"Oh! many a dream was in the ship
An hour before her death;
And sight of home, with sighs disturbed
The sleeper's long-drawn breath."
WILSON.
Raoul soon decided on his course. While he was consoling Clinch, orders
had been sent to Pintard to look for the other gig; but a few minutes'
search under the cliffs satisfied those on deck that she was not to be
found; and the fact was so reported below. Nor could all Ithuel's
ingenuity extract from the captured boat's crew any available
information on the subject. There was an _esprit de corps_ among the
Proserpines, as between their own ship and le Feu-Follet, which would
have withstood, on an occasion like this, both threats and bribes; and
he of the Granite State was compelled to give the matter up as hopeless;
though, in so doing, he did not fail to ascribe the refusal to betray
their shipmates, on the part of these men, to English obstinacy, rather
than to any creditable feeling. The disposition to impute the worst to
those he hated, however, was not peculiar to Ithuel or his country; it
being pretty certain he would have fared no better on board the English
frigate, under circumstances at all analogous.
Satisfied, at length, that the other boat had escaped him, and feeling
the necessity of getting out of the Bay while it was still dark, Raoul
reluctantly gave the order to bear up, and put the lugger dead before
the wind, wing-and-wing. By the time this was done, the light craft had
turned so far to windward as to be under the noble rocks that separate
the piano of Sorrento from the shores of Vico; a bold promontory that
buttresses the sea, with a wall of near or quite a thousand feet in
perpendicular height. Here she felt the full force of the land-wind; and
when her helm was put up, and her sheets eased off, a bird turning on
the wing would not have come round more gracefully, and scarcely with
greater velocity. The course now lay from point to point, in order to
avoid being becalmed within the indentations of the coast. This carried
the lugger athwart the cove of Sorrento, rather than into it, and, of
course, left Yelverton, who had landed at the smaller marina, quite out
of the line of her course.
So swift was the progress of the little craft that, within fifteen
minutes after bearing up, Raoul and Ithuel, who again occupied their
stations on the forecastle, saw the headland where they had so lately
been concealed, and ordered the helm a-port in order to sheer out and
give it a berth. Then rock was passed after rock, cove after cove, and
village after village, until the entrance between Capri and Campanella
was again reached. In sweeping down the shore in this manner, the
intention was to pick up any boat that might happen to be in the
lugger's track; for, while Raoul was disposed to let his prisoner go, he
had a strong desire to seize any other officers of the frigate that
might fall in his way. The search was ineffectual, however; and when the
lugger came out into the open sea, all expectation of further success,
of this nature, was reluctantly abandoned.
As le Feu-Follet was now in dangerous proximity to three cruisers of the
enemy, the moment was one that called for decision. Fortunately, the
positions of the English vessels were known to Raoul, a circumstance
that lessened the danger, certainly; but it would not do to continue
long within a league of their anchorage, with the risk of the land
breezes failing. As yet the darkness, and the shadows of the land,
concealed the privateer, and her commander determined, if not literally
to make hay while the sun shone, at least to profit by its absence. With
this view, then, he ordered the lugger hove-to, the boat of Clinch
hauled to the lee gangway, and the prisoners to be all brought on deck;
the common men in the waist, and the master's mate aft.
"Here I must lose the pleasure of your company, Monsieur Clinch," said
Raoul, with a courtesy that may almost be termed national. "We are quite
as near _votre belle_ Proserpine as is safe, and _I_ long for _notre
belle France_, The wind is fair to take us off the coast, and two hours
will carry us out of sight, even were it noonday. You will have the
complaisance to make my duty to Monsieur Cuffe--_oui, pardie!_ and to
_ces braves Italiens_, who are so much ze amis of Sir Smees!
_Touchez-la_."
Raoul laughed, for his heart was light, and sundry droll conceits
danced through his brain. As Clinch, the whole was Greek to him, with
the exception that he understood it was the intention of the French to
take their vessel off the coast, a circumstance that he was not sorry to
learn, though he would have given so much, a few hours earlier, to have
known where to find her. Raoul's generosity had worked a revolution in
his feelings, however, and nothing was further from his wishes, now,
than to be employed against the celebrated privateersman. Still, he had
a duty to perform to the service of which he was a member, another to
Jane, and a last to himself.
