THE LOSS OF THE SIREN.
From that day, Ellen's recovery, though a sad trial of patience both to
the young invalid and her affectionate nurses, was surely progressive,
without any of those painful relapses which had so tried Mr. Maitland's
skill before. She no longer shrunk from the society of her relations,
receiving Caroline's and Miss Harcourt's many kind attentions with
surprise indeed, for she could not imagine what could so have altered
their feelings toward her, but with that evident gratitude and pleasure,
which encourages a continuance of kindness. Emmeline was always kind,
but it was indeed happiness to feel she might talk with and share her
amusements, as in former days; and that, instead of thinking she ought
not to receive her aunt's affection, the only thing she asked in return
was her full confidence. The inexpressible rest to poor Ellen which that
conversation gave is not to be described. It was so blessed, so
soothing, that it seemed too unnatural to last, and the secret dread
that her uncle would not feel toward her and Edward as her aunt did was
its only alloy. Edward, too, was cheerful, and almost happy when with
her; and a long conversation with Mr. Howard, which that worthy man
insisted upon having as soon as she was strong enough, to remove the
false impressions which his severity had given, and which never ceased
to grieve and reproach him, caused his almost daily visits to be
anticipated by her with as much gladness as they had before brought
dread.
"And now that anxiety for Ellen is at end, I must have you take more
care of yourself, Mrs. Hamilton. Your husband's last injunctions, were,
that I should never pass a week without calling once or twice at Oakwood
to know how all was going on, and what would he say to me if he could
see you now?"
"He little thought how my strength would be tried, my good friend, and
so will quite acquit you. I assure you that, physically, I am perfectly
well"--(the worthy doctor shook his head most unbelievingly)--"but even
with one great anxiety calmed, there remains another, which every week
increases. It is more than double the usual time of hearing from my
husband. We have never had any answer to the letters detailing Ellen's
danger and Edward's return, and the answers have been due a full month."
"But the weather has been so unusually tempestuous, it may have been
impossible for the Siren to ply to and fro from Feroe to Scotland, as
Hamilton wished, and no ships are likely to touch at those islands in
the winter. I really think you need not be anxious on that score; none
but Arthur Hamilton's head could have contrived your hearing as
regularly from such an outlandish place as you have done. No news is
good news, depend upon it. He may be anxious on your account, and
returning himself."
"God forbid!" answered Mrs. Hamilton, turning very pale; "better the
anxiety of not hearing from him than the thought of his being at sea in
this season."
Oakwood had resumed its regular happy aspect, though Ellen was still
up-stairs. Morris and Ellis had once more the happiness of their beloved
mistress's superintendence, and proud were they both, as if Caroline had
been their own child, to show all she had done, and so unostentatiously,
to save her mother trouble when she had been too anxious to think of any
thing but Ellen; and the mother's heart swelled with a delicious feeling
of gratitude to Him who, if in making her so acutely sensible of her
solemn responsibility had deepened and extended _anxiety_, had yet in
the same measure heightened and spiritualized _joy_. The fruit was
indeed worth the nurture, though it might have been often washed with
tears. Intensely anxious as she felt herself, as did also Mr. Howard and
Mr. Maitland, and, in fact, all Arthur Hamilton's friends, she yet tried
to sustain the spirits of her children, for the young men had evidently
grown anxious on the subject too. It was not unlikely that the seas
round Feroe, always stormy, should prevent any ship leaving the island,
and the young people eagerly grasped the idea: so painful is it to youth
to realize a cause for anxiety; but even they, at times, grew
unconsciously sad and meditating, as the usually joyous season of
Christmas and New Year passed, and still there was no letter. Ellen and
Edward both in secret dreaded the arrival of the answer to the latter's
confession; but still their affection for Mrs. Hamilton was too
powerful to permit any thought of self interfering with the wish that
her anxiety might be calmed.
