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Business Database Technology

Shouhong Wang
Hai Wang

Universal-Publishers
Irvine • Boca Raton
 Business Database Technology: An Integrative Approach to Data Resource Management with Practical
Project Guides, Presentation Slides, Answer Keys to Hands-on Exercises for Students in Business Programs

Copyright © 2022 Shouhong Wang and Hai Wang. All rights reserved. No part of this
publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means,
including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the
prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in
critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Universal Publishers, Inc.

Irvine, California & Boca Raton, Florida • USA
www.Universal-Publishers.com
2022

ISBN: 978-1-62734- 389-3 (pbk.)

ISBN: 978-1-62734-390-9 (ebk.)

For permission to photocopy or use material electronically from this work, please access
www.copyright.com or contact the Copyright Clearance Center, Inc. (CCC) at 978-750-8400.
CCC is a not-for-profit organization that provides licenses and registration for a variety of
users. For organizations that have been granted a photocopy license by the CCC, a separate
system of payments has been arranged.

ORACLE, MySQL are trademarks of Oracle Corporation. IBM DB2 is trademark of IBM.
Windows, Microsoft SQL Server, Microsoft Office, Microsoft Access, Microsoft Excel, and
Microsoft Visual Studio are trademarks of Microsoft Corporation.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Wang, Shouhong, author. | Wang, Hai, 1973- author.

Title: Business database technology : theories and design process of relational databases, SQL,
introduction to OLAP, overview of NoSQL databases / Shouhong Wang, Hai Wang.
Description: 2nd edition. | Irvine, California : Universal Publishers, [2022] | Includes index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2022009734 (print) | LCCN 2022009735 (ebook) | ISBN 9781627343893
(paperback) | ISBN 9781627343909 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Business--Databases. | Information technology--Technological innovations.
| Database management. | Database design. | Management information systems.
Classification: LCC HF5548.2 .W2992 2022 (print) | LCC HF5548.2 (ebook) | DDC 005.74--
dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022009734
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022009735
 Table of Contents

PREFACE
CHAPTER 1. INTRODUCTION
1.1. Database Technology
1.2. Data Are Resource of the Organization
1.3. Data, Information, Knowledge
1.4. Common Mistakes in Data Resource Management
1.5. Control Data Redundancy
1.6. Database and Database System
1.7. Database Management Systems
1.8. Commonly Used DBMS for Relational Databases
CHAPTER 2. DATA STRUCTURE TECHNIQUES FOR DATABASES
2.1. Secondary Storage
2.2. File, Record, Attribute, and Key
2.3. Pointer
2.4. Basic File Organizations
2.4.1. Sequential file
2.4.2. Random file
2.4.3. Indexed file
2.5. B-tree
2.5.1. Overview of B-tree
2.5.2. Construction of B-tree
2.5.3. B-tree maintenance
CHAPTER 3. DATA MODELS
3.1. Overview of Data Models
3.2. ER Model
 3.3. Entity, Attribute, and Primary Key
3.4. Relationship
3.5. Instrument for Implementing 1:1 and 1:M Relationships – Foreign Key
3.6. Instrument for Implementing M:M Relationships – Associative Entity
3.7. Summary of ERD Convention
3.8. Construction of ERD
3.8.1. Transcript
3.8.2. Sample datasheets
3.8.3. Redundant relationships in ERD
3.8.4. Iterations of ERD construction
CHAPTER 4. RELATIONAL DATABASE
4.1. Relational Data Model and Tables
4.2. Candidate Key and Alternative Key
4.3. Conversion of the ER Model to the Relational Data Model
4.4. Data Retrieval from Relational Database
4.5. Referential Integrity
CHAPTER 5. NORMALIZATION AND LOGICAL DATABASE
DESIGN
5.1. Normalization
5.2. Functional Dependency
5.3. Normal Forms
5.3.1. Unnormalized form
5.3.2. Conversion from 0NF to a normal form
5.3.3. First Normal Form (1NF)
5.3.4. Data redundancy and data modification anomaly
5.3.5. Partial key dependency in 1NF table, and normalize 1NF into 2NF
5.3.6. Second Normal Form (2NF) and non-key dependency
5.3.7. Normalize 2NF table with non-key dependency into 3NF
5.3.8. Summary of normalization procedure from 0NF to 3NF
 5.3.9. Boyce-Codd Normal Form (BCNF)
5.3.10. Normalize 3NF table with reverse dependency into BCNF
5.3.11. Fourth Normal Form (4NF)
5.3.12. Normalize BCNF table with multivalued dependency into 4NF
5.4. The Nature of Normalization and Higher-Level Normal Forms
5.5. Logical Database Design
CHAPTER 6. DATABASE PROCESSING AND SQL
6.1. Introduction to SQL
6.2. CREATE and DROP
6.3. INSERT, UPDATE, DELETE
6.4. Query - SELECT
6.5. WHERE Clause and Comparison
6.6. User Input Request
6.7. ORDER BY Clause
6.8. Aggregate Functions
6.9. GROUP BY Clause and HAVING Clause
6.10. Arithmetic Operations
6.11. Joining Tables
6.12. Alternative Format of Inner Join, and Outer Join
6.13. Subquery
6.13.1. Subquery - reducing computational workload of join operation in simple cases
6.13.2. Subquery as an alternative to GROUP BY
6.13.3. Subquery - representing a variable
6.13.4. Subquery - determining an uncertain criterion
6.14. UNION Operator
6.15. Tactics for Writing SQL Queries
6.16. SQL Embedded in Host Computer Programming Languages
CHAPTER 7. PHYSICAL DATABASE DESIGN
 7.1. Physical Design
7.2. Adding Index
7.3. Adding Subschema
7.4. Clustering Tables
7.5. Merging Tables
7.6. Horizontal Partitioning Table
7.7. Vertical Partitioning Table
7.8. Creating New Primary Key
7.9. Substituting Foreign Key
7.10. Duplicating Table or Duplicating Part of Partitioned Table
7.11. Storing Information (Processed Data)
7.12. Implementation of Physical Database Design
CHAPTER 8. DATABASE IN COMPUTER NETWORKS
8.1. Centralized Database in the Local Area Network Environment
8.2. Centralized Database in the Internet Environment
8.3. Distributed Databases
8.4. XML for Databases
CHAPTER 9. DATA WAREHOUSE
9.1. Enterprise Data Management and Data Warehouse
9.2. Multidimensional Data and Data Cube
9.3. Creating Data Cube in Relational Databases
CHAPTER 10. DATABASE ADMINISTRATION
10.1. Data Planning and Database Design
10.2. Data Coordination
10.3. Data Security, Access Policies, and Data Ownership
10.4. Data Quality
10.5. Database Performance
 10.6. Data Standards, Data Dictionary, and Documentation
10.7. User Training and Help Desk Support
10.8. Database Backup and Recovery
10.9. Data Archiving
10.10. Database Maintenance
10.11. Managing Business Data Rules Related to the Database Design
CHAPTER 11. ONLINE ANALYTICAL PROCESSING (OLAP)
11.1. Introduction to OLAP
11.2. Microsoft Office Environment for OLAP
11.3. An Example of OLAP
11.4. Business Intelligence and Data Mining
11.5. Data Resource for Organizational Knowledge Development
CHAPTER 12. NoSQL DATABASES
12.1. NoSQL Databases
12.2. An Illustrative Example of NoSQL Database
12.3. Basic Types of NoSQL Databases
12.3.1. Key-value-based
12.3.2. Document-oriented
12.3.3. Graph-based
12.3.4. Column-based
12.4. Examples of NoSQL Database Management Systems
TECHNICAL GUIDE A. CONSTRUCTING DATABASE USING
MICROSOFT ACCESS
TECHNICAL GUIDE B. AN EXAMPLE OF NORMALIZATION BASED
ON DATASHEET SAMPLES
ANSWERS TO EXERCISE QUESTIONS AND REVIEWS
INDEX
** Electronic teaching material for this textbook includes model syllabus, answers to all
assignment questions, sample exams, answers of the exams, the Microsoft Access database
for the textbook SQL examples, Microsoft Access database for Technical Guide A, and
others.
 PREFACE