"Captain Yvard," said the master's-mate, taking the other's offered
hand, "I shall never forget this kindness on your part; it comes at a
most fortunate moment for me. My happiness in this world, and perhaps in
the world to come"--an ejaculation of "bah!" involuntarily escaped the
listener--"depended on my being at liberty. I hold it to be fair,
however, to tell you the whole truth. I must do all I can to capture or
destroy this very lugger, as well as any other of the king's enemies, as
soon as I am my own master again."
"_Bon!_--I like your frankness, Monsieur Clinch, as much as I like your
humanity. I always look for a brave enemy when _un Anglais_ comes
against me; if you are ever in the number, I shall expect
nothing worse."
"It will be my duty, Captain Yvard, to report to Captain Cuffe where I
found the Folly, where I left her, and where I think she is steering.
Even your armament, crew, and all such little particulars, I shall be
questioned on; I must answer honestly."
"_Mon cher_, you are 'honest fellow,' as you Anglais say. I wish it was
noonday, that you might better see our deck--le Feu-Follet is not ugly,
that she should wish to wear a veil. Tell everything, Clinch, _mon
brave_; if Monsieur Cuffe wish to send another party against our lugger,
come in the first boat _en personne_. We shall always be happy to see
Monsieur Clinch. As for where we steer, you see out head is toward _la
belle France_; and there is plenty of room for a long chase. _Adieu, mon
ami_--_au revoir_."
Clinch now shook hands heartily with all the officers; again expressed
his sense of the liberality with which he was treated, and this, too,
with emotion; then he followed his people into the boat, and pulled away
from the lugger's side, holding his course toward the light which was
still burning on board the Proserpine. At the same time le Feu-Follet
filled, and soon disappeared from his eyes in the darkness, running off
wing-and-wing, and steering west, as if really making the best of her
way toward the Straits of Bonifacio, on her road to France.
But, in fact, Raoul had no such intention. His cruise was not up, and
his present position, surrounded as he was with enemies, was full of
attraction to one of his temperament. Only the day before he had
appeared in the disguise of a lazzarone, he had captured, manned, and
sent to Marseilles a valuable store-ship; and he knew that another was
hourly expected in the bay. This was an excuse to his people for
remaining where they were, But the excitement of constantly running the
gauntlet, the pleasure of demonstrating the superior sailing of his
lugger, the opportunities for distinction, and every other professional
motive, were trifling, as compared with the tie which bound him to, the
feeling that unceasingly attracted him toward Ghita. With his love,
also, there began to mingle a sensation approaching to despair. While
Ghita was so gentle, and even tender, with him, he had ever found her
consistent and singularly firm in her principles. In their recent
dialogues, some that we hare forborne to relate on account of their
peculiar character, Ghita had expressed her reluctance to trust her fate
with one whose God was not her God, with a distinctness and force that
left no doubt of the seriousness of her views or of her ability to
sustain them in acts. What rendered her resolution more impressive was
the ingenuous manner with which she never hesitated to admit Raoul's
power over her affections, leaving no pretext for the commonplace
supposition that the girl was acting. The conversation of that night
weighed heavily on the heart of the lover, and he could not summon
sufficient resolution to part--perhaps for months--with such an apparent
breach between him and his hopes.
