 | CHAPTER XV. The water-witch, or, The skimmer of the seas |  |
15. CHAPTER XV.
“—Please you, read.”
CYMBELINE.
“It is past!” said the `Skimmer of the Seas,'
raising himself from the attitude of great muscular
exertion, which he had assumed in order to support
the mess-chest, and walking out along the single
mast, towards the spot whence the four seamen of
Ludlow had just been swept. “It is past! and those
who are called to the last account, have met their
fate in such a scene as none but a seaman may witness;
while those who are spared, have need of all
a seaman's skill and resolution for that which remains!
Captain Ludlow, I do not despair; for, see,
the lady of the brigantine has still a smile for her
servitors!”
Ludlow, who had followed the steady and daring
free-trader to the place where the spar had fallen,
turned and cast a look in the direction that the other
stretched his arm. Within a hundred feet of him,
he saw the image of the sea-green lady, rocking in
the agitated water, and turned towards the raft,
with its usual expression of wild and malicious intelligence.
This emblem of their fancied mistress had
been borne in front of the smugglers, when they
mounted the poop of the Coquette; and the steeled
staff on which the lantern was perched, had been
struck into a horse-bucket by the standard-bearer
of the moment, ere he entered the mêlée of the combat.
During the conflagration, this object had more
floating quietly by him, in a manner almost
to shake even his contempt for the ordinary superstitions
of seamen. While he hesitated in what manner
he should reply to his companion's remark, the
latter plunged into the sea, and swam towards the
light. He was soon by the side of the raft again,
bearing aloft the symbol of his brigantine. There
are none so firm in the dominion of reason, as to be
entirely superior to the secret impulses which teach
us all to believe in the hidden agency of a good or
an evil fortune. The voice of the free-trader was
more cheerful, and his step more sure and elastic, as
he crossed the stage and struck the armed end of the
staff into that part of the top-rim of the Coquette,
which floated uppermost.
“Courage!” he gaily cried. “While this light
burns, my star is not set! Courage, lady of the land;
for here is one of the deep waters, who still looks
kindly on her followers! We are at sea, on a frail
craft it is certain, but a dull sailer may make a sure
passage.—Speak, gallant Master Seadrift: thy gaiety
and spirit should revive under so goodly an omen!”
But the agent of so many pleasant masquerades,
and the instrument of so much of his artifice, had not
a fortitude equal to the buoyant temper of the smuggler.
The counterfeit bowed his head by the side
of the silent Alida, without reply. The `Skimmer of
the Seas' regarded the group, a moment, with manly
interest; and then touching the arm of Ludlow, he
walked, with a balancing step, along the spars, until
they had reached a spot where they might confer
without causing unnecessary alarm to their companions.
Although so imminent and so pressing a danger as
that of the explosion had passed, the situation of
those who had escaped was scarcely better than that
of those who had been lost. The heavens showed a
and now, that the first contrast of the change had
lessened, there was just enough light to render all the
features of their actual state gloomily imposing.
It has been said, that the fore-mast of the Coquette
went by the board, with most of its hamper
aloft. The sails, with such portion of the rigging as
might help to sustain it, had been hastily cut away
as related; and after its fall, until the moment of the
explosion, the common men had been engaged, either
in securing the staging, or in clearing the wreck of
those heavy ropes which, useless as fastenings, only
added to the weight of the mass. The whole wreck
lay upon the sea, with the yards crossed and in their
places, much as the spars had stood. The large
booms had been unshipped, and laid in such a manner
around the top, with the ends resting on the
lower and top-sail yards, as to form the foundation of
the staging. The smaller booms, with the mess-chest
and shot-boxes, were all that lay between the group
in the centre, and the depths of the ocean. The
upper part of the top-rim rose a few feet above the
water, and formed an important protection against
the night-breeze and the constant washing of the
waves. In this manner were the females seated, cautioned
not to trust their feet on the frail security of
the booms, and supported by the unremitting care of
the Alderman. Francois had submitted to be lashed
to the top by one of the brigantine's seamen, while
the latter, all of the common herd who remained,
encouraged by the presence of their standard-light,
began to occupy themselves in looking to the fastenings
and other securities of the raft.
