“And she sits and gazes at me,
With those deep and tender eyes,...
Like the stars, so still and saint-like,
Looking downward from the skies.”
--LONGFELLOW
The next morning I set about the measures necessary for carrying out our
plan. Marble was invited to be of the party, the arrangements concerning
the ship, allowing of his absence for a few days; Once engaged, he was
of infinite service, entering into the plan as my mate. The regular
skipper was glad to have a furlough; and I retained on board no one of
the proper crew but the river-pilot; a man who could not be dispensed
with; By this arrangement, we cleared the cabin from company that was
not desirable for the circumstances. Neb, and three of the Clawbonny
blacks, were delighted to go on such an excursion, and all were more
or less familiar with the little duty that would be required of them.
Indeed, Marble, Neb and myself, were every way able to take care of the
vessel. But we chose to have plenty of physical force; and a cook was
indispensable. Clawbonny supplied the latter, in the person of old Dido
of that ilk.
By noon, the whole party were ready to embark. Grace was driven to the
wharf, and she walked on board the sloop, supported by Lucy and myself;
more, however, from solicitude than from absolute necessity. Every
precaution, however, was taken by order of the physician to prevent
anything like excitement; the blacks, in particular, who would have
followed “Miss Grace” to the water's edge, being ordered to remain at
home. Chloe, to her manifest satisfaction, was permitted to accompany
her “young mistress,” and great was her delight. How often that day,
did the exclamation of “de feller,” escape her, as she witnessed Neb's
exploits in different parts of the sloop. It was some little time before
I could account for the black's superfluous activity, imputing it to
zeal in my sister's service; but, in the end, I discovered Grace had to
share the glory with Chloe.
No sooner was everybody on board than we cast off. The jib was soon
up; and under this short sail, we moved slowly out of the creek, with a
pleasant southerly breeze. As we passed the point, there stood the
whole household arrayed in a line, from the tottering grey-headed
and muddy-looking negro of seventy, down to the glistening, jet-black
toddling things of two and three. The distance was so small, it was
easy to trace even the expressions of the different countenances, which
varied according to the experience, forebodings, and characters of
the different individuals. Notwithstanding the sort of reverential
attachment all felt for “Miss Grace,” and the uncertainty some among
these unsophisticated creatures must have experienced on the subject
of her health, it was not in nature for such a cluster of “niggers”
to exhibit unhappiness, at a moment when there were so many grounds of
excitement. The people of this race know nothing of the _word,_ perhaps;
but they delight in the _thing_, quite as much as if they did nothing
but electioneer all their lives. Most pliant instruments would their
untutored feelings make in the hands of your demagogue; and, possibly,
it may have some little influence on the white American to understand,
how strong is his resemblance to the “nigger,” when he gives himself up
to the mastery of this much approved mental power. The day was glorious;
a brighter sun never shining in Italy, or on the Grecian islands; the
air balmy; the vessel was gay to the eye, having been painted about
a month before, and every one seemed bent on a holiday; circumstances
sufficient in themselves, to make this light-hearted race smiling and
happy. As the sloop went slowly past, the whole line doffed their hats,
or curtsied, showing at the same time a row of ivory that shone like
so many gay windows in their sable faces. I could see that Grace was
touched by this manifestation of interest; such a field-day in the
Clawbonny corps not having occurred since the first time my mother went
to town, after the death of my father. Fortunately, everything else was
soothing to my sister's spirits; and, so long as she could sit on the
deck, holding Lucy's hand, and enjoy the changing landscape, with
her brother within call, it was not possible she should be altogether
without happiness.
Rounding the point, as we entered the river, the Wallingford eased-off
sheet, set a studding-sail and flying-top-sail, and began to breast the
Hudson, on her way towards its sources.
In 1803, the celebrated river we were navigating, though it had all the
natural features it possesses to-day, was by no means the same picture
of moving life. The steam-boat did not appear on its surface until four
years later; and the journeys up and down its waters, were frequently a
week in length. In that day, the passenger did not hurry on board, just
as a bell was disturbing the neighbourhood, hustling his way through a
rude throng of porters, cart-men, orange-women, and news-boys, to save
his distance by just a minute and a half, but his luggage was often sent
to the vessel the day before; he passed his morning in saying adieu,
and when he repaired to the vessel, it was with gentleman-like leisure,
often to pass hours on board previously to sailing, and not unfrequently
to hear the unwelcome tidings that this event was deferred until the
next day. How different, too, was the passage, from one in a steam-boat!
