Sea Stories
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Title: Sea Stories
Editor: Cyrus Townsend Brady
Release date: March 25, 2013 [eBook #42409]
Most recently updated: October 23, 2024
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SEA STORIES ***
[Illustration: The Merchantman and the Pirate]
Young Folks’ Library in Twenty Volumes
Thomas Bailey Aldrich, Editor-in-Chief
SEA STORIES
EDITED BY
CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY
BOSTON
HALL AND LOCKE COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1902,
By HALL & LOCKE COMPANY.
Boston, U.S.A.
Stanhope Press
P. H. GILSON COMPANY
BOSTON, U.S.A.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
List of Colored Illustrations
Yarns of the Forecastle, By the Rev. Cyrus Townsend Brady.
The Mutiny of the Bounty, From Chambers's Miscellany.
Our First Whale, By F. T. Bullen.
Going to Sea a Hundred Years Ago, By R. J. Cleveland.
The Escape of the American Frigate Alliance, By J. Fenimore Cooper.
Among the Ice Floes, By J. Fenimore Cooper.
A Tornado at Sea, By George Cupples.
My First Voyage, By R. H. Dana, Jr.
Running Away to Sea, By Daniel Defoe.
The Tempest, By Charles Dickens.
A Struggle with a Devil Fish, By Victor Hugo.
The Man and the Cannon, By Victor Hugo.
A Ship on Fire at Sea, By Jean Ingelow.
In the Gulf Stream, By Charles Kingsley.
The Loss of the Royal George, By W. H. G. Kingston.
Sailors' Yarns, By Pierre Loti.
Equality at Sea, By Captain F. Marryat.
The Club-Hauling of the Diomede, By Captain F. Marryat.
The Chase, By Herman Melville.
Rounding Cape Horn, By Herman Melville.
The Merchantman and the Pirate, By Charles Reade.
A Gale of Wind, By W. Clark Russell.
Saved, By W. Clark Russell.
The Capture of the Cotton Ship, By Michael Scott.
The Cruise of the Coracle, By R. L. Stevenson.
Landing on the Island, By Jean Rudolf Wyss.
Biographical Notes
Suggestions for Supplementary Reading
LIST OF COLORED ILLUSTRATIONS
The Fight between the Merchantman and the Pirate
“He Lifted His Lance and Hurled It at the Visitor”
“The Two Frigates Grappled”
“The Vessel Continued in Pursuit, Changing Her Course as We
Changed Ours”
The Contest between Gun and Gunner
“The Ship ... Went Completely Over”
“By this Time all Eyes were Turned upon Her”
And Eighty-six Black and White Illustrations in the Text.
YARNS OF THE FORECASTLE
BY
CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY
Most of us have passed through a period of life during which we have
ardently longed to be, if not actually a rover, a buccaneer, or a
pirate, at least and really a sailor! To run away to sea has been the
misdirected ambition of many a youngster, and some lads there are who
have realized their desire to their sorrow. The boy who has not
cherished in his heart and exhibited in his actions at sometime or
other during his youthful days, a love of ships and salt water, is fit
for—well, he is fit for the shore, and that is the worst thing a
sailor could say about him!
The virile nations, the strong peoples, are those whose countries
border on the sea. They who go down to the great deep in ships are
they who master the world. On the ocean as well as on the mountain top
dwells the spirit of freedom. When men have struggled with each other
in the shock of war, or the emulation of peace, when they have matched
skill against skill, strength to strength, courage with courage, the
higher quality of manhood in each instance has been required upon the
sea; for there the sharp contention has been not only between man and
man but between nature and man as well. A double portion of heroic
spirit is needed to meet the double demand. That is the reason we love
the sea. It is this Homeric spirit of the Ocean Masters that fills the
dreams of youth and stirs the memories of old age.
In these dreams and memories the veriest boy catches glimpses of the
perpetual Titanic struggle of, and on, the deep; dimly discerning in
his youthful way, a thousand generations of heroic achievement before,
and through which, he begins to be; and he realizes that the ocean
affords such a field for the exhibition of every high quality that
goes to make a man as may be found nowhere else. The deck of the ship
is the arena upon which he can play a mighty part, and he loves it. In
imagination the boy now discovers a new world, like Columbus and
America; in dreams he opens a vast empire to civilization, like Perry
in Japan; sometimes he fights the battles of the free, like Nelson at
Trafalgar; or he strikes for his own flag on the decks of some gallant
_Constitution_. If he be a sportsman, he may pursue the great fighting
sperm-whale, or angle for “Jack Sharkee;” if an adventurer, he may
seek to pierce the icy barrier of mystery ringed about that polar star
by which he guides his ship; if a trader, he may visit strange lands
and seek new markets for his product; if a missionary, he may carry
his gospel of good tidings to dark peoples, ignorant of the meaning of
that southern cross which flashes in splendor above them in the
midnight heavens, and tell to them the story of the Ruler of the deep.
Wherever men achieve and do, wherever nations grow and prosper, they
have a mastery of the sea.
In these pages are gathered stories of the heroes of peace, not less
kings of the sea than those who have startled the mighty depths with
the thunder of their war-ship guns. The freshness, the freedom of it,
the joy and delight, the calm and rest, the strenuous life, the labor
and sorrow, the peril and danger, the reward and success, all are
here. We turn back some hundred years to go a-cruising with Cleveland.
We hunt the cachelot with Bullen. Our own Cooper takes us breathless
with the romantic Pilot over the dangers of the Devil’s Grip. Under
the Antarctic Circle we watch the sea lions play. Here a mighty
monster of the hideous depths seems to spread its tentacles across the
printed page in a struggle which Victor Hugo immortalizes. Flame and
smoke are those deadliest of perils to ships toward which gentle Jean
Ingelow conducts us. The sudden mutiny, the long cruise in the small
boat, the lonely islet affording the shipwrecked a haven, appeal to us
in these pages. We drift through the teeming waters of the Gulf
Stream. Daniel DeFoe, and Melville and Marryat and Cupples and Russell
and Kingston, unroll before us the panorama of the ocean. There are
also men great in other fields of letters who have felt the witchery
of the sea and tell us what it says to them—Charles Dickens, Pierre
Loti, Stevenson, Charles Reade, and Kingsley.
We envy the boy or girl who reads these tales for the first time. Fain
would we again enjoy such a happy privilege. And our envy deepens when
we think of the wide range of literature to which this volume will
introduce them. Lucky young people who open such pages for a first
glance!
Cyrus Townsend Brady
Philadelphia, Penna.
December 20th, 1901.
A BOOK OF SEA STORIES
NARRATIVE OF THE MUTINY OF THE BOUNTY
(From Chambers’s Miscellany.)
About the year 1786, the merchants and planters interested in the West
India Islands became anxious to introduce an exceedingly valuable
plant, the bread-fruit tree, into these possessions, and as this could
best be done by a government expedition, a request was preferred to
the crown accordingly. The ministry at the time being favorable to the
proposed undertaking, a vessel, named the Bounty, was selected to
execute the desired object. To the command of this ship Captain W.
Bligh was appointed, Aug. 16, 1787. The burden of the Bounty was
nearly two hundred and fifteen tons. The establishment of men and
officers for the ship was as follows:—1 lieutenant to command, 1
master, 1 boatswain, 1 gunner, 1 carpenter, 1 surgeon, 2 master’s
mates, 2 midshipmen, 2 quarter-masters, 1 quarter-master’s mate, 1
boatswain’s mate, 1 gunner’s mate, 1 carpenter’s mate, 1 carpenter’s
crew, 1 sailmaker, 1 armorer, 1 corporal, 1 clerk and steward, 23 able
seamen—total, 44. The addition of two men appointed to take care of
the plants, made the whole ship’s crew amount to 46. The ship was
stored and victualled for eighteen months.
Thus prepared, the Bounty set sail on the 23d of December, and what
ensued will be best told in the language of Captain Bligh.
_Monday, 27th April 1789._—The wind being northerly in the evening, we
steered to the westward, to pass to the south of Tofoa. I gave
directions for this course to be continued during the night. The
master had the first watch, the gunner the middle watch, and Mr.
Christian the morning watch.
_Tuesday, 28th._—Just before sunrising, while I was yet asleep, Mr.
Christian, with the master-at-arms, gunner’s mate, and Thomas Burkitt,
seaman, came into my cabin, and seizing me, tied my hands with a cord
behind my back, threatening me with instant death if I spoke or made
the least noise. I, however, called as loud as I could, in hopes of
assistance; but they had already secured the officers who were not of
their party, by placing sentinels at their doors. There were three men
at my cabin door, besides the four within; Christian had only a
cutlass in his hand, the others had muskets and bayonets. I was pulled
out of bed, and forced on deck in my shirt, suffering great pain from
the tightness with which they had tied my hands. I demanded the reason
of such violence, but received no other answer than abuse for not
holding my tongue. The master, the gunner, the surgeon, Mr.
Elphinstone, master’s mate, and Nelson, were kept confined below, and
the fore-hatchway was guarded by sentinels. The boatswain and
carpenter, and also the clerk, Mr. Samuel, were allowed to come upon
deck. The boatswain was ordered to hoist the launch out, with a threat
if he did not do it instantly to take care of himself.
When the boat was out, Mr. Hayward and Mr. Hallett, two of the
midshipmen, and Mr. Samuel, were ordered into it. I demanded what
their intention was in giving this order, and endeavored to persuade
the people near me not to persist in such acts of violence; but it was
to no effect. Christian changed the cutlass which he had in his hand
for a bayonet that was brought to him, and holding me with a strong
grip by the cord that tied my hands, he with many oaths threatened to
kill me immediately if I would not be quiet; the villains round me had
their pieces cocked and bayonets fixed. Particular people were called
on to go into the boat, and were hurried over the side, whence I
concluded that with these people I was to be set adrift. I therefore
made another effort to bring about a change, but with no other effect
than to be threatened with having my brains blown out.
The boatswain and seamen who were to go in the boat were allowed to
collect twine, canvas, lines, sails, cordage, an eight-and-twenty-gallon
cask of water, and Mr. Samuel got a hundred and fifty pounds of bread,
with a small quantity of rum and wine, also a quadrant and compass;
but he was forbidden, on pain of death, to touch either map, ephemeris,
book of astronomical observations, sextant, time-keeper, or any of my
surveys or drawings.
The officers were next called upon deck, and forced over the side into
the boat, while I was kept apart from every one abaft the mizzen-mast.
Isaac Martin, one of the guard over me, I saw had an inclination to
assist me, and, as he fed me with shaddock (my lips being quite
parched), we explained our wishes to each other by our looks; but this
being observed, Martin was removed from me. He then attempted to leave
the ship, for which purpose he got into the boat; but with many
threats they obliged him to return. The armorer, Joseph Coleman, and
two of the carpenters, M’Intosh and Norman, were also kept contrary to
their inclination; and they begged of me, after I was astern in the
boat, to remember that they declared that they had no hand in the
transaction. Michael Byrne, I am told, likewise wanted to leave the
ship.
It appeared to me that Christian was some time in doubt whether he
should keep the carpenter or his mates; at length he determined on the
latter, and the carpenter was ordered into the boat. He was permitted,
but not without some opposition, to take his tool-chest. The officers
and men being in the boat, they only waited for me, of which the
master-at-arms informed Christian; who then said, “Come, Captain
Bligh, your officers and men are now in the boat, and you must go with
them; if you attempt to make the least resistance, you will instantly
be put to death:” and without further ceremony, with a tribe of armed
ruffians about me, I was forced over the side, where they untied my
hands. Being in the boat, we were veered astern by a rope. A few
pieces of pork were thrown to us, and some clothes, also four
cutlasses; and it was then that the armorer and carpenters called out
to me to remember that they had no hand in the transaction. After
having undergone a great deal of ridicule, and having been kept some
time to make sport for these unfeeling wretches, we were at length
cast adrift in the open ocean.
I had eighteen persons with me in the boat. There remained on board
the Bounty twenty-five hands, the most able men of the ship’s company.
Having little or no wind, we rowed pretty fast towards Tofoa, which
bore north-east about ten leagues from us. While the ship was in
sight, she steered to the west-north-west; but I considered this only
as a feint; for when we were sent away, “Huzza for Otaheite!” was
frequently heard among the mutineers.
It will very naturally be asked, What could be the reason for such a
revolt? In answer to which, I can only conjecture that the mutineers
had flattered themselves with the hopes of a more happy life among the
Otaheitans than they could possibly enjoy in England; and this, joined
to some female connections, most probably occasioned the whole
transaction. The women at Otaheite are handsome, mild and cheerful in
their manners and conversation, possessed of great sensibility, and
have sufficient delicacy to make them admired and beloved. The chiefs
were so much attached to our people, that they rather encouraged their
stay among them than otherwise, and even made them promises of large
possessions. Under these, and many other attendant circumstances
equally desirable, it is now perhaps not so much to be wondered at,
though scarcely possible to have been foreseen, that a set of sailors,
most of them void of connections, should be led away: especially when,
in addition to such powerful inducements, they imagined it in their
power to fix themselves in the midst of plenty, on one of the finest
islands in the world, where they need not labor, and where the
allurements of dissipation are beyond anything that can be conceived.
FATE OF THE CASTAWAYS.
My first determination was to seek a supply of breadfruit and water at
Tofoa, and afterwards to sail for Tongataboo, and there risk a
solicitation to Poulaho, the king, to equip our boat, and grant us a
supply of water and provisions, so as to enable us to reach the East
Indies. The quantity of provisions I found in the boat was a hundred
and fifty pounds of bread, sixteen pieces of pork, each piece weighing
two pounds, six quarts of rum, six bottles of wine, with twenty-eight
gallons of water, and four empty barrecoes.
We got to Tofoa when it was dark, but found the shore so steep and
rocky that we could not land. We were obliged, therefore, to remain
all night in the boat, keeping it on the lee-side of the island, with
two oars. Next day (Wednesday, April 29) we found a cove, where we
landed. I observed the latitude of this cove to be 19 degrees 41
minutes south. This is the northwest part of Tofoa, the
north-westernmost of the Friendly Islands. As I was resolved to spare
the small stock of provisions we had in the boat, we endeavored to
procure something towards our support on the island itself. For two
days we ranged through the island in parties, seeking for water, and
anything in the shape of provisions, subsisting, meanwhile, on morsels
of what we had brought with us. The island at first seemed
uninhabited, but on Friday, May 1, one of our exploring parties met
with two men, a woman, and a child: the men came with them to the
cove, and brought two cocoa-nut shells of water. I endeavored to make
friends of these people, and sent them away for bread-fruit,
plantains, and water. Soon after, other natives came to us; and by
noon there were thirty about us, from whom we obtained a small supply.
I was much puzzled in what manner to account to the natives for the
loss of my ship: I knew they had too much sense to be amused with a
story that the ship was to join me, when she was not in sight from the
hills. I was at first doubtful whether I should tell the real fact, or
say that the ship had overset and sunk, and that we only were saved:
the latter appeared to be the most proper and advantageous for us, and
I accordingly instructed my people, that we might all agree in one
story. As I expected, inquiries were made about the ship, and they
seemed readily satisfied with our account; but there did not appear
the least symptom of joy or sorrow in their faces, although I fancied
I discovered some marks of surprise. Some of the natives were coming
and going the whole afternoon.
Towards evening, I had the satisfaction to find our stock of
provisions somewhat increased; but the natives did not appear to have
much to spare. What they brought was in such small quantities, that I
had no reason to hope we should be able to procure from them
sufficient to stock us for our voyage. At night, I served a quarter of
a bread-fruit and a cocoa-nut to each person for supper; and a good
fire being made, all but the watch went to sleep.
_Saturday, 2d._—As there was no certainty of our being supplied with
water by the natives, I sent a party among the gullies in the
mountains, with empty shells, to see what could be found. In their
absence the natives came about us, as I expected, and in greater
numbers; two canoes also came in from round the north side of the
island. In one of them was an elderly chief, called Macca-ackavow.
Soon after, some of our foraging party returned, and with them came a
good-looking chief, called Egijeefow, or Eefow.
Their affability was of short duration, for the natives began to
increase in number, and I observed some symptoms of a design against
us. Soon after, they attempted to haul the boat on shore, on which I
brandished my cutlass in a threatening manner, and spoke to Eefow to
desire them to desist; which they did, and everything became quiet
again. My people, who had been in the mountains, now returned with
about three gallons of water. I kept buying up the little bread-fruit
that was brought to us, and likewise some spears to arm my men with,
having only four cutlasses, two of which were in the boat. As we had
no means of improving our situation, I told our people I would wait
till sunset, by which time, perhaps, something might happen in our
favor; for if we attempted to go at present, we must fight our way
through, which we could do more advantageously at night; and that, in
the meantime, we would endeavor to get off to the boat what we had
bought. The beach was lined with the natives, and we heard nothing but
the knocking of stones together, which they had in each hand. I knew
very well this was the sign of an attack. At noon I served a cocoa-nut
and a bread-fruit to each person for dinner, and gave some to the
chiefs, with whom I continued to appear intimate and friendly. They
frequently importuned me to sit down, but I as constantly refused; for
it occurred both to Nelson and myself that they intended to seize hold
of me, if I gave them such an opportunity. Keeping, therefore,
constantly on our guard, we were suffered to eat our uncomfortable
meal in some quietness.
After dinner, we began, by little and little, to get our things into
the boat, which was a troublesome business, on account of the surf. I
carefully watched the motions of the natives, who continued to
increase in number; and found that, instead of their intention being
to leave us, fires were made, and places fixed on for their stay
during the night. Consultations were also held among them, and
everything assured me we should be attacked. I sent orders to the
master that, when he saw us coming down, he should keep the boat close
to the shore, that we might the more readily embark.
The sun was near setting when I gave the word, on which every person
who was on shore with me boldly took up his proportion of things and
carried them to the boat. The chiefs asked me if I would not stay with
them all night. I said “No, I never sleep out of my boat; but in the
morning we will again trade with you, and I shall remain till the
weather is moderate, that we may go, as we have agreed, to see
Poulaho, at Tongataboo.” Macca-ackavow then got up and said, “You will
not sleep on shore, then, Mattie?” (which directly signifies, we will
kill you); and he left me. The onset was now preparing: every one, as
I have described before, kept knocking stones together; and Eefow
quitted me. All but two or three things were in the boat, when we
walked down the beach, every one in a silent kind of horror. We all
got into the boat except one man, who, while I was getting on board,
quitted it, and ran up the beach to cast the sternfast off,
notwithstanding the master and others called to him to return, while
they were hauling me out of the water.
I was no sooner in the boat than the attack began by about two hundred
men; the unfortunate poor man who had run up the beach was knocked
down, and the stones flew like a shower of shot. Many Indians got hold
of the stern rope, and were near hauling the boat on shore, which they
would certainly have effected, if I had not had a knife in my pocket,
with which I cut the rope. We then hauled off to the grapnel, every
one being more or less hurt. At this time I saw five of the natives
about the poor man they had killed, and two of them were beating him
about the head with stones in their hands.
We had no time to reflect, for, to my surprise, they filled their
canoes with stones, and twelve men came off after us to renew the
attack; which they did so effectually, as to nearly disable us all. We
were obliged to sustain the attack without being able to return it,
except with such stones as lodged in the boat. I adopted the expedient
of throwing overboard some clothes, which, as I expected, they stopped
to pick up; and as it was by this time almost dark, they gave over the
attack, and returned towards the shore, leaving us to reflect on our
unhappy situation.
The poor man killed by the natives was John Norton: this was his
second voyage with me as a quarter-master, and his worthy character
made me lament his loss very much. He has left an aged parent, I am
told, whom he supported.
We set our sails, and steered along shore by the west side of the
island of Tofoa, the wind blowing fresh from the eastward. My mind was
employed in considering what was best to be done, when I was solicited
by all hands to take them towards home; and when I told them that no
hopes of relief for us remained, except what might be found at New
Holland, till I came to Timor, a distance of full twelve hundred
leagues, where there was a Dutch settlement, but in what part of the
island I knew not, they all agreed to live on one ounce of bread and a
quarter of a pint of water per day. Therefore, after examining our
stock of provisions, and recommending to them, in the most solemn
manner, not to depart from their promise, we bore away across a sea
where the navigation is but little known, in a small boat,
twenty-three feet long from stem to stern, deep laden with eighteen
men. I was happy, however, to see that every one seemed better
satisfied with our situation than myself.
