It was a gloomy evening. A small group of fishermen were standing--at
the end of a rough wooden pier projecting out into the water and forming
the southern side of the mouth of a small river. A thick mist, which
drove in across the German Ocean, obscured the sky, and prevented any
object being seen beyond a few hundred fathoms from the shore, on which
the dark leaden-coloured waves broke lazily in with that sullen-sounding
roar which often betokens the approach of a heavy gale.
On the north side of the river was a wide extent of sandy ground, where
the vegetation consisted of stunted furze-bushes and salt-loving plants
with leaves of a dull pale green, growing among patches of coarse grass,
the roots of which assisted to keep the sand from being blown away by
the fierce wintry gales which blew across it. On the right hand of the
fishermen as they looked seaward, and beyond an intervening level space,
rose a line of high cliffs of light clay and sand extending far to the
southward, with a narrow beach at their base. Parallel with the river
was a green bank, on the sides of which were perched several cottages,
the materials composing them showing that they were the abodes of the
hardy men who gained their livelihood on the salt deep. The palings
which surrounded them, the sheds and outhouses, and even the ornaments
with which they were decorated, were evidently portions of wrecks. Over
the door of one might be seen the figure-head of some unfortunate
vessel. An arbour, not rustic but nautical, was composed of the carved
work of a Dutch galliot; indeed, the owners of few had failed to secure
some portion of the numerous hapless vessels which from time to time had
been driven on their treacherous coast.
On the level ground between the cliff and the river stood two or three
other cottages. One, the largest of them, appeared to be built almost
entirely of wreck wood, from the uneven appearance presented by the
walls and roof, the architect having apparently adapted such pieces of
timber as came to hand without employing the saw to bring them into more
fitting shape; the chimney, however, and the lower portions of the
walls, were constructed of hewn stone, taken probably from some ancient
edifice long demolished. Though the exterior of the cottage, with its
boat and fish sheds, looked somewhat rough, it had altogether a
substantial and not uncomfortable appearance.
The most conspicuous object in the landscape was a windmill standing a
little way to the southward on the top of the cliff. Its sails were
moving slowly round, but their tattered condition showed that but a
small amount of grist was ground within.
Such was the aspect of the little village of Hurlston and its
surroundings towards the end of the last century. It was not especially
attractive--indeed few scenes would have appeared to advantage at that
moment; but when sunshine lighted up the blue dancing waters, varied by
the shadows of passing clouds, the marine painter might have found many
subjects for his pencil among the picturesque cottages, their sturdy
inhabitants, the wild cliffs, and the yellow strand glittering with
shells.
Farther inland the country improved. On the higher ground to the south
were neat cottages rising among shrubberies, the parish church with its
square tower, and yet farther off the mansion of Sir Reginald Castleton,
in the midst of its park, with its broad lake, its green meadows and
clumps of wide-spreading trees, surrounded by a high paling forbidding
the ingress of strangers, and serving to secure the herd of graceful
deer which bounded amidst its glades.
The fishermen--regardless of the driving mist, which, settling on their
flushing coats and sou'-westers, ran off them in streamlets--kept
turning their eyes seawards, endeavouring to penetrate the increasing
gloom.
"Here comes Adam Halliburt!" exclaimed one of them, turning round; "we
shall hear what he thinks of the weather. If he has made up his mind to
go to sea to-night, it must come on much worse than it now is to keep
him at home."
As these words were uttered, a tall man a little past middle age,
strongly-built and hardy-looking as the youngest, habited like the rest
in fisherman's costume, was seen approaching from the largest of the
cottages on the level ground. His face, though weather-beaten, glowed
with health, his forehead was broad, his bright blue eyes beaming with
good-nature and kindly feeling. He was followed by a stout fisher-boy
carrying a coil of rope over his shoulders, and a basket of provisions
in his hand. Two other lads, who had been with the men on the pier, ran
to meet him.
"They are doubtful about going to sea to-night. What do you think of
it, father?" said the eldest.
"There is nothing to stop us that I see, Ben, unless it comes on to blow
harder than it does now," answered Adam, in a cheery voice. "The
_Nancy_ knows her way to our fishing-grounds as well as we do, and it
must be a bad night indeed to stop her."
"What do you think of it, Adam?" asked two or three of the men, when he
got among them.
Halliburt turned his face seaward, sheltering his eyes with his hand
from the thick drizzle which the mist had now become.
"If the wind holds from the south-east there will be nothing to stop
us," he answered, after waiting a minute. "It is likely, however, to be
a dirtier night than I had thought for--I will own that. Jacob," he
said to his youngest boy, "do you go back and stay with your mother, she
wants some help in the house, and you can look after the pigs and
poultry before we are back in the morning."
Jacob, a fine lad of ten or twelve years, though he looked older, seemed
somewhat disappointed, as he had expected to have gone to sea with his
father and brothers. Without attempting, however, to expostulate, he
immediately turned back towards the cottage, while the rest of the party
proceeded to the _Nancy_, a fine yawl which lay at anchor close to the
pier.
She was quickly hauled alongside, when some of the men jumped into her.
