XIV.
THE VOYAGE AND THE STORM.
On the morning of the 9th of January the fleet sailed.
Frank was on board the schooner towed out by her steam consort.
Although the morning was cold and wet, the decks of the transports werecrowded with troops witnessing the magnificent spectacle of their owndeparture.
Just before they got under way, a jubilant cheering was heard. Frank madehis way to the vessel's side, to see what was going on. A small row-boatpassed, conveying some officer of distinction to his ship. Frank observedthat he was a person of quite unpretending appearance, but of pleasantand noble features.
"Burnside! Burnside! Burnside!" shouted a hundred voices.
And in acknowledgment of the compliment, the modest hero of theexpedition stood up in the boat, and uncovered his high, bald foreheadand dome-like head.
The rowers pulled at their oars, and the boat dashed on over the dancingwaters, greeted with like enthusiasm every where, until the general'sflag-ship, the little steamer Picket, took him on board.
And now the anchors were up, the smoke-pipes trailed their cloudystreamers on the breeze, flags and pennants were flying, paddle-wheelsbegan to turn and plash, the bands played gay music, and the fleet drewoff, in a long line of countless steamers and sailing vessels, down theSevern, and down the Chesapeake.
All day, through a cold, drizzling rain, the fleet sailed on, thetransports still keeping in sight of each other, in a line extending formiles along the bleak, inhospitable bay.
The next morning, Frank went on deck, and found the schooner at anchor ina fog. The steamer lay alongside. No other object was visible--only therestlessly-dashing waters. The wild shrieking of the steamer's whistle,blowing in the fog to warn other vessels of the fleet to avoid runningdown upon them, the near and far responses of similarly screamingwhistles, and of invisible tolling bells, added impressiveness to thesituation.
At nine o'clock, anchors were weighed again, and the fleet proceededslowly, feeling its way, as it were, in the obscurity. There was more orless fog throughout the day; but towards sundown a breeze blew from theshore, the fog rolled back upon the sea, the clouds broke into wildflying masses, the blue sky shone through, and the sunset poured itsplacid glory upon the scene.
Again the troops crowded the decks. The fleet was entering Hampton Roads.Upon the right, basking in the golden sunset as in the light of aneternal calm, a stupendous fortress lay, like some vast monster of oldtime, asleep. Frank shivered with strange sensations as he gazed uponthat immense and powerful stronghold of force; trying to realize that,dreaming so quietly there in the sunset, those gilded walls, which seemedthose of an ancient city of peace, meant horrible, deadly war.
"By hooky!" said Seth Tucket, coming to his side, "that old FortressMonroe's a stunner--ain't she? I'd no idee the old woman spread her hoopskirts over so much ground."
"You can see the big Union gun there on the beach," said Atwater. "Tolook at that, then just turn your eye over to Sewell's Point there, wherethe rebel batteries are, makes it seem like war." And the tall, gravesoldier smiled, with a light in his eye Frank had seldom seen before.
The evening was fine, the sky clear, the moon shining, the air balmy andspring-like. The fleet had come to anchor in the Roads. The bands wereplaying, and the troops cheering from deck to deck. The moonlightglittered on the water, and whitened the dim ships riding at anchor, andlay mistily upon the bastions of the great slumbering fortress. At a latehour, Frank, with his eyes full of beauty and his ears full of music,went below, crept into his berth, and thought of home, and of the greatworld he was beginning to see, until he fell asleep.
The next day the fleet still lay in Hampton Roads. There were belongingto the expedition over one hundred and twenty-five vessels of allclasses, freighted with troops, horses, forage, and all the paraphernaliaof war. And this was the last morning which was to behold thatmagnificent and powerful armada entire and unscattered.
At night the fleet sailed. Once at sea, the sealed orders, by which eachvessel was to shape its course, were opened, and Hatteras Inlet was foundto be its first destination.