Our stock of provisions consisted of about one hundred and fifty
pounds of bread, twenty-eight gallons of water, twenty pounds of pork,
three bottles of wine, and five quarts of rum. The difference between
this and the quantity we had on leaving the ship was principally owing
to our loss in the bustle and confusion of the attack. A few
cocoa-nuts were in the boat, and some bread-fruit, but the latter was
trampled to pieces.
_Sunday, 3d._—At daybreak the gale increased; the sun rose very fiery
and red—a sure indication of a severe gale of wind. At eight it blew a
violent storm, and the sea ran very high, so that between the seas the
sail was becalmed, and when on the top of the sea, it was too much to
have set; but we could not venture to take in the sail, for we were in
very imminent danger and distress, the sea curling over the stern of
the boat, which obliged us to bail with all our might. A situation
more distressing has perhaps seldom been experienced.
Our bread was in bags, and in danger of being spoiled by the wet: to
be starved to death was inevitable, if this could not be prevented. I
therefore began to examine what clothes there were in the boat, and
what other things could be spared; and having determined that only two
suits should be kept for each person, the rest was thrown overboard,
with some rope and spare sails, which lightened the boat considerably,
and we had more room to bail the water out.
Fortunately the carpenter had good chest in the boat, in which we
secured the bread the first favorable moment. His tool-chest also was
cleared, and the tools stowed in the bottom of the boat, so that this
became a second convenience.
I served a teaspoonful of rum to each person (for we were very wet and
cold), with a quarter of a breadfruit, which was scarce eatable, for
dinner. Our engagement was now strictly to be carried into execution,
and I was fully determined to make our provisions last eight weeks,
let the daily proportion be ever so small.
_Monday, 4th._—At daylight our limbs were so benumbed, that we could
scarcely find the use of them. At this time I served a teaspoonful of
rum to each person, from which we all found great benefit. Just before
noon, we discovered a small flat island, of a moderate height, bearing
west-south-west four or five leagues. I observed our latitude to be 18
degrees 58 minutes south; our longitude was, by account, 3 degrees 4
minutes west from the island of Tofoa, having made a north 72 degrees
west course, distance ninety-five miles, since yesterday noon. I
divided five small cocoa-nuts for our dinner, and every one was
satisfied. During the rest of that day we discovered ten or twelve
other islands, none of which we approached. At night I served a few
broken pieces of bread-fruit for supper, and performed prayers.
_Tuesday, 5th._—The night having been fair, we awoke after a tolerable
rest, and contentedly breakfasted on a few pieces of yams that were
found in the boat. After breakfast we examined our bread, a great deal
of which was damaged and rotten; this, nevertheless, we were glad to
keep for use. We passed two islands in the course of the day. For
dinner I served some of the damaged bread, and a quarter of a pint of
water.
_Wednesday, 6th._—We still kept our course in the direction of the
North of New Holland, passing numerous islands of various sizes, at
none of which I ventured to land. Our allowance for the day was a
quarter of a pint of cocoa-nut milk, and the meat, which did not
exceed two ounces to each person. It was received very contentedly,
but we suffered great drought. To our great joy we hooked a fish, but
we were miserably disappointed by its being lost in trying to get it
into the boat.
As our lodgings were very miserable, and confined for want of room, I
endeavored to remedy the latter defect by putting ourselves at watch
and watch; so that one-half always sat up while the other lay down on
the boat’s bottom, or upon a chest, with nothing to cover us but the
heavens. Our limbs were dreadfully cramped, for we could not stretch
them out; and the nights were so cold, and we so constantly wet, that,
after a few hours’ sleep, we could scarcely move.
_Thursday, 7th._—Being very wet and cold, I served a spoonful of rum
and a morsel of bread for breakfast. We still kept sailing among the
islands, from one of which two large canoes put out in chase of us;
but we left them behind. Whether these canoes had any hostile
intention against us must remain a doubt: perhaps we might have
benefited by an intercourse with them; but, in our defenceless
situation, to have made the experiment would have been risking too
much.
I imagine these to be the islands called Feejee, as their extent,
direction, and distance from the Friendly Islands answer to the
description given of them by those islanders. Heavy rain came on at
four o’clock, when every person did their utmost to catch some water,
and we increased our stock to thirty-four gallons, besides quenching
our thirst for the first time since we had been at sea; but an
attendant consequence made us pass the night very miserably, for,
being extremely wet, and having no dry things to shift or cover us, we
experienced cold shiverings scarcely to be conceived. Most fortunately
for us, the forenoon, Friday 8th, turned out fair, and we stripped and
dried our clothes. The allowance I issued to-day was an ounce and a
half of pork, a teaspoonful of rum, half a pint of cocoa-nut milk, and
an ounce of bread. The rum, though so small in quantity, was of the
greatest service. A fishing-line was generally towing from the stern
of the boat, but though we saw great numbers of fish, we could never
catch one.
In the afternoon we cleaned out the boat, and it employed us till
sunset to get everything dry and in order. Hitherto I had issued the
allowance by guess, but I now made a pair of scales with two cocoa-nut
shells, and having accidentally some pistol-balls in the boat,
twenty-five of which weighed one pound, or sixteen ounces, I adopted
one[1] as the proportion of weight that each person should receive of
bread at the times I served it. I also amused all hands with
describing the situation of New Guinea and New Holland, and gave them
every information in my power, that, in case any accident happened to
me, those who survived might have some idea of what they were about,
and be able to find their way to Timor, which at present they knew
nothing of more than the name, and some not even that. At night I
served a quarter of a pint of water and half an ounce of bread for
supper.
[Footnote 1: It weighed 272 grains.]
_Saturday, 9th._—About nine in the evening the clouds began to gather,
and we had a prodigious fall of rain, with severe thunder and
lightning. By midnight we caught about twenty gallons of water. Being
miserably wet and cold, I served to the people a teaspoonful of rum
each, to enable them to bear with their distressed situation. The
weather continued extremely bad, and the wind increased; we spent a
very miserable night, without sleep, except such as could be got in
the midst of rain. The day brought no relief but its light. The sea
broke over us so much, that two men were constantly bailing; and we
had no choice how to steer, being obliged to keep before the waves,
for fear of the boat filling.
The allowance now regularly served to each person was 1-25th of a
pound of bread, and a quarter of a pint of water, at eight in the
morning, at noon, and at sunset. To-day I gave about half an ounce of
pork for dinner, which, though any moderate person would have
considered only as a mouthful, was divided into three or four.
All Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, the wet
weather continued, with heavy seas and squalls. As there was no
prospect of getting our clothes dried, my plan was to make every one
strip, and wring them through the salt water, by which means they
received a warmth that, while wet with rain, they could not have. We
were constantly shipping seas and bailing, and were very wet and cold
during the night. The sight of the islands which we were always
passing served only to increase the misery of our situation. We were
very little better than starving, with plenty in view; yet to attempt
procuring any relief was attended with so much danger, that prolonging
of life, even in the midst of misery, was thought preferable, while
there remained hopes of being able to surmount our hardships. For my
own part, I consider the general run of cloudy and wet weather to be a
blessing of Providence. Hot weather would have caused us to have died
with thirst, and probably being so constantly covered with rain or sea
protected us from that dreadful calamity.
_Saturday, 16th._—The sun breaking out through the clouds gave us
hopes of drying our wet clothes; but the sunshine was of short
duration. We had strong breezes at south-east by south, and dark
gloomy weather, with storms of thunder, lightning, and rain. The night
was truly horrible, and not a star to be seen, so that our steerage
was uncertain.
_Sunday, 17th._—At dawn of day I found every person complaining, and
some of them solicited extra allowance, which I positively refused.
Our situation was miserable; always wet, and suffering extreme cold
during the night, without the least shelter from the weather. Being
constantly obliged to bail, to keep the boat from filling, was perhaps
not to be reckoned an evil, as it gave us exercise.
The little rum we had was of great service. When our nights were
particularly distressing, I generally served a teaspoonful or two to
each person; and it was always joyful tidings when they heard of my
intentions.
The night was dark and dismal, the sea constantly breaking over us,
and nothing but the wind and waves to direct our steerage. It was my
intention, if possible, to make to New Holland, to the southward of
Endeavor Straits, being sensible that it was necessary to preserve
such a situation as would make a southerly wind a fair one; that we
might range along the reefs till an opening should be found into
smooth water, and we the sooner be able to pick up some refreshments.
Monday and Tuesday were terrible days, heavy rain with lightning. We
were always bailing. On Wednesday the 20th, at dawn of day, some of my
people seemed half dead. Our appearance was horrible, and I could look
no way but I caught the eye of some one in distress. Extreme hunger
was now too evident; but no one suffered from thirst, nor had we much
inclination to drink—that desire, perhaps, being satisfied through the
skin. The little sleep we got was in the midst of water, and we
constantly awoke with severe cramps and pains in our bones.
Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, we were in the same distressed
condition, and I began to fear that such another night or two would
put an end to us. On Saturday, however, the wind moderated in the
evening, and the weather looked much better, which rejoiced all hands,
so that they ate their scanty allowance with more satisfaction than
for some time past. The night also was fair; but being always wet with
the sea, we suffered much from the cold.
_Sunday, 24th._—A fine morning, I had the pleasure to see produce some
cheerful countenances; and the first time, for fifteen days past, we
experienced comfort from the warmth of the sun. We stripped, and hung
our clothes up to dry, which were by this time become so threadbare,
that they would not keep out either wet or cold.
This afternoon we had many birds about us which are never seen far
from land, such as boobies and noddies. As the sea began to run fair,
and we shipped but little water, I took the opportunity to examine
into the state of our bread, and found that, according to the present
mode of issuing, there was a sufficient quantity remaining for
twenty-nine days’ allowance, by which time I hoped we should be able
to reach Timor; but as this was very uncertain, and it was possible
that, after all, we might be obliged to go to Java, I determined to
proportion the allowance so as to make our stock hold out six weeks. I
was apprehensive that this would be ill received, and that it would
require my utmost resolution to enforce it; for small as the quantity
was which I intended to take away for our future good, yet it might
appear to my people like robbing them of life; and some, who were less
patient than their companions, I expected would very ill brook it.
However, on my representing the necessity of guarding against delays
that might be occasioned in our voyage by contrary winds or other
causes, and promising to enlarge upon the allowance as we got on, they
cheerfully agreed to my proposal. It was accordingly settled that
every person should receive 1-25th of a pound of bread for breakfast,
and the same quantity for dinner; so that, by omitting the proportion
for supper, we had forty-three days’ allowance.
_Monday, 25th._—At noon some noddies came so near to us, that one of
them was caught by hand. This bird was about the size of a small
pigeon. I divided it, with its entrails, into eighteen portions, and
by a well-known method at sea, of “Who shall have this?”[2] it was
distributed, with the allowance of bread and water for dinner, and ate
up, bones and all, with salt water for sauce. I observed the latitude
13 degrees 32 minutes south; longitude made 35 degrees 19 minutes
west; course north 89 degrees west, distance one hundred and eight
miles.
[Footnote 2: One person turns his back on the object that is to be
divided; another then points separately to the portions, at each of
them asking aloud, “Who shall have this?” to which the first answers
by naming somebody. This impartial method of division gives every man
an equal chance of the best share.]
In the evening, several boobies flying very near to us, we had the
good fortune to catch one of them. This bird is as large as a duck. I
directed the bird to be killed for supper, and the blood to be given
to three of the people who were most distressed for want of food. The
body, with the entrails, beak, and feet, I divided into eighteen
shares, and, with an allowance of bread, which I made a merit of
granting, we made a good supper, compared with our usual fare.
Sailing on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, I at length became
satisfied that we were approaching New Holland. This was actually the
case; and after passing the reefs which bound that part of the coast,
we found ourselves in smooth water. Two islands lay about four miles
to the west by north, and appeared eligible for a resting-place, if
for nothing more; but on our approach to the nearest island, it proved
to be only a heap of stones, and its size too inconsiderable to
shelter the boat. We therefore proceeded to the next, which was close
to it, and towards the main. We landed to examine if there were any
signs of the natives being near us: we saw some old fireplaces, but
nothing to make me apprehend that this would be an unsafe situation
for the night. Every one was anxious to find something to eat, and it
was soon discovered that there were oysters on these rocks, for the
tide was out; but it was nearly dark, and only a few could be
gathered. I determined, therefore, to wait till the morning, when I
should know better how to proceed.
_Friday, 29th._—As there were no appearances to make me imagine that
any of the natives were near us, I sent out parties in search of
supplies, while others of the people were putting the boat in order.
The parties returned, highly rejoiced at having found plenty of
oysters and fresh water. I had also made a fire by the help of a small
magnifying glass; and, what was still more fortunate, we found among a
few things which had been thrown into the boat, and saved, a piece of
brimstone and a tinder-box, so that I secured fire for the future.
One of the people had been so provident as to bring away with him from
the ship a copper pot: by being in possession of this article, we were
enabled to make a proper use of the supply we now obtained; for, with
a mixture of bread, and a little pork, we made a stew that might have
been relished by people of far more delicate appetites, and of which
each person received a full pint. The general complaints of disease
among us were a dizziness in the head, great weakness of the joints,
and violent tenesmus.
The oysters which we found grew so fast to the rocks, that it was with
difficulty they could be broken off, and at length we discovered it to
be the most expeditious way to open them where they were fixed. They
were of a good size, and well tasted. To add to this happy
circumstance, in the hollow of the land there grew some wire-grass,
which indicated a moist situation. On forcing a stick about three feet
long into the ground, we found water, and with little trouble dug a
well, which produced as much as our necessities required.
As the day was the anniversary of the restoration of King Charles II.,
I named the island Restoration Island. Our short stay there, with the
supplies which it afforded us, made a visible alteration for the
better in our appearance. Next day, Saturday the 30th, at four
o’clock, we were preparing to embark, when about twenty of the natives
appeared, running and hallooing to us, on the opposite shore. They
were each armed with a spear or lance, and a short weapon which they
carried in their left hand. They made signs for us to come to them,
but I thought it prudent to make the best of our way. They were naked,
and apparently black, and their hair or wool bushy and short.
_Sunday, 31st._—Many small islands were in sight to the northeast. We
landed at one of a good height, bearing north one-half west. The shore
was rocky, but the water was smooth, and we landed without difficulty.
I sent two parties out, one to the northward, and the other to the
southward, to seek for supplies, and others I ordered to stay by the
boat. On this occasion fatigue and weakness so far got the better of
their sense of duty, that some of the people expressed their
discontent at having worked harder than their companions, and declared
that they would rather be without their dinner, than go in search of
it. One person, in particular, went so far as to tell me, with a
mutinous look, that he was as good a man as myself. It was not
possible for me to judge where this might have an end, if not stopped
in time; therefore, to prevent such disputes in future, I determined
either to preserve my command, or die in the attempt; and seizing a
cutlass, I ordered him to take hold of another and defend himself, on
which he called out that I was going to kill him, and immediately made
concessions. I did not allow this to interfere further with the
harmony of the boat’s crew and everything soon became quiet. We here
procured some oysters and clams, also some dog-fish caught in the
holes of the rocks, and a supply of water.
Leaving this island, which I named Sunday Island, we continued our
course towards Endeavor Straits. During our voyage Nelson became very
ill, but gradually recovered. Next day we landed at another island, to
see what we could get. There were proofs that the island was
occasionally visited by natives from New Holland. Encamping on the
shore, I sent out one party to watch for turtle, and another to try to
catch birds. About midnight the bird party returned, with only twelve
noddies, birds which I have already described to be about the size of
pigeons; but if it had not been for the folly and obstinacy of one of
the party, who separated from the other two, and disturbed the birds,
they might have caught a great number. I was so much provoked at my
plans being thus defeated, that I gave this offender a good beating.
This man afterwards confessed that, wandering away from his
companions, he had eaten nine birds raw. Our turtling party had no
success.
Tuesday and Wednesday we still kept our course north-west, touching
at an island or two for oysters and clams. We had now been six days on
the coast of New Holland, and but for the refreshment which our visit
to its shores afforded us, it is all but certain that we must have
perished. Now, however, it became clear that we were leaving it
behind, and were commencing our adventurous voyage through the open
sea to Timor.
On Wednesday, June 3d, at eight o’clock in the evening, we once more
launched into the open ocean. Miserable as our situation was in every
respect, I was secretly surprised to see that it did not appear to
affect any one so strongly as myself. I encouraged every one with
hopes that eight or ten days would bring us to a land of safety; and
after praying to God for a continuance of his most gracious
protection, I served an allowance of water for supper, and directed
our course to the west-south-west, to counteract the southerly winds
in case they should blow strong. For six days our voyage continued; a
dreary repetition of those sufferings which we had experienced before
reaching New Holland. In the course of the night we were constantly
wet with the sea, and exposed to cold and shiverings; and in the
daytime we had no addition to our scanty allowance, save a booby and a
small dolphin that we caught, the former on Friday the 5th, and the
latter on Monday the 8th. Many of us were ill, and the men complained
heavily. On Wednesday the 10th, after a very comfortless night, there
was a visible alteration for the worse in many of the people, which
gave me great apprehensions. An extreme weakness, swelled legs, hollow
and ghastly countenances, a more than common inclination to sleep,
with an apparent debility of understanding, seemed to me the
melancholy presages of an approaching dissolution.
_Thursday, 11th._—Every one received the customary allowance of bread
and water, and an extra allowance of water was given to those who were
most in need. At noon I observed in latitude 9 degrees 41 minutes
south; course south 77 degrees west, distance 109 miles; longitude
made 13 degrees 49 minutes west. I had little doubt of having now
passed the meridian of the eastern part of Timor, which is laid down
in 128 degrees east. This diffused universal joy and satisfaction.
_Friday, 12th._—At three in the morning, with an excess of joy, we
discovered Timor bearing from west-south-west to west-north-west, and
I hauled on a wind to the north-north-east till daylight, when the
land bore from south-west by south to north-east by north; our
distance from the shore two leagues. It is not possible for me to
describe the pleasure which the blessing of the sight of this land
diffused among us. It appeared scarcely credible to ourselves that, in
an open boat, and so poorly provided, we should have been able to
reach the coast of Timor in forty-one days after leaving Tofoa, having
in that time run, by our log, a distance of 3618 miles and that,
notwithstanding our extreme distress, no one should have perished in
the voyage.
I have already mentioned that I knew not where the Dutch settlement
was situated, but I had a faint idea that it was at the south-west
part of the island. I therefore, after daylight, bore away along shore
to the south-south-west, which I was the more readily induced to do,
as the wind would not suffer us to go towards the north-east without
great loss of time.
We coasted along the island in the direction in which I conceived the
Dutch settlement to lie, and next day, about two o’clock, I came to a
grapnel in a small sandy bay, where we saw a hut, a dog, and some
cattle. Here I learned that the Dutch governor resided at a place
called Coupang, which was some distance to the north-east. I made
signs for one of the Indians who came to the beach to go in the boat
and show us the way to Coupang, intimating that I would pay him for
his trouble; the man readily complied, and came into the boat. The
Indians, who were of a dark tawny color, brought us a few pieces of
dried turtle and some ears of Indian corn. This last was the most
welcome, for the turtle was so hard, that it could not be eaten
without being first soaked in hot water. They offered to bring us some
other refreshments, if I would wait; but, as the pilot was willing, I
determined to push on. It was about half-past four when we sailed.
_Sunday, 14th._—At one o’clock in the morning, after the most happy
and sweet sleep that ever men enjoyed, we weighed, and continued to
keep the east shore on board, in very smooth water. The report of two
cannon that were fired gave new life to every one; and soon after, we
discovered two square-rigged vessels and a cutter at anchor to the
eastward. After hard rowing, we came to a grapnel near daylight, off a
small fort and town, which the pilot told me was Coupang.
On landing, I was surrounded by many people, Indians and Dutch, with
an English sailor among them. A Dutch captain, named Spikerman, showed
me great kindness, and waited on the governor, who was ill, to know at
what time I could see him. Eleven o’clock having been appointed for
the interview, I desired my people to come on shore, which was as much
as some of them could do, being scarce able to walk; they, however,
were helped to Captain Spikerman’s house, and found tea, with bread
and butter, provided for their breakfast.
