“Or feeling--, as the storm increases,
The love of terror nerve thy breast,
Didst venture to the coast:
To see the mighty war-ship leap
From wave to wave upon the deep,
Like chamois goat from steep to steep,
Till low in valley lost.”
ALLSTON.
Roger Talcott had not been idle during my absence. Clawbonny was so dear
to me, that I had staid longer than was proposed in the original plan;
and I now found the hatches on the Dawn, a crew shipped, and nothing
remaining but to clear out. I mean the literal thing, and not the slang
phrase, one of those of which so many have crept into the American
language, through the shop, and which even find their way into print;
such as “charter coaches,” “on a boat,” “on board a stage,” and other
similar elegancies. “_On_ a boat” always makes me--, even at my present
time of life. The Dawn was cleared the day I reached town.
Several of the crew of the Crisis had shipped with us anew, the poor
fellows having already made away with all their wages and prize-money,
in the short space of a month! This denoted the usual improvidence of
sailors, and was thought nothing out of the common way. The country
being at peace, a difficulty with Tripoli excepted, it was no longer
necessary for ships to go armed. The sudden excitement produced by the
brush with the French had already subsided, and the navy was reduced to
a few vessels that had been regularly built for the service; while the
lists of officers had been curtailed of two-thirds of their names.
We were no longer a warlike, but were fast getting to be a strictly
commercial, body of seamen. I had a single six-pounder, and half a
dozen muskets, in the Dawn, besides a pair or two of pistols, with just
ammunition enough to quell a mutiny, fire a few signal-guns, or to kill
a few ducks.
We sailed on the 3rd of July. I have elsewhere intimated that the
Manhattanese hold exaggerated notions of the comparative beauty of
the scenery of their port, sometimes presuming to compare it even with
Naples; to the bay of which it bears some such resemblance as a Dutch
canal bears to a river flowing through rich meadows, in the freedom and
grace of nature. Nevertheless, there _are_ times and seasons when the
bay of New York offers a landscape worthy of any pencil. It was at one
of these felicitous moments that the Dawn cast off from the wharf, and
commenced her voyage to Bordeaux. There was barely air enough from the
southward to enable us to handle the ship, and we profited by a morning
ebb to drop down to the Narrows, in the midst of a fleet of some forty
sail; most of the latter, however, being coasters. Still, we were a
dozen ships and brigs, bound to almost as many different countries. The
little air there was, seemed scarcely to touch the surface of the water;
and the broad expanse of bay was as placid as an inland lake, of a
summer's morning. Yes, yes--there are moments when the haven of New York
does present pictures on which the artist would seize with avidity; but,
the instant nature attempts any of her grander models, on this, a
spot that seems never to rise much above the level of commercial
excellencies, it is found that the accessaries are deficient in
sublimity, or even beauty.
I have never seen our home waters so lovely as on this morning. The
movements of the vessels gave just enough of life and variety to the
scene to destroy the appearance of sameness; while the craft were too
far from the land to prevent one of the most unpleasant effects of
the ordinary landscape scenery of the place--that produced by the
disproportion between the tallness of their spars, and the low character
of the adjacent shores. As we drew near the Narrows, the wind increased;
and forty sail, working through the pass in close conjunction,
terminated the piece with something like the effect produced by a
_finale_ in an overture. The brightness of the morning, the placid
charms of the scenery, and the propitious circumstances under which I
commenced the voyage, in a commercial point of view, had all contributed
to make me momentarily forget my private griefs, and to enter cheerfully
into the enjoyment of the hour.
I greatly disliked passengers. They appealed to me to lessen the dignity
of my position, and to reduce me to the level of an inn-keeper, or
one who received boarders. I wished to command a ship, not to take in
lodgers; persons whom you are bound to treat with a certain degree of
consideration, and, in one sense, as your superiors. Still, it had too
much of an appearance of surliness, and a want of hospitality, to refuse
a respectable man a passage across the ocean, when he might not get
another chance in a month, and that, too, when it was important to
himself to proceed immediately. In this particular instance, I became
the dupe of a mistaken kindness on the part of my former owners. These
gentlemen brought to me a Mr. Brigham--Wallace Mortimer Brigham was his
whole name, to be particular--as a person who was desirous of getting to
France with his wife and wife's sister, in order to proceed to Italy
for the health of the married lady, who was believed to be verging on
a decline. These people were from the eastward, and had fallen into
the old error of Americans, that the south of France and Italy had
residences far more favourable for such a disease, than our own country.