Data are valuable assets of the organization. Database is a key component of

the information systems in business. Database technology is critically
important to business. This book is written for business students who study
database technology for data resource management.
The database management systems are powerful tools for constructing and
accessing databases. Currently, many user-friendly relational database
management systems are available on the commercial software market or are
accessible as open-source software products. However, many people do not
fully understand accurate concepts of database. In fact, poorly designed
databases or misuse of database management systems would do more harm
than good for the organization. The objective of this book is to help students
understand the precise concepts of database and develop practical skills of
database design, implementation, and application. Upon the completion of
study of this book, students should be able to build and to manage databases
in a professional way. More importantly, students should be able to develop
their independent learning ability to learn advanced features of database
design, implementation, application, and management.
Information technology (IT) has been the most innovative field. Ironically,
after it was first introduced to the computational world longer than four
decades ago, the relational database model is still the most popular database
model in business organizations. Although research into object-oriented
databases and NoSQL databases has been carrying on for many years,
relational databases are still the main stream of databases in business. There is
no evidence that the relational database model will phase-out any soon.
There have been hundreds of textbooks of database on the market. Given
the long history of database, many database textbooks were written decades
ago and revised for numerous times. The volumes of these database textbooks
are usually huge since they contain many secondary contents which might be
useful decades ago but are no longer essential to know, especially for business
students. On the other hand, contemporary topics, such as physical database
design, database applications for business intelligence (e.g., OLAP) and
NoSQL databases are lacking in these textbooks. Furthermore, some
textbooks are totally database management systems independent, but others
seem to over-emphasize specific database management systems (e.g., Oracle or
Microsoft Access). This book maintains a good balance between the core
concepts and secondary concepts, and includes both basic knowledge of
database and hands-on material for Microsoft Access, a widely available end-
user oriented relational database management system. In this book, a huge
amount of material about database design, implementation, and application is
distilled into a practically workable volume.
The book is self-contained. It includes twelve chapters of fundamentals of
database technology, sufficient problem solving exercise questions for each
chapter, answers to the representative exercise questions, key learning
objectives of each chapter, two appendices for projects of database
technology applications.
The book is organized as follows. Chapter 1 provides an overview of
database systems. It highlights the key difference between data, information,
and knowledge, as well as the key concept of data redundancy. Chapter 2
introduces the important data structure techniques that are commonly used in
databases. Chapter 3 describes the entity-relationship model which is a key
element of the foundation of database design. Chapter 4 discusses the
relational database model. It ties the entity-relationship model with the
relational database model. Chapter 5 provides details of normalization process
which is another key element of the foundation of database design. Chapter 6
explains SQL, a standard database processing language. Chapter 7 discusses
the concept and major techniques of physical database design which is critical
for large-scale databases. Chapter 8 discusses the major database
administration functions. Chapter 9 discusses the key concept of distributed
databases in the Internet environment. Chapter 10 discusses high-dimensional
data in relational databases in the data warehouse context. Chapter 11
discusses online analytical processing (OLAP), a fundamental business
intelligence and analytics tool based on relational databases. Chapter 12
discusses NoSQL databases and explain concepts of “not only SQL”
databases. Technical Guide A is a tutorial of database implementation and
application through the use of Microsoft Access. Technical Guide B is a
tutorial of data normalization process and ERD construction based on data
samples. Answers to selected exercise questions and review sheets for each
chapter are attached at the end of the book.
Nowadays, students and business managers are the digital generation. They
expect to learn more about information technologies to meet the challenge of
the “big data problem” in business. The vast amount of data creates an
increasing degree of needs as well as pressure for business organizations to
understand and use databases. We believe that the basic foundation of
database technology and data resources management is valuable knowledge for
business students.
In summary, this textbook is written for university students in all majors
who study business database technology for data resource management in
business.

Shouhong Wang, PhD

Commonwealth Professor
University of Massachusetts Dartmouth

Hai Wang, PhD

Professor
Saint Mary’s University
 CHAPTER 1. INTRODUCTION

1.1. Database Technology

Database technology includes theories and application methodologies of
information systems that manage, access, and process data. Database
technology is critically important for business in many aspects.
• Database technology supports database development for organizations.
Database design and business process design are two parallel procedures for
organizational information systems development.
• Database technology empowers organizations to manage data resources to
meet the challenges of the “Big Data Problem”. Big data is a collection of
data sets that are large and complex. Generally, big data is characterized by
three dimensions: volume (amount of data), velocity (speed of data in and
out), and variety (range of data types and sources). The major objective of big
data analysis is to discover interesting facts and patterns from large data sets.
The challenges of big data analytics include data capture, preservation, storage,
search, sharing, transfer, analysis, and visualization.
• Database technology enables the society and business organizations to
develop organizational knowledge and to sustain organizational learning.

