“Sit still, and hear the last of our sea sorrow.”
_Shakespeare_
The weight of the tempest had been felt at that hapless moment when
Earing and his unfortunate companions were precipitated from their
giddy elevation into the sea. Though the wind continued to blow long
after this fatal event, it was with a constantly diminishing power. As
the gale decreased the sea began to rise, and the vessel to labour in
proportion. Then followed two hours of anxious watchfulness on the part
of Wilder, during which the whole of his professional knowledge was
needed in order to keep the despoiled hull of the Bristol trader from
becoming a prey to the greedy waters. His consummate skill, however,
proved equal to the task that was required at his hands; and, just as
the symptoms of day were becoming visible along the east, both wind and
waves were rapidly subsiding together. During the whole of this
doubtful period our adventurer did not receive the smallest assistance
from any of the crew, with the exception of two experienced seamen whom
he had previously stationed at the wheel. But to this neglect he was
indifferent; since little more was required than his own judgment,
seconded, as it faithfully was, by the exertions of the manners more
immediately under his eye.
The day dawned on a scene entirely different from that which had marked
the tempestuous deformity of the night. The whole fury of the winds
appeared to have been expended in their precocious effort. From the
moderate gale, to which they had fallen by the end of the middle watch,
they further altered to a vacillating breeze; and, ere the sun had
risen, the changeful air had subsided into a flat calm. The sea went
down as suddenly as the power which had raised, it vanished; and, by
the time the broad golden light of the sun was shed fairly and fully
upon the unstable element, it lay unruffled and polished, though still
gently heaving in swells so long and heavy as to resemble the placid
respiration of a sleeping infant.
The hour was still early, and the serene appearance of the sky and the
ocean gave every promise of a day which might be passed in devising the
expedients necessary to bring the ship again, in some measure, under
the command of her people.
“Sound the pumps,” said Wilder, observing that the crew were appearing
from the different places in which they had bestowed their cares and
their persons together, during the later hours of the night.
“Do you hear me, sir?” he added sternly, observing that no one moved to
obey his order. “Let the pumps be sounded, and the ship cleared of
every inch of water.”
Nighthead, to whom Wilder had now addressed himself, regarded his
Commander with an oblique ind sullen eye, and then exchanged singularly
intelligent glances with his comrades, before he saw fit to make the
smallest motion towards compliance. But there was that, in the
authoritative mien of his superior, which finally induced him to
comply. The dilatory manner in which the seamen performed the duty was
quickened, however, as the rod ascended, and the well-known signs of a
formidable leak met their eyes. The experiment was repeated with
greater activity, and with far more precision.
“If witchcraft can clear the hold of a ship that is already half full
of water,” said Nighthead, casting another sullen glance towards the
attentive Wilder “the sooner it is done the better; for the whole
cunning of something more than a bungler in the same will be needed, in
order to make the pumps of the ‘Royal Caroline’ suck!”
“Does the ship leak?” demanded his superior with a quickness of
utterance which sufficiently proclaimed how important he deemed the
intelligence.
“Yesterday, I would have boldly put my name to the articles of any
craft that floats the ocean; and had the Captain asked me if I
understood her nature and character, as certain as that my name is
Francis Nighthead, I should have told him, yes. But I find that the
oldest seaman may still learn something of the water; though it should
be got in crossing a ferry in a flat.”
“What mean you, sir?” demanded Wilder, who, for the first time, began
to note the mutinous looks assumed by his mate, no less than the
threatening manner in which he was seconded by the crew. “Have the
pumps rigged without delay, and clear the ship of the water.”
Nighthead slowly complied with the former part of this order; and, in a
few moments, every thing was arranged to commence the necessary, and,
as it would seem, urgent duty of pumping. But no man lifted his hand to
the laborious employment. The quick eye of Wilder, who had now taken
the alarm, was not slow in detecting this reluctance; and he repeated
the order more sternly, calling to two of the seamen, by name, to set
the example of obedience. The men hesitated, giving an opportunity to
the mate to confirm them, by his voice, in their mutinous intentions.
“What need of hands to work a pump in a vessel like this?” he said,
with a coarse laugh, but in which secret terror struggled strangely
with open malice. “After what we have all seen this night, none here
will be amazed, should the vessel begin to spout out the brine like a
breathing whale.”