The abilities of a painter, perhaps, could seldom have been displayed
to more advantage than in the delineation of the two groups of figures
which at this time presented themselves to each other. An indifferent
spectator would have been at a loss which most to admire—the eyes of
famine sparkling at immediate relief, or the horror of their
preservers at the sight of so many spectres, whose ghastly
countenances, if the cause had been unknown, would rather have excited
terror than pity. Our bodies were nothing but skin and bone, our limbs
were full of sores, and we were clothed in rags: in this condition,
with tears of joy and gratitude flowing down our cheeks, the people of
Timor beheld us with a mixture of horror, surprise, and pity.
The governor, Mr. William Adrian Van Este, notwithstanding extreme ill
health, became so anxious about us, that I saw him before the
appointed time. He received me with great affection, and gave me the
fullest proofs that he was possessed of every feeling of a humane and
good man. Though his infirmity was so great that he could not do the
office of a friend himself, he said he would give such orders as I
might be certain would procure us every supply we wanted. A house
should be immediately prepared for me, and with respect to my people,
he said that I might have room for them either at the hospital or on
board of Captain Spikerman’s ship, which lay in the road....
FATE OF THE MUTINEERS—COLONY OF PITCAIRN’S ISLAND.
The intelligence of the mutiny, and the sufferings of Bligh and his
companions, naturally excited a great sensation in England. Bligh was
immediately promoted to the rank of commander, and Captain Edwards was
despatched to Otaheite, in the Pandora frigate, with instructions to
search for the Bounty and her mutinous crew, and bring them to
England. The Pandora reached Matavai Bay on the 23d of March, 1791;
and even before she had come to anchor, Joseph Coleman, formerly
armorer of the Bounty, pushed off from shore in a canoe, and came on
board. In the course of two days afterwards, the whole of the
remainder of the Bounty’s crew (in number sixteen) then on the island
surrendered themselves, with the exception of two, who fled to the
mountains, where, as it afterwards appeared, they were murdered by the
natives.
Nearly twenty years elapsed after the period of the above occurrences,
and all recollection of the Bounty and her wrecked crew had passed
away, when an accidental discovery, as interesting as unexpected, once
more recalled public attention to that event. The captain of an
American schooner having, in 1808, accidentally touched at an island
up to that time supposed to be uninhabited, called Pitcairn’s Island,
found a community speaking English, who represented themselves as the
descendants of the mutineers of the Bounty, of whom there was still
one man, of the name of Alexander Smith, alive amongst them.
Intelligence of this singular circumstance was sent by the American
captain (Folger) to Sir Sydney Smith at Valparaiso, and by him
transmitted to the Lords of the Admiralty. But the government was at
that time perhaps too much engaged in the events of the continental
war to attend to the information, nor was anything further heard of
this interesting little society until 1814. In that year two British
men-of-war, cruising in the Pacific, made Pitcairn’s Island, and on
nearing the shore, saw plantations regularly and orderly laid out.
Soon afterwards they observed a few natives coming down a steep
descent, with their canoes on their shoulders, and in a few minutes
perceived one of these little vessels darting through a heavy surf and
paddling off towards the ships. But their astonishment may be imagined
when, on coming alongside, they were hailed in good English with,
“Wont you heave us a rope now?” This being done, a young man sprang up
the side with extraordinary activity, and stood on the deck before
them. In answer to the question “Who are you?” he replied that his
name was Thursday October Christian, son of the late Fletcher
Christian, by an Otaheitan mother; that he was the first born on the
island, and was so named because he was born on a Thursday in October.
All this sounded singular and incredible in the ears of the British
captains, Sir Thomas Staines and Mr. Pipon; but they were soon
satisfied of its truth. Young Christian was at this time about
twenty-four years old, a tall handsome youth, fully six feet high,
with black hair, and an open interesting English countenance. As he
wore no clothes, except a piece of cloth round his loins, and a
straw-hat ornamented with black cock’s feathers, his fine figure and
well-shaped muscular limbs were displayed to great advantage, and
attracted general admiration. His body was much tanned by exposure to
the weather; but although his complexion was somewhat brown, it wanted
that tinge of red peculiar to the natives of the Pacific. He spoke
English correctly both in grammar and pronunciation; and his frank and
ingenuous deportment excited in every one the liveliest feelings of
compassion and interest. His companion was a fine handsome youth, of
seventeen or eighteen years of age, named George Young, son of one of
the Bounty’s midshipmen.
The youths expressed great surprise at everything they saw, especially
a cow, which they supposed to be either a huge goat or a horned sow,
having never seen any other quadrupeds. When questioned concerning the
Bounty, they referred the captains to an old man on shore, the only
surviving Englishman, whose name, they said, was John Adams, but who
proved to be the identical Alexander Smith before-mentioned, having
changed his name from some caprice or other. The officers went ashore
with the youths, and were received by old Adams (as we shall now call
him), who conducted them to his house, and treated them to an elegant
repast of eggs, fowl, yams, plantains, breadfruit, etc. They now
learned from him an account of the fate of his companions, who, with
himself, preferred accompanying Christian in the Bounty to remaining
at Otaheite—which account agreed with that he afterwards gave at
greater length to Captain Beechey in 1828. Our limits will not permit
us to detail all the interesting particulars at length, as we could
have wished, but they are in substance as follows:—
It was Christian’s object, in order to avoid the vengeance of the
British law, to proceed to some unknown and uninhabited island, and
the Marquesas Islands were first fixed upon. But Christian, on reading
Captain Cartaret’s account of Pitcairn’s Island, thought it better
adapted for the purpose, and shaped his course thither. Having landed
and traversed it, they found it every way suitable to their wishes,
possessing water, wood, a good soil, and some fruits. Having
ascertained all this, they returned on board, and having landed their
hogs, goats, and poultry, and gutted the ship of everything that could
be useful to them, they set fire to her, and destroyed every vestige
that might lead to the discovery of their retreat. This was on the 23d
of January 1790. The island was then divided into nine equal portions
amongst them, a suitable spot of neutral ground being reserved for a
village. The poor Otaheitans now found themselves reduced to the
condition of mere slaves; but they patiently submitted, and everything
went on peaceably for two years. About that time Williams, one of the
seamen, having the misfortune to lose his wife, forcibly took the wife
of one of the Otaheitans, which, together with their continued
ill-usage, so exasperated the latter, that they formed a plan for
murdering the whole of their oppressors. The plot, however, was
discovered, and revealed by the Englishmen’s wives, and two of the
Otaheitans were put to death. But the surviving natives soon
afterwards matured a more successful conspiracy, and in one day
murdered five of the Englishmen, including Christian. Adams and Young
were spared at the intercession of their wives, and the remaining two,
M’Koy and Quintal (two desperate ruffians), escaped to the mountains,
whence, however, they soon rejoined their companions. But the further
career of these two villains was short. M’Koy, having been bred up in
a Scottish distillery, succeeded in extracting a bottle of ardent
spirits from the _tee root_; from which time he and Quintal were never
sober, until the former became delirious, and committed suicide by
jumping over a cliff. Quintal being likewise almost insane with
drinking, made repeated attempts to murder Adams and Young, until they
were absolutely compelled, for their own safety, to put him to death,
which they did by felling him with a hatchet.
Adams and Young were at length the only surviving males who had landed
on the island, and being both of a serious turn of mind, and having
time for reflection and repentance, they became extremely devout.
Having saved a Bible and prayer-book from the Bounty, they now
performed family worship morning and evening, and addressed themselves
to training up their own children and those of their unfortunate
companions in piety and virtue. Young, however, was soon carried off
by an asthmatic complaint, and Adams was thus left to continue his
pious labors alone. At the time Captains Staines and Pipon visited the
island, this interesting little colony consisted of about forty-six
persons, mostly grown-up young people, all living in harmony and
happiness together; and not only professing, but fully understanding
and practising, the precepts and principles of the Christian religion.
Adams had instituted the ceremony of marriage, and he assured his
visitors that not one instance of debauchery and immoral conduct had
occurred amongst them.
The visitors having supplied these interesting people with some tools,
kettles, and other articles, took their leave. The account which they
transmitted home of this newly-discovered colony was, strange to say,
as little attended to by government as that of Captain Folger, and
nothing more was heard of Adams and his family for nearly twelve
years, when, in 1825, Captain Beechey, in the Blossom, bound on a
voyage of discovery to Behring Strait, touched at Pitcairn’s Island.
On the approach of the Blossom, a boat came off under all sail towards
the ship, containing old Adams and ten of the young men of the island.
After requesting and obtaining leave to come on board, the young men
sprung up the side, and shook every officer cordially by the hand.
Adams, who was grown very corpulent, followed more leisurely. He was
dressed in a sailor’s shirt and trousers, with a low-crowned hat,
which he held in his hand in sailor fashion, while he smoothed down
his bald forehead when addressed by the officers of the Blossom. The
little colony had now increased to about sixty-six, including an
English sailor of the name of John Buffett, who, at his own earnest
desire, had been left by a whaler. In this man the society luckily
found an able and willing schoolmaster. He instructed the children in
reading, writing, and arithmetic, and devoutly co-operated with old
Adams in affording religious instruction to the community. The
officers of the Blossom went ashore, and were entertained with a
sumptuous repast at young Christian’s, the table being spread with
plates, knives, and forks. Buffett said grace in an emphatic manner;
and so strict were they in this respect, that it was not deemed proper
to touch a morsel of bread without saying grace both before and after
it. The officers slept in the house all night, their bedclothing and
sheets consisting of the native cloth made of the native
mulberry-tree. The only interruption to their repose was the melody of
the evening hymn, which was chanted together by the whole family after
the lights were put out; and they were awakened at early dawn by the
same devotional ceremony. On Sabbath the utmost decorum was attended
to, and the day was passed in regular religious observances.
In consequence of a representation made by Captain Beechey, the
British government sent out Captain Waldegrave in 1830, in the
Seringapatam, with a supply of sailors’ blue jackets and trousers,
flannels, stockings and shoes, women’s dresses, spades, mattocks,
shovels, pickaxes, trowels, rakes, etc. He found their community
increased to about seventy-nine, all exhibiting the same
unsophisticated and amiable characteristics as we have before
described. Other two Englishmen had settled amongst them; one of them,
called Nobbs, a low-bred, illiterate man, a self-constituted
missionary, who was endeavoring to supersede Buffett in his office of
religious instructor. The patriarch Adams, it was found, had died in
March, 1829, aged sixty-five. While on his deathbed, he had called the
heads of families together, and urged upon them to elect a chief;
which, however, they had not yet done; but the greatest harmony still
prevailed amongst them, notwithstanding Nobbs’s exertions to form a
party of his own. Captain Waldegrave thought that the island, which is
about four miles square, might be able to support a thousand persons,
upon reaching which number they would naturally emigrate to other
islands.
Such is the account of this most singular colony, originating in crime
and bloodshed. Of all the repentant criminals on record, the most
interesting, perhaps, is John Adams; nor do we know where to find a
more beautiful example of the value of early instruction than in the
history of this man, who, having run the full career of nearly all
kinds of vice, was checked by an interval of leisurely reflection, and
the sense of new duties awakened by the power of natural affections.
OUR FIRST WHALE
(From the Cruise of the Cachalot.)
By FRANK T. BULLEN, First Mate.
Simultaneous ideas occurring to several people, or thought transference,
whatever one likes to call the phenomenon, is too frequent an occurrence
in most of our experience to occasion much surprise. Yet on the occasion
to which I am about to refer the matter was so very marked that few of
us who took part in the day’s proceedings are ever likely to forget
it. We were all gathered about the fo’lk’sle scuttle one evening, a
few days after the gale, and the question of whale-fishing came up for
discussion. Until that time, strange as it may seem, no word of this,
the central idea of all our minds, had been mooted. Every man seemed
to shun the subject, although we were in daily expectation of being
called upon to take an active part in whale-fighting. Once the ice was
broken, nearly all had something to say about it, and very nearly as
many addle-headed opinions were ventilated as at a Colney Hatch
debating society. For we none of us _knew_ anything about it. I was
appealed to continually to support this or that theory, but as far as
whaling went I could only, like the rest of them, draw upon my
imagination for details. How did a whale act, what were the first
steps taken, what chance was there of being saved if your boat got
smashed, and so on unto infinity. At last, getting very tired of this
“Portugee Parliament” of all talkers and no listeners, I went aft to
get a drink of water before turning in. The harpooners and other petty
officers were grouped in the waist, earnestly discussing the pros and
cons of attack upon whales. As I passed I heard the mate’s harpooner
say, “Feels like whale about. I bet a plug (of tobacco) we raise sperm
whale to-morrow.” Nobody took his bet, for it appeared that they were
mostly of the same mind, and while I was drinking I heard the officers
in dignified conclave talking over the same thing. It was Saturday
evening, and while at home people were looking forward to a day’s
respite from work and care, I felt that the coming day, though never
taken much notice of on board, was big with the probabilities of
strife such as I at least had at present no idea of. So firmly was I
possessed by the prevailing feeling.
The night was very quiet. A gentle breeze was blowing, and the sky was
of the usual “Trade” character; that is, a dome of dark blue fringed
at the horizon with peaceful cumulus clouds, almost motionless. I
turned in at 4 A.M. from the middle watch, and, as usual, slept
like a babe. Suddenly I started wide awake, a long mournful sound
sending a thrill to my very heart. As I listened breathlessly other
sounds of the same character, but in different tones, joined in, human
voices monotonously intoning in long-drawn-out expirations the single
word “bl-o-o-o-o-w.” Then came a hurricane of noise overhead, and
adjurations in no gentle language to the sleepers to “tumble up lively
there, no skulking; sperm whales.” At last, then, fulfilling all the
presentiments of yesterday, the long-dreaded moment had arrived.
Happily there was no time for hesitation—in less than two minutes we
were all on deck, and hurrying to our respective boats. There was no
flurry or confusion, and except that orders were given more quietly
than usual, with a manifest air of suppressed excitement, there was
nothing to show that we were not going for an ordinary course of boat
drill. The skipper was in the main crow’s-nest with his binoculars.
Presently he shouted, “Naow, then, Mr. Count, lower away soon’s
y’like. Small pod o’ cows, an’ one’r two bulls layin’ off to west’ard
of ’em.” Down went the boats into the water quietly enough, we all
scrambled in and shoved off. A stroke or two of the oars were given to
get clear of the ship and one another, then oars were shipped and up
went the sails. As I took my allotted place at the main-sheet, and the
beautiful craft started off like some big bird, Mr. Count leaned
forward, saying impressively to me, “Y’r a smart youngster, an’ I’ve
kinder took t’ yer; but don’t ye look ahead an’ get gallied, ’r I’ll
knock ye stiff wi’ th’ tiller; y’hear me? ’N’ don’t ye dare to make
thet sheet fast, ’r ye’ll die so sudden y’ won’t know whar y’r
hurted.” I said as cheerfully as I could, “All right, sir,” trying to
look unconcerned, telling myself not to be a coward, and all sorts of
things; but the cold truth is that I was scared almost to death
because I didn’t know what was coming. However, I did the best thing
under the circumstances, obeyed orders, and looked steadily astern, or
up into the bronzed, impassive face of my chief, who towered above me,
scanning with eagle eyes the sea ahead. The other boats were coming
flying along behind us, spreading wider apart as they came, while in
the bows of each stood the harpooner with his right hand on his first
iron, which lay ready, pointing over the bow in a raised fork of wood
called the “crutch.”
All of a sudden, at a motion of the chief’s hand, the peak of our
mainsail was dropped, and the boat swung up into the wind, lying “hove
to,” almost stationary. The centre-board was lowered to stop her
drifting to leeward, although I cannot say it made much difference
that ever I saw. _Now_ what’s the matter? I thought; when to my
amazement the chief, addressing me, said, “Wonder why we’ve hauled up,
don’t ye?” “Yes, sir, I do,” said I. “Wall,” said he, “the fish hev
sounded, an’ ef we run over ’em, we’ve seen the last ov ’em. So we
wait awhile till they rise agin, ’n then we’ll prob’ly git thar’ ’r
thareabouts before they sound agin.” With this explanation I had to be
content, although if it be no clearer to my readers than it then was
to me, I shall have to explain myself more fully later on. Silently we
lay, rocking lazily upon the gentle swell, no other word being spoken
by any one. At last Louis, the harpooner, gently breathed “blo-o-o-w”;
and there, sure enough, not half a mile away on the lee beam, was a
little bushy cloud of steam apparently rising from the sea. At almost
the same time as we kept away all the other boats did likewise, and
just then, catching sight of the ship, the reason for this apparently
concerted action was explained. At the main-mast head of the ship was
a square blue flag, and the ensign at the peak was being dipped. These
were signals well understood and promptly acted upon by those in
charge of the boats, who were thus guided from a point of view at
least one hundred feet above the sea.
“Stand up, Louey,” the mate murmured softly. I only just stopped
myself in time from turning my head to see why the order was given.
Suddenly there was a bump; at the same moment the mate yelled, “Giv’t
to him, Louey, give’t to him!” and to me, “Haul that main sheet, naow;
haul, why don’t ye?” I hauled it flat aft, and the boat shot up into
the wind, rubbing sides as she did so with what to my troubled sight
seemed an enormous mass of black india-rubber floating. As we
_crawled_ up into the wind, the whale went into convulsions befitting
his size and energy. He raised a gigantic tail on high, thrashing the
water with deafening blows, rolling at the same time from side to side
until the surrounding sea was white with froth. I felt in an agony
lest we should be crushed under one of those fearful strokes, for Mr.
Count appeared to be oblivious of possible danger, although we seemed
to be now drifting back on to the writhing leviathan. In the agitated
condition of the sea, it was a task of no ordinary difficulty to
unship the tall mast, which was of course the first thing to be done.
After a desperate struggle, and a narrow escape from falling overboard
of one of the men, we got the long “stick,” with the sail bundled
around it, down and “fleeted” aft, where it was secured by the simple
means of sticking the “heel” under the after thwart, two-thirds of the
mast extending out over the stern. Meanwhile, we had certainly been in
a position of the greatest danger, our immunity from damage being
unquestionably due to anything but precaution taken to avoid it.
By the time the oars were handled, and the mate had exchanged places
with the harpooner, our friend the enemy had “sounded”; that is, he
had gone below for a change of scene, marvelling no doubt what strange
thing had befallen him. Agreeably to the accounts which I, like most
boys, had read of the whale fishery, I looked for the rushing of the
line round the loggerhead (a stout wooden post built into the boat
aft), to raise a cloud of smoke with occasional bursts of flame; so as
it began to slowly surge round the post I timidly asked the harpooner
whether I should throw any water on it. “Wot for?” growled he, as he
took a couple more turns with it. Not knowing “what for,” and hardly
liking to quote my authorities here, I said no more, but waited
events. “Hold him up, Louey, hold him up, caint ye?” shouted the mate,
and to my horror, down went the nose of the boat almost under water,
while at the mate’s order everybody scrambled aft into the elevated
stern sheets.
The line sang quite a tune as it was grudgingly allowed to surge round
the loggerhead, filling one with admiration at the strength shown by
such a small rope. This sort of thing went on for about twenty
minutes, in which time we quite emptied the large tub and began on the
small one. As there was nothing whatever for us to do while this was
going on, I had ample leisure for observing the little game that was
being played about a quarter of a mile away, Mr. Cruce, the second
mate, had got a whale and was doing his best to kill it; but he was
severely handicapped by his crew, or rather had been, for two of them
were now temporarily incapable of either good or harm. They had gone
quite “batchy” with fright, requiring a not too gentle application of
the tiller to their heads in order to keep them quiet. The remedy, if
rough, was effectual, for “the subsequent proceedings interested them
no more.” Consequently his manœuvres were not so well or rapidly
executed as he, doubtless, could have wished, although his energy in
lancing that whale was something to admire and remember. Hatless, his
shirt-tail out of the waist of his trousers streaming behind him like
a banner, he lunged and thrust at the whale alongside of him as if
possessed of a destroying devil, while his half-articulate yells of
rage and blasphemy were audible even to us.