1.2. Data Are Resource of the Organization

Data are valuable resource of the organization. Data can be used for the
organization in day-to-day operations as well as in developing competitive
advantages. There are many types of data in business. For the time being, no
commonly accepted taxonomy of data is available, but the following types of
data can be readily observed in business organizations.
• Master data (e.g., customers)
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 No, dear Janie, poor innocent child! and you, my beloved one, do
not fear. I will shield both the weak and the strong; you shall not
suffer for my imprudence or my guilt.
Yet how to comfort, how to cure, how to make up to her for the
misery I have entailed on her dear head? Oh, my God! the task will
be a hard one!
 CHAPTER III.
August 11th.—I returned from parade this morning tired, feverish,
and with a weight upon my conscience as though I had committed
an unpardonable crime. I felt as if I dared not face my injured wife,
still less the woman who has usurped her place in my affections, or
rather who holds the place in which the other should have reigned.
Yet I was not only obliged to encounter both of them, but to go
through all the formalities of daily life, without which perhaps the
trial would have proved too much for my endurance.
Janie was the first; for since her illness she has not risen to
breakfast, and I have been in the habit of carrying in her tray for
her. It was with a shaking hand that I lifted it to-day; and the poor
child noticed the difference in my demeanour, and asked me tenderly
if I were ill or tired. I had not quite made up my mind, before that,
whether I should inform Janie of her cousin’s propensity for
somnambulism or not; but as I met the trusting glance of her blue
eyes, I resolved to do so, not only because it was a thing which
might occur again and frighten her as before, but also that by
confiding even so far in my wife, I seemed voluntarily to place a
wider barrier between Lionne and myself. Therefore I sat down on
the bed, and first binding her to secrecy, I related to her how I had
spent my late nights upon the roof of the house, and by that means
arrived at a solution of the mystery which had alarmed the native
servants and herself.
‘Didn’t I tell you that your ghost would prove to be nothing?’ I
said, trying to speak gaily, in conclusion.
 ‘Oh, Robert dear,’ was her reply, ‘do you call poor Lionne walking
in her sleep nothing? I think it is horrible—almost as bad as a real
ghost; and if I had been you, I couldn’t have gone near her for
worlds. I should have died of fright first.’
‘But, Janie, you see that I am not a silly little girl, ready to believe
every idle tale which is repeated to her. And you must show yourself
to be a wise woman on this occasion, and be very careful that the
story does not reach your cousin’s ears, as the knowledge is likely to
make her worse instead of better. I shall give the ayah orders to hold
her tongue, and sleep outside the door in future, so that Miss
Anstruther may not wander about again unobserved.’
‘And I mustn’t tell Lionne, then, that you caught her?’ said Janie,
in a voice of disappointment.
‘Certainly not,’ I replied, decidedly; and I rose to leave her, only
half-satisfied that my wishes would be respected. Janie would not
disobey me knowingly for the world—she has never attempted such
a thing; but her little tongue goes so fast, that she is apt to part with
a secret before she knows that it has left her keeping.
When I returned to the breakfast-room, Lionne was already there,
pale indeed and rather silent, as she has been for several weeks
past, but showing no signs that she was aware of our nocturnal
meeting. But as I took her hand in mine, I felt the blood rush up to
my temples, and my morning greeting must have been nearly
unintelligible to her.
Why did I behave so foolishly? She is in all respects the same
woman whom I met yesterday with an ordinary salutation—her
manner even has not altered towards me; and yet the mere
consciousness that that of which I had been vaguely dreaming is
reality, was sufficient to make me almost betray what I feel by the
expression of my features.
Is this my boasted strength?
We took a silent meal, and altogether an unprofitable one. I had
no appetite; Lionne only trifled with the eatables upon her plate; and
I think we both felt relieved when the ceremony was concluded.
I did not see her for the remainder of the morning, for I made an
excuse of business, and took my tiffin at the mess. When I returned
home at five o’clock, however, I found Janie earnestly persuading
her cousin to take a ride on horseback.
‘Do make her go, Robert dear,’ she exclaimed, as soon as I came
upon the scene of action. ‘She has not ridden for weeks past, and
she does look so pale. I am sure it will be good for her; you know it
will, Robert,’ with violent winks and blinks which were sufficient in
themselves to make the uninitiated stop to inquire their reason.
‘I daresay it will,’ I answered, obliged to say something. ‘Won’t you
be persuaded?’ addressing Lionne.
She hesitated a little, but had no good reason to advance for her
hesitation; and after a little more pressing on Janie’s part, retired to
put on her habit.
‘I am so glad that she is going,’ exclaimed my poor little caged
bird, clapping her hands at her success. ‘Take great care of her,
Robert; she is so kind to me.’
‘I will take care of her, Janie,’ I answered, earnestly, ‘and of you
too. You may trust me, my dear; at least I hope so.’
‘Of course you take care of me, sir,’ she replied, with a pretty
pretension of pouting, ‘because I am your wife; but I am not so sure
about my poor cousin.’
‘Be sure, then, Janie, if you can. I shall try to do my duty by both
of you.’
‘Who talked of duty?’ cried my wife, shrugging her shoulders. ‘I
never saw any one grown so grave as you have, Robert; you never
seem now to be able to take a joke.’
I defended myself from this accusation on the plea of having
found several grey hairs in my moustache last week; and before
Janie had done laughing at the idea, Miss Anstruther reappeared,
and I lifted her on her horse as though she were an ordinary friend
to me, and my hands did not tremble under the burden of the
creature I loved best in the world.
We rode on in silence together for some moments, and then I
turned my horse’s head towards the sandy plain which I have before
mentioned as lying between us and the ocean, and told her that I
was about to take her down to the beach, that she might derive a
little benefit from the sea-breeze.
‘Colonel Anstruther will not think that we have been taking
sufficient care of you, Margaret, if we send you to him with such
pale cheeks as you have now. I am afraid you find the hot weather
very trying.’
‘I never liked the hot weather, even in England,’ she answered
vaguely, whilst the rich blood mounted to her cheek beneath the
scrutinising glance which I had turned towards her.
Our beach at Mushin-Bunda is hardly to be called a beach; for it
possesses scarcely any shingles, but is composed of hillocks of loose
sand which never stay in one place two nights together, but are ever
shifting quarters, and are about as treacherous footing for an animal
as one could desire. We passed over these carefully, however, and
then we found ourselves upon the lower sands, which are daily
washed by the sea, and rendered firm and level. Here we halted; for
it was low tide, and the refreshing salt breeze fanned our hot faces,
whilst the horses we rode stretched out their necks, and dilated their
nostrils as though to drink in as much of it as they could.
Still we were very silent, and under the knowledge which had
come to me the night before, the silence was even more oppressive
than usual.
‘This is delicious!’ I exclaimed at last; ‘worth coming farther than
three miles to enjoy. This will do you good, Margaret.’
‘Yes,’ she sighed. ‘What would one not give for a little of it
occasionally during these hot nights!’
 ‘You do not sleep well,’ I said, struck by a sudden impulse.
She coloured as I addressed her; but that is nothing new.
‘I don’t think I sleep badly,’ she replied, after a pause. ‘I seldom lie
awake for any length of time, but—’
‘But when you rise in the morning, you feel unrefreshed and tired.’
‘How do you know that?’ she demanded quickly.
‘I guessed it, Margaret. I guess it from your looks, your
demeanour, your languor. I know that you do not rest properly at
night, and that if you will not take seasonable advice you will be ill.’
‘I am not ill,’ she answered in a low voice.
‘But you will be, which, under present circumstances, would
greatly distress Janie. Will you not consent to see a doctor—if not for
your own sake, for ours?’
I thought that physical care might in some measure relieve the
mental disturbance under which she labours, or, at all events,
prevent a repetition of her somnambulistic tendencies by which her
secret may, some day, be made patent to the world. I never
imagined she would guess my meaning; but the next moment I saw
the mistake which I had made.
‘What have I been doing?’ she exclaimed, turning round with a
rapidity for which I was totally unprepared. ‘What have I been
saying? Tell me at once, Captain Norton; don’t keep me in suspense.’
And her dark eyes blazed upon me as though they would search into
my very heart.
I trembled beneath the look, and was dumb.
‘Why do you think I cannot rest—that I shall be ill?’ she re-
demanded almost angrily; and then reading the truth, I suppose, in
my confused demeanour, she added in a lower voice, a voice almost
of terror, Have I been walking in my sleep?’
The ice was broken, then; and although I still felt very
uncomfortable in speaking to her of the circumstance, I did not see
any other course open to me than to tell her briefly of my endeavour
to find out the reason of my wife’s alarm, and the consequences
which had ensued from it.
‘I had not wished to mention this to you,’ I said apologetically,
‘and only the directness of your question should have drawn it from
me. However, as it is, I daresay it is for the best; for though the
occurrence is a common one, it is as well to guard against its
repetition.’
‘What did I say?’ was the only reply which she made to my
concluding observation.
I had so slurred over the fact of her speaking at all that I hoped it
had escaped her notice; but the tone in which she put this question
portended that she meant to have it answered.
‘What did I say to you, Captain Norton?’ she repeated firmly.
I began to mumble something about the words of sleep-walkers
being always unintelligible, but she brought me back to the point.
‘You must have heard me; in fact, I can see by your face that you
