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I made what southing I could; but, all that time, we were beset by it. Mrs. Atherfield after standing by me on deck once, looking for some time in an awed manner at the great bergs that surrounded us, said in a whisper, "O! Captain Ravender, it looks as if the whole solid earth had changed into ice, and broken up!"
"We'll all stand by one another ashore, yet, please God, my lads!" says I. "Hold on bravely, and be tender with the women." The women were an example to us. They trembled very much, but they were quiet and perfectly collected. "Kiss me, Captain Ravender," says Mrs. Atherfield, "and God in heaven bless you, you good man!" "My dear," says I, "those words are better for me than a life-boat."
Now, it was a part of Bligh's experience that when the people in his boat were most cast down, nothing did them so much good as hearing a story told by one of their number. When I mentioned that, I saw that it struck the general attention as much as it did my own, for I had not thought of it until I came to it in my summary. This was on the day after Mrs. Atherfield first sang to us.
Flora of the Wealden. Upper Neocomian Greensand of Folkestone, Sandgate, and Hythe, Atherfield clay, upper part of Speeton clay: Part of Wealden beds of Kent, Surrey, Sussex, Hants, and Dorset. Middle Neocomian Punfield Marine bed, Tealby beds, middle part of Speeton clay: Part of Wealden beds of Kent, Surrey, Sussex, Hants, and Dorset.
This clay is only of slight thickness in Kent and Surrey, but acquires great dimensions at Atherfield, in the Isle of Wight. The difference, indeed, in mineral character and thickness of the Upper Neocomian formation near Folkestone, and the corresponding beds in the south of the Isle of Wight, about 100 miles distant, is truly remarkable.
The total thickness of these Folkestone and Hythe beds is less than 300 feet, and they are seen to rest immediately on a grey clay, to which we shall presently allude as the Atherfield clay. This genus is closely allied to Chama, and the cast of the interior has been compared to the horns of a goat. We mentioned before that the Folkstone and Hythe series rest on a grey clay.
It had happened on the second day, towards night, that Mrs. Atherfield, in getting Little Lucy to sleep, sang her a song. She had a soft, melodious voice, and, when she had finished it, our people up and begged for another. She sang them another, and after it had fallen dark ended with the Evening Hymn.
Of course I took charge of the two young women, and I called them "my dear," and they never minded, knowing that whatever I said was said in a fatherly and protecting spirit. I gave them their places on each side of me at dinner, Mrs. Atherfield on my right and Miss Coleshaw on my left; and I directed the unmarried lady to serve out the breakfast, and the married lady to serve out the tea.
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