I AM SENT AWAY AFTER PRIZES AND MEET WITH A HURRICANE--AM DRIVEN ON
SHORE, WITH THE LOSS OF MORE THAN HALF MY MEN--WHERE IS THE
"RATTLESNAKE?"
In three weeks we were again ready for sea, and the admiral ordered us
to our old station off Martinique. We had cruised about a fortnight off
St. Pierre's, and, as I walked the deck at night, often did I look at
the sights in the town, and wonder whether any of them were in the
presence of Celeste, when, one evening, being about six miles off shore,
we observed two vessels rounding Negro Point, close in-shore. It was
quite calm, and the boats were towing ahead.
"It will be dark in half-an-hour, Peter," said O'Brien, "and I think we
might get them before they anchor, or if they do anchor, it will be well
outside. What do you think?"
I agreed with him, for in fact I always seemed to be happier when the
brig was close in-shore, as I felt as if I was nearer to Celeste; and
the further we were off, the more melancholy I became. Continually
thinking of her, and the sight of her after so many years' separation,
had changed my youthful attachment into strong affection. I may say
that I was deeply in love. The very idea of going into the harbour,
therefore, gave me pleasure, and there was no mad or foolish thing that
I would not have done, only to gaze upon the walls which contained the
constant objects of my thoughts. These were wild and visionary notions,
and with little chance of ever arriving at any successful issue; but at
one or two-and-twenty, we are fond of building castles, and very apt to
fall in love, without considering our prospect of success. I replied
that I thought it very possible, and wished he would permit me to make
the attempt, as, if I found there were much risk, I would return.
"I know that I can trust you, Peter," said O'Brien, "and it's a great
pleasure to know that you have an officer you can trust but hav'n't I
brought you up myself, and made a man of you, as I promised I would,
when you were a little spalpeen, with a sniffling nose, and legs in the
shape of two carrots? So hoist out the launch, and get the boats
ready--the sooner the better. What a hot day this has been--not a
cat's-paw on the water, and the sky all of a mist. Only look at the
sun, how he goes down, puffed out to three times his size, as if he were
in a terrible passion. I suspect we shall have the land breeze off
strong."
In half-an-hour I shoved off with the boats. It was now quite dark, and
I pulled towards the harbour of St. Pierre. The heat was excessive and
unaccountable; not the slightest breath of wind moved in the heavens, or
below; no clouds to be seen, and the stars were obscured by a sort of
mist; there appeared a total stagnation of the elements. The men in the
boats pulled off their jackets, for after a few moments' pulling, they
could bear them no longer. As we pulled in, the atmosphere became more
opaque, and the darkness more intense. We supposed ourselves to be at
the mouth of the harbour, but could see nothing--not three yards a-head
of the boat. Swinburne, who always went with me, was steering the boat,
and I observed to him the unusual appearance of the night.
"I've been watching it, sir," replied Swinburne, "and I tell you, Mr
Simple, that if we only know how to find the brig, that I would advise
you to get on board of her immediately. She'll want all her hands this
night, or I'm much mistaken."
"Why do you say so?" replied I.
"Because I think, nay, I may say that I'm sartin, we'll have a hurricane
afore morning. It's not the first time I've cruised in these latitudes.
I recollect in 1794--"
But I interrupted him: "Swinburne, I believe that you are right. At all
events I'll turn back; perhaps we may reach the brig before it comes on.
She carries a light, and we can find her out." I then turned the boat
round, and steered, as near as I could guess, for where the brig was
lying. But we had not pulled out more than two minutes, before a low
moaning was heard in the atmosphere--now here, now there--and we
appeared to be pulling though solid darkness, if I may use the
expression. Swinburne looked around him, and pointed out on the
starboard bow.
"It's a coming, Mr Simple, sure enough; many's the living being that
will not rise on its legs to-morrow. See, sir."
I looked, and dark as it was, it appeared as if a sort of black wall was
sweeping along the water right towards us. The moaning gradually
increased to a stunning roar, and then at once it broke upon us with a
noise to which no thunder can bear a comparison. The sea was perfectly
level, but boiling, and covered with a white foam, so that we appeared
in the night to be floating on milk. The oars were caught by the wind
with such force, that the men were dashed forward under the thwarts,
many of them severely hurt. Fortunately we pulled with tholes and pins,
or the gunwale and planks of the boats would have been wrenched off, and
we should have foundered. The wind soon caught the boat on her
broadside, and had there been the least sea, would have inevitably
thrown her over; but Swinburne put the helm down, and she fell off
before the hurricane, darting through the boiling water at the rate of
ten miles an hour. All hands were aghast; they had recovered their
seats, but were obliged to relinquish them, and sit down at the bottom,
holding on by the thwarts. The terrific roaring of the hurricane
prevented any communication, except by gesture. The other boats had
disappeared; lighter than ours, they had flown away faster before the
sweeping element; but we had not been a minute before the wind, before
the sea rose in a most unaccountable manner--it appeared to be by magic.
