University of Virginia Library

6. CHAPTER VI.
The Dwarf and his Sister.

The young man stood admiring the
ocean with its dark pall of clouds, the
frigate reposing upon its bosom reflecting
the light from the east, which
was becoming fiercely red, and listening
with something like awe to the heavy
discharges of the artillery as they were
borne over the waveless sea, and to the
answering thunder in the west, which
now began to mutter with terrific fore-boding.
The bosom of the dark-cloud
was momently riven by arrowy shafts of
lightning that shot athwart the murky
vault, or rendered dazzling by chains of
fire extending from the zenith to the sea
beneath.

`We shall have the storm bursting
upon us in all its fury ere long, 'milk,'
said George Hunnewell, as he turned
from the spot to hasten along the edge
of the dizzy cliff towards his abode.

`You see dat skiff down dere, massa
Jorge!' asked the negro, as he paused
on a shelf of the rock to wipe from his
shining forehead the drops of oily sweat
that oozed from the pores of his skin,
and to take breath; for Mr. Buttermilk
was not much of a walker.

`Yes,' said the young man, `I see it
now! It contains a female, certainly!'

`Yes, dat am plain to be seen widout
a spy-glass, massa Jorge. And don't
you know who dat am rowin'? It de
dwarf Tom!'

`You are right, and that must be
May!' he cried, with joyful surprise.
`What can bring her here to see—no
ot to see me! She wouldn't take that
trouble. She would sooner go from
me. I hope she comes with no ill news
of her father.`

`Dere be no news ob old Northrop
but what 'll ebber be ill,' answered the
negro. `Come, massa Jorge, whar you
runnin' so fast! You break you neck
down dem rock, and den you' arm nebber
get well, sure! I nebber can run
dat way! Its nuff for dis nigger to walk.
Legs is good for nothin' in dis here
blessed world but to go up rattlins wid,
and hold on to foot ropes aloft wid. I
nebber seed any oder use for em since I
was born'd ob my fader and moder.
Dey ony makes a man tired as walks on
em ashore, and sweats him like a fried
porpus. I wish massa Jorge arm get
well so we go fishin' agen in de smack,
coz I nebber live if I don't die runnin'
about on de shore. Dere, he out ob
sight like a herrin' divin' under a haddock's
belly.'

The old negro, who had lived on the
salt-sea all his days, and had grown lazy
and fat on idleness and good humor of
late years, now followed at a slow and
laborious gait his younger companion,
for George was the companion not `master'
of Buttermilk.

Our hero had recognized the graceful
form of May Fawn in the skiff and
bounded away to meet her at the landing.
As he went he wondered at her coming;
for a few days before he had been coldly
received by her, when he told her
with all the warmth of manly devotedness
that he loved her better than life

and hoped that she would promise one
day to become his wife.

As he descended the path, he passed
the upper of the two cabins, in the door
of which sat an old blind fisherman with
a head as white as snow, busy at work
mending his nets.

`Ho, who is it?' he inquired, as
George came down the path rattling the
stones into the water beneath.

`It is me,—George:' answered the
young man, without stopping.

`You, is it? You have cured your
arm in a hurry, youngster! Not two
hours ago you went past up the cliff
creeping along like a sick crab, and
Buttermilk after you like a snail with
his shell on his back. What is that I
hear—thunder or cannon?'

`Both, uncle,' answered the young
man, as he went on.

He now came to the door of the hut
below, which was his own. It stood on
a shelf of the rock, with hardly room
about it to spread a net to the sun.—
It was twenty feet from the landing
where the boats were secured, and communicated
with it by a rude stair way of
loose rocks. Here he paused behind the
angle of the house to recover breath and
to collect his thoughts while he watched,
unseen, the scene just below him.

There was the skiff stopping within
five rods of the landing, and in it was
standing the beautiful girl who made
him the most miserably unhappy person
in the world, yet whom he would have
died to do a service.

She was talking with the old woman,
who was seated on the spar below the
hut; and who, having dropped the end
of the sail she had been patching, was
gesticulating, and loudly talking to her,
while in her right hand she brandished an
old harpoon.

`I tell you, you old hell-wizzard of a
wdarf, if you pull another stroke nearer,
I'll send this ere harpoon straight through
your crooked back. I'd just as leef do
it as drive it into a porpoise.'

`Say the word, May, and I'll row
right in and take the old witch, and fling
her into the sea,' cried Tom, whose rage
was aroused by her epithets and menaces.
`Jist say I may, sis.'

`No, no, Tom. I fear she would do
as she says,' answered the young girl
firmly. `Mild measures are the best.
Ma'm Hunnewell, I do not wish to land
if you will let me say a word to George.'

`Yes, George,' she shrieked with fury,
`I'll wager it's George you're after.
You have so bewitched and bebothered
him so that he don't know a shad from a
pollock, or me from the devil.'

`That's a true word, May. Let me
tell her aloud she is the devil's dam.'

`Hist, Tom,' said May, `we must not
anger her, if possible to prevent it. Keep
quiet, and do only as I bid you. `Good
Marm Hunnewell, if you will tell George
I wish to speak with him a moment, I
will make you a present of the old gray
and white cat you once said you would
like to have.'

`Will ye now?' cried the old hag, her
face all at once lighted up with hideous
delight. `Then if ye'll bring me the cat
afore to-morrow morning ye shall speak
with George. But he aint to home now.
He's gone out to shoot snipe; for they
say snipe's meat is good for broken bones.
He has been a sort o' going backward
the last week. He'd been better, it's my
opinion, if he kept away from Northrop's
bay. So you'll give me the old cat, will
ye,' she screamed in a high key.

`Yes, as soon as Tom can go and return
with it.'

