew forth, and held up to the wondering gaze of the latter, a beautiful little girl of about three years old. It was the daughter of the unfortunate Mrs Elderslie. The unconscious child had slept during the whole of the catastrophe, which had deprived her, first of her parent, and subsequently of her protectors, and had only awoke with the shout of the savage who now held her in his powerful, but not unfriendly grasp; for he seemed delighted with his prize. He hugged the infant in his bosom, looked at it, laughed over it, and performed a thousand antics expressive of his admiration and affection for the fair and blooming child of which he had thus strangely become possessed. The child, for some time, expressed great terror of her new protector and his sable companions, calling loudly on her mother; but the anxious and eager endearments of the former gradually calmed her fears and quieted her cries.