“I left off at that flattering portion of my history where I became a
horse-dealer; in this capacity I travelled over a considerable portion
of Ireland, now larking it in the West--jollifying in the South--and
occasionally suffering a penance for both enjoyments, by a stray trip to
Ulster. In these rambles I contrived to make acquaintance with most of
the resident gentry, who, by the special freemasonry that attends my
calling, scrupled not to treat me on terms of half equality, and even
invite me to their houses--a piece of condescension on their part, which
they well knew was paid for, in more solid advantages.
“In a word, Mr. O’Leary, I became a kind of moral amphibia, with powers
to sustain life in two distinct and opposite elements--now brushing my
way among frieze-coated farmers, trainers, dealers, sharpers, and
stablemen; now floating on the surface of a politer world, where the
topics of conversation took a different range, and were couched in a
very different vocabulary.
“My knowledge of French, and my acquaintance with Parisian life, at
least as seen in that class in which I used to mix, added to a kind of
natural tact, made me, as far as manners and ‘usage’ were concerned,
fully the equal of those with whom I associated; and I managed matters
so well, that the circumstance of my being seen in the morning with
cords and tops of jockey cut, showing off a ‘screw,’ or extolling the
symmetry of a spavined hackney, never interfered with the pretensions I
put forward at night, when, arranged in suit of accurate black, I turned
over the last new opera, or delivered a very scientific criticism on the
new ‘ballet’ in London, or the latest fashion imported from the
Continent.
“Were I to trace back this part of my career, I might perhaps amuse you
more by the incidents it contained, than by any other portion of my
life; nothing indeed is so suggestive of adventure, as that anomaly
which the French denominate so significantly--‘a false position,’ The
man who--come, come, don’t be afraid, though that sounds very like
Joseph Surface, I’m not going to moralize--the man, I say, who
endeavours to sustain two distinct lines in life, is very likely to fail
in both, and so I felt it, for while my advantages all inclined to one
side, my taste and predilections leaned to the other; I could never
adopt knavery as a profession--as an amateur I gloried in it: roguery,
without risk, was a poor pettifogging policy that I spurned; but a
practical joke that involved life or limb, a hearty laugh, or a heavy
reckoning, was a temptation I never could resist. The more I mixed in
society, the greater my intimacy with persons of education and
refinement, the stronger became my repugnance to my actual condition,
and the line of life I had adopted. While my position in society was
apparently more fixed, I became in reality more nervously anxious for
its stability. The fascinations which in the better walks of life are
thrown around the man of humble condition, but high aspirings, are
strong and sore temptations, while he measures and finds himself not
inferior to others, to whom the race is open, and the course is free,
and yet feels in his own heart, that there is a bar upon his escutcheon
which excludes him from the lists. I began now to experience this in all
its poignancy. Among the acquaintances I had formed, one of my most
intimate was a young baronet, who had just succeeded to a large estate
in the county Kilkenny. Sir Harvey Blundell was an Anglo-Irishman in
more than one sense: from his English father he had inherited certain
staid and quiet notions of propriety, certain conventional ideas
regarding the observance of etiquette, which are less valued in Ireland;
while, from his mother, he succeeded to an appreciation of native fun
and drollery, of all the whims and oddities of Irish life, which,
strange enough, are as well understood by the Anglo-Irishman, as by one
‘to the manner born.’
“I met Sir Harvey at a supper party in College. Some song I had sung of
my own composing, or some story of my inventing, I forget which, tickled
his fancy: he begged to be introduced to me, drew his chair over to my
side of the table, and ended by giving an invitation to his house for
the partridge-shooting, which was to begin in a few days; I readily
assented--it was a season in which I had nothing to do, my friend Dan
had gone over to the Highlands to make a purchase of some ponies; I was
rather flush of cash, and consequently in good spirits. It was arranged,
then, that I should drive him down in my drag, a turn-out with four
spanking greys, of whose match and colour, shape and action, I was not a
little vain.