did hear. What was it that I said?’
‘I was so sleepy, Margaret,’ I commenced, but I felt my voice
shaking audibly,—‘so sleepy, and altogether so confused, and my
memory not being of the best, that I—I—really I—’
She gazed at me for a minute earnestly, almost hungeringly—I
could feel it, though I did not see it—but I kept my eyes fixed over
the sea, and a dead silence ensued between us. A dead silence, until
it was broken by the living sound of tears; and I turned to see her
dear head bent to her saddle-bow, and her slight figure shaken with
her grief.
‘Margaret, dear Margaret!’ I exclaimed, forgetting everything but
herself, ‘it was nothing—indeed it was nothing; a few words spoken
at random, of which no one in his senses would think twice, or be so
presumptuous as to understand as the interpretation of your true
feelings towards him.’
 But in my anxiety and ardour I had blurted out far more than I
intended.
‘Be silent!’ she cried, as she lifted an indignant burning face to
mine—‘be silent, Captain Norton! if you do not wish to insult me, or
make me hate myself and you.’ And with that she dashed her hand
impetuously across her eyes, and gathering up her reins, turned her
horse’s head away from the sea-beach and began to canter towards
home. I followed her, of course; but we did not exchange another
word, and she would not even condescend to meet the imploring
glance which, as I took her from the saddle, I lifted towards her
face, mutely entreating for forgiveness.
She behaved much the same as usual during the remainder of the
evening; only that I saw she studiously avoided coming in contact
with myself. What a fool I was to say as much as I did! I, who
almost registered a vow this morning that nothing should tear the
secret from my lips. And now I have betrayed her to herself. I see
she shuns me; I know she fears me; I almost believe I have made
her hate me. Well, I have brought it on myself, and I must bear it as
best I may; it only proves how little we know when we think—as I
did this morning—that the world cannot hold a greater misfortune
for us than the one we then endure.
Oh, Lionne, Lionne! what is to be the end of this?
August 12th.—I was scarcely surprised when Janie came to-day to
tell me in a broken voice that her cousin had just informed her of
her intention to leave Mushin-Bunda as soon as possible, and that
she had already written to Mrs Grant to ask if she could receive her
at Madras until her uncle’s wishes with respect to her movements
should be made known. I was not surprised, because I felt
convinced that, after what had passed between us yesterday
afternoon, her proud spirit would forbid her remaining under the
same roof with me, if any alternative were open to her; at the same
time I felt deeply hurt to think that my imprudence should be the
means of driving her from the shelter of it. Janie, on the other hand,
innocent as to the cause, had no reason to feel hurt, except by the
want of confidence reposed in her; but she was wonderfully
astonished, and disposed to resent my not being so as an additional
grievance.
‘Why, you don’t seem in the least surprised to hear it, Robert!’ she
complained. ‘Has Margaret said anything about it to you before?’
‘The subject has never been broached between us; but Miss
Anstruther has a right, of course, to follow her own inclinations, and
we none to interfere with them.’
‘No; but what can be the reason?’
‘Did you not ask her, Janie?’
‘Of course; but she only says that she does not feel so well here
as she did at Madras.’
‘I think that is quite sufficient to account for her desiring a
change. Strength soon gives way in this country; and I don’t think
your cousin has been looking well or strong lately. What we know of
her sleep-walking propensity is a proof of that.’
‘Then I mustn’t persuade her to stop with us, Robert?’ continued
Janie, pleadingly.
‘By no means, dear. Let her follow the bent of her own wishes; it
will be best for all of us.’
‘But Uncle Henry will be so surprised; and I am afraid he will be
angry—and—and I had so hoped she was going to stay with me,
Robert; and I feel so ill—and—and—so nervous, and I can’t bear
that Margaret should go away.’ And here the poor girl was quite
overcome by the prospect of her own weakness and her
companion’s departure, and burst into a flood of childish tears.
I felt very sorry for Janie. She has so thoroughly enjoyed the
society of her cousin, and she is not in a condition to be vexed and
thwarted with impunity. And then again I thought of Lionne
travelling all the way back to Madras by herself, to accept a home
from strangers, with nothing but her present unhappiness and her
future uncertainty to bear her company; and I felt that neither of
these should be the one to suffer, and that if the circumstances
required a victim, it should be myself. I did not particularly wish to
leave my regiment, nor my wife, nor any one else; but if it is
impossible for us to continue on the same footing with one another,
I felt that I should be the one to go. So I did not hesitate; but telling
Janie to keep her tears until she should be sure they were required,
went in search of Margaret Anstruther.
She was neither in the drawing-room nor in the dining-room, but
in a little antechamber which it pleases my wife to call her boudoir,
but which is the dullest and most unfrequented apartment in the
house. There I found her, lying on the sofa, shading her eyes with
her hand, but making no attempt at work or reading.
‘Margaret, may I speak to you?’
I could not, because I had offended her, go back to the more
formal appellation of ‘Miss Anstruther;’ it seemed so much as though
we had quarrelled.
‘If it is of anything I should care to hear,’ she said languidly.
‘It is of something to which I much desire you should listen,’ I
replied. ‘Janie has just been telling me that you purpose leaving us.
Is that true?’
‘It is,’ she answered curtly, but not unkindly.
‘I will not ask you for what reason,’ I went on to say, ‘because
your wishes are your own, and shall be sacred; but if your decision
is not irrevocable, think twice before you inflict such a
disappointment on poor Janie. You know how weak and ill she is at
present.’
‘Captain Norton, I must go.’
‘Must you? If I leave the house myself—if I leave the cantonment,
and do not return?’
 ‘You are not in earnest?’ she said, raising her eyes to mine, too
weary to be called surprised.
‘I am. I have long intended going to Haldabad on a shooting
excursion, which may detain me for two or three months.
Inadvertently almost I have delayed it, your visit and Janie’s illness
coming in the way; but now I am ready to start at twelve hours’
notice, if need be—indeed, I am anxious to be gone.’
‘And what will Janie say to that, Captain Norton?’ she demanded in
a lowered voice.
‘At this moment I believe that my absence will affect Janie less
than your departure would do. She is very much attached to you,
and she feels the comfort of a woman’s presence. Added to which,
Margaret, I am in a great measure responsible to your uncle for your
proceedings, and I shall not feel easy if you leave my house for a
stranger’s without previously asking his consent. He will imagine I
have proved unfaithful to my trust. Do you wish others to think as
badly of me as I do of myself?’
As I uttered these words I dropped my voice almost to a whisper,
but she heard them plainly.
‘Oh, let me go! let me go!’ she exclaimed wildly. ‘It will be better,
far better, for all of us. I cannot, indeed I cannot, remain here; the
air of this place stifles me.’
‘I have made you despise me,’ I said despondently.
‘No; oh no!’ and her dark eyes were fixed upon me for a moment
with an expression which I would have kept in them for ever; ‘but—
you know, Captain Norton, that it is best—that, in fact, we must
part.’
‘I do know it,’ I replied; ‘and therefore I am going. By this time to-
morrow I hope to have made all necessary preparations, and to be
ready for a start. Meanwhile you will stay here—I know you will,
because I ask you—to comfort and look after Janie until you receive
your uncle’s consent to go to Madras. And when it arrives, and you
have left Mushin-Bunda, I will return to it.’
‘And we shall never, never meet again!’ she said, in a voice so
broken as to be almost inarticulate.
I dared not answer her; had I spoken, I must have poured out all
my heart.
‘You have consented?’ were my next words.
‘Yes, since you think it best; only I am sorry to be the means of
driving you from home.’
‘If you are—though you have no need to be—will you give me one
recompense, Margaret?’
She lifted her eyes inquiringly; speech seemed almost lost to her.
‘Say you forgive me for what I told you yesterday. I have sorely
reproached myself since.’
She stretched out her hand, and met mine in a grasp which,
though firm, was cold as that of death.
‘Then we part friends?’
It was again myself who spoke; she nodded her head in
acquiescence, and I felt my prudence evaporating, and rushed from
the apartment.
Written down, this interview seems nothing; but to those who feel
as we do, the misery of years may be compressed into an hour; and
that small room, for both of us, was worse than a torture-chamber.
I have scarcely seen her since, except at meals; but, as I
anticipated, my wife was so delighted to learn that she should retain
her cousin’s company, that she thought next to nothing of my
proposed shooting excursion, except to beg that I would take care of
myself, and to wonder how I could like going after those ‘horrid
bears’ and ‘awful tigers.’ Indeed, on the whole, I half suspect the
little woman is rather glad to get rid of me, and pleased at the idea
of having Margaret all to herself for a few weeks; for she has
occasionally displayed the faintest touch of jealousy when I have
broken up their tête-à-tête conferences. So I have sent them word
down to the Fort to lay my ‘dawk’ for me, and I shall start as soon as
to-morrow’s sun goes down.
I almost think we shall have a storm first, which would pleasantly
clear the air; for the sky has been indigo-colour all to-day, and there
is a strange heaviness over everything as I write.
I have been packing my portmanteau and cleaning my weapons,
until I have fairly tired myself out; but were I to stop to think, I
could never summon courage enough to go. The household is
asleep, and has been for hours; and I am sadly in want of rest; for I
can hardly keep my eyes open or guide my pen upon the paper—
and yet I feel as though I should never sleep again.
Bah! I must be mad or dreaming. I am only starting on an
ordinary shooting excursion, and I feel as though I were going to my
grave.
This is folly—monomania; I shall be thankful when the hour comes
for me to leave.

