"Such news, my lord, as grieves me to unfold."
Henry IV. {sic}
{William Shakespeare, "Richard III", II.iv.39}
THE Petrel was a very pretty little schooner, pronounced a crack
craft by the knowing ones. She sat so buoyantly on the water when
motionless, and glided along so gracefully when under way, that
even landsmen and landswomen must have admired her. Let it not be
supposed that the word landswomen is here used unadvisedly:
although the Navy Department is decidedly ungallant in its
general character, and seldom allows ladies to appear on board
ship, excepting at a collation or a ball, yet it is well known
that in some of the smaller sea-port towns, the female portion of
the population are so much interested in nautical matters, and
give so much time and attention to the subject, that they are
looked upon as very good judges of spars and rigging; and it is
even affirmed, that some of these charming young "salts" are
quite capable of examining a midshipman on points of seamanship.
If fame has not belied them, such are the accomplishments of the
belles of Norfolk and Pensacola; while the wives and daughters of
the whalers at Nantucket, are said to have also a critical eye
for the cut of a jib and the shape of a hull. Hubert de Vaux
hoped they had, for he thought it a pity that the Petrel's
beauties should be thrown away.
On the morning they sailed, when Elinor had watched the boat as
she lay in the river, they had been waiting for Bruno. Harry
wished to carry the dog with him; but after following Hazlehurst
to the boat, he had returned home again; he was, however, enticed
on board, and they hoisted sail, and slowly moved out of sight.
In spite of some little delay, the Petrel made a very good day's
work. That night and the following the party slept on board, and
seemed very well satisfied with their quarters; they intended to
run out of sight of land before the end of their cruise, but as
yet they had landed every few hours for fresh water, vegetables,
milk, &c.; as it did not enter at all into their calculations to
be put on a short allowance of anything desirable. On the
afternoon of the third day, the Petrel reached the wharf of a
country place on Long-Island, where the party landed, according
to a previous invitation, and joined some friends for a couple of
days' shooting, which proved a pleasant variety in the excursion;
the sport was pronounced good, and the gentlemen made the most of
it. Mr. Stryker, however, complained that the pomp and
circumstance of sporting was wanted in this country.
"So long as we have the important items of good guns, good
marksmen, and real wild-game, we need not find fault," said
Harry.
Many lamentations succeeded, however, upon the rapid
disappearance of game from all parts of the country.
"There I have the best of it," said Mr. Stryker to his host. "In
the next twenty years you may expect to find your occupation
gone; but I shall at least have fishing in abundance all my days;
though at times I am not quite so sure of the brook-trout."
"I don't think Jonathan will be able to exterminate all the trout
in the land," said Hazlehurst, although he is a shamefully
wasteful fellow; but I really think there is some danger for the
oysters; if the population increases, and continues to eat them,
in the same proportion they do now, I am afraid Jonathan of the
next generation will devour the whole species."
"Jonathan" = the American (from "Brother Jonathan")}
>From Glen-Cove the Petrel made a reach across the Sound to
Sachem's-Head, where Mr. Stryker enjoyed to perfection the
luxuries of clam-soup, lobster-salad, and chowder.
Their next port was Nantucket. They happened to arrive there just
before a thunder-shower, and Charlie Hubbard was much struck with
the wild, desolate look of the island. He pointed out to
Hazlehurst the fine variety of neutral tints to be traced in the
waves, in the low sand-banks, and the dark sky forming the
back-ground. Nantucket is a barren spot, indeed, all but bare of
vegetation; scarcely a shrub will grow there, and even the tough
beach-grass is often swept away in large tracts; while the forms
of the sand-hills vary with every storm. The town itself,
however, is a busy, lively little spot--one of the most nautical
in feeling and character to be found on the globe. The chief
interests of the inhabitants centre in the ocean; and even the
very ornaments of their houses are spoils of the deep, shells and
fish-bones from distant latitudes, and sailor's fancy-work in
various materials, all connected in some way with the sea.
Charlie made a sketch of the island, and determined to return
there and paint a picture of some size. The next day, which was
Sunday, they remained at Nantucket; there is a pretty little
church in the town, and Charlie, Harry, and Mr. Smith attended
service there; the rest of the gentlemen preferring to idle away
the morning in a less praiseworthy manner.
One of young de Vaux's crew was taken sick here, and he was
obliged to secure another man before leaving the island; it was
easy to do so, however, as one who was waiting for a passage to
New York soon offered, and the matter was settled.