As soon as it was known, therefore, that the lugger was far enough at
sea to be out of sight from the boat of Clinch, she came by the wind on
the larboard tack again, heading up toward the celebrated ruins of
Paestum, on the eastern shore of the Bay of Salerno. To one accustomed
to the sea, there would not have seemed sufficient wind to urge even
that light craft along at the rate with which she glided through the
water. But the land breeze was charged with the damps of midnight; the
canvas was thickened from the same cause; and the propelling power had
nearly double its apparent force. In an hour after hauling up, le
Feu-Follet tacked, quite eight miles distant from the spot where she
altered her direction, and far enough to windward to lay her course in
directly for the cliffs beneath the village of St. Agata, or the present
residence of Ghita. In proceeding thus, Raoul had a double intention
before him. English ships were constantly passing between Sicily, Malta,
and Naples; and, as those bound north would naturally draw in with the
land at this point, his position might enable him to strike a sudden
blow, with the return of day, should any suitable vessel be in the
offing next morning. Then he hoped for a signal from Ghita at least--and
such things were very dear to his heart; or, possibly, anxiety and
affection might bring her down to the water-side, when another interview
would be possible. This was the weakness of passion; and Raoul submitted
to its power, like feebler-minded and less resolute men, the hero
becoming little better than the vulgar herd under its influence.
The two or three last days and nights had been hours of extreme anxiety
and care to the officers and crew of the lugger, as well as to their
commander, and all on board began to feel the necessity of sleep. As for
Ithuel, he had been in his hammock an hour; and Raoul now thought
seriously of following his example. Giving his instructions to the young
lieutenant who was in charge of the deck, our hero went below, and in a
few minutes he was also lost to present hopes and fears.
Everything seemed propitious to the lugger and the intentions of her
commander, The wind went down gradually, until there was little more
than air enough to keep steerage-way on the vessel, while the ripple on
the water disappeared, leaving nothing behind it but the long, heavy
ground-swell that always stirs the bosom of the ocean, like the heaving
respiration of some gigantic animal. The morning grew darker, but the
surface of the gulf was glassy and tranquil, leaving no immediate motive
for watchfulness or care.
These are the lethargic moments of a seaman's life. Days of toil bring
nights of drowsiness; and the repose of nature presents a constant
temptation to imitate her example. The reaction of excitement destroys
the disposition to indulge in the song, the jest, or the tale; and the
mind, like the body, is disposed to rest from its labors. Even the
murmuring wash of the water, as it rises and falls against the vessel's
sides, sounds like a lullaby, and sleep seems to be the one great
blessing of existence. Under such circumstances, therefore, it is not
surprising that the watch on the deck of the lugger indulged this
necessary want. It is permitted to the common men to doze at such
moments, while a few are on the alert; but even duty, in the absence of
necessity, feels its task to be irksome, and difficult of performance.
Lookout after lookout lowered his head; the young man who was seated on
the arm-chest aft began to lose his consciousness of present things, in
dreamy recollections of Provence, his home, and the girl of his youthful
admiration. The seaman at the helm alone kept his eyes open, and all
his faculties on the alert. This is a station in which vigilance is ever
required; and it sometimes happens in vessels where the rigid discipline
of a regular service does not exist, that others rely so much on the
circumstance that they forget their own duties, in depending on the due
discharge of his by the man at the wheel.
Such, to a certain degree, was now the fact on board le Feu-Follet. One
of the best seamen in the lugger was at the helm, and each individual
felt satisfied that no shift of wind could occur, no change of sails
become necessary, that Antoine would not be there to admonish them of
the circumstance. One day was so much like another, too, in that
tranquil season of the year, and in that luxurious sea, that all on
board knew the regular mutations that the hours produced. The southerly
air in the morning, the zephyr in the afternoon, and the land wind at
night, were as much matters of course as the rising and setting of the
sun. No one felt apprehension, while all submitted to the influence of a
want of rest and of the drowsiness of the climate.
Not so with Antoine. His hairs were gray. Sleep was no longer so
necessary to him. He had much pride of calling, too; was long
experienced, and possessed senses sharpened and rendered critical by
practice and many dangers. Time and again did he turn his eyes toward
Campanella, to ascertain if any signs of the enemy were in sight; the
obscurity prevented anything from being visible but the dark outline of
the high and rock-bound coast. Then he glanced his eyes over the deck,
and felt how completely everything depended on his own vigilance and
faithfulness. The look at the sails and to windward brought no cause for
uneasiness, however; and, presuming on his isolation, he began to sing,
in suppressed tones, an air of the Troubadours; one that he had learned
in childhood, in his native _langue du midi_. Thus passed the minutes
until Antoine saw the first glimmerings of morning peeping out of the
darkness, that came above the mountain-tops that lay in the vicinity of
Eboli. Antoine felt solitary; he was not sorry to greet these symptoms
of a return to the animation and communion of a new day.
