 | CHAPTER XIV. The water-witch, or, The skimmer of the seas |  |
14. CHAPTER XIV.
Yet, when I saw it last, it was besmear'd
As black as Vulcan, in the smoke of war.”
What you will.
From the moment when the Coquette fired her
first gun, to the moment when the retiring boats became
invisible, was just twenty minutes. Of this
time, less than half had been occupied by the incidents
related, in the ship. Short as it was in truth,
it seemed to all engaged but an instant. The alarm
was over, the sound of the oars had ceased, and still
the survivors stood at their posts, as if expecting the
attack to be renewed. Then came those personal
thoughts, which had been suspended in the fearful
exigency of such a struggle. The wounded began
to feel their pain, and to be sensible of the danger
of their injuries; while the few, who had escaped
unhurt, turned a friendly care on their shipmates.
Ludlow, as often happens with the bravest and most
exposed, had escaped without a scratch; but he saw
by the drooping forms around him, which were no
his triumph was dearly purchased.
“Send Mr. Trysail to me;” he said, in a tone that
had little of a victor's exultation. “The land breeze
has made, and we will endeavor to improve it, and
get inside the cape, lest the morning light give us
more of these Frenchmen.”
The order for `Mr. Trysail!' `the captain calls
the master!' passed in a low call from mouth to
mouth, but it was unanswered. A seaman told the
expecting young commander, that the surgeon desired
his presence forward. A gleaming of lights and
a little group at the foot of the foremast, was a beacon
not to be mistaken. The weatherbeaten master
was in the agony; and his medical attendant had just
risen from a fruitless examination of his wounds, as
Ludlow approached.
“I hope the hurt is not serious?” hurriedly whispered
the alarmed young sailor to the surgeon, who
was coolly collecting his implements, in order to administer
to some more promising subject. “Neglect
nothing that your art can suggest.”
“The case is desperate, Captain Ludlow,” returned
the phlegmatic surgeon; “but if you have a taste
for such things, there is as beautiful a case for amputation
promised in the fore-topman whom I have
had sent below, as offers once in a whole life of active
practice!”
“Go, go—” interrupted Ludlow, half pushing the
unmoved man of blood away, as he spoke; “go, then,
where your services are needed.”
The other cast a glance around him, reproved his
attendant, in a sharp tone, for unnecessarily exposing
the blade of some ferocious-looking instrument to the
dew, and departed.
“Would to God, that some portion of these injuries
had befallen those who are younger and
stronger!” murmured the captain, as he leaned over
mind, my old and worthy shipmate?”
“I have had my misgivings, since we have dealt
with witchcraft!” returned Trysail, whose voice the
rattling of the throat had already nearly silenced.
“I have had misgivings—but no matter. Take care
of the ship—I have been thinking of our people—
you'll have to cut—they can never lift the anchor—
the wind is here at north.”
“All this is ordered. Trouble thyself no further
about the vessel; she shall be taken care of, I promise
you.—Speak of thy wife, and of thy wishes in England.”
“God bless Mrs. Trysail! She'll get a pension, and
I hope contentment! You must give the reef a good,
berth, in rounding Montauk—and you'll naturally
wish to find the anchors again, when the coast is
clear—if you can find it in your conscience, say a
good word of poor old Ben Trysail, in the dispatches—”
The voice of the master sunk to a whisper, and
became inaudible. Ludlow thought he strove to
speak again, and he bent his ear to his mouth.
“I say—the weather-main-swifter and both back-stays
are gone; look to the spars, for—for—there are
sometimes—heavy puffs at night—in the Americas!”
The last heavy respiration succeeded, after which
came the long silence of death. The body was removed
to the poop, and Ludlow, with a saddened
heart, turned to duties that this accident rendered
still more imperative.
Notwithstanding the heavy loss, and the originally
weakened state of her crew, the sails of the Coquette
were soon spread, and the ship moved away in silence,
as if sorrowing for those who had fallen at her anchorage.
When the vessel was fairly in motion, her
captain ascended to the poop, in order to command
a clearer view of all around him, as well as to profit
He found he had been anticipated by the free-trader.
“I owe my ship—I may say my life, since in such
a conflict they would have gone together, to thy
succor!” said the young commander, as he approached
the motionless form of the smuggler. “Without
it, Queen Anne would have lost a cruiser, and the
flag of England a portion of its well-earned glory.”