“We posted to Carlow, to which place I had sent on my horses, and
arrived the same evening at Sir Harvey’s house, in time for dinner. This
was the first acquaintance I had made, independent of my profession. Sir
Harvey knew me, as Mr. O’Kelly whom he met at an old friend’s chambers
in College; and he introduced me thus to his company, adding to his
intimates in a whisper I could overhear--‘devilish fast fellow, up to
every thing--knows life at home, and abroad, and has such a team!’ Here
were requisites enough, in all conscience, to win favour among any set
of young country-gentlemen, and I soon found myself surrounded by a
circle, who listened to my opinions on every subject, and recorded my
judgments, with the most implicit faith in their wisdom, no matter on
what I talked, women, wine, the drama, play, sporting, debts, duns, or
duels, my word was law.
“Two circumstances considerably aided me in my present supremacy: first,
Sir Harvey’s friends were all young men from Oxford, who knew little of
the world, and less of that part of it called Ireland; and secondly,
they were all strangers to me, and consequently my liberty of speech was
untrammelled by any unpleasant reminiscences of dealing, in fairs or
auctions.
“The establishment was presided over by Sir Harvey’s sister, at least,
nominally so--her presence being a reason for having ladies at his
parties; and although she was only nineteen, she gave a tone and
character to the habits of the house, which, without her, it never could
have possessed. Miss Blundell was a very charming person, combining in
herself two qualities which, added to beauty, made a very irresistible
_ensemble_: she had the greatest flow of spirits, with a retiring and
almost timidly bashful disposition: courage for any thing, and a
delicacy that shrunk abashed from all that bordered on display, or bore
the slightest semblance of effrontery. I shall say no more, than that
before I was a week in the house, I was over head and ears in love with
her; my whole thoughts centred in her; my whole endeavour, to show
myself in such a light as might win her favour.
“Every accomplishment I possessed--every art and power of amusing, urged
to the utmost by the desire to succeed, I exerted in her service; and at
last perceived, that she was not indifferent to me. Then, and then for
the first time, came the thought--who was I, that dared to do this--what
had I of station, rank, or wealth, to entitle me to sue--perhaps to
gain, the affections, of one placed like her? The whole duplicity of my
conduct started up before me, and I saw for the first time, how the mere
ardour of pursuit had led me on and on--how the daring to surmount a
difficulty, had stirred my heart, at first to win, and then to worship
her: and the bitterness of my self-reproach at that moment became a
punishment, which, even now, I remember with a shudder. It is too true!
The great misfortunes of life form more endurable subjects for memory in
old age, than the instances, however trivial, where we have acted amiss,
and where conscience rebukes us. I have had my share of calamity, one
way or other--my life has been more than once in peril--and in such
peril as might well shake the nerve of the boldest: but I can think on
all these, and do think on them, often, without fear or heart-failing;
but never can I face the hours, when my own immediate self-love and
vanity brought their own penalty on me, without a sense of self-
abasement, as vivid as the moment I first experienced it. But I must
hasten over this. I had been now about six weeks in Sir Harvey’s house,
day after day determining on my departure, and invariably yielding when
the time came, to some new request to stay for something or other--now,
a day’s fishing on the Nore--now, another morning at the partridge--
then, there was--a boat-race, or a music-party, or a pic-nic, in fact
each day led on to another, and I found myself lingering on, unable to
tear myself from where, I felt, my remaining was ruin.
“At last I made up my mind, and determined, come what would, to take my
leave, never to return. I mentioned to Sir Harvey in the morning that
some matter of importance required my presence in town, and, by a half
promise to spend my Christmas with him, obtained his consent to my
departure.
“We were returning from an evening walk--Miss Blundell was leaning on my
arm--we were the last of the party who, by some chance or other, had
gone forward, leaving us to follow alone. For some time neither of us
spoke: what were her thoughts, I cannot guess: mine were, I acknowledge,
entirely fixed upon the hour I was to see her for the last time, while I
balanced whether I should speak of my approaching departure, or leave
her without even a ‘good-bye.’