There was no jostling of each other, no scrambling for places at table,
no bolting of food, no impertinence manifested, no swearing about
missing the eastern or southern boats, or Schenectady, or Saratoga,
or Boston trains, on account of a screw being loose, nor--any other
unseemly manifestation that anybody was in a hurry. On the contrary,
wine and fruit were provided, as if the travellers intended to enjoy
themselves; and a journey in that day was a _festa_. No more embarked
than could be accommodated; and the company being selected, the cabin
was taken to the exclusion of all unwelcome intruders. Now, the man who
should order a bottle of wine to be placed at the side of his plate,
would be stared at as a fool; and not without reason altogether, for,
did it escape the claws of his _convives_ and the waiters, he would
probably reach the end of his journey before he could drink it. In
1803, not only did the dinner pass in peace, and with gentleman-like
deliberation; not only were the cooler and the fruit taken on deck,
and the one sipped and the other eaten at leisure, in the course of an
afternoon, but in the course of many afternoons. Passages were certainly
made in twenty-four hours in the sloops; but these were the exceptions,
a week being much more likely to be the time passed in the enjoyment of
the beautiful scenery of the river. The vessel usually got aground, once
at least, and frequently several times in a trip; and often a day, or
two, were thus delightfully lost, giving the stranger an opportunity
of visiting the surrounding country. The necessity of anchoring, with a
foul wind, on every opposing tide, too, increased these occasions, thus
lending to the excursion something of the character of an exploring
expedition. No--no--a man would learn more in one passage, up or down
the Hudson, forty years since, than can be obtained by a dozen at the
present time. I have a true seaman's dislike for a steam-boat, and
sometimes wish they were struck out of existence; though I know it is
contrary to all the principles of political economy, and opposed to what
is called the march of improvement. Of one thing, however, I feel quite
certain; that these inventions, coupled with the gregarious manner
of living that has sprung up in the large taverns, is, as one of our
writers expresses it, “doing _wonders_ for the manners of the people;”
though, in my view of the matter, the wonder is, that they have any
left.
There might have been thirty sail in sight, when the Wallingford got
fairly into the river, some turning down on a young ebb, making their
fifteen or twenty miles in six hours, and others like ourselves,
stealing along against it, at about the same rate. Half a dozen of these
craft were quite near us, and the decks of most of those which were
steering north, had parties including ladies, evidently proceeding to
the “Springs.” I desired Marble to sheer as close to these different
vessels as was convenient, having no other object in view than
amusement, and fancying it might aid in diverting the thoughts of my
sister from her own sorrows, to the faces and concerns of others. The
reader will have no difficulty in understanding, that the Wallingford,
constructed under the orders of an old sailor, and for his own uses, was
a fast vessel. In this particular she had but one or two competitors on
the river; packets belonging to Hudson, Poughkeepsie and Sing-Sing. She
was now only in fair ballast-trim, and being admirably provided
with sails, in the light wind we had, she actually went four feet to
most-of-the-other-vessels-in-sight's three. My request to Marble--or,
order, as he chose to call it--was easily enough complied with, and we
were soon coming up close on the quarter of a sloop that had its decks
crowded with passengers who evidently belonged to the better class;
while, on its forecastle were several horses, and a carriage; customary
accompaniments to such a scene in that day.
I had not been so happy in a long time, as I felt at that moment. Grace
was better, as I fancied at least, and it was certain she was more
composed and less nervous than I had seen her since my return; and this
of itself was removing the weight of a mountain from my heart. There was
Lucy, too, her rounded cheek rosy with the pleasure of the moment, full
of health, and with eyes that never turned on me that they did not
beam with confidence and kindness--the sincerest friendship, if not
love--while every look, movement, syllable or gesture that was directed
towards Grace, betrayed how strongly the hearts of these two precious
creatures were still knit together in sisterly affection. My guardian
too seemed happier than he had been since our conversation on the state
of my own feelings towards his daughter. He had made a condition, that
we should all--the doctor excepted--return to Clawbonny in time for
service on the ensuing Sunday, and he was then actually engaged in
looking over an old sermon for the occasion, though not a minute passed
in which he did not drop the manuscript to gaze about him, in deep
enjoyment of the landscape. The scene, moreover, was so full of repose,
that even the movements of the different vessels scarce changed its
Sabbath-like character. I repeat, that I had not felt so perfectly happy
since I held my last conversation with the Salem Witches, in The Duomo
of Firenze.