“What am I to understand by this hesitation, and by this language?”
said Wilder, approaching Nighthead with a firm step, and an eye too
proud to quail before the plainest symptoms of insubordination. “Is it
you, sir, who should be foremost in exertion at a moment like this, who
dare to set an example of disobedience?”
The mate recoiled a pace, and his lips moved, still he uttered no
audible reply. Wilder once more bade him, in a calm and authoritative
tone, lay his own hands to the brake. Nighthead then found his voice,
in time to make a flat refusal; and, at the next moment, he was felled
to the feet of his indignant Commander, by a blow he had neither the
address nor the power to resist. This act of decision was succeeded by
one single moment of breathless, wavering silence among the crew; and
then the common cry, and the general rush of every man upon our
defenceless and solitary adventurer, were the signals that open
hostility had commenced. A shriek from the quarter-deck arrested their
efforts; just as a dozen hands were laid violently upon the person of
Wilder, and, for the moment, occasioned a truce. It was the fearful cry
of Gertrude, which possessed even the influence to still the savage
intentions of a set of beings so rude and so unnurtured as those whose
passions had just been awakened into fierce activity. Wilder was
released; and all eyes turned, by a common impulse, in the direction of
the sound.
During the more momentous hours of the past night, the very existence
of the passengers below had been forgotten by most of those whose duty
kept them to the deck. If they had been recalled at all to the
recollection of any, it was at those fleeting moments when the mind of
the young mariner, who directed the movements of the ship, found
leisure to catch stolen glimpses of softer scenes than the wild warring
of the elements that was so actively raging before his eyes. Nighthead
had named them, as he would have made allusion to a part of the cargo,
but their fate had little influence on his hardened nature. Mrs Wyllys
and her charge had therefore remained below during the whole period,
perfectly unapprised of the disasters of the intervening time. Buried
in the recesses of their births, they had heard the roaring of the
winds, and the incessant washing of the waters; but these usual
accompaniments of a storm had served to conceal the crashing of masts,
and the hoarse cries of the mariners. For the moments of terrible
suspense while the Bristol trader lay on her side, the better informed
governess had, indeed, some fearful glimmerings of the truth; but,
conscious of her uselessness and unwilling to alarm her less instructed
companion she had sufficient self-command to be mute. The subsequent
silence, and comparative calm, induced her to believe that she had been
mistaken in her apprehensions; and, long ere morning dawned, both she
and Gertrude had sunk into sweet and refreshing slumbers. They had
risen and mounted to the deck together, and were still in the first
burst of their wonder at the desolation which met their gaze, when the
long-meditated attack on Wilder was made.
“What means this awful change?” demanded Mrs Wyllys, with a lip that
quivered, and a cheek which, notwithstanding the extraordinary power
she possessed over her feelings, was blanched to the colour of death.
The eye of Wilder was glowing, and his brow dark as those heavens from
which they had just so happily escaped, as he answered, menacing his
assailants with an arm,—
“It means mutiny, Madam; rascally, cowardly mutiny!”
“Could mutiny strip a vessel of her masts, and leave her a helpless log
upon the sea?”
“Hark ye, Madam!” roughly interrupted the mate ‘to you I will speak
freely; for it is well known who you are, and that you came on board
the ‘Caroline’ a paying passenger. This night have I seen the heavens
and the ocean behave as I have never seen them behave before. Ships
have been running afore the wind, light and buoyant as corks, with all
their spars stepped and steady, when other ships have been shaved of
every mast as close as the razor sweeps the chin. Cruisers have been
fallen in with, sailing without living hands to work them; and, all
together, no man here has ever before passed a middle watch like the
one gone by.”
“And what has this to do with the violence I have just witnessed? Is
the vessel fated to endure every evil!—Can _you_ explain this, Mr
Wilder?”
“You cannot say, at least, you had no warning of danger,” returned
Wilder, smiling bitterly.