Suddenly our boat fell backward from her “slantin-dicular” position
with a jerk, and the mate immediately shouted, “Haul line, there! look
lively, now! you”—so on, _et cetera, et cetera_ (he seemed to invent
new epithets on every occasion). The line came in hand over hand, and
was coiled in a wide heap in the stern sheets, for, silky as it was,
it could not be expected in its wet state to lie very close. As it
came flying in, the mate kept a close gaze upon the water immediately
beneath us, apparently for the first glimpse of our antagonist. When
the whale broke water, however, he was some distance off, and
apparently as quiet as a lamb. Now, had Mr. Count been a prudent or
less ambitious man, our task would doubtless have been an easy one, or
comparatively so; but, being a little over-grasping, he got us all
into serious trouble. We were hauling up to our whale in order to
lance it, and the mate was standing, lance in hand, only waiting to
get near enough, when up comes a large whale right alongside of our
boat, so close, indeed, that I might have poked my finger in his
little eye, if I had chosen. The sight of that whale at liberty, and
calmly taking stock of us like that, was too much for the mate. He
lifted his lance and hurled it at the visitor, in whose broad flank it
sank, like a knife into butter, right up to the pole-hitches. The
recipient disappeared like a flash, but before one had time to think,
there was an awful crash beneath us, and the mate shot up into the air
like a bomb from a mortar. He came down in a sitting posture on the
mast-thwart; but as he fell, the whole framework of the boat collapsed
like a derelict umbrella. Louis quietly chopped the line and severed
our connection with the other whale, while in accordance with our
instructions we drew each man his oar across the boat and lashed it
firmly down with a piece of line spliced to each thwart for the
purpose. This simple operation took but a minute, but before it was
completed we were all up to our necks in the sea. Still in the boat,
it is true, and therefore not in such danger of drowning as if we were
quite adrift; but, considering that the boat was reduced to a mere
bundle of loose planks, I, at any rate, was none too comfortable. Now,
had he known it, was the whale’s golden opportunity; but he, poor
wretch, had had quite enough of our company, and cleared off without
any delay, wondering, no doubt, what fortunate accident had rid him of
our very unpleasant attentions.
[Illustration: “He Lifted His Lance and Hurled It at the Visitor”]
I was assured that we were all as safe as if we were on board the
ship, to which I answered nothing; but, like Jack’s parrot, I did some
powerful thinking. Every little wave that came along swept clean over
our heads, sometimes coming so suddenly as to cut a breath in half. If
the wind should increase—but no—I wouldn’t face the possibility of
such a disagreeable thing. I was cool enough now in a double sense,
for although we were in the tropics, we soon got thoroughly chilled.
By the position of the sun it must have been between ten a.m. and
noon, and we, of the crew, had eaten nothing since the previous day at
supper, when, as usual, the meal was very light. Therefore, I suppose
we felt the chill sooner than the better-nourished mate and harpooner,
who looked rather scornfully at our blue faces and chattering teeth.
In spite of all assurances to the contrary, I have not the least doubt
in my own mind that a very little longer would have relieved us of
_all_ our burdens finally, because the heave of the sea had so
loosened the shattered planks upon which we stood that they were on
the verge of falling all asunder. Had they done so we must have
drowned, for we were cramped and stiff with cold and our constrained
position. However, unknown to us, a bright look-out upon our movements
had been kept from the crow’s-nest the whole time. We should have been
relieved long before, but that the whale killed by the second mate was
being secured, and another boat, the fourth mate’s, being picked up,
having a hole in her bilge you could put your head through. With all
these hindrances, especially securing the whale, we were fortunate to
be rescued as soon as we were, since it is well known that whales are
of much higher commercial value than men.
However, help came at last, and we were hauled alongside. Long
exposure had weakened us to such an extent that it was necessary to
hoist us on board, especially the mate, whose “sudden stop,” when he
returned to us after his little aërial excursion, had shaken his
sturdy frame considerably, a state of body which the subsequent
soaking had by no means improved. In my innocence I imagined that we
should be commiserated for our misfortunes by Captain Slocum, and
certainly be relieved from further duties until we were a little
recovered from the rough treatment we had just undergone. But I never
made a greater mistake. The skipper cursed us all (except the mate,
whose sole fault the accident undoubtedly was) with a fluency and
vigor that was, to put it mildly, discouraging. Moreover, we were
informed that he “wouldn’t have no [adjective] skulking;” we must
“turn to” and do something after wasting the ship’s time and property
in such a blank manner. There was a limit, however, to our obedience,
so although we could not move at all for awhile, his threats were not
proceeded with farther than theory.
A couple of slings were passed around the boat, by means of which, she
was carefully hoisted on board, a mere dilapidated bundle of sticks
and raffle of gear. She was at once removed aft out of the way, the
business of cutting in the whale claiming precedence over everything
else just then. The preliminary proceedings consisted of rigging the
“cutting stage.” This was composed of two stout planks a foot wide and
ten feet long, the inner ends of which were suspended by strong ropes
over the ship’s side about four feet from the water, while the outer
extremities were upheld by tackles from the main rigging, and a small
crane abreast the try-works.
These planks were about thirty feet apart, their two outer ends being
connected by a massive plank, which was securely bolted to them. A
handrail about as high as a man’s waist, supported by light iron
stanchions, ran the full length of this plank on the side nearest the
ship, the whole fabric forming an admirable standing-place from whence
the officers might, standing in comparative comfort, cut and carve at
the great mass below to their hearts’ content.
So far the prize had been simply held alongside by the whale-line,
which at death had been “rove” through a hole cut in the solid gristle
of the tail; but now it became necessary to secure the carcass to the
ship in some more permanent fashion. Therefore, a massive chain like a
small ship’s cable was brought forward, and in a very ingenious way,
by means of a tiny buoy and a hand-lead, passed round the body, one
end brought through a ring in the other, and hauled upon until it
fitted tight round the “small” or part of the whale next the broad
spread of the tail. The free end of the fluke-chain was then passed in
through a mooring-pipe forward, firmly secured to a massive bitt at
the heel of the bowsprit (the fluke-chain-bitt), and all was ready.
If ... too much stress has been laid upon the smashing of our own boat
and consequent sufferings, while little or no notice was taken of the
kindred disaster to Mistah Jones’ vessel, my excuse must be that the
experience “filled me right up to the chin,” as the mate concisely, if
inelegantly, put it. Poor Goliath was indeed to be pitied, for his
well-known luck and capacity as a whaleman seemed on this occasion to
have quite deserted him. Not only had his boat been stove upon first
getting on to the whale, but he hadn’t even had a run for his money.
It appeared that upon striking his whale, a small, lively cow, she had
at once “settled,” allowing the boat to run over her; but just as they
were passing, she rose, gently enough, her pointed hump piercing the
thin skin of half-inch cedar as if it had been cardboard. She settled
again immediately, leaving a hole behind her a foot long by six inches
wide, which effectually put a stop to all further fishing operations
on the part of Goliath and his merry men for that day, at any rate. It
was all _so_ quiet, and _so_ tame and _so_ stupid, no wonder Mistah
Jones felt savage. When Captain Slocum’s fluent profanity flickered
around him, including vehemently all he might be supposed to have any
respect for, he did not even _look_ as if he would like to talk back;
he only looked sick and tired of being himself.
The third mate, again, was of a different category altogether. He had
distinguished himself by missing every opportunity of getting near a
whale while there was a “loose” one about, and then “saving” the crew
of Goliath’s boat, who were really in no danger whatever. His iniquity
was too great to be dealt with by mere bad language. He crept about
like a homeless dog—much, I am afraid, to my secret glee, for I
couldn’t help remembering his untiring cruelty to the green hands on
first leaving port.
In consequence of these little drawbacks we were not a very jovial
crowd forward or aft. Not that hilarity was ever particularly
noticeable among us, but just now there was a very decided sense of
wrong-doing over us all, and a general fear that each of us was about
to pay the penalty due to some other delinquent. But fortunately there
was work to be done. Oh, blessed work! how many awkward situations you
have extricated people from! How many distracted brains have you
soothed and restored, by your steady, irresistible pressure of duty to
be done and brooking of no delay!
The first thing to be done was to cut the whale’s head off. This
operation, involving the greatest amount of labor in the whole of the
cutting-in, was taken in hand by the first and second mates, who,
armed with twelve-foot spades, took their station upon the stage,
leaned over the handrail to steady themselves, and plunged their
weapons vigorously down through the massive neck of the animal,—if
neck it could be said to have,—following a well-defined crease in the
blubber. At the same time the other officers passed a heavy chain
sling around the long, narrow lower jaw, hooking one of the big
cutting tackle into it, the “fall” of which was then taken to the
windlass and hove tight, turning the whale on her back. A deep cut was
then made on both sides of the rising jaw, the windlass was kept
going, and gradually the whole of the throat was raised high enough
for a hole to be cut through its mass, into which the strap of the
second cutting tackle was inserted, and secured by passing a huge
toggle of oak through its eye. The second tackle was then hove taut,
and the jaw, with a large piece of blubber attached, was cut off from
the body with a boarding-knife, a tool not unlike a cutlass blade set
into a three-foot-long wooden handle.
Upon being severed the whole piece swung easily inboard and was
lowered on deck. The fast tackle was now hove upon while the third
mate on the stage cut down diagonally into the blubber on the body,
which the purchase ripped off in a broad strip or “blanket” about five
feet wide and a foot thick. Meanwhile the other two officers carved
away vigorously at the head, varying their labors by cutting a hole
right through the snout. This when completed received a heavy chain
for the purpose of securing the head. When the blubber had been about
half stripped off the body, a halt was called in order that the work
of cutting off the head might be finished, for it was a task of
incredible difficulty. It was accomplished at last, and the mass
floated astern by a stout rope, after which the windlass pawls
clattered merrily, the “blankets” rose in quick succession, and were
cut off and lowered into the square of the main hatch or
“blubber-room.” A short time sufficed to strip off the whole of the
body-blubber, and when at last the tail was reached, the backbone was
cut through, the huge mass of flesh floating away to feed the
innumerable scavengers of the sea. No sooner was the last of the
blubber lowered into the hold than the hatches were put on and the
head hauled up alongside. Both tackles were secured to it and all
hands took to the windlass levers. This was a small cow whale of about
thirty barrels, that is, yielding that amount of oil, so it was just
possible to lift the entire head on board; but as it weighed as much
as three full-grown elephants, it was indeed a heavy lift for even our
united forces, trying our tackle to the utmost. The weather was very
fine, and the ship rolled but little; even then, the strain upon the
mast was terrific, and right glad was I when at last the immense cube
of fat, flesh, and bone was eased inboard and gently lowered on deck.
As soon as it was secured the work of dividing it began. From the
snout a triangular mass was cut, which was more than half pure
spermaceti. This substance was contained in spongy cells held together
by layers of dense white fibre, exceedingly tough and elastic, and
called by the whalers “white-horse.” The whole mass, or “junk” as it
is called, was hauled away to the ship’s side and firmly lashed to the
bulwarks for the time being, so that it might not “take charge” of the
deck during the rest of the operations.
The upper part of the head was now slit open lengthwise, disclosing an
oblong cistern or “case” full of liquid spermaceti, clear as water.
This was bailed out with buckets into a tank, concreting as it cooled
into a wax-like substance, bland and tasteless. There being now
nothing more remaining about the skull of any value, the lashings were
loosed, and the first leeward roll sent the great mass plunging
overboard with a mighty splash. It sank like a stone, eagerly followed
by a few small sharks that were hovering near.
As may be imagined, much oil was running about the deck, for so
saturated was every part of the creature with it that it really gushed
like water during the cutting-up process. None of it was allowed to
run to waste, though, for the scupper-holes which drain the deck were
all carefully plugged, and as soon as the “junk” had been dissected
all the oil was carefully “squeegeed” up and poured into the try-pots.
Two men were now told off as “blubber-room men,” whose duty it became
to go below, and squeezing themselves in as best they could between
the greasy masses of fat, cut it up into “horse-pieces” about eighteen
inches long and six inches broad. Doing this they became perfectly
saturated with oil, as if they had taken a bath in a tank of it; for
as the vessel rolled it was impossible to maintain a footing, and
every fall was upon blubber running with oil. A machine of wonderful
construction had been erected on deck in a kind of shallow trough
about six feet long by four feet wide and a foot deep. At some remote
period of time it had no doubt been looked upon as a triumph of
ingenuity, a patent mincing machine. Its action was somewhat like that
of a chaff-cutter, except that the knife was not attached to the
wheel, and only rose and fell, since it was not required to cut right
through the “horse-pieces” with which it was fed. It will be readily
understood that in order to get the oil quickly out of the blubber it
needs to be sliced as thin as possible, but for convenience in
handling the refuse (which is the only fuel used) it is not chopped up
in small pieces, but every “horse-piece” is very deeply scored, as it
were, leaving a thin strip to hold the slices together. This, then,
was the order of work. Two harpooners attended the try-pots,
replenishing them with minced blubber from the hopper at the port
side, and bailing out the sufficiently boiled oil into the great
cooling tank on the starboard. One officer superintended the mincing,
another exercised a general supervision over all. There was no man at
the wheel and no look-out, for the vessel was “hove-to” under two
close-reefed topsails and foretopmast-staysail, with the wheel lashed
hard down. A look-out man was unnecessary, since we could not run
anybody down, and if anybody ran us down, it would only be because all
hands were asleep, for the glare of our try-works fire, to say nothing
of the blazing cresset before mentioned, could have been seen for many
miles. So we toiled watch and watch, six hours on and six off, the
work never ceasing for an instant night or day. Though the work was
hard and dirty, and the discomfort of being so continually wet through
with oil great, there was only one thing dangerous about the whole
business. That was the job of filling and shifting the huge casks of
oil. Some of these were of enormous size, containing three hundred and
fifty gallons when full, and the work of moving them about the greasy
deck of a rolling ship was attended with a terrible amount of risk.
For only four men at most could get fair hold of a cask, and when she
took it into her silly old hull to start rolling, just as we had got
one half-way across the deck, with nothing to grip your feet, and the
knowledge that one stumbling man would mean a sudden slide of the ton
and a half weight, and a little heap of mangled corpses somewhere in
the lee scuppers,—well, one always wanted to be very thankful when the
lashings were safely passed.
The whale being a small one, as before noted, the whole business was
over within three days, and the decks scrubbed and re-scrubbed until
they had quite regained their normal whiteness. The oil was poured by
means of a funnel and long canvas hose into the casks stowed in the
ground tier at the bottom of the ship, and the gear, all carefully
cleaned and neatly “stopped up,” stowed snugly away below again.
This long and elaborate process is quite different from that followed
on board the Arctic whale ships, whose voyages are of short duration,
and who content themselves with merely cutting the blubber up small
and bringing it home to have the oil expressed. But the awful putrid
mass discharged from a Greenlander’s hold is of a very different
quality and value, apart from the nature of the substance, from the
clear and sweet oil which after three years in cask is landed from a
south-seaman as inoffensive in smell and flavor as the day it was
shipped. No attempt is made to separate the oil and spermaceti beyond
boiling the “head matter,” as it is called, by itself first, and
putting it into casks which are not filled up with the body oil.
Spermaceti exists in all the oil, especially that from the dorsal
hump; but it is left for the refiners ashore to extract and leave the
oil quite free from any admixture of the wax-like substance, which
causes it to become solid at temperatures considerably above the
freezing-point.
Uninteresting as the preceding description may be, it is impossible to
understand anything of the economy of a south-sea whaler without
giving it, and I have felt it the more necessary because of the scanty
notice given to it in the only two works published on the subject,
both of them highly technical, and written for scientific purposes by
medical men. Therefore I hope to be forgiven if I have tried the
patience of my readers by any prolixity.
It will not, of course, have escaped the reader’s notice that I have
not hitherto attempted to give any details concerning the structure of
the whale just dealt with. The omission is intentional. During this,
our first attempt at real whaling, my mind was far too disturbed by
the novelty and danger of the position in which I found myself for the
first time, for me to pay any intelligent attention to the party of
the second part.
But I may safely promise that from the workman’s point of view, the
habits, manners, and build of the whales shall be faithfully described
as I saw them during my long acquaintance with them, earnestly hoping
that if my story be not as technical or scientific as that of Drs.
Bennett and Beale, it may be found fully as accurate and reliable; and
perhaps the reader, being like myself a mere layman, so to speak, may
be better able to appreciate description free from scientific formula
and nine-jointed words.
Two things I did notice on this occasion which I will briefly allude
to before closing this chapter. One was the peculiar skin of the
whale. It was a bluish-black, and as thin as gold-beater’s skin; so
thin, indeed, and tender, that it was easily scraped off with the
fingernail. Immediately beneath it, upon the surface of the blubber,
was a layer or coating of what for want of a better simile I must call
fine, short fur, although unlike fur it had no roots or apparently any
hold upon the blubber. Neither was it attached to the skin which
covered it; in fact, it seemed merely a sort of packing between the
skin and the surface of the thick layer of solid fat which covered the
whole area of the whale’s body. The other matter which impressed me
was the peculiarity of the teeth. For up till that time I had held, in
common with most seamen, and landsmen, too, for that matter, the
prevailing idea that a “whale” lived by “suction” (although I did not
at all know what that meant), and that it was impossible for him to
swallow a herring. Yet here was a mouth manifestly intended for
greater things in the way of gastronomy than herrings; nor did it
require more than the most casual glances to satisfy one of so obvious
a fact. Then the teeth were heroic in size, protruding some four or
five inches from the gum, and solidly set more than that into its firm
and compact substance. They were certainly not intended for
mastication, being, where thickest, three inches apart, and tapering
to a short point, curving slightly backwards. In this specimen, a
female, and therefore small, as I have said, there were twenty of them
on each side, the last three or four near the gullet being barely
visible above the gum.
Another most convincing reason why no mastication could have been
possible was that there were no teeth visible in the upper jaw.
Opposed to each of the teeth was a socket where a tooth should
apparently have been, and this was conclusive evidence of the soft and
yielding nature of the great creature’s food. But there were signs
that at some period of the development of the whale it had possessed a
double row of teeth, because at the bottom of these upper sockets we
found in a few cases what seemed to be an abortive tooth, not one that
was growing, because they had no roots, but a survival of teeth that
had once been perfect and useful, but from disuse, or lack of
necessity for them, had gradually ceased to come to maturity. The
interior of the mouth and throat was of a livid white, and the tongue
was quite small for so large an animal. It was almost incapable of
movement, being somewhat like a fowl’s. Certainly it could not have
been protruded even from the angle of the mouth, much less have
extended along the parapet of that lower mandible, which reminded one
of the beak of some mighty albatross or stork.
GOING TO SEA A HUNDRED YEARS AGO
(From A Narrative of Voyages)
By R. J. CLEVELAND.
In the ordinary course of a commercial education, in New England, boys
are transferred from school to the merchant’s desk at the age of
fourteen or fifteen. When I had reached my fourteenth year it was my
good fortune to be received into the counting-house of Elias Hasket
Derby, Esq., of Salem; a merchant, who may justly be termed the father
of the American commerce to India; one whose enterprise and commercial
sagacity were unequalled in his day, and, perhaps, have not been
surpassed by any of his successors. To him our country is indebted for
opening the valuable trade to Calcutta; before whose fortress his was
the first vessel to display the American flag; and, following up the
business, he had reaped golden harvests before other merchants came in
for a share of them. The first American ships, seen at the Cape of
Good Hope and at the Isle of France, belonged to him. His were the
first American ships which carried cargoes of cotton from Bombay to
China; and among the first ships which made a direct voyage to China
and back, was one owned by him. He continued to prosecute a successful
business, on an extensive scale, in those countries, until the day of
his death. In the transaction of his affairs abroad, he was liberal,
greatly beyond the practice in modern times, always desirous that
every one, even the foremost hand, should share the good fortune to
which he pointed the way; and the long list of masters of ships, who
have acquired ample fortunes in his employment, is a proof, both of
his discernment in selecting and of his generosity in paying them.
Without possessing a scientific knowledge of the construction and the
sparring of ships, Mr. Derby seemed to have an intuitive faculty in
judging of models and proportions; and his experiments, in several
instances, for the attainment of swiftness of sailing, were crowned
with a success unsurpassed in our own or any other country. He built
several ships for the India trade, immediately in the vicinity of the
counting-house; which afforded me an opportunity of becoming
acquainted with the building, sparring, and rigging of ships. The
conversations, to which I listened, relating to the countries then
newly visited by Americans, the excitement on the return of an
adventure from them, and the great profits which were made, always
manifest from the result of my own little adventures, tended to
stimulate the desire in me of visiting those countries, and of sharing
more largely in the advantages they presented. Consequently, after
having passed four years in this course of instruction, I became
impatient to begin that nautical career on which I had determined, as
presenting the most sure and direct means of arriving at independence;
and in the summer of 1792 I embarked on my first voyage. It was one of
only three months’ duration; but it was sufficient to produce a most
thorough disgust of the pursuit, from the severe suffering of
sea-sickness; so that, if I had perceived, on my return, any prospect
on shore equally promising, I should have abandoned the sea. None,
however, presenting itself, I persevered, and finally overcame the
difficulty.
