THE BAY OF BISCAY.

It was in the latter part of the month of June, of the year seventeen

hundred and ninety something, that the angry waves of the Bay of Biscay

were gradually subsiding, after a gale of wind as violent as it was

unusual during that period of the year. Still they rolled heavily; and,

at times, the wind blew up in fitful, angry gusts, as if it would fain

renew the elemental combat; but each effort was more feeble, and the

dark clouds which had been summoned to the storm, now fled in every

quarter before the powerful rays of the sun, who burst their masses

asunder with a glorious flood of light and heat; and, as he poured down

his resplendent beams, piercing deep into the waters of that portion of

the Atlantic to which we now refer, with the exception of one object,

hardly visible, as at creation, there was a vast circumference of water,

bounded by the fancied canopy of heaven. We have said, with the

exception of one object; for in the centre of this picture, so simple,

yet so sublime, composed of the three great elements, there was a

remnant of the fourth. We say a remnant, for it was but the hull of a

vessel, dismasted, water-logged, its upper works only floating

occasionally above the waves, when a transient repose from their still

violent undulation permitted it to reassume its buoyancy. But this was

seldom; one moment it was deluged by the seas, which broke as they

poured over its gunwale; and the next, it rose from its submersion, as

the water escaped from the portholes at its sides.

How many thousands of vessels--how many millions of property--have been

abandoned, and eventually consigned to the all-receiving depths of the

ocean, through ignorance or through fear! What a mine of wealth must

lie buried in its sands! what riches lie entangled amongst its rocks, or

remain suspended in its unfathomable gulf, where the compressed fluid is

equal in gravity to that which it encircles, there to remain secured in

its embedment from corruption and decay, until the destruction of the

universe and the return of chaos!--Yet, immense as the accumulated loss

may be, the major part of it has been occasioned from an ignorance of

one of the first laws of nature, that of specific gravity. The vessel

to which we have referred was, to all appearance, in a situation of as

extreme hazard as that of a drowning man clinging to a single rope-yarn;

yet, in reality, she was more secure from descending to the abyss below

than many gallantly careering on the waters, their occupants dismissing

all fear, and only calculating upon a quick arrival into port.

The _Circassian_ had sailed from New Orleans, a gallant and

well-appointed ship, with a cargo, the major part of which consisted of

cotton. The captain was, in the usual acceptation of the term, a good

sailor; the crew were hardy and able seamen. As they crossed the

Atlantic, they had encountered the gale to which we have referred, were

driven down into the Bay of Biscay, where, as we shall hereafter

explain, the vessel was dismasted, and sprang a leak, which baffled all

their exertions to keep under. It was now five days since the

frightened crew had quitted the vessel in two of her boats, one of which

had swamped, and every soul that occupied it had perished; the fate of

the other was uncertain.

We said that the crew had deserted the vessel, but we did not assert

that every existing being had been removed out of her. Had such been

the case, we should not have taken up the reader's time in describing

inanimate matter. It is life that we portray, and life there still was

in the shattered hull thus abandoned to the mockery of the ocean. In

the _caboose_ of the _Circassian_, that is, in the cooking-house secured

on deck, and which fortunately had been so well fixed as to resist the

force of the breaking waves, remained three beings--a man, a woman, and

a child. The two first mentioned were of that inferior race which have,

for so long a period, been procured from the sultry Afric coast, to

toil, but reap not for themselves; the child which lay at the breast of

the female was of European blood, now, indeed, deadly pale, as it

attempted in vain to draw sustenance from its exhausted nurse, down

whose sable cheeks the tears coursed, as she occasionally pressed the

infant to her breast, and turned it round to leeward to screen it from

the spray which dashed over them at each returning swell. Indifferent

to all else, save her little charge, she spoke not, although she

shuddered with the cold as the water washed her knees each time that the

hull was careened into the wave. Cold and terror had produced a change

in her complexion, which now wore a yellow, or sort of copper hue.

The male, who was her companion, sat opposite to her upon the iron range

which once had been the receptacle of light and heat, but was now but a

weary seat to a drenched and worn-out wretch. He, too, had not spoken

for many hours; with the muscles of his face relaxed, his thick lips

pouting far in advance of his collapsed cheeks, his high cheekbones

prominent as budding horns, his eyes displaying little but their whites,

he appeared to be an object of greater misery than the female, whose

thoughts were directed to the infant and not unto herself. Yet his

feelings were still acute, although his faculties appeared to be

deadened by excess of suffering.

"Eh, me!" cried the negro woman faintly, after a long silence, her head

falling back with extreme exhaustion. Her companion made no reply, but,

roused at the sound of her voice, bent forward, slided open the door a

little, and looked out to windward. The heavy spray dashed into his

glassy eyes, and obscured his vision; he groaned, and fell back into his

former position. "What you tink, Coco?" inquired the negress, covering

up more carefully the child, as she bent her head down upon it. A look

of despair, and a shudder from cold and hunger, were the only reply.

