THE SHIPWRECK
“To hear
The roaring of the raging elements,
To know all human skill, all human strength,
Avail not; to look around, and only see
The mountain wave incumbent with its weight,
Of bursting waters o’er the reeling bark,—
Oh! God, this is indeed a dreadful thing.” —Southey.
“In breeze, or gale, or storm,
Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime
Dark-heaving; boundless, endless and sublime.
Each zone
Obeys thee, thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.” —Byron.
In a moment, however, the brave girl struggled to her feet. Her first
thought was of her aunt. She was about groping her way down to the
cabin, for the purpose of seeking Mrs. Warren, when the latter’s voice
was heard, faint with terror, calling on her name.
“Here I am, aunt,” answered Kate, as cheerfully as she could. She
held out her hand, which Mrs. Warren eagerly caught.
At any other time Kate’s sense of the ludicrous would have overcome
her at the figure of her aunt. The good lady had only had time to huddle
on the most necessary garments, and some of these were even awry; while
the elegancies of the toilet, about which the stately dame was so
particular, were totally neglected for once. It was the fashion in those
days, for elderly matrons, to wear a cushion on the top of the head,
over which to comb the hair; but this was now wholly wanting to Mrs.
Warren, and her hair, usually so precisely arranged, and so carefully
powdered, hung in tangled elf-locks about her face. The whole of her
person and dress, moreover, was dripping, like that of some Triton just
risen from the sea. Could the excellent old creature have seen her image
reflected in a glass, she would have fainted outright from shame and
outraged propriety. But mortal fear had now so conquered every other
sensation, that when she rushed into her niece’s arms, it was with the
paramount feeling that in Kate’s heroic character was the only hope at
this frightful juncture.
“Hold fast under the lee of this bulwark,” said the niece. “It’s
the safest place I can find.”
Her aunt mechanically obeyed, without reply, for her increasing fear had
now deprived her of the power of speech.
The tremendous shock with which the ship struck, had snapped off the
masts as if they had been pipe-stems, and Kate’s next thought, after
having temporarily provided for the safety of her aunt, was what was to
be done with the wreck of spars and rigging, which, beating against the
vessel’s sides, threatened to crush them like egg-shells. Suddenly,
through the gloom, she saw a figure, armed with an axe, creep along by
the larboard bulwarks, until it had attained a favorable position, when
it began cutting away with rapid strokes at the hamper. In this person
she had no difficulty in recognizing the captain, who continued
skillfully and rapidly dealing his blows, though often half submerged in
water, until the confused mass began to give way, and rushing into the
boiling vortex, was swept down to leeward. Other strokes from other axes
were heard simultaneously, and a moment after the remaining masts, with
their complicated yards and canvass, went off also into the wild
maelstrom.
While some of the officers and men had been thus engaged in freeing the
wreck, others had turned their attention to giving warning of their
situation, in case assistance was near. Accordingly, the masts had
scarcely been whirled away by the tumultous surge, when a bright jet of
flame shot out from the starboard side of the ship; and the solemn boom
of a signal gun went forth across the night. Discharge followed
discharge, at regular periods, the crew listening eagerly, during the
interval, to detect an answering sound, if any should be made. The
profound darkness in which the vessel was enveloped was dissipated, for
an instant, at each discharge; and the anxious faces of the crew, the
desolate decks, and the vexed ocean, stood out, as if revealed by a
lightning-flash; but the sudden gleam passed as quickly as it came, a
darkness followed, apparently the deeper from the blaze of light; and
horror, gloom, and dread fell again on all.
For a considerable time the signal-guns continued to be fired, but when
the sailors found that no answer came, a recklessness seized them, the
offspring of despair acting on brutal, animal natures. They first began
to murmur in undertones; then to refuse doing duty; and finally they
left the gun in a body, swearing that there was no use in further
efforts. In vain the captain, rushing among them, endeavored to bring
them back to discipline; they either sullenly slunk away or openly
defied him; and he soon found that he could not even count on his mates,
but would probably be murdered if he persisted in his endeavor. In a
little while everything was in confusion. The crew, breaking into the
spirit-room, speedily became intoxicated, and all semblance even of
order was now lost.
While some of the seamen were still lingering in the spirit-room, a cry
arose that the ship was breaking up; and immediately a rush was made for
the boats by the intoxicated crew. Here again the captain attempted to
interpose his authority; but he was knocked down, trampled on, and
indeed came near losing his life. It was soon found that but one boat
remained fit to use, the others having been stove. Into this the
rebellious crew tumbled pell-mell, the mates following; and such was the
hurry of the affrighted fugitives, that they forgot to secure either
water or provisions.
The whole of these events, from the ceasing to fire signal-guns up to
the present period, had followed each other in the quickest succession.
Indeed they appeared to have consumed less time than we have taken to
describe them.
The boat had been filled and manned, but just as it was pushing off, a
voice cried—
“Captain Powell, you may come aboard, if you like”
“No,” was the prompt answer; “I’ll stick by the ship, you
mutinous rascals.”
“As you please,” answered the speaker. “But there are the
passengers. Ladies, will _you_ come aboard? Make up your minds quick.”
At this the captain rushed to where Kate was standing.
“Don’t go,” he cried, eagerly. “They’ll all be drowned. No
boat can live five minutes.”
Kate hesitated. She was inexperienced, and knew not what to do. On the
one hand it seemed inconceivable that so many persons would rush to what
they ought to be aware would be certain destruction. On the other, the
tone of absolute conviction in which the captain spoke, added to the
high opinion she had formed of his seamanship and good judgment,
inclined her to follow the advice.
“Quick!” cried the speaker from the boat, while other voices
murmured impatiently.
