under our stern. I missed my friend sadly, having formed no new
intimacy; for there was not one on board, in my estimation, to supply
his place. He had formed my mind for higher enjoyments than could have
been relished or shared with me by any of my shipmates; yet we had on
board a mass of talent, in all its variety, debased, no doubt, by evil
passions and low dissipation. There were, indeed, among us some rough
but honest, unsophisticated children of nature; but they were like
jewels dug from the mine, placed in a package with flints, and shaken on
a rough road, losing by attrition their asperities, but taking no
polish. A few, too, there were who had, with care, been bred by their
parents for higher objects, but had sunk from their station, by vice and
folly, even to a lower level than the standard of our crew. I had thus
small choice, and fell back on the memory of the pleasures I had enjoyed
in the conversation of my friend. We had been out from port about three
weeks, without seeing anything save one or two of our merchant ships,
and one from Liverpool bound for New York, with passengers, from the
latter of which we impressed six stout young men, who were on their way
for the New World. Such are the miseries of war, that liberty is invaded
and all human ties severed by the necessity it engenders. The case of
one of these young men was truly hard. He was on his way to New York, to
take possession of some property left him by an uncle, who had died
there the year before; and his intention was to remain and settle upon
his late uncle's farm. A few days before he had left his native village,
in Ayrshire, with a young woman whom he had long loved, and at last
married. Their all had been expended in their passage money and outfit,
but young hope, love, and joy, were the companions of their voyage,
until our boat, under the command of our second lieutenant, appeared as
the demon that was to put these to flight. The crew and passengers were
mustered upon the deck, and many forced from their hiding-places, where
they had stowed themselves away below among the cargo. George Wilson
(for that was his name), fearful for his Jane, had remained by her side;
he was ordered into the boat; his supplications were as nothing; and the
tears and agonies of his young wife, if possible, less. It is a fact
worthy of the consideration of the philosopher, that the actions of men,
forced to perform an unpleasant duty, are often fretted into greater
harshness by appeals to feeling. We were short of hands, and, goaded by
necessity and duty, I verily believe that some who seized the youth more
sharply when he was attempted to be taken from them by the female, would
not have been slow to weep for her in other circumstances. There was
another case not less cruel--that of an only son of a family, called
Grant, who were emigrating, consisting of a father and mother, two
sisters, and this young lad, their hope and stay. He too was ordered
into the boat. I noticed the two as they came up the ship's side. It is
seldom that human nature is exhibited under such circumstances of
trial. Description, in such cases, is almost impertinent. It may be
doubted if the young men themselves are then conscious of one-half of
the evil that had befallen them: they were stupid with despair.
But I did not know what was awaiting myself. Some few days after this
event, we were standing under easy sail, listlessly gazing over the
immense expanse of waters, with all eyes sharp for a sail of some kind
or other, to break the monotony of our listless life. The look-out from
the mast-head sang out--
"Sail, ahoy!"
"Where away?" cried the officer on duty.
"Nor-west, on our lee-beam."
"Can you make her out?"
"Nay, sir; she is yet hull down; but she appears English rig, as her
top-royals rise out of the water."
"Stretch every inch of canvas; haul taut," cried the officer.
And her bows were crowded by the anxious seamen. There was now an object
to engage their attention, while the captain and officers kept their
glasses steady in the direction pointed out. In a short time, the points
of her masts and sails began to appear above the horizon, like black
patches, where the bounding line between the ocean and sky terminates.
We continued our progress for several hours, manifestly not making fast
on her; yet we could see that her sails rose almost imperceptibly out of
the water. She kept her distance so well that the captain became excited
and piqued. The wind blew pretty fresh, and we were both on a wind. She
was now made out to be either a privateer or a merchant vessel; but her
superior sailing led strongly to the opinion that she was the former.
Our deck guns were now run aft to raise our bows, and every effort that
skill could put to account was tried. Still we gained but slowly upon
her; and the afternoon was far advanced without our being satisfied of
more than that she was an enemy; for she must have seen us for some
hours, and our ensign was flying at our royal mast-head. Now great
masses of gorgeously-coloured clouds began to gather around the
brilliant luminary in the far west. It was close upon sundown, when the
darkness almost immediately follows in the twilightless latitudes. The
tall masts of the chase were between us and the brilliant scene, like a
dark spirit crossing the path of heaven. The captain, striking the
bulwarks of the quarterdeck with his hand, said aloud--
"I'd give a hundred guineas to have her within range of my long
eighteens at this moment, or when I shall see your beams again in the
morning." He looked to the broad disk of the sun, which was just sinking
in the dense mass of resplendent clouds, while his last rays shot like
long broad ribands over the edge of the highest, and undulated upon the
long swell that was raised by the breeze, which covered its top with
masses of white foam, resembling flocks at play in an immense meadow.
