CHAPTER IV.
----"Behold the threaden sails, Borne with the invisible and creeping winds, Draw the huge bottoms through the furrowed sea, Breasting the lofty surge." _Shakespeare._
It has been already explained to the reader, that there were threateningsymptoms in the appearance of the weather to create serious forebodingsof evil in the breast of a seaman. When removed from the shadows of thecliffs, the night was not so dark but objects could be discerned atsome little distance, and in the eastern horizon there was a streak offearful light impending over the gloomy waters, in which the swellingoutline formed by the rising waves was becoming each moment moredistinct, and, consequently, more alarming. Several dark clouds overhungthe vessel, whose towering masts apparently propped the black vapor,while a few stars were seen twinkling, with a sickly flame, in thestreak of clear sky that skirted the ocean. Still, light currents ofair occasionally swept across the bay, bringing with them the fresh odorfrom the shore, but their flitting irregularity too surely foretold themto be the expiring breath of the land breeze. The roaring of the surf,as it rolled on the margin of the bay, produced a dull, monotonoussound, that was only Interrupted at times by a hollow bellowing, as alarger wave than usual broke violently against some cavity in the rock.Everything, in short, united to render the scene gloomy and portentous,without creating instant terror, for the ship rose easily on the longbillows, without even straightening the heavy cable that held her to heranchor.
The higher officers were collected around the capstan, engaged inearnest discourse about their situation and prospects, while some ofthe oldest and most favored seamen would extend their short walk to thehallowed precincts of the quarter-deck, to catch, with greedy ears,the opinions that fell from their superiors. Numberless were the uneasyglances that were thrown from both officers and men at their commanderand the pilot, who still continued their secret communion in a distantpart of the vessel. Once, an ungovernable curiosity, or the heedlessnessof his years, led one of the youthful midshipmen near them; but a sternrebuke from his captain sent the boy, abashed and cowering, to hidehis mortification among his fellows. This reprimand was received by theelder officers as an intimation that the consultation which they beheldwas to be strictly inviolate; and, though it by no means suppressed therepeated expressions of their impatience, it effectually prevented aninterruption to the communications, which all, however, thought wereunreasonably protracted for the occasion.
"This is no time to be talking over bearings and distances," observedthe officer next in rank to Griffith; "but we should call the hands up,and try to kedge her off while the sea will suffer a boat to live."
"'Twould be a tedious and bootless job to attempt warping a ship formiles against a head-beating sea," returned the first lieutenant; "butthe land-breeze yet flutters aloft, and if our light sails would draw,with the aid of this ebb tide we might be able to shove her from theshore."
"Hail the tops, Griffith," said the other, "and ask if they feel the airabove; 'twill be a hint at least to set the old man and that lubberlypilot in motion."
Griffith laughed as he complied with the request, and when he receivedthe customary reply to his call, he demanded in a loud voice:
"Which way have you the wind, aloft?"
"We feel a light catspaw, now and then, from the land, sir," returnedthe sturdy captain of the top; "but our topsail hangs in the clewlines,sir, without winking."
Captain Munson and his companion suspended their discourse while thisquestion and answer were exchanged, and then resumed their dialogue asearnestly as if it had received no interruption.
"If it did wink, the hint would be lost on our betters," said theofficer of the marines, whose ignorance of seamanship added greatly tohis perception of the danger, but who, from pure idleness, made morejokes than any other man in the ship. "That pilot would not receive adelicate intimation through his ears, Mr. Griffith; suppose you try himby the nose."
"Faith, there was a flash of gunpowder between us in the barge,"returned the first lieutenant, "and he does not seem a man to stomachsuch hints as you advise. Although he looks so meek and quiet, I doubtwhether he has paid much attention to the book of Job."
"Why should he?" exclaimed the chaplain, whose apprehensions at leastequaled those of the marine, and with a much more disheartening effect;"I am sure it would have been a great waste of time: there are so manycharts of the coast, and books on the navigation of these seas, for himto study, that I sincerely hope he has been much better employed."