Marble was excessively delighted with the behaviour of the Wallingford.
The latter was a sloop somewhat smaller than common, though her
accommodations were particularly commodious, while she was sparred on
the scale of a flyer. Her greatest advantage in the way of sailing,
however, would have been no great recommendation to her on a wind; for
she was nearly start light, and might not have been able to carry full
sail in hard November weather, even on the Hudson--a river on which
serious accidents have been known to occur. There was little danger in
mid-summer, however; and we went gliding up on the quarter of the Gull
of Troy, without feeling concern of any sort.
“What sloop is that?” demanded the skipper of the Gull, as our boom-end
came within a fathom of his rail, our name being out of his view.
“The Wallingford of Clawbonny, just out of port, bound up on a party of
pleasure.”
Now, Clawbonny was not then, nor is it now, what might be called a legal
term. There was no such place known in law, beyond the right which usage
gives; and I heard a low laugh among the passengers of the Gull, as they
heard the homely appellation. This came from the equivocal position my
family occupied, midway between the gentry and yeomanry of the State,
as they both existed in 1803. Had I said the sloop came from near
Coldenham, it would have been all right; for everybody who was then
anybody in New York, knew who the Coldens were; or Morrisania, the
Morrises being people of mark; or twenty other places on the river: but
the Wallingfords were as little known as Clawbonny, when you got fifteen
or twenty miles from the spot where they had so long lived. This is just
the difference between obscurity and notoriety. When the latter extends
to an entire nation, it gives an individual, or a family, the note that
frees them entirely from the imputation of existing under the first
condition; and this note, favourably diffused through Christendom, forms
a reputation--transmitted to posterity, it becomes fame. Unfortunately,
neither we nor our place had even reached the first simple step in
this scale of renown; and poor Clawbonny was laughed at, on account of
something Dutch that was probably supposed to exist in the sound--the
Anglo-Saxon race having a singular aptitude to turn up their nose's at
everything but their own possessions, and everybody but themselves. I
looked at Lucy, with sensitive quickness, to see how she received this
sneer on my birth-place; but, with her, it was so much a matter of
course to think well of everything connected with the spot, its name as
well as its more essential things, that I do not believe she perceived
this little sign of derision.
While the passengers of the Gull felt this disposition to smile, it
was very different with her skipper; his Dutch pilot, whose name was
Abrahamus Van Valtenberg, but who was more familiarly known as 'Brom
Folleck, for so the children of New Netherlands twisted their cognomens
in converting them into English;{*] the black cook, the mulatto
steward, and the “all hands,” who were one man and a boy. There had been
generations of sloops which bore the name of Watlingford, as Well as
generations of men, at Clawbonny; and this every river-man knew. In
point of fact, we counted four generations of men, and six of sloops.
Now, none of these vessels was worthy of being mentioned, but this which
my father had caused to be built; but she had a reputation that extended
to everybody on the river. The effect of all this was to induce the
skipper of the Gull to raise his hat, and to say--
“That, then, I suppose is Mr. Wallingford himself--you are welcome back
on the river; I remember the time well, when your respected father would
make that boat do anything but talk. Nothing but the new paint, which
is different from the last, prevented me from knowing the sloop. Had I
taken a look at her bows, this couldn't have happened.”
{Footnote *: A story is told of a Scotchman of the name of
Farquharson,--who settled among the High Dutch on the Mohawk, sometime
previously to the Revolution; where, unable to pronounce his name, the
worthy formers called him Feuerstein (pronounced Firestyne). The son
lived and died under this appellation; but the grandson, removing to a
part of the country where English alone was spoken, chose to anglisise
his name; and, by giving it a free translation, became Mr. Flint!]
This speech evidently gave me and my vessel an estimation with the
passengers of the Gull that neither had enjoyed the moment before. There
was some private conversation on the quarter-deck of the other vessel,
and, then, a highly respectable and gentleman-like looking old man, came
to the rail, bowed, and commenced a discourse.