Early on Monday morning they again made sail, for Martha's
Vineyard; from thence the Petrel's head was to be turned
southward, and after coasting the eastern shore of Long-Island,
they expected to return to the wharf at Broadlawn, as fast as the
winds would carry them. The Vineyard, owing to a more sheltered
position, bears a different aspect from the barren sands of
Nantucket; parts of the island are well wooded. Choosing a
pleasant bay known to their pilot, where a rude wharf had been
built, the party landed and prepared to dine, and pass some hours
there. They were no sooner on shore than Mr. Stryker made his
arrangements for fishing; having secured bait, Dr. Van Horne and
himself, with one of the men, took the Petrel's boat and rowed
off from shore, changing their ground occasionally, until they
had turned the point which formed the bay on one side, and were
no longer in sight. De Vaux and Smith took their guns and went
into the wood; Charlie brought out his sketchbook, and was soon
engaged in taking some tints, in watercolours, from a heavy bank
of clouds which had been slowly rising in the west for several
hours. Hazlehurst was lying on the grass near him, with a
spy-glass, watching a couple of sloops in the distance: turning
his head accidentally towards the spot where they were commencing
preparations for dinner, Harry saw one of the men, the new
recruit, whom he had not yet remarked, looking at him closely. It
struck Hazlehurst that he had met this man before; the sailor saw
that he was observed, and after a moment's hesitation he
approached, touching his hat with the common salutation of a
seaman, and looking as if he wished to speak, but scarcely knew
how to begin.
"Have you anything to say to me, my friend?--It strikes me I have
seen your face somewhere lately."
"If you are Mr. Hazlehurst, I guess, sir, you seed me not long
since," replied the man, a little embarrassed.
It suddenly flashed upon Harry's mind, that it was during the
Stanley trial that he had seen this person; yes, he could not be
mistaken, he was one of the witnesses for the plaintiff on that
occasion. Hazlehurst gave him a keen look; the fellow faltered a
little, but begged Harry to step aside for a moment, as he wished
to speak alone with him. They moved to the adjoining bank, within
the edge of the wood, and a conversation followed of some
consequence to Hazlehurst, certainly. After a few prefatory
remarks, this man offered to make important revelations, upon
condition that he should be screened from justice--being
considered as state's evidence--and rewarded by Harry for
volunteering his services; to which Hazlehurst readily agreed.
We shall tell his story for him, rather as it appeared at a later
day, than in the precise words in which it was first given at
Martha's Vineyard. By his disclosures, the villany {sic} of Clapp
and his client were placed beyond a doubt; and he himself was
good authority, for he was Robert Stebbins, the witness who had
sworn to having returned the pocket-book and the accompanying
documents to the plaintiff, as their rightful owner; he now
confessed that he had perjured himself for a heavy bribe, but
stood ready to turn state's evidence, and reveal all he knew of
the plot. Those papers had actually been placed in his care
thirteen years since by his own brother, Jonathan Stebbins, who
had died of small-pox in an hospital at Marseilles. This brother
had been a favourite companion of William Stanley's from his
first voyage; they had shipped together in the Jefferson, and
before sailing, Stanley had placed a package of papers and other
articles, for safe-keeping, in an old chest of Stebbins's, which
was left with the sailor's mother in Massachusetts. They were
wrecked in the Jefferson on the coast of Africa, as had been
already reported; but they were not drowned, they both succeeded
in reaching the shore, having lashed themselves to the same spar.
It was a desert, sandy coast, and they were almost starved after
having reached the land; their only shelter was a small cave in a
low ledge of rocks near the beach; they fed upon half-putrid
shell-fish thrown upon the sands by the gale, and they drank from
the pools of rain-water that had formed on the rock during the
storm; for they had saved nothing from the wreck but a sealed
bottle, containing their protections as American sailors, some
money in an old glove, and a few other papers. William Stanley
had been ill before the gale, and he had not strength to bear up
against these hardships; he declined rapidly, and aware that he
could not live, the young man charged his companion, if he ever
returned to America, to seek his family, relate the circumstances
of his death, and show the papers in the bottle--an old letter to
himself, and within it the notice of his father's marriage, which
he had cut from a paper, obtained from an American vessel spoken
on the voyage--and also the package left on shore in the old
chest, as these documents would be considered testimonials of his
veracity. He farther charged Stebbins to say that he asked his
father's forgiveness, acknowledging that he died repenting of his
past misconduct. The third day after the gale the young man
expired, and Stebbins buried him in the sand near the cave. The
survivor had a hard struggle for life; the rain-water had soon
dried away, and he set out at night in search of a spring to
relieve his thirst, still keeping in sight of the shore. As the
morning sun rose, when all but exhausted, he discovered on the
beach several objects from the wreck, which had drifted in that
direction, the wind having changed after the gale. He found a keg
of spirits and some half-spoiled biscuit, and by these means his
life was prolonged. He made a bag of his shirt, bound a few
things on his back, and buried others in the sand, to return to
if necessary, and then continued to follow the shore northward,
in search of some spring or stream. Fortunately, he soon came to
a woody tract which promised water, and climbing a tree he
watched the wild animals, hoping to discover where they drank; at
length, following a flock of antelopes, he came suddenly upon the
bank of a stream of some size; and to his unspeakable joy, saw on
the opposite bank a party of white men, the first human beings he
had beheld since Stanley's death; they proved to be Swedes
belonging to a ship in the offing; and immediately took him into
their boat. The vessel was bound to Stockholm, where she carried
young Stanley's shipmate; from there he went to St. Petersburgh,
where he met with the brother who related his story to
Hazlehurst, and both soon after enlisted in the Russian navy.