A loud laugh was created at this speech among the listeners, and itapparently produced the effect that was so long anxiously desired, byputting an end to the mysterious conference between their captain andthe pilot. As the former came forward towards his expecting crew, hesaid, is the composed, steady manner that formed the principal trait inhis character:
"Get the anchor, Mr. Griffith, and make sail on the ship; the hour hasarrived when we must be moving."
The cheerful "Ay! ay! sir!" of the young lieutenant was hardly uttered,before the cries of half a dozen midshipmen were heard summoning theboatswain and his mates to their duty.
There was a general movement in the living masses that clustered aroundthe mainmast, on the booms, and in the gangways, though their habits ofdiscipline held the crew a moment longer in suspense. The silence wasfirst broken by the sound of the boatswain's whistle, followed by thehoarse cry of "All hands, up anchor, ahoy!"--the former rising on thenight air, from its first low mellow notes to a piercing shrillnessthat gradually died away on the waters; and the latter bellowing throughevery cranny of the ship, like the hollow murmurs of distant thunder.
The change produced by the customary summons was magical. Humanbeings sprang out from between the guns, rushed up the hatches, threwthemselves with careless activity from the booms, and gathered fromevery quarter so rapidly, that in an instant the deck of the frigatewas alive with men. The profound silence, that had hitherto been onlyinterrupted by the low dialogue of the officers, was now changed for thestern orders of the lieutenants, mingled with the shriller cries of themidshipmen, and the hoarse bawling of the boatswain's crew, rising abovethe tumult of preparation and general bustle.
The captain and the pilot alone remained passive, in this scene ofgeneral exertion; for apprehension had even stimulated that class ofofficers which is called "idlers" to unusual activity, though frequentlyreminded by their more experienced messmates that, instead of aiding,they retarded the duty of the vessel. The bustle, however, graduallyceased, and in a few minutes the same silence pervaded the ship asbefore.
"We are brought-to, sir," said Griffith, who stood overlooking thescene, holding in one hand a short speaking, trumpet, and graspingwith the other one of the shrouds of the ship, to steady himself in theposition he had taken on a gun.
"Heave round, sir," was the calm reply.
"Heave round!" repeated Griffith, aloud.
"Heave round!" echoed a dozen eager voices at once, and the livelystrains of a fife struck up a brisk air, to enliven the labor. Thecapstan was instantly set in motion, and the measured tread of theseamen was heard, as they stamped the deck in the circle of their march.For a few minutes no other sounds were heard, if we except the voiceof an officer, occasionally cheering the sailors, when it was announcedthat they "were short;" or, in other words, that the ship was nearlyover her anchor.
"Heave and pull," cried Griffith; when the quivering notes of thewhistle were again succeeded by a general stillness in the vessel.
"What is to be done now, sir?" continued the lieutenant; "shall we tripthe anchor? There seems not a breath of air; and as the tide runs slack,I doubt whether the sea do not heave the ship ashore."
There was so much obvious truth in this conjecture, that all eyes turnedfrom the light and animation afforded by the decks of the frigate, tolook abroad on the waters, in a vain desire to pierce the darkness, asif to read the fate of their apparently devoted ship from the aspect ofnature.
"I leave all to the p
ilot," said the captain, after he had stood a shorttime by the side of Griffith, anxiously studying the heavens and theocean. "What say you, Mr. Gray?"
The man who was thus first addressed by name was leaning over thebulwarks, with his eyes bent in the same direction as the others; but ashe answered he turned his face towards the speaker, and the light fromthe deck fell full upon his quiet features, which exhibited acalmness bordering on the supernatural, considering his station andresponsibility.
"There is much to fear from this heavy ground-swell," he said, in thesame unmoved tones as before; "but there is certain destruction to us,if the gale that is brewing in the east finds us waiting its fury inthis wild anchorage. All the hemp that ever was spun into cordage wouldnot hold a ship an hour, chafing on these rocks, with a northeasterpouring its fury on her. If the powers of man can compass it, gentlemen,we must get an offing, and that speedily."