“I have the pleasure of seeing Captain Wallingford, I believe,” he
remarked, “with whom my friends, the Mertons, came passengers from
China. They have often expressed their sense of your civilities,” he
continued, as I bowed in acquiescence, “and declare they should ever
wish to sail with you, were they again compelled to go to sea.”
Now, this was viewing my relation to the Mertons in any point of view
but that in which I wished it to be viewed, or indeed was just. Still
it was natural; and the gentleman who spoke, a man of standing and
character, no doubt fancied he was, saying that which must prove
particularly acceptable to me; another proof how dangerous it is to
attempt to decide on other men's feelings or affairs. I could not
decline the discourse; and, while the Wallingford went slowly past
the Gull, I was compelled to endure the torment of hearing the Mertons
mentioned, again and again, in the hearing of Lucy and Grace; on the
nerves of the latter of whom I knew it must be a severe trial. At length
we got rid of this troublesome neighbour, though not until Lucy and her
father were recognised and spoken to by several of the ladies in the
other party. While my late guardian and his daughter were thus engaged,
I stole a glance at my sister. She was pale as death, and seemed anxious
to go below, whither I led her, most happily, I have every reason to
think, as things turned out.
When the Wallingford had left the Gull some little distance astern,
I returned to the deck, and Lucy went to take my place by the side of
Grace's berth. She reappeared, however; in a very few minutes, saying
that my sister felt an inclination to rest herself, and might fall
asleep. Feeble, almost, as an infant, these frequent slumbers had become
necessary, in a measure, to the patient's powers. Chloe coming up soon
after with a report that her young mistress seemed to be in a doze, we
all remained on deck, in order not to disturb her. In this manner, half
an hour passed, and we had drawn quite near to another sloop that was
going in the same direction with ourselves. At this moment, Mr. Hardinge
was deeply immersed in his sermon, and I perceived that Lucy looked at
him, from time to time, as if she expected to catch his eye. I fancied
something distressed her, and yet it was not easy to imagine exactly
what it could be.
“Do you not intend to go nearer the other sloop?” Lucy at length
inquired, alluding to the vessel that was almost in a line with us; but
to which I had ordered Neb to give a respectable berth.
“I thought the gossip of the last quite sufficient; but, if you like
these interviews, certainly.”
Lucy seemed embarrassed; she coloured to her temples, paused a moment,
and then added, affecting to laugh--and it was so seldom Lucy affected
anything, but this time she _did_ affect to laugh--as she said--
“I _do_ wish to go near that sloop; though it is not exactly for the
reason you suppose.”
I could see she was distressed, though it was not yet easy to imagine
the cause. Lucy's requests were laws to me, and Neb was ordered to sheer
down on the quarter of this second sloop, as we had done on that of
the first. As we drew near, her stern told us that she was called the
“Orpheus of Sing-Sing,” a combination of names that proved some wag had
been connected with the christening. Her decks had also a party of both
sexes on them, though neither carriage nor horses. All this time,
Lucy stood quite near me, as if reluctant to move, and when we were
sufficiently near the sloop, she pressed still nearer to my side, in the
way in which her sex are apt to appeal to those of the other who possess
their confidence, when most feeling the necessity of support.
“Now, Miles,” she said, in an under tone, “_you_ must 'speak that
sloop,' as you call it; I can never hold a loud conversation of this
sort, in the presence of so many strangers.”
“Very willingly, Lucy; though you will have the goodness to let me know
exactly what I am to say.”
“Certainly--begin then, in your sailor fashion, and when that is done, I
will tell you what to add.”
“Enough--Orpheus, there?” I called out, just raising my voice
sufficiently to be heard.
“Ay, ay,--what's wanted?” answered the skipper, taking a pipe from his
mouth, as he leaned with his back against his own tiller, in a way that
was just in accordance with the sleepy character of the scene.
I looked at Lucy, as much as to say, “what next?”
“Ask him if Mrs. Drewett is on board his sloop--_Mrs._ Andrew Drewett,
not _Mr._--The old lady, I mean,” added the dear girl, blushing to the
eyes.
I was so confounded--I might almost add appalled, that it was with great
difficulty I suppressed an exclamation. Command myself, I did, however,
and observing that the skipper was curiously awaiting my next question,
I put it.
