THE LAST OF THE WALDO.
The storm which swept over the waters of the lower bay, lashing them
into a wild fury, and piling up the angry waves upon them, was not
merely a squall; it was a hurricane, which raged for half an hour with
uninterrupted violence. From the time the tempest struck the Waldo, she
had been drifting towards the dangerous rocks; and when the wheel and
rudder-head were shattered, the vessel became unmanageable. Six men,
including the captain and the passenger, lay paralyzed on the
quarter-deck. There were only three left--the mate, the steward, and one
seaman. When the steering apparatus was disabled, the brig fell off, and
rushed madly before the hurricane, towards the dangerous reefs. The rain
had been pouring down in torrents for a few moments, but little cared
the seamen for that which could not harm the vessel.
Harvey Barth was not, and did not pretend to be, a sailor. When the
storm burst upon the vessel, he retired to the galley. When the moments
of peril came, he was alarmed at first; but then he felt that he had
only a few months, or a year or two at most, of life left to him, and he
tried to be as brave as the sailors who were doing there utmost to save
the brig from destruction. Perhaps it would have been a pleasure to him
in the last days of his life to do some noble deed; but there was only
the drudgery of the common sailor to be done. He saw the man from the
topsail yard strike heavily upon the deck. He dragged him into the
galley, but he seemed to be dead. The steward had tender feelings, and
he tried to do something to restore the unconscious sailor. While he was
thus engaged, the mate summoned him to assist in setting the
fore-topmast staysail. He obeyed the call, though it was the first time
he was ever called upon to do any duty, except to make fast, or cast off
the fore-sheet. He was not a strong man, but he did the best he could at
the halyard, and the mate was satisfied with him.
The bolt of lightning which came down the mainmast seemed to shake and
shatter the brig, and the hands forward were terribly startled by the
shock. Then the sail they were setting was torn in pieces. The mate who
had worked vigorously and courageously, saw that all they had done was
useless. The vessel fell off, and rushed to the ruin that was in store
for her.
"It is all up with us," said Mr. Carboy, the mate, as he dropped the
halyard. "Nothing can save the brig now."
"What shall we do?" asked Harvey Barth, startled by the words of the
officer. "Must we drown here?"
"We shall do what we can to save ourselves," replied Mr. Carboy, as he
made his way with no little difficulty to the quarter-deck, in order to
ascertain the condition of things, for he was not aware of the havoc
which the lightning had made among his shipmates.
[Illustration: THE WRECK OF THE WALDO. Page 28.]
A flash of the electric fluid streamed along the mass of black clouds at
this instant, and disclosed to him the situation of his companions. He
was shocked by the sight, and even his strong frame was shaken by the
fearful scene which for an instant only was visible to him. He
recognized the captain, but he seemed to be dead. Next to him was the
passenger, who was getting upon his feet again, apparently not much
injured by the bolt. Not another of the six men who lay on the
quarter-deck moved, or exhibited any signs of life. The mate,--in whose
mind the situation of each of his unfortunate shipmates was fixed in
such a way that he could not have forgotten the scene if he had lived to
be a hundred years old,--went to each man, but could discover no
indications of vitality in them. He was thinking of saving his own life,
but it was awful, and terribly repulsive to his sense of humanity to
consider the idea of abandoning the vessel while these men, who might be
only stunned by the shock lay on her deck.
"What's to be done, Mr. Carboy?" asked the passenger, when another flash
revealed to him the presence of the mate; "we shall be on the rock in
another moment."
"We have two boats, but we can't get them into the water in this
weather. It blows harder and harder," replied the mate.
The passenger said no more, but, guided by the vivid lightning, he
rushed down the companion-way into the cabin of the brig; but in another
moment he returned with a small, but heavy package in his hand. When the
mate went aft, Harvey Barth visited the galley, and took from the box
his diary, still carefully envelloped in the oil-cloth. This book was
the repository of the few valuables he possessed, but whether it was for
the diary, or the treasures it contained, that he was so anxious to save
it at that trying moment, we may not know. He stuffed the book inside of
his guernsey shirt, which he buttoned tightly over it. Then he crawled
to the quarter-deck by holding on at the bulwarks; and here all the
survivors of the tempest and the lightning met, as the passenger came up
from the cabin.