This was one of the provincial notions of the day, that were entailed on
us by means of colonial dependency. I suppose the colonial existence is
as necessary to a people, as childhood and adolescence are to the man;
but, as my Lady Mary Wortley Montagu told her friend, Lady Rich--“Nay;
but look you, my dear madam, I grant it a very fine thing to continue
always fifteen; _that_, everybody must approve of--it is quite fair:
but, indeed, indeed, one need not be five years old.”
I was prevailed on to take these passengers, and I got a specimen of
their characters even as we dropped down the bay, in the midst of the
agreeable scene to which I have just alluded. They were _gossips_; and
that, too, of the lowest, or personal cast. Nothing made them so happy
as to be talking of the private concerns of their fellow-creatures; and,
as ever must happen where this propensity exists, nine-tenths of what
they said rested on no better foundation than surmises, inferences drawn
from premises of questionable accuracy, and judgments that were entered
up without the authority, or even the inclination, to examine witnesses.
They had also a peculiarity that I have often remarked in persons of
the same propensity; most of their gossiping arose from a desire to
make apparent their own intimacy with the private affairs of people of
mark--overlooking the circumstance that, in thus making the concerns of
others the subjects of their own comments, they were impliedly admitting
a consciousness of their own inferiority; men seldom condescending thus
to busy themselves with the affairs of any but those of whom they
feel it to be a sort of distinction to converse. I am much afraid
good-breeding has more to do with the suppression of this vice, than
good principles, as the world goes. I have remarked that persons of a
high degree of self-respect, and a good tone of manners, are quite free
from this defect of character; while I regret to be compelled to say
that I have been acquainted with divers very saintly _professors_,
including one or two parsons, who have represented the very _beau ideal_
of scandal.
My passengers gave me a taste of their quality, as I have said, before
we had got a mile below Governor's Island. The ladies were named Sarah
and Jane; and, between them and Wallace Mortimer, what an insight did
I obtain into the private affairs of sundry personages of Salem, in
Massachusetts, together with certain glimpses in at Boston folk; all,
however, referring to qualities and facts that might be classed among
the real or supposed. I can, at this distant day, recall Scene 1st, Act
1st, of the drama that continued while we were crossing the ocean, with
the slight interruption of a few days, produced by sea-sickness.
“Wallace,” said Sarah, “did you say, yesterday, that John Viner had
refused to lend his daughter's husband twenty thousand dollars, to get
him out of his difficulties, and that he failed in consequence?”
“To be sure. It was the common talk through Wall Street yesterday, and
everybody believes it”--there was no more truth in the story, than in
one of the forty reports that have killed General Jackson so often, in
the last twenty years. “Yes, no one doubts it--but all the Viners are
just so! All of us, in our part of the world, know what to think of the
Viners.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” drawled Jane. “I've heard it said this John Viner's
father ran all the way from the Commons in Boston, to the foot of State
Street, to get rid of a dun against this very son, who had his own
misfortunes when he was young.”
“The story is quite likely true in part,” rejoined Wallace, “though it
can't be _quite_ accurate, as the old gentleman had but one leg, and
_running_ was altogether out of the question with _him_. It was probably
old Tim Viner, who ran like a deer when a young man, as I've heard
people say.”
“Well, then, I suppose he ran his horse,” added Jane, in the same quiet,
drawling tone. “_Something_ must have run, or they never would have got
up the story.”
I wondered if Miss Jane Hitchcox had ever taken the trouble to ascertain
who _they_ were! I happened to know both the Viners, and to be quite
certain there was not a word of truth in the report of the twenty
thousand dollars, having heard all the particulars of the late failure
from one of my former owners, who was an assignee, and a considerable
creditor. Under the circumstances, I thought I would hint as much.
“Are you quite sure that the failure of Viner & Co. was owing to the
circumstance you mention, Mr. Brigham?” I inquired.