They were sent to the Black Sea, and kept there and in the
Mediterranean for five years, until the elder brother, Jonathan
Stebbins, died of small-pox in a hospital at Marseilles, having
never returned to America since the wreck of the Jefferson.
Before his death, however, he left all his effects and William
Stanley's papers to his brother. This man, Robert Stebbins,
seemed to have paid very little attention to the documents; it
was by mere chance that he preserved the old letter, and the
marriage notice within it, for he confessed that he had torn up
the protection, once when he wanted a bit of paper: he had never
known William Stanley himself, the inquiries about the young man
had ceased before he returned to America, and he had attached no
importance whatever to these papers. He had left them where they
had first been placed, in the old sea-chest at his mother's
house, near New Bedford, while he led the usual wandering life of
a sailor. He told Harry that he had at last quite forgotten this
package, until he accidentally fell in with a man calling himself
William Stanley, at a low tavern, only some five or six years
since, and, to his amazement, heard him declare he had been
wrecked in the Jefferson.
{"protection" = a paper testifying to the American citizenship of
a seaman, carried to protect him against being forced into the
British Navy as an Englishman. Stebbins' survival reflects
descriptions of a shipwreck on the Atlantic coast of North Africa
in James Fenimore Cooper's "Homeward Bound" (1838)}
"The fellow was half-drunk," said Stebbins; "but I knew his yarn
was a lie all the time, for I had sailed with him in another
ship, at the time my brother Jonathan was wrecked in the
Jefferson. He shipped then under the name of Benson, but I knew
his real name was Edward Hopgood--"
"Edward Hopgood!" exclaimed Harry, passing his hand over his
forehead--" surely I have heard that name before. Wait a moment,"
he added, to Stebbins; while he endeavoured to recollect why that
name, singular in itself, had a familiar sound to him. At length
his eye brightened, the whole matter became more clear; he
recollected when a mere child, a year or two before Mr. Stanley's
death, while staying at Greatwood during a vacation, to have
heard of the bad conduct of a young man named Edward Hopgood, a
lawyer's clerk in the adjoining village, who had committed
forgery and then run away. The circumstances had occurred while
Harry was at Greatwood, and had been so much talked of in a
quiet, country neighbourhood, as to make a decided impression on
himself, child as he was. Harry also remembered to have heard Mr.
Stanley tell Mr. Wyllys that this Hopgood was very distantly
related to himself, through the mother, who had made a very bad
connexion; adding, that this lad had been at Greatwood, and would
have been assisted by himself, had he not behaved very badly, and
done so much to injure his own son that he had been forbidden the
house. Harry farther remembered, that Clapp had belonged to the
same office from which this Hopgood had run away. There was,
however, one point which he did not understand; he thought he had
since heard that this Hopgood had turned actor, and died long
since of yellow-fever, at New Orleans. Still, he felt convinced
that there was a good foundation for Stebbins's story, and he
hoped soon to unravel the whole plot, from the clue thus placed
in his hands.
"Go on," said Harry, after this pause. "You say this man, whom
you knew to be Hopgood, called himself William Stanley. What
became of him?"
"It is the same chap that hoisted your colours, Mr. Hazlehurst;
him that the jury gave the verdict to in Philadelphia."
"Yes; I knew it must be the same individual before you spoke,"
said Harry, with a view to keep his informant accurate. "But how
did you know that his name was Hopgood? for you say he had
shipped under another."