Having in this, and other voyages to the East and West Indies and to
Europe, acquired the experience and nautical skill deemed sufficient
to qualify me for taking the command of a ship, I was invited, in the
autumn of 1795, by the eldest son of Mr. Derby, to take charge of his
bark Enterprise, and proceed on a voyage to the Isle of Bourbon. The
confidence, thus evinced, in intrusting the management of a valuable
vessel and cargo to so young and inexperienced a man, for I had then
only attained my majority, was very gratifying to my ambition, and was
duly appreciated.
In those almost primitive days of our commerce, a coppered vessel was
scarcely known in the United States; and on the long East India
voyages, the barnacles and grass, which accumulated on the wooden
sheathing, retarded the ship’s sailing so much, that a third more
time, at least, was required for the passages, than is needed since
the practice of sheathing with copper has been adopted. A year,
therefore, was generally consumed in a voyage to the Isle of France or
Bourbon; and mine was accomplished within that term. The success
attending it was very satisfactory to my employer, of which he gave
evidence in despatching me again, in the same vessel, on a voyage to
Europe, and thence to Mocha, for a cargo of coffee.
While at Havre de Grâce, in the summer of 1797, engaged in making
preparations for pursuing the voyage, I had the mortification to
learn, by letters from my employer, that some derangement had occurred
in his affairs, which made it necessary to abandon the Mocha
enterprise, and to place in his hands, with the least possible delay,
the funds destined for that object. Among the numerous commercial
adventures, in which our merchants, at that time, had been engaged to
the eastward of the Cape of Good Hope, no voyage had been undertaken
to Mocha. To be the first, therefore, in an untried adventure was
highly gratifying to my ambition; and my disappointment was
proportionately great when compelled to relinquish it. To have
detained the vessel in France, while waiting the slow progress of the
sale of the cargo, would have been injudicious; and she was therefore
despatched for home, under charge of the mate, William Webb, of Salem.
Being thus relieved from the necessity of an immediate return to the
United States, I flattered myself, that, even with the very contracted
means which I possessed, I might still engage, with a little
assistance, and on a very humble scale, in some enterprise to the Isle
of France and India. When, therefore, I had accomplished the business
with which I had been charged, by remitting to the owner in Salem his
property with me, I began earnestly to put to the test the
practicability of the object of which I was so desirous. A coincidence
of favorable and very encouraging circumstances aided my views. A
friend of mine had become proprietor of a little cutter of
thirty-eight tons burden, which had been a packet between Dover and
Calais. This vessel had been taken for a debt; and the owner, not
knowing what to do with her, offered her to me for a reasonable price,
and to pay when I had the ability. This credit would enable me to put
all my capital in the cargo, excepting what was required for coppering
and fitting the cutter for the contemplated voyage, about five hundred
dollars; leaving me fifteen hundred to be invested in the cargo. On
making known to others of my friends the plan of my voyage, two of
them engaged to embark to the amount of a thousand dollars each, on
condition of sharing equally the profits at the end of the voyage.
Having become proprietor of the cutter, which, with all additional
expenses, cost, ready for sea, about one thousand dollars, an
investment of articles best suited to the market of the Isle of
France, was purchased to the amount of three thousand five hundred
dollars; making vessel and cargo amount to four thousand five hundred.
It is not probable that the annals of commerce can furnish another
example of an Indiaman and cargo being fitted and expedited on so
humble a scale.
I had now the high gratification of uncontrolled action. An innate
love of independence, an impatience of restraint, an aversion to
responsibility, and a desire to have no other limits to my wanderings
than the globe itself, reconciled me to the endurance of fatigues and
privations, which I knew to be the unavoidable consequence of
navigating in so frail a bark, rather than to possess the comparative
ease and comfort, coupled with the restraint and responsibility, which
the command of a fine ship belonging to another would present.
As there are, doubtless, many persons, not excepting those, even, who
are familiar with commercial and maritime affairs, who will view this
enterprise as very hazardous from sea risk, and as offering but a very
small prospect of emolument, it is proper, so far as I am able, to do
away with such impressions by briefly stating the object I had in
view. On my late voyage to the Isle of Bourbon, I had perceived a
great deficiency in the number of vessels requisite for the
advantageous conveyance of passengers and freight to and from the
Isles of France and Bourbon. If my cutter had been built expressly for
the purpose, she could not have been more suitable. With a large and
beautifully finished cabin, where passengers would be more comfortably
accommodated than in many vessels of greater dimensions; with but
small freighting room, and requiring, therefore, but little time to
load, and of greater speed in sailing than the generality of merchant
vessels, I had no doubt of being able to sell her there for more than
double the cost; or I might find it to be more advantageous to employ
her in freighting between the islands. In either event, I felt entire
confidence in being amply remunerated for the time and risk. On the
cargo, composed of such articles as my late experience had proved to
be most in demand, I had no doubt of making a profit of from fifty to
one hundred per cent on its cost. The proceeds of vessel and cargo,
invested in the produce of the island, and shipped to Europe or the
United States, would, at that time, have yielded a clear gain of
thirty-three and one-third per cent. Thus, in the course of one year,
I should make two hundred per cent on the original capital; a result
which might be considered abundant compensation for the time it would
consume, and should take from the enterprise the character of
quixotism, with which it had been stigmatized.
As soon as it became known at Havre, that my destination was the Isle
of France, some of my friends, anxious for my safety, and perceiving
in the enterprise only the ardor and temerity of inexperienced youth,
endeavored to dissuade me from it, by painting to me, in glowing
colors, the distress and probable destruction I was preparing for
myself and men. But, however friendly and considerate the advice, I
felt myself more competent to judge of the risk than they were, and,
consequently, disregarded them.
The vessel, being all ready for sea on the 20th of September, 1797,
was detained several days by the difficulty of procuring men. Those
who were engaged one day would desert the next; and the dangerous
character of the enterprise having been discussed and admitted among
the seamen in port, I began to be seriously apprehensive, that I might
not succeed in procuring a crew. At length, however, with much
difficulty, and some additional pay, I succeeded in procuring four
men; and, having previously engaged a mate, our number was complete.
To delay proceeding to sea a moment longer than was necessary, would
have been incurring a risk of the loss of my men, and the pay I had
advanced them. Hence, I was induced to sail when appearances were very
inauspicious. A strong north wind was blowing into the bay with such
violence as already to have raised a considerable sea; but I flattered
myself, that, as the sun declined, it would abate; that, if we could
weather Cape Barfleur, we should make a free wind down channel; and
that, if this should be found impracticable, we could, at all events,
return to Havre Roads, and wait there a more favorable opportunity.
With such impressions, we sailed from Havre on the 25th of September.
A great crowd had assembled on the pier head to witness our departure,
and cheered us as we passed. It was about noon, and we were under full
sail; but we had scarcely been out two hours, when we were obliged to
reduce it to a double-reefed mainsail, foresail, and second-sized jib.
With the sail even thus diminished, the vessel, at times, almost
buried herself; still, as every part of the equipment was new and
strong, I flattered myself with being able to weather the Cape, and
pressed forward through a sea in which we were continually enveloped,
cheered with the hope that we had nothing worse to experience, and
that we should soon be relieved by the ability to bear away and make a
free wind. I was destined, however, to a sad disappointment; for the
wind and sea having increased towards midnight, an extraordinary
plunge into a very short and sharp sea completely buried the vessel,
and, with a heavy crash, snapped off the bowsprit by the board. The
vessel then luffed into the wind, in defiance of the helm, and the
first shake of the foresail stripped it from the bolt rope.
No other alternative now presented, than to endeavor to regain the
port of Havre; a task, under existing circumstances, of very difficult
and doubtful accomplishment. The sea had increased in so great a
degree, and ran so sharp, that we were in continual apprehension of
having our decks swept. This circumstance, combined with the
sea-sickness, which none escaped, retarded and embarrassed the
operation of wearing round on the other tack. The violent motion of
the vessel had also prevented the possibility of obtaining sleep;
indeed, no person had been permitted to go below before the disaster;
and none had the disposition to do so afterwards; but all were alert
in the performance of their duty, which had for its immediate object
the getting of the vessel’s head pointed towards Havre.
This was at length effected; but, as we had no spar suitable for a
jury bowsprit, we could carry only such part of our mainsail as was
balanced by a jib, set in the place of a foresail. With this sail, we
made so much lee way, that it was evident, as soon as daylight enabled
me to form a judgment, that we could not reach Havre; nor was it less
evident, that nothing but an abatement of the gale could save us from
being stranded before night. With the hope of this abatement, the
heavens were watched with an intensity of interest more easily
imagined than described; but no favorable sign appeared; and before
noon we had evidence of being to leeward of the port of Havre. We now
cleared away the cables and anchors, and secured with battens the
communications with the cabin and forecastle. While thus engaged, the
man at the mast head announced the appalling, but expected
intelligence, of “breakers under the lee.”
This information had the effect of an electric shock to rouse the crew
from that apathy which was a natural consequence of twenty-four hours’
exposure to great fatigue, incessant wet and cold, and want of sleep
and food; for we had not been able to cook anything. The rapidity with
which we were driven to leeward, soon made the breakers discernible
from deck; and they were of such extent, as to leave us no choice,
whether we headed east or west; for the forlorn hope of being held by
our anchors was all that remained to us. No one on board possessed any
knowledge of the shore we were approaching; but our chart denoted it
as rocky. It was easy to perceive, that to be thrown among rocks, by
such a sea, must be the destruction of us all. Hence it was of the
utmost importance to discover, and to anchor off, the part of the
shore which appeared to be most free from rocks; and with this view
the mate was looking out from the mast head. As he perceived an
apparently clear beach east of us, and within our ability of reaching,
we steered for it; and when the water was only six fathoms deep, we
lowered our sails and came to anchor. But as our anchor dragged, a
second was let go, which, for a moment only, brought the vessel head
to the sea, when one cable parted; and as we were drifting rapidly
with the other, we cut it, then hoisted the jib, and steered directly
for the clear space in the beach. Going in with great velocity, on the
top of a high breaker, we were soon enveloped in its foam, and in that
of several others which succeeded. The vessel, however,
notwithstanding she struck the ground with a violence which appeared
sufficient to dash her in pieces, still held together, in defiance of
this and several minor shocks; and, as the tide was falling, she soon
became so still, and the water so shoal, as to enable us to go on
shore.
As the alarm gun had been fired, the peasantry had come down in great
numbers; and when they perceived us leaving the vessel, they ran into
the surf, and, with such demonstrations of humanity and kindness as
our forlorn situation was calculated to excite, supported us to the
shore, which we had no sooner reached, than they complimented us on
the judicious selection we had made of a place to come on shore. And
it was now obvious to us, that if we had struck half a mile, either on
one side or the other from this spot, there would have been scarce a
possibility of saving our lives.
We were fortunate, not only in the selection of the spot, but also in
the circumstance of its being nearly high water when the vessel
struck. The concurrence of two such circumstances turned the scale in
my favor; and immediately after landing I was convinced, that the
vessel and cargo, though much damaged, would both be saved. When the
tide had so fallen as to leave the vessel dry, the inhabitants showed
no disposition to take advantage of our distress, by stipulating for a
certain proportion of what they might save, before going to work; but,
prompted by their humane feelings, set about discharging the vessel,
in such numbers and with such earnestness, that before sunset she was
completely unloaded, and the cargo carried above high water mark.
The gale, towards evening, had very much abated, and, before the next
high water, was fortunately succeeded by a calm and a great decrease
of sea. In the mean time, the leaks, made in the bottom, were stopped,
as well as time and circumstances would permit; an anchor was carried
as far as the retreat of the tide would admit, and the cable hove
taut. Having made these dispositions, I engaged a pilot and a
sufficient number of men, to attend, at full tide, to heave the vessel
off, and to endeavor to remove her into the river Orme, which was near
by. These arrangements being made, I went with my men to an inn, in
the neighboring town of Oistreham, to get some refreshment, and to
pass the night; compelled by exhaustion to place entire dependence on
those who were strangers to us, for getting the vessel afloat, as well
as to secure the cargo from being plundered.
Though worn out by fatigue and anxiety, my distress of mind was so
great, that I could not sleep. The thoughts, that I had contracted a
debt which I might never be able to pay, that no insurance had been
effected, that, without credit, I might be compelled to sacrifice what
had been saved to defray the expenses incurred, and that my fortune
and prospects were ruined, were so incessantly haunting my
imagination, that the night rather added to, than diminished my
feelings of exhaustion.
The following morning, I found the vessel lying safely in the river
Orme; and men were also there, ready to make those temporary repairs
which were indispensable to enable us to return to Havre. In the
forenoon it was required of me to go to Caen (two or three miles
distant) for the purpose of making the customary report to the
municipal authorities, which was a business of very little intricacy,
and of very speedy accomplishment. An examination of the vessel and
cargo satisfied me, that the former could be repaired at very trifling
expense, and that the latter was not damaged to much amount. The
alacrity to render us assistance, in the people of this place, from
the beginning of our disaster, was extended to the period, when, the
cargo having been transported to the vessel and re-shipped, we were
prepared to return to Havre.
As in cases of vessels stranding, it seems to be a practice,
sanctioned by long established usage (particularly on the other side
of the channel), to consider the unfortunate as those abandoned by
Heaven, from whom may lawfully be taken all that the elements have
spared, I was prepared for a demand of salvage to a considerable
amount. But in this expectation I found I had done great injustice to
these good people; for, on presenting their account, it appeared they
had charged no more than for ordinary labor, and that at a very
moderate rate. It is a circumstance, also, very creditable to them,
that notwithstanding some packages of the cargo, of much value, and of
such bulk as to be easily concealed, were in their possession,
exclusively, for several days and nights, yet nothing was lost.
Although these transactions are of a date so remote, that probably
many of the actors therein have “ceased from their earthly labors,”
yet I never recall them to mind, without a feeling of compunction that
I had not ascertained the names of the principals in the business, and
made that public acknowledgment for the disinterested and important
services rendered me, which gratitude, no less than justice, demanded.
For this omission my perturbed state of mind is my only apology.
With a favorable wind for Havre, we proceeded for that port, where we
arrived in about ten days after having sailed from there. The
reception I met with at Havre, from my friend James Prince, Esq., of
Boston, who was more largely interested in the adventure than any
other individual excepting myself, was kind and friendly in the
extreme, and tended to counteract the effects of my deep
mortification, and to raise my spirits for the prosecution of the
original plan. He relieved my anxiety relative to the means of
defraying the expenses of repairs, by engaging to provide them. He
gave me a room at his house; and while I was ill there (for this I did
not escape) he facilitated my recovery by his care and kindness. With
such attentions, my health was soon reëstablished, my spirits renewed,
and I pursued the repairing and refitting the vessel with my
accustomed ardor.
On examination of the cargo, it was found to be very little damaged.
The vessel was considerably injured so near the keel, that it was
necessary to lay her on blocks, where it was discovered that the lower
plank was so much broken that several feet of it would require to be
replaced with new. This being accomplished, the other repairs made,
and the cargo again put on board, there was nothing to prevent
proceeding immediately to sea, excepting a difficulty in procuring
men, which seemed to be insurmountable. No one of my former crew,
excepting a black man (George), would try it again. We had arrived at
the close of the month of November; and each day’s delay, by the
advance of winter, increased the difficulty and danger of our
enterprise. Indeed, the westerly gales were already of frequent
occurrence; the nights had become long, and when I heard the howling
winds and beating rain, and recollected in what a frail boat I had to
contend with them, I wished that my destiny had marked out for me a
task of less difficult accomplishment.
THE PILOT
The hero of Cooper’s stirring sea-tale is a mysterious Pilot known as
Mr. Gray, who, during the American Revolution, came aboard the Yankee
frigate Alliance one stormy night to guide her in a privateering
expedition along the east coast of England. Captain Munson had been
intrusted by Congress with the dangerous errand of venturing into the
enemy’s own waters in order to capture prize ships and prisoners of
war, who were to be held for exchange. Inspired by the Pilot’s
presence, the daring Yankee bluejackets captured the British cutter
Alacrity, in a sharp contest near the shore. Following this victory,
the frigate’s officers in council determined upon an invasion of the
enemy’s country. Accordingly, one night a party of officers and
marines from the Alliance, headed by the Pilot himself, landed near
the abbey of St. Ruth, and after many exciting adventures and narrow
escapes, secured as prisoners Captain Borroughcliffe of the king’s
service, Colonel Howard, a wealthy Tory recently returned from
America, and the latter’s nieces, Cecilia Howard and Katherine
Plowden. Before leaving America the girls had become engaged to
Griffith and Barnstaple, young lieutenants on this very frigate; and
it was to separate them from their Yankee lovers that Colonel Howard
had brought his wards to England, guarding them like prisoners at St.
Ruth. Moreover, Merry, the midshipman on board the Alliance was the
girls’ favorite cousin. They therefore willingly accepted the
situation, and were not sorry to be transported to the frigate,
preparing to enjoy a sea voyage in pleasant company. But the officers
knew that reports of the Yankee cruiser must have spread abroad and
that pursuit was to be expected. The following pages describe the
narrow escape of the Alliance from a British man-of-war.
THE ESCAPE OF THE AMERICAN FRIGATE ALLIANCE
(From the Pilot.)
By J. F. COOPER.
“Furious press the hostile squadron,
Furious he repels their rage,
Loss of blood at length enfeebles;
Who can war with thousands wage?”
_Spanish War Song._
We cannot detain the narrative, to detail the scenes which busy
wonder, aided by the relation of divers marvellous feats, produced
among the curious seamen who remained in the ship, and their more
fortunate fellows who had returned glory from an expedition to the
land. For nearly an hour the turbulence of a general movement was
heard, issuing from the deep recesses of the frigate, and the
boisterous sounds of hoarse merriment were listened to by the officers
in indulgent silence; but all those symptoms of unbridled humor ceased
by the time the morning repast was ended, when the regular sea-watch
was set, and the greater portion of those whose duty did not require
their presence on the vessel’s deck, availed themselves of the
opportunity to repair the loss of sleep sustained in the preceding
night. Still no preparations were made to put the ship in motion,
though long and earnest consultations, which were supposed to relate
to their future destiny, were observed by the younger officers to be
held between their captain, the first lieutenant, and the mysterious
Pilot. The latter threw many an anxious glance along the eastern
horizon, searching it minutely with his glass, and then would turn his
impatient looks at the low, dense bank of fog, which stretching across
the ocean like a barrier of cloud, entirely intercepted the view
towards the south. To the north and along the land the air was clear,
and the sea without spot of any kind; but in the east a small white
sail had been discovered since the opening of day, which was gradually
rising above the water, and assuming the appearance of a vessel of
some size. Every officer on the quarter-deck in his turn had examined
this distant sail, and had ventured an opinion on its destination and
character; and even Katherine, who with her cousin was enjoying, in
the open air, the novel beauties of the ocean, had been tempted to
place her sparkling eye to a glass, to gaze at the stranger.
“It is a collier,” Griffith said, “who has hauled from the land in the
late gale, and who is luffing up to his course again. If the wind
holds here in the south, and he does not get into that fog-bank, we
can stand off for him and get a supply of fuel before eight bells are
struck.”
“I think his head is to the northward, and that he is steering off the
wind,” returned the Pilot, in a musing manner. “If that Dillon
succeeded in getting his express far enough along the coast, the alarm
has been spread, and we must be wary. The convoy of the Baltic trade
is in the North Sea, the news of our presence could easily have been
taken off to it by some of the cutters that line the coast. I could
wish to get the ships as far south as the Helder!”
“Then we lose this weather tide!” exclaimed the impatient Griffith.
“Surely we have the cutter as a lookout! besides, by beating into the
fog, we shall lose the enemy, if enemy it be, and is it thought meet
for an American frigate to skulk from her foes?”
The scornful expression that kindled the eye of the Pilot, like a
gleam of sunshine lighting for an instant some dark dell and laying
bare its secrets, was soon lost in the usually quiet look of his
glance, though he hesitated, like one who was struggling with his
passions, before he answered—
“If prudence and the service of the States require it, even this proud
frigate must retreat and hide from the meanest of her enemies. My
advice, Captain Munson, is that you make sail, and beat the ship to
windward, as Mr. Griffith has suggested, and that you order the cutter
to precede us, keeping more in with the land.”