In January the weather changed; the tremendous winds gave place to an
almost unnatural calm, and to such excessive mildness and closeness of
atmosphere, that it affected the health of many who were strong, and not
only made Ellen very languid, but frequently recalled those dreadful
headaches which were in themselves an illness. Business called Mr.
Howard to Dartmouth near the end of the month, and he prevailed on
Edward to accompany him, for whenever his sister was more than usually
suffering his gloom redoubled. The first few days were so fine that the
change renovated him; Mr. Howard declared it was the sight of old ocean,
and Edward did not deny it; for though it was good for the permanence of
his repentance and resolution to amend, to have the influence of his
home sufficiently long, his spirit inwardly chafed at his detention, and
yearned to be at sea again, and giving proof of his determination to
become indeed a British sailor.
The third day of their visit, the lull and heaviness of the air
increased so strangely and closely, for January, as to seem almost
portentous. Edward and Mr. Howard lingered on the beach; the
well-practiced eye of the former tracing in many little things unseen to
landsmen, the slow, but sure approach of a fearful storm.
"It is strange for the season, but there is certainly electricity in the
air," he said, directing Mr. Howard's attention to ridges of
white-fringed clouds floating under the heavens, whose murky hue was
becoming denser and denser; and ever and anon, as lashed by some as yet
silent and invisible blast, the ocean heaved and foamed, and gave sure
evidence of approaching fury; "there will be, I fear, a terrible storm
to-night; and look at those birds" (several sea-gulls were skimming
along the waves almost bathing their white plumage in the blackened
waters) "strange how they always herald tempest! Emmeline would call
them spirits of the blast, reveling in the destruction it foretells!"
"It is approaching already," rejoined Mr. Howard, as a long hollow blast
moaned and shivered round them, followed by the roar of a mountainous
wave bursting on the beach. "God have mercy on all exposed to its fury!"
and he gladly turned more inland, while Edward remained watching its
progress with an almost pleasurable feeling of excitement, only wishing
he could but be on the sea, to enjoy it as such a storm deserved to be.
As the day drew to a close it increased, and as darkness set in, its
fury became appalling. Blasts, long and loud as the reverberation of
artillery, succeeded one another with awful rapidity, tearing up huge
trees by the roots, and tiles from the roofs. Now and then, at distant
intervals, blue lightning played through the black heavens, betraying
that thunder had mingled with the wind, though it was impossible to
distinguish the one sound from the other; and as the gusts passed
onward, streaks of white and spots of strange unnatural blue gleamed
through the gloom for a moment's space, leaving deeper darkness as they
disappeared. The ocean, lashed to wildest fury, rolled in huge mountains
of troubled waters, throwing up showers of snowy foam, contrasting
strangely with the darkness of earth and heaven, and bursting with a
sound that deadened for the time even the wild roar of the blast. To
read or even to converse, in their comfortable quarters in the hotel,
which overlooked the sea, became as impossible to Mr. Howard as to
Edward. About eleven o'clock, however, the wind suddenly veered and
lulled, only sending forth now and then a long sobbing wail, as if
regretful that its work of destruction was even checked; but the sea
raged with equal fury, presenting a spectacle as magnificent, as awful,
and giving no appearance of a calm. A sharp report sounded suddenly from
the sea--whether it was the first, or that others might have been lost
in the tumult of the winds and waves, who might answer? Another, and
another, at such rapid intervals, that the danger was evidently
imminent, and Edward started to his feet. Again--and he could bear it no
longer. Hurriedly exclaiming, "They are signals of distress and close at
hand! Something must be done; no sailor can sit still, and see sailors
perish!" he rushed to the beach, closely followed by Mr. Howard, who was
resolved on preventing any mad attempt. Crowds of fishermen and townsmen
had congregated on the beach, drawn by that fearful sound, which, by the
light from the guns seemed scarcely half a mile distant; and yet so
perilous was the present appearance of the ocean, that to go to their
assistance seemed impossible. Suddenly, however, Edward's voice
exclaimed, with the glad and eager tone of perfect confidence, "They can
be saved!--a strong boat and two willing rowers, and I will undertake to
reach the vessel, and bring the crew safe to shore. Who among you," he
continued turning eagerly to the group of hardy fishermen, "will be my
assistants in this act of common humanity? who possesses willing hearts
and able hands, and will lend them?"