“We are in no condition for a long or an active
cruise, Captain Ludlow,” said the Skimmer, when he
and his companion were out of hearing. “I have
been at sea in all weathers, and in every description
the water.—I hope it may not be the last!”
“We cannot conceal from ourselves the frightful
hazards we run,” returned Ludlow, “however much
we may wish them to be a secret to some among
us.”
“This is truly a deserted sea, to be abroad in, on
a raft! Were we in the narrow passages between
the British islands and the Main, or even in the Biscay
waters, there would be hope that some trader
or roving cruiser might cross our track; but our
chance here lies much between the Frenchman and
the brigantine.”
“The enemy has doubtless seen and heard the explosion,
and, as the land is so near, they will infer
that the people are saved in the boats. Our chance
of seeing more of them is much diminished by the
accident of the fire, since there will no longer be a
motive for remaining on the coast.”
“And will your young officers abandon their captain
without a search?”
“Hope of aid from that quarter is faint. The ship
ran miles while in flames, and, before the light returns,
these spars will have drifted leagues, with the
ebbing tide, to seaward.”
“Truly, I have sailed with better auguries!” observed
the Skimmer—“What are the bearings and
distance of the land?”
“It still lies to the north, but we are fast setting
east and southerly. Ere morning we shall be abeam
of Montauk, or even beyond it; we must already be
some leagues in the offing.”
“That is worse than I had imagined!—but there
is hope on the flood?”
“The flood will bear us northward again—but—
what think you of the heavens?”
“Unfavorable, though not desperate. The sea-breeze
will return with the sun.”
“And with it will return the swell! How long will
these ill-secured spars hold together, when agitated
by the heave of the water? Or, how long will those
with us bear up against the wash of the sea, unsupported
by nourishment?”
“You paint in gloomy colors, Captain Ludlow,”
said the free-trader, drawing a heavy breath, in
spite of all his resolution. “My experience tells me
you are right, though my wishes would fain contradict
you. Still, I think we have the promise of a
tranquil night.”
“Tranquil for a ship, or even for a boat; but hazardous
to a raft like this. You see that this top-mast
already works in the cap, at each heave of the water,
and as the wood loosens, our security lessens.”
“Thy council is not flattering!—Captain Ludlow,
you are a seaman and a man, and I shall not attempt
to trifle with your knowledge. With you, I think the
danger imminent, and almost our only hope dependent
on the good fortune of my brigantine.”
“Will those in her think it their duty to quit their
anchorage, to come in quest of a raft whose existence
is unknown to them?”
“There is hope in the vigilance of her of the sea-green
mantle! You may deem this fanciful, or even
worse, at such a moment; but I, who have run so
many gauntlets under her favor, have faith in her
fortunes. Surely, you are not a seaman, Captain
Ludlow, without a secret dependence on some unseen
and potent agency!”
“My dependence is placed in the agency of him
who is all-potent, but never visible. If he forget us,
we may indeed despair!”
“This is well, but it is not the fortune I would express.
Believe me, spite of an education which teaches
all you have said, and of a reason that is often too
clear for folly, there is a secret reliance on hidden
chances, that has been created by a life of activity
does not abandon me to despair. The omen of
the light and the smile of my mistress would cheer
me, spite of a thousand philosophers!”
“You are fortunate in purchasing consolation so
cheaply;” returned the commander of Queen Anne,
who felt a latent hope in his companion's confidence
that he would have hesitated to acknowledge. “I
see but little that we can do to aid our chances, except
it be to clear away all unnecessary weight, and
to secure the raft as much as possible by additional
lashings.”
The `Skimmer of the Seas' assented to the proposal.
Consulting a moment longer, on the details
of their expedients, they rejoined the group near the
top, in order to see them executed. As the seamen
on the raft were reduced to the two people of the
brigantine, Ludlow and his companion were obliged
to assist in the performance of the duty.