The aged seaman, who evidently suspended his orders, only to receive
an intimation of the other’s pleasure, immediately commanded his
youthful assistant to issue the necessary mandates to put these
measures in force. Accordingly, the Alacrity, which vessel had been
left under the command of the junior lieutenant of the frigate, was
quickly under way; and, making short stretches to windward, she soon
entered the bank of fog, and was lost to the eye. In the meantime the
canvas of the ship was loosened, and spread leisurely, in order not to
disturb the portion of the crew who were sleeping; and, following her
little consort, she moved heavily through the water, bearing up
against the dull breeze.
The quiet of regular duty had succeeded to the bustle of making sail;
and, as the rays of the sun fell less obliquely on the distant land,
Katherine and Cecilia were amusing Griffith by vain attempts to point
out the rounded eminences which they fancied lay in the vicinity of
the deserted mansion of St. Ruth. Barnstable, who had resumed his
former station in the frigate, as her second lieutenant, was pacing
the opposite side of the quarter-deck, holding under his arm the
speaking-trumpet, which denoted that he held the temporary control of
the motions of the ship, and inwardly cursing the restraint that kept
him from the side of his mistress. At this moment of universal quiet,
when nothing above low dialogues interrupted the dashing of the waves
as they were thrown lazily aside by the bows of the vessel, the report
of a light cannon burst out of the barrier of fog, and then rolled by
them on the breeze, apparently vibrating with the rising and sinking
of the waters.
“There goes the cutter!” exclaimed Griffith, the instant the sound was
heard.
“Surely,” said the captain, “Somers is not so indiscreet as to scale
his guns, after the caution he has received!”
“No idle scaling of guns is intended there,” said the Pilot, straining
his eyes to pierce the fog, but soon turning away in disappointment at
his inability to succeed, “that gun is shotted, and has been fired in
the hurry of a sudden signal! can your lookout see nothing, Mr.
Barnstable?”
The lieutenant of the watch hailed the man aloft, and demanded if
anything were visible in the direction of the wind, and received for
answer, that the fog intercepted the view in that quarter of the
heavens, but that the sail in the east was a ship, running large, or
before the wind. The Pilot shook his head doubtingly at this
information, but still he manifested a strong reluctance to relinquish
the attempt of getting more to the southward. Again he communed with
the commander of the frigate, apart from all other ears; and while
they yet deliberated, a second report was heard, leaving no doubt that
the Alacrity was firing signal-guns for their particular attention.
“Perhaps,” said Griffith, “he wishes to point out his position, or to
ascertain ours; believing that we are lost like himself in the mist.”
“We have our compasses!” returned the doubting captain; “Somers has a
meaning in what he says!”
“See!” cried Katherine, with girlish delight, “see, my cousin! see,
Barnstable! how beautifully that vapor is wreathing itself in clouds
above the smoky line of fog! It stretches already into the very
heavens like a lofty pyramid!”
Barnstable sprang lightly on a gun, as he repeated her words—
“Pyramids of fog! and wreathing clouds! By Heaven!” he shouted, “’tis
a tall ship! Royals, sky-sails, and studding-sails all abroad! She is
within a mile of us, and comes down like a race-horse, with a spanking
breeze, dead before it! Now know we why Somers is speaking in the
mist!”
“Ay,” cried Griffith, “and there goes the Alacrity, just breaking out
of the fog, hovering in for the land!”
“There is a mighty hull under all that cloud of canvas, Captain
Munson,” said the observant but calm Pilot; “it is time, gentlemen, to
edge away, to leeward.”
“What, before we know from whom we run!” cried Griffith; “my life on
it, there is no single ship King George owns, but would tire of the
sport before she had played a full game of bowls with—”
The haughty air of the young man was daunted by the severe look he
encountered in the eye of the Pilot, and he suddenly ceased, though
inwardly chafing with impatient pride.
“The same eye that detected the canvas above the fog, might have seen
the flag of a vice-admiral fluttering still nearer the heavens,”
returned the collected stranger; “and England, faulty as she may be,
is yet too generous to place a flag-officer in time of war in command
of a frigate, or a captain in command of a fleet. She knows the value
of those who shed their blood in her behalf, and it is thus that she
is so well served! Believe me, Captain Munson, there is nothing short
of a ship of the line under that symbol of rank, and that broad show
of canvas!”
“We shall see, sir, we shall see,” returned the old officer, whose
manner grew decided, as the danger appeared to thicken; “beat to
quarters, Mr. Griffith, for we have none but enemies to expect on this
coast.”
The order was instantly issued, when Griffith remarked, with a more
temperate zeal—
“If Mr. Gray be right, we shall have reason to thank God that we are
so light of heel!”
The cry of “a strange vessel close aboard the frigate,” having already
flown down the hatches, the ship was in an uproar at the first tap of
the drum. The seamen threw themselves from their hammocks, and lashing
them rapidly into long, hard bundles, they rushed to the decks, where
they were dexterously stowed in the netting, to aid the defences of
the upper part of the vessel. While this tumultuous scene was
exhibiting, Griffith gave a secret order to Merry, who disappeared,
leading his trembling cousins to a place of safety in the inmost
depths of the ship.
The guns were cleared of their lumber, and loosened. The bulk-heads
were knocked down, and the cabin relieved of its furniture; and the
gun-deck exhibited one unbroken line of formidable cannon, arranged in
all the order of a naval battery ready to engage. Arm-chests were
thrown open, and the decks strewed with pikes, cutlasses, pistols, and
all the various weapons for boarding. In short, the yards were slung,
and every other arrangement was made with a readiness and dexterity
that were actually wonderful, though all was performed amid an
appearance of disorder and confusion that rendered the ship another
Babel during the continuance of the preparations. In a very few
minutes everything was completed, and even the voices of the men
ceased to be heard answering to their names, as they were mustered at
their stations, by their respective officers. Gradually the ship
became as quiet as the grave; and when even Griffith or his commander
found it necessary to speak, their voices were calmer, and their tones
more mild than usual. The course of the vessel was changed to an
oblique line from that in which their enemy was approaching, though
the appearance of flight was to be studiously avoided to the last
moment. When nothing further remained to be done, every eye became
fixed on the enormous pile of swelling canvas that was rising, in
cloud over cloud, far above the fog, and which was manifestly moving,
like driving vapor, swiftly to the north. Presently the dull, smoky
boundary of the mist which rested on the water was pushed aside in
vast volumes, and the long taper spars that projected from the
bowsprit of the strange ship issued from the obscurity, and were
quickly followed by the whole of the enormous fabric to which they
were merely light appendages. For a moment, streaks of reluctant vapor
clung to the huge floating pile; but they were soon shaken off by the
rapid vessel, and the whole of her black hull became distinct to the
eye.
“One, two, three rows of teeth!” said Boltrope, deliberately counting
the tiers of guns that bristled along the sides of the enemy; “a
three-decker! Jack Manly would show his stern to such a fellow! and
even the Scotchman would run!”
“Hard up with your helm, quartermaster!” cried Captain Munson; “there
is indeed no time to hesitate, with such an enemy within a quarter of
a mile! Turn the hands up, Mr. Griffith, and pack on the ship from her
trucks to her lower studding-sail booms. Be stirring, sir, be
stirring! Hard up with your helm! Hard up, sir!”
The unusual earnestness of their aged commander acted on the startled
crew like a voice from the deep, and they waited not for the usual
signals of the boatswain and drummer to be given, before they broke
away from their guns, and rushed tumultuously to aid in spreading the
desired canvas. There was one minute of ominous confusion, that to an
inexperienced eye would have foreboded the destruction of all order in
the vessel, during which every hand, and each tongue, seemed in
motion; but it ended in opening the immense folds of light duck which
were displayed along the whole line of the masts, far beyond the
ordinary sails, overshadowing the waters for a great distance, on
either side of the vessel. During the moment of inaction that
succeeded this sudden exertion, the breeze, which had brought up the
three-decker, fell fresher on the sails of the frigate, and she
started away from her dangerous enemy with a very perceptible
advantage in point of sailing.
“The fog rises!” cried Griffith; “give us but the wind for an hour,
and we shall run her out of gunshot!”
“These nineties are very fast off the wind,” returned the captain, in
a low tone, that was intended only for the ears of his first
lieutenant and the Pilot; “and we shall have a struggle for it.”
The quick eye of the stranger was glancing over the movements of his
enemy, while he answered—
“He finds we have the heels of him already! he is making ready, and we
shall be fortunate to escape a broadside! Let her yaw a little, Mr.
Griffith; touch her lightly with the helm; if we are raked, sir, we
are lost!”
The captain sprang on the taffrail of his ship with the activity of a
younger man, and in an instant he perceived the truth of the other’s
conjecture.
Both vessels now ran for a few minutes, keenly watching each other’s
motions like two skilful combatants; the English ship making slight
deviations from the line of her course, and then, as her movements
were anticipated by the other, turning as cautiously in the opposite
direction, until a sudden and wide sweep of her huge bows told the
Americans plainly on which tack to expect her. Captain Munson made a
silent but impressive gesture with his arm, as if the crisis were too
important for speech, which indicated to the watchful Griffith the way
he wished the frigate sheered, to avoid the weight of the impending
danger. Both vessels whirled swiftly up to the wind, with their heads
towards the land; and as the huge black side of the three-decker
checkered with its triple batteries, frowned full upon her foe, it
belched forth a flood of fire and smoke, accompanied by a bellowing
roar that mocked the surly moanings of the sleeping ocean. The nerves
of the bravest man in the frigate contracted their fibres, as the
hurricane of iron hurtled by them, and each eye appeared to gaze in
stupid wonder, as if tracing the flight of the swift engines of
destruction. But the voice of Captain Munson was heard in the din,
shouting while he waved his hat earnestly in the required direction—
“Meet her! meet her with the helm, boy! meet her, Mr. Griffith, meet
her!”
Griffith had so far anticipated this movement, as to have already
ordered the head of the frigate to be turned in its former course,
when, struck by the unearthly cry of the last tones uttered by his
commander, he bent his head, and beheld the venerable seaman driven
through the air, his hat still waving, his gray hair floating in the
wind, and his eye set in the wild look of death.
“Great God!” exclaimed the young man, rushing to the side of the ship,
where he was just in time to see the lifeless body disappear in the
waters that were dyed in its blood; “he has been struck by a shot!
Lower-away the boat, lower-away the jolly-boat, the barge, the tiger,
the”—
“’Tis useless,” interrupted the calm deep voice of the Pilot; “he has
met a warrior’s end, and he sleeps in a sailor’s grave! The ship is
getting before the wind again, and the enemy is keeping his vessel
away.”
The youthful lieutenant was recalled by these words to his duty, and
reluctantly turned his eyes away from the bloody spot on the waters,
which the busy frigate had already passed, to resume the command of
the vessel with a forced composure.
“He has cut some of our running gear,” said the master, whose eye had
never ceased to dwell on the spars and rigging of the ship; “and
there’s a splinter out of the maintopmast, that is big enough for a
fid! He has let daylight through some of our canvas too; but, taking
it by-and-large, the squall has gone over and little harm done. Didn’t
I hear something said of Captain Munson getting jammed by a shot?”
“He is killed!” said Griffith, speaking in a voice that was yet husky
with horror; “he is dead, sir, and carried overboard; there is more
need that we forget not ourselves, in this crisis.”
“Dead!” said Boltrope, suspending the operation of his active jaws for
a moment, in surprise; “and buried in a wet jacket! Well, it is lucky
’tis no worse; for damme if I did not think every stick in the ship
would have been cut out of her!”
With this consolatory remark on his lips, the master walked slowly
forward, continuing his orders to repair the damages with a singleness
of purpose that rendered him, however uncouth as a friend, an
invaluable man in his station.
Griffith had not yet brought his mind to the calmness that was so
essential to discharge the duties which had thus suddenly and awfully
devolved on him, when his elbow was lightly touched by the Pilot, who
had drawn closer to his side.
“The enemy appear satisfied with the experiment,” said the stranger;
“and as we work the quicker of the two, he loses too much ground to
repeat it, if he be a true seaman.”
“And yet as he finds we leave him so fast,” returned Griffith, “he
must see that all his hopes rest in cutting us up aloft. I dread that
he will come by the wind again, and lay us under his broadside; we
should need a quarter of an hour to run without his range, if he were
anchored!”
“He plays a surer game; see you not that the vessel we made in the
eastern board shows the hull of a frigate? ’Tis past a doubt that they
are of one squadron, and that the expresses have sent them in our
wake. The English admiral has spread a broad clew, Mr. Griffith; and,
as he gathers in his ships, he sees that his game has been
successful.”
The faculties of Griffith had been too much occupied with the hurry of
the chase to look at the ocean; but, startled at the information of
the Pilot, who spoke coolly, though like a man sensible of the
existence of approaching danger, he took the glass from the other, and
with his own eye examined the different vessels in sight. It is
certain that the experienced officer, whose flag was flying above the
light sails of the three-decker, saw the critical situation of his
chase, and reasoned much in the same manner as the Pilot, or the
fearful expedient apprehended by Griffith would have been adopted.
Prudence, however, dictated that he should prevent his enemy from
escaping by pressing so closely on his rear, as to render it
impossible for the American to haul across his bows and run into the
open sea between his own vessel and the nearest frigate of his
squadron. The unpractised reader will be able to comprehend the case
better by accompanying the understanding eye of Griffith, as it
glanced from point to point, following the whole horizon. To the west
lay the land, along which the Alacrity was urging her way
industriously, with the double purpose of keeping her consort abeam,
and of avoiding a dangerous proximity to their powerful enemy. To the
east, bearing off the starboard bow of the American frigate, was the
vessel first seen, and which now began to exhibit the hostile
appearance of a ship of war, steering in a line converging towards
themselves, and rapidly drawing nigher; while far in the northeast was
a vessel as yet faintly discerned, whose evolutions could not be
mistaken by one who understood the movements of nautical warfare.
“We are hemmed in effectually,” said Griffith, dropping the glass from
his eye; “and I know not but our wisest course would be to haul in to
the land, and, cutting everything light adrift, endeavor to pass the
broadside of the flagship.”
“Provided she left a rag of canvas to do it with!” returned the Pilot.
“Sir, ’tis an idle hope! She would strip your ship in ten minutes, to
her plank shears. Had it not been for a lucky wave on which so many of
her shot struck and glanced upward, we should have nothing to boast of
left from the fire she has already given; we must stand on, and drop
the three-decker as far as possible.”
“But the frigates?” said Griffith, “what are we to do with the
frigates?”
“Fight them!” returned the Pilot, in a low, determined voice; “fight
them! Young man, I have borne the stars and stripes aloft in greater
straits than this, and even with honor! Think not that my fortune will
desert me now.”
“We shall have an hour of desperate battle!”
“On that we may calculate; but I have lived through whole days of
bloodshed! You seem not one to quail at the sight of an enemy.”
“Let me proclaim your name to the men!” said Griffith; “’twill quicken
their blood, and at such a moment be a host in itself.”
“They want it not,” returned the Pilot, checking the hasty zeal of the
other with his hand. “I would be unnoticed, unless I am known as
becomes me. I will share your danger, but would not rob you of a
tittle of your glory. Should we come to a grapple,” he continued,
while a smile of conscious pride gleamed across his face, “I will give
forth the word as a war-cry, and, believe me, these English will quail
before it!”
Griffith submitted to the stranger’s will; and, after they had
deliberated further on the nature of their evolutions, he gave his
attention again to the management of the vessel. The first object
which met his eye on turning from the Pilot was Colonel Howard, pacing
the quarter-deck with a determined brow and a haughty mien, as if
already in the enjoyment of that triumph which now seemed certain.
“I fear, sir,” said the young man, approaching him with respect, “that
you will soon find the deck unpleasant and dangerous: your wards are”—
“Mention not the unworthy term!” interrupted the colonel. “What
greater pleasure can there be than to inhale the odor of loyalty that
is wafted from yonder floating tower of the king? And danger! you know
but little of old George Howard, young man, if you think he would for
thousands miss seeing that symbol of rebellion levelled before the
flag of his majesty.”
“If that be your wish, Colonel Howard,” returned Griffith, biting his
lip, as he looked around at the wondering seamen who were listeners,
“you will wait in vain; but I pledge you my word, that when that time
arrives, you shall be advised, and that your own hand shall do the
ignoble deed.”
“Edward Griffith, why not this moment? This is your moment of
probation—submit to the clemency of the crown, and yield your crew to
the royal mercy! In such a case I would remember the child of my
brother Harry’s friend; and believe me, my name is known to the
ministry. And you, misguided and ignorant abettors of rebellion! cast
aside your useless weapons, or prepare to meet the vengeance of yonder
powerful and victorious servant of your prince.”
“Fall back! back with ye, fellows!” cried Griffith, fiercely, to the
men who were gathering around the colonel, with looks of sullen
vengeance. “If a man of you dare approach him, he shall be cast into
the sea.”
The sailors retreated at the order of their commander; but the elated
veteran had continued to pace the deck for many minutes before
stronger interests diverted the angry glances of the seamen to other
objects.
Notwithstanding the ship of the line was slowly sinking beneath the
distant waves, and in less than an hour from the time she had fired
the broadside, no more than one of her three tiers of guns was visible
from the deck of the frigate, she yet presented an irresistible
obstacle against retreat to the south. On the other hand, the ship
first seen drew so nigh as to render the glass no longer necessary in
watching her movements. She proved to be a frigate, though one so
materially lighter than the American, as to have rendered her conquest
easy, had not her two consorts continued to press on for the scene of
battle with such rapidity. During the chase, the scene had shifted
from the point opposite to St. Ruth, to the verge of those shoals
where our tale commenced. As they approached the latter, the smallest
of the English ships drew so nigh as to render the combat unavoidable.
Griffith and his crew had not been idle in the intermediate time, but
all the usual preparations against the casualties of a sea-fight had
been duly made, when the drum once more called the men to their
quarters, and the ship was deliberately stripped of her unnecessary
sails, like a prize-fighter about to enter the arena, casting aside
the incumbrances of dress. At the instant she gave this intimation of
her intention to abandon flight, and trust the issue to the combat,
the nearest English frigate also took in her light canvas in token of
her acceptance of the challenge.
“He is but a little fellow,” said Griffith to the Pilot, who hovered
at his elbow with a sort of fatherly interest in the other’s conduct
of the battle, “though he carries a stout heart.”
“We must crush him at a blow,” returned the stranger; “not a shot must
be delivered until our yards are locking.”
“I see him training his twelves upon us already; we may soon expect
his fire.”
“After standing the brunt of a ninety-gun ship,” observed the
collected Pilot, “we shall not shrink from the broadside of a
two-and-thirty.”
“Stand to your guns, men!” cried Griffith, through his trumpet; “not a
shot is to be fired without the order.”
This caution, so necessary to check the ardor of the seamen, was
hardly uttered, before the enemy became wrapped in sheets of fire and
volumes of smoke, as gun after gun hurled its iron missiles at their
vessel in quick succession. Ten minutes might have passed, the two
vessels sheering close to each other every foot they advanced, during
which time the crew of the American were compelled, by their
commander, to suffer the fire of their adversary, without returning a
shot. This short period, which seemed an age to the seamen, was
distinguished in their vessel by deep silence. Even the wounded and
dying, who fell in every part of the ship, stifled their groans, under
the influence of the severe discipline, which gave a character to
every man, and each movement of the vessel; and those officers who
were required to speak, were heard only in the lowest tones of
resolute preparation. At length the ship slowly entered the skirts of
the smoke that enveloped their enemy; and Griffith heard the man who
stood at his side whisper the word “Now.”
“Let them have it!” cried Griffith, in a voice that was heard in the
remotest parts of the ship.
The shout that burst from the seamen appeared to lift the decks
of the vessel, and the affrighted frigate trembled like an aspen with
the recoil of her own massive artillery, that shot forth a single
sheet of flame, the sailors having disregarded, in their impatience,
the usual order of firing. The effect of the broadside on the enemy
was still more dreadful; for a deathlike silence succeeded to the roar
of guns, which were only broken by the shrieks and execrations that
burst from her, like the moanings of the damned. During the few
moments in which the Americans were again loading their cannon, and
the English were recovering from their confusion, the vessel of the
former moved slowly past her antagonist, and was already doubling
across her bows, when the latter was suddenly, and, considering the
inequality of their forces, it may be added desperately, headed into
her enemy. The two frigates grappled. The sudden and furious charge
made by the Englishman, as he threw his masses of daring seamen along
his bowsprit, and out of his channels, had nearly taken Griffith by
surprise; but Manual, who had delivered his first fire with the
broadside, now did good service, by ordering his men to beat back the
intruders, by a steady and continued discharge. Even the wary Pilot
lost sight of their other foes, in the high daring of that moment, and
smiles of stern pleasure were exchanged between him and Griffith as
both comprehended, at a glance, their advantages.