"I knew it because he had told me so himself. He told me how he
had run away from a lawyer's office in Pennsylvany, gone to New
Orleans and turned play-actor a while, then shammed dead, and had
his name printed in the papers among them that died of
yellow-fever. He told me all that in his first voyage, when we
were shipmates, and that was just the time that my brother
Jonathan was wrecked in the Jefferson."
"When you afterwards heard him say he was William Stanley, did
you tell him you knew his real name?"
"Yes; I told him I knew he lied; for my brother had buried
Stanley with his own hands, and that I had his papers at home.
Then he told me, he was only laughing at the green-horns."
"Did you mention to any one at the time that you knew this man
was not William Stanley?"
"No, sir, for I didn't speak to him until we were alone; and we
parted company next morning, for I went to sea."
"When did you next see Hopgood?"
"Well, I didn't fall in with him again for a long while, until
this last spring. When I came home from a voyage to China in the
Mandarin, last May, I went to my mother's, near New Bedford, and
then I found a chap had been to see her in the winter, and
persuaded her to give him all the papers in the old chest, that
had belonged to William Stanley, making out he was one of the
young man's relations. It was that lawyer Clapp; and Hopgood had
put him on the track of them 'ere papers."
"What were the documents in your chest?"
"Most of what they had to show came from me: to be sure, Hopgood
had got some letters and papers, written to himself of late years
under the name of William Stanley; but all they had before the
wreck of the Jefferson came from me."
"Were there any books among the articles in your possession?"
"No, sir; nothing but the pocket-book."
"Are you quite sure? Was there not one book with William
Stanley's name in it?"
"Not one; that 'ere book they had in court didn't come from me;
how they got it I don't know," replied Stebbins positively; who,
it seemed, knew nothing of the volume of the Spectator.
"Where did you next meet Hopgood?"
"Well, I was mad when I found he had got them papers; but the
lawyer had left a message with my mother, saying if I came home,
she was to tell me I'd hear something to my advantage by applying
to him. So I went after him to the place where he lives; and sure
enough there was Hopgood, and he and Clapp as thick as can be
together. I guess they'd have liked it better if I had never
showed myself again: but they got round me, and told me how it
was all settled, and if I would only lend a hand, and keep quiet
about Hopgood, and speak for them once in a while, they would
enter into an agreement to give me enough to make a skipper of me
at once. Them 'ere lawyers they can make black look like
white--and so I agreed to it at last."
Hazlehurst strongly suspected that less persuasion had been
necessary than the man wished him to believe.
"Did they tell you all their plan?"
"Pretty much all; they said it was easy to make people believe
Hopgood was William Stanley, for he looked so much like the young
man, that he had been asked if that wasn't his name. He said it
was that first gave him the notion of passing off for William
Stanley--that, and knowing all about the family, and the young
man himself. He said Stanley had no near relations who would be
likely to remember him; there was only one old gentleman they was
afraid of, but they calculated they knew enough to puzzle him
too. Hopgood had been practising after Stanley's handwriting; he
was pretty good at that trade when he was a shaver," said
Stebbins, with a look which showed he knew the story of the
forgery. "He was bred a lawyer, and them 'ere lawyers are good at
all sorts of tricks. Clapp and him had made out a story from my
papers and what they know'd before, and got it all ready in a
letter; they agreed that from the time of the wreck, they had
better keep pretty straight to Hopgood's real life; and so they
did."
"They seem to have laid all their plans before you."
"Well, they couldn't help it, for they wanted me to tell them all
I heard from my brother; but I told 'em to speak first. They made
out that Hopgood had a right to the property; for they said that
old Mr. Stanley had no family to leave it to, that you was a
stranger, and that Hopgood was a relation."
"This Hopgood, who first helped to corrupt William Stanley, even
if he had actually been a near relation, would have been the last
human being to whom Mr. Stanley would have left his property,"
said Harry, coolly. "But go on with your story; why did they not
show the pocket-book before the trial?"
"They settled it so, because they thought it would look better
before the jury."
"Why did you change your own mind so soon after the trial? You
should have come to me before."
"Hopgood and I had a quarrel only three days ago, when he was
drunk; he swore they could have done without me, and I swore I'd
be revenged. Then that fellow, Clapp, wouldn't pay me on the spot
according to agreement, as soon as they had gained the cause. I
had kept my part, and he hadn't lifted a finger yet for me; nor
he wouldn't if he could help it, for all he had given me his
word. I know him from more than one thing that came out; he is
one of your fellows who sham gentlemen, with a fine coat to his
back; but I wouldn't trust him with a sixpence out of sight; no,
nor out of arm's length," and Stebbins went on, swearing roundly
at Clapp and Hopgood, until Harry interrupted him.