Much useless rigging, that added to the pressure
without aiding the buoyancy of the raft, was cut
away; and all the boom-irons were knocked off the
yards, and suffered to descend to the bottom of the
ocean. By these means a great weight was taken
from the raft, which in consequence floated with so
much additional power to sustain those who depended
on it for life. The Skimmer, accompanied by his
two silent but obedient seamen, ventured along the
attenuated and submerged spars to the extremity of
the tapering masts, and after toiling, with the dexterity
of men accustomed to deal with the complicated
machinery of a ship in the darkest nights, they
succeeded in releasing the two smaller masts with
their respective yards, and in floating them down to
the body of the wreck, or the part around the top.
Here the sticks were crossed in a manner to give
great additional strength and footing to the stage.
There was an air of hope, and a feeling of increased
and Francois aided in the task, to the extent
of their knowledge and force. But when these alterations
were made, and additional lashings had
been applied to keep the topmast and the larger
yards in their places, Ludlow, by joining those who
were around the mast-head, tacitly admitted that
little more could be done to avert the chances of the
elements.
During the few hours occupied in this important
duty, Alida and her companion addressed themselves
to God, in long and fervent petitions. With woman's
faith in that divine being who alone could avail them,
and with woman's high mental fortitude in moments
of protracted trial, they had both known how to control
the exhibition of their terrors, and had sought
their support in the same appeal to a power superior
to all of earth. Ludlow was therefore more than
rewarded by the sound of Alida's voice, speaking to
him cheerfully, as she thanked him for what he had
done, when he admitted that he could now do no
more.
“The rest is with Providence!” added Alida. “All
that bold and skilful seamen can do, have ye done;
and all that woman in such a situation can do, have
we done in your behalf!”
“Thou hast thought of me in thy prayers, Alida!
It is an intercession that the stoutest needs, and
which none but the fool derides.”
“And thou, Eudora! thou hast remembered him
who quiets the waters!” said a deep voice, near the
bending form of the counterfeit Seadrift.
“I have.”
“'Tis well.—There are points to which manhood
and experience may pass, and there are those where
all is left to one mightier than the elements!”
Words like these, coming from the lips of one of
the known character of the `Skimmer of the Seas,'
uneasy look at the heavens, when they came upon
his ear, as if they conveyed a secret notice of the
whole extremity of the danger by which they were
environed. None answered; and a long silence succeeded,
during which some of the more fatigued
slumbered uneasily, spite of their fearful situation.
In this manner did the night pass, in weariness and
anxiety. Little was said, and for hours scarce a limb
was moved, in the group that clustered around the
mess-chest. As the signs of day appeared, however,
every faculty was keenly awake, to catch the first
signs of what they had to hope, or the first certainty
of what they had to fear.
The surface of the ocean was still smooth, though
the long swells in which the element was heaving and
setting, sufficiently indicated that the raft had floated
far from the land. This fact was rendered sure, when
the light, which soon appeared along the eastern
margin of the narrow view, was shed gradually over
the whole horizon. Nothing was at first visible, but
one gloomy and vacant waste of water. But a cry
of joy from Seadrift, whose senses had long been
practised in ocean sights, soon drew all eyes in the
direction opposite to that of the rising sun, and it was
not long before all on the low raft had a view of the
snowy surfaces of a ship's sails, as the glow of morning
touched the canvas.
“It is the Frenchman!” said the free-trader. “He
is charitably looking for the wreck of his late enemy!”
“It may be so, for our fate can be no secret to
him;” was the answer of Ludlow. “Unhappily, we
had run some distance from the anchorage, before
the flames broke out. Truly, those with whom we
so lately struggled for life, are bent on a duty of
humanity.”
“Ah, younder is his crippled consort!—to leeward
many a league. The gay bird has been too sadly
This is man's fortune! He uses his power, at one
moment, to destroy the very means that become necessary
to his safety, the next.”
“And what think you of our hopes?” asked Alida,
searching in the countenance of Ludlow a clue to
their fate. “Does the stranger move in a direction
favorable to our wishes?”
Neither Ludlow nor the Skimmer replied. Both
regarded the frigate intently, and then, as objects
became more distinct, both answered, by a common
impulse, that the ship was steering directly towards
them. The declaration excited general hope, and
even the negress was no longer restrained by her
situation from expressing her joy in vociferous exclamations
of delight.
A few minutes of active and ready exertion succeeded.