“Ay, the devil is obliged to be honest on compulsion,” resumed the
mate. “Each of his imps sails with his orders; and, thank Heaven!
however he may be minded to overlook the same, he has neither courage
nor power to do it. Otherwise, a peaceful voyage would be such a
rarity, in these unsettled times, that few men would be found hardy
enough to venture on the water for a livelihood.—A warning! Ay, we will
own you gave us open and frequent warning. It was a notice, that the
consignee should not have overlooked, when Nicholas Nichols met with
the hurt, as the anchor was leaving the bottom I never knew an accident
happen at such a time and no evil come of it. Then, had we a warning
with the old man in the boat; besides the never-failing ill luck of
sending the pilot violently out of the ship. As if all this wasn’t
enough, instead of taking a hint, and lying peaceably at our anchors,
we got the ship under way, and left a safe and friendly harbour of a
Friday, of all the days in a week![2] So far from being surprised at
what has happened, I only wonder at finding myself still a living man;
the reason of which is simply this, that I have given my faith where
faith only is due, and not to unknown mariners and strange Commanders.
Had Edward Earing done the same, he might still have had a plank
between him and the bottom; but, though half inclined to believe in the
truth, he had, after all, too much leaning to superstition and
credulity.”
[2] The superstition, that Friday is an evil day, was not peculiar to
Nighthead; it prevails, more or less, among seamen to this hour. An
intelligent merchant of Connecticut had a desire to do his part in
eradicating an impression that is sometimes inconvenient. He caused
the keel of a vessel to be laid on a Friday; she was launched on a
Friday; named the “Friday;” and sailed on her first voyage on a
Friday. Unfortunately for the success of this well-intentioned
experiment, neither vessel nor crew were ever again heard of!
This laboured and characteristic profession of faith in the mate,
though sufficiently intelligible to Wilder, was still a perfect enigma
to his female listeners. But Nighthead had not formed his resolution by
halves, neither had he gone thus far, with any intention to stop short
of the completion of his whole design. In a very few summary words, he
explained to Mrs Wyllys the desolate condition of the ship, and the
utter improbability that she could continue to float many hours; since
actual observation had told him that her lower hold was already half
full of water.
“And what is then to be done?” demanded the governess, casting a glance
of bitter distress towards the pallid and attentive Gertrude. “Is there
no sail in sight, to take us from the wreck? or must we perish in our
helplessness!”
“God-protect us from anymore strange sails!” exclaimed the surly
Nighthead. “There we have the pinnace hanging at the stern, and here
must be land at some forty leagues to the north-west. Water and food
are plenty, and twelve, stout hands can soon pull a boat to the
continent of America; that is, always provided, America is left where
it was seen no later than at the sun-set of yesterday.”
“You then propose to abandon the vessel?”
“I do. The interest of the owners is dear to all good seamen, but life
is sweeter than gold.”
“The will of heaven be done! But surely you meditate no violence
against this gentleman, who, I am quite certain, has governed the
vessel, in very critical circumstances, with a discretion far beyond
his years!”
Nighthead muttered his intentions, whatever they might be, to himself;
and then he walked apart, apparently to confer with the men, who
already seemed but too well disposed to second any of his views,
however mistaken or lawless. During the few moments of suspense that
succeeded, Wilder stood silent and composed, a smile of something like
scorn struggling about his lip, and maintaining the air rather of one
who had power to decide on the fortunes of others, than of a man whose
own fate was most probably at that very moment in discussion. When the
dull minds of the seamen had arrived at their conclusion, the mate
advanced to proclaim the result. Indeed, words were unnecessary, in
order to make known a very material part of their decision; for a party
of the men proceeded instantly to lower the stern-boat into the water,
while others set about supplying it with the necessary means of
subsistence.
“There is room for all the Christians in the ship to stow themselves in
this pinnace,” resumed Nighthead; “and as for those that place their
dependance on any particular persons, why, let them call for aid where
they have been used to receive it.”
“From all which I am to infer that it is your intention,” said Wilder,
calmly, “to abandon the wreck and your duty?”
The half-awed but still resentful mate returned a look in which fear
and triumph struggled for the mastery, as he answered,—
“You, who know how to sail a ship without a crew, can never want a
boat! Besides, you shall never say to your friends, whoever they may
be, that we leave you without the means of reaching the land, if you
are indeed a land-bird at all. There is the launch.”
“There is the launch! but well do you know, that, without masts, all
your united strengths could not lift it from the deck; else would it
not be left.”
