“Let us think of them that sleep
Full many a fathom deep,
By the wild and stormy steep,
Elsinore!”
_Campbell_.
Long and dreary did the hours appear to Barnstable, before the falling
tide had so far receded as to leave the sands entirely exposed to his
search for the bodies of his lost shipmates. Several had been rescued
from the wild fury of the waves themselves; and one by one, as the
melancholy conviction that life had ceased was forced on the survivors,
they had been decently interred in graves dug on the very margin of that
element on which they had passed their lives. But still the form longest
known and most beloved was missing, and the lieutenant paced the broad
space that was now left between the foot of the cliffs and the raging
ocean, with hurried strides and a feverish eye, watching and following
those fragments of the wreck that the sea still continued to cast on the
beach. Living and dead, he now found that of those who had lately been
in the Ariel, only two were missing. Of the former he could muster but
twelve, besides Merry and himself, and his men had already interred more
than half that number of the latter, which, together, embraced all who
had trusted their lives to the frail keeping of the whale-boat.
“Tell me not, boy, of the impossibility of his being safe,” said
Barnstable, in deep agitation, which he in vain struggled to conceal
from the anxious youth, who thought it unnecessary to follow the uneasy
motions of his commander, as he strode along the sands. “How often have
men been found floating on pieces of wreck, days after the loss of their
vessel? and you can see, with your own eyes, that the falling water has
swept the planks this distance; ay, a good half-league from where she
struck. Does the lookout from the top of the cliffs make no signal of
seeing him yet?”
“None, sir, none; we shall never see him again. The men say that he
always thought it sinful to desert a wreck, and that he did not even
strike out once for his life, though he has been known to swim an hour,
when a whale has stove his boat. God knows, sir,” added the boy, hastily
dashing a tear from his eye, by a stolen movement of his hand, “I loved
Tom Coffin better than any foremast man in either vessel. You seldom
came aboard the frigate but we had him in the steerage among us reefers,
to hear his long yarns, and share our cheer. We all loved him, Mr.
Barnstable; but love cannot bring the dead to life again.”
“I know it, I know it,” said Barnstable, with a huskiness in his voice
that betrayed the depth of his emotion. “I am not so foolish as to
believe in impossibilities; but while there is a hope of his living, I
will never abandon poor Tom Coffin to such a dreadful fate. Think, boy,
he may, at this moment, be looking at us, and praying to his Maker that
he would turn our eyes upon him; ay, praying to his God, for Tom often
prayed, though he did it in his watch, standing, and in silence.”
“If he had clung to life so strongly,” returned the midshipman, “he
would have struggled harder to preserve it.”
Barnstable stopped short in his hurried walk, and fastened a look of
opening conviction on his companion; but, as he was about to speak in
reply, the shouts of the seamen reached his ears, and, turning, they
saw the whole party running along the beach, and motioning, with violent
gestures, to an intermediate point in the ocean. The lieutenant and
Merry hurried back, and, as they approached the men, they distinctly
observed a human figure, borne along by the waves, at moments seeming to
rise above them, and already floating in the last of the breakers. They
had hardly ascertained so much, when a heavy swell carried the inanimate
body far upon the sands, where it was left by the retiring waters.
“'Tis my cockswain!” cried Barnstable, rushing to the spot. He stopped
suddenly, however, as he came within view of the features, and it was
some little time before he appeared to have collected his faculties
sufficiently to add, in tones of deep horror: “What wretch is this, boy!
His form is unmutilated, and yet observe the eyes! they seem as if the
sockets would not contain them, and they gaze as wildly as if their
owner yet had life--the hands are open and spread, as though they would
still buffet the waves!”
“The Jonah! the Jonah!” shouted the seamen, with savage exultation, as
they successively approached the corpse; “away with his carrion into the
sea again! give him to the sharks! let him tell his lies in the claws of
the lobsters!”
Barnstable had turned away from the revolting sight, in disgust; but
when he discovered these indications of impotent revenge in the remnant
of his crew, he said, in that voice which all respected and still
obeyed:
“Stand back! back with ye, fellows! Would you disgrace your manhood and
seamanship, by wreaking your vengeance on him whom God has already
in judgment!” A silent, but significant, gesture towards the earth
succeeded his words, and he walked slowly away.