“I did not know at the time so well as I now do, how much of the
interest I had excited in her heart depended on the mystery of my life.
The stray hints I now and then dropped--the stories into which I was
occasionally led--the wild scenes and wilder adventures, in which I bore
my part--had done more than stimulate her curiosity concerning me. This,
I repeat, I knew not at the the time, and the secret of my career
weighed like a crime upon my conscience. I hesitated long whether I
should not disclose every circumstance of my life, and, by the avowal of
my utter un-worthiness, repair, as far as might be, the injury I had
done her. Then came that fatal ‘_amour-propre_’ that involved me
originally in the pursuit, and I was silent. We had not been many
minutes thus, when a servant came from the house to inform Miss Blundell
that her cousin, Captain Douglas, had arrived. As she nodded her head in
reply, I perceived the colour mounted to her cheek, and an expression of
agitation passed over her features.
“‘Who is Captain Douglas?’ said I, without, however, venturing to look
more fully at her.
“‘Oh! a cousin, a second or third cousin, I believe; but a great friend
of Harvey’s.’
“‘And of his sister’s too, if I might presume so far?’
“‘Quite wrong for once,’ said she, with an effort to seem at ease: ‘he’s
not the least a favourite of mine, although----’
“‘_You_ are of his!’ I added quickly. ‘Well, well, I really beg pardon
for this boldness of mine.’ How I was about to continue, I know not,
when her brother’s voice, calling her aloud, broke off all further
conversation.
“‘Come, Fanny,’ said he, ‘here’s Harry Douglas, just come with all the
London gossip--he’s been to Windsor too, and has been dining with the
Prince. O’Kelly, you must know Douglas, you are just the men to suit
each other.--He’s got a heavy book on the Derby, and will be delighted
to have a chat with you about the turf.
“As I followed Miss Blundell into the drawing-room, my heart was heavy
and depressed.
“Few of the misfortunes in life come on us without foreboding. The
clouds that usher in the storm, cast their shadows on the earth before
they break; and so it is with our fate. A gloomy sense of coming evil,
presages the blow about to fall, and he who would not be stunned by the
stroke, must not neglect the warning.
“The room was full of people--the ordinary buzz and chit-chat of an
evening-party was going forward, and an hundred pleasant projects were
forming for the next day’s amusement, among which, I heard my name
bandied about, on every side.
“‘O’Kelly will arrange this,’ cried one--‘leave it all to O’Kelly--he
must decide it;’ and so on, when suddenly Blundell called out--
“‘O’Kelly, come up here,’ and then taking me by the arm, he led me to
the end of the room, where with his back turned towards us, a tall
fashionable-looking man was talking to his sister.
“‘Harry,’ cried the host, as he touched his elbow, ‘let me introduce a
very particular friend of mine--Mr. O’Kelly.’
“Captain Douglas wheeled sharply round, and, fixing on me a pair of dark
eyes, overshadowed with heavy beetling brows, looked at me sternly
without speaking. A cold thrill ran through me from head to foot as I
met his gaze; the last time we had seen each other was in a square of
the Royal Barracks, where _he_, was purchasing a remount for his troop,
and _I_, was the horse-dealer.
“‘_Your_ friend, Mr. O’Kelly!’ said he, as he fixed his glass in his
eye, and a most insulting curl, half smile, half sneer, played about his
mouth.
“‘How very absurd you are, Harry,’ said Miss Blundell, endeavouring by
an allusion to something they were speaking of, to relieve the excessive
awkwardness of the moment.
“‘Yes, to be sure, _my_ friend,’ chimed in Sir Harvey, ‘and a devilish
good fellow too, and the best judge of horse-flesh.’
“‘I havn’t a doubt of it,’ was the dry remark of the Captain; ‘but how
did he get here?’