Before following them, Adam Halliburt took another glance seaward. The
wind drove the rain and spray with greater force than before against his
face.
"We will wait a bit, lads," he said. "There is no great hurry, and in a
few minutes we shall make out what the weather is going to be."
His own sons and some of the men remained in the boat, knowing that he
was not likely to give up his intention unless the weather speedily
became much worse. Others followed him back to the pier-head, over
which the spray beat in frequent showers, showing that the sea had got
up considerably, even since they had left it.
They had retreated back a few paces to avoid the salt showers. Adam
still seemed somewhat unwilling to give up putting to sea, when the dull
sound of a gun from the offing reached their ears. Another and another
followed.
"There is a ship on Norton Sands," observed one of the men. "Those guns
are too far off for that," answered Halliburt. Two others followed, and
then came the thunder-sounding reports of several fired together.
"I was sure those were not guns of distress. They come from ships in
action, depend on that; and the news is true we heard yesterday, that
the French and English are at it again," exclaimed Adam. "I thought we
shouldn't long remain friends with the Mounsiers."
"Good luck be with the English ships!" cried one of the fishermen.
"Amen to that! but they must be careful what they are about, for with
the wind dead on shore, if they knock away each other's spars, they are
both more than likely to drift on Norton Sands, and if they do, the Lord
have mercy on them," said Adam, solemnly. "Whichever gets the victory,
they will be in a bad way, as I fear, after all, it will be a dirty
night. The wind has shifted three points to the eastward since I left
home, and it's blowing twice as hard as it did ten minutes ago. We may
as well run the _Nancy_ up to her moorings, lads."
As one of the men was hurrying off to carry this order to the rest, a
heavier blast than before came across the ocean. It had the effect of
rending the veil of mist in two, and the rain ceasing, the keen eyes of
the fishermen distinguished in the offing two ships running towards the
land, the one a short distance ahead of the other, which was firing at
her from her bow-chasers, the leading and smaller vessel returning the
fire with her after guns, and apparently determined either to gain a
sheltering harbour or to run on shore rather than be taken. The moment
that revealed her to the spectators showed those on board how near she
was to the shore, though evidently they were not aware of the still
nearer danger of the treacherous sandbank. An exclamation of dismay and
pity escaped those who were looking at her.
"If she had been half a mile to the nor'ard she might have stood through
Norton Gut and been safe," observed Halliburt; "but if she is a stranger
there is little chance of her hauling off in time to escape the sands."
While he was speaking, the sternmost ship was seen to come to the wind;
her yards were braced up, and now, apparently aware of her danger, she
endeavoured to stand off the land before the rising gale should render
the undertaking impossible. The hard-pressed chase directly afterwards
attempted to follow her example. She was already on a wind when again
the mist closed over the ocean, and she was hidden from sight.
"We will keep the _Nancy_ where she is," said Halliburt; "we don't know
what may happen. If yonder ship drives on the sands--and she has but a
poor chance of keeping off them, I fear--we cannot let her people perish
without trying to save them; and though it may be a hard job to get
alongside the wreck, yet some of the poor fellows may be drifted away
from her on rafts or spars, and we may be able to pick them up.
Whatever happens, we must do our best."
"Ay, ay, Adam," answered several of his hardy crew, who stood around
him; "where you think fit to go we are ready to go too."
The party had not long to wait before their worst apprehensions were
realised. The dull report of a gun, which their practised ears told
them came from Norton Sands, was heard; in another minute the sound of a
second gun boomed over the waters; a third followed even before the same
interval had elapsed. That the ship had struck and was in dire distress
there could be no doubt, but when they gazed at the dark, heaving waves
which rolled in crested with foam, and just discernible in the fast
waning twilight, and felt the fierce blast against which even they could
scarcely stand upright on the slippery pier, hardy and bold as they
were, they hesitated about venturing forth to the rescue of the hapless
crew. Long before they could reach the wreck darkness would be resting
on the troubled ocean; they doubted, indeed, whether they could force
their boat out in the teeth of the fierce gale.
Adam took a turn on the pier. His heart was greatly troubled. He had
never failed, if a boat could live, to be among the first to dash out to
the rescue of his fellow-creatures when a ship had been cast on those
treacherous sandbanks. The hazard was great. He knew that with the
strength of his crew exhausted the boat might be hurled back amid the
breakers, to be dashed on the shore; or, should they even succeed in
reaching the neighbourhood of the wreck, where the greatest danger was
to be encountered, they might fail in getting near enough to save any of
the people.
Every moment of delay increased the risk which must be run.
"Lads, we will try and do it," he said at length; "maybe she has struck
on the lowest part of the bank, and we shall be able to cross it at the
top of high water. Come along, we will talk no more about it, but try
and do what we have got to do."
Just at that instant the words, uttered in a shrill, loud tone, were
heard:--
"Foolish men, have you a mind to drown yourselves in the deep salt sea!
Stay, I charge you, or take the consequence."
The voice seemed to come out of the darkness, for no one was seen. The
men looked round over their shoulders. Directly afterwards a tall thin
figure, habited in grey from head to foot, emerged from the gloom.