“Is _Mrs_. Andrew Drewett among your passengers, sir?” I inquired with a
cold distinctness.
My neighbour nodded his head, and spoke to some of his passengers, most
of whom were on the main-deck, seated on chairs, and concealed from us,
as yet, by the Wallingford's main-sail, her boom being guyed out on the
side next the Orpheus, with its end just clear of her quarter.
“She is, and wishes to know who makes the inquiry?” returned the
Sing-Sing skipper, in the singsong manner in which ordinary folk repeat
what is dictated.
“Say that Miss Hardinge has a message to Mrs. Drewett from Mrs. Ogilvie,
who is on board that other sloop,” added Lucy, in a low, and, as I
thought, tremulous tone.
I was nearly choked; but made out to communicate the fact, as directed.
In an instant I heard the foot of one who leaped on the Orpheus's
quarter-deck, and then Andrew Drewett appeared, hat in hand, a face
all smiles, eyes that told his tale as plain as any tongue could have
uttered it, and such salutations as denoted the most perfect intimacy.
Lucy took my arm involuntarily, and I could feel that she trembled. The
two vessels were now so near, and everything around us was so tranquil,
that by Lucy's advancing to the Wallingford's quarter-deck, and
Drewett's coming to the taffrail of the Orpheus, it was easy to converse
without any unseemly raising of the voice. All that had been said
between me and the skipper, indeed, had been said on a key but little
higher than common. By the change in Lucy's position, I could no longer
see her face; but I knew it was suffused, and that she was far from
being as composed and collected as was usual with her demeanour. All
this was death to my recent happiness, though I could not abstain from
watching what now passed, with the vigilance of jealousy.
“Good-morning,” Lucy commenced, and the words were uttered in a tone
that I thought bespoke great familiarity, if not confidence; “will you
have the goodness to tell your mother that Mrs. Ogilvie begs she will
not leave Albany until after her arrival. The other sloop, Mrs. Ogilvie
thinks, cannot be more than an hour or two after you, and she is very
desirous of making a common party to--ah! there comes Mrs. Drewett,”
said Lucy, hastily interrupting herself, “and I can deliver my message,
myself.”
Mrs. Drewett coming aft at this instant, Lucy certainly did turn to
her, and communicated a message, which it seems the lady in the Gull had
earnestly requested her to deliver in passing.
“And now,” returned Mrs. Drewett, when Lucy had ceased, first civilly
saluting me, “and now, my dear Lucy, we have something for you. So
sudden was your departure, on the receipt of that naughty letter,”
my letter, summoning the dear girl to the bed-side of her friend,
was meant, “that you left your work-box behind you, and, as I knew it
contained many notes besides bank-notes, I would not allow it to be
separated from me, until we met. Here it is; in what manner shall we
contrive to get it into your hands?”
Lucy started, and I could see that she both felt and looked anxious.
As I afterwards learned, she had been passing a day at Mrs. Drewett's
villa, which joined her own, both standing on the rocks quite near to
that spot which a mawkish set among us is trying to twist from plain
homely, up-and-down, old fashioned Hell Gate, into the exquisite and
lackadaisical corruption of _Hurl_ Gate--Heaven save the mark! What puny
piece of folly and affectation will they attempt next?--but Lucy was
paying this visit when she received my letter, and it appears such
was her haste to get to Grace, that she quitted the house immediately,
leaving behind her a small work-box, _unlocked_, and in it various
papers that she did not wish read. Of course, one of Lucy's sentiments
and tone, could hardly suspect a lady, and Mrs. Drewett was strictly
that, of rummaging her box or of reading her notes and letters; but
one is never easy when such things can be supposed to be in the way of
impertinent eyes. There are maids as well as mistresses, and I
could see, in a moment, that she wished the box was again in her own
possession. Under the circumstances, therefore, I felt it was time to
interfere.
“If your sloop will round-to, Mr. Drewett,” I remarked, receiving a cold
salutation from the gentleman, in return for my own bow, the first sign
of recognition that had passed between us, “I will round-to, myself, and
send a boat for the box.”
This proposal drew all eyes towards the skipper, who was still leaning
against his tiller, smoking for life or death. I was not favourably
received, extorting a grunt in reply, that any one could understand
denoted dissent. The pipe was slowly removed, and the private opinion of
this personage was pretty openly expressed, in his Dutchified dialect.