“Pretty certain. I am '_measurably acquainted_' with their affairs, and
think I am tolerably safe in saying so.”
Now, “measurably acquainted” meant that he lived within twenty or thirty
miles of those who _did_ know something of the concerns of the house in
question, and was in the way of catching scraps of the gossip that fell
from disappointed creditors. How much of this is there in this good
country of ours! Men who live just near enough to one another to feel
the influence of all that rivalry, envy, personal strifes and personal
malignancies, can generate, fancy they are acquainted, from this
circumstance, with those to whom they have never even spoken. One-half
the idle tales that circulate up and-down the land, come from authority
not one tittle better than this. How much would men learn, could they
only acquire the healthful lesson of understanding that _nothing_,
which is much out of the ordinary way, and which, circulates as received
truths illustrative of character, is true in _all_ its material parts,
and very little in _any_. But, to return to my passengers, and that
portion of their conversation which most affected myself. They continued
commenting on persons and families by name, seemingly more to keep their
hands in, than for any other discoverable reason, as each appeared to
be perfectly conversant with all the gossip that was started; when
Sarah casually mentioned the name of Mrs. Bradfort, with some of whose
_supposed_ friends, it now came out, they had all a general visiting
acquaintance.
“Dr. Hosack is of opinion she cannot live long, I hear,” said Jane, with
a species of fierce delight in killing a fellow-creature, provided it
only led to a gossip concerning her private affairs. “Her case has been
decided to be a cancer, now, for more than a week, and she made her will
last Tuesday.”
“Only last Tuesday!” exclaimed Sarah, in surprise. “Well, I heard
she had made her will a twelvemonth since, and that she left all her
property to young Rupert Hardinge; in the expectation, some persons
thought, that he might marry her.”
“How could that be, my dear?” asked the husband; “in what would she be
better off for leaving her own property to her husband?”
“Why, by law, would she not? I don't exactly know how it would happen,
for I do not particularly understand these things; but it seems natural
that a woman would be a gainer if she made the man she was about to
marry her heir. She would have her thirds in his estate, would she not?”
“But, Mrs. Brigham,” said I, smiling, “is it quite certain Mrs. Bradfort
wishes to marry Rupert Hardinge, at all?”
“I know so little of the parties, that I cannot speak with certainty in
the matter, I admit, Captain Wallingford.”
“Well, but Sarah, dear,” interposed the more exacting Jane, “you are
making yourself unnecessarily ignorant. You very well know how intimate
we are with the Greenes, and they know the Winters perfectly well, who
are next-door neighbours to Mrs. Bradfort. I don't see how you can say
we haven't good means of being 'measurably' well-informed.”
Now, I happened to know through Grace and Lucy, that a disagreeable old
person, of the name of Greene did live next door to Mrs. Bradfort;
but, that the latter refused to visit her, firstly, because she did not
happen to like her, and secondly, because the two ladies belonged to
very different social circles; a sufficient excuse for not visiting
in town, even though the parties inhabited the same house. But, the
Brighams, being Salem people, did not understand that families might
reside next door to each other, in a large town, for a long series of
months, or even years, and not know each other's names. It would not be
easy to teach this truth, one of every-day occurrence, to the inhabitant
of one of our provincial towns, who was in the habit of fancying he had
as close an insight into the private affairs of all his neighbours, as
they enjoyed themselves.
“No doubt we are all as well off as most strangers in New York,”
observed the wife; “still, it ought to be admitted that we may
be mistaken. I have heard it said there is an old Mr. Hardinge, a
clergyman, who would make a far better match for the lady, than his son.
However, it is of no great moment, now; for, when our neighbour
Mrs. John Foote, saw Dr. Hosack about her own child, she got all the
particulars out of him about Mrs. Bradfort's case, from the highest
quarter, and I had it from Mrs. Foote, herself.”
“I could not have believed that a physician of Dr. Hosack's eminence
and character would speak openly of the diseases of his patients,” I
observed, a little tartly, I am afraid.
“Oh! he didn't,” said Sarah, eagerly--“he was as cunning as a fox,
Mrs. Foote owned herself, and played her off finely; but Mrs. Foote
was cunninger than any half-dozen foxes, and got it all out of him by
negations.”
