University of Virginia Library

7. CHAPTER VII.
The Lover.

Every word that the spirited and humane
girl uttered was distinctly heard by
the young fisherman. He seized the
oars of his boat and was in a moment by
her side.

`May, you are mad! Do not think of
doing any thing to aid this vessel. Aside
from her being an enemy, who if saved
to-day, might destroy Bath to-morrow, it
is impossible for Tom to reach her in
time.'

`Do not say one word to dissuade me,
George,' she said earnestly. `There is
no time for words. The lives of five
hundred men or more, may hang upon
a moment. Once more, I ask, will you
try and reach the endangered ship and
pilot her in safely, when the storm bursts
upon her?'

`May, I can do nothing for my arm.'
He answered, wishing, if possible to throw
obstacles in the way of her wishes.

`You can take Tom with you. He
will row you on board. You need not
stand to the helm yourself when on board,
save to direct the seamen how to steer.
George, it would be a heavy crime
in you and I to leave that vessel to her
fate!'

`I do not know, dearest May, but that
it might be considered a crime in the eyes
of my country to save her!'

`I see you will do nothing! I see that
ou love me not, George, with all your
protestations. I did well to meet your
professions coldly. Pull strong and well,
brother; we must reach the frigate and
save her if we can! They are no longer
to be considered as our enemies,
whom Providence has cast upon our
mercy and love for the safety of their
lives! Good by, George, I hope that
your country will reward your inactivity;
and if the frigate be lost, crown you a
hero, as much as if you had destroyed
the ship in battle. Not another moment's
delay. The tempest is nearly upon us.
Bend to your oars, brother! Five hundred
lives depend upon your strong arms
and willing heart!'

`I'd do this for you, sister May; because
I love you; answered the dwarf;
`but I know you'll love me more if I'll
go by myself! Just get into George's
boat and I'll go alone; and I will be
honest, and pilot the ship in, because you
want to save it!'

May hesitated a moment. She well
knew the fickleness of her brother's disposition.
She feared to trust him.

`No, Tom,' she replied, shaking her
head, `I will go with you.'

`Dearest May!' cried George Hunnewell,
coming up after the flying skiff, and
holding by the gun-wale; `will nothing
alter your determination?'

`No, George. Release the boat!' she

cried with decision. `This is no time for
words!'

`May,' he said, drawing his boat up
along side and taking her by the hand;
`you shall not take my place in this enterprize.
I have told you my objections,
on the score of leaving a dangerous enemy
to his fate. I have pleaded my
wounded arm. I have pleaded the danger
to be incurred in trying to gain the
ship! But I see that you are resolute to
go. Believe me that my heart is humane;
and that, were that ship wrecked
I would risk a hundred lives did I have
them to save her crew from a watery
grave. But, I question very much
whether I ought to try and save them
from the wreck which will be their fate
unless they receive aid! You have accused
me but now, and said that I loved
you not; and that you did well to return
coldly my professions. I will go to the
frigate. I wish to show you that I love
you, even before my love for my country.
I waive every objection, every
opinion adverse to your own, and for
your sake will do what I can to save the
frigate. If I am lost before I reach her,
remember me with kindness, and forget
not that I lost my life in proving to you
my devoted attachment. If I live and
save the ship I cannot, do not hope that
my success will be rewarded by what
would compensate for every risk,—your
love.'

`George, if you save this ship,' answered
May with deep, earnest emotion,
`my hand is yours.'

`Then welcome the tempest and the
danger!' he cried springing into the skiff.
`From this moment, dearest May, I enter
into this with the same heartiness that
you do. For your sake I will save that
ship or perish with its crew!'

`I do not think of danger to you, dearest
George, for I know your skill and
courage. There is yet time to gain the
frigate. The flood-tide has gradually
lifted her landward, till she is now not
more than two or three miles off. Do not
be too venturous, for recollect that your
life is very dear to me.'

`Is it possible that I hear such words
from your lips?'

`Do not delay. Tom you will pull
George out to the frigate.'

`No; I will go alone.'

`Your arm!'

`I feel no weakness in it. The consciousness
that I am beloved makes me
a new man.'

`Tom shall go with you.'

`No, I won't,' answered the dwarf. `I
mean to stay by with May. Who'll she
have to row her home? No, no. Master
George can go if he likes alone. It's one
thing to pull for sister May, and another
to row Master George.'

`I shall go alone,' answered George
Hunnewell.

`No. There is Buttermilk calling to
you, George,' said May. `He will go
with you. You cannot row the boat
alone.'

`I had forgotten him. Good bye, dearest
May. Pull in shore, Tom, and land
there, and remain until the storm is over.
I will just row in and take 'Milk in, and
then be off.'

The two boats now turned back to the
landing, which was about a hundred
yards distant, and the young fisherman,
without a word of explanation to the negro,
ordered him to get into the boat and
pull him out to the frigate, while deeper
and louder rolled the answering thunder
over-head.

`It's a hard pull, massa George; but
you gib nigger half de money dey pays
you for pilotin'.'

`Whatever money is paid shall be
yours,' answered George. `I don't go
for money.' And as he said this he looked
into May's eyes, which returned a

kind glance that inspired him to the task
before him.

`You had best pilot her into our bay,
George,' said the maiden, as the negro
grasped the oars and her lover seated
himself at the helm after pressing her
hand in farewell, for he did not know he
should ever see her again, the duty he
ad entered upon being full of danger.