"I know them 'ere lawyers, they think they can cheat Jack any
day; but I won't trust him an hour longer! I know your real
gentleman from your tricky sham at a minute's warning, though
their coats be both cut off the same piece of broadcloth. I
haven't served under Uncle Sam's officers for nothing. Now I'll
trust you, Mr. Hazlehurst, as long as it suits you; I'd no more
have talked to Clapp without having his name down in black and
white, as I have to you, than I'd be shot."
"The agreement I have made shall be strictly kept," replied
Harry, coldly. "Had you come to me before the trial, you would
have had the same reward, without the crime of perjury."
"Well, that 'ere perjury made me feel uncomfortable; and what
with having sworn vengeance on Clapp and Hopgood, I made up my
mind to go straight back to Philadelphy, and turn state's
evidence. I was waiting for a chance to get to New York when I
saw you on the wharf at Nantucket, and I knew you in a minute."
The conversation was here interrupted by a call from the beach,
which attracted Harry's attention, after having been so much
engrossed during the disclosures of Stebbins, as to be quite
regardless of what was going on about him. It was de Vaux who had
called--he now approached.
"I couldn't think where that fellow, Stebbins, had got to; if you
have nothing for him to do here, Hazlehurst, he is wanted
yonder."
Harry and the sailor accordingly parted. After exchanging a few
words to conclude their agreement, they both returned to the
beach.
The Petrel seemed to be getting under way again; Smith and de
Vaux, who had just returned from the wood with their guns, and
Charlie, who had just left his sketching apparels, were standing
together looking on when Harry joined them.
"I didn't know what had become of you," said Charlie. "What a
long yarn that fellow seemed to be telling you!"
"It was well worth hearing," said Harry, with a significant look
at his friend.
"Really? I had some hope it might prove so from the man's look,"
added Charlie, comprehending at once the drift of the
conversation, though he had little idea of its complete success
in unravelling the plot
"You shall hear it before long," added Harry.
"When you please; in the mean time I wish you joy of any good
news!"
"But what are you about here, de Vaux? I thought we were to
remain on the island till sun-set."
"So we shall; but it seems that fellow, Black Bob, has forgot the
vegetables I ordered him to bring from Nantucket; we have
discovered a house with something like a garden on the opposite
point, and I am going to send Bob with the boy Sam on a foraging
expedition; I dare say they will find potatoes and onions at
least. That is the spot; do you see the apple-trees? With the
glass I saw a woman moving about, and milk-pans drying in the
sun."
"Why don't you send the boat?"
"Stryker hasn't come back yet, and there is wind enough to carry
the Petrel over and back again in half an hour."
"Smith and I are going as commanding officers; and you will have
a much better dinner for our exertions, no doubt," said Charlie.
"Holloa, there, Bob--Sam!--tumble on board; mind you bring all
the garden-stuff they can spare. You Bob, see if you can pick up
half you contrived to forget, sir, at Nantucket. You deserve to
be made to swim across for it," said de Vaux.
"Never could swim a stroke in my born days, sir," muttered Black
Bob.
"There isn't much choice of sa'ace at Nantucket, anyway," added
the boy Sam.
{"sa'ace" = sauce, a slang term for vegetables}
"Here we go," said Charlie, jumping lightly on board, followed by
Smith.
"It is possible you may find some melons, Hubbard; don't forget
to ask for them," said de Vaux.
"Ay, ay, sir," replied Charlie, nodding as the Petrel moved off.
The boy was steering, while Black Bob and the gentlemen tended
the sails; and the little schooner glided gracefully on her way,
with a light breeze, sufficiently favourable.
Harry went to take a look at Charlie's sketch, which he found
just as the young artist had left it--spirited and true to nature
as usual, but only half-finished. De Vaux looked into the chowder
pot, where all seemed to be going on well. He then joined Harry,
and the young men continued walking together near the shanty,
where preparations for dinner were going on under the charge of
Stebbins and the acting steward of the cruise.
"It is nearly time Stryker made his appearance with the fish,"
said Harry.
"If the sport is good, we shan't see him this hour yet," replied
de Vaux. "He will only come back in time to put the finishing
stroke to the chowder."
"If he waits too long he will have a shower," observed Harry,
pointing eastward, where dark clouds were beginning to appear
above the wood.
"Not under an hour I think," said de Vaux. "He will take care of
himself at any rate--trust to Stryker for that," They turned to
look at the Petrel. Some ten or fifteen minutes had passed since
she left the little wharf, and she was already near her
destination; the point on which the farm-house stood being
scarcely more than a mile distant, in a direct line, and a single
tack having proved sufficient to carry her there.