“Negations!” I exclaimed, wondering what was meant by the term, though I
had understood I was to expect a little more philosophy and metaphysics,
not to say algebra, in my passengers, than usually accompanied
petticoats in our part of the world.
“Certainly, _negations_” answered the matron, with a smile as complacent
as that which usually denotes the consciousness of intellectual
superiority. “One who is a little practised, can ascertain a fact as
well by means of negatives as affirmatives. It only requires judgment
and use.”
“Then Mrs. Bradfort's disease is only ascertained by the negative
process?”
“So I suppose--but what does one want more,” put in the husband;--“and
that she made her will last week, I feel quite sure, as it was generally
spoken of among our friends.”
Here were people who had been in New York only a month, looking out for
a ship, mere passengers as it might be, who knew more about a family
with which I had myself such an intimate connection, than its own
members. I thought it no wonder that such a race was capable of
enlightening mankind, on matters and things in general. But the game did
not end here.
“I suppose Miss Lucy Hardinge will get something by Mrs. Bradfort's
death,” observed Miss Jane, “and that she and Mr. Andrew Drewett will
marry as soon as it shall become proper.”
Here was a speculation, for a man in my state of mind! The names were
all right; some of the incidents, even, were probable, if not correct;
yet, how could the facts be known to these comparative strangers?
Did the art of gossiping, with all its meannesses, lies, devices,
inventions, and cruelties, really possess so much advantage over the
intercourse of the confiding and honest, as to enable those who practise
it to discover facts hidden from eye-witnesses, and eye-witnesses, too,
that had every inducement of the strongest interest in the issue, not
to be deceived? I felt satisfied, the moment Mrs. Greene's name was
mentioned, that my passengers were not in the true New York set; and,
justly enough, inferred they were not very good authority for one
half they said; and, yet, how could they know anything of Drewett's
attachment to Lucy, unless their information were tolerably accurate?
I shall not attempt to repeat all that passed while the ship dropped
down the bay; but enough escaped the gossips to render me still more
unhappy than I had yet been, on the subject of Lucy. I could and did
despise these people; that was easy enough; but it was not so easy
to forget all that they said and surmised. This is one of the causes
attendant on the habit of loose talking; one never knowing what
to credit, and what not. In spite of all my disgust, and a firm
determination not to contribute in any manner to the stock in trade
of these people, I found great difficulty in evading their endless
questions. How much they got out of me, by means of the process of
negations, I never knew; but they got no great matter through direct
affirmatives. Something, however, persons so indefatigable, to whom
gossiping was the great aim of life, must obtain, and they ascertained
that Mr. Hardinge was my guardian, that Rupert and I had passed our
boyhoods in each other's company, and that Lucy was even an inmate of my
own house the day we sailed. This little knowledge only excited a desire
for more, and, by the end of a week, I was obliged to submit to devices
and expedients to pump me, than which even the thumbscrew was scarcely
more efficient. I practised on the negative system, myself, with a
good deal of dexterity, however, and threw my inquisitors off, very
handsomely, more than once, until I discovered that Wallace Mortimer,
determined not to be baffled, actually opened communications with Neb,
in order to get a clearer insight into my private affairs. After this,
I presume my readers will not care to hear any more about these gentry,
whose only connection with my life grew out of the misgivings they
contributed largely to create in my mind, touching the state of Lucy's
affections. This much they did effect, and I was compelled to submit
to their power. We are all of us, more or less, the dupes of knaves and
fools.
All this, however, was the fruits of several weeks' intercourse, and
I have anticipated events a little, in order to make the statements in
connection. Meeting a breeze, as has been said already, the Dawn got
over the bar, about two o'clock, and stood off the land, on an easy
bowline, in company with the little fleet of square-rigged vessels that
went out at the same time. By sunset, Navesink again dipped, and I was
once more fairly at sea.
This was at the period when the commerce of America was at its height.
The spirit shown by the young Republic in the French affair had
commanded a little respect, though the supposed tendencies of the new
administration was causing anything but a cordial feeling towards the
country to exist in England. That powerful nation, however, had made a
hollow peace with France the previous March, and the highway of nations
was temporarily open to all ships alike; a state of things that
existed for some ten months after we sailed. Nothing to be apprehended,
consequently, lay before me, beyond the ordinary dangers of the ocean.
