WHAT OF THE NIGHT?
Harry Northend had been through many perils and trying scenes in the
wilderness of the North-west; but just now he felt more wretched from
physical fear than ever before.
It was useless for him to lie upon his hammock, and he only did so
because he had nothing else to do. Finally he leaped down upon the
floor, and taking a seat upon the bench, concluded to sit out the night.
The lantern swinging from the roof threw a dim, yellow glare through the
cabin, and, as he mechanically looked up, he saw a half-dozen
life-preservers dangling beside it. They were made of cork, and were the
same as he had often seen upon the Mississippi steamers.
Unfastening one of the useful articles, he carefully fastened it beneath
his shoulders, and then resuming his seat, waited as the terrible
moments dragged slowly by.
Harry was sitting with bowed head, his thoughts upon his mother and
home, when he was again brought to his feet by another outburst. This
time it was the heavy boom of thunder, that appeared to burst overhead,
scarcely higher than the masts, and which made the sloop tremble as if
struck by a mountainous surge.
This was the first time since starting that he had heard the noise of
thunder, and somehow or other, whether with or without reason, we can
not say, he had mainly founded his hope upon that fact, persuading
himself that so long as that was absent, there was good reason for
believing the vessel would safely ride out the gale.
The boat was still shivering beneath the shock, when there came another
rattling, reverberating peal, ten times louder than before, and that
paralyzed Harry for the moment with terror.
“The vessel has been struck!” he gasped, as soon as he recovered his
self-possession, and then staggering to the door, he drew it open, and
looked out, expecting to see the boat hissing in flames.
But no; it was still unharmed; but the dense blackness was cut in a
hundred places by the zigzag lightning, that was flaming from every
portion of the heavens, and seemed to be playing about the vessel
preparatory to splitting it into a thousand fragments.
Harry partially ascended from the cabin, and then paused transfixed by
the terrible scene. It was now raining, the drops of water being carried
along almost horizontally by the hurricane, and striking his face like
particles of sand. By the intense brightness of the lightning, he could
catch sight of the towering billows that rushed tumultuously toward the
doomed vessel, each one, as if it were about to overwhelm it, their tops
white with foam, while their concave walls appeared, as momentarily
seen, as if they were of ink.
The wind shrieked and moaned through the cordage, and the captain’s
orders, as he shouted them through his speaking-trumpet, sounded as if
they came from some point miles away. By the same vivid flashes, he
caught sight of him and the seamen, standing like statues, cool,
self-possessed, and ready for whatever the elements should bring them.
Harry was recalled to a more vivid sense of his perilous position by a
tremendous surge, which striking the side of the vessel with all its
force, instead of dashing itself into spray and mist, broke so as to
send an immense volume bodily across the decks, precipitating itself
against him with such violence that he was thrown senseless to the floor
of the cabin.
He had an indistinct recollection of hearing the door slammed to at the
same instant, and concluded, when he recovered his senses, that it had
been done by one of the seamen, as a reminder for him to keep it closed,
so as to prevent the water from entering, the hatches having long since
been fastened down.
The lad did not remain unconscious for any length of time. The sense of
impending danger was too vivid and intense, and the shuddering and
tossing of the vessel too constant for him to continue insensible to it.
Recovering his feet he again sat down, holding on tightly to prevent
himself being tossed upon his head.
And sitting there he could hear the mighty waves sweep over the deck
with a fierce impetuosity that it seemed must rend the vessel asunder.
“How much longer, oh heaven! can this tortured vessel stand this?” he
exclaimed, more than once, as it labored up from the trough of the sea.