Anxious to obtain the last glance of this magnificent panorama, I had
got upon the nettings in which the hammocks are stowed, and stood so
long holding on by the mizzen-rattlins, absorbed in pleasing dreamy
thoughts, not unmixed with regret, that it was quite dark before I was
conscious of the change. My mind had again turned in upon itself, and
the lovely harvest nights of my regretted home came before me, more
chastened in their grandeur, but not the less lovely on that account.
Wilson and Grant were conversing in whispers near the spot where I
stood, talking of their blighted hopes, as if they felt that nature, in
the grand aspect she now exhibited, looked lovely in mockery of their
woes. We still held on as we had done through the afternoon--the surges
rising and sprinkling our foredeck as we passed swiftly through the
waters, urged on by an increasing gale. Weary of my position, I was in
the act of descending to the deck, when, by some accident, I lost my
hold, and fell overboard, striking against the dead-eyes, and wounding
my tongue so severely in my fall that it was bit through. When I rose to
the surface, stunned and confused, the water was hissing in my ears, and
my mouth full of blood. I attempted to call out for help; but my efforts
were vain. My tongue was unfit for its office; I only uttered
unintelligible sounds, not to be distinguished amidst the noise of the
waves. Still hope was strong in me, for I could hear the cries on deck,
"A man overboard!" though I could distinguish no object in the darkness.
The sounds became faint and more faint. The vessel's way was so great,
she shot from the spot like a bird; and I could at intervals see the
lights that they had hung out as I rose to the top of the waves, which I
buffeted with all my energies. The frigate had evidently laid to. I
strove to make for the lights. I saw, far astern, a boat had been
lowered, and hope again braced my nerves. Could I have called out, I had
been saved; for I heard their voices shouting for me, and even the plash
of their oars; but I was dumb. My tongue had almost instantly swelled so
as to fill my mouth; yet still I struggled amidst the waves to reach the
source of the sounds. At that moment they could not have been many yards
distant from me, if I could have judged from the distinctness with which
I heard them call. At last they ceased for a few minutes, as if in
consultation. Moment of horrid agony! I was in the grasp of inevitable
death, and those who were anxious for my rescue were within hail, and
that hail I could not utter. The struggle for life is not easily
terminated, and my exertions were almost superhuman. A flash, and the
report of a gun now fell on my ears, and it came as my doom; it was a
signal for the boats to return. I felt as if my arms had become
powerless. My heart failed, and I was sinking, when again the stroke of
the oars revived me. Again I attempted to shout--vain effort! "Poor
Elder!" I heard uttered by my shipmates, amidst the sweltering of the
waves that were about to engulf me. The oar-dip gradually died away--and
where was I?
Tired and exhausted, and almost suffocated by the water and blood that
flowed from my tongue, I turned upon my back, but sunk deep in the water
from the weight of my jacket and trousers, and thus floated at the will
of the swell, that often almost turned me over. I attempted to pray, but
could not collect my thoughts. All I could say was, "Lord be merciful to
me--a sinner!" I almost felt as if already dead; for all energy had
fled, both mental and bodily; and the little I did to place me on my
back, when the surge turned me over, seemed the involuntary efforts of
sinking nature. In this state I was aroused from my stupor by my coming
in contact with a hard body. I stretched forth one of my hands, which
had been crossed upon my breast, and grasped it with the energy of
despair. It was a large hencoop, which had been thrown over in the hope
that I might reach it until the boat arrived. New life began to revive
in my heart. I got upon it; and, taking my silk neckerchief from my
neck, which I fortunately had on when I fell, lashed myself to it. My
thoughts now became, in some degree, collected, and a slight beam
cheered the gloom of that fearful night, as I floated, a miserable speck
of human nature, on that boundless, unfathomable waste of troubled
waters. I thought that I was not forgot by my Creator, who had in his
mercy sent me this assurance in my last extremity, frail as it was, to
be the means of my deliverance. It was now that my whole soul poured
forth in prayer; and tears, not of anguish, but of love and gratitude,
flowed from my eyes, as I was drifted along before the wind, and tossed
by the waves. Through that long and dreadful night, nothing but this
pious feeling could have sustained me; for my limbs were benumbed and
cramped; my tongue still almost filled my mouth, and pained me.