Those who beheld it might have been excused if they supposed it rather a
phantom than a being of the earth, so shadowy did it appear in the thick
mist.
"The spirit of the air forbids your going, and I, his messenger, warn
you that you seek destruction if you disobey him."
The men gathered closer to each other as the figure approached. It was
now seen to be that of a tall, gaunt woman. Her loose cloak and the
long grey hair which hung over her shoulders blew out in the wind,
giving her face a wild and weird look, for she wore no covering to
restrain her locks, with the exception of a mass of dry dark seaweed,
formed in the shape of a crown, twisted round the top of her head.
"I have seen the ship you are about to visit. I knew what her fate
would be even yesternight when she was floating proudly on the ocean;
she was doomed to destruction, and so will be all those who venture on
board her. If you go out to her, I tell you that none of you will
return. I warn you, Adam Halliburt, and I warn you all! Go not out to
her, she is doomed! she is doomed! she is doomed!"
As the woman uttered these words she disappeared in the darkness. The
men stood irresolute.
"What, lads, are you to be frightened at what `Sal of the Salt Sea'
says, or `Silly Sally,' as some of you call her?" exclaimed Adam. "Let
us put our trust in God, He will take care of us, if it's His good
pleasure. It's our duty to try and help our fellow-creatures. Do you
think an old mad woman knows more than He who rules the waves, or that
anything she can say in her folly will prevent Him from watching over us
and bringing us back in safety?"
Adam's appeal had its due effect. Even the most superstitious were
ashamed of refusing to accompany him. When he sprang on board the boat
his crew willingly followed. He would have sent back his second boy
Sam, but the lad earnestly entreated to be taken.
"If you go, father, why should I stop behind? Jacob will look after
mother, and I would rather share whatever may happen to you," he said.
Adam and his men were soon on board the boat: the most of them had
shares in her, and thus they risked their property as well as their
lives. The oars were got out, and the men, fixing themselves firmly in
their seats, prepared for the task before them.
Shoving off from the shore, Adam took the helm. The men pulled away
right lustily, and emerging from the harbour, in another minute they
were breasting the heaving foam-crested billows in the teeth of the
gale. Sometimes, when a stronger blast than usual swept over the water,
they appeared, instead of making headway, to be drifting back towards
the dimly-seen shore astern. Now, again exerting all their strength,
they once more made progress in the direction of the wreck.
All this time the minute guns had been heard, showing that the ship
still held together, and that help, if it came, would not be useless.
The sound encouraged Adam and his crew to persevere. The reports,
however, now came at longer intervals than at first from each other.
Several minutes at length elapsed, and no report was heard. Adam
listened--not another came. The crew of the _Nancy_, however,
persevered, but even Adam, as he observed the slow progress they had
made, became convinced that their efforts would prove of no avail.
The gale continued to increase, the foaming seas leaped and roared
around them more wildly than before. Even to return would now be an
operation of danger, but Adam with sorrow saw that it must be attempted.
For an hour or more no headway had been made. He waited for a lull,
then giving the word, the boat was rapidly pulled round, and surrounded
by hissing masses of foam, she rapidly shot back within the shelter of
the harbour. The sinews of her crew were too well strung to feel much
fatigue under ordinary circumstances, but the strongest had to
acknowledge that they could not have pulled much longer.
"We must not give it up, though, lads," said Adam. "I am sure no
beachmen will be able to launch their boats to-night along the coast.
If the wind goes down ever so little, we must try it again; you will not
think of deserting the poor people if there is a chance of saving them,
I know that."
His crew responded to his appeal, and agreed to wait for the chance of
being able to get off later in the night.
Looking towards the landing-place, the tall figure of Sal of the Salt
Sea was seen standing on the edge of the pier gazing down upon them.
"Foolish men! you have had your toil for nought, yet it is well for you
that you could not reach the doomed ship. I warned you, and you
disregarded me. I commanded the winds and waves to stop your progress;
they listened to my orders and obeyed me. You will not another time
venture to disregard my warnings. Now go to your homes, and be thankful
that I did not think fit to punish you for your folly. Again I warn you
that yonder ship is doomed! is doomed! is doomed!"
While the old woman was uttering these words in the same harsh, loud
tones as before, Adam and his crew were making their way to the
landing-place. Before they reached it, however, the strange being had
disappeared in the darkness, though her voice could be heard as she took
her way apparently towards the cliffs.
"Again, lads, I say, don't let what you have heard from the poor mad
woman trouble you," exclaimed Adam. "Come to my cottage, and we will
have a bite of supper, and wait till we have the chance of getting off
again."
Dame Halliburt, expecting them, had prepared supper. The sanded floors
and rough chairs and stools which formed the furniture of her abode were
not to be injured by their dripping garments. During the meal Adam, or
one of the men, went out more than once to judge if there was likely to
be a change. Still the gale blew as fiercely as ever. Some threw
themselves down on the floor to rest, while Adam, filling his pipe, sat
in his arm-chair by the fire, still resolved as at first to persevere.