"The wind seems to be falling," said Harry, holding up his hand
to feel the air. "It is to be hoped they will make a quick
bargain, or they may keep your potatoes too late to be boiled for
to-day's dinner."
De Vaux took up the glass to look after their movements.
"They have made the point, handsomely," he said; "and there is a
woman coming down to the shore, and a boy, too."
The friends agreed that there seemed every prospect of a
successful negotiation; for a woman was seen going towards the
garden with a basket, and Sam, the boy, had landed. Before long a
basket was carried down from the house; while Sam and the woman
were still busy in the garden.
"They had better be off as soon as they can," said de Vaux, "for
the wind is certainly falling."
"There is a shower coming up over the island, Captain de Vaux,"
said Stebbins, touching his hat.
"Coming, sure enough!--look yonder!"--exclaimed Harry, pointing
eastward, where heavy clouds were now seen rising rapidly over
the wood.
"We shall have a shower, and something of a squall, I guess,"
added Stebbins.
There could not indeed be much doubt of the fact, for a heavy
shower now seemed advancing, with the sudden rapidity not unusual
after very warm weather; the position of the bay, and a wooded
bank having concealed its approach until close at hand.
"We shall have a dead calm in ten minutes," said de Vaux; "I wish
the Petrel was off."
But still there seemed something going on in the garden; the
woman and Sam were very busy, and Charlie and Smith had joined
them.
"They must see the shower coming up by this time!" exclaimed de
Vaux.
"There will be a squall and a sharp one, too," added Stebbins.
The wind, which had prevailed steadily all the morning in a
light, sultry breeze from the south, was now dying away; the
sullen roll of distant thunder was heard, while here and there a
sudden flash burst from a nearer cloud.
"Thank Heaven, they are off at last!" cried de Vaux, who was
watching the schooner with some anxiety.
Harry and the two men were busy gathering together under cover of
the shanty, the different articles scattered about, and among
others Charlie's half-finished sketch.
The sun was now obscured; light, detached clouds, looking heated
and angry, were hurrying in advance with a low flight, while the
heavens were half-covered by the threatening mass which came
gathering in dark and heavy folds about the island. Suddenly the
great body of vapour which had been hanging sullenly over the
western horizon all the morning, now set in motion by a fresh
current of air, began to rise with a slow movement, as if to meet
the array advancing so eagerly from the opposite direction; it
came onward steadily, with a higher and a wider sweep than the
mass which was pouring immediately over the little bay. The
landscape had hung out its storm-lights; the dark scowl of the
approaching gust fell alike on wood, beach, and waters; the birds
were wheeling about anxiously; the gulls and other water-fowl
flying lower and lower, nearer and nearer to their favourite
element; the land-birds hurrying hither and thither, seeking
shelter among their native branches. But not a drop of rain had
yet fallen; and the waves still came rolling in upon the sands
with the measured, lulling sound of fair weather.
The air from the south revived for a moment, sweeping in light,
fitful puffs over the bay. Favoured by this last flickering
current of the morning's breeze, the Petrel had succeeded in
making her way half across the bay, though returning less
steadily than she had gone on her errand an hour before.
"Give us another puff or two, and she will yet be here before the
squall," said de Vaux.
The little schooner was now indeed within less than half a mile
of the wharf; but here at length the wind entirely failed her,
and she sat idly on the water. De Vaux was watching her through
the glass; there seemed to be some little hesitation and
confusion on board; Sam, the boy, had given up the tiller to
Black Bob. Suddenly the first blast of the gust from the east
came rustling through the wood, making the young trees bend
before it; then as it passed over the water there was a minute's
respite.
"How she dodges!--What are they about?" exclaimed Harry.
"What do they mean?--Are they blind?--can't they see the squall
coming?" cried de Vaux in great anxiety, as he watched the
hesitation on board the Petrel.
"As my name is Nat Fisher, that nigger is drunk!--I thought so
this morning!" exclaimed the steward.
"And Smith and Hubbard know nothing of a boat!" cried de Vaux, in
despair.
The words had scarcely passed his lips before the wind came
rushing over the wood, in a sudden, furious blast, bringing
darker and heavier clouds, accompanied by quick, vivid flashes of
lightning, and sharp cracks of thunder; the rain pouring down in
torrents. It was with difficulty the young men kept their footing
on the end of the wharf, such was the first fury of the gust; but
they forgot themselves in fears for their friends.
