A MEETING IN MID OCEAN.
_Put her head a little over this way_!
They were French words. To Claude, of course, they were perfectly
intelligible, though not so to Zac, who did not understand any
language but his mother Yankee. Judging by the distinctness and the
loudness of the sound, the speaker could not be very far away. The
voice seemed to come from the water astern. No sight, however, was
visible; and the two, as they stared into the fog, saw nothing
whatever. Nor did any of the others on board seem to have heard the
voice. The priest was still intent on his Breviary. Terry was still
whistling his abominable tune. Jericho was below with his pots and
pans; and Biler, taking advantage of his absence, was seated on the
taffrail devouring a raw turnip, which he chewed with a melancholy
air. To none of these had the voice been audible, and therefore
Claude and Zac alone were confronted with this mystery of the deep.
But it was a mystery which they could not fathom; for the fog was all
around, hiding everything from view, and the more they peered into
the gloom the less were they able to understand it.
Neither of them spoke for some time. Zac had not understood the
words, but was more puzzled about the fact of a speaker being so near
on the water, behind the fog, than he was about the meaning of the
words which had been spoken. That seemed to be quite a secondary
consideration. And it was not until he had exhausted his resources in
trying to imagine what or where the one might be, that, he thought of
asking about the other.
"What did it mean?" he asked, at length.
Claude told him.
Zac said nothing for some time.
"I wonder whether they've seen us," said he, at length. "No--'tain't
possible. The fog's too thick--and we're as invisible to them as they
are to us. Besides, these words show that they ain't thinkin' about
anybody but themselves. Well, all we've got to do is to keep as still
as a mouse, an' I'll jest go an' warn the boys."
With these words Zac moved softly away to warn his crew. First he
went to Terry, and informed him that the whole fleet of France was
around the Parson, and that their only chance of safety was to keep
silent--a piece of information which effectually stopped Terry's
singing and whistling for some time; then he told Biler, in a
friendly way, that if he spoke above a whisper, or made any noise,
he'd pitch him overboard with an anchor tied to his neck. Then he
warned Jericho. As for Pere Michel, he felt that warning was
unnecessary, for the priest was too absorbed in his book to be
conscious of the external world. After this, he came back to Claude,
who had been listening ever since he left, but without hearing
anything more.
"We must have drifted nearer together," said Zac. "The voice was a
good deal louder than when I fust heerd it. My only hope is, that
they'll drift past us, an' we'll git further away from them. But I
wonder what they meant by bringin' her head around. P'aps they've
seen us, after all--an' then, again, p'aps they haven't."
He said this in a whisper, and Clause answered in another whisper.
"It seems to me," said Claude, "that if they'd seen us, they'd have
said something more--or at any rate, they'd have made more noise. But
as it is, they've been perfectly silent."
"Wal--I on'y hope we won't hear anythin' more of them."
For more than two hours silence was observed on board the Parson.
Terry stopped all whistling, and occupied himself with scratching his
bullet head. The priest sat motionless, reading his book. Jericho
drew the unhappy Biler down below for safe keeping, and detained him
there a melancholy prisoner. Claude and Zac stood listening, but
nothing more was heard.
To Claude there seemed something weird and ghostly in this
incident--a voice thus sounding suddenly forth out of nothingness,
and then dying away into the silence from which it had emerged: there
was that in it which made him feel a sensation of involuntary awe;
and the longer the silence continued, the more did this incident
surround itself with a certain supernatural element, until, at
length, he began to fancy that his senses might have deceived him.
Yet he knew this had not been the case. Zac had heard the voice as
well as he, and the words to him had been perfectly plain. _Put her
head a little over this way_! Singular words, too, they seemed to be,
as he turned them over in his mind. Under other circumstances they
might have been regarded as perfectly commonplace, but now the
surroundings gave them the possibility of a varied interpretation.
Who was the "her"? What was meant? Was it a ship or a woman? What
could the meaning be? Or, again, might not this have been some
supernatural voice speaking to them from the Unseen, and conveying to
them some sentence either of good or evil omen, giving them some
direction, perhaps, about the course of the schooner in which he was?
Not that Claude was what is called a superstitious man. From ordinary
superstition he was, indeed, quite as free as any man of his age or
epoch; not was he even influenced by any of the common superstitious
fancies then prevalent. But still there is a natural belief in the
unseen which prevails among all men, and Claude's fancy was busy,
being stimulated by this incident, so that, as he endeavored to
account for it, he was as easily drawn towards a supernatural theory
as to a natural one. Hundreds of miles from land, on the broad ocean,
a voice had sounded from behind the impenetrable cloud, and it was
scarcely to be wondered at that he considered it something unearthly.