A light boom was unlashed from the raft,
and raised on its end, supporting a little signal, made
of the handkerchiefs of the party, which fluttered in
the light breeze, at the elevation of some twenty
feet above the surface of the water. After this precaution
was observed, they were obliged to await the
result in such patience as they could assume. Minute
passed after minute, and, at each moment, the form
and proportions of the ship became more distinct,
until all the mariners of the party declared they could
distinguish men on her yards. A cannon would have
readily sent its shot from the ship to the raft, and
yet no sign betrayed the consciousness of those in
the former of the proximity of the latter.
“I do not like his manner of steering!” observed
the Skimmer to the silent and attentive Ludlow. “He
yaws broadly, as if disposed to give up the search.
God grant him the heart to continue on his course
ten minutes longer!”
“Have we no means of making ourselves heard?”
demanded the Alderman. “Methinks the voice of a
when life is the stake.”
The more experienced shook their heads; but, not
discouraged, the burgher raised his voice with a
power that was sustained by the imminency of the
peril. He was joined by the seamen, and even Ludlow
lent his aid, until all were hoarse with the fruitless
efforts. Men were evidently aloft, and in some
numbers, searching the ocean with their eyes, but
still no answering signal came from the vessel.
The ship continued to approach, and the raft was
less than half a mile from her bows, when the vast
fabric suddenly receded from the breeze, showed the
whole of its glittering broadside, and, swinging its
yards, betrayed by its new position that the search
in that direction was abandoned. The instant Ludlow
saw the filling-off of the frigate's bows, he cried—
“Now, raise your voices together;—this is the
final chance!”
They united in a common shout, with the exception
of the `Skimmer of the Seas.' The latter leaned
against the top with folded arms, listening to their
impotent efforts with a melancholy smile.
“It is well attempted,” said the calm and extraordinary
seaman when the clamor had ceased, advancing
along the raft and motioning for all to be
silent; “but it has failed. The swinging of the yards,
and the orders given in waring ship, would prevent
a stronger sound from being audible to men so actively
employed. I flatter none with hope, but this
is truly the moment for a final effort.”
He placed his hands to his mouth, and, disregarding
words, he raised a cry so clear, so powerful, and yet
so full, that it seemed impossible those in the vessel
should not hear. Thrice did he repeat the experiment,
though it was evident that each successive exertion
was feebler than the last.
“They hear!” cried Alida. “There is a movement
in the sails!”
“'Tis the beeeze freshening;” answered Ludlow,
in sadness, at her side. “Each moment takes them
away!”
The melancholy truth was too apparent for denial,
and for half an hour the retiring ship was
watched in the bitterness of disappointment. At the
end of that time, she fired a gun, spread additional
canvas on her wide booms, and stood away before
the wind, to join her consort, whose upper sails were
already dipping to the surface of the sea, in the
southern board. With this change in her movements,
vanished all expectation of succor from the cruiser
of the enemy.
Perhaps, in every situation of life, it is necessary
that hope should be first lessened by disappointment,
before the buoyancy of the human mind will permit
it to descend to the level of an evil fortune. Until a
frustrated effort teaches him the difficulty of the attempt,
he who has fallen may hope to rise again;
and it is only when an exertion has been made with
lessened means, that we learn the value of advantages,
which have perhaps been long enjoyed, with a
very undue estimate of their importance. Until the
stern of the French frigate was seen retiring from the
raft, those who were on it had not been fully sensible
of the extreme danger of their situation. Hope had
been strongly excited by the return of dawn; for
while the shadows of night lay on the ocean, their
situation resembled that of one who strove to pierce
the obscurity of the future, in order to obtain a
presage of better fortunes. With the light had
come the distant sail. As the day advanced, the ship
had approached, relinquished her search, and disappeared,
without a prospect of her return.
The stoutest heart among the group on the raft,
inevitable.
“Here is an evil omen!” whispered Ludlow, directing
his companion's eyes to the dark and pointed
fins of three or four sharks, that were gliding above
the surface of the water, and in so fearful a proximity
to their persons, as to render their situation on
the low spars, over which the water was washing
and retiring at each rise and fall of the waves,
doubly dangerous.—“The creature's instinct speaks
ill for our hopes!”