The next day was Sunday, January 12. The morning was densely foggy.Frank, who had been seasick all night, went on deck to breathe the freshsea air. The steamer, still towing the Schooner, was just visible in thefog, at the other end of the great sagging hawser. And the sea wasrolling, rolling, rolling. And the ship was tossing, tossing, tossing.And Frank's poor stomach, not satisfied with its convulsive efforts toturn him wrong side out the night before, recommenced heaving, heaving,heaving. He clung to the rail of the schooner, and every time it wentdown, and every time it came up, he seemed to grow dizzier and sickerthan ever. He consoled himself by reflecting that he was only one ofhundreds on hoard, who were, or had been, in the same condition; and whenhe was sickest he could not help laughing at Seth Tucket's inexhaustibledrollery.
"Well, try again, ef ye want to," said that poetical private, addressinghis stomach. "Be mean, and stick to it. Keep heaving, and be darned!"
Stomach took him at his word, and for a few minutes he leaned heavily byFrank's side.
"There!" he said to it, triumphantly, "ye couldn't do any thing, and Itold ye so. Now I hope ye'll keep quiet a minute. Ye won't? Going at itagain? Very well; do as you please; it's none o' my business--bygosh!"--lifting up his head with a bitter grin; "that inside of me islike Milton's chaos, in Paradise Lost. 'Up from the bottom turned byraging wind and furious assault!'--Here it goes again!"
Frank had been scarcely less amused by the misery of Jack Winch, whodeclared repeatedly that he should die, that he wished he was dead, andso forth, with groanings unutterable.
But Frank kept up his courage, and after eating a piece of hard bread forbreakfast, began to feel better.
Towards noon the fog blew off, and the beach was visible on theright,--long, low, desolate, a shore of interminable sand, over which thebreakers leaped and ran like hordes of wild horses with streaming tailsand manes. Not a sign of vegetation was to be seen on that barren coast,nor any trace of human existence, save here a lonely house on the ridge,and yonder a dismantled wreck careened high upon the beach, or the ribsof some half-buried hulk protruding from the sand.
On the other side was an unbroken horizon of water. Numerous vessels ofthe fleet were still in sight And now a little steamer came dashing gaylyalong, hailed with cheers. It was the Picket, General Burnside'sflag-ship.
In the afternoon, more fog. But at sunset it was clear. The wind waslight, blowing from the south. But now the ocean rolled in long, enormousswells, showing that the vessels were approaching Cape Hatteras; for,whatever may be the aspect of the sea elsewhere, here its billows arenever at rest.
So the sun went down, and the night came on, with its cold moon andstars, and Hatteras lighthouse shot its arrowy ray far out across thedark water.
The breeze freshened and increased to a gale; and the violence of thewaves increased with it, until the schooner creaked and groaned in everypart, and it seemed as if she must break in pieces. Sometimes the billowsburst upon the deck with a thunder-crash, and, sweeping over it, pouredin cataracts from her sides. Now a heavy cross-sea struck her beams withthe jarring force of an avalanche of rocks, flinging more than oneunlucky fellow clear from his berth. And now her bows went under, sunk bya weight of rolling water, from which it seemed for an instant impossiblethat she could ever emerge. But rise she did, each time, slowly,laboring, quivering, and groaning, like a living thing in mortal agony.Once, as she plunged, the great cable that united her fortunes with thoseof the steamer, unable to bear the tremendous strain, snapped like a wetstring; and immediately she fell off helplessly before the gale.
The troops had a terrible night of it. Many were deathly sick. Two orthree broke their watches, besides getting badly bruised, by pitchingfrom their bunks. Frank would not have dared to go to sleep, even if hecould. Once, when the ship gave a lurch, and stopp
ed suddenly, strikingthe shoulder of a wave, he heard somebody tumble.
"Who's that?" he asked.
And the nasal sing-song of the poetical Tucket answered, "'Awaking with astart, the waters heave around me, and on high the winds lift up theirvoices; I depart, whither I know not; but the hour's gone by whenBoston's lessening shores can grieve or glad mine eye.'"
And Tucket crept back into his bunk.
"We're all going to the bottom, I'm sure," whined John Winch, from thetop berth, over Frank. "I believe we're sinking now."
"Well," said Frank, "the water will reach me first, and you'll be one ofthe last to go under; you've that for a satisfaction."
"I believe that's what he chose the top berth for," said Harris.