“‘Sir,’ said I, in a voice scarce audible with passion, ‘whatever, or
whoever I am, by birth at least I am fully your equal.’
“‘D----n your pedigree,’ said he coolly.
“‘Why, Harry, interrupted Blundell: ‘what are you thinking of? Mr.
O’Kelly is----’
“‘A jockey--a horse-dealer, if you will, and the best hand at passing
off a screw, I’ve met for some time. I say, sir,’ continued he in a
louder tone, ‘that roan charger hasn’t answered his warranty--he stands
at Dycer’s for you.’
“Had a thunderbolt fallen in the midst of us, the consternation could
not have been greater--as for me, everything around bore a look of
mockery and scorn: derision and contempt sat on every feature, and a
wild uncertainty of purpose, like coming insanity, flitted through my
brain: what I said, or how I quitted the spot, I am unable to say; my
last remembrance of that accursed moment was the burst of horrid
laughter that filled my ears, as I rushed out. I almost think that I
hear it still, like the yell of the furies; its very cadence was
torture. I ran from the house--I crossed the fields without a thought of
whither I was going--escape, concealment, my only object. I sought to
hide myself for ever from the eyes of those who had looked upon me with
such withering contempt; and I would have been thankful to him who would
have given me refuge, beneath the dank grass of the churchyard.
“Never did a guilty man fly from the scene of his crime with more
precipitate haste, than did I from the spot which had witnessed my
shame, and degradation. At every step, I thought of the cruel speeches,
the harsh railings, and the bitter irony, of all, before whom, but one
hour ago, I stood chief and pre-eminent; and although I vowed to myself
never to meet any of them again, I could not pluck from my heart the
innate sense of my despicable condition, and how low I must now stand in
the estimation of the very lowest, I had so late looked down upon. And
here let me passingly remark, that while we often hold lightly the
praise of those, upon whose powers of judgment and reach of information
we place little value, by some strange contrariety we feel most bitterly
the censure of these very people, whenever any trivial circumstance, any
small or petty observance with which they are acquainted, gives them,
for the time, the power of an opinion. The mere fact of our contempt for
them adds a poignancy to their condemnation, and I question much if we
do not bear up better against the censure of the wise, than the scoff of
the ignorant.
“On I went, and on, never even turning my head; for though I had left
all the little wealth I possessed in the world, I would gladly have
given it, ten times told, to have blotted out even a particle of the
shame that rested on my character. Scarcely had I reached the high road,
when I heard the quick tramp of horses, and the rattle of wheels behind
me; and, so strong were the instincts of my fear, that I scarcely dared
to look back; at length I did so, and beheld the mail-coach coming
towards me at a rapid pace. As it neared, I hailed the coachman, and
without an inquiry as to where it was going, I sprung up to a place on
the roof, thankful that ere long I should leave miles between me, and my
torturers.
“The same evening we arrived in Cork; during the journey I made
acquaintance with a sergeant of a light dragoon regiment, who was
proceeding in charge of three recruits, to the depot at Cove. With the
quick eye of his calling, the fellow saw something in my dispirited
state that promised success to his wishes; and he immediately began the
thousand-times-told tale of the happiness of a soldier’s life. I stopped
him short at once, for my mind was already made up, and before the day
broke, I had enlisted in his Majesty’s Twelfth Light Dragoons, at that
time serving in America.
“If I have spared you the recital of many passages in my life, whose
painful memory would hurt me to call up, I shall also pass over this
portion of my career, which, though not marked by any distinct feature
of calamity, was, perhaps, the most painful I ever knew. He who thinks
that in joining the ranks or an army, his only trials will be the
severity of an unaccustomed discipline, and the common hardship of a
soldier’s life, takes but a very shallow view of what is before him.
Coarse and vulgar associates--depraved tastes and brutal habits--the
ribald jest of the barrack-room--the comrade spirit of a class, the very
lowest and meanest--these are the trials, the almost insupportable
trials, of him who has known better days.