“Lash his bowsprit to our mizzen-mast,” shouted the lieutenant, “and
we will sweep his decks as he lies!”
Twenty men sprang eagerly forward to execute the order, among the
foremost of whom were Boltrope and the stranger.
“Ay, now he’s our own!” cried the busy master, “and we will take an
owner’s liberties with him, and break him up—for by the eternal—”
“Peace, rude man,” said the Pilot, in a voice of solemn remonstrance;
“at the next instant you may face your God; mock not his awful name!”
The master found time, before he threw himself from the spar on the
deck of the frigate again, to cast a look of amazement at his
companion, who, with a steady mien, but with an eye that lighted with
a warrior’s ardor, viewed the battle that raged around him, like one
who marked its progress to control the result.
[Illustration: “The Two Frigates Grappled”]
The sight of the Englishman rushing onward with shouts and bitter
menaces, warmed the blood of Colonel Howard, who pressed to the side
of the frigate, and encouraged his friends by his gestures and voice,
to come on.
“Away with ye, old croaker!” cried the master, seizing him by the
collar; “away with ye to the hold, or I’ll order you fired from a
gun.”
“Down with your arms, rebellious dog!” shouted the colonel, carried
beyond himself by the ardor of the fray, “down to the dust, and
implore the mercy of your injured prince!”
Invigorated by a momentary glow, the veteran grappled with his brawny
antagonist; but the issue of the short struggle was yet suspended,
when the English, driven back by the fire of the marines, and the
menacing front that Griffith with his boarders presented, retreated to
the forecastle of their own ship, and attempted to return the deadly
blows they were receiving, in their hull, from the cannon that
Barnstable directed. A solitary gun was all they could bring to bear
on the Americans; but this, loaded with canister, was fired so near as
to send its glaring flame into the very faces of their enemies. The
struggling colonel, who was already sinking beneath the arm of his
foe, felt the rough grasp loosen from his throat at the flash, and the
two combatants sunk powerless on their knees, facing each other.
“How now, brother!” exclaimed Boltrope, with a smile of grim
fierceness; “some of that grist has gone to your mill, ha!”
No answer could, however, be given before the yielding forms of both
fell to the deck, where they lay helpless, amid the din of the battle
and the wild confusion of the eager combatants.
Notwithstanding the furious struggle they had witnessed, the elements
did not cease their functions; and, urged by the breeze, and lifted
irresistibly on a wave, the American ship was forced through the water
still farther across the bows of her enemy. The idle fastenings of
hemp and iron were snapped asunder like strings of tow, and Griffith
saw his own ship borne away from the Englishman at the instant that
the bowsprit of the latter was torn from its lashings and tumbled into
the sea, followed by spar after spar, until nothing of all her proud
tackling was remaining, but the few parted and useless ropes that were
left dangling along the stumps of her lower masts. As his own stately
vessel moved from the confusion she had caused, and left the dense
cloud of smoke in which her helpless antagonist lay, the eye of the
young man glanced anxiously towards the horizon, where he now
remembered he had more foes to contend against.
“We have shaken off the thirty-two most happily!” he said to the
Pilot, who followed his motions with singular interest; “but here is
another fellow sheering in for us, who shows as many ports as
ourselves, and who appears inclined for a closer interview; besides,
the hull of the ninety is rising again, and I fear she will be down
but too soon!”
“We must keep the use of our braces and sails,” returned the Pilot,
“and on no account close with the other frigate; we must play a double
game, sir, and fight this new adversary with our heels as well as with
our guns.”
“’Tis time then that we were busy, for he is shortening sail; and as
he nears so fast, we may expect to hear from him every minute; what do
you propose, sir?”
“Let him gather in his canvas,” returned the Pilot; “and when he
thinks himself snug, we can throw out a hundred men at once upon our
yards, and spread everything alow and aloft; we may then draw ahead of
him by surprise; if we can once get him in our wake, I have no fears
of dropping them all.”
“A stern chase is a long chase,” cried Griffith, “and the thing may
do! Clear up the decks, here, and carry down the wounded; and, as we
have our hands full, the poor fellows who have done with us must go
overboard at once.”
This melancholy duty was instantly attended to, while the young seaman
who commanded the frigate returned to his duty, with the absorbed air
of one who felt its high responsibility. These occupations, however,
did not prevent his hearing the sounds of Barnstable’s voice calling
eagerly to young Merry. Bending his head towards the sound, Griffith
beheld his friend, looking anxiously up the main hatch, with a face
grimed with smoke, his coat off, and his shirt bespattered with human
blood. “Tell me, boy,” he said, “is Mr. Griffith untouched? They say
that a shot came in upon the quarter-deck that tripped up the heels of
half a dozen.”
Before Merry could answer, the eyes of Barnstable which even while he
spoke were scanning the state of the vessel’s rigging, encountered the
kind looks of Griffith, and from that moment perfect harmony was
restored between the friends.
“Ah! you are there, Griff, and with a whole skin, I see,” cried
Barnstable, smiling with pleasure; “they have passed poor Boltrope
down into one of his own store-rooms! If that fellow’s bowsprit had
held on ten minutes longer, what a mark I should have made on his face
and eyes!”
“’Tis perhaps best as it is,” returned Griffith; “but what have you
done with those whom we are most bound to protect?”
Barnstable made a significant gesture towards the depths of the
vessel, as he answered,—
“On the cables; safe as wood, iron, and water can keep them—though
Katherine has had her head up three times to—”
A summons from the Pilot drew Griffith away; and the young officers
were compelled to forget their individual feelings, in the pressing
duties of their stations.
The ship which the American frigate had now to oppose was a vessel of
near her own size and equipage; and when Griffith looked at her again,
he perceived that she had made her preparations to assert her equality
in manful fight.
Her sails had been gradually reduced to the usual quantity, and, by
certain movements on her decks, the lieutenant and his constant
attendant, the Pilot, well understood that she only wanted to lessen
her distance a few hundred yards to begin the action.
“Now spread everything,” whispered the stranger.
Griffith applied the trumpet to his mouth, and shouted in a voice that
was carried even to the enemy, “Let fall—out with your booms—sheet
home—hoist away of everything!”
The inspiring cry was answered by a universal bustle; fifty men flew
out on the dizzy heights of the different spars, while broad sheets of
canvas rose as suddenly along the masts, as if some mighty bird were
spreading its wings. The Englishman instantly perceived his mistake,
and he answered the artifice by a roar of artillery. Griffith watched
the effects of the broadside with an absorbing interest, as the shot
whistled above his head; but when he perceived his masts untouched,
and the few unimportant ropes only that were cut, he replied to the
uproar with a burst of pleasure. A few men were, however, seen
clinging with wild frenzy to the cordage, dropping from rope to rope
like wounded birds fluttering through a tree, until they fell heavily
into the ocean, the sullen ship sweeping by them in cold indifference.
At the next instant the spars and masts of their enemy exhibited a
display of men similar to their own, when Griffith again placed the
trumpet to his mouth, and shouted aloud—
“Give it to them; drive them from their yards, boys, scatter them with
your grape—unreeve their rigging!”
The crew of the American wanted but little encouragement to enter on
this experiment with hearty good-will, and the close of his cheering
words were uttered amid the deafening roar of his own cannon. The
Pilot had, however, mistaken the skill and readiness of their foe;
for, notwithstanding the disadvantageous circumstances under which the
Englishman increased his sail, the duty was steadily and dexterously
performed.
The two ships were now running rapidly on parallel lines, hurling at
each other their instruments of destruction with furious industry, and
with severe and certain loss to both, though with no manifest
advantage in favor of either. Both Griffith and the Pilot witnessed
with deep concern this unexpected defeat of their hopes; for they
could not conceal from themselves, that each moment lessened their
velocity through the water, as the shot of their enemy stripped the
canvas from the yards, or dashed aside the lighter spars in their
terrible progress.
“We find our equal here!” said Griffith to the stranger. “The ninety
is heaving up again like a mountain; and if we continue to shorten
sail at this rate, she will soon be down upon us!”
“You say true, sir,” returned the Pilot, musing; “the man shows
judgment as well as spirit: but—”
He was interrupted by Merry, who rushed from the forward part of the
vessel, his whole face betokening the eagerness of his spirit, and the
importance of his intelligence.
“The breakers!” he cried, when nigh enough to be heard amid the din:
“we are running dead on a ripple, and the sea is white not two hundred
yards ahead.”
The Pilot jumped on a gun, and bending to catch a glimpse through the
smoke, he shouted, in those clear, piercing tones, that could be even
heard among the roaring of the cannon, “Port, port your helm! we are
on the Devil’s Grip! pass up the trumpet, sir; port your helm, fellow;
give it them, boys—give it to the proud English dogs!”
Griffith unhesitatingly relinquished the symbol of his rank, fastening
his own firm look on the calm but quick eye of the Pilot, and
gathering assurance from the high confidence he read in the
countenance of the stranger. The seamen were too busy with their
cannon and their rigging to regard the new danger; and the frigate
entered one of the dangerous passes of the shoals, in the heat of a
severely contested battle. The wondering looks of a few of the older
sailors glanced at the sheets of foam that flew by them, in doubt
whether the wild gambols of the waves were occasioned by the shot of
the enemy, when suddenly the noise of cannon was succeeded by the
sullen wash of the disturbed element, and presently the vessel glided
out of her smoky shroud, and was boldly steering in the centre of the
narrow passages. For ten breathless minutes longer the Pilot continued
to hold an uninterrupted sway, during which the vessel ran swiftly by
ripples and breakers, by streaks of foam and darker passages of deep
water, when he threw down his trumpet and exclaimed—
“What threatened to be our destruction has proved our salvation! Keep
yonder hill crowned with wood, one point open from the church tower at
its base, and steer east by north; you will run through these shoals
on that course in an hour, and by so doing you will gain five leagues
of your enemy, who will have to double their tail.”
The moment he stepped from the gun, the Pilot lost the air of
authority that had so singularly distinguished his animated form, and
even the close interest he had manifested in the incidents of the day
became lost in the cold, settled reserve he had affected during his
intercourse with his present associates. Every officer in the ship,
after the breathless suspense of uncertainty had passed, rushed to
those places where a view might be taken of their enemies. The ninety
was still steering boldly onward, and had already approached the
two-and-thirty, which lay a helpless wreck, rolling on the unruly seas
that were rudely tossing her on their wanton billows. The frigate last
engaged was running along the edge of the ripple, with her torn sails
flying loosely in the air, her ragged spars tottering in the breeze,
and everything above her hull exhibiting the confusion of a sudden and
unlooked-for check to her progress. The exulting taunts and mirthful
congratulations of the seamen, as they gazed at the English ships,
were, however, soon forgotten in the attention that was required to
their own vessel. The drums beat the retreat, the guns were lashed,
the wounded again removed, and every individual able to keep the deck
was required to lend his assistance in repairing the damages of the
frigate and securing her masts.
The promised hour carried the ship safely through all the dangers,
which were much lessened by daylight; and by the time the sun had
begun to fall over the land, Griffith, who had not quitted the deck
during the day, beheld his vessel once more cleared of the confusion
of the chase and battle, and ready to meet another foe. At this period
he was summoned to the cabin, at the request of the ship’s chaplain.
Delivering the charge of the frigate to Barnstable, who had been his
active assistant, no less in their subsequent labors than in the
combat, he hastily divested himself of the vestiges of the fight, and
proceeded to obey the repeated and earnest call.
AMONG THE ICE FLOES
(From the Sea Lions.)
By J. FENIMORE COOPER.
“Keep her a good full, Mr. Hazard,” said Roswell, as he was leaving
the deck to take the first sleep in which he had indulged for
four-and-twenty hours, “and let her go through the water. We are
behind our time, and must keep in motion. Give me a call if anything
like ice appears in a serious way.”
Hazard “ay-ay’d” this order, as usual, buttoned his pea-jacket tighter
than ever, and saw his young superior—the transcendental delicacy of
the day is causing the difference in rank to be termed “senior and
junior”—but Hazard saw his superior go below with a feeling allied to
envy, so heavy were his eyelids with the want of rest. Stimson was in
the first mate’s watch, and the latter approached that old sea-dog
with a wish to keep himself awake by conversing.
“You seem as wide awake, King Stephen,” the mate remarked, “as if you
never felt drowsy.”
“This is not a part of the world for hammocks and berths, Mr. Hazard,”
was the reply. “I can get along, and must get along, with a quarter
part of the sleep in these seas as would serve me in a low latitude.”
“And I feel as if I wanted all I can get. Them fellows look up well
into our wake, Stephen.”
“They do indeed, sir, and they ought to do it; for we have been longer
than is for our good in their’n.”
“Well, now we have got a fresh start, I hope we may make a clear run
of it. I saw no ice worth speaking of, to the nor’ard here, before we
made sail.”
“Because you see’d none, Mr. Hazard, is no proof there is none.
Floe-ice can’t be seen at any great distance, though its blink may.
But, it seems to me, it’s all blink in these here seas!”
“There you’re quite right, Stephen, for turn which way you will the
horizon has a show of that sort”—
“Starboard!” called out the lookout forward. “Keep her away—keep her
away—there is ice ahead!”
“Ice in here!” exclaimed Hazard springing forward; “that is more than
we bargained for. Where away is your ice, Smith?”
“Off here, sir, on our weather bow, and a mortal big field of it; jist
sich a chap as nipp’d the Vineyard Lion when she first came in to join
us. Sich a fellow as that would take the sap out of our bends, as a
squeezer takes the juice from a lemon.”
Smith was a carpenter by trade, which was probably the reason why he
introduced this figure. Hazard saw the ice with regret, for he had
hoped to work the schooner fairly out to sea in his watch; but the
field was getting down through the passage in a way that threatened to
cut off the exit of the two schooners from the bay. Daggett kept close
in his wake, a proof that this experienced navigator in such waters
saw no means to turn farther to windward. As the wind was now abeam,
both vessels drove rapidly ahead; and in half an hour the northern
point of the land they had so lately left came into view close aboard
of them. Just then the moon rose, and objects became more clearly
visible.
Hazard hailed the Vineyard Lion, and demanded what was to be done. It
was possible by hauling close on a wind to pass the cape a short
distance to windward of it; and seemingly thus clear the floe. Unless
this were done, both vessels would be compelled to wear, and run for
the southern passage, which would carry them many miles to leeward,
and might place them a long distance on the wrong side of the group.
“Is Captain Gar’ner on deck?” asked Daggett, who had now drawn close
up on the lee quarter of his consort, Hazard having brailed his
foresail and laid his topsail sharp aback to enable him to do so, “if
he isn’t, I’d advise you to give him a call at once.”
This was done immediately; and while it was doing, the Vineyard Lion
swept past the Oyster Pond schooner. Roswell announced his presence on
deck just as the other vessel cleared his bows.
“There’s no time to consult, Gar’ner,” answered Daggett. “There’s our
road before us. Go through it we must, or stay where we are until that
field-ice gives us a jam down yonder in the crescent. I will lead, and
you can follow as soon as your eyes are open.”
One glance let Roswell into the secret of his situation. He liked it
little, but he did not hesitate.
“Fill the topsail, and haul aft the foresheet,” were the quiet orders
that proclaimed what he intended to do.
Both vessels stood on. By some secret process, every man on board the
two crafts became aware of what was going on, and appeared on deck.
All hands were not called, nor was there any particular noise to
attract attention, but the word had been whispered below that there
was a great risk to run. A risk it was, of a verity! It was necessary
to stand close along that iron-bound coast where the seals had so
lately resorted, for a distance of several miles. The wind would not
admit of the schooners steering much more than a cable’s length from
the rock for quite a league; after which the shore tended to the
southward, and a little sea-room would be gained. But on those rocks
the waves were then beating heavily, and their bellowings as they
rolled into the cavities were at almost all times terrific. There was
some relief, however, in the knowledge obtained of the shore, by
having frequently passed up and down it in the boats. It was known
that the water was deep close to the visible rocks, and that there was
no danger as long as a vessel could keep off them.
No one spoke. Every eye was strained to discern objects ahead, or was
looking astern to trace the expected collision between the floe-ice
and the low promontory of the cape. The ear soon gave notice that this
meeting had already taken place; for the frightful sound that attended
the cracking and rending of the field might have been heard fully a
league. Now it was that each schooner did her best: yards were braced
up, sheets flattened, and the helm tended. The close proximity of the
rocks on the one side, and the secret presentiment of there being more
field-ice on the other, kept every one wide awake. The two masters, in
particular, were all eyes and ears. It was getting to be very cold;
and the sort of shelter aloft that goes by the queer name of
“crow’s-nest” had been fitted up in each vessel. A mate was now sent
into each, to ascertain what might be discovered to windward. Almost
at the same instant, these young seamen hailed their respective decks,
and gave notice that a wide field was coming in upon them, and must
eventually crush them, unless avoided. This startling intelligence
reached the two commanders in the very same moment. The emergency
demanded decision, and each man acted for himself. Roswell ordered his
helm put down, and his schooner tacked. The water was not rough enough
to prevent the success of the manœuvre. On the other hand, Daggett
kept a rap full and stood on. Roswell manifested the more judgment and
seamanship. He was now far enough away from the cape to beat to
windward; and, by going nearer to the enemy, he might always run along
its southern boundary, profit by any opening, and would be by as much
as he could thus gain, to windward of the coast. Daggett had one
advantage: by standing on, in the event of a return becoming
necessary, he could gain in time. In ten minutes the two schooners
were a mile asunder. We shall first follow that of Roswell Gardiner’s
in his attempt to escape.
The first floe, which was ripping and tearing one of its angles into
fragments, as it came grinding down on the cape, soon compelled the
vessel to tack. Making short reaches, Roswell ere long found himself
fully a mile to windward of the rocks, and sufficiently near to the
new floe to discern its shape, drift, and general character. Its
eastern end had lodged upon the field that first came in, and was
adding to the first momentum with which that enormous floe was
pressing down upon the cape. Large as was that first visitor to the
bay, this was of at least twice if not of thrice its dimensions. What
gave Roswell the most concern was the great distance that this field
extended to the westward. He went up into the crow’s-nest himself,
and, aided by the light of a most brilliant moon, and a sky without a
cloud, he could perceive the blink of ice in that direction, as he
fancied, for fully two leagues. What was unusual, perhaps, at that
early season of the year, these floes did not consist of a vast
collection of numberless cakes of ice, but the whole field, so far as
could then be ascertained, was firm and united. The nights were now so
cold that ice made fast wherever there was water; and it occurred to
our young master that, possibly, fragments that had once been
separated and broken by the waves, might have become reunited by the
agency of the frost. Roswell descended from the crow’s-nest half
chilled by the cutting wind, though it blew from a warm quarter.
Summoning his mates, he asked their advice.
“It seems to me, Captain Gar’ner,” Hazard replied, “there’s very
little choice. Here we are, so far as I can make it out, embayed, and
we have only to box about until daylight comes, when some chance may
turn up to help us. If so, we must turn it to account; if not, we must
make up our minds to winter here.”
This was coolly and calmly said; though it was clear enough that
Hazard was quite in earnest.
“You forget there may be an open passage to the westward, Mr. Hazard,”
Roswell rejoined, “and that we may yet pass out to sea by it. Captain
Daggett is already out of sight in the western board, and we may do
well to stand on after him.”
“Ay, ay, sir—I know all that, Captain Gar’ner, and it may be as you
say, but when I was aloft, half an hour since, if there wasn’t the
blink of ice in that direction, quite round to the back of the island,
there wasn’t the blink of ice nowhere hereabouts. I’m used to the
sight of it, and can’t well be mistaken.”
“There is always ice on that side of the land, Hazard, and you may
have seen the blink of the bergs which have hugged the cliffs in that
quarter all summer. Still, that is not proving we shall find no
outlet. This craft can go through a very small passage, and we must
take care and find one in proper time. Wintering here is out of the
question. A hundred reasons tell us not to think of such a thing,
besides the interests of our owners. We are walking along this floe
pretty fast, though I think the vessel is too much by the head; don’t
it strike you so, Hazard?”