`That's a darter!' she answered, rising
and looking up the cliff, as if in search of
her son.

At this moment George made his appearance
almost by her side before he
was discovered.

`May, how glad I am to see you!' he
cried with animation lighting up his fine
face. `I never expected to see you come
here voluntarily. Something I fear has
happened. No ill news from your father,
I hope?'

`No, no; old Northrop will never
come to any other end than a rope's end;'
growled his mother. `He that's born to
be hanged will never be drowned. Keep
a straight path before your own face and
eyes, Miss May, or you may be no better
than your forefathers. What's bred in
the bone will show itself in the flesh.'

`George,' said the young girl, in a low
tone, as the youth descended close to the
water-side, `get into the boat there, and
paddle out to me. I wish to speak with
you.'

`Speak it out and never fear, girl,'
cried the old beldame. `No charming
with your snake-whisperings, my boy.
He has had enough o' that. He hasn't
the soul of a spider left in him since you
have been practicing your charms upon
him, poor boy. Stay where you are,
George.'

The young mand did not heed her, but
springing into a whale-boat that was fastened
to the rock, he cast off the painter,
and shot the boat by a strong push out to
where her skiff lay, about thirty feet from
the shore. As he came along side she
extended her hand in a frank, friendly
way to him. He grasped it with emotion
and joy, colouring to the temples
with pleased surprise at this reception.

`How good and kind you are, May,'
he said, with a delighted look.

`I have come to see you, George, to
ask you to do me a favor, or rather—not
me but—'

Say it is for you, dearest May, that I
may have the happiness of doing something
for you to show my—my—love for
you.'

`Perhaps you will deny that the favor
is for me, but rather for humauity, when
you shall know what I have to ask of you.'

`No matter what it is you wish, I will
do it for you, May.

`Do you see this storm that is over-hanging
land and occan, and gathering
its power to a head?' she cried pointing
to the gloomy heavens, and sullen and
motionless sea.

`Yes: and I am glad that you have
reached here as you have done. It was
rash in you to have set out at such a time,
dear May.

`I have came on an errand of mercy!
You behold the tempest advancing like
an armed host, and you know the tremendous
power of storms such as this
promises to be on this coast. Tell me
can any vessel live in it, that is caught
near the land?'

`No, unless they sought shelter in one
of the harbours.'

`Do you see yonder stately ship of
war hanging mid-way as it were between
heaven and ocean, as if a foot-ball for
them to sport with and crush when they
shall ere long meet in their fury?'

`I have been watching it from the
cliff, May. I have heard the firing from
her for some time.'

`And do you know why they are
making these signals?' she asked earnestly,
looking her lover full in the eyes.

`Yes, for a pilot to come off to them!'

`Then you think they will need a
pilot!'

`Need one! If they have none, they
are sure to be driven upon the land!'

`And can you speak of and contemplate
such an appalling catastrophe,
George Hunnewell, and not feel a desire
to prevent it! Can you look on with indifference
when it is in your power to
save her from the fate which inevitably
awaits her. The signals can be for no
other purpose than to call for the aid of
some fishermen to pilot them into some

harbour as soon as the storm sets them in
motion. To my ears it has all the pathos
of a human voice. I cannot hear it unmoved.
Hark! how its deep voice
thunders among the cliffs. Its cry is,

`Aid us! Send us help! or we are
ost!'

`I have felt for them, May! I have
not listened with indifference; but do
you know that that ship is an enemy! I
could distinctly see that the flag of England
waved over her stern!'

`And are not Englishmen fellow-beings.
Would you quietly see that ship
go to pieces and hurl into the engulphing
surges five hundred souls!'

`They are our foes, May. That ship
has been armed, manned, and fitted out
in England, to war against our land, burn
our cities, and lay waste our coasts. If a
ship of my own country meets her, she
will seek to destroy her with powder and
ball; and if she plunges down ints the
depths of the ocean, with every living
being on board, it would be a matter of
rejoicing in the land; and the conqueror
would be proclaimed with the trumpet of
fame as a hero. Now, here the ship is
exposed to peril by being becalmed in this
side of Cape Small Point. It is certain
that, without a pilot, she will be lost on the
reefs; for it will be impossible, after the
wind strikes her, for her to gain an
offing. This she is sensible of, for hear
how constantly her guns are booming for
assistance. Now, painful as it would be
to me to see this vessel wrecked, I feel
that, as an American, I cannot wish any
one to go to her aid, and I sincerely trust
that no fisherman, in the hope of a large
reward, will be so lost to his patriotism as
to answer her signals and go to her relief.'

`Is this your serious opinion, George
Hunnewell?' said May, her face as pale
as marble, and her lips trembling with
emotion.

`Yes, May.'

`Then has my errand hither been
fruitless,' she answered, with deep depression
in her sad, beautiful face.

`Come, brother Tom, we may go
again. Farewell, George! The time
is too precious for me to linger, when
humanity calls for my aid.'

`May! What? Where do you go?
Do not leave me thus,' he cried, seeing
her skiff receding rapidly from that in
which he stood. `Where are you going?
You cannot reach home at this
time. The storm will be upon us in a
few minutes.'

`I can reach the frigate!' she exclaimed
promptly.

`Reach the frigate! Are you mad?
You will be lost!' he cried with wild
alarm.

`I shall perish in a noble cause,' was
her noble response. `Tom you must
row me to the frigate,' she said with decision.

`Do you mean to pilot her, May?' he
asked with hesitation as he stopped rowing
after having pulled about two boats'
lengths from the skiff in which George
was standing.

`No. But you must pilot her into Northrop
Bay, brother. I shall stand by the
wheel with you to see you do your duty
faithfully. The frigate shall not be lost
while there is safety at hand.'