For these last, I was now prepared by the experience of several years
passed almost entirely on board ship, during which time I had encircled
the earth itself in my peregrinations.
Our run off the coast was favourable, and the sixth day out, we were
in the longitude of the tail of the Grand Bank. I was delighted with my
ship, which turned out to be even more than I had dared to hope for.
She behaved well under all circumstances, sailing even better than she
worked. The first ten days of our passage were prosperous, and we were
mid-ocean by the 10th of the month. During this time I had nothing to
annoy me but the ceaseless _cancans_ of my passengers. I had heard the
name of every individual of note in Salem; with certain passages in his
or her life, and began to fancy I had lived a twelvemonth in the place.
At length, I began to speculate on the reason why this morbid propensity
should exist so much stronger in that part of the world than in any
other I had visited. There was nothing new in the disposition of the
people of small places to gossip, and it was often done in large towns;
more especially those that did not possess the tone of a capital. Lady
Mary Wortley Montagu and Horace Walpole wrote gossip, but it was spiced
with wit, as is usual with the scandal of such places as London and
Paris; whereas this, to which I was doomed to listen, was nothing more
than downright impertinent, vulgar, meddling with the private affairs
of all those whom the gossips thought of sufficient importance to talk
about. At Clawbonny, we had our gossip too, but it was innocent, seldom
infringed much on the truth, and usually respected the right of every
person to possess certain secrets that might remain inviolate to the
world. No such rules prevailed with my passengers. Like a certain editor
of a newspaper of my acquaintance, who acts as if he fancied all things
in heaven and earth were created expressly to furnish materials
for “paragraphs,” they appeared to think that everybody of their
acquaintance existed for no other purpose than to furnish them food
for conversation. There must have been some unusual cause for so
much personal _espionnage_, and, at length, I came to the following
conclusion on the subject. I had heard that church government, among the
puritans, descended into all the details of life; that it was a part of
their religious duty to watch over each other, jog the memories of the
delinquents, and serve God by ferreting out vice. This is a terrible
inducement to fill the mind with the motes of a neighbourhood, and the
mind thus stowed, as we sailors say, will be certain to deliver cargo.
Then come the institutions, with their never-ending elections, and the
construction that has been put on the right of the elector to inquire
into all things; the whole consummated by the journals, who assume a
power to penetrate the closet, ay, even the heart,--and lay bare its
secrets. Is it any wonder, if we should become, in time, a nation of
mere gossips? As for my passengers, even Neb got to consider them as so
many nuisances.
From some cause or other, whether it was having these loose-tongued
people on board or not, is more than I can say, but certain it is, about
the time Salem was handsomely cleaned out, and a heavy inroad had been
made upon Boston, that the weather changed. It began to blow in gusts,
sometimes from one point of the compass, sometimes from another, until
the ship was brought to very short canvass, from a dread of being caught
unprepared. At length, these fantasies of the winds terminated in a
tremendous gale, such as I had seldom then witnessed; and such, indeed,
as I have seldom witnessed since. It is a great mistake to suppose that
the heaviest weather occurs in the autumnal, spring, or winter months.
Much the strongest blows I have ever known, have taken place in the
middle of the warm weather. This is the season of the hurricanes; and,
out of the tropics, I think it is also the season of _the_ gales. It
is true; these gales do not return annually, a long succession of years
frequently occurring without one; but, when they do come, they may be
expected, in our own seas, in July, August, or September.
The wind commenced at south-west, on this occasion, and it blew fresh
for several hours, sending us ahead on our course, at the rate of eleven
knots. As the sea got up, and sail was reduced, our speed was a little
diminished perhaps; but we must have made more than a hundred miles in
the first ten hours. The day was bright, cloudless, genial, and even
bland; there being nothing unpleasant in the feeling of the swift
currents of the air, that whirled past us. At sunset I did not quite
like the appearance of the horizon; and we let the ship wade through
it, under her three top-sails, single-reefed, her fore-course, and
fore-top-mast staysail. This was short canvass, for a vessel that had
the wind nearly over her taffrail. At nine o'clock, second reefs were
taken in, and at ten, the mizen-top-sail was furled. I then turned in,
deeming the ship quite snug, leaving orders with the mates to reduce the
sail, did they find the ship straining, or the spars in danger, and to
call me should anything serious occur. I was not called until daylight,
when Talcott laid his hand on my shoulder, and said, “You had better
turn out, Captain Wallingford; we have a peeler, and I want a little
advice.”