“Bury him in the sands, boys,” said Merry, when his commander was at
some little distance; “the next tide will unearth him.”
The seamen obeyed his orders, while the midshipman rejoined his
commander, who continued to pace along the beach, occasionally halting
to throw his uneasy glances over the water, and then hurrying onward, at
a rate that caused his youthful companion to exert his greatest power to
maintain the post he had taken at his side. Every effort to discover the
lost cockswain was, however, after two hours' more search, abandoned as
fruitless; and with reason, for the sea was never known to give up the
body of the man who might be emphatically called its own dead.
“There goes the sun, already dropping behind the cliffs,” said the
lieutenant, throwing himself on a rock; “and the hour will soon arrive
to set the dog-watches; but we have nothing left to watch over, boy; the
surf and rocks have not even left us a whole plank that we may lay our
heads on for the night.”
“The men have gathered many articles on yon beach, sir,” returned the
lad; “they have found arms to defend ourselves with, and food to give us
strength to use them.”
“And who shall be our enemy?” asked Barnstable, bitterly; “shall we
shoulder our dozen pikes, and carry England by boarding?”
“We may not lay the whole island under contribution,” continued the boy,
anxiously, watching the expression of his commander's eye; “but we may
still keep ourselves in work until the cutter returns from the frigate.
I hope, sir, you do not think our case so desperate, as to intend
yielding as prisoners.”
“Prisoners!” exclaimed the lieutenant; “no, no, lad, it has not got to
that, yet! England has been able to wreck my craft, I must concede; but
she has, as yet, obtained no other advantage over us. She was a precious
model, Merry! the cleanest run, and the neatest entrance, that art ever
united on the stem and stern of the same vessel! Do you remember the
time, younker, when I gave the frigate my top-sails, in beating out of
the Chesapeake? I could always do it, in smooth water, with a whole-sail
breeze. But she was a frail thing! a frail thing, boy, and could bear
but little.”
“A mortar-ketch would have thumped to pieces where she lay,” returned
the midshipman.
“Ay, it was asking too much of her, to expect she could hold together
on a bed of rocks. Merry, I loved her; dearly did I love her; she was
my first command, and I knew and loved every timber and bolt in her
beautiful frame!”
“I believe it is as natural, sir, for a seaman to love the wood and iron
in which he has floated over the depths of the ocean for so many days
and nights,” rejoined the boy, “as it is for a father to love the
members of his own family.”
“Quite, quite, ay, more so,” said Barnstable, speaking as if he were
choked by emotion. Merry felt the heavy grasp of the lieutenant on his
slight arm, while his commander continued, in a voice that gradually
increased in power, as his feelings predominated; “and yet, boy, a human
being cannot love the creature of his own formation as he does the works
of God. A man can never regard his ship as he does his shipmates. I
sailed with him, boy, when everything seemed bright and happy, as at
your age; when, as he often expressed it, I knew nothing and feared
nothing. I was then a truant from an old father and a kind mother, and
he did that for me which no parents could have done in my situation--he
was my father and mother on the deep!--hours, days, even months, has he
passed in teaching me the art of our profession; and now, in my manhood,
he has followed me from ship to ship, from sea to sea, and has only
quitted me to die, where I should have died--as if he felt the disgrace
of abandoning the poor Ariel to her fate, by herself!”
“No--no--no--'twas his superstitious pride!” interrupted Merry, but
perceiving that the head of Barnstable had sunk between his hands, as
if he would conceal his emotion, the boy added no more; but he sat
respectfully watching the display of feeling that his officer in vain
endeavored to suppress. Merry felt his own form quiver with sympathy at
the shuddering which passed through Barnstable's frame; and the relief
experienced by the lieutenant himself was not greater than that which
the midshipman felt, as the latter beheld large tears forcing their way
through the other's fingers, and falling on the sands at his feet. They
were followed by a violent burst of emotion, such as is seldom exhibited
in the meridian of life; but which, when it conquers the nature of one
who has buffeted the chances of the world with the loftiness of his sex
and character, breaks down every barrier, and seems to sweep before
it, like a rushing torrent, all the factitious defences which habit and
education have created to protect the pride of manhood. Merry had often
beheld the commanding severity of the lieutenant's manner in moments of
danger, with deep respect; he had been drawn towards him by kindness and
affection, in times of gayety and recklessness: but he now sat for many
minutes profoundly silent, regarding his officer with sensations that
were nearly allied to awe. The struggle with himself was long and
severe in the bosom of Barnstable; but, at length, the calm of relieved
passions succeeded to his emotion. When he arose from the rock, and
removed his hands from his features, his eye was hard and proud, his
brow lightly contracted, and he spoke in a voice so harsh, that it
startled his companion:
“Come, sir; why are we here and idle? are not yon poor fellows looking
up to us for advice and orders how to proceed in this exigency? Away,
away, Mr. Merry; it is not a time to be drawing figures, in the sand
with your dirk; the flood-tide will soon be in, and we may be glad to
hide our heads in some cavern among these rocks. Let us be stirring,
sir, while we have the sun, and muster enough food and arms to keep life
in us, and our enemies off us, until we can once more get afloat.”