"Hist! _mon lieutenant!_" whispered the old mariner, unwilling to expose
the drowsiness of his young superior to the gaze of the common men;
"_mon lieutenant_--'tis I, Antoine."
"Eh!--_bah!--Oh, Antoine, est-ce-que toi? Bon_--what would you have,
_mon ami_?"
"I hear the surf, I think, _mon lieutenant._ Listen--is not that the
water striking on the rocks of the shore?"
"_Jamais!_ You see the land is a mile from us; this coast has no shoals.
The captain told us to stand close in, before we hove to or called him.
_Pardie!_--Antoine, how the little witch has travelled in my watch! Here
we are, within a musket's range from the heights, yet there has been
no wind."
"_Pardon, mon lieutenant_--I do not like that sound of the surf; it is
too near for the shore. Will you have the kindness to step on the
forecastle and look ahead, monsieur?--the light is beginning to be
of use."
The young man yawned, stretched his arms, and walked forward; the first
to indulge himself, the first, also, to relieve the uneasiness of an old
shipmate, whose experience he respected. Still his step was not as quick
as common, and it was near a minute ere he reached the bows, or before
he gained the knight-heads. But his form was no sooner visible there,
than he waved his arms frantically, and shouted in a voice that reached
the recesses of the vessel:
"Hard up--hard up with the helm, Antoine--ease off the sheets, _mes
enfans!_"
Le Feu-Follet rose on a heavy ground-swell at that moment; in the next
she settled down with a shock resembling that which we experience when
we leap and alight sooner than was expected. There she lay cradled in a
bed of rocks as immovable as one of the stones around her;--stones that
had mocked the billows of the Mediterranean, within the known annals of
man, more than three thousand years. In a word, the lugger had struck on
one of those celebrated islets under the heights of St. Agata, known as
the Islands of the Sirens, and which are believed to have been
commemorated by the oldest of all the living profane writers, Homer
himself. The blow was hardly given, before Raoul appeared on deck. The
vessel gave up all that had life in her, and she was at once a scene of
alarm, activity, and exertion.
It is at such a moment as this that the most useful qualities of a naval
captain render themselves apparent. Of all around him, Raoul was the
calmest, the most collected, and the best qualified to issue the orders
that had become necessary. He made no exclamations--uttered not a word
of reproach--cast not even a glance of disapprobation on any near him.
The mischief was done; the one thing needful was to repair it, if
possible, leaving to the future the cares of discipline and the
distribution of rewards and punishments.
"She is as fast anchored as a cathedral, _mon lieutenant_," he quietly
observed to the very officer through whose remissness the accident had
occurred; "I see no use in these sails. Take them in at once; they may
set her further on the rocks, should she happen to lift."
The young man obeyed, every nerve in his body agitated by the sense of
delinquency. Then he walked aft, cast one look around him at the
desperate condition of the lugger, and, with the impetuosity of
character that belongs to his country, he plunged into the sea, from
which his body never reappeared. The melancholy suicide was immediately
reported to Raoul.
"_Bon_ "--was the answer. "Had he done it an hour earlier, le Feu-Follet
would not have been set up on these rocks, like a vessel in a
ship-yard--_mais, mes enfans, courage!_--We'll yet see if our beautiful
lugger cannot be saved."
If there were stoicism and bitterness in this answer, there was not
deliberate cruelty. Raoul loved his lugger, next to Ghita, before all
things on earth; and, in his eyes, the fault of wrecking her in a calm
was to be classed among the unpardonable sins. Still, it was by no means
a rare occurrence. Ships, like men, are often cast away by an excess of
confidence; and our own coast, one of the safest in the known world for
the prudent mariner to approach, on account of the regularity of its
soundings, has many a tale to tell of disasters similar to this, which
have occurred simply because no signs of danger were apparent. Our hero
would not have excused himself for such negligence, and that which
self-love will not induce us to pardon will hardly be conceded to
philanthropy.