"You say no more, sir, than the youngest boy in the ship can see forhimself," said Griffith--"ha! here comes the schooner!"
The dashing of the long sweeps in the water was now plainly audible, andthe little Ariel was seen through the gloom, moving heavily under theirfeeble impulse. As she passed slowly under the stern of the frigate, thecheerful voice of Barnstable was first heard, opening the communicationsbetween them.
"Here's a night for spectacles, Captain Munson!" he cried; "but Ithought I heard your fife, sir. I trust in God, you do not mean to rideit out here till morning?"
"I like the berth as little as yourself, Mr. Barnstable," returnedthe veteran seaman, in his calm manner, in which anxiety was, however,beginning to grow evident. "We are short; but are afraid to let go ourhold of the bottom, lest the sea cast us ashore. How make you out thewind?"
"Wind!" echoed the other; "there is not enough to blow a lady's curlaside. If you wait, sir, till the land-breeze fills your sails, you willwait another moon. I believe I've got my eggshell out of that nestof gray-caps; but how it has been done in the dark, a better man thanmyself must explain."
"Take your directions from the pilot, Mr. Barnstable," returned hiscommanding officer, "and follow them strictly and to the letter."
A deathlike silence, in both vessels, succeeded this order; for allseemed to listen eagerly to catch the words that fell from the man onwhom, even the boys now felt, depended their only hopes for safety. Ashort time was suffered to elapse, before his voice was heard, in thesame low but distinct tones as before:
"Your sweeps will soon be of no service to you," he said, "against thesea that begins to heave in; but your light sails will help them to getyou out. So long as you can head east-and-by-north, you are doingwell, and you can stand on till you open the light from that northernheadland, when you can heave to and fire a gun; but if, as I dread, youare struck aback before you open the light, you may trust to your leadon the larboard tack; but beware, with your head to the southward, forno lead will serve you there."
"I can walk over the same ground on one tack as on the other," saidBarnstable, "and make both legs of a length."
"It will not do," returned the pilot. "If you fall off a point tostarboard from east-and-by-north, in going large, you will find bothrocks and points of shoals to bring you up; and beware, as I tell you,of the starboard tack."
"And how shall I find my way? you will let me trust to neither time,lead, nor log."
"You must trust to a quick eye and a ready hand. The breakers only willshow you the dangers, when you are not able to make out the bearings ofthe land. Tack in season, sir, and don't spare the lead when you head toport."
"Ay, ay," returned Barnstable, in a low muttering voice. "This is a sortof blind navigation with a vengeance, and all for no purpose that I cansee--see! damme, eyesight is of about as much use now as a man's nosewould be in reading the Bible."
"Softly, softly, Mr. Barnstable," interrupted his commander--for suchwas the anxious stillness in both vessels that even the rattling ofthe schooner's rigging was heard, as she rolled in the trough of thesea--"the duty on which Congress has sent us must be performed, at thehazard of our lives."
"I don't mind my life, Captain Munson," said Barnstable, "but there isa great want of conscience in trusting a vessel in such a place asthis. However, it is a time to do, and not to talk. But if there be suchdanger to an easy draught of water, what will become of the frigate? hadI not better play jackal, and try and feel the way for you?"
"I thank you," said the pilot; "the offer is generous, but would availus nothing. I have the advantage of knowing the ground well, and musttrust to my memory and God's good favor. Make sail, make sail, sir, andif you succeed, we will venture to break ground."
The order was promptly obeyed, and in a very short time the Ariel wascovered with canvas. Though no air was perceptible on the decks of thefrigate, the little schooner was so light that she succeeded in stemmingher way over the rising waves, aided a little by the tide; and in a fewminutes her low hull was just discernible in the streak of light alongthe horizon, with the dark outline of her sails rising above the sea,until their fanciful summits were lost in the shadows of the clouds.