“May thy royal mistress prove as ready to remember
her friends, in emergencies, as mine. In good
truth, there was little time to lose, and trust, me, we
well understood the extremity. If we were trady,
it was because whale-boats were to be brought from
a distance; for the land lies between my brigantine
and the sea.”
“He who came so opportunely, and acted so well,
needs no apology.”
“Captain Ludlow, are we friends?”
“It cannot be otherwise. All minor considerations
must be lost in such a service. If it is your intention
to push this illegal trade further, on the coast,
I must seek another station.”
“Not so.—Remain, and do credit to your flag, and
the land of your birth. I have long thought that
this is the last time the keel of the Water-Witch
will ever plow the American seas. Before I quit
you, I would have an interview with the merchant.
A worse man might have fallen, and just now even a
better man might be spared. I hope no harm has
come to him?”
“He has shown the steadiness of his Holland lineage,
to-day. During the boarding, he was useful and
cool.”
“It is well. Let the Alderman be summoned to
the deck, for my time is limited, and I have much to
say—”
The Skimmer paused, for at that moment a fierce
light glared upon the ocean, the ship, and all in it.
both recoiled, as men recede before an unexpected
and fearful attack. But a bright and wavering light,
which rose out of the forward hatch of the vessel,
explained all. At the same moment, the deep stillness
which, since the bustle of making sail had ceased,
pervaded the ship, was broken by the appalling cry
of “Fire!”
The alarm which brings the blood in the swiftest
current to a seaman's heart, was now heard in the
depths of the vessel. The smothered sounds below,
the advancing uproar, and the rush on deck, with the
awful summons in the open air, succeeded each other
with the rapidity of lightning. A dozen voices repeated
the word `the grenade!' proclaiming in a
breath both the danger and the cause. But an instant
before, the swelling canvas, the dusky spars,
and the faint lines of the cordage, were only to be
traced by the glimmering light of the stars; and now
the whole hamper of the ship was the more conspicuous,
from the obscure back-ground against which it
was drawn in distinct lines. The sight was fearfully
beautiful;—beautiful, for it showed the symmetry
and fine outlines of the vessel's rig, resembling the
effect of a group of statuary seen by torch-light,—
and fearful, since the dark void beyond seemed to declare
their isolated and helpless state.
There was one breathless, eloquent moment, in
which all were seen gazing at the grand spectacle in
mute awe,—and then a voice rose, clear, distinct,
and commanding, above the sullen sound of the torrent
of fire, which was roaring among the avenues
of the ship.
“Call all hands to extinguish fire! Gentlemen, to
your stations. Be cool, men; and be silent!”
There was a calmness and an authority in the
tones of the young commander, that curbed the impetuous
feelings of the startled crew. Accustomed
out of his trance, and eagerly commenced the discharge
of his allotted duty. At that instant, an erect
and unmoved form stood on the combings of the main-hatch.
A hand was raised in the air, and the call,
which came from the deep chest, was like that of
one used to speak in the tempest.
“Where are my brigantines?” it said—“Come
away there, my sea-dogs; wet the light sails, and
follow!”
A group of grave and submissive mariners gathered
about the `Skimmer of the Seas,' at the sound
of his voice. Glancing an eye over them, as if to
scan their quality and number, he smiled, with a look
in which high daring and practised self-command
was blended with a constitutional gaîté de cœur.
“One deck, or two!”—he added; “what avails a
plank, more or less, in an explosion?—Follow!”
The free-trader and his people disappeared in the
interior of the ship. An interval of great and resolute
exertion succeeded. Blankets, sails, and every
thing which offered, and which promised to be of
use, were wetted and cast upon the flames. The
engine was brought to bear, and the ship was deluged
with water. But the confined space, with the heat
and smoke, rendered it impossible to penetrate to
those parts of the vessel where the conflagration
raged. The ardor of the men abated as hope lessened,
and after half an hour of fruitless exertion, Ludlow
saw, with pain, that his assistants began to yield to
the inextinguishable principle of nature. The appearance
of the Skimmer on deck, followed by all
his people, destroyed hope, and every effort ceased
as suddenly as it had commenced.
“Think of your wounded;” whispered the free-trader,
with a steadiness no danger could disturb.
“We stand on a raging volcano!”