“They that took the masts out of the ‘Caroline’ can put them in again,”
rejoined a grinning seaman; “it will not be an hour after we leave you,
before a sheer-hulk will come alongside, to step the spars again, and
then you may go cruise in company.”
Wilder appeared to be superior to any reply. He began to pace the deck,
thoughtful, it is true, but still composed, and entirely
self-possessed. In the mean time, as a common desire to quit the wreck
as soon as possible actuated all the men, their preparations advanced
with incredible activity. The wondering and alarmed females had hardly
time to think clearly on the extraordinary situation in which they
found themselves, before they saw the form of the helpless Master borne
past them to the boat; and, in another minute, they were summoned to
take their places at his side.
Thus imperiously called upon to act, they began to feel the necessity
of decision. Remonstrances, they feared, would be useless; for the
fierce and malignant looks which were cast, from time to time, at
Wilder, as the labour proceeded, proclaimed the danger of awakening
such obstinate and ignorant minds into renewed acts of violence. The
governess bethought her of an appeal to the wounded man, but the look
of wild care which he had cast about him, on being lifted to the deck,
and the expression of bodily and mental pain that gleamed across his
rugged features, as he buried them in the blankets by which he was
enveloped, but too plainly announced that little assistance was, in his
present condition, to be expected from him.
“What remains for us to do?” she at length demanded of the seemingly
insensible object of her concern.
“I would I knew!” he answered quickly, casting a keen but hurried
glance around the whole horizon. “It is not improbable that they should
reach the shore. Four-and-twenty hours of calm will assure it.”
“And if otherwise?”
“A blow at north-west, or from any quarter off the land, will prove
their ruin.”
“But the ship?”
“If deserted, she must sink.”
“Then will I speak in your favour to these hearts of flint! I know not
why I feel such interest in your welfare, inexplicable young man, but
much would I suffer rather than believe that you incurred this peril.”
“Stop, dearest Madam,” said Wilder, respectfully arresting her movement
with his hand. “I cannot leave the vessel.”
“We know not yet. The most stubborn natures may be subdued; even
ignorance can be made to open its ears at the voice of entreaty. I may
prevail.”
“There is one temper to be quelled—one reason to convince—one prejudice
to conquer, over which you have no power.”
“Whose is that?”
“My own.”
“What mean you, sir? Surely you are not weak enough to suffer
resentment against such beings to goad you to an act of madness?”
“Do I seem mad?” demanded Wilder. “The feeling by which I am governed
may be false, but, such as it is, it is grafted on my habits, my
opinions; I will say, my principles. Honour forbids me to quit a ship
that I command, while a plank of her is afloat.”
“Of what use can a single arm prove at such a crisis?”.
“None,” he answered, with a melancholy smile. “I must die, in order
that others, who may be serviceable hereafter, should do their duty.”
Both Mrs Wyllys and Gertrude stood regarding his kindling eye, but
otherwise placid countenance, with looks whose concern amounted to
horror. The former read, in the very composure of his mien, the
unalterable character of his resolution; and the latter shuddering as
the prospect of the cruel fate which awaited him crowded on her mind,
felt a glow about her own youthful heart that almost tempted her to
believe his self-devotion commendable. But the governess saw new
reasons for apprehension in the determination of Wilder. If she had
hitherto felt reluctance to trust herself and her ward with a band such
as that which now possessed the sole authority, it was more than doubly
increased by the rude and noisy summons she received to hasten and take
her place among them.
“Would to Heaven I knew in what manner to choose!” she exclaimed.
“Speak to us, young man, as you would counsel mother and sister.”
“Were I so fortunate as to possess relatives so near and dear,”
returned the other, with emphasis “nothing should separate us at a time
like this.”
“Is there hope for those who remain on the wreck?”
“But little.”
“And in the boat?”
It was near a minute before Wilder made any answer. He again turned his
look around the bright and broad horizon, and he appeared to study the
heavens, in the direction of the distant Continent, with infinite care.
No omen that could indicate the probable character of the weather
escaped his vigilance while his countenance reflected all the various
emotions by which he was governed, as he gazed.
“As I am a man, Madam,” he answered with fervour “and one who is bound
not only to counsel but to protect your sex, I distrust the time. I
think the chance of being seen by some passing sail equal to the
probability that those who adventure in the pinnace will ever reach the
land.”