“As hour by hour, he finds himself yielding to the gradual pressure of
his fate, and feels his mind assuming, one by one, the prejudices of
those about him, his self-esteem falls with his condition, and he sees
that the time is not distant, when all inequality between him and his
fellows shall cease, and every trait of his former self be washed away,
for ever.
“After four months of such endurance as I dare not even now suffer
myself to dwell upon, orders arrived at Cove for the recruits of the
different regiments at once to proceed to Chatham, whence they were to
be forwarded to their respective corps. I believe in my heart, had this
order not come, I should have deserted; so unendurable had my life
become. The thought of active service, the prospect of advancement,
however remote, cheered my spirits, and, for the first time since I
joined, my heart was light on the morning when the old ‘Northumberland’
transport anchored in the harbour, and the signal for embarking the
troops floated from the mast-head. A motley crew we were--frieze-coated,
red-coated, and no-coated; some, ruddy-cheeked farmer’s boys, sturdy
good-humoured fellows, with the bloom of country life upon their faces;
some, the pale, sickly, inhabitants of towns, whose sharpened features
and quick penetrating eyes, betokened how much their wits had
contributed to their maintenance. A few there were, like myself, drawn
from a better class, but already scarce distinguishable amid the herd.
We were nearly five hundred in number, one feature of equality pervading
all--none of us had any arms. Some instances of revolt and mutiny that
had occurred, a short time previous, on board troop-ships, had induced
the Horse Guards to adopt this resolution, and a general order was
issued, that the recruits should not receive arms before their arrival
at Chatham. At last we weighed anchor, and, with a light easy wind stood
out to sea; it was the first time I had been afloat for many a long day,
and as I leaned over the bulwark, and heard the light rustle of the
waves as they broke on the cut-water, and watched the white foam as it
rippled past, I thought on the old days of my smuggling life, when I
trod the plank of my little craft, with a step as light and a heart as
free, as ever did the proudest admiral on the poop-deck of his three-
decker; and as I remembered what I then had been, and thought of what I
now was, a growing melancholy settled on me, and I sat apart and spoke
to none.
“On the third night after we sailed, the breeze, which had set in at
sunset, increased considerably, and a heavy sea rolled in from the
westward. Now, although the weather was not such as to endanger the
safety of a good ship with an able crew, yet was it by no means a matter
of indifference in an old rotten craft like the ‘Northumberland,’
condemned half a dozen years before, and barely able to make her voyage
in light winds and fine weather. Our skipper knew this well, and I could
see by the agitation of his features, and the altered tones of his
voice, how little he liked the freshening gale, and the low moaning
sound that swept along the sea, and threatened a storm. The pumps had
been at work for some hours, and it was clear that the most we could do,
was to keep the water from gaining on us. A chance observation of mine
had attracted the skipper’s attention, and after a few minutes’
conversation he saw that I was a seaman, not only better informed, but
more habituated to danger than himself; he was, therefore, glad to take
counsel from me, and at my suggestion a spare sail was bent, and passed
under the ship’s bottom, which soon succeeded in arresting the progress
of the leak, and, at the same time, assisted the vessel’s sailing.
Meanwhile the storm was increasing, and it now blew what the sailors
call ‘great guns.’
“We were staggering along under light canvas, when the lookout-a-head
announced a light on the weather-bow; it was evidently coming towards
us, and scarce half a mile distant; we had no more than time to hang out
a lantern in the tops and put up the helm, when a large ship, whose
sides rose several feet above our own, swept by us, and so close, that
her yard-arms actually touched our rigging as she yawed over in the sea.