It was then about eight o'clock in the morning, and the swell of the

ocean was fast subsiding. At noon the warmth of the sun was

communicated to them through the planks of the _caboose_, while its rays

poured a small stream of vivid light through the chinks of the closed

panels. The negro appeared gradually to revive; at last he rose, and

with some difficulty contrived again to slide open the door. The sea

had gradually decreased its violence, and but occasionally broke over

the vessel; carefully holding on by the door-jambs, Coco gained the

outside, that he might survey the horizon.

"What you see, Coco?" said the female, observing from the _caboose_ that

his eyes were fixed upon a certain quarter.

"So help me God, me tink me see something; but ab so much salt water in

um eye, me no see clear," replied Coco, rubbing away the salt which had

crystallised on his face during the morning.

"What you tink um like, Coco?"

"Only one bit cloud," replied he, entering the _caboose_, and resuming

his seat upon the grate with a heavy sigh.

"Eh, me!" cried the negress, who had uncovered the child to look at it,

and whose powers were sinking fast. "Poor lilly Massa Eddard, him look

very bad indeed--him die very soon, me fear. Look, Coco, no ab breath."

The child's head fell back upon the breast of its nurse, and life

appeared to be extinct.

"Judy, you no ab milk for piccaninny; suppose um ab no milk, how can

live? Eh! stop, Judy, me put lilly fingers in um mouth; suppose Massa

Eddard no dead, him pull."

Coco inserted his finger into the child's mouth, and felt a slight

drawing pressure. "Judy," cried Coco, "Massa Eddard no dead yet. Try

now, suppose you ab lilly drop oder side."

Poor Judy shook her head mournfully, and a tear rolled down her cheek;

she was aware that nature was exhausted. "Coco," said she, wiping her

cheek with the back of her hand, "me give me heart blood for Massa

Eddard; but no ab milk--all gone."

This forcible expression of love for the child, which was used by Judy,

gave an idea to Coco. He drew his knife out of his pocket, and very

coolly sawed to the bone of his fore-finger. The blood flowed and

trickled down to the extremity, which he applied to the mouth of the

infant.

"See, Judy, Massa Eddard suck--him not dead," cried Coco, chuckling at

the fortunate result of the experiment, and forgetting at the moment

their almost hopeless situation.

The child, revived by the strange sustenance, gradually recovered its

powers, and in a few minutes it pulled at the finger with a certain

degree of vigour.

"Look Judy, how Massa Eddard take it," continued Coco. "Pull away,

Massa Eddard, pull away. Coco ab ten finger, and take long while suck

em all dry." But the child was soon satisfied, and fell asleep in the

arms of Judy.

"Coco, suppose you go see again," observed Judy. The negro again

crawled out, and again he scanned the horizon.

"So help me God, dis time me tink, Judy--yes, so help me God, me see a

ship!" cried Coco, joyfully.

"Eh!" screamed Judy, faintly, with delight: "den Massa Eddard no die."

"Yes, so help me God--he come dis way!" and Coco, who appeared to have

recovered a portion of his former strength and activity, clambered on

the top of the _caboose_, where he sat, cross-legged, waving his yellow

handkerchief, with the hope of attracting the attention of those on

board; for he knew that it was very possible that an object floating

little more than level with the water's surface might escape notice.

As it fortunately happened, the frigate, for such she was, continued her

course precisely for the wreck, although it had not been perceived by

the look-out men at the mast-heads, whose eyes had been directed to the

line of the horizon. In less than an hour our little party were

threatened with a new danger, that of being run over by the frigate,

which was now within a cable's length of them, driving the seas before

her in one widely extended foam, as she pursued her rapid and impetuous

course. Coco shouted to his utmost, and fortunately attracted the

notice of the men who were on the bowsprit, stowing away the

foretopmast-staysail, which had been hoisted up to dry after the gale.

"Starboard, hard!" was roared out.

"Starboard it is," was the reply from the quarterdeck, and the helm was

shifted without inquiry, as it always is on board of a man-of-war,

although, at the same time, it behoves people to be rather careful how

they pass such an order, without being prepared with a subsequent and

most satisfactory explanation.

The topmast studding-sail flapped and fluttered, the foresail shivered,

and the jib filled as the frigate rounded to, narrowly missing the

wreck, which was now under the bows, rocking so violently in the white

foam of the agitated waters, that it was with difficulty that Coco

could, by clinging to the stump of the mainmast, retain his elevated

position. The frigate shortened sail, hove to, and lowered down a

quarter-boat, and in less than five minutes Coco, Judy, and the infant,

were rescued from their awful situation. Poor Judy, who had borne up

against all for the sake of the child, placed it in the arms of the

officer who relieved them, and then fell back in a state of

insensibility, in which condition she was carried on board. Coco, as he

took his place in the stern-sheets of the boat, gazed wildly round him,

and then broke out into peals of extravagant laughter, which continued

without intermission, and were the only replies which he could give to

the interrogatories of the quarter-deck, until he fell down in a swoon,

and was entrusted to the care of the surgeon.

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