“Lord, sir, it’s nothing but the ice that has made, and is making
for’ard! Before we got so near the field as to find a better lee, the
little lipper that came athwart our bows froze almost as soon as it
wet us. I do suppose, sir, there are now several tons of ice on our
bows, counting from channel to channel, forward.”
On examination this proved to be true, and the knowledge of the
circumstance did not at all contribute to Gardiner’s feeling of
security. He saw there was no time to be lost, and he crowded sail
with a view of forcing the vessel past the dangers if possible, and of
getting her into a milder climate. But even a fast-sailing schooner
will scarcely equal our wishes under such circumstances. There was no
doubt that the Sea Lion’s speed was getting to be affected by the
manner in which her bows were weighed down by ice, in addition to the
discomfort produced by cold, damp, and the presence of a slippery
substance on the deck and rigging. Fortunately there was not much
spray flying, or matters would have been much worse. As it was, they
were bad enough, and very ominous of future evil.
While the Sea Lion of Oyster Pond was running along the margin of the
ice in the manner just described, and after the blink to the westward
had changed to a visible field, making it very uncertain whether any
egress was to be found in that quarter or not, an opening suddenly
appeared trending to the northward, and sufficiently wide, as Roswell
thought, to enable him to beat through it. Putting his helm down, his
schooner came heavily round, and was filled on a course that soon
carried her half a mile into this passage. At first, everything seemed
propitious, the channel rather opening than otherwise, while the
course was such—north-northwest—as enabled the vessel to make very
long legs on one tack, and that the best. After going about four or
five times, however, all these flattering symptoms suddenly changed,
by the passage terminating in a _cul de sac_. Almost at the same
instant the ice closed rapidly in the schooner’s wake. An effort was
made to run back, but it failed in consequence of an enormous floe’s
turning on its centre, having met resistance from a field closer in,
that was, in its turn, stopped by the rocks. Roswell saw at once that
nothing could be done at the moment. He took in all his canvas, as
well as the frozen cloth could be handled, got out ice-anchors, and
hauled his vessel into a species of cove where there would be the
least danger of a nip, should the fields continue to close.
All this time Daggett was as busy as a bee. He rounded the headland,
and flattered himself that he was about to slip past all the rocks,
and get out into open water, when the vast fields of which the blink
had been seen even by those in the other vessel, suddenly stretched
themselves across his course in a way that set at defiance all
attempts to go any farther in that direction. Daggett wore round, and
endeavored to return. This was by no means as easy as it was to go
down before the wind, and his bows were also much encumbered with ice;
more so, indeed, than those of the other schooner. Once or twice his
craft missed stays in consequence of getting so much by the head, and
it was deemed necessary to heave-to, and take to the axes. A great
deal of extra and cumbrous weight was gotten rid of, but an hour of
most precious time was lost.
By the time Daggett was ready to make sail again, he found his return
round the headland was entirely cut off, by the field’s having come in
absolute contact with the rocks.
It was now midnight, and the men on board both vessels required rest.
A watch was set in each, and most of the people were permitted to turn
in. Of course, proper lookouts were had, but the light of the moon was
not sufficiently distinct to render it safe to make any final efforts
under its favor. No great alarm was felt, there being nothing unusual
in a vessel’s being embayed in the ice; and so long as she was not
nipped or pressed upon by actual contact, the position was thought
safe rather than the reverse. It was desirable, moreover, for the
schooners to communicate with each other; for some advantage might be
known to one of the masters that was concealed by distance from his
companion. Without concert, therefore, Roswell and Daggett came to the
same conclusions, and waited patiently.
The day came at last, cold and dreary, though not altogether without
the relief of an air that blew from regions far warmer than the ocean
over which it was now travelling. Then the two schooners became
visible from each other, and Roswell saw the jeopardy of Daggett, and
Daggett saw the jeopardy of Roswell. The vessels were little more than
a mile apart, but the situation of the Vineyard Lion was much the more
critical. She had made fast to the floe, but her support itself was in
a steady and most imposing motion. As soon as Roswell saw the manner
in which his consort was surrounded, and the very threatening aspect
of the danger that pressed upon him, his first impulse was to hasten
to him, with a party of his own people, to offer any assistance he
could give. After looking at the ice immediately around his own craft,
where all seemed to be right, he called over the names of six of his
men, ordered them to eat a warm breakfast, and to prepare to accompany
him.
In twenty minutes Roswell was leading his little party across the ice,
each man carrying an axe, or some other implement that it was supposed
might be of use. It was by no means difficult to proceed; for the
surface of the floe, one seemingly more than a league in extent, was
quite smooth, and the snow on it was crusted to a strength that would
have borne a team.
“The water between the ice and the rocks is a much narrower strip than
I had thought,” said Roswell to his constant attendant, Stimson.
“Here, it does not appear to be a hundred yards in width!”
“Nor is it, sir,—whew—this trotting in so cold a climate makes a man
puff like a whale blowing—but, Captain Gar’ner, that schooner will be
cut in two before we can get to her. Look, sir! the floe has reached
the rocks already, quite near her; and it does not stop the drift at
all, seemingly.”
Roswell made no reply; the state of the Vineyard Lion did appear to be
much more critical than he had previously imagined. Until he came
nearer to the land, he had formed no notion of the steady power with
which the field was setting down on the rocks on which the broken
fragments were now creeping like creatures endowed with life.
Occasionally there would be loud disruptions, and the movement of the
floe would become more rapid; then, again, a sort of pause would
succeed, and for a moment the approaching party felt a gleam of hope.
But all expectations of this sort were doomed to be disappointed.
“Look, sir!” exclaimed Stimson; “she went down afore it twenty fathoms
at that one set. She must be awful near the rocks, sir!”
All the men now stopped. They knew they were powerless; and intense
anxiety rendered them averse to move. Attention appeared to interfere
with their walking on the ice; and each held his breath in
expectation. They saw that the schooner, then less than a cable’s
length from them, was close to the rocks; and the next shock, if
anything like the last, must overwhelm her. To their astonishment,
instead of being nipped, the schooner rose by a stately movement that
was not without grandeur, upheld by broken cakes that had got beneath
her bottom, and fairly reached the shelf of rocks almost unharmed. Not
a man had left her; but there she was, placed on the shore, some
twenty feet above the surface of the sea, on rocks worn smooth by the
action of the waves! Had the season been propitious, and did the
injury stop here, it might have been possible to get the craft into
the water again, and still carry her to America.
But the floe was not yet arrested. Cake succeeded cake, one riding
another, until a wall of ice rose along the shore, that Roswell and
his companions, with all their activity and courage, had great
difficulty in crossing. They succeeded in getting over it, however;
but when they reached the unfortunate schooner, she was literally
buried. The masts were broken, the sails torn, rigging scattered, and
sides stove. The Sea Lion of Martha’s Vineyard was a worthless
wreck—worthless as to all purposes but that of being converted into
materials for a smaller craft, or to be used as fuel.
All this had been done in ten minutes! Then it was that the vast
superiority of nature over the resources of man made itself apparent.
The people of the two vessels stood aghast with this sad picture of
their own insignificance before their eyes. The crew of the wreck, it
is true, had escaped without difficulty; the movement having been as
slow and steady as it was irresistible. But there they were, in the
clothes they had on, with all their effects buried under piles of ice
that were already thirty or forty feet in height.
“She looks as if she was built there, Gar’ner!” Daggett coolly
observed, as he stood regarding the scene with eyes as intently
riveted on the wreck as human organs were ever fixed on any object.
“Had a man told me this could happen, I would not have believed him!”
“Had she been a three-decker, this ice would have treated her in the
same way. There is a force in such a field that walls of stone could
not withstand.”
“Captain Gar’ner—Captain Gar’ner,” called out Stimson, hastily; “we’d
better go back, sir; our own craft is in danger. She is drifting fast
in towards the cape, and may reach it afore we can get to her!”
Sure enough, it was so. In one of the changes that are so
unaccountable among the ice, the floe had taken a sudden and powerful
direction towards the entrance of the Great Bay. It was probably owing
to the circumstance that the inner field had forced its way past the
cape, and made room for its neighbor to follow. A few of Daggett’s
people, with Daggett himself, remained to see what might yet be saved
from the wreck; but all the rest of the men started for the cape,
towards which the Oyster Pond craft was now directly setting. The
distance was less than a league; and, as yet, there was not much snow
on the rocks. By taking an upper shelf, it was possible to make pretty
good progress; and such was the manner of Roswell’s present march.
It was an extraordinary sight to see the coast along which our party
was hastening, just at that moment. As the cakes of ice were broken
from the field, they were driven upward by the vast pressure from
without, and the whole line of the shore seemed as if alive with
creatures that were issuing from the ocean to clamber on the rocks.
Roswell had often seen that very coast peopled with seals, as it now
appeared to be in activity with fragments of ice, that were writhing
and turning, and rising, one upon another, as if possessed of the
vital principle.
In half an hour Roswell and his party reached the house. The schooner
was then less than half a mile from the spot, still setting in, along
with the outer field, but not nipped. So far from being in danger of
such a calamity, the little basin in which she lay had expanded,
instead of closing; and it would have been possible to handle a
quick-working craft in it, under her canvas. An exit, however, was
quite out of the question; there being no sign of any passage to or
from that icy dock. There the craft still lay, anchored to the
weather-floe, while the portion of her crew which remained on board
was as anxiously watching the coast as those who were on the coast
watched her. At first, Roswell gave his schooner up; but on closer
examination found reason to hope that she might pass the rocks, and
enter the inner, rather than the Great Bay.
A TORNADO AT SEA
(From The Green Hand.)
By GEORGE CUPPLES.
“What was my horror when I saw the quicksilver had sunk so far below
the mark, probably fixed there that morning, as to be almost shrunk in
the ball! Whatever the merchant service might know about the
instrument in those days, the African coast was the place to teach its
right use to us in the old Iris. I laid down my knife and fork as
carelessly as I could, and went straight on deck.
“Here I sought out the mate, who was forward, watching the land—and at
once took him aside to tell him the fact. ‘Well, sir,’ said he,
coolly, ‘and what of that? A sign of wind, certainly, before very
long; but in the meantime we’re _sure_ to have it off the land.’
‘That’s one of the very reasons,’ said I, ‘for thinking _this_ will be
from seaward—since towards evening the land’ll have plenty of air
without it! But more than that, sir,’ said I, ‘I tell you, Mr. Finch,
I know the west coast of Africa pretty well—and so far south as this,
the glass falling so low as _twenty-seven_, is always the sign of a
nor’westerly blow! If you’re a wise man, sir, you’ll not only get your
upper spars down on deck, but you’ll see your anchors clear!’ Finch
had plainly got furious at my meddling again, and said he, ‘Instead of
that, sir, I shall hold on _everything_ aloft, to stand out when I get
the breeze!’ ‘D’ye really think, then,’ said I, pointing to the
farthest-off streak of land, trending away by this time astern of us,
faint as it was, ‘_do_ you think you could ever weather that point,
with anything like a strong nor’wester, besides a current heading you
in, as you got fair hold of it again?’ ‘Perhaps not,’ said he, wincing
a little as he glanced at it; ‘but you happen always to suppose what
there’s a thousand to one against, sir. Why, sir, you might as well
take the command at once. But, sir, if it _did_ come to that, I’d
rather—I’d rather see the ship _lost_—I’d rather go to the bottom with
all in her, after handling her as I know well how, than I’d see the
chance given to _you_!’ The young fellow fairly shouted this last word
into my very ear—he was in a regular furious passion. ‘You’d _better_
let me alone, that’s all I’ve got to say to you, sir!’ growled he, as
he turned away; so I thought it no use to say more, and leaned over
the bulwarks, resolved to see it out.
“The fact was, the farther we got off the land _now_, the worse,
seeing that if what I dreaded should prove true, why, we were probably
in thirty or forty fathoms of water, where no anchor could hold for
ten minutes’ time—if it ever caught ground. My way would have been to
get every boat out at once, and tow in till you could see the color of
some shoal or other from aloft, then take my chance there to ride out
whatever might come, to the last cable aboard of us. Accordingly, I
wasn’t sorry to see that by this time the whole bight of the coast was
slowly rising off our beam betwixt the high land far astern and the
broad bluffs upon her starboard bow; which last came out already of a
sandy reddish tint, and the lower part of a clear blue, as the sun got
westward on our other side. What struck me was, that the face of the
water, which was all over wrinkles and winding lines, with here and
there a quick ripple, when I went below, had got on a sudden quite
smooth as far as you could see, as if they’d sunk down like so many
eels; a long uneasy ground-swell was beginning to heave in from
seaward, on which the ship rose; once or twice I fancied I could
observe the color different away towards the land, like the muddy
chocolate spreading out near a river-mouth at ebb-tide—then again it
was green, rather; and as for the look of the coast, I had no
knowledge of it. I thought again, certainly, of the old
quartermaster’s account in the Iris, but there was neither anything
like to be seen, nor any sign of a break in the coast at all, though
high headlands enough.
“The ship might have been about twelve or fourteen miles from the
northeast point upon her starboard bow, a high rocky range of
bluffs—and rather less from the nearest of what lay away off her beam;
but after this you could mark nothing more, except it were that she
edged farther from the point, by the way its bearings shifted or got
blurred together: either she stood still, or she’d caught some eddy or
underdrift, and the mate walked about quite lively once more. The
matter was how to breathe, or bear your clothes—when all of a sudden I
heard the second mate sing out from the forecastle—‘Stand by the
braces, there! Look out for the tops’l hawl-yards!’
“He came shuffling aft the next moment as fast as his foundered old
shanks could carry him, and told Mr. Finch there was a squall coming
off the land. The mate sprang up on the bulwarks, and so did
I—catching a glance from him, as much as to say, ‘There’s your gale
from seaward, you pretentious lubber!’ The lowest streak of coast bore
at present before our starboard quarter, betwixt east and
south-east’ard, with some pretty high land running away up from it,
and a sort of dim blue haze hanging beyond, as ’twere. Just as Macleod
spoke, I could see a dusky dark vapor thickening and spreading in the
haze, till it rose black along the flat, out of the sky behind it;
whitened and then darkened again, like a heavy smoke floating up into
the air. All was confusion on deck for a minute or two—off went all
the awnings—and every hand was ready at his station, fisting the
ropes; when I looked again at the cloud, and then at the mates. ‘By
George!’ said I, noticing a pale wreath of it go curling up on the
pale clear sky over it, as to a puff of air, ‘it _is_ smoke! Some
niggers, as they often do, burning the bush!’
“So it was; and as soon as Finch gave in, all hands quietly coiled up
the ropes. It was scarce five minutes after, that Jacobs, who was
coiling up a rope beside me, gave me a quiet touch with one finger.
‘Mr. Collins, sir,’ said he, in a low voice, looking almost right up,
high over toward the ship’s larboard bow, which he couldn’t have done
before, for the awnings so lately above us, ‘look, sir—there’s an
_ox-eye_!’ I followed his gaze, but it wasn’t for a few seconds that I
found what it pointed to, in the hot far-off-like blue dimness of the
sky overhead, compared with the white glare of which to westward our
canvas aloft was but dirty gray and yellow.
“’Twas what none but a seaman would have observed, and many a seaman
wouldn’t have done so—but a man-o-war’s-man is used to look out at all
hours, in all latitudes—and to a man that knew its meaning, _this_
would have been no joke, even out of sight of land; as it was, the
thing gave me a perfect thrill of dread. High aloft in the heavens
northward, where they were freest from the sun—now standing over the
open horizon amidst a wide bright pool of light—you managed to discern
a small silvery speck, growing slowly, as it were, out of the faint
blue hollow, like a star in the daytime, till you felt as if it
_looked_ at you, from God knows what distance away. One eye after
another amongst the mates and crew joined Jacobs’ and mine, with the
same sort of dumb fellowship to be seen when a man in London streets
watches the top of a steeple; and however hard to make out at first,
ere long none of them could miss seeing it, as it got slowly larger,
sinking by degrees till the sky close about it seemed to thicken like
a dusky ring round the white, and the sunlight upon our seaward
quarter blazed out doubly strong—as if it came dazzling off a brass
bell, with the bright tongue swinging in it far off to one side, where
the hush made you think of a stroke back upon us, with some terrific
sound to boot.
“The glassy water by this time was beginning to rise under the ship
with a struggling kind of unequal heave, as if a giant you couldn’t
see kept shoving it down here and there with both hands, and it came
swelling up elsewhere.
“To north-westward or thereabouts, betwixt the sun and this ill-boding
token aloft, the far line of open sea still lay shining motionless and
smooth; next time you looked, it had got even brighter than before,
seeming to leave the horizon visibly; then the streak of air just
above it had grown gray, and a long hedge of hazy vapor was creeping
as it were over from beyond—the white speck all the while travelling
down towards it slantwise from nor’ard, and spreading its dark ring
slowly out into a circle of cloud, till the keen eye of it at last
sank in, and below, as well as aloft, the whole north-western quarter
got blurred together in one gloomy mass. If there was a question at
first whether the wind mightn’t come from so far nor’ard as to give
her a chance of running out to sea before it, there was none now—our
sole recourse lay either in getting nearer the land meanwhile, to let
go our anchors ere it came on, with her head to it—or we might make a
desperate trial to weather the lee-point now far astern. The fact was,
we were going to have a regular tornado, and that of the worst kind,
which wouldn’t soon blow itself out; though near an hour’s notice
would probably pass ere it was on.
“The three mates laid their heads gravely together over the capstan
for a minute or two, after which Finch seemed to perceive that the
first of the two ways was the safer; though, of course, the nearer we
should get to the land, the less chance there was of clearing it
afterwards, should her cables part, or the anchors drag. The two boats
still alongside, and two others dropped from the davits, were manned
at once and set to towing the Indiaman ahead, in-shore; while the
bower and sheet anchors were got out to the cat-heads ready for
letting go, cables overhauled, ranged, and clinched as quickly as
possible, and the deep-sea lead passed along to take soundings every
few minutes.
“On we crept, slow as death, and almost as still, except the jerk of
the oars from the heaving waters at her bows, and the loud flap of the
big topsails now and then, everything aloft save them and the brailed
foresail being already close furled; the clouds all the while rising
away along our larboard beam nor’west and north, over the gray bank on
the horizon, till once more you could scarce say which point the wind
would come from, unless by the huge purple heap of vapor in the midst.
The sun had got low, and he shivered his dazzling spokes of light
behind one edge of it, as if ’twere a mountain you saw over some coast
or other; indeed, you’d have thought the ship almost shut in by land
on both sides of her, which was what seemed to terrify the passengers
most, as they gathered about the poop-stairs and watched it—_which_
was the true land and which the clouds, ’twas hard to say—and the sea
gloomed writhing between them like a huge lake in the mountains.
“I saw Sir Charles Hyde walk out of the round-house and in again,
glancing uneasily about; his daughter was standing with another young
lady, gazing at the land; and at sight of her sweet, curious face, I’d
have given worlds to be able to do something that might save it from
the chance, possibly, of being that very night dashed amongst the
breakers on a lee shore in the dark—or at best, suppose the Almighty
favored any of us so far, perhaps landed in the wilds of Africa. Had
there been aught man could do more, why, though I never should get a
smile for it, I’d have compassed it, mate or no mate; but all was done
that could be done, and I had nothing to say. Westwood came near her,
too, apparently seeing our bad case at last to some extent, and both
trying to break it to her, and to assure her mind; so I folded my arms
again, and kept my eyes fixed hard upon the bank of cloud, as some new
weather-mark stole out in it, and the sea stretched breathlessly away
below, like new melted lead.
“The air was like to choke you—or rather there was none—as if water,
sky, and everything else wanted _life_, and one would fain have caught
the first rush of the tornado into his mouth—the men emptying the
dipper on deck from the cask, from sheer loathing. As for the land, it
seemed to draw nearer of itself, till every point and wrinkle in the
headland off our bow came out in a red coppery gleam—one saw the white
line of surf round it, and some blue country beyond like indigo; then
back it darkened again, and all aloft was getting livid-like over the
bare royal mast-heads.
“Suddenly, a faint air was felt to flutter from landward; it half
lifted the topsails, and a heavy earthy smell came into your
nostrils—the first of the land breeze, at last; but by this time it
was no more than a sort of mockery, while a minute after you might
catch a low, sullen, moaning sound far off through the emptiness, from
the strong surf the Atlantic sends in upon the west coast before a
squall. If ever landsmen found out what land on the wrong side is, the
passengers of the Seringapatam did, that moment; the shudder of the
topsails aloft seemed to pass
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