It was a peeler, indeed, when I reached the deck. The ship was under
a fore-course and a close-reefed main-top-sail, canvass that can be
carried a long time, while running off; but which, I at once saw, was
quite too much for us. An order was given immediately, to take in the
top-sail. Notwithstanding the diminutive surface that was exposed, the
surges given by this bit of canvass, as soon as the clews were eased off
sufficiently to allow the cloth to jerk, shook the vessel's hull. It was
a miracle that we saved the mast, or that we got the cloth rolled up
at all. At one time, I thought it would be necessary to cut it from
the yard. Fortunately the gale was steady, this day proving bright and
clear, like that which had preceded.
The men aloft made several attempts to hail the deck, but the wind blew
too heavily to suffer them to be heard. Talcott had gone on the yard
himself, and I saw him gesticulating, in a way to indicate there was
something ahead. The seas were running so high that it was not easy
to obtain much of a look at the horizon; but, by getting into the
mizen-rigging, I had a glimpse of a vessel's spars, to the eastward of
us, and directly on our course. It was a ship under bare poles,
running as nearly before us as she could, but making most fearful yaws;
sometimes sheering away off to starboard, in a way to threaten her with
broaching-to; then taking a yaw to port, in which I could see all three
of her masts, with their yards pointed nearly at us. I got but one
glimpse of her hull, as it rose on a sea, at the same instant with the
Dawn, and it actually appeared as if about to be blown away, though I
took the stranger to be a vessel at least as large as we were ourselves.
We were evidently approaching her fast, though both vessels were going
the same way.
The Dawn steered beautifully, one of the greatest virtues in a ship,
under the circumstances in which we were then placed. A single man was
all that we had at the wheel, and he controlled it with ease. I could
see it was very different with the ship ahead, and fancied they had made
a mistake on board her, by taking in all their canvass. Talcott and the
gang aloft, had not got out of the top, however, before we had a hint
that it would be well to imitate the stranger's prudence. Though our
vessel steered so much better than another, no ship can keep on a
direct line, while running before the wind, in a heavy sea. The waves
occasionally fly past a vessel, like the scud glancing through the
air; then, they seem to pause, altogether, as if to permit the ship to
overtake them. When a vessel is lifted aft by one of these torrents of
rushing waters, the helm loses a portion of its power; and the part
of the vast machine that first receives the impulse, seems intent on
exchanging places with the bows, vessels often driving sideways before
the surges, for spaces of time that are exceedingly embarrassing to
the mariner. This happens to the best-steering ships, and is always one
source of danger in very heavy weather, to those that are running off.
The merit of the Dawn was in coming under command again, quickly, and
in not losing so much of the influence of her helm, as is frequently the
case with wild-steering craft. I understand there is a sloop-of-war now
in the navy, that is difficult to get through a narrow passage, in a
blow, in consequence of her having this propensity to turn her head
first one way, then another, like a gay horse that breaks his bridle.
The hint given, just as Talcott was quitting the top, and to which there
has been allusion, was given under the impulsion of one of these
driving seas. The Dawn still carried her fore-topmast stay-sail, a small
triangular piece of stout canvass, and which was particularly useful,
as leading from the end of the bowsprit towards the head of the
fore-top-mast, in preventing her from broaching-to, or pressing up with
her bows so near the wind, as to produce the danger of seas breaking
over the mass of the hull, and sweeping the decks. The landsman will
understand this is the gravest of the dangers that occur at sea, in very
heavy weather. When the ship is thrown broadside to the sea, or comes
up so as to bring the wind abeam, or even forward of the beam, as in
lying-to, there is always risk from this source. Another clanger, which
is called pooping, is of a character that one who is ignorant of
the might of the ocean when aroused, would not be apt to foresee. It
proceeds from the impetuous velocity of the waves, which, rushing ahead
so much faster than the vessel that is even driving before the gale,
breaks against the quarter, or stern, and throws its masses of water
along the deck, in a line with its keel. I suppose the President steamer
to have been lost by the first of these two dangers, as will appear in
the following little theory.