Of all the horrors that ever I witnessed, nothing could be compared to
the scene of this night. We could see nothing, and heard only the wind,
before which we were darting like an arrow--to where we knew not, unless
it was to certain death. Swinburne steered the boat, every now and then
looking back as the waves increased. In a few minutes we were in a
heavy swell, that at one minute bore us all aloft, and at the next
almost sheltered us from the hurricane: and now the atmosphere was
charged with showers of spray, the wind cutting off the summits of the
waves, as if with a knife, and carrying them along with it as it were in
its arms.
The boat was filling with water, and appeared to settle down fast. The
men baled with their hats in silence, when a large wave culminated over
the stern, filling us up to our thwarts. The next moment we all
received a shock so violent, that we were jerked from our seats.
Swinburne was thrown over my head. Every timber of the boat separated
at once, and she appeared to crumble from under us, leaving us floating
on the raging waters. We all struck out for our lives, but with little
hope of preserving them; but the next wave dashed us on the rocks,
against which the boat had already been hurled. That wave gave life to
some, and death to others. Me, in Heaven's mercy, it preserved: I was
thrown so high up, that I merely scraped against the top of the rock,
breaking two of my ribs. Swinburne, and eight more, escaped with me,
but not unhurt: two had their legs broken, three had broken arms, and
the others were more or less contused. Swinburne miraculously received
no injury. We had been eighteen in the boat, of which ten escaped: the
others were hurled up at our feet; and the next morning we found them
dreadfully mangled. One or two had their skulls literally shattered to
pieces against the rocks. I felt that I was saved, and was grateful:
but still the hurricane howled--still the waves were washing over us. I
crawled further up upon the beach, and found Swinburne sitting down with
his eyes directed seaward. He knew me, took my hand, squeezed it, and
then held it in his. For some moments we remained in this position,
when the waves, which every moment increased in volume, washed up to us,
and obliged us to crawl further up. I then looked around me; the
hurricane continued in its fury, but the atmosphere was not so dark. I
could trace, for some distance, the line of the harbour, from the ridge
of foam upon the shore; and for the first time I thought of O'Brien and
the brig. I put my mouth close to Swinburne's ear, and cried out,
"O'Brien!" Swinburne shook his head, and looked up again at the offing.
I thought whether there was any chance of the brig's escape. She was
certainly six, if not seven miles off, and the hurricane was not direct
on the shore. She might have a drift of ten miles, perhaps; but what
was that against such tremendous power? I prayed for those on board of
the brig, and returned thanks for my own preservation. I was, or soon
should be, a prisoner, no doubt; but what was that? I thought of
Celeste, and felt almost happy.
In about three hours the force of the wind subsided. It still blew a
heavy gale; but the sky cleared up, the stars again twinkled in the
heavens, and we could see to a considerable distance.
"It's breaking now, sir," said Swinburne at last, "satisfied with the
injury it has done--and that's no little. This is worst than '94."
"Now I'd give all my pay and prize-money, if it were only daylight and I
could know the fate of the poor _Rattlesnake_. What do you think,
Swinburne?"
"All depends upon whether they were taken unprepared, sir. Captain
O'Brien is as good a seaman as ever trod a plank; but he never has been
in a hurricane, and may not have known the signs and warnings which God
in His Mercy has vouchsafed unto us. Your flush vessels fill easily--
but we must hope for the best."
Most anxiously did we look out for the day which appeared to us as if it
never would break. At last the dawn appeared, and we stretched our eyes
to every part of the offing as it was lighted up; but we could not see
the brig. The sun rose, and all was bright and clear; but we looked not
around us, our eyes were directed to where we had left the brig. The
sea was still running high but the wind abated fast.
"Thank God!" ejaculated Swinburne, when he had directed his eyes along
the coast; "she is above water, at all events!"--and looking in the
direction where he pointed, I perceived the brig within two miles of the
shore, dismantled, and tossing in the waves.
"I see her," replied I, catching my breath with joy; "but--still--I
think she must go on shore."
"All depends upon whether she can get a little bit of sail up to weather
the point," replied Swinburne; "and depend upon it, Captain O'Brien
knows that as well as we do."
We were now joined by the other men who were saved. We all shook hands.
They pointed out to me the bodies of our shipmates who had perished. I
directed them to haul them further up, and put them altogether; and
continued, with Swinburne, to watch the brig. In about half-an-hour we
perceived a triangle raised; and in ten minutes afterwards, a jury-mast
abaft--a try-sail was hoisted and set. Then the shears were seen
forward, and in as short a time another try-sail and a storm jib were
expanded to the wind.
"That's all he can do now, Mr Simple," observed Swinburne; "he must
trust to them and to Providence. They are not more than a mile from the
beach--it will be touch and go."
Anxiously did we watch for more than half-an-hour; the other men
returned to us, and joined in our speculations. At one time we thought
it impossible--at another we were certain that she would weather the
point. At last, as she neared it, she forged a-head: my anxiety became
almost insupportable. I stood first on one leg, and then on the other,
breathless with suspense. She appeared to be on the point--actually
touching the rocks--"God! she's struck!" said I.
"No!" replied Swinburne;--and then we saw her pass on the other side of
the outermost rock, and disappear.
"Safe, Mr Simple!--weathered, by God!" cried Swinburne, waving his hat
with joy.
"God be thanked!" replied I, overcome with delight.