"Are they mad!" cried de Vaux, as he marked the uncertainty of
their movements; while the wind was sweeping furiously over the
darkened waters towards them.
A heavy sheet of rain, pouring in a flood from the clouds,
completely enveloped the party on the wharf; another second and a
shout was indistinctly heard amid the tumult of the winds and
waters; a lighter cloud passed over, the bay was partially seen
again; but neither the white sails of the Petrel nor her buoyant
form could be traced by the eager eyes on the wharf. She had been
struck by the gust and capsized.
"She is gone!" exclaimed de Vaux, with a cry of horror.
"Charlie can't swim!" cried Harry.
"Nor Bob, for certain," said the steward. "I don't know about the
others."
Three shots from a fowling-piece were rapidly fired, as a signal
to the party in the Petrel that their situation was known to
their friends on shore. The steward was instantly ordered to run
along the beach to the farthest point, and carry the boat from
there to the spot; it was a distance of more than two miles by
land, still de Vaux thought it best to be done; while he himself
and Stebbins seized another pair of oars, and set off at full
speed in the opposite direction, to the nearest point, about a
mile from the wharf, beyond which Stryker was fishing with their
own boat, intending to carry her instantly to the relief of the
party in the schooner.
Harry thought of his friend; Charlie could not swim, he himself
was a remarkably good swimmer. It must be some little time before
either boat could reach the capsized schooner, and in the
interval, two at least of the four individuals in the Petrel,
were helpless and in imminent peril. The idea of Charlie's danger
decided his course; in a moment he had cast off his clothes, and
with Bruno at his side--a faithful ally at such a moment--he had
thrown himself into the water, confident that he could swim the
distance himself with ease.
The next half-hour was one of fearful anxiety. The gust still
raged with sullen fury; the shower from eastward, collected among
the mists of the ocean, and the array from the west, gathered
amid the woods and marshes of the land, met with a fierce shock
on the shores of the Vineyard. The thunder and lightning were
unusually severe, several bolts falling within a short distance
about the bay; the rain pouring down in a dense sheet, as the
wind drove cloud after cloud over the spot in its stormy flight.
And amid this scene of violence four human beings were struggling
for life, while their anxious friends were hurrying to their
relief, with every nerve alive. Frederick Smith was the first who
rose after the Petrel capsized; in another moment he saw the head
of the boy emerge from the water at a little distance; the lad
could swim, and both had soon gained the portion of the little
schooner's hull which was partially bare, though constantly
washed by the waves. Another minute, and Smith saw amid the spray
Charlie's head; he knew that Hubbard could not swim, and moved
towards him with a cry of encouragement.
"Here!" replied the young painter; but he had disappeared before
Smith could reach him.
A fresh blast of wind, rain, and hail passed over the spot; Smith
moved about calling to Hubbard and the negro; but he received no
answer from either.
"There's one of them!" cried the boy eagerly; he swam towards the
object he had seen, but it proved to be only a hat.
Both returned to the Petrel's side, watching as closely as the
violence of the wind and rain would permit. Not a trace of the
negro was seen; yet Smith thought he must have risen to the
surface at some point unobserved by them, for he was a man of a
large, corpulent body, more likely to float than many others. A
second time Smith was relieved by seeing Charlie rise, but at a
greater distance from the Petrel's hull; a second time he
strained every nerve to reach him, but again the young man sunk
beneath the waves.
A shout was now heard. "It is the boat!" said Smith, as he
answered the call. He was mistaken; it was Hazlehurst who now
approached, with Bruno at his side, guided by the voices of Smith
and the boy.
"Charlie!" cried Harry, as he made his way through the water.
Charlie!" he repeated again.
"Hubbard has sunk twice, and the negro is gone!" cried Smith.
"Come to the hull and take breath," added Smith.
But just as he spoke, Harry had seen an arm left bare by a
passing wave; he made a desperate effort, reached the spot, and
seized Charlie's body, crying joyfully, "It is Hubbard; I have
him!--Charlie, do you know me?--Charlie, speak but a word, my
good fellow!"
But the young man had lost his consciousness; he returned no
answer either by look or word. Harry grasped his collar, holding
his face above the water, and at the same time moving towards the
Petrel's hull as rapidly as he could.
"Here Bruno, my noble dog! That's right, Smith, get a firm hold
on the schooner; we must draw him up, he has fainted; but the
boats must be here soon."
Smith was following Hazlehurst's directions; but ere Bruno had
joined his master, Harry, now within a short distance of the
schooner, suddenly cried, "Help!"--and in another second both he
and Charlie had disappeared beneath the water, in a manner as
incomprehensible, as it was unexpected and distressing to Smith.