A muttered thanksgiving for our escape, for such it was, broke from
every lip; and hardly was it uttered, when again a voice cried out,
‘here she comes to leeward,’ and sure enough the dark shadow of the
large mass moving at a speed far greater than ours, passed under our
lee, while a harsh summons was shouted out to know who we were, and
whither bound. ‘The Northumberland,’ with troops, was the answer; and
before the words were well out, a banging noise was heard--the ports of
the stranger ship were flung open, a bright flash, like a line of flame,
ran her entire length, and a raking broadside was poured into us. The
old transport reeled over and trembled like a thing of life,--her
shattered sides and torn bulwarks let in the water as she heeled to the
shock, and for an instant, as she bent beneath the storm, I thought she
was settling, to go down by the head. I had little time, however, for
thought: one wild cheer broke from the attacking ship--its answer was
the faint, sad cry, of the wounded and dying on our deck. The next
moment the grapples were thrown into us, and the vessel was boarded from
stem to stern. The noise of the cannonade, and the voices on deck,
brought all our men from below, who came tumbling up the hatches,
believing we had struck.
“Then began a scene, such as all I have ever witnessed of carnage and
slaughter cannot equal. The Frenchmen, for such they were, rushed down
upon us as we stood defenceless, and unarmed; a deadly roll of musketry
swept our thick and trembling masses. The cutlass and the boarding-pike
made fearful havoc among us, and an unresisted slaughter tore along our
deck, till the heaps of dead and dying made the only barrier for the few
remaining.
“A chance word in French, and a sign of masonry, rescued me from the
fate of my comrades, and my only injury was a slight sabre-wound in the
fore-arm, which I received in warding off a cut intended for my head.
The carnage lasted scarce fifteen minutes; but in that time, of all the
crew that manned our craft--what between those who leaped overboard in
wild despair, and those who fell beneath fire and steel--scarce twenty
remained, appalled and trembling, the only ones rescued from this
horrible slaughter.
“A sudden cry of ‘she’s sinking!’ burst from the strange ship, and in a
moment the Frenchmen clambered up their bulwarks, the grapples were cast
off, the dark mass darted onwards on her course, and we, drifted away to
leeward--a moving sepulchre!
“As the clouds flew past, the moon shone out and threw a pale sickly
light on the scene of slaughter, where the dead and dying lay in
indiscriminate heaps together--so frightful a spectacle never did eye
rest upon! The few who, like myself, survived, stood trembling, half
stunned by the shock, not daring to assist the wretched men at they
writhed in agony before us. I was the first to recover from this stupor,
and turning to the others, I made signs to clear the decks of the dead
bodies--speak I could not. It was some time before they could be made to
understand me; unhappily, not a single sailor had escaped the carnage; a
few raw recruits were the only survivors of that dreadful night.
“After a little they rallied so far as to obey me, and I, taking the
wheel, assumed the command of the vessel, and endeavoured to steer a
course for any port on the west coast of England.
“Day broke at length, but a wide waste of waters lay around us: the wind
had abated considerably, but still the sea ran high; and although our
foresail and trysail remained bent, as before the attack, we laboured
heavily, and made little way through the water. Our decks were quite
covered with the dying, whose heart-rending cries, mingled with the
wilder shouts of madness, were too horrible to bear. But I cannot dwell
on such a picture. Of the little party who survived, scarcely three were
serviceable: some sat cold and speechless from terror, and seemed
insensible to every threat or entreaty; some sternly refused to obey my
orders, and prowled about between decks in search of spirits; and one,
maddened by the horrors he beheld, sprang with a scream into the sea,
and never was seen more.
“Towards evening we heard a hail, and on looking put saw a pilot-boat
making for us, and in a short time we were boarded by a pilot, who, with
some of his crew, took the vessel into their hands, and before sunset we
anchored in Milford.
“Immediately on landing, I was sent up to London under a strong escort,
to give an account of the whole affair to the Admiralty. For eight days
my examination was continued during several hours every day, and at last
I was dismissed, with promotion to the rank of sergeant, for my conduct
in saving the ship, and appointed to the fortieth foot, then under
orders for Quebec.