Madras, October 20th.—It is more than two months since I

transcribed a line in this written record of my inmost thoughts—more
than two months since that awful, horrible, and most unexpected
catastrophe occurred, which I cannot now recall without a shudder,
and which, for a time, seemed as if it must obliterate my reason or
my life. But I am spared (though I cannot yet say, thank God that it
is so); and were it not that my soul seems to die within me, and my
energy to languish for want of some one or thing to which I may
confide my sorrow, I should not have the courage even now to write
the story down. But I must speak, even though it be but to a silent
confidant, for my spirit fails for lack of sympathy; and therefore I
draw out my old diary, and having read (shall I be ashamed to say
with tears?) what I have written in these foregoing pages, proceed
to bring the tale to a conclusion.
Let me try to collect my scattered thoughts, so apt to wander
when I approach this miserable subject, and carry them back to the
eventful moment when I last left off—to the night of the 12th of
August.
I had sat up, packing my wardrobe and writing my diary, until I
had fairly tired myself out, and then, having put away my book and
writing materials into the table-drawer, I locked it, and lighting a
cigar, sat down to think; of what, and in what strain, I and these
pages, to my misery, best know.
I had no intention of permitting myself to fall asleep; but it is my
custom to smoke just before retiring to bed, and I should have
anticipated a broken rest without the indulgence. At the same time
my fatigue was greater than I thought, and after a little while
drowsiness came over me, and before I knew that sleep was
coming, I was in the land of dreams.
And such a land! Thank heaven, for those who are not destined in
this world to know substantial happiness, that dreams remain to
them.
I dreamt that I was with Margaret again on the sea-shore; not
riding, but wandering hand-in-hand; not speaking coldly or with
averted faces, but eyes to eyes, and heart to heart. I dreamt that I
was watching the damask blush which mantled on her cheek, and
listening to the low, mellow sound of her rich voice, and that
mingled with my own reply came the hoarse murmur of the ocean
as it swelled and surged upon the shore.
I dreamt that we were one; one not in the earthly acceptation of
the word, but in that fuller sense by which spirits are united to each
other, never more to part; and that as we strolled upon the beach
together we knew that neither death nor injury could sever us again.
And amidst it all I was listening to the hoarse murmur of the waves,
which rolled up to our very feet, and broke away, but to return with
an energy louder and more imperative than before. I dreamt that as
I stood thus, enfolding my new-found treasure in my arms, I started
to find that the sky was overcast, and that the tide had surrounded
us, and was behind as well as before, and threatening to overwhelm
my darling. I dreamt that in my fear and solicitude I drew her
backwards, trembling for her safety, and that as I whispered words
of love and reassurance, I woke—to dream no more.
I woke, at the bidding of a loud and terrified scream from the lips
of my native servants, and springing to my feet, became first aware
of a sensation of intense chillness, and next, as my remaining senses
gradually returned to me, of a hoarse murmur somewhere near me,
which recalled the memory of my dream.
The night was intensely dark; there seemed to be neither moon
nor stars, and for one moment I stood, uncertain which way to
move, and waiting to hear if the cry had only been my fancy, or
would be repeated. Too soon it came again, this time louder, more
terrified, more piercing than before; and its burden words of fearful
import, too fearful to be at first believed. ‘Master! master!’ it said in
Hindustani; ‘master, the sea is on us!’ And before I could scarcely
realise the meaning of the words, the natives who slept in the
verandah had rushed into my presence, and were immediately
followed by a huge wave of water, which, with the hollow roar to
which I had listened in my dreams, burst into the unprotected
sitting-rooms, and washed over my feet.
‘Master!’ cried the natives, as they clambered upon tables and
chairs, ‘the sea has burst its bounds; the sea is coming on us; the
whole cantonment will be under water!’
‘Close the doors and windows!’ I exclaimed loudly; but no one
stirred, and I attempted to set them the example of doing as I said,
but it was too late. I perceived a dark volume of water stealing
stealthily upon us from all sides, and even as I advanced towards
the verandah, a huge wave dashed against me, washing me to the
middle, knocking me backwards on the drawing-room table, and
carrying away a chair as it retreated. At the same moment, a scream
from the women’s apartments told me that the sea had reached that
quarter; and with no thought but for the safety of those dear to me,
I dashed without ceremony into Miss Anstruther’s room. I found her
pale and trembling, but just awakened, sitting on the side of her bed
with her bare feet in a river of sea water.
‘What is the matter?’ she gasped as I entered.
‘The sea has overflowed the cantonment,’ I replied hastily, as I
quickly lifted her in my arms; ‘but trust to me, Lionne, and I will take
you to a place of safety.’
She shuddered but made no resistance, until I had carried her to
the dining-room, now half full of water, and was preparing to wade
with her through the verandah, and place her on the roof of the
house.
‘But where is Janie?’ she exclaimed, as she looked with horror on
the advancing mass of water; ‘oh, where is Janie?’
At her question I nearly dropped my burden; for the moment I
had entirely forgotten my poor wife, whose screams were patent
from the adjoining room.
‘Go to her,’ said Lionne, as she struggled from my embrace, and
slid down into the cold waves, against the violence of which she
could hardly support herself. ‘Go at once! What were you thinking
of? She will drown, if you do not take care.’
‘I am doing as much as I can,’ I answered hurriedly. ‘Let me place
you in safety first, and then I will return for her. I cannot carry two
at once.’
‘And you would leave her to the last?’ she said indignantly; ‘she, in
whom two lives are wrapt in one! Oh, Robert! I did not think it of
you.’
‘But, my beloved—’ I commenced, in an agony at her delay.
‘Go!’ she said authoritatively; and I left her to her fate, and went.
 I found my poor little wife wet through and screaming for help;
and lifting her in my arms, I carried her, buffeting with the water as I
went, through the dining and drawing-rooms to the outer verandah.
‘Hold fast—take the greatest care of yourself,’ I exclaimed in an
agony of fear, as I battled past the white-clad figure which was
clinging to the door-posts. ‘I will return, Lionne, as soon as ever I
can.’
‘I am not afraid; God will take care of me,’ was the calm reply; and
I strode forwards into deeper and deeper water with each step.
When I reached the verandah the struggle was severe, for there the
waves were highest and strongest; but although much impeded by
Janie’s terrified clasp, I managed to wade with her to the foot of the
ladder, and as soon as I had accomplished two or three steps of
that, the rest was easy. I toiled with my helpless burden up to the
roof, despair lending strength to my limbs; and as soon as I had
reached it, I found myself in a goodly company of natives, who, with
a few unfortunate exceptions, had managed to gain the top of the
house as soon as the flood had surprised them. Having delivered
Janie to the care of the ayah, I rushed down again to the assistance
of Lionne, my heart throbbing as though it would burst with the fear
that my efforts might be made too late. The water was now higher
than ever in the verandah, and I began to be afraid that I should
have to swim back again. I dashed on as vigorously and quickly as I
could towards the door, to the lintels of which I had left her clinging.
She was not there!
The dark water was swaying and surging through the deserted
rooms; the furniture was floating about in the most dire confusion;
trunks, portmanteaus, and other trivial articles knocked up against
me at every turn before they drifted out to sea; but my beloved I
saw nowhere. In an agony I called upon her name, making the walls
resound with my voice, caring nothing who heard or listened to me.
‘Lionne, Lionne! my dearest, my beloved! where are you? Speak to
me.’
 But no voice answered mine, no moan or groan reached my ears;
and I waded into the chamber which had been my wife’s.
Ah, what was that?—that helpless mass of white drapery clinging
about delicately-moulded limbs, which swayed about in one corner,
prevented by the wall—thank gracious heaven!—from floating out to
sea with chairs and tables, but being knocked against that cruel wall
with every motion of the waves, until no apparent life was left in it.
I took her senseless body in my arms, thankful even in that
condition to have it there; and lifting the dear white face above the
reach of the impetuous tide, laid my cheek against her own,
although I believed that human warmth would never again visit it. It
was no time for words or even thought. I pressed her to me as
fondly as though the waves had been our bridal bed; and resenting
the despair which urged me to let the cruel water carry us both
away together then and there, battled with it once more, and bore
my treasure to the place of safety. But it was with feelings such as
no words of mine can describe, that I laid her beauteous form, cold,
dripping, on the bare bricks with which the roof is paved. I had
already stripped myself of coat and waistcoat for Janie; and there
was nothing on which to lay the senseless body of my darling but
the wet cloths which the natives could contribute, and an old piece
of carpet which was kept up there.
Meanwhile the hoarse flood continued to roll and murmur below,
becoming deeper and deeper with each surge of the mass of waters;
and cries of distress were heard from the surrounding houses; and
the articles of furniture which floated past us began to be mingled
with a vision of dead faces turned sightlessly towards the moon, now
beginning to struggle out from behind the canopy of dark clouds
which had hitherto concealed her. And still I bent above the face
which had become so unutterably dear to me, and prayed heaven to
let her know me once more, if but for a moment’s time.
Meanwhile poor Janie, exhausted by the fright she had
undergone, and the grief she felt at the condition of her cousin, had
fallen into a state which was half sleep and half syncope, and lay
reclining with her head upon her ayah’s lap.
And brother officers shouted to me from the roofs of neighbouring
houses, asking if we were all safe—all well; and I answered that I
hoped, I trusted so; and prayed heaven again to let her know me
once more before she died.
And God granted me my prayer. Towards morning she awoke to
consciousness. Just as the grey dawn commenced to break, and that
dreadful flood, which continued for forty-eight hours to pervade the
devoted cantonment, began to show symptoms of being at its
height, she opened her dark eyes and gazed at me.
‘Where am I?’ she said, faintly.
‘Here, dearest,’ I replied, all reserve vanished in the face of death,
—‘here in my arms; in the arms of him who loves you better than his
life.’
‘It is not hard to die so,’ she whispered; but as she spoke an
expression of agony passed over her countenance.
‘Are you in great pain, Lionne?’
‘Yes,’ she replied with effort.
‘Where, dearest? tell me.’
‘Everywhere—all over. I was knocked down so often.’
‘Ah, my beloved! and I not there to help you.’
‘You were doing your duty, Robert; and it will soon be over now—
all will be over soon—all pain—all—’
‘Not mine,’ I murmured in an agony. ‘Lionne, tell me—but once
before we part—say that you love me!’
‘My legacy,’ she whispered, with a faint smile. ‘Yes, Robert; with all
my heart—as my life, better than my life.’
‘O God, spare her!’ I cried aloud.
 ‘O God, take me!’ she said herself; ‘take me from misery and
disappointment to where there are no tears.’
‘And how am I to live without you?’ I exclaimed.
Her dark eyes met mine reproachfully.
‘Janie—your child,’ she gasped. ‘I—I could have been—nothing.’
‘You are all the world to me!’ I exclaimed, passionately.
She lay quiet for a few moments, and then she opened her eyes
wide, and fixed them upon mine.
‘Promise,’ she gasped—‘Janie—to love—to love—to comfort—to—’
She fell back in my arms, and for a few minutes I watched with
inexpressible pain the convulsive working of her beautiful features.
‘Better—so much better—that I should go,’ she whispered, after a
long pause; and as she said the words she went.
It was the corpse of Margaret Anstruther, and of all my earthly
happiness, that I laid down upon the sodden rags and piece of
carpet.