Under other circumstances Zac might also have yielded to
superstitious fancies; but as it was, his mind had been too
completely filled with the one absorbing idea of the French fleet to
find room for any other thought. It was not an unsubstantial ghost
which Zac dreaded, but the too substantial form of some frigate
looming through the fog, and firing a gun to bring him on board.
Every additional moment of silence gave him a feeling of relief, for
he felt that these moments, as they passed, drew him away farther
from the danger that had been so near.
At length a new turn came to the current of affairs. A puff of wind
suddenly filled the sails, and at its first breath Zac started up
with a low chuckle.
"I'd give ten guineas," said he, "for one good hooray--I would, by
George! But bein' as it is, I'll postpone that till I haul off a few
miles from this."
"Why, what's the matter?" said Claude, rousing himself out of
abstraction.
"Matter?" repeated Zac. "Why, the wind's hauled round to the
nor'west, and the fog's goin' to lift, an' the Parson's goin' to show
her heels."
With these words, Zac hurried to the tiller, which he took from the
smiling Terry, and began to being the vessel around to run her before
the wind.
"Don't care a darn whar I go jest now," said he, "so's I on'y put a
mile or two between us and the Frenchman. Arter that we can shape our
course satisfactory."
And now the wind, which had thus turned, blew more steadily till it
became a sustained breeze of sufficient strength to carry the
schooner, with very satisfactory speed, out of the unpleasant
proximity to the Frenchman. And as it blew, the clouds lessened, and
the circle of fog which had surrounded them was every moment removed
to a greater distance, while the view over the water grew wider and
clearer. All this was inexpressibly delightful to Zac, who, as it
were, with one bound passed from the depths of despondency up to
joyousness and hope.
But suddenly a sight appeared which filled him with amazement, a
sight which attracted all his thoughts, and in an instant changed all
his feelings and plans. It was a sight which had become revealed on
the dispersion of the fog, showing itself to their wondering eyes out
there upon the sea astern, in the place where they had been looking
for that French cruiser, which Zac had feared.
No French cruiser was it that they saw, no ship of war with a hostile
flag and hostile arms, no sight of fear; but a sight full of infinite
pathos and sadness--a pitiable, a melancholy sight. It was about half
a mile behind them, for that was about the distance which they had
traversed since the wind had changed and the schooner's direction had
been altered.
It seemed at first like a black spot on the water, such as a
projection rock or a floating spar; but as the fog faded away the
object became more perceptible. Then they could see human figures,
some of whom were erect, and others lying down. They were on what
seemed to be a sort of raft, and the whole attitude of the little
group showed most plainly that they had suffered shipwreck, and were
here now floating about helplessly, and at the mercy of the tide, far
out at sea. Moreover, these had already seen the schooner, for they
were waving their arms and gesticulating wildly.
One glance was enough for both Zac and Claude, and then the
exclamation which they gave drew there the attention of all the
others. The priest looked up, and putting his book back in his
pocket, walked towards them, while Terry gave one swift look, and
then disappeared below.
"Quick wid ye," he called to Jericho; "put on a couple of barls o'
taters to bile. There's a shipwrecked raft afloat out there beyant,
an' they're all dyin' or dead av starvation, so they are."
"O, you jes go long wid yer nonsensical tomfoolery," said Jericho.
"Tomfoolery, is it? Go up, thin, an' luk for yerself," cried Terry,
who bounded up on deck again, and began to prepare for action. At
this Jericho put on his nose an enormous pair of spectacles, and thus
equipped climbed upon deck, followed closely by the melancholy Biler,
who devoured a carrot as he went up.
By this time Zac had brought the Parson's head round once more, and
steered for the raft, calling out to Terry to get the boat afloat.
Terry and Jerry then went to work, assisted by Biler, and soon the
boat was in the water.
"Ef I hadn't ben sich a darned donkey," said Zac, in a tone of
vexation, "I might have got at 'em before an' saved them all these
hours of extra starvation. Ef I'd only yelled back when I fust heerd
the voice! Who knows but that some of 'em hev died in the time that's
ben lost?"
"Can't we run alongside without the boat?" asked Claude.
"Wal, yes," said Zac; "but then, you know, we couldn't stay alongside
when we got that, an' so we've got to take 'em off with the boat the
best way we can."
They were not long in retracing their way, and soon came near enough.