`Yes, I will do so, if I can. At any
rate, if I reach her, I will run her into
one of the bays near here. Remain here
with my mother.'

`No, I shall try and get back before the
gale commences, as I left the house
open; and all will be ruined if I am
away.'

`You had best not try to double the
headland, but land and cross the cliff and
so go on foot, May.'

`I will take the best and safest course,
George. Now, God bless you and make
you instrumental in saving the ship and
the lives of all.'

`For your sake I will do all man can
do,' he answered as he waved his hand
to her.

The next moment the sinewy armed
African was sending the little bark swiftly
over the bay in the direction of the
open ocean, where the ship lay motionless,
about two and a half miles distant.
May followed in George's boat, for he
had taken the skiff as faster and lighter,
giving Tom orders to keep close in with
the shore and row rapidly; for, near as
the storm seemed, she hoped to reach
the cove before it came upon her. It was
not without feelings of sadness—anxiety
that she watched her lover as he receded
from her eye in the direction of the frigate.
It seemed as if to embark at such
a moment, in so frail a bark, when a
mighty ship could not face the gathering
storm, were tempting fate. She could
not see him departing without emotion;
for, though she had treated George with
coyness and coldness, as if from a spirit
of maidenly waywardness, she was really
and sincerely attached to him; and
when she promised him her hand as the
reward of his efforts to save the ship, it
was no very painful sacrifice of herself.

But much as she loved him she felt
that she ought not to be so selfish as to
think of his danger, while by his daring
a whole ship's crew might escape a watery
grave. She felt that if she were not
willing to give him up for such an effort,
she was unworthy of a brave man's love.

Her heart swelled with emotion as she
gazed on the threatening heavens, lowering
and over-hanging the sea, as if ready
to fall with the weight of suspended waters.
She felt that if he did not reach
the ship before the wind began to plough
up the depth of the sea, he would perish.

`But rather let him, dear as he is to me,
rather let him perish in the effort to save
so many lives in jeopardy,' said the noble
girl with tears rushing to her eyes, `than
that they should perish without an effort
being made to save them. If he had not
gone, I would have gone! Keep farther
out or you will hardly pass that rock,
brother,' she said to the dwarf, as they
glided swiftly along the shore. Upon the
cliff far behind them stood the tall, wildlooking
figure of Dame Hunnewell, calling
now after May, in fierce threatenings
for sending her son away by her charms
to meet certain death; and now shrieking
his name, and with extended arms, calling
upon him to return.'

He heeded not her cry, his spirit nerved
to the task before him by his love for
May. The maiden, as she followed him,
with her moist eyes, felt that it was for
her love he was venturing thus, and he
rose in her esteem for his courage and
devotion.

`The boy is mad as a crazed ell-wive,'
cried his mother, mounting the rocks till
she came and stood where the old man,

her uncle, was seated, calmly mending
his nets; using his fingers for eyes. His
quiet and repose of countenance and manner
contrasted remarkably with the excitement
of the woman's manner. He
could not see the foreboding blackness
of the heavens, or hear distinctly the
muttering thunder and the deep-mouthed
cannon.

`What is the matter?' he asked petulantly.

`Matter, John? That girl May Fawn
has been here again, and bewitched the
boy. He is as mad as he can be. She
has charmed him. He would try to walk
on the sea if she bade him.'

This was shricked into his dull ear, in
a key shrill and loud, like the scream of
an eagle.

`What has she done?'

`Done? She has sent the foolish boy
out in a skiff to try and reach the British
frigate that is in the offin'; and as it's
dead calm and a dreadful storm comin'
she'll go to Davy Jones's without she
get's a pilot; and she has been firin' for
one this hour.'

`Yes, I've heard the guns. An Englisher,
you say? How near Cape Small
Point is she?'

`About two miles this side, and inside
of it; and the storm is coming from the
southward right smack down upon her.'

`Then she's on the reef of bald rock
afore midnight. Has any o' the fishermen
gone out to help her?'

`Didn't I just say that Northrop's girl,
the young witch as she is, has been here,
and made George go out to the frigate.
He wouldn't have gone if he could have
helped it: but she fascinated him like,
and so he went.'

`They'll pay him handsomely for it, if
he pilots the ship in.'

`Handsome? I don't want money for
my boy's life. He never'll reach the frigate
in this world. There he goes, poor
boy, and Ben to row him, right out into
the open sea. He's a mile away now, and
the devil was never so ugly as the sky and
sea looks; though the sea is as still as
death.'

`The boy will get gold, if he gets there
The English are rich,' answered the ava
ricious old fisherman. `I would ha' done
the same in my young days. We risked
our lives every time we put to sea, woman,
for money. Let the boy go, so
that he gets well-paid for it.'

`But it is an enemy's ship.'

`Gold is gold if it be an enemy's. I
say let the boy go.'

`I'll take the life of the girl if harm
comes to him,' answered the old woman
clenching her fists, and exulting in this
contemplated vengeance, if her son should
be lost.

`Stand here and tell me how things
go?' said the old man. `What has become
of the girl.'

`There she is in George's boat (for he
has got her's) and that dwarf of a brother
of her's, hugging the scathed pine
head, and trying to double it before the
storm reaches them. I pray that they
may be sunk. But she'll get home safe,
for all my prayers; for she has a charmed
life. She is in league with evil spirits
and charmers; and that is the way she
has bewitched the boy. That was lightning.
It seemed to hiss in the sea, Hark!
the very rocks tremble at the awful thunder!'