The wondering boy, whose experience had not yet taught him to appreciate
the reaction of the passions, started at this unexpected summons to his
duty, and followed Barnstable towards the group of distant seamen. The
lieutenant, who was instantly conscious how far pride had rendered him
unjust, soon moderated his long strides, and continued in milder tones,
which were quickly converted into his usual frank communications, though
they still remained tinged with a melancholy, that time only could
entirely remove:
“We have been unlucky, Mr. Merry, but we need not despair--these lads
have gotten together abundance of supplies, I see; and, with our arms,
we can easily make ourselves masters of some of the enemy's smaller
craft, and find our way back to the frigate, when this gale has blown
itself out. We must keep ourselves close, though, or we shall have the
redcoats coming down upon us, like so many sharks around a wreck. Ah!
God bless her, Merry! There is not such a sight to be seen on the whole
beach as two of her planks holding together.”
The midshipman, without adverting to this sudden allusion to their
vessel, prudently pursued the train of ideas in which his commander had
started.
“There is an opening into the country, but a short distance south of us,
where a brook empties into the sea,” he said. “We might find a cover
in it, or in the wood above, into which it leads, until we can have a
survey of the coast, or can seize some vessel to carry us off.”
“There would be a satisfaction in waiting till the morning watch, and
then carrying that accursed battery, which took off the better leg of
the poor Ariel!” said the lieutenant--“the thing might be done, boy, and
we could hold the work, too, until the Alacrity and the frigate draw in
to land.”
“If you prefer storming works to boarding vessels, there is a fortress
of stone, Mr. Barnstable, which lies directly on our beam. I could
see it through the haze, when I was on the cliffs, stationing the
lookout--and----
“And what, boy? speak without a fear; this is a time for free
consultation.”
“Why, sir, the garrison might not all be hostile--we should liberate Mr.
Griffith and the marines; besides----”
“Besides what, sir?”
“I should have an opportunity, perhaps, of seeing my cousin Cecilia and
my cousin Katherine.”
The countenance of Barnstable grew animated as he listened, and he
answered with something of his usual cheerful manner:
“Ay, that, indeed, would be a work worth carrying! And the rescuing
of our shipmates, and the marines, would read like a thing of military
discretion--ha! boy! all the rest would be incidental, younker; like the
capture of the fleet, after you have whipped the convoy.”
“I do suppose, sir, that if the abbey be taken, Colonel Howard will own
himself a prisoner of war.”
“And Colonel Howard's wards! now there is good sense in this scheme of
thine, Master Merry, and I will give it proper reflection. But here are
our poor fellows; speak cheeringly to them, sir, that we may hold them
in temper for our enterprise.”
Barnstable and the midshipman joined their shipwrecked companions, with
that air of authority which is seldom wanting between the superior
and the inferior, in nautical intercourse, but at the same time with a
kindness of speech and looks, that might have been a little increased
by their critical situation. After partaking of the food which had been
selected from among the fragments that still lay scattered, for more
than a mile, along the beach, the lieutenant directed the seamen to arm
themselves with such weapons as offered, and also to make sufficient
provision, from the schooner's stores, to last them for four-and-twenty
hours longer. These orders were soon executed; and the whole party,
led by Barnstable and Merry, proceeded along the foot of the cliffs,
in quest of the opening in the rocks, through which the little rivulet
found a passage to the ocean. The weather contributed, as much as the
seclusion of the spot to prevent any discovery of the small party, which
pursued its object with a disregard of caution that might, under other
circumstances, have proved fatal to its safety. Barnstable paused in his
march when they had all entered the deep ravine, and ascended nearly to
the brow of the precipice, that formed one of its sides, to take a last
and more scrutinizing survey of the sea. His countenance exhibited the
abandonment of all hope, as his eye moved slowly from the northern to
the southern boundary of the horizon, and he prepared to pursue his
march, by moving, reluctantly, up the stream, when the boy, who still
clung to his side, exclaimed joyously:
“Sail ho!--It must be the frigate in the offing!”