“I have ordered the gunner to drown the magazine.”
“He was too late. The hold of the ship is a fiery
furnace. I heard him fall among the store-rooms,
and it surpassed the power of man to give the wretch
succor. The grenade has fallen near some combustibles,
and, painful as it is to part with a ship so loved,
Ludlow, thou wilt meet the loss like a man! Think
of thy wounded; my boats are still hanging at the
stern.”
Ludlow reluctantly, but firmly, gave the order to
bear the wounded to the boats. This was an arduous
and delicate duty. The smallest boy in the ship
knew the whole extent of the danger, and that a
moment, by the explosion of the powder, might precipitate
them all into eternity. The deck forward
was getting too hot to be endured, and there were
places even in which the beams had given symptoms
of yielding.
But the poop, elevated still above the fire, offered
a momentary refuge. Thither all retired, while the
weak and wounded were lowered, with the caution
circumstances would permit, into the whale-boats of
the smugglers.
Ludlow stood at one ladder and the free-trader at
the other, in order to be certain that none proved
recreant in so trying a moment. Near them were
Alida, Seadrift, and the Alderman, with the attendants
of the former.
It seemed an age, before this humane and tender
duty was performed. At length the cry of “all in!”
was uttered, in a manner to betray the extent of
the self-command that had been necessary to effect it.
“Now, Alida, we may think of thee!” said Ludlow,
turning to the spot occupied by the silent heiress.
“And you!” she said, hesitating to move.
“Duty demands that I should be the last—
A sharp explosion beneath, and fragments of fire
words. Plunges into the sea, and a rush of the people
to the boats, followed. All order and authority were
completely lost, in the instinct of life. In vain did
Ludlow call on his men to be cool, and to wait for
those who were still above. His words were lost, in
the uproar of clamorous voices. For a moment, it
seemed, however, as if the Skimmer of the Seas would
overcome the confusion. Throwing himself on a
ladder, he glided into the bows of one of the boats,
and, holding by the ropes with a vigorous arm, he
resisted the efforts of all the oars and boat-hooks,
while he denounced destruction on him who dared to
quit the ship. Had not the two crews been mingled,
the high authority and determined mien of the free-trader
would have prevailed; but while some were
disposed to obey, others raised the cry of “throw the
dealer in witchcraft into the sea!”—Boat-hooks were
already pointed at his breast, and the horrors of the
fearful moment were about to be increased by the
violence of a mutinous contention, when a second explosion
nerved the arms of the rowers to madness.
With a common and desperate effort, they overcame
all resistance. Swinging off upon the ladder, the
furious seaman saw the boat glide from his grasp,
and depart. The execration that was uttered, beneath
the stern of the Coquette, was deep and powerful;
but, in another moment, the Skimmer stood
on the poop, calm and undejected, in the centre of
the deserted group.
“The explosion of a few of the officers' pistols has
frightened the miscreants;” he said, cheerfully.
“But hope is not yet lost!—they linger in the distance,
and may return!”
The sight of the helpless party on the poop, and
the consciousness of being less exposed themselves,
had indeed arrested the progress of the fugitives.
Still, selfishness predominated; and while most regretted
midshipmen, who were neither of an age nor
of a rank to wield sufficient authority, proposed to
return. There was little argument necessary to
show that the perils increased at each moment; and,
finding that no other expedient remained, the gallant
youths encouraged the men to pull towards the land;
intending themselves to return instantly to the assistance
of their commander and his friends. The
oars dashed into the water again, and the retiring
boats were soon lost to view in the body of darkness.
While the fire had been raging within, another
element, without, had aided to lessen hope for those
who were abandoned. The wind from the land had
continued to rise, and, during the time lost in useless
exertion, the ship had been permitted to run nearly
before it. When hope was gone, the helm had been
deserted, and as all the lower sails had been hauled
up to avoid the flames, the vessel had drifted, many
minutes, nearly dead to leeward. The mistaken
youths, who had not attended to these circumstances,
were already miles from that beach they hoped to
reach so soon; and ere the boats had separated from
the ship five minutes, they were hopelessly asunder.
Ludlow had early thought of the expedient of stranding
the vessel, as the means of saving her people;
but his better knowledge of their position, soon showed
him the utter futility of the attempt.