Day at length dawned; but it did not bring with it renewed hope. I had
prayed and longed for it, in the expectation that I might be seen and
picked up by some vessel; but my heart did not rise in my bosom as the
beams of the sun shot over the waters around me. No sight met my eyes
but the sky, bounded at a short distance around by my low position in
the water. The breeze had considerably abated, the sea was much
smoother, and the fears of a lingering death by hunger and thirst began
to assail me. As the morning advanced, my faith in my deliverance began
to fail, and terrible thoughts crowded upon my mind. I tremble yet when
I revert to them. It seemed as if the great tempter of mankind had been
with me in this hour of trial, and whispered in my ears thoughts foreign
to my nature. I even began to doubt the mercy and goodness of God;
despair was again busy with me, and my clasp-knife suggested a short and
ready remedy for my misery. I clutched it in my hand, and opened it; but
my hand was stayed; my feelings had again undergone a revolution. I
dropped the instrument, and wept. I now thought I heard a rushing sound
in the air, and looked up. An immense albatross, with his huge extended
wings, was suspended over me, attracted by the strange sight I
exhibited. In any other situation, would I have been alarmed at the
sight of a bird? Now, my heart sunk when I saw the creature circling
high above my head. I thought he was examining the object previous to
his pouncing upon it. I thought he might strike my head, and my woes
would be ended: he might alight, and tear me piece by piece with his
strong-hooked bill. The terror of the waters was merged in that of my
new enemy; and such is man, that, though I had reconciled myself to the
one, I felt my courage and resolution rise within me when I saw a
visible and tangible enemy to grapple with. His circles round me became
more and more narrow; and, as he descended, I seized my open knife. This
precaution was, doubtless, unnecessary. The bird probably only wanted to
ascertain what strange inhabitant of the waters now appeared to it.
Still, however, it kept up its surveillance, receding now by large
circles, and again approaching me, only again to betake itself to a
greater distance, and again to renew its approach. I cannot tell how
long this continued: but a full hour, at least, must have passed--during
all which time I remained under the unaccountable apprehension that I
would, unless I defended myself, fall a victim to this gigantic bird of
prey. At length he took a long sweep, and I saw him sailing away on his
solitary journey, as if he despised the poor object he had left alone on
the waste of waters.
From the scorching rays upon the exposed part of my body, I began to
suffer much, and my thirst became excessive; my strength gradually
declined, and by the time the sun reached his meridian, I had again made
up my mind to my fate, commending my soul to its Maker, through my
Redeemer. I closed my eyes, as I thought, for ever upon all earthly
things. I had lain thus only a short time, when, raising myself up as
far as I could upon my raft, and gazing around upon what I thought was
to be my tomb, an involuntary cry of joy burst from me. There was a
vessel in sight; my weakness and misery were forgot. I saw them lower a
boat; and from that moment my mind became a tumult of thoughts and
sensations, which I have often since attempted in vain to analyse. The
horrors of my late situation were still upon me, and I could with
difficulty persuade myself that my delivery was real.
So exquisitely soothing was the feeling that now possessed me, that I
feared to open my eyes or move, lest I might break the spell that was
upon me, and awaken in the misery I had so lately endured. But I even
tired of enjoyment, for my position became irksome. I attempted to turn,
but the effort was so painful, that a groan escaped me. A gentle hand
wiped the perspiration from my brow, and inquired if I wished to be
turned. The sound of that voice was like a beam of light upon my
bewildered mind. I opened my eyes, and saw a young female in widow's
weeds standing by the side of my cot.
"Generous being," I said, "is it to you that I owe my deliverance?"
A sad smile passed over her face as she gazed at me, and said, "I am
happy to see you restored to recollection; but you must not speak." And
she gently withdrew from the side of the cot.