“If a body coult get a wint for der askin', dis might do very well,” he
said; “but nobody rounts-to mit a fair wind.”
I have always remarked that they who have used a dialect different
from the common forms of speech in their youth, and come afterwards to
correct it, by intercourse with the world, usually fall back into their
early infirmities in moments of trial, perplexity, or anger. This is
easily explained. Habit has become a sort of nature, in their childhood,
and it is when most tried that we are the most natural. Then, this
skipper, an Albany--or Al_bon_ny man, as he would probably have styled
himself, had got down the river as far as Sing-Sing, and had acquired
a tolerable English; but, being now disturbed, he fell back upon his
original mode of speaking, the certain proof that he would never give
in. I saw at once the hopelessness of attempting to persuade one of his
school, and had begun to devise some other scheme for getting the box on
board, when to my surprise, and not a little to my concern, I saw Andrew
Drewett, first taking the box from his mother, step upon the end of our
main-boom, and move along the spar with the evident intention to walk
as far as our deck and deliver Lucy her property with his own hands.
The whole thing occurred so suddenly, that there was no time for
remonstrance. Young gentlemen who are thoroughly in love, are not often
discreet in matters connected with their devotion to their mistresses.
I presume Drewett saw the boom placed so favourably as to tempt him, and
he fancied it would be a thing to mention to carry a lady her work-box
across a bridge that was of so precarious a footing. Had the spar lain
on the ground, it would certainly have been no exploit at all to for any
young man to walk its length, carrying his arms full of work-boxes; but
it was a very different matter when the same feat had to be performed
on a sloop's boom in its place, suspended over the water, with the
sail set, and the vessel in motion. This Drewett soon discovered, for,
advancing a step or two, he grasped the topping-lift, which luckily for
him happened to be taut, for a support. All this occurred before there
was time for remonstrance, or even for thought. At the same instant Neb,
in obedience to a sign previously given by me, had put the helm down a
little, and the boom-end was already twenty feet from the quarter-deck
of the Orpheus.
Of course, all the women screamed, or exclaimed, on some key or other.
Poor Mrs. Drewett hid her face, and began to moan her son as lost. I did
not dare look at Lucy, who remained quiet as to voice, after the first
involuntary exclamation, and as immovable as a statue. Luckily her face
was from me. As Drewett was evidently discomposed, I thought it best,
however, to devise something not only for his relief, but for that
of Lucy's box, which was in quite as much jeopardy as the young man,
himself; more so, indeed, if the latter could swim. I was on the point
of calling out to Drewett to hold on, and I would cause the boom-end
to reach over the Orpheus's main-deck, after which he might easily drop
down among his friends, when Neb, finding some one to take the helm,
suddenly stood at my side.
“He drop dat box, sartain, Masser Mile,” half-whispered the negro; “he
leg begin to shake already, and he won'erful skear'd!”
“I would not have that happen for a good deal--can you save it, Neb?”
“Sartain, sir. Only hab to run out on 'e boom and bring it in, and gib
it Miss Lucy; she mighty partic'lar about dat werry box, Masser Mile, as
I see a hundrer time, and more too.”
“Well, lay out, boy, and bring it in,--and look to your footing, Neb.”
This was all Neb wanted. The fellow had feet shaped a good deal like
any other aquatic bird, with the essential difference, however, that no
small part of his foundation had been laid abaft the perpendicular of
the tendon Achilles, and, being without shoes, he could nearly encircle
a small spar in his grasp. Often and often had I seen Neb run out on a
top-sail-yard, the ship pitching heavily, catching at the lift; and
it was a mere trifle after that, to run out on a spar as large as the
Wallingford's main-boom. A tolerably distinctive scream from Chloe,
first apprised me that the negro was in motion. Looking in that
direction, I saw him walking steadily along the boom, notwithstanding
Drewett's loud remonstrances, and declarations that he wanted no
assistance, until he reached the spot where the young gentleman stood
grasping the lift, with his legs submitting to more tremour than was
convenient. Neb now grinned, looked as amiable as possible, held out his
hand, and revealed the object of his visit.
“Masser Mile t'ink 'e gentleum better gib _me_ Miss Lucy box”--said Neb,
as politely as he knew how.