There is no doubt that well-constructed steamers are safer craft, the
danger from fire excepted, than the ordinary ship, except in very heavy
weather. With an ordinary gale, they can contend with sufficient power;
but, it is an unfortunate consequence of their construction, that
exactly as the danger increases, their power of meeting it diminishes.
In a very heavy swell, one cannot venture to resort to a strong head of
steam, since one wheel may be nearly out of water, while the other is
submerged, and thus endanger the machinery. Now, the great length of
these vessels renders it difficult to keep them up to the wind, or head
to sea, the safest of all positions for a vessel in heavy weather, while
it exposes them to the additional risk of having the water break aboard
them near the waist, in running dead before it. In a word, I suppose a
steamer difficult to be kept out of the trough, in very heavy weather;
and no vessel can be safe in the trough of the seas, under such
circumstances; one of great length less so than others. This is
true, however, only in reference to those steamers which carry the
old-fashioned wheel; Erricson's screw, and Hunter's submerged wheels,
rendering steam-ships, in my poor judgment, the safest craft in the
world.
The Dawn was overtaken by the seas, from time to time; and, then, like
everything else that floats, she yawed, or rather, had her stern urged
impetuously round, as if it were in a hurry to get ahead of the bows.
On these occasions, the noise made by the fore-top-mast stay-sail, as
it collapsed and filled, resembled the report of a small gun. We had
similar reports from the fore-sail, which, for moments at a time, was
actually becalmed, as the ship settled into the trough; and then became
distended with a noise like that of the shaking of a thousand carpets,
all filled with Sancho Panzas, at the same instant. As yet, the cloth
and gear had stood these violent shocks admirably; but, just as
Talcott was leading his party down, the ship made one of her side-long
movements; the stay-sail filled with a tremendous report, and away it
flew to leeward, taken out--of the bolt-rope as if it had been cut by
shears, and then used by the furies of the tempest. Talcott smiled, as
he gazed at the driving canvass, which went a quarter of a mile before
it struck the water, whirling like a kite that has broken its string,
and then he shook his head. I disliked, too, the tremendous surges of
the fore-sail, when it occasionally collapsed and as suddenly filled,
menacing to start every bolt, and to part every rope connected with
block or spar.
“We must get in that fore-course, Mr. Talcott,” I said, “or we shall
lose something. I see the ship ahead is under bare-poles, and it were
better we were as snug. If I did not dislike losing such a wind, it
would be wiser to heave-to the ship; man the buntlines and clew-garnets,
at once, and wait for a favourable moment.”
We had held on to our canvass too long; the fault of youth. As I had
determined to shorten sail, however, we now set about it in earnest, and
with all the precautions exacted by the circumstances. Everybody that
could be mustered, was placed at the clew-lines and buntlines, with
strict orders to do his best at the proper moments. The first-mate went
to the tack, and the second to the sheet. I was to take in the sail
myself. I waited for a collapse; and then, while the ship was buried
between two mounds of water, when it was impossible to see a hundred
yards from her in any direction, and the canvass was actually dropping
against the mast I gave the usual orders. Every man hauled, as if for
life, and we had got the clews pretty well up, when the vessel came out
of the cavern into the tempest, receiving the whole power of the gale,
with a sudden surge, into the bellying canvass. Away went everything, as
if the gear were cobwebs. At the next instant, the sail was in ribands.
I was deeply mortified, as well as rendered uneasy, by this accident, as
the ship ahead unquestionably was in full view of all that happened.
It was soon apparent, however, that professional pride must give place
to concern for the safety of the vessel. The wind had been steadily
increasing in power, and had now reached a pass when it became necessary
to look things steadily in the face. The strips of canvass that remained
attached to the yard, with the blocks and gear attached, threshed about
in a way to threaten the lives of all that approached. This was only at
the intervals when the ship settled into the troughs; for, while under
the full influence of the gale, pennants never streamed more directly
from a mast, than did these heavy fragments from the fore-yard. It was
necessary to get rid of them; and Talcott had just volunteered to go
on the yard with this end, when Neb sprang into the rigging without an
order, and was soon beyond the reach of the voice. This daring black had
several narrow escapes, more especially from the fore-sheet blocks;
but he succeeded in cutting everything adrift, and in leaving nothing
attached to the spar, but the bolt-rope of the head of the sail. It is
true, little effected this object, when the knife could be applied, the
threads of the stout canvass snapping at the touch.