Zac then gave up the tiller to Terry, telling him to keep as near as
possible. He then got into the boat, and Claude followed, by Zac's
invitation, as well as his own urgent request. Each took an oar, and
after a few strokes, they were up to the raft. The raft was on a
level with the water and was barely able to sustain the weight of
those who had found refuge on it. It seemed like the poop or round
house of some ship which had been beaten off by the fury of the
waves, and had afterwards been resorted to by those who now clung to
it.
The occupants of the raft were, indeed, a melancholy group. They were
seven in number. Of these, two were common seamen; a third looked
like a ship's officer, and wore the uniform of a second lieutenant;
the fourth was a gentleman, who seemed about forty years of age.
These four were standing, and as the boat approached them they gave
utterance to every possible cry of joy and gratitude. But it was the
other three occupants of the raft that most excited the attention of
Claude and Zac.
An old man was seated there, with thin, emaciated frame, and
snow-white hair. He was holding in his arms a young girl, while
beside her knelt another young girl who seemed like the attendant of
the first, and both the old man and the maid were most solicitous in
their attentions. The object of these attentions was exquisitely
beautiful. Her slender frame seemed to have been worn by long
privation, and weakened by famine and exposure. Her face was pale and
wan, but still showed the rounded outlines of youth. Her hair was all
dishevelled, as though it had been long the sport of the rude tempest
and the ocean billow, and hung in disordered masses over her head and
shoulders. Her dress, though saturated with wet from the sea and the
fog, was of rich material, and showed her to belong to lofty rank;
while the costume of the old man indicated the same high social
position. The young lady was not senseless, but only weak, perhaps
from sudden excitement. As she reclined in the old man's arms, her
eyes were fixed upon the open boat; and Claude, as he turned to grasp
the raft, caught her full gaze fixed upon him, with a glance from her
large dark eyes that thrilled through him, full of unutterable
gratitude. Her lips moved, not a word escaped, but tears more
eloquent than words rolled slowly down.
Such was the sight that greeted Claude as he stepped from the boat
upon the raft. In an instant he was caught in the embraces of the
men, who, frenzied with joy at the approach of deliverance, flung
themselves upon him. But Claude had no eyes for any one but the
lovely young girl, whose gaze of speechless gratitude was never
removed from him.
"Messieurs," said Claude, who knew them to be French, and addressed
them in their own language, "you shall all be saved; but we cannot
all go at once; we must save the weakest first; and will, therefore,
take these now, and come back for you afterwards."
Saying this, he stooped down so to raise the young lady in his arms,
and carry her aboard. The old man held her up, uttering inarticulate
murmurs, that sounded like blessings on their deliverer. Claude
lifted the girl as though she had been a child, and stepped towards
the boat. Zac was already on the raft, and held the boat, while
Claude stepped aboard. The old man then tried to rise and follow,
assisted by the maid, but, after one or two efforts, sank back,
incapable of keeping his feet. Upon this Zac flung the rope to the
French lieutenant, and walked over to the old man. Claude now had
returned, having left the girl in the stern of the boat.
"Look here," said Zac, as he came up; "the old gentleman can't walk.
You'd best carry him aboard, and I'll carry the gal."
With these words Zac turned towards the maid; she looked up at him
with a shy glance and showed such a pretty face, such black eyes and
smiling lips, that Zac for a moment hesitated, feeling quite
paralyzed by an overflow of bashfulness. But it was not a time to
stand on ceremony; and so honest Zac, without more ado, seized the
girl in his arms, and bore her to the boat, where he deposited her
carefully by the side of the other. Claude now followed, carrying the
old man, whom he placed beside the young lady, so that he and the
maid could support her as before. There was yet room for one more,
and the gentleman still on the raft came forward at Claude's
invitation, and took his place in the bows. The rest waited on the
raft. The boat then returned to the schooner, which now had come very
close. Here Claude lifted the lady high in the air, and Pere Michel
took her from his arms. Claude then got on board the schooner, and
took her to the cabin, where he laid her on a couch. Zac then lifted
up the maid, who was helped on board by Pere Michel, where Claude met
her, and took her to the cabin. Zac then lifted up the old man, and
Pere Michel stood ready to receive him also.
And now a singular incident occurred. As Zac raised the old man, Pere
Michel caught sight of the face, and regarded it distinctly. The old
man's eyes were half closed, and he took no notice of anything; but
there was something in that face which produced a profound impression
on Pere Michel. He stood rigid, as though rooted to the spot, looking
at the old man with a fixed stare. Then his arms sank down, his head
also fell forward, and turning abruptly away, he walked forward to
the bows. Upon this Jericho came forward; and he it was who lifted
the old man on board and assisted him to the cabin.
After this, the other gentleman got on board, and then the boat
returned and took off the other occupants of the raft.