“Once more at sea and in good spirits, I sailed for Quebec on a fine
morning in April, on board the ‘Abercrombie.’ Nothing could be more
delightful than the voyage: the weather was clear, with a fair fresh
breeze and a smooth sea; and at the third week we dropped our lead on
the green bank of Newfoundland, and brought up again a cod fish, every
time we heaved it. We now entered the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and began
anxiously to look for land.
“On the third morning after we made the ‘Gulf,’ a heavy snow-storm came
on, which prevented our seeing a cable’s length ahead of us. It was so
cold too, that few remained on deck; for although the first of May, it
was about as severe a day as I remember. Anxious to see something of the
country, I remained with the lookout-a-head, straining my eyes to catch
a glimpse of the land through the dense snow-drift. All I could
distinguish, however, was the dim outline of distant mountains,
apparently covered with snow; but, as the day wore on, we came in sight
of the long low island of Anticosti, which, though considerably more
than a hundred miles in length, is not, in any part, more than fifteen
feet above the level of the water.
“Towards evening the land became much clearer to view; and now I could
perceive tall, peaked mountains some thousand feet in height, their
bases clad with stunted pine-trees--their white summits stretching away
into the clouds. As I looked, my astonishment was great, to find that
the vast gulf, which at day-break was some sixty miles in width, seemed
now diminished to about eight or ten, and continued to narrow rapidly,
as we proceeded on our course.
“The skipper, who had only made the voyage once before, seemed himself
confused, and endeavoured to explain our apparent vicinity to the land,
as some mere optical delusion--now, attributing it to something in the
refraction of the light; now, the snow: but although he spoke with all
the assurance of knowledge, it was evident to me, that he was by no
means satisfied in his own mind, of the facts he presented to ours.
“As the snow-storm abated, we could see that the mountains which lay on
either side of us, met each other in front, forming a vast amphitheatre
without any exit.
“This surely is not the Gulf of St. Lawrence?’ said I to an old sailor
who sat leisurely chewing tobacco with his back to the capstern.
“‘No, that it ain’t,’ said he coolly; ‘it’s Gaspé Bay, and I shouldn’t
wish to be in a worse place.’
“What could have brought us here then? the skipper surely doesn’t know
where we are?’
“I’ll tell you what has brought us here. There’s a current from the Gulf
stream sets in to this bay, at seven, or eight knots the hour, and
brings in all the floating ice along with it--There, am I right? do you
hear that?’
“As he spoke, a tremendous crash, almost as loud as thunder, was heard
at our bow; and as I rushed to the bulwark and looked over, I beheld
vast fragments of ice more than a foot thick, encrusted with frozen
snow, flying past us in circling eddies; while further on, the large
flakes were mounting, one above the other, clattering, and crashing, as
the waves broke among them. Heaven knows how much farther our mulish
Cumberland skipper would have pursued his voyage of discovery, had not
the soundings proclaimed but five fathom water. Our sails were now
backed; but as the current continued to bear us along, a boat was got
out, and an anchor put in readiness to warp us astern; but by an unhappy
accident the anchor slipped in lowering over the side, stove in the
boat, and of the four poor fellows who were under it, one was carried
under the ice, and never seen again. This was a sad beginning, and
matters now appeared each moment more threatening. As we still continued
to drift with the current, a bower-anchor was dropped where we were, and
the vessel afterwards swung round, head to wind, while the ice came
crashing upon the cut-water, and on the sides, with a noise that made
all else inaudible. It was found by this time that the water was
shoaling, and this gave new cause for fear; for if the ship were to
touch the ground; it was clear, all chance of saving her was at an end.
“After a number of different opinions given and canvassed, it was
determined that four men should be sent ashore in the yawl, to find out
some one who knew the pilotage of the bay; for we could descry several
log-huts along the shore, at short distances from each other. With my
officer’s permission, I obtained leave to make one of this party, and I
soon found myself tugging away at the bow-oar through a heavy surf,
whose difficulty was tenfold increased by the fragments of ice that
floated past. After rowing about an hour, the twilight began to fall,
and we could but faintly perceive the outline of the ship, while the
log-huts on shore seemed scarcely nearer than at the moment when we
quitted the vessel. By this time, large fields of ice were about us on
every side; rowing was no longer possible, and we groped along with our
boat-hooks, finding a channel, where we could avoid the floating masses.