The pumps were sounded, and it was ascertained that the lugger had come
down so easily into her bed, and lay there with so little straining of
her seams, that she continued tight as a bottle. This left all the hope
which circumstances would allow, of still saving the vessel. Raoul
neglected no useful precaution. By this time the light was strong enough
to enable him to see a felucca coming slowly down from Salerno, before
the wind, or all that was still left of the night air, and he despatched
Ithuel with an armed boat to seize her, and bring her alongside of the
rocks. He took this course with the double purpose of using the prize,
if practicable, in getting his own vessel off, or, in the last resort,
of making his own escape, and that of his people, in her to France. He
did not condescend to explain his motives, however; nor did any one
presume to inquire into them. Raoul was now strictly a commander, acting
in a desperate emergency. He even succeeded in suppressing the
constitutional volubility of his countrymen, and in substituting for it
the deep, attentive silence of thorough discipline; one of the great
causes of his own unusual success in maritime enterprises. To the want
of this very silence and attention may be ascribed so many of those
naval disasters which have undeniably befallen a people of singular
enterprise and courage. Those who wish them well will be glad to learn
that the evil has been, in a great measure, repaired.
As soon as the boat was sent to seize the felucca, the yawl was put into
the water, and Raoul himself began to sound around the lugger. The rocks
of the Sirens, as the islets are called to this day, are sufficiently
elevated above the surface of the sea to be visible at some distance;
though, lying in a line with the coast, it would not have been easy for
the lookouts of le Feu-Follet to discern them at the hour when she
struck, even had they been on the alert. The increasing light, however,
enabled the French fully to ascertain their position, and to learn the
extent of the evil. The lugger had been lifted into a crevice between
two of the rocks, by a ground-swell heavier than common; and though
there was deep water all around her, it would be impossible to get her
afloat again without lightening. So long as the wind did not blow, and
the sea did not rise, she was safe enough; but a swell that should force
the hull to rise and fall would inevitably cause her to bilge. These
facts were learned in five minutes after the yawl was in the water, and
much did Raoul rejoice at having so promptly sent Ithuel in quest of the
felucca. The rocks were next reconnoitred, in order to ascertain what
facilities they offered to favor the discharging of the vessel's stores.
Some of them were high enough to protect articles from the wash of the
water, but it is at all times difficult to lie alongside of rocks that
are exposed to the open sea; the heaving and setting of the element,
even in calms, causing the elevation of its surface so much to vary. On
the present occasion, however, the French found less swell than common,
and that it was possible to get their stores ashore at two or three
different points.
Raoul now directed the work to commence in earnest. The lugger carried
four boats; viz.--a launch, a cutter, the yawl, and a jolly-boat. The
second had been sent after the felucca, with a strong crew in her; but
the three others were employed in discharging stores. Raoul perceived at
once that the moment was not one for half-way measures, and that large
sacrifices must be made, to save the hull of the vessel. This, and the
safety of his crew, were the two great objects he kept before him. All
his measures were directed to that end, The water was started in the
lugger's hold by staving the casks, and the pumps were set in motion as
soon as possible. Provisions of all sorts were cast into the sea, for le
Feu-Follet had recently supplied herself from a prize, and was a little
deeper than her best trim allowed. In short, everything that could be
spared was thrown overboard, barely a sufficiency of food and water
being retained to last the people until they could reach Corsica,
whither it was their captain's intention to proceed, the moment he got
his vessel afloat.
The Mediterranean has no regular tides, though the water rises and falls
materially, at irregular intervals; either the effect of gales, or of
the influence of the adjacent seas. This circumstance prevented the
calamity of having gone ashore at high water, while it also prevented
the mariners from profiting by any flood. It left them, as they had been
placed by the accident itself, mainly dependent on their own exertions.