Griffith had listened to the foregoing dialogue, like the rest of thejunior officers, in profound silence; but when the Ariel began to growindistinct to the eye, he jumped lightly from the gun to the deck, andcried:
"She slips off, like a vessel from the stocks! Shall I trip the anchor,sir, and follow?"
"We have no choice," replied his captain. "You hear the question, Mr.Gray? shall we let go the bottom?"
"It must be done, Captain Munson; we may want more drift than the restof this tide to get us to a place of safety," said the pilot "I wouldgive five years from a life that I know will be short, if the ship layone mile further seaward."
This remark was unheard by all, except the commander of the frigate, whoagain walked aside with the pilot, where they resumed their mysteriouscommunications. The words of assent were no sooner uttered, however,than Griffith gave forth from his trumpet the command to "heave away!"Again the strains of the fife were followed by the tread of the men atthe capstan. At the same time that the anchor was heaving up, thesails were loosened from the yards, and opened to invite the breeze. Ineffecting this duty, orders were thundered through the trumpet of thefirst lieutenant, and executed with the rapidity of thought. Men wereto be seen, like spots in the dim light from the heavens, lying on everyyard or hanging as in air, while strange cries were heard issuingfrom every part of the rigging and each spar of the vessel. "Ready theforeroyal," cried a shrill voice, as if from the clouds; "ready theforeyard," uttered the hoarser tones of a seaman beneath him; "all readyaft, sir," cried a third, from another quarter; and in a few moments theorder was given to "let fall."
The little light which fell from the sky was now excluded by the fallingcanvas, and a deeper gloom was cast athwart the decks of the ship, thatserved to render the brilliancy of the lanterns even vivid, while itgave to objects outboard a more appalling and dreary appearance thanbefore.
Every individual, excepting the commander and his associate, was nowearnestly engaged in getting the ship under way. The sounds of "we'reaway" were repeated by a burst from fifty voices, and the rapidevolutions of the capstan announced that nothing but the weight of theanchor was to be lifted. The hauling of cordage, the rattling of blocks,blended with the shrill calls of the boatswain and his mates, succeeded;and though to a landsman all would have appeared confusion and hurry,long practice and strict discipline enabled the crew to exhibit theirship under a cloud of canvas, from her deck to the trucks, in less timethan we have consumed in relating it.
For a few minutes, the officers were not disappointed by the result; forthough the heavy sails flapped lazily against the masts, the light duckon the loftier spars swelled outwardly, and the ship began sensibly toyield to their influence.
"She travels! she travels!" exclaimed Griffith joyously; "ah! the hussy!she has as much antipathy to the land as any fish that swims: it blows alittle gale aloft yet!"
"We fee
l its dying breath," said the pilot, in low, soothing tones, butin a manner so sudden as to startle Griffith, at whose elbow they wereunexpectedly uttered. "Let us forget, young man, everything but thenumber of lives that depend, this night, on your exertions and myknowledge."
"If you be but half as able to exhibit the one as I am willing to makethe other, we shall do well," returned the lieutenant, in the same tone."Remember, whatever may be your feelings, that _we_ are on an enemy'scoast, and love it not enough to wish to lay our bones there."
With this brief explanation they separated, the vessel requiring theconstant and close attention of the officer to her movements.
The exultation produced in the crew by the progress of their shipthrough the water was of short duration; for the breeze that had seemedto await their motions, after forcing the vessel for a quarter of amile, fluttered for a few minutes amid their light canvas, and then leftthem entirely. The quartermaster, whose duty it was to superintend thehelm, soon announced that he was losing the command of the vessel, asshe was no longer obedient to her rudder. This ungrateful intelligencewas promptly communicated to his commander by Griffith, who suggestedthe propriety of again dropping an anchor.
"I refer you to Mr. Gray," returned the captain; "he is the pilot, sir,and with him rests the safety of the vessel."