I have no heart to write down the details of what followed. For

two days that cruel flood pervaded Mushin-Bunda before it showed
symptoms of subsiding; and before that time arrived, several
hundred lives (chiefly natives) had been sacrificed. We lost nearly all
our furniture, though several pieces were left stranded in the
compound when the waters retired; amongst others, the writing-
table which held my diary.
But what avails it to speak of personal loss at such a time as this?
My poor wife, from the combined effects of cold, fatigue, and terror,
had a very serious illness, from which at one time I almost feared
she might not recover; and on her return to health I brought her to
Madras, from which place I write. She is now herself again; and I am
in good health and tolerable spirits; and—and Margaret sleeps alone
in a shady corner of the English burying-ground at Mushin-Bunda.
No, not alone! God is my witness that my heart sleeps with her!
Note added ten years later.
I have been looking over my old diaries to-day, and burning most
of them; but something within me seems to forbid that I should
destroy these few pages which record the history of my brief
acquaintanceship with Margaret Anstruther. They are the only
remembrance I have left of her.
Ten years have waxed and waned since the dark night she died;
what have they left me? A wife whom I love and in whom I trust;
who, I may safely say, I would exchange for no woman living; who
has brought me children, loving and docile as herself, and very dear
to me; a happy peaceful home (no longer in the East); a moderate
competence; and a name which I trust no man holds lightly.
And to these many blessings I add contentment, and wonder what
more good on this earth a mortal could expect.
On this earth none; but whilst I ponder, I thank God that this
earth is not the end of all things.
There was a time when I used to think and say that all my
happiness lay buried in the grave of Lionne; but I have lived to learn
and believe that at the Last Day it shall rise again, with her to
bloom, ten thousand times renewed, in heaven!
THE END.
 OLD CONTRAIRY.
It was at the close of a sultry day in June, that the passenger vessel,
‘Star of the North,’ coasted the island of Martinique on her way to
Barbadoes. The sea was calm as a summer lake, and an ominous
stillness reigned in the surrounding atmosphere that made the words
of a song, trolled out by a free, manly voice from the forecastle,
distinctly heard in every part of the vessel,—

‘Wherever you be, by land or sea,

Why, set your heart at rest;
For you may be sure, come kill or cure
Whatever is, is best!’