“The peril of this proceeding grew with every moment; sometimes our
frail boat would be struck with such force as threatened to stave in
every plank; sometimes was she driven high upon a piece of ice, which
took all our efforts to extricate her from, while, as we advanced, no
passage presented itself before us, but flake upon flake of frozen
matter, among which were fragments of wrecks, and branches of trees,
mixed up together. The sailors, who had undertaken the enterprise
against their will, now resolved they would venture no further, but make
their way back to the ship while it was yet possible. I alone opposed
this plan--to return, without at least having reached the shore, I told
them, would be a disgrace, the safety of all on board was in a manner
committed to our efforts; and I endeavoured by every argument to induce
them to proceed. To no purpose did I tell them this; of no use was it
that I pointed out the lights on shore, which we could now see moving
from place to place, as though we had been perceived, and that some
preparations were making for our rescue. I was outvoted, however: back
they would go; and one of them as he pushed the boat’s head round,
jeeringly said to me--
“‘Why, with such jolly good foot-way, don’t you go yourself? you’ll have
all the honour, you know.’
“The taunt stung me to the quick, the more as it called forth a laugh
from the rest. I made no answer, but seizing a boat-hook, sprang over
the side upon a large mass of ice. The action drove the boat from me. I
heard them call to me to come back; but come what would, my mind was
made up. I never turned my head, but with my eyes fixed on the shore-
lights, I dashed on, glad to find that with every stroke of the sea the
ice was borne onwards towards the land. At length the sound of the
breakers ahead, made me fearful of venturing farther; for as the
darkness fell, I had to trust entirely to my hearing as my guide. I
stood then rooted to the spot, and as the wind whistled past, and the
snow-drift was borne in eddying currents by me, I drove my boat-hook
into the ice, and held on firmly by it. Suddenly, through the gloom a
bright flash flared out, and then I could see it flitting along, and at
last, I thought I could mark it, directing its course towards the ship;
I strained my eyes to their utmost, and in an ecstasy of joy I shouted
aloud, as I beheld a canoe manned by Indians, with a pine torch blazing
in the prow. The red light of the burning wood lit up their wild figures
as they came along--now carrying their light bark over the fields of
ice; now launching it into the boiling surf, and thus, alternately
walking, and sailing, they came at a speed almost inconceivable. They
soon heard my shouts, and directed their course to where I stood; but
the excitement of my danger, the dreadful alternations of hope and fear
thus suddenly ceasing, so stunned me that I could not speak, as they
took me in their arms and placed me in the bottom of the canoe. Of our
course back to shore I remember little: the intense cold, added to the
stupefaction of my mind, brought on a state resembling sleep; and even
when they lifted me on land, the drowsy lethargy clung to me; and only
when I found myself beside the blaze of a wood-fire, did my faculties
begin to revive, and, like a seal under the rays of the sun, did I warm
into life, once more. The first thing I did, when morning broke, was to
spring from my resting-place beside the fire, and rush out, to look for
the ship. The sun was shining brilliantly--the bay lay calm as a mirror
before me, reflecting the tall mountains and the taper pines: but the
ship was gone, not a sail appeared in sight; and I now learned, that
when the tide began to make, and she was enabled to float, a land breeze
sprung up which carried her gently out to sea, and that she was in all
likelihood, by that time, some thirty miles in her course up the St.
Lawrence. For a moment, my joy at the deliverance of my companions was
unchecked by any thought of my own desolate condition; the next minute,
I remembered myself, and sat down upon a stone, and gazed out upon the
wide waters with a sad and sinking heart.”