"He's sunk!" cried the boy.
"How?--where? Surely he was not exhausted!"
A howl burst from Bruno.
"Perhaps it's the cramp," said the lad.
"Both sunk!--Hazlehurst too!" again exclaimed Smith, as much
amazed as he was distressed. He and the boy threw themselves from
the schooner's side again, looking anxiously for some trace of
Hazlehurst.
"Look sharp, my lad, as you would save a fellow-creature!"
"There's one of them!" cried the boy, and in another instant he
had caught Charlie by the hair. But not a trace of Hazlehurst was
seen since he first disappeared, and the waters had closed so
suddenly over him. Charlie was carried to the Petrel's side; and
while Smith and the lad were endeavouring to raise him on the
schooner, Bruno was swimming hither and thither, howling
piteously for his master.
A shout was now heard.
"The boat at last, thank Heaven!" cried Smith, returning the
call.
A minute passed; nothing was seen of Harry; Charlie was raised
entirely above water; when at length the Petrel's boat dashed
towards them, urged by all the strength of four rowers.
"Hubbard!--Bob!" cried de Vaux, as the first glance showed him
that both Smith and the boy were safe.
"Hubbard is here, insensible--Bob gone--Hazlehurst sunk, too!"
"Hazlehurst and Bob, too!--Merciful powers!" exclaimed the party.
A hurried, eager search succeeded, as soon as Charlie, with Smith
and Sam, now somewhat exhausted by fatigue and agitation, were
taken on board. Hubbard was quite insensible; young Van Horne,
the physician, thought his appearance unfavourable, but instantly
resorted to every means possible under the circumstances, with
the hope of restoring animation. Still nothing was seen of Harry;
his entire disappearance was quite incomprehensible.
"It must have been cramp; yet I never knew him have it, and he is
one of the best swimmers in the country!" said de Vaux.
"He must have felt it coming, and had presence of mind to loosen
his hold of Hubbard at the same moment he cried for help,"
observed Smith.
Bruno was still swimming, now here, now there, encircling the
Petrel in wider or narrower reaches, howling from time to time
with a sound that went to the hearts of all who heard him.
Different objects floating about beguiled the party for an
instant with hope, but each time a few strokes of the oars
undeceived them.
Suddenly Bruno stopped within a short distance of the Petrel, and
dove; those in the boat watched him eagerly; he rose with a sharp
bark, calling them to the spot; then dove again, rose with a
howl, and for a third time disappeared beneath the water.
Convinced that he had found either Harry or the negro, de Vaux
threw off his coat and plunged into the water, to examine the
spot thoroughly. The dog soon rose again with a rope in his
mouth, pulling it with all his strength, uttering at the same
time a smothered cry. The rope was seized by those in the boat,
and de Vaux dove; he touched first one body, then another; but
all his strength was unequal to the task of raising either. After
a hurried examination, it was found that one body, that of the
negro, was entangled in a rope and thus held under water from the
first; while Harry's leg was firmly clenched in the dying grip of
Black Bob, who must have seized it as Hazlehurst passed, and
drawn him downward in that way.
In as short a time as possible, Hazlehurst and the negro were
placed in the boat by the side of Hubbard, who had not yet showed
any sign of life; every effort was made to revive them by some of
the party, while the others rowed with all their strength towards
the shore.
All watched the face of Van Horne, the young physician, with the
greatest anxiety, as he leaned first over one, then over another,
directing the labours of the rest.
"Surely there must be some hope!" cried de Vaux to him.
"We will leave no effort untried," replied the other; though he
could not look sanguine.
The boat from the most distant point, rowed by the steward and a
boy from the farm-house, now joined them; and those who could not
be of use in assisting Van Horne, passed into her, taking their
oars, and towing the boat of the ill-fated Petrel with her
melancholy burden towards the beach. Bruno could not be moved
from his old master's side; it was painful to see him crawling
from one body to the other, with as much watchfulness, as much
grief, and almost as much intelligence as the surviving friends;
now crouching at the cold feet of Hazlehurst, now licking the
stiff hand, now raising himself to gaze wistfully at the
inanimate features of the young man.
The shower was passing over; the rain soon ceased, the clouds
broke away, the sun burst again in full glory upon the bay, the
beach, the woods, throwing a brilliant bow over the island. But
three of those upon whom it had shone only an hour earlier, were
now stretched cold and lifeless on the sands; while the mourning
survivors were hanging in heartfelt grief over the bodies of the
two friends and the negro sailor.