‘Don’t believe it,’ grumbled an old seaman, who was seated on a

coil of rope mending a sail. ‘I wish I’d had the ordering of my own
life, any way. I’d have soon seen if it was best for me to be situated
as I am at this here present!’
He was a fine old man, with rugged but well-cut features and
muscular limbs. He had a clear blue eye, and silvery locks that
showed he had been a handsome fellow in his day; but something or
other had put him out of love with life, and his habitual mood was
one of discontent. A passenger, who was pacing the quarter-deck,
with a thoughtful countenance, turned at the old sailor’s words and
confronted the speaker.
‘Don’t you believe in a Providence that overrules all our actions,
Williams?’ he demanded abruptly.
 ‘Oh yes, Mr Egerton, I believe in Providence fast enough; but
when I see want and misery and injustice on every side of me, I
cannot help thinking as our actions might be ruled a little straighter
for us.’
‘We are all apt to think the same, but that is because we cannot
see the end of the beginning. Perhaps, too, you have never prayed
that Providence might extend its fostering care over you?’
‘You’re mistaken, sir. No man ever prayed more than I used to do.
I was a reg’lar conwarted Christian at one time; and a morial
example, but ’twarn’t no manner of use. No one never heard nor
answered my prayers, and so I left off a saying ’em, and I don’t see
as my troubles are a bit the wuss for it, neither. Everybody seems to
get much of a muchness in this world, let ’em wear out their marrer
bones or not.’
He re-applied himself to the patching of his sail, and the young
man who had addressed him looked over the dark blue waters and
sighed. He, too, had prayed for some weeks past that a certain
blessing on which he had set his heart might be granted him, and
his prayers had been returned upon his hands, as it were,
unanswered. He was a very sad and disappointed man that evening,
but his faith in Heaven was not one whit shaken by the trouble that
had overtaken him. Even the clear, ringing laughter of Miss Herbert,
as she sat on the poop and responded to the badinage and
compliments of the group of gentlemen by which she was
surrounded, although it made Egerton’s brave heart quiver with pain,
had not the power to cause it to despair.
‘Williams,’ he said, after a pause, ‘you are altogether wrong.
Prayer may not be answered at once, nor in the manner we
anticipate, but it is always heard, and what that song says is true,
—“Whatever is, is best.” It must be.’
But Williams still looked dubious.
‘It’s all very well for them, sir, as is rich and young, and got all
their life before ’em, to think so. I dare say everything do seem best
to them; but let ’em be sick and sorry and old, and obliged to work
hard for their living, and I warrant they’d sing to a different sort of
tune.’
‘Are you sick, Williams?’
‘Pretty middlin’, sir. I’ve done a deal of hard work in my time, and I
has the rhoomatics that bad in my hands sometimes as makes every
stitch I put a trouble to me.’
‘Are you sorry?’
‘Well, I’ve had my share of that lot, Mr Egerton; but as I’ve told
you already, ’twas nothin’ to nobody what I suffered nor what I felt,
and so I’ve larned to hold my tongue upon the matter.’
Richard Egerton looked at the old sailor’s rugged face, down which
time or trouble had made many a furrow, and his heart went out to
this fellow-creature, who had sorrowed perhaps as much as he was
doing himself, and had no outward alleviation for the world’s
injustice.
‘Did you ever watch two people play a game of chess, Williams?’
he asked, presently.
‘Do you mean them little figures as they move about on a black-
and-white board, same as we use for draughts, sir?’
‘I do.’
‘Oh yes! I’ve watched the passengers playing that game many a
time.’
‘Didn’t it puzzle you at first to understand why the players should
sometimes allow their men to be taken from them, or even place
them in positions of danger where they could not possibly escape
being captured?’
‘Yes, sir!’ cried old Williams, brightening up with intelligence. ‘I
remember there was one gentleman that crossed with us last year to
Trinidad, and he used to boast that there was no one on board could
beat him at that game. And no more there was, and his play was
always to let the other sweep near half his men off the board afore
he’d begin in arnest at all. Lord! I’ve stood and watched ’em when I
was off duty, many and many a time, and been as near as possible
a-crying out to him to take care; but he had got the game, sir, at his
fingers’ end, and always came off victor, whoever sat down with
him.’
‘Just so. That gentleman’s plan must have seemed inexplicable to
anyone who was ignorant of the rules of chess, but those who knew
them and watched them to the end, would have understood that he
allowed his knights and pawns to be taken only, that he might
preserve his queen and his castle, and win the game for them all. Do
you follow me?’
‘I think I can, sir, though I don’t know where the dickens you’re a
leading me to.’
‘Only to this point—that you must try and think in the same way of
the dealings of Providence with men. We cannot tell why one of us is
rich and the other poor; why one has blessings in this life and the
other nothing but troubles. But God does. We only see the effect; He
knows the cause. He is the player of the game, Williams, and does
not allow one piece to be taken captive by the enemy, except with a
view to final victory.’
‘Well, sir, that’s all very clever argumentation, but it don’t convince
me. It’s sorry work listenin’ to reason for comfort. He’s swept away
all my pieces, one arter another—there’s no question about that—
and left me alone in the world, and I can’t see the mercy of it nor
the justice either,’ replied the old man in a discontented tone.
‘But it is not only to the sick and the old and the poor that He
deals out His judgments,’ continued Egerton sadly. ‘We all have our
troubles, in whatever position we may be placed.’
At this moment the man up on the forecastle shouted again at the
top of his voice, ‘Whatever is, is best.’
‘I wish that Ben’s tongue was a little shorter,’ exclaimed Williams
hastily. ‘He’s always a bawlin’ out them cheerful songs, as makes a
feller feel twice as downhearted as he did afore.’
‘’Twould be all the same to you, “Old Contrairy,” whatever he
sung,’ remarked another sailor in passing; ‘for the song ain’t written
yet as would give you any satisfaction to listen to.’
‘Well, I likes to hear sense, whatever it be,’ shouted “Old
Contrairy” after him. ‘Look at that bank of clouds, rolling up from
leeward. We shall have a squall before long, as sure as I sits here.
However, I suppose that fool Ben would go on shoutin’ “Whatever is,
is best,” if the “Star of the North” was split into fifty pieces, and he
was just goin’ under water with his mouth choke full of weed.’
‘Heaven forbid!’ exclaimed Egerton, as he turned away to seek his
cabin. His conversation with the old seaman had had the effect of
increasing his depression, and he felt as if he could not trust himself
to argue with him any longer. He would have much preferred on this
sultry evening to take up his usual quarters on the poop, where the
rest of the passengers were assembled; but he had not the courage
to go there. So the poor young fellow left the deck, and, entering his
cabin threw himself down upon the sofa, which served him for a
bedstead, and abandoned himself to the luxury of grief. He was
altogether too young and too good-looking to feel so utterly bereft
of hope. His bright brown curls covered a brow which was full of
intellect, and bore upon its broad expanse the best sign of an
honourable man—the impress of frankness and truth. His deep blue
eyes, now so dull and troubled with disappointment, were generally
bright and mirthful, and his athletic limbs, although but the growth
of four-and-twenty years, gave promise of an unusual acquisition of
manly strength and power.
And Richard Egerton had other heritages besides those of youth
and beauty. He was the possessor, as the old seaman had intimated,
of wealth and influence. He had been adopted in his infancy by a
rich relation, who had lately died, leaving him the whole of his
fortune and his large estates in Barbadoes, on the condition that he
assumed the name of Egerton, instead of that which had been his by
birth. But what did all these advantages avail the poor lad to-day?—
this day which had dawned so full of hope, and was now about to