Of the progress of the flames beneath, the mariners
could only judge by circumstances. The Skimmer
glanced his eye about him, on regaining the
poop, and appeared to scan the amount and quality
of the physical force that was still at their disposal.
He saw that the Alderman, the faithful François,
and two of his own seamen, with four of the petty
officers of the ship, remained. The six latter, even
in that moment of desperation, had calmly refused to
desert their officers.
“The flames are in the state-rooms!” he whispered
to Ludlow.
“Not further aft, I think, than the berths of the
midshipmen—else we should hear more pistols.”
“True—they are fearful signals to let us know
the progress of the fire!—our resource is a raft.”
Ludlow looked as if he despaired of the means;
but, concealing the discouraging fear, he answered
cheerfully in the affirmative. The orders were instantly
given, and all on board gave themselves to
the task, heart and hand. The danger was one that
admitted of no ordinary or half-conceived expedients;
but, in such an emergency, it required all the
readiness of their art, and even the greatness of that
conception which is the property of genius. All distinctions
of rank and authority had ceased, except
as deference was paid to natural qualities and the
intelligence of experience. Under such circumstances,
the `Skimmer of the Seas' took the lead;
and though Ludlow caught his ideas with professional
quickness, it was the mind of the free-trader that
controlled, throughout, the succeeding exertions of
that fearful night.
The cheek of Alida was blanched to a deadly
paleness; but there rested about the bright and wild
eyes of Seadrift, an expression of supernatural resolution.
When the crew abandoned the hope of extinguishing
the flames, they had closed all the hatches,
to retard the crisis as much as possible. Here and
there, however, little torch-like lights were beginning
to show themselves through the planks, and the whole
deck, forward of the main-mast, was already in a
critical and sinking state. One or two of the beams
had failed, but, as yet, the form of the construction
was preserved. Still the seamen distrusted the
treacherous footing, and, had the heat permitted the
experiment, they would have shrunk from a risk
them to the fiery furnace beneath.
The smoke ceased, and a clear, powerful light
illuminated the ship to her trucks. In consequence
of the care and exertions of her people, the sails
and masts were yet untouched; and as the graceful
canvas swelled with the breeze, it still urged the
blazing hull through the water.
The forms of the Skimmer and his assistants were
visible, in the midst of the gallant gear, perched on
the giddy yards. Seen by that light, with his peculiar
attire, his firm and certain step, and his resolute
air, the free-trader resembled some fancied sea-god,
who, secure in his immortal immunities, had come to
act his part in that awful but exciting trial of hardihood
and skill. Seconded by the common men, he
was employed in cutting the canvas from the yards.
Sail after sail fell upon the deck, and, in an incredibly
short space of time, the whole of the fore-mast
was naked to its spars and rigging.
In the mean time, Ludlow, assisted by the Alderman
and François, had not been idle below. Passing
forward between the empty ridge-ropes, lanyard after
lanyard parted under the blows of their little boarding-axes.
The mast now depended on the strength
of the wood and the support of a single back-stay.
“Lay down!” shouted Ludlow. “All is gone aft,
but this stay!”
The Skimmer leaped upon the firm rope, followed
by all aloft, and, gliding downwards, he was instantly
in the hammock-cloths. A crash followed their descent,
and an explosion, which caused the whole of
the burning fabric to tremble to its centre, seemed
to announce the end of all. Even the free-trader
recoiled before the horrible din; but when he stood
near Seadrift and the heiress again, there was cheerfulness
in his tones, and a look of high, and even of
gay resolution, in his firm countenance.
“The deck has failed forwards,” he said, “and our
artillery is beginning to utter fearful signal-guns! Be
of cheer!—the magazine of a ship lies deep, and
many sheathed bulk-heads still protect us.”
Another discharge from a heated gun, however,
proclaimed the rapid progress of the flames. The
fire broke out of the interior anew, and the fore-mast
kindled.
“There must be an end of this!” said Alida,
clasping her hands in a terror that could not be controlled.
“Save yourselves, if possible, you who have
strength and courage, and leave us to the mercy of
him whose eye is over all!”
“Go;” added Seadrift, whose sex could no longer
be concealed. “Human courage can do no more:
leave us to die!”