"How can you be joking, such a time as this?" said John. "Here's Atwater,fast asleep! Are you, Atwater?"
"No," said the soldier, who lay sick, with his thoughts far away.
"Ellis is; ain't you, Ellis?" And Jack reached to shake his comrade. "Howcan you be asleep, Ned, when we're all going to the bottom?"
"Let me alone!" growled Ned.
"We are going to the bottom," said Jack,--the ship just then rolling inthe trough of the sea.
"I can't help it if we are," replied Ellis, sick and stupefied; "and Idon't care much. Let me go to the bottom in peace."
"O Lord! O Lord! O Lord!" moaned Jack, in despair, feeling more likepraying than ever before in his life.
Tucket had a line of poetry to suit his case:--
"'And then some prayed--the first time in some years;'" he said, quotingByron. And he proceeded with a description of a shipwreck, which was notvery edifying to the unhappy Winch: "'Then rose from sea to sky the wildfarewell,'" etc.
"I never would have enlisted if I was such a coward as Jack," saidHarris, contemptuously.
"I ain't a coward," retorted Jack. "I enlisted to fight, not to go to seaand be drowned."
"Drownded--ded--ded--dead!" said Tucket.
"O, yes," said Harris, "you are mighty fierce for getting ashore andfighting. But when you were on land you were just as glad to get to sea.Now I hope you'll get enough of it. I wouldn't mind a shipwreck myself,just to hear you scream."
Then Tucket: "'At first one universal shriek there rushed, louder thanthe loud ocean,--like a crash of echoing thunder; and then all washushed, save the wild wind, and the remorseless dash of billows; but atintervals there gushed, accompanied with a convulsive splash, a solitaryshriek--the babbling cry of private Winch, in his last agony!'"
After this, conversation ceased for a time, and there was no noise but ofthe storm, and the groanings of the ship and of the sick.
Frank could not sleep, but, clinging to his berth, and listening to theshock of billows, thought of the other vessels of that brave fleet,scattered and tossed, and wondered at the awful power of the sea.
Then he remembered the story Corporal Gray had that day told them of thegreat Spanish Armada, which sailed in the days of Queen Elizabeth toinvade England, and was blown to its destruction by the storms of theAlmighty; and he questioned within himself whether this proud expeditionwas destined for a similar fate. Already he seemed to hear thelamentations of those at home, and the frantic rejoicings of the rebels.
The next morning the wind lulled; but the sea still ran high. The sunrose upon a scene of awful grandeur. The schooner was sailing under thefew rags of canvas which had withstood the gale. The steamer was nowherein sight; but other vessels of the shattered fleet could be seen, somenear, and some half below the horizon, far out at sea. The waves,white-capped, green-streaked, ceaselessly shifting, with dark bluehollows and high-curved crests all bursting into foam, came chasing eachother, and passed on like sliding liquid hills, spurning the schoonerfrom their slippery backs.
"'Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean! roll! ten thousand fleets sweepover thee in vain!'" observed Tucket, coming on deck with Frank, andgazing around at the few tossed remnants of the storm-scatteredexpedition.
Wild and terribly beautiful the scene was; and Frank, who had oftenwished to behold the ocean in its fury, was now sufficiently recoveredfrom his sickness to enjoy the opportunity. Nor was the wondering delightwith which he saw the sun rise out of the deep, and shine across thetumbling yeasty waves, at all diminished by the drolleries of his friendSeth, who kept at his side, saying the queerest things, and ever and anonshouting poetry to the running seas.
"'Though the strained mast should quiver as a reed, and the rent canvasfluttering strew the gale, still must I on; for I am as a weed flung fromthe rocks on Ocean's foam to sail, where'er secession breeds, ortreason's works prevail,'"--added Seth, altering the verse to suit theoccasion.
The fleet had indeed been rudely handled in that rough night off thecape. But now sail after sail hove in sight, all making their way as bestthey could towards the inlet. This some reached, and got safely in beforenight. Others, attempting to enter, got aground, and were with difficultygot off again. Some anchored outside, and some lay off and on, waitingfor morning, to be piloted past the shoals, and through the narrowchannel, to a safe anchorage inside.