I believe in my soul that Drewett could have kissed Neb, so glad was he
to obtain this little relief. The box was yielded without the slightest
objection, Neb receiving it with a bow; after which the negro turned
round as coolly as if he were on the deck, and walked deliberately and
steadily in to the mast. He stopped an instant just at the small of the
spar, to look back at Drewett, who was saying something to pacify his
mother; and I observed that, as he stood with his heels in a line, the
toes nearly met underneath the boom, which his feet grasped something in
the manner of talons. A deep sigh reached my ear, as Neb bounded lightly
on deck, and I knew whence it came by the exclamation of--
“De _fel_-ler!”
As for Neb, he advanced with his prize, which he offered to Lucy with
one of his best bows, but in a way to show he was not conscious of
having performed any unusual exploit. Lucy handed the box to Chloe,
without averting her eyes from Drewett, in whose situation she
manifested a good deal more concern than I liked, or fancied he
deserved.
“Thank you, Mr. Drewett,” she said, affecting to think the box had been
recovered altogether by his address; “it is now safe, and there is no
longer any necessity for your coming here. Let Mr. Wallingford do what
he says”--I had mentioned in a low voice, the practicability of my own
scheme--“and return to your own sloop.”
But, two things now interposed to the execution of this very simple
expedient. The first was Drewett's pride, blended with a little
obstinacy, and the other was the “Al_bon_ny” skipper's pride, blended
with a good deal of obstinacy. The first did not like to retreat, after
Neb had so clearly demonstrated it was no great matter to walk on the
boom; and the latter, soured by the manner in which we had outsailed
him, and fancying Andrew had deserted to get on board a faster vessel,
resented the whole by sheering away from us to the distance of a hundred
yards. I saw that there remained but a single expedient, and set about
adopting it without further delay.
“Take good hold of the lift, Mr. Drewett, and steady yourself with both
hands; ease away the peak halyards to tauten that lift a little more,
forward. Now, one of you stand by to ease off the guy handsomely, and
the rest come aft to the main-sheet. Look out for yourself, Mr. Drewett;
we are about to haul in the boom, when it will be a small matter to get
you in, upon the taffrail. Stand by to luff handsomely, so as to keep
the boom as steady as possible.”
But Drewett clamorously protested against our doing anything of the
sort. He was getting used to his situation, and intended to come in
Neb-fashion, in a minute more. All he asked was not to be hurried.
“No--no--no--touch nothing I entreat of you, _Captain_ Wallingford”--he
said, earnestly. “If that black can do it, surely I ought to do it,
too.”
“But the black has claws, and you have none, sir; then he is a sailor,
and used to such things, and you are none, sir. Moreover, he was
barefooted, while you have got on stiff, and I dare say slippery boots.”
“Yes, the boots _are_ an encumbrance. If I could only throw them off, I
should do well enough. As it is, however, I hope to have the honour of
shaking you by the hand, Miss Hardinge, without the disgrace of being
helped.”
Mr. Hardinge here expostulated, but all in vain; for I saw plainly
enough Drewett was highly excited, and that he was preparing for a
start. These signs were now so apparent that all of us united our voices
in remonstrances; and Lucy said imploringly to me--“_Do_ not let him
move, Miles--I have heard him say he cannot swim.”
It was too late. Pride, mortified vanity, obstinacy, love, or what you
will, rendered the young man deaf, and away he went, abandoning the
lift, his sole protection. I saw, the moment he quitted his grasp, that
he would never reach the mast, and made my arrangements accordingly. I
called to Marble to stand by to luff; and, just as the words passed my
lips, a souse into the water told the whole story. The first glance at
poor Drewett's frantic manner of struggling told me that Lucy was really
aware of his habits, and that he could not swim. I was in light duck,
jacket and trowsers, with seaman's pumps; and placing a foot on the
rail, I alighted alongside of the drowning young man, just as he went
under. Well assured he would reappear, I waited for that, and presently
I got a view of his hair, within reach of my arm, and I grasped it, in
a way to turn him on his back, and bring his face uppermost. At this
moment the sloop was gliding away from us, Marble having instantly put
the helm hard down, in order to round-to. As I afterwards learned, the
state of the case was no sooner understood in the other sloop, than the
Al_bon_-ny men gave in, and imitated the Wallingford.