The brig rose and fell on the savage waves, and still dashed madly on
towards the rocks. She lay broadside to the hurricane, so that her
progress was slower than it would otherwise have been. His companions
looked to the mate, whose skill and courage had inspired their
confidence, to point out the means of safety, if there were any means
of safety in such a tempest. The brig had evidently shifted her cargo in
the hold, for she had heeled over until the water was a foot deep in the
lee scuppers.
"It will be all over with the Waldo in two minutes more," said
Wallbridge, in a loud voice, which was necessary in order to make
himself heard above the roar of the tempest.
"I don't know this part of the bay very well," replied Mr. Carboy in the
same loud tone.
"We shall strike on a ledge in a minute or two."
"Then we will be ready for it," added the mate, taking from within the
fife-rail at the foot of the mainmast a couple of sharp axes, which were
kept for just such emergencies as the present.
"We haven't time to cut away the masts," protested Wallbridge, as a
flash of lightning revealed the axes in the hands of the mate.
"I am not going to cut away the masts. The jolly-boat wouldn't live a
moment in this sea, and we must get the whale-boat overboard," answered
the mate, as he went down into the waist, where the boat was locked up.
"Here, Burns, cut away the lee bulward," he shouted to the only
remaining seaman of the brig.
"Give me the other axe," said Wallbridge. "I know how to use it."
"Good! Make quick work of it," added Mr. Carboy. "Here, steward, bear a
hand at this boat."
The passenger carefully deposited in the fore-sheets of the whale-boat
the heavy bundle he had brought up from the cabin, and seizing the axe,
he applied himself vigorously to the labor of cutting away the bulwark.
The mate and steward cleared away the boat, and swung it around so that
the stern was headed towards the opening. But while the passenger and
the seaman were delivering their blows with the axes as well as the
uneasy motion of the vessel would permit, the brig rose on the sea, and
came down with a most tremendous crash. Over went the mainmast,
shattered at the heel by the bolt of lightning. The planks and timbers
of the Waldo snapped and were ground into splinters as the hull pounded
upon the sharp rocks. The sea began to break over the deck, as the
vessel settled.
"Give me that axe, Burns," yelled the mate, as he sprang to the seaman,
and snatched the implement from his hands. "Clear away the wreck," he
added to the passenger.
Aided by the frequent flashes of lightning, the mate and Wallbridge cut
away the braces and other rigging which encumbered the waist, and
impeded the launching of the whale-boat. In a few moments it was all
clear. Harvey Barth, aware of his own weakness, had already seated
himself in the boat, which was ready, and almost floated on the deck
when the heavy seas rolled over it.
"Into the boat!" called the mate, as he stood at the bow of it. "Take an
oar, Mr. Wallbridge."
The passenger obeyed the order. Enough of the bulwarks had been cut away
to allow the passage of the boat. Mr. Carboy waited till a heavy billow
swept over the deck of the brig, and then pushed her off into the
boiling waves, leaping over the bow, as it cleared the vessel.
"Give way!" he shouted, as the whale-boat was swept away from the brig.
"Keep her right before it."
But the mate was not satisfied with the efforts of Burns, the seaman,
and took the oar from his hand.
Half buried in the whelming tide, the whale-boat dashed through the
waves towards the high cliffs of the rocky island. She had scarcely left
the brig before it broke in two in the middle; the foremast toppled over
into the water, and the after portion disappeared in the waves, as they
were lighted up by the repeated flashes from the dark clouds.
"We shall be dashed in pieces on the rocks!" exclaimed the mate, as he
turned his gaze from the remaining portion of the Waldo to the lofty
cliffs on the island.
"No; there is a beach under the rocks," replied Wallbridge. "I know the
place very well. Let her go ahead, and we must take our chances in the
surf."