The looks, that were returned to these sad requests,
were melancholy but unmoved. The Skimmer
caught a rope, and still holding it in his hand,
he descended to the quarter-deck, on which he at
first trusted his weight with jealous caution. Then
looking up, he smiled encouragingly, and said,—
“Where a gun still stands, there is no danger for the
weight of a man!”
“It is our only resource;” cried Ludlow, imitating
his example. “On, my men, while the beams will
still hold us.”
In a moment, all were on the quarter-deck, though
the excessive heat rendered it impossible to remain
stationary an instant. A gun on each side was run
in, its tackles loosened, and its muzzle pointed towards
the tottering, unsupported, but still upright
foremast.
“Aim at the cleets!” said Ludlow to the Skimmer,
who pointed one gun, while he did the same office at
the other.
“Hold!” cried the latter “Throw in shot—it is
magazine!”
Additional balls were introduced into each piece,
and then, with steady hands, the gallant mariners
applied burning brands to the priming. The discharges
were simultaneous, and, for an instant, volumes
of smoke rolled along the deck and seemed to
triumph over the conflagration. The rending of
wood was audible. It was followed by a sweeping
noise in the air, and the fall of the fore-mast, with
all its burden of spars, into the sea. The motion of
the ship was instantly arrested, and, as the heavy
timbers were still attached to the bowsprit by the
forward stays, her head came to the wind, when
the remaining topsails flapped, shivered, and took
aback.
The vessel was now, for the first time during the
fire, stationary. The common mariners profited by
the circumstance, and, darting past the mounting
flame along the bulwarks, they gained the top-gallant-forecastle,
which though heated was yet untouched.
The Skimmer glanced an eye about him,
and seizing Seadrift by the waist, as if the mimic
seaman had been a child, he pushed forward between
the ridge-ropes. Ludlow followed with Alida, and
the others intimated their example in the best manner
they could. All reached the head of the ship in
safety; though Ludlow had been driven by the
flames into the fore-channels, and thence nearly into
the sea.
The petty officers were already on the floating
spars, separating them from each other, cutting away
the unnecessary weight of rigging, bringing the
several parts of the wood in parallel lines, and lashing
them anew. Ever and anon, these rapid movements
were quickened by one of those fearful signals
from the officers' berths, which, by announcing the
progress of the flames beneath, betrayed their increasing
The boats had been gone an hour, and yet it seemed,
to all in the ship, but a minute. The conflagration
had, for the last ten minutes, advanced with renewed
fury; and the whole of the confined flame, which
had been so long pent in the depths of the vessel,
now glared high in the open air.
“This heat can no longer be borne,” said Ludlow;
“we must to our raft, for breath.”
“To the raft then!” returned the cheerful voice
of the free-trader. “Haul in upon your fasts, men,
and stand by to receive the precious freight.”
The seamen obeyed. Alida and her companions
were lowered safely to the place prepared for their
reception. The fore-mast had gone over the side, with
all its spars aloft; for preparation had been made,
before the fire commenced, to carry sail to the utmost,
in order to escape the enemy. The skilful and
active seamen, directed and aided by Ludlow and
the Skimmer, had made a simple but happy disposition
of those boyant materials on which their all
now depended. In settling in the water, the yards,
still crossed, had happily fallen uppermost. The
booms and all the light spars had been floated near
the top, and laid across, reaching from the lower to
the topsail-yard. A few light spars, stowed outboard,
had been cut away and added to the number, and
the whole were secured with the readiness and ingenuity
of seamen. On the first alarm of fire, some
of the crew had seized a few light articles that
would float, and rushed to the head, as the place
most remote from the magazine, in the blind hope
of saving life by swimming. Most of these articles
had been deserted, when the people were rallied to
exertion by their officers. A couple of empty shot-boxes
and a mess-chest were among them, and on
the latter were seated the females, while the former
served to keep their feet from the water. As the
entirely beneath the element, and the ship was so
small as to need little artificial work in her masting,
the part around the top, which contained the staging,
was scarcely submerged. Although a ton in weight
was added to the inherent gravity of the wood, still,
as the latter was of the lightest description, and
freed as much as possible of every thing that was
unnecessary to the safety of those it supported, the
spars floated sufficiently buoyant for the temporary
security of the fugitives.
“Cut the fast!” said Ludlow, involuntarily starting
at several explosions in the interior, which followed
each other in quick succession, and which
were succeeded by one which sent fragments of burning
wood into the air. “Cut, and bear the raft off the
ship!—God knows, we have need to be further
asunder!”