I wished much to make inquiries; but felt so weak that I did not
persist, but sunk again into the same dreamy state. It is of no use
detailing the events of the few days that were passed in this helpless
state. By the kind nursing of the female and the kindness of the
captain, I slowly recovered, and learned that, by the merest accident, I
had been discovered by them as I floated upon the waves; and that, had I
not been seen to move when I had raised myself up, they would have
passed me; and that I was now on board the Betsy and Ann of Leith, bound
from Quebec to that port. My heart overflowed with love and gratitude to
that merciful God who had delivered me; for what the kind captain called
accident, I felt in my heart was his loving-kindness; now I firmly
believe there is no such thing as what men call chance or accident. We
are taught by Scripture that all things are ordered and directed by the
Creator of the universe, from the fall of a sparrow to the fall of an
empire; and, in the eye of Omnipotence, nothing is great or small, all
being directed to one great end.
I was now able to leave my cot for a short time, but not the cabin. The
young widow was ever by my side, to minister to my wants. I felt much
for her sorrows, which she bore with pious resignation; but I had no
power to minister to her comforts as my gratitude prompted me, when I
observed her, as I lay in my cot, weeping in silence, when she thought
me asleep. It was the third day after I was picked up, as I sat in the
cabin, and felt myself much recovered, that I gave her an account of my
leaving home, and my adventures since. She sat and listened with
interest, and seemed much affected by my account of my friend, James
Walden. She sighed heavily as I proceeded, and her tears fell fast. When
I mentioned his untimely death, she uttered a piercing cry, and fell
insensible upon the floor. I cried loudly for help; and her servant and
the captain, who were on deck, came quickly to my aid. After some time
she recovered, but was so ill that she was forced to be put to bed by
her maid. Her mind seemed quite unsettled by what I had said of my
friend's death; for she spoke strangely and incoherently, unconscious of
what she uttered; often repeating, "James, I shall never see you more.
How could I hope? I wished, but dared not hope, humbled as I was--yet
frown not on me so; I am more to be pitied than hated." Thus she
continued during the greater part of the day.
Towards evening, she became more composed, but was so ill that she could
not leave the state-room without the support of her servant, which she
did contrary to the remonstrances of the captain; only replying--
"What is life now to me but a dreary blank? O that I were at rest under
these rolling waves! O Mr Elder! have you strength to tell me all you
know of James before my heart bursts?"
I could myself have wept; but her eyes were dry, yet heavy and languid;
her face pale as marble, with a ghastly composure upon it, more
heart-moving than clamorous grief. Again I went over every circumstance,
and concluded by regretting the prayer-book, as the only article I
valued, left on board. She heard me the second time without altering a
muscle of her face. When I finished, she said--
"I was Matilda Everard; these fingers wrote the name upon the
prayer-book, which I gave to James Everard, my cousin. Walden was the
name of his mother; he was an orphan, the ward of my father; I am an
only daughter. We were brought up together. I was my father's only
child--an heiress; he had little more than his own abilities to depend
upon. I was a spoiled child, thoughtless and volatile. I loved him then
as a brother. He was some years older than I; he loved me as never man
loved woman. I sported with his misery; for I knew not love. My father
discovered his passion, and banished him from the house. I regretted him
as a brother--no, not as a brother--as a playmate. His feelings of
honour were so high, he took no covert means to meet me again; but I saw
him often at church, and elsewhere. I used to kiss my hand to him; but
we never exchanged words. Urged by my father, I married a rich merchant.
He was much older than I. The cold, haughty, and money-making habits of
my husband first turned my thoughts to James. I contrasted the joy that
used to beam in his eyes, when I smiled upon him, with the indifference
of my husband; and my love, once that of a sister, became all that James
could have desired, had I been still a maid. Upon my marriage, James
disappeared. Neither my father nor any one else knew where he had gone.
It is now three years--long, long years--since then. Circumstances
called my husband to Quebec, that, if not looked after, might involve
him in ruin. Jealous and morose, he took me with him. Months of misery I
dragged on there. My husband sickened and died. I am now on my way to my
father; but I feel we shall never meet. My heart, I feel, is broken, and
life ebbs fast. Farewell! and may you be blessed for your kindness to
James. Bury me in the waves; I long to sleep by his side."
Having taken farewell of the captain, she retired, and we never saw her
again in life. Some time after, agreeable to her request, she slept with
James under the waves of the Atlantic. For some days I was much affected
by the melancholy event; but my spirits, with my health, gradually
returned. A few weeks more would bring me to my father's house, and I
resolved never again to trust to any political prognosticator, even of
my own father, for I had never known him so much deceived before. I had
been eighteen months away, and the war, so far from being over, was, if
possible, fiercer than ever; and the democrats of France were carrying
murder and desolation wherever their armies went.