"If there is a beach we shall do very well," replied the mate, pulling
vigorously at his oar to keep the boat before the wind; for he knew
that, if she fell off into the trough of the sea, she would be instantly
swamped.
But the distance was short between the ledge and the shore, and in a
moment more the boat struck heavily upon the gravelly beach, which was,
at this time of tide, not more than ten feet wide, and the waves already
rolled over it against the perpendicular rocks. With one consent, the
four men leaped from the boat into the surf. The mate carried the
painter on shore with him, and endeavored to swing around the boat,
which had come stern foremost to the beach. Burns imprudently moved out
into the surf to assist him, when the undertow from a heavy wave swept
him far out into the angry sea. In the mean time, Wallbridge and Harvey
Barth retreated towards the cliff. The tide was still rising, and the
beach afforded but partial shelter from the fury of the billows.
"This is no place for us," said Wallbridge, gloomily.
"I don't think it is," drawled Harvey. "We can't stand it here a great
while."
"But I will make sure of one thing," added the late passenger of the
Waldo. "I have twelve hundred dollars in gold in my hand, and it may be
the means of drowning me."
"Gold isn't of much use to us just now," sighed Harvey, indifferently,
as he glanced around him to ascertain if there were any means of escape
to the high rocks above; but no man could climb the steep cliff beside
him.
"I worked two years in Cuba for this money, and I don't like to lose
it," said Wallbridge. "But I don't mean to be drowned on account of it."
As he spoke he kneeled down on the beach, and scooped out of the sand
and gravel a hole about a foot deep, into which he dropped the bag of
gold.
"Under that overhanging rock," said he, fixing in his mind the locality
of his "hidden treasure;" "I shall be able to find it again when I want
it."
"I hope you will," answered Harvey Barth, looking up at the mark
indicated by his companion.
It was little he cared for gold then, and leaving the owner of the
treasure to consider more particularly the place where he had buried it,
he walked along under the cliff in search of some shelter from the
billows, which every moment drenched him in their spray. He moved on
some distance, till an angle in the cliff carried it out into the deep
water. He had come to the end of the beach, and he halted there in
despair. He felt that there was no alternative but to lie down and die
in the angry waves, for it was better to be drowned than to be dashed to
pieces on the jagged rocks. A bright flash of lightning, followed by a
fearful crash of thunder, as though the bolt had struck upon the land
near him, illuminated the scene for an instant. That flash, which might
have carried death and destruction in its path on the land, kindled a
new hope in the bosom of Harvey Barth, for it revealed to him an opening
in the angle of the rock. The cliff seemed to have been rent asunder,
and a torrent of fresh water was pouring down through it from the high
land above.
Harvey entered the opening, walking with difficulty over the large,
loose stones, rounded by the flow of the stream. The ascent was steep,
and the torrent of water that poured down through the ravine increased
the trials of its passage. But the wrecked wanderer felt that he was
safe from the fury of the savage waves. When he came to a flat rock,
only a few feet above the beach, upon which he could step out of the
little torrent, he paused to rest and recover his breath. Then he
thought of his companions in misery, exposed to the peril of the
sweeping billows and the more terrible rocks. He was not a selfish man,
and the thought caused him to retrace his steps to the entrance of the
ravine. Here he halted, and shouted with all his might to his shipmates;
but his voice was weak at the best, and no response came to his cries.
The dashing of the sea and the roaring of the tempest drowned the sound.
After finding a place of safety, he could not leave his companions to
perish. The tide was still rising, increased and hastened by the furious
hurricane which drove the waters in this direction. The beach was more
dangerous than when he had crossed it before, but the steward, in spite
of his weakness, reached the spot where the passenger had buried his
gold. Neither the mate nor Wallbridge was there; and the whale-boat had
also disappeared. With the greatest difficulty, Harvey succeeded in
regaining the opening in the rock. Several times he was knocked down by
the billows, and once he was thrown with considerable force against the
cliff. Bruised and exhausted, he seated himself on the flat rock again,
to recover his breath and the little strength he had left.