There was no time for reflection. As soon as Drewett's hair was in my
grasp, I raised his head from the water, by an effort that forced me
under it, to let him catch his breath; and then relaxed the power by
which it had been done, to come up myself. I had done this to give him a
moment to recover his recollection, in the hope he would act reasonably;
and I now desired him to lay his two hands on my shoulders, permit his
body to sink as low as possible and breathe, and trust the rest to
me. If the person in danger can be made to do this, an ordinarily
good swimmer could tow him a mile, without any unusual effort. But the
breathing spell afforded to Drewett had the effect just to give him
strength to struggle madly for existence, without aiding his reason. On
the land, he would have been nothing in my hands; but, in the water, the
merest boy may become formidable. God forgive me, if I do him injustice!
but I have sometimes thought, since, that Drewett was perfectly
conscious who I was, and that he gave some vent to his jealous distrust
of Lucy's feelings towards me. This may be all imagination; but I
certainly heard the words “Lucy” “Wallingford,” “Clawbonny,” “hateful,”
muttered by the man, even as he struggled there for life. The advantage
given him, by turning to allow him to put his hands on my shoulders,
liked to have cost me dear. Instead of doing as I directed, he grasped
my neck with both arms, and seemed to wish to mount on my head, forcing
his own shoulders quite out of water, and mine, by that much weight,
beneath it. It was while we were thus placed, his mouth within an inch
or two of my very ear, that I heard the words muttered which have been
mentioned. It is possible, however, that he was unconscious of that
which terror and despair extorted from him.
I saw no time was to be lost, and my efforts became desperate. I first
endeavoured to swim with this great encumbrance; but it was useless.
The strength of Hercules could not long have buoyed up the under body
of such a load, sufficiently to raise the nostrils for breath; and the
convulsive twitches of Drewett's arms were near strangling me. I must
throw him off, or drown. Abandoning the attempt to swim, I seized his
hands with mine, and endeavoured to loosen his grasp of my neck. Of
course we both sank while I was thus engaged; for it was impossible to
keep my head above water, by means of my feet alone, with a man of some
size riding, from his shoulders up, above the level of my chin.
I can scarcely describe what followed. I confess I thought ho longer of
saving Drewett's life, but only of saving my own. We struggled there in
the water like the fiercest enemies, each aiming for the mastery, as, if
one were to live, the other must die. We sank, and rose to the surface
for air, solely by my efforts, no less than three times; Drewett getting
the largest benefits by the latter, thus renewing his strength; while
mine, great as it was by nature, began gradually to fail. A struggle so
terrific could not last long. We sank a fourth time, and I felt it was
not to rise again, when relief came from an unexpected quarter. From
boyhood, my father had taught me the important lesson of keeping my
eyes open under water. By means of this practice, I not only _felt_, but
_saw_ the nature of the tremendous struggle that was going on. It
also gave me a slight advantage over Drewett, who closed his eyes, by
enabling me to see how to direct my own exertions. While sinking, as I
believed, for the last time, I saw a large object approaching me in the
water, which, in the confusion of the moment, I took for a shark, though
sharks never ascended the Hudson so high, and were even rare at New
York. There it was, however, swimming towards us, and even descending
lower as if to pass beneath, in readiness for the fatal snap. Beneath it
did pass, and I felt it pressing upward, raising Drewett and myself to
the surface. As I got a glimpse of the light, and a delicious draught of
air, Drewett was drawn from my neck by Marble, whose encouraging voice
sounded like music in my ears. At the next instant my shark emerged,
puffing like a porpoise; and then I heard--
“Hole on, Masser Mile--here he nigger close by!”
I was dragged into the boat, I scarce knew how, and lay down completely
exhausted; while my late companion seemed to me to be a lifeless corpse.
In a moment, Neb, dripping like a black river god, and glistening like a
wet bottle, placed himself in the bottom of the boat, took my head into
his lap, and began to squeeze the water from my hair, and to dry my face
with some one's handkerchief--I trust it was not his own.
“Pull away, lads, for the sloop,” said Marble, as soon as everybody was
out of the river. “This gentleman seems to have put on the hatches for
the last time--as for Miles, _he_'ll never drown in fresh water.”
End of Project Gutenberg's Afloat And Ashore, by James Fenimore Cooper