“Then let us remain,” said Gertrude, the blood, for the first time
since her re-appearance on deck, rushing into her colourless cheeks,
until they appeared charged to fulness. “I like not the wretches who
would be our companions in that boat.”
“Away, away!” impatiently shouted Nighthead “Each minute of light is a
week of life to us all, and every moment of calm, a year. Away, away,
or we leave you!”
Mrs Wyllys answered not, but she stood the image of doubt and painful
indecision. Then the plash of oars was heard in the water, and at the
next moment the pinnace was seen gliding over the element, impelled by
the strong arms of six powerful rowers.
“Stay!” shrieked the governess, no longer undetermined; “receive my
child, though you abandon me!”
A wave of the hand, and an indistinct rumbling in the coarse tones of
the mate, were the only answers given to her appeal. A long, deep, and
breathing silence followed among the deserted. The grim countenances of
the seamen in the pinnace soon became confused and indistinct; and then
the boat itself began to lessen on the eye, until it seemed no more
than a dark and distant speck, rising and falling with the flow and
reflux of the blue waters. During all this time, not even a whispered
word was spoken. Each of the party gazed, until sight grew dim, at the
receding object; and it was only when his organs refused to convey the
tiny image to his brain, that Wilder himself shook off the impression
of the sort of trance into which he had fallen. His look became bent on
his companions, and he pressed his hand upon his forehead, as though
his brain were bewildered by the deep responsibility he had assumed in
advising them to remain. But the sickening apprehension quickly passed
away, leaving in its place a firmer mind, and a resolution too often
tried in scenes of doubtful issue, to be long or easily shaken from its
calmness and self-possession.
“They are gone!” he exclaimed, breathing long and heavily, like one
whose respiration had been unnaturally suspended.
“They are gone!” echoed the governess, turning an eye, that was
contracting with the intensity or her care, on the marble-like and
motionless form of her pupil “There is no longer any hope.”
The look that Wilder bestowed, on the same silent out lovely statue,
was scarcely less expressive than “he gaze of her who had nurtured the
infancy of the Southern Heiress, in innocence and love. His brow grew
thoughtful, and his lips became compressed, while all the resources of
his fertile imagination and long experience gathered in his mind, in
engrossing intense reflection.
“Is there hope?” demanded the governess, who was watching the change of
his working countenance, with an attention that never swerved.
The gloom passed away from his swarthy features, and the smile that
lighted them was like the radiance of the sun, as it breaks through the
blackest vapours of the drifting gust.
“There is!” he said with firmness; “our case is far from desperate.”
“Then, may He who rules the ocean and the land receive the praise!”
cried the grateful governess giving vent to her long-suppressed agony
in a flood of tears.
Gertrude cast herself upon the neck of Mrs Wyllys, and for a minute
their unrestrained emotions were mingled.
“And now, my dearest Madam,” said Gertrude, leaving the arms of her
governess, “let us trust to the skill of Mr Wilder; he has foreseen and
foretold this danger; equally well may he predict our safety.”
“Foreseen and foretold!” returned the other, in a manner to show that
her faith in the professional prescience of the stranger was not
altogether so unbounded as that of her more youthful and ardent
companion. “No mortal could have foreseen this awful calamity; and
least of all, foreseeing it, would he have sought to incur its danger!
Mr Wilder, I will not annoy you with requests for explanations that
might now be useless, but you will not refuse to communicate your
grounds of hope.”
Wilder hastened to relieve a curiosity that he well knew must be as
painful as it was natural. The mutineers had left the largest, and much
the safest, of the two boats belonging to the wreck, from a desire to
improve the calm, well knowing that hours of severe labour would be
necessary to launch it, from the place it occupied between the stumps
of the two principal masts, into the ocean. This operation, which might
have been executed in a few minutes with the ordinary purchases of the
ship, would have required all their strength united, and that, too, to
be exercised with a discretion and care that would have consumed too
many of those moments which they rightly deemed to be so precious at
that wild and unstable season of the year. Into this little ark Wilder
proposed to convey such articles of comfort and necessity as he might
hastily collect from the abandoned vessel; and then, entering it with
his companions, to await the critical instant when the wreck should
sink from beneath them.