Wallbridge and the mate were appalled at the fate of Burns, though they
did not know that a broken spar from the wreck had struck him on the
head, and deprived him of the use of his powers. The whale-boat was
hauled around, head to the beach, but the waves swept it far up towards
the rocks, which threatened its destruction in a few moments more. Then
they missed Harvey, and both of them shouted his name with all the vigor
of their strong lungs; but the steward did not hear them.
"The sea has swept him away," said the mate, sadly.
"Or dashed him against the rocks," added Wallbridge. "It will be the
same with us in a short time. I didn't think the tide was up so far, or
I should have known better than to land here."
"I would rather take my chance on the wreck," continued Mr. Carboy, who
still held the painter of the boat. "I think it is moderating a
little."
"Not much; but do you think we can get off in the whale-boat?" asked
Wallbridge.
"We may but it is death to stay here ten minutes longer."
"That's true; for common tides rise to the foot of the rocks. We can't
stand up much longer."
"Now's our time!" exclaimed the mate. "The wind lulls a little. It can't
be any worse on the wreck than it is here."
The hurricane had certainly subsided a little, and with a vigorous
effort the two stout men shoved the whale-boat down the steep declivity
into the deep water. Keeping her head to the sea, with the oars in their
hands they leaped into the boat as a receding billow carried her far out
from the beach.
"Now, give way!" cried the mate; and with lusty strokes they pulled
against the advancing sea.
The boat was light, and the two rowers were powerful men, thoroughly
experienced in the handling of boats under the most trying
circumstances. They succeeded in getting clear of the beach, however,
only by the favoring lull of the tempest. They pulled dead to windward,
for Mr. Carboy dared not risk the boat in the trough of the sea, even
for a moment. This direction brought them, after a desperate pull, to
the wreck of the Waldo, only the forward part of which remained. This
portion appeared to the mate to be wedged in between a couple of rocks,
now hidden by the waves, for it did not rise and fall with the billows.
He stated his belief to Wallbridge, and they agreed that the wreck would
be the safest place for them. The passenger spoke of a good harbor but a
short distance to the northward, but Mr. Carboy declared that the
whale-boat would be swamped in the attempt to reach it.
Under the lee of the wreck, the sea was comparatively mild, and the mate
fastened the painter of the boat to the bobstay of the brig. Without
much difficulty, the two men climbed to the forecastle of the vessel,
which was still above the water. Doubtless Mr. Carboy was right in
regard to the position of the wreck on the rocks, but the sea dashed
furiously against the broken end of the hulk. The hurricane renewed its
violence, and as the tide rose, the waves swept over the two men. But
the rising sea did worse than this for them. It loosened the cargo,
consisting in part of hogsheads of molasses; and they rolled down into
the deep water. Relieved of this weight, the tide lifted the wreck from
between the rocks; the hulk rolled over and disappeared beneath the
white-crowned waves, dragging the whale-boat down with it. The movement
was so sudden that the mate and the passenger had no time to save
themselves, if there had been any means of doing so, and they went down
with the wreck. After a hard struggle for life, they perished.
Harvey Barth alone was spared, and he rested on the flat rock in the
ravine till his wasted breath and meagre strength were regained. Then he
continued his weary ascent till he reached the summit of the cliffs,
where he saw the boat made fast to the wreck, and the mate and passenger
clinging to the forestay. In the next glare of the lightning, with a
thrill of horror, he saw the hulk topple over and disappear in the mad
waves.
Harvey Barth, the sick man, was the only one of the dozen persons on
board of the Waldo who was left alive in half an hour after the
hurricane burst upon her; and she was not the only vessel that foundered
or was dashed upon the rocks in that terrific storm, nor the only one
from whose crew only a single life was spared. The tempest and the
lightning had done their work; and when it was done, the dark clouds
rolled away, the lightning glared no more, the winds subsided, and the
sea was calm again. Later in the night, the wind came cold and fresh
from the north-west, and swept away from the narrow beach the wounded
body of Burns, and nearly every vestige of the wreck. The rising sun of
the next morning revealed hardly a trace of the terrible disaster.