As soon as the ship was under bare poles, though at the sacrifice of two
of her sails, I had leisure to look out for the other vessel. There she
was, more than half a mile ahead of us, yawing wildly, and rolling her
lower yard-arm, to the water's edge. As we drew nearer, I got better
glimpses of this vessel, which was a ship, and as I fancied, an English
West Indiaman, deep-loaded with the produce of the islands. Deep-loaded
as I fancied, for it was only at instants that she could be seen at all,
under circumstances to judge of this fact; sometimes her hull appearing
to be nearly smothered in the brine, and then, again, her copper
glistening in the sun, resembling a light vessel, kept under the care of
some thrifty housewife.
The Dawn did not fly, now all her canvass was gone, as fast as she had
previously done. She went through the water at a greater rate than the
vessel ahead; but it required an hour longer to bring the two ships
within a cable's length of each other. Then, indeed, we got a near view
of the manner in which the elements can play with such a mass of wood
and iron as a ship, when in an angry mood. There were instants when I
fancied I could nearly see the keel of the stranger for half its length,
as he went foaming up on the crest of a wave, apparently ready to quit
the water altogether; then again, he would settle away into the blue
abyss, hiding everything beneath his tops. When both vessels sunk
together, no sign of our neighbour was visible, though so near. We came
up after one of these deep plunges into the valleys of the ocean, and,
to our alarm, saw the English ship yawing directly athwart our course,
and within fifty fathoms of us. This was about the distance at which
I intended to pass, little dreaming of finding the other ship so
completely in our way. The Englishman must have intended to come a
little nearer, and got one of those desperate sheers that so often ran
away with him. There he was, however; and a breathless minute followed,
when he was first seen. Two vehicles dashing along a highway, with
frightened and run-away teams, would not present a sight one-half as
terrific as that which lay directly before our eyes.
The Dawn was plunging onward with a momentum to dash in splinters, did
she strike any resisting object, and yawing herself sufficiently to
render the passage hazardous. But the stranger made the matter ten-fold
worse. When I first saw him, in this fearful proximity, his broadside
was nearly offered to the seas, and away he was flying, on the summit of
a mountain of foam, fairly crossing our fore-foot. At the next moment,
he fell off before the wind, again, and I could just see his tops
directly ahead. His sheer had been to-port, our intention having been to
pass him on his starboard side; but, perceiving him to steer so wild,
I thought it might be well to go in the other direction. Quick as the
words could be uttered, therefore, I called out to port the helm. This
was done, of course; and just as the Dawn felt the new influence, the
other vessel took the same sheer, and away we both went to starboard,
at precisely the same instant. I shouted to right our helm to “hard
a-starboard,” and it was well I did; a minute more would have brought us
down headlong on the Englishman. Even now we could only see his hull, at
instants; but the awful proximity of his spars denoted the full extent
of the danger. Luckily, we hit on opposite directions, or our common
destruction would have been certain. But, it was one thing, in that
cauldron of a sea, to determine on a course, and another to follow it.
As we rose on the last wave that alone separated us from the stranger,
he was nearly ahead; and as we glanced onward, I saw that we should
barely clear his larboard quarter. Our helm being already a starboard,
no more could be done. Should he take another sheer to port, we must
infallibly cut him in twain. As I have said, he had jammed his helm
to-port, and slowly, and with a species of reluctance, he inclined a
little aside. Then we came up, both ships rolling off, or our yards must
have interlocked, and passing his quarter with our bows, we each felt
the sheer at the same instant, and away we went asunder, the sterns of
the ships looking at each other, and certainly not a hundred feet apart.
A shout from Talcott drew me to our taffrail, and standing on that of
our neighbour, what or whom should I see waving his hat, but the red
countenance of honest Moses Marble!