"Pilots sometimes lose ships as well as save them," said Griffith:"know you the man well, Captain Munson, who holds all our lives in hiskeeping, and so coolly as if he cared but little for the venture?"
"Mr. Griffith, I do know him; he is, in my opinion, both competent andfaithful. Thus much I tell you, to relieve your anxiety; more you mustnot ask;--but is there not a shift of wind?"
"God forbid!" exclaimed his lieutenant; "if that northeaster catches uswithin the shoals, our case will be desperate indeed!"
The heavy rolling of the vessel caused an occasional expansion, and assudden a reaction, in their sails, which left the oldest seaman in theship in doubt which way the currents of air were passing, or whetherthere existed any that were not created by the flapping of their owncanvas. The head of the ship, however, began to fall off from the sea,and notwithstanding the darkness, it soon became apparent that she wasdriving in, bodily, towards the shore.
During these few minutes of gloomy doubt, Griffith, by one of thosesudden revulsions of the mind that connect the opposite extremes offeeling, lost his animated anxiety, and elapsed into the listless apathythat so often came over him, even in the most critical moments of trialand danger. He was standing with one elbow resting on his capstan,shading his eyes from the light of the battle-lantern that stood nearhim with one hand, when he felt a gentle pressure of the other,that recalled his recollection. Looking affectionately, though stillrecklessly, at the boy who stood at his side, he said:
"Dull music, Mr. Merry."
"So dull, sir, that I can't dance to it," returned the midshipman. "Nordo I believe there is a man in the ship who would not rather hear 'Thegirl I left behind me,' than those execrable sounds."
"What sounds, boy? The ship is as quiet as the Quaker meeting in theJerseys, before your good old grandfather used to break the charm ofsilence with his sonorous voice."
"Ah! laugh at my peaceable blood, if thou wilt, Mr. Griffith," said thearch youngster, "but remember, there is a mixture of it in all sorts ofveins. I wish I could hear one of the old gentleman's chants now, sir; Icould always sleep to them, like a gull in the surf. But he that sleepsto-night, with that lullaby, will make a nap of it."
"Sounds! I hear no sounds, boy, but the flapping aloft; even that pilot,who struts the quarter-deck like an admiral, has nothing to say."
"Is not that a sound to open a seaman's ear?"
"It is in truth a heavy roll of the surf, lad, but the night aircarries it heavily to our ears. Know you not the sounds of the surf yet,younker?"
"I know it too well, Mr. Griffith, and do not wish to know it better.How fast are we tumbling in towards that surf, sir?"
"I think we hold our own," said Griffith, rousing again; "though we hadbetter anchor. Luff, fellow, luff--you are broadside to the sea!"
The man at the wheel repeated his former intelligence, adding asuggestion, that he thought the ship "was gathering stern way."
"Haul up your courses, Mr. Griffith," said Captain Munson, "and let usfeel the wind."
The rattling of the blocks was soon heard, and the enormous sheets ofcanvas that hung from the lower yards were instantly suspended "in thebrails." When this change was effected, all on board stood silent andbreathless, as if expecting to learn their fate by the result. Severalcontradictory opinions were, at length, hazarded among the officers,when Griffith seized the candle from the lantern, and springing on oneof the guns, held it on high, exposed to the action of the air. Thelittle flame waved, with uncertain glimmering, for a moment, and thenburned steadily, in a line with the masts. Griffith was about to lowerhis extended arm, when, feeling a slight sensation of coolness on hishand, he paused, and the light turned slowly toward the land, flared,flickered, and finally deserted the wick.
"Lose not a moment, Mr. Griffith," cried the pilot aloud; "clew up andfurl everything but your three topsails, and let them be double-reefed.Now is the time to fulfill your promise."
The young man paused one moment, in astonishment, as the clear, distincttones of the stranger struck his ears so unexpectedly; but turning hiseyes to seaward, he sprang on the deck, and proceeded to obey the order,as if life and death depended on his dispatch.