set upon the heaviest heart he had ever carried in his bosom. And
pretty Amy Herbert, whose laughter still reached his ear at times,
even where he lay, was the cause of all this trouble. They were not
entirely new acquaintances. He had met her in England some
months before, and had taken his passage to Barbadoes by the “Star
of the North” only because he heard that she was going to travel in
it to join her father, who was a civilian of some repute in Trinidad.
He had admired her from the first moment of their acquaintance,
and the weeks they had spent on board had ripened his admiration
into love, and made him hope, as he had had every reason to do,
that she was not indifferent to himself. He believed that his position
as owner of considerable property in the West Indies would have
ensured a favourable reception at the hands of her father, and had
approached the subject of marriage with her, if not with the certainty
of being met halfway, at least with a modest hope that she could not
think him presumptuous. And Amy Herbert had refused his offer—
point-blank and without hesitation—unequivocally and decidedly
refused it. It had fallen upon him as an unmitigated blow. How
lovely she had looked that morning when he found her sitting in her
basket-chair in a corner of the poop, shading her sweet, soft eyes
from the glaring light with a rose-lined parasol. How confidently he
had believed that he should see the long lashes lowered over those
beautiful eyes, and the maiden flush of combined shyness and
pleasure mount to that delicate cheek, as he poured forth his tale of
love to her.
Others had watched the young couple sitting so close together on
the poop that morning, and guessed what was going on. Others had
seen Richard Egerton bending lower and lower over his pretty
fellow-passenger, and gazing into her eyes as though he would read
her very soul, as he whispered his hopes to her. The poor young
fellow had been very modest over it, but he had made so sure that
Amy Herbert’s looks and actions could not have deceived him, that
he had almost thanked her beforehand for the answer he expected
to receive. And she had listened to his proposal with well-feigned
surprise, and rejected it with ill-advised haste. She had thought in
her silly, girlish inexperience that it was more correct and womanly
to appear horrified at the first idea of marriage, and she had been
almost as despairing as himself as she saw Richard Egerton take her
at her word and turn away without a second appeal, to hide his
wounded pride below. She was deeply repenting her abrupt
dismissal of him as she flirted on the poop with Captain Barrington,
who was returning from leave to join his regiment in Barbadoes. But
how was poor Egerton to know that, as he cast himself dejectedly
upon his narrow berth and lay, face downwards, with his eyes
pressed upon the pillow, lest the hot tears that scorched them
should overflow and betray his weakness? The sound of her voice
tortured him. He believed that she must be in earnest in showing a
preference for Captain Barrington, and he was not yet strong
enough to watch her fair face smiling on another man. So he
delivered himself over to melancholy, and tried hard to believe that
he would not have things other than they were.
‘Whatever is, is best,’ he kept on repeating inwardly. ‘It will not do
for me to preach a lesson to another man that I am unable to apply
to myself. Besides, it is true. I know it to be so. My whole existence
has proved it hitherto.’
Yet the smiling, sunlit pastures and cane fields, to which he was
taking his way, and which had seemed so beautiful in prospect when
he had hoped to secure fair Amy Herbert to reign over them as
mistress, appeared to afford him but dull anticipation now.
‘How shall I ever get through the work?’ he thought, ‘and my
heavy heart and sluggish spirit will lay me open to the worst
influences of the country. But I will not despair. My wants and my
weakness are not unknown, and a way will be found for me even
out of this “Slough of Despond.”’
He was suddenly roused from his love-sick reverie by the sound of
a low moaning, which seemed to pervade the surrounding
atmosphere. Starting up on his couch, Egerton now perceived
through the porthole that the sky had become dark, and the noise of
the captain of the vessel shouting his orders through a speaking-
trumpet, and the sailors rushing about to execute them, made him
aware that something was wrong. He was not the man to keep out
of the way of danger. Brave as a lion and intrepid as an eagle,
Richard Egerton, from a boy, had ever been the foremost in any
emergency or danger. Now, as the warning sounds reached his ear,
he rushed at once on deck. He remembered ‘Old Contrairy’s’
prophecy of a squall, and his first thoughts were for the comfort and
safety of Miss Herbert. But as he issued from the passengers’ saloon
a fearful sight awaited him. One of those sudden hurricanes, for
which the West Indies are famous, and which will sometimes swamp
the stoutest vessel in the course of a few seconds, had arisen, and
the whole ship’s company was in confusion. As Egerton sprang upon
deck he could distinctly see what appeared to be a black wall of
water advancing steadily to meet the unfortunate ‘Star of the North.’
With the exception of the noise consequent on attempting to furl the
sails in time to receive the shock of the approaching storm, there
was but little tumult upon deck, for everyone seemed paralysed with
terror.
At the first alarm, Miss Herbert, with the remainder of the
passengers from the poop, had attempted to go below, but, having
reached the quarter-deck, was crouching at the foot of the
companion-ladder, too terrified by the violence of the tornado to
proceed further. As for Egerton, he had to hold on fast to the
bulwarks to prevent himself being washed overboard. His head was
bare, and as he stood there, with the wind blowing his curls about in
the wildest disorder, and his handsome face knit with anxiety and
pain, Amy Herbert looked up and saw him, and registered a vow, in
the midst of her alarm, that if they ever came safely out of that
fearful storm she would humble her pride before him and confess
that she had been in the wrong. The moaning of the tempest
increased to a stunning roar, and then the huge wall of water broke
upon the ‘Star of the North’ with a violence to which no thunder can
bear comparison.
 All hands were aghast, and the men were dashed about the deck
hither and thither as the wind caught the vessel on her broadside.
The awful noise of the hurricane rendered all communication by
speech impossible, but the captain, by setting the example,
stimulated his men to cut away the masts in order to right the ship,
which had been thrown almost on her beam-ends.
In a moment Egerton perceived the danger to which Amy Herbert
would be exposed by the fall of the crashing timber. She was
crouching in the most exposed part of the quarter-deck, her lovely
eyes raised upwards, full of the wildest fear.
‘There! there! Go there!’ he exclaimed frantically, though his voice
had no power to reach her, as he pointed to a more sheltered
position under the companion-ladder. ‘Get under there, for Heaven’s
sake!’
She saw the warning gesture of his hand, the agony depicted in
his face, and understood the meaning of them, just as the huge
mast bowed itself towards the sea. Egerton continued his efforts to
make her see the necessity of moving, and she was just about to
take advantage of the hint, when Captain Barrington crawled on all
fours into the place himself. The little man was not too brave by
nature, and fear had driven all thoughts of chivalry out of his head.
For the moment the girl did not see who had forestalled her
intention; she only perceived that she had lost her chance of safety,
and waited the event in trembling anxiety. Down came the topmast
with a crashing shock that threatened to sink the vessel. Yet Amy
Herbert was sheltered from possible injury, for, with a mighty effort,
Richard Egerton had quitted his stronghold and flung his body upon
the deck before her. For one moment he was conscious—happily
conscious—that she was safe, and he had saved her; the next, he
had fainted from a blow on the head and the pain of a large splinter
of wood that had been broken from the falling mast and driven with
violence into his arm. He did not hear the scream with which Amy
Herbert viewed the accident, nor see the agonised face which bent
above his prostrate form. He heard, and saw, and knew nothing,