“Cut not!” cried the half-frantic Seadrift—“My
brave!—my devoted!—”
“Is safe;—” calmly said the Skimmer, appearing
in the rattlings of the main-rigging, which was still
untouched by the fire—“Cut off all! I stay to brace
the mizen-topsail more firmly aback.”
The duty was done, and for a moment the fine
figure of the free-trader was seen standing on the
edge of the burning ship, looking with regret at the
glowing mass.
“'Tis the end of a lovely craft!” he said, loud
enough to be heard by those beneath. Then he appeared
in the air, and sunk into the sea—“The last
signal was from the ward-room,” added the dauntless
and dexterous mariner, as he rose from the water,
and, shaking the brine from his head, he took his
place on the stage—“Would to God the wind would
blow, for we have need of greater distance!”
The precaution the free-trader had taken, in adjusting
the sails, was not without its use. Motion
were still aback, the flaming mass, no longer arrested
by the clogs in the water, began slowly to separate
from the floating spars, though the tottering and half-burnt
masts threatened, at each moment, to fall.
Never did moments seem so long, as those which
succeeded. Even the Skimmer and Ludlow watched,
in speechless interest, the tardy movements of the
ship. By little and little, she receded; and, after ten
minutes of intense expectation, the seamen, whose
anxiety had increased as their exertions ended, began
to breathe more freely. They were still fearfully
near the dangerous fabric, but destruction from
the explosion was no longer inevitable. The flames
began to glide upwards, and then the heavens appeared
on fire, as one heated sail after another kindled
and flared wildly in the breeze.
Still the stern of the vessel was entire. The body
of the master was seated against the mizen-mast,
and even the stern visage of the old seaman was
distinctly visible, under the broad light of the conflagration.
Ludlow gazed at it in melancholy, and
for a time he ceased to think of his ship, while
memory dwelt, in sadness, on those scenes of boyish
happiness, and of professional pleasures, in which his
ancient shipmate had so largely participated. The
roar of a gun, whose stream of fire flashed nearly to
their faces, and the sullen whistling of its shot, which
crossed the raft, failed to awaken him from his trance.
“Stand firm to the mess-chest!” half-whispered
the Skimmer, motioning to his companions to place
themselves in attitudes to support the weaker of their
party, while, with sedulous care, he braced his own
athletic person in a manner to throw all of its
weight and strength against the seat. “Stand firm,
and be ready!”
Ludlow complied, though his eye scarce changed
its direction. He saw the bright flame that was
came from the funeral pile of the young Dumont,
whose fate, at that moment, he was almost disposed
to envy. Then his look returned to the grim countenance
of Trysail. At moments, it seemed as if the
dead master spoke; and so strong did the illusion
become, that our young sailor more than once bent
forward to listen. While under this delusion, the
body rose, with the arms stretched upwards. The
air was filled with a sheet of streaming fire, while
the ocean and the heavens glowed with one glare
of intense and fiery red. Notwithstanding the precaution
of the `Skimmer of the Seas,' the chest was
driven from its place, and those by whom it was
held were nearly precipitated into the water. A
deep, heavy detonation proceeded as it were from
the bosom of the sea, which, while it wounded the
ear less than the sharp explosion that had just before
issued from the gun, was audible at the distant capes
of the Delaware. The body of Trysail sailed upward
for fifty fathoms, in the centre of a flood of
flame, and, describing a short curve, it came towards
the raft, and cut the water within reach of the captain's
arm. A sullen plunge of a gun followed, and
proclaimed the tremendous power of the explosion;
while a ponderous yard fell athwart a part of the
raft, sweeping away the four petty officers of Ludlow,
as if they had been dust driving before a gale.
To increase the wild and fearful grandeur of the
dissolution of the royal cruiser, one of the cannon
emitted its fiery contents while sailing in the void.
The burning spars, the falling fragments, the
blazing and scattered canvas and cordage, the glowing
shot, and all the torn particles of the ship, were
seen descending. Then followed the gurgling of
water, as the ocean swallowed all that remained of
the cruiser which had so long been the pride of the
American seas. The fiery glow disappeared, and a
lightning, fell on the scene.
| CHAPTER XIV. The water-witch, or, The skimmer of the seas | |