She still hesitated, though her aunt pulled her arm, as if to go. Any
further decision, however, was not permitted to her, for, the next
instant, another voice from the boat cried, sharply—
“We can’t wait all night; push off, push off.”
Other voices, almost simultaneously, seconded this impatient cry, and
the boat, on the instant, sunk away from the side of the ship, to be
seen, the moment after, rising on a wave a good pistol-shot distant.
“Madmen!” muttered the captain between his teeth.
He had scarcely spoken, when a gigantic roller overtook the boat, still
dimly visible as she floated broadside on, for in the haste and
confusion of putting off all the men had not yet got out their oars, and
consequently her head had not been pulled around.
A cry from the captain, and a stifled shriek from Kate burst forth, for
the wave, rising like a moving hill, was now seen overtopping the boat
for one brief moment, while a crowd of horror-struck countenances, whose
looks Kate never forgot to her dying day, gazed up at it from below; and
then, with a roar as of a hungry lion descending upon its prey, the
enormous billow plunged headlong upon the miserable wretches. In that
roar were mingled shrieks such as made the blood of the listeners
curdle, the last wild cries, and the agonizing prayers of dying men. A
whirlpool of foam was all that could be seen at first, after the boat
had disappeared, out soon an oar floated to the surface, then a hat,
then a struggling figure or two, and then faces upturned wildly in the
death-struggle. But the next surge that swept over the spot carried them
under again, or bore them out of sight into the gloom ahead.
A solemn silence prevailed for a while, broken at last by the captain,
who said—
“God pity them!” And after a while, he added. “It is strange that
men will be so foolhardy! But when presence of mind is lost, even the
bravest become crazed.”
“Is there any hope even for us!” said Kate, after a pause. “Where
are we?”
The captain looked down on her with admiration, at the firm tone in
which she spoke.
“While there is life there is hope,” he answered. “If these old
timbers last till morning, we’ll be able to see where we are; and, if
near the coast, perhaps help may be had.”
“You are ignorant, then, exactly where we’ve struck?”
“Yes. My reckoning must have been false. I thought myself more than a
day’s sail from the coast, and was thunderstruck when the look-out
cried, in the middle of the night, that there were breakers ahead.”
“You were on deck?”
“I never go below, when near the end of a voyage, even if I think
everything safe. As soon as he spoke, I leaped into the rigging, and
there sure enough, I saw the white water flashing near at hand. I hauled
the ship close on a wind at once, and began to crowd the canvass upon
her.”
“It was the hurry and noise of making more sail that woke us.”
“It was of no use, however,” continued the captain, acknowledging
the interruption by an affirmative nod. “Do all we could, we could
just hold our own; and very soon the main-topsail, on which I had placed
my chief reliance, split and went to leeward. She fell off instantly,
striking with force enough, one would have thought, to shiver her into
atoms. The masts went overboard, and you know the rest. Poor thing!”
he added, mournfully, apostrophizing the vessel, “she’s carried me
across the Atlantic, this is now the tenth time, but she’ll never do
it again. Ah!” he continued, with natural emotion, “I little fancied
we’d part so.”
“It was just as the sail went to ribbons,” said Kate, after a pause,
for she respected the feelings of the master too much to proceed at
once, “that I came on deck. You said that, when day broke, succor
perhaps might be found. But we may be some distance from land; for, if I
recollect—I was born in New Jersey—there are bars far out at sea.”
“You are right,” answered the captain. “The shore, too, is but a
sand-bank, all along that coast; and one separated, by miles of shallow
lagoons, from the fast land. If we’ve struck anywhere below Squam,
we’ll not be likely to get aid, even if the high tide has carried us
over the outer bars and landed us right on the shore. Few, or none of
the beaches, if I’ve heard rightly, are inhabited. But let us hope
we’re nigher the Hook, for, in that case, we must be close in, and
there are farm-houses and fishing-cabins there, in sight of the sea.”
He did not add, that, even if this should prove to be the case, it was
extremely problematical whether assistance could be rendered to them,
while the waves ran so high. His secret opinion was, that the chance of
escape was the very slightest, for he had no faith in the ship’s
timbers holding together till the gale subsided, even if they did till
morning. But, brave as Kate was, he shrank from acquainting one so
young, and who had every prospect of a happy life before her, that a
speedy death was almost inevitable. Besides, he noticed the extreme
terror of her aunt, who could, indeed, scarcely hold to her support, so
unnerved was she by the peril of their situation.
For, even during this conversation, both the speakers had occasionally
been almost carried from their feet. Nearly every surge swept more or
less over the ship. Twice the master had to interpose to save Kate from
being prostrated; and still more frequently his services were required
in behalf of her aunt. Occupying a position between the two women, he
was fortunately able to afford instant aid to either. Meantime, the
storm showed no symptoms of subsiding. The rain still fell in sheets,
often stinging the bare hands of the victims like hail. The wind
shrieked as if the sea had temporarily given up its wicked dead, who
gibbered as they rushed past in the gloom.
The seas also seemed to run still higher. They came trooping on, fast
and thick as hungry wolves; rushed by with a howl that fairly appalled
the listeners; or leaped and snarled about the ship, as if eager for
their prey, and grudging every moment of delay. Now and then a roller,
more colossal than its predecessors, would sweep the whole length of the
deck, making a breach completely over the vessel, whose every timber
quivered as if she was about to part.
The darkness, all this time, was palpable. Often it seemed as if the low
sky and the upheaved waves were about to commingle above the doomed
ship; and always, in looking seaward, the boundary line between the two
was lost in a chaos of obscurity scarcely a hundred feet off.