"No one who cares for his life!" was the sullen answer from one of those
he addressed, and the rest stood silent, eyeing, half disdainfully half
admiringly, the slight figure of the young sailor, revealed as it was,
in the fitful light of the many torches scattered by the various groups
along the beach. "It is well for boys to talk, we can not expect old
heads on young shoulders; but not a boat with my consent leaves the
harbor to-night; it would be willful murder."
"I tell you I will stake my life on the venture," answered Edward, his
passion rising high. "Am I speaking to sailors, and can they hesitate
when they hear such sounds? Give me but a boat, and I will go by myself:
and when you need aid, may you find those to give it! you will scarce
dare ask it, if that vessel perish before your eyes. Lend me a boat, I
say, fitted for such a sea, and the lender shall be rewarded handsomely.
If there be such risk, I ask none to share it; my life is my own, and I
will peril it."
It would have made a fine scene for a painter, that young, slight form
and boyish face, surrounded by those weather-beaten men, every
countenance expressing some different emotion, yet almost all unwilling
admiration; the torches' glare, so lurid on the pitchy darkness; the
sheets of foam, rising and falling like showers of dazzling snow; the
craggy background; and, out at sea, the unfortunate vessel, a perfect
wreck, struggling still with the fast-rising waters. Mr. Howard saw all,
but with no thought of the picturesque, his mind was far otherwise
engaged.
"By Neptune! but your honor shall not go alone! I have neither parent,
nor sister, nor wife to pipe for me, if I go; so my life must be of less
moment than yours, and if you can so peril it, why should not I?"
exclaimed a stalwart young fisherman, advancing, and Edward eagerly
grasped his rough hand, conjuring him to get his boat at once, there was
not a moment to lose; but the example was infectious, and an old man
hastily stepped forward, declaring the youngsters had taught him his
duty, and he would do it.
"Great God! what do they say?" exclaimed Edward, as his younger
companion hastened down the beach to bring his boat to the leeward of
the cliff, to launch it more securely, and a rumor ran through the
crowds, whence arising it was impossible to discover. "The
Siren--Captain Harvey--my uncle's ship!--and he must be in her--she
would never leave Feroe without him. What foundation is there for this
rumor? let me know, for God's sake!"
But none could tell more than that a vessel, entering the harbor just
before the gale, had hailed the Siren, about twenty miles distant, and
she seemed laboring heavily, and in such a distressed state that a very
little would finish her. Not a word escaped Edward's lips which grew for
the moment blanched as marble. Mr. Howard to whom the rumor had brought
the most intense agony, for not a doubt of its truth would come to
relieve him, was at his side, grasping his hand, and murmuring,
hoarsely--
"Edward, my poor boy, must your life be periled too?--both--both--this
is awful!"
"Let me but save _him_, and if I perish it will be in a good cause. Tell
aunt Emmeline, I know she will comfort my poor Ellen; and that the boy
she has saved from worse misery than death, did all he could to save her
husband! and if I fail"--he stopped, in strong emotion, then
added--"give Ellen this, and this," he cut off a lock of his hair with
his dirk, and placed it and his watch in Mr. Howard's trembling
hand.--"And now, my friend, God bless you and reward you, too!" He threw
himself a moment in Mr. Howard's arms, kissed his cheek, and, darting
down the beach, leaped into the boat, which was dancing like a nutshell
on the water. It was several minutes, ere they could succeed in getting
her off, the waves seeming determined to cast her back; but they were
fairly launched at length, and then they heeded not that one minute they
rode high on a mountain wave, seeming as if nothing could save them from
being dashed in the abyss below; the next were buried in a deep valley,
surrounded by huge walls of water, threatening to burst and overwhelm
them. For a boat to live in such a sea at all seemed miraculous; and old
Collins always declared that unless some angel sat at the helm with
Edward, no human arm could have taken them in safety. If it were an
angel, it was the pure thought, the faith-winged prayer, that he might
be the instrument in the Eternal's hand, of turning aside death and
misery from that beloved home, in which even his errors had been met
with _love_, and conquered by _forgiveness_.