“Call you this hope?” exclaimed Mrs Wyllys, when his short explanation
was ended, her cheek again blanching with disappointment. “I have heard
that the gulf, which foundering vessels leave, swallows all lesser
objects that are floating nigh!”
“It sometimes happens. For worlds I would not deceive you; and I now
say that I think our chance for escape equal to that of being ingulfed
with the vessel.”
“This is terrible!” murmured the governess, “but the will of Heaven be
done! Cannot ingenuity supply the place of strength, and the boat be
cast from the decks before the fatal moment arrives?”
Wilder shook his head in an unequivocal negative.
“We are not so weak as you may think us,” said Gertrude. “Give a
direction to our efforts, and let us see what may yet be done. Here is
Cassandra,” she added—turning to the black girl already introduced to
the reader, who stood behind her young and ardent mistress, with the
mantle and shawls of the latter thrown over her arm, as if about to
attend her on an excursion for the morning—“here is Cassandra who alone
has nearly the strength of a man.”
“Had she the strength of twenty, I should despair of launching the boat
without the aid of machinery But we lose time in words; I will go
below, in order to judge of the probable duration of our doubt and then
to our preparations. Even you, fair and fragile as you seem, lovely
being, may aid in the latter.”
He then pointed out such lighter objects as would be necessary to their
comfort, should they be so fortunate as to get clear of the wreck, and
advised their being put into the boat without delay. While the three
females were thus usefully employed, he descended into the hold of the
ship, in order to note the increase of the water, and make his
calculations on the time that would elapse before the sinking fabric
must entirely disappear. The fact proved their case to be more alarming
than even Wilder had been led to expect. Stripped of her masts, the
vessel had laboured so heavily as to open many of her seams; and, as
the upper works began to settle beneath the level of the ocean, the
influx of the element was increasing with frightful rapidity. As the
young manner gazed about him with an understanding eye, he cursed, in
the bitterness of his heart, the ignorance and superstition that had
caused the desertion of the remainder of the crew. There existed, in
reality, no evil that exertion and skill could not have remedied; but,
deprived of all aid, he at once saw the folly of even attempting to
procrastinate a catastrophe that was now unavoidable. Returning with a
heavy heart to the deck, he immediately set about those dispositions
which were necessary to afford them the smallest chance of escape.
While his companions deadened the sense of apprehension by their light
but equally necessary employment Wilder stepped the two masts of the
boat, and properly disposed of the sails, and those other implements
that might be useful in the event of success Thus occupied, a couple of
hours flew by, as though minutes were compressed into moments. At the
expiration of that period, his labour had ceased. He then cut the
gripes that had kept the launch in its place when the ship was in
motion, leaving it standing upright on its wooden beds, but in no other
manner connected with the hull, which, by this time, had settled so low
as to create the apprehension, that, at any moment, it might sink from
beneath them. After this measure of precaution was taken, the females
were summoned to the boat, lest the crisis might be nearer than he
supposed; for he well knew that a foundering ship was, like a tottering
wall, liable at any moment to yield to the impulse of the downward
pressure. He then commenced the scarcely less necessary operation of
selection among the chaos of articles with which the ill-directed zeal
of his companions had so cumbered the boat, that there was hardly room
left in which they might dispose of their more precious persons.
Notwithstanding the often repeated and vociferous remonstrances of the
negress, boxes, trunks, and packages flew from either side of the
launch, as though Wilder had no consideration for the comfort and care
of that fair being in whose behalf Cassandra, unheeded, like her
ancient namesake of Troy, lifted her voice so often in the tones of
remonstrance. The boat was soon cleared of what, under their
circumstances, was literally lumber; leaving, however, far more than
enough to meet all their wants, and not a few of their comforts, in the
event that the elements should accord the permission to use them.
Then, and not till then, did Wilder relax in his exertions. He had
arranged his sails, ready to be hoisted in an instant; he had carefully
examined that no straggling rope connected the boat to the wreck, to
draw them under with the foundering mass; and he had assured himself
that food, water, compass, and the imperfect instruments that were then
in use to ascertain the position of a ship, were all carefully disposed
of in their several places, and ready to his hand. When all was in this
state of preparation, he disposed of himself in the stern of the boat,
and endeavoured, by the composure of his manner, to inspire his less
resolute companions with a portion of his own firmness.