THE ANGLER'S TALE.
Never did boy long more anxiously for the arrival of the happy day which
was to free him from the trammels of school discipline than I, a
grey-haired man, always do for the return of bright and beautiful
summer--that happy season when all nature seems to sympathise with the
fortunate citizen who can escape from the confinement, bustle, and
excitement of the crowded haunts of men, to soothe his spirit and forget
his cares amid the beautiful scenery and calm retirement of the country.
I always allow myself, if possible, a holiday in the summer months; and
with rod in hand, and knapsack on back, I wander wherever whim or chance
may lead me. Oh! the delight I experience, when the city is left far
behind me!--the buoyancy, the springiness of feeling, with which I
whistle along my path, rejoicing in my freedom! The very birds seem to
welcome me with their song; the fields, the streams, all seem breathing
of delight; I forget my grey hairs; and the spirit of youth and the
freshness of youthful feeling are again upon me.
In one of my fishing excursions, a few years since, I became
accidentally acquainted with a worthy farmer of the name of Thompson,
who lived on the banks of the Esk, in the neighbourhood of the
beautifully-situated town of Langholm. He was a good, though by no means
a rare, specimen of the class of men to which he belonged--a shrewd,
sensible, well-informed man, frank and friendly in his address, and with
an air of quiet, unobtrusive independence.
He made up to me with such kindness and hospitality, and was so cordial
and pressing in urging me to repeat my visit, that I have ever since
made his comfortable house my head-quarters during the fishing season.
His cottage was beautifully situated on a gentle rise, surrounded by
lofty trees; immediately below ran the winding Esk, dashing and foaming
over a bed of limestone, and spanned, at a short distance, by a lofty
bridge of one arch, commanding a view of the ruins of the famed tower of
Gilnockie. The neat and cheerful exterior of the cottage bespoke
comfort and plenty within; and kinder and more hospitable people never
existed than its inmates. Elsie Thompson, the good-wife, in her plain
but neat "mournings," and her close white mutch, mild and gentle in her
manner, looked the very personification of benevolence and hospitality.
She had been a very handsome woman; but the hand of affliction had been
heavy upon her, and had left its marks upon her careworn features: four
of her children had been carried off by a contagious disorder, and her
sole remaining comfort, besides her husband, was her daughter.
Ellen was one of the loveliest creatures my eye ever rested upon. Hers
was a face of sunny beauty. The braids of her rich brown hair rested
upon a brow of more than common whiteness, from beneath which her large
blue eyes sparkled with the light of pure and innocent joyousness. The
whole of her features bore the impress of light-hearted mirth; and yet
at times a passing shade of sadness flitted across them, which, while it
softened their beauty, gave an additional charm to their expression. But
it was not Ellen's beauty alone that rendered her interesting: a
kinder-hearted, more attentive and affectionate daughter never existed;
her whole soul seemed to be wrapped up in her parents; her every action
had reference to some wish or habit of theirs. She was equally exemplary
in the performance of all her household duties, and was the pride and
blessing of her parents.
Ellen and I soon became intimate; for, in the country, untrammelled by
the forms of etiquette, acquaintance soon ripens into friendship.
Fortunate was it for me that my days of romance were over, or she would
have been a dangerous companion; as it was, I could gaze upon her as I
would upon a beautiful picture, admiringly, not lovingly. Many a happy
evening have I spent, sitting in the mild summer sunset, under the shade
of the large beech-tree at Edward Thompson's door, listening to the
brawling of the foaming waters, with Ellen by my side. It was at such
times that I more particularly remarked the melancholy I have before
mentioned. Her thoughts were evidently far from the scene she looked
upon, and a tear would sometimes steal down her cheek. Whenever I asked
her the occasion of her grief, she would answer, with a languid attempt
at a smile, "Oh, naething ava!" and immediately began to talk in a
strain of forced liveliness and indifference. I saw that she had some
secret cause of unhappiness; but, as she did not volunteer her
confidence, I did not consider myself justified in attempting to force
it, and set her unhappiness down in my own mind to that general and
all-powerful disturber of youthful feelings--love for some absent one.