The Argosy — page 246: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Fenny Morris's Voyage. 231 San Francisco. The £iiza Jones was also short of stores; and she sent a boat off to the ZzeAtuznmg with two men in her. They came on board, and they had much to tell of shortness of provisions and absence of comfort on their own vessel; averring that they had chiefly lived lately upon fruit~of which they had an abun- dance. Now fruit was the very thing especially wanted on the Lightning: but tins of meat, which the Z/iza Jones lacked, were there in abun- dance. An exchange was arranged. ‘Tins and biscuit were given to the strangers, and one of the Zzghzning’s boats, with a man or two in her and also Mr. Dacey, put off to the Ziza Jones to bring back the fruit. Sitting on the deck an hour afterwards, it struck Jenny that the sea was rising. She spoke of it to the first mate. “Why yes, Miss Morris, it is,” was the reply. ‘If it goes on that boat won’t be able to come back again.” With a strange throbbing at the heart, Jenny sprang up and peered anxiously in the direction where the Zuiza Jones had been. It was gone now, entirely gone; the tumultuous waves hid it: and the sea was getting worse with every minute. Somebody coolly said in her hearing that they had parted with the boat for good. ‘Good heavens!” thought Jenny. “What shall I do?” There was one thing before her, and she did it. Into her cabin she shut herself, and cried and prayed by turns. In her terror she feared that they might start to réturn, and not finding the ship, go beating about till they were lost. This almost deprived her of reason, and she spent a night in which she thought the misery of a lifetime was crowded. At daybreak, looking out, she heard some sailors laughing on the deck at the sudden change in quarters of their two shipmates. Their tones reassured her; they never mentioned danger, and she, as unconcernedly as she could, enquired of them whether they feared any. ‘Danger! not a bit on’t,” was the rough and hearty answer. Keeping up a quiet exterior, Jenny went in to breakfast as usual, and found, to her infinite surprise, looks of sympathy and condolence on every face. Mrs. Webb spoke to her for the first time since the night on which she had sprained her ankle. Her tone was not free from mild reproach, but it was studiously kind. ‘Take this chair, Miss Morris,” she remarked, in the manner of one bestowing a boon; “‘ and steward, bring Miss Morris some nice strong tea.” Mr. Bumble added to her consternation by dividing a slice of toast and handing it to her with a sigh. But Madame Freep was the most ardent in her solicitude. ‘Take a little fish, young lady ; you'd better eat what you can. I’m sure you need all you can get, fora miserable ship isn’t the place to get the delicacies you should have.” GOMGIOOKS (EO)