The bright sun-shine was sleeping in a thousand places on every side of
the silent and deserted wreck. The sea had subsided to such a state of
utter rest, that it was only at long intervals that the huge and
helpless mass on which the ark of the expectants lay was lifted from
its dull quietude, to roll heavily, for a moment, in the washing
waters, and then to settle lower into the greedy and absorbing element.
Still the disappearance of the hull was slow, and even tedious, to
those who looked forward with such impatience to its total immersion,
as to the crisis of their own fortunes.
During these hours of weary and awful suspense, the discourse, between
the watchers, though conducted in tones of confidence, and often of
tenderness, was broken by long intervals of deep and musing silence.
Each forbore to dwell upon the danger of their situation, in
consideration of the feelings of the rest; but neither could conceal
the imminent risk they ran, from that jealous watchfulness of love of
life which was common to them all. In this manner, minutes, hours, and
the day itself, rolled by, and the darkness was seen stealing along the
deep, gradually narrowing the boundary of their view towards the east,
until the whole of the empty scene was limited to a little dusky circle
around the spot on which they lay. To this change succeeded another
fearful hour, during which it appeared that death was about to visit
them, environed by its most revolting horrors. The heavy plunge of the
wallowing whale, as he cast his huge form upon the surface of the sea,
was heard, accompanied by the mimic blowings of a hundred imitators,
that followed in the train of the monarch of the ocean. It appeared to
the alarmed and feverish imagination of Gertrude, that the brine was
giving up all its monsters; and, notwithstanding the calm assurances of
Wilder, that these accustomed sounds were rather the harbingers of
peace than signs of any new danger, they filled her mind with images of
the secret recesses over which they seemed suspended by a thread, and
painted them replete with the disgusting inhabitants of the caverns of
the great deep. The intelligent seaman himself was startled, when he
saw, on the surface of the water, the dark fins of the voracious shark
stealing around the wreck, apprised, by his instinct, that the contents
of the devoted vessel were shortly to become the prey of his tribe.
Then came the moon, with its mild and deceptive light, to throw the
delusion of its glow on the varying but ever frightful scene.
“See,” said Wilder, as the luminary lifted its pale and melancholy orb
out of the bed of the ocean; “we shall have light for our hazardous
launch!”
“Is it at hand?” demanded Mrs Wyllys, with all the resolution of manner
she could assume in so trying a situation.
“It is—the ship has already brought her scuppers to the water.
Sometimes a vessel will float until saturated with the brine. If ours
sink at all, it will be soon.”
“If at all! Is there then hope that she can float?”
“None!” said Wilder, pausing to listen to the hollow and threatening
sounds which issued from the depths of the vessel, as the water broke
through her divisions, in passing from side to side, and which sounded
like the groaning of some heavy monster in the last agony of nature.
“None; she is already losing her level!”
His companions saw the change; but, not for the empire of the world,
could either of them have uttered a syllable. Another low, threatening,
rumbling sound was heard, and then the pent air beneath blew up the
forward part of the deck, with an explosion like that of a gun.
“Now grasp the ropes I have given you!” cried Wilder, breathless with
his eagerness to speak.
His words were smothered by the rushing and gurgling of waters. The
vessel made a plunge like a dying whale; and, raising its stern high
into the air, glided into the depths of the sea, like the leviathan
seeking his secret places. The motionless boat was lifted with the
ship, until it stood in an attitude fearfully approaching to the
perpendicular. As the wreck descended, the bows of the launch met the
element, burying themselves nearly to filling; but, buoyant and light,
it rose again, and, struck powerfully on the stern by the settling
mass, the little ark shot ahead, as though it had been driven by the
hand of man. Still, as the water rushed into the vortex, every thing
within its influence yielded to the suction; and, at the next instant,
the launch was seen darting down the declivity, as if eager to follow
the vast machine, of which it had so long formed a dependant, through
the same gaping whirlpool, to the bottom. Then it rose, rocking, to the
surface; and, for a moment, was tossed and whirled like a bubble
circling in the eddies of a pool. After which, the ocean moaned, and
slept again; the moon-beams playing across its treacherous bosom,
sweetly and calm, as the rays are seen to quiver on a lake that is
embedded in sheltering mountains.