Under such circumstances, then, our hero set about the discharge of his
responsible duties. An hour of active toil, well directed and
perseveringly continued, wrought a material change, The vessel was
small, while the number of hands was relatively large. At the end of the
time mentioned, the officer charged with the duty reported that the hull
moved under the power of the heaving sea, and that it might soon be
expected to strike with a force to endanger its planks and ribs. This
was the sign to cease discharging, and to complete the preparations that
had been making for heaving the lugger off, it being unsafe to delay
that process after the weight was sufficiently lessened to allow it.
The launch had carried out an anchor, and was already returning toward
the rocks, paying out cable as it came in. But the depth of the water
rendered this an anxious service, since there was the danger of dragging
the ground-tackle home, as it is termed, on account of the angle at
which it lay.
At this moment, with the exception of difficulty last named, everything
seemed propitious. The wind had gone done entirely, the southerly air
having lasted but a short time, and no other succeeding it. The sea was
certainly not more disturbed than it had been all the morning, which was
at its minimum of motion, while the day promised to be calm and clear.
Nothing was in sight but the felucca, and she was not only in Ithuel's
possession, but she had drawn within half a mile of the rocks, and was
sweeping still nearer at each instant. In ten minutes she must come
alongside. Raoul had ascertained that there was water enough, were le
Feu-Follet lay, to permit a vessel like his prize to touch her; and many
things lay on deck, in readiness to be transferred to this tender,
previously to beginning to heave. The rocks too, were well garnished
with casks, cordage, shot, ballast, and such other articles and could be
come at--the armament and ammunition excepted. These last our hero
always treated with religious care, for in all he did there was a latent
determination resolutely to defend himself. But there ware no signs of
any such necessity's being likely to occur, and the officers began to
flatter themselves with their ability to get their lugger afloat, and in
sailing trim, before the usual afternoon's breeze should set in. In
waiting, therefore, for the arrival of the felucca, and in order that
the work might meet with no interruption when the men once began to
heave, the people were ordered to get their breakfasts.
This pause in the proceedings gave Raoul an opportunity to look about
him, and to reflect. Twenty times did he turn his eyes anxiously toward
the heights of St. Agata, where there existed subjects equally of
attraction and apprehension. It is scarcely necessary to say that the
first was Ghita; while the last arose from the fear that some curious
eye might recognize the lugger, and report her condition to the enemies
known to be lying at Capri, only a league or two on the other side of
the hills. But all was seemingly tranquil there, at that early hour; and
the lugger making very little show when her canvas was not spread, there
was reason to hope that the accident was as yet unseen. The approach of
the felucca would probably betray it; though the precaution had been
taken to order Ithuel to show no signs of national character.
Raoul Yvard was a very different man, at this moment of leisure and
idleness, from what he had been a few hours earlier. Then he trod the
deck of his little cruiser with some such feelings as the man who exults
in his strength and rejoices in his youth. Now he felt as all are apt to
feel who are rebuked by misfortunes and disease. Nevertheless, his
character had lost none of its high chivalry; and even there, as he sat
on the taffrail of the stranded Feu-Follet, he meditated carrying some
stout Englishman by surprise and boarding, in the event of his not
succeeding in getting off the lugger. The felucca would greatly aid such
an enterprise; and his crew was strong enough, as well as sufficiently
trained, to promise success.
On such an expedient, even, was he ruminating, as Ithuel, in obedience
to an order given through the trumpet, brought his prize alongside, and
secured her to the lugger. The men who had accompanied the American were
now dismissed to their morning's meal, while Raoul invited their leader
to share his frugal repast where he sat. As the two broke their fasts,
questions were put and answered, concerning what had occurred during the
hour or two the parties had been separated. Raoul's tale was soon told;
and then he learned with concern that the crew of the felucca had taken
to their boat, and escaped to the landing of the Scaricatojo, on
finding that the capture of their vessel was inevitable. This proved
that the character of the wreck was known, and left but little hope that
their situation would not be reported to the English in the course of
the morning.