“A sail!” repeated his commander; “where away do you see a sail in this
tempest? Can there be another as hardy and unfortunate as ourselves!”
“Look to the starboard hand of the point of rock to windward!” cried the
boy; “now you lose it--ah! now the sun falls upon it! 'tis a sail, sir,
as sure as canvas can be spread in such a gale!”
“I see what you mean,” returned the other, “but it seems a gull,
skimming the sea! nay, now it rises, indeed, and shows itself like a
bellying topsail: pass up that glass, lads; here is a fellow in the
offing who may prove a friend.”
Merry waited the result of the lieutenant's examination with youthful
impatience, and did not fail to ask immediately:
“Can you make it out, sir? is it the ship or the cutter?”
“Come, there seemeth yet some hope left for us, boy,” returned
Barnstable, closing the glass; “'tis a ship lying-to under her
maintopsail. If one might but dare to show himself on these heights, he
would raise her hull, and make sure of her character! But I think I know
her spars, though even her topsail dips, at times, when there is
nothing to be seen but her bare poles; and they shortened by her
top-gallantmasts.”
“One would swear,” said Merry, laughing, as much through the excitement
produced by this intelligence, as at his conceit, “that Captain Munson
would never carry wood aloft, when he can't carry canvas. I remember,
one night, Mr. Griffith was a little vexed, and said, around the
capstan, he believed the next order would be to rig in the bowsprit, and
house lowermasts!”
“Ay, ay, Griffith is a lazy dog, and sometimes gets lost in the fogs of
his own thoughts,” said Barnstable; “and I suppose old Moderate was in a
breeze. However, this looks as if he were in earnest; he must have kept
the ship away, or she would never have been where she is; I do verily
believe the old gentleman remembers that he has a few of his officers
and men on this accursed island. This is well, Merry; for should we take
the abbey, we have a place at hand in which to put our prisoners.”
“We must have patience till the morning,” added the boy, “for no boat
would attempt to land in such a sea.”
“No boat could land! The best boat that ever floated, boy, has sunk in
these breakers! But the wind lessens, and before morning the sea will
fall. Let us on, and find a berth for our poor lads, where they can be
made more comfortable.”
The two officers now descended from their elevation, and led the way
still farther up the deep and narrow dell, until, as the ground rose
gradually before them, they found themselves in a dense wood, on a level
with the adjacent country.
“Here should be a ruin at hand, if I have a true reckoning, and know my
courses and distances,” said Barnstable; “I have a chart about me that
speaks of such a landmark.”
The lieutenant turned away from the laughing expression of the boy's
eye, as the latter archly inquired:
“Was it made by one who knows the coast well, sir? Of was it done by
some schoolboy, to learn his maps, as the girls work samplers?”
“Come, younker, no sampler of your impudence. But look ahead; can you
see any habitation that has been deserted?”
“Ay, sir, here is a pile of stones before us, that looks as dirty and
ragged as if it was a soldier's barrack; can this be what you seek?”
“Faith, this has been a whole town in its day! we should call it a city
in America, and furnish it with a mayor, aldermen, and recorder--you
might stow old Faneuil Hall in one of its lockers.”
With this sort of careless dialogue, which Barnstable engaged in, that
his men might discover no alteration in his manner, they approached
the mouldering walls that had proved so frail a protection to the party
under Griffith.
A short time was passed in examining the premises, when the wearied
seamen took possession of one of the dilapidated apartments, and
disposed themselves to seek that rest of which they had been deprived by
the momentous occurrences of the past night.
Barnstable waited until the loud breathing of the seamen assured him
that they slept, when he aroused the drowsy boy, who was fast losing his
senses in the same sort of oblivion, and motioned him to follow. Merry
arose, and they stole together from the apartment, with guarded steps,
and penetrated more deeply into the gloomy recesses of the place.