With every effort, and they were such as to bid the perspiration stream
down the face and arms of those strong men, and almost exhaust Edward,
for he took an oar in turn, it was full an hour from their leaving the
shore before they reached the ship. She had ceased firing, for by the
lights on shore they had discovered the boat's departure, and watched
her progress by the lantern at her head, as only those can watch who
feel, one short hour more, and their ship will float no longer!
Collins was spokesman, for Edward, as they grappled the boat alongside,
had sunk down for the moment powerless by the helm; roused, however,
effectually by the answer--
"The Siren--bound to Dartmouth--from Feroe--owner Arthur Hamilton,
passenger--now on board--nine in crew."
"In with you all then--that is Captain Harvey's voice, I'll be sworn;
the rumor was only too true."
"Ay, old Collins!" returned the captain; "we thought to perish in sight
of our own homes; now, Mr. Hamilton, not a man will stir till you are
safe!"
His companion leaped into the boat without reply, and, sinking on one of
the benches, drew his cloak closely round his face. Peril was indeed
still around him, but compared with the--even to that Heaven-directed
heart--terrible struggle of beholding death, rising slowly but surely
round him in the water-filling ship, almost within sight and sound of
his home, his beloved ones, the mere _hope_ of life seemed almost
overpowering. The crew of the hapless Siren quickly deserted her.
Captain Harvey was the last to descend, and, as he did so, a block of
iron, loosened from its place, fell cornerwise, and struck sharply on
Edward's forehead, almost stunning him for the moment, as he watched the
captain's descent. He felt the blood slowly trickling down his temple
and cheek; but he was not one to be daunted by pain: he resumed his
station at the helm in unbroken silence, only speaking when directions
were absolutely necessary, and then only in a few brief sailor-terms.
They had scarcely proceeded a third of their way, when the waters boiled
and foamed as tossed by some strange whirlpool, and it required all
Edward's address and skill as steersman to prevent the frail boat from
being drawn into the vortex. The cause was soon displayed, and every
heart shuddered, for ten minutes later, and help would indeed have been
in vain. The unfortunate vessel had sunk--been swallowed up in those
rushing waters; the suction of so large a mass, producing for a brief
interval the effect of a whirlpool. The silence of awe and of intense
thankfulness, fell on the heart of every man, and more than all on his,
who had so far recovered his first emotion as to gaze wonderingly and
admiringly on the boyish figure at the helm, whose voice was utterly
unknown, and whose features the fitful light, and the youth's steadfast
gaze on his rowers, prevented his tracing with any certainty.
The crowds had increased on the shore, watching with intense eagerness
the return of the boat; but the expectation was too deep for sound,
silence almost portentous reigned. A huge sea had concealed her for
several minutes, and Mr. Howard, who during these two long hours had
remained spell-bound on the beach, groaned aloud in his agony; again she
was visible, driven on with fearful velocity by the tide, nearer, nearer
still. He thought he could distinguish the figure of his friend: he was
sure he could hear the voice of Edward, urging, commanding, directing a
landing somewhere, in contradiction to the opinion of others. They were
within a dozen yards of the shore, but still not a sound of gratulation
was heard. Every eye was fixed, as in the fascination of terror, on a
wave in the distance, increasing in size and fury as it rapidly
approached. It neared the boat--it stood impending over the frail thing
as a mighty avalanche of waters--it burst; the boat was seen no longer,
and a wild and terrible cry sounded far and near along the beach!