“There is a belief among seamen, that these
animals feel a secret impulse, which directs them to
their prey;” returned the Skimmer. “But fortune
may yet balk them.—Rogerson!” calling to one of
his followers;—“thy pockets are rarely wanting in
a fisherman's tackle. Hast thou, haply, line and hook,
for these hungry miscreants? The question is getting
narrowed to one, in which the simplest philosophy is
the wisest. When eat or to be eaten, is the mooted
point, most men will decide for the former.”
A hook of sufficient size was soon produced, and
a line was quietly provided from some of the small
cordage that still remained about the masts. A piece
of leather, torn from a spar, answered for the bait;
and the lure was thrown. Extreme hunger seemed
to engross the voracious animals, who darted at the
imaginary prey with the rapidity of lightning. The
shock was so sudden and violent, that the hapless
mariner was drawn from his slippery and precarious
footing, into the sea. The whole passed with a frightful
and alarming rapidity. A common cry of horror
was heard, and the last despairing glance of the fallen
man was witnessed. The mutilated body floated for
an instant in its blood, with the look of agony and
terror still imprinted on the conscious countenance.
At the next moment, it had become food for the
monsters of the sea.
All had passed away, but the deep dye on the
surface of the ocean. The gorged fish disappeared;
but the dark spot remained near the immovable raft,
as if placed there to warn the survivors of their
fate.
“This is horrible!” said Ludlow.
“A sail!” shouted the Skimmer, whose voice and
tone, breaking in on that moment of intense horror
and apprehension, sounded like a cry from the
heavens. “My gallant brigantine!”
“God grant she come with better fortune than
those who have so lately left us!”
“God grant it, truly! If this hope fail, there is
none left. Few pass here, and we have had sufficient
proof that our top-gallants are not so lofty as to catch
every eye.”
All attention was now bestowed on the white speck
which was visible on the margin of the ocean, and
which the `Skimmer of the Seas' confidently pronounced
to be the Water-Witch. None but a seaman
could have felt this certainty; for, seen from
the low raft, there was little else to be distinguished
but the heads of the upper sails. The direction too
was unfavorable, as it was to leeward; but both
Ludlow and the free-trader assured their companions,
that the vessel was endeavoring to beat in with
the land.
The two hours that succeeded lingered like days
of misery. So much depended on a variety of events,
that every circumstance was noted by the seamen
of the party, with an interest bordering on agony.
A failure of the wind might compel the vessel to
remain stationary, and then both brigantine and raft
would be at the mercy of the uncertain currents of
the ocean; a change of wind might cause a change
of course, and render a meeting impossible; an increase
of the breeze might cause destruction, even
before the succor could come. In addition to these
were dependent on the fact that the people of the
brigantine had every reason to believe the fate of
the party was already sealed.
Still, fortune seemed propitious; for the breeze,
though steady, was light, the intention of the vessel
was evidently to pass somewhere near them, and the
hope that their object was search, so strong and
plausible, as to exhilarate every bosom.
At the expiration of the time named, the brigantine
passed the raft to leeward, and so near as to
render the smaller objects in her rigging distinctly
visible.
“The faithful fellows are looking for us!” exclaimed
the free-trader, with strong emotion in his
voice. “They are men to scour the coast, ere they
abandon us!”
“They pass us—wave the signal—it may catch
their eyes!”
The little flag was unheeded, and, after so long
and so intense expectation, the party on the raft had
the pain to see the swift-moving vessel glide past
them, and drawing so far ahead as to leave little
hope of her return. The heart of even the `Skimmer
of the Seas' appeared to sink within him, at the
disappointment.
“For myself, I care not;” said the stout mariner
mournfully. “Of what consequence is it, in what sea,
or on what voyage, a seaman goes into his watery
tomb?—but for thee, my hapless and playful Eudora,
I could wish another fate—ha!—she tacks!—the
sea-green lady has an instinct for her children, after
all!”
The brigantine was in stays.—In ten or fifteen
minutes more, the vessel was again abeam of the
raft, and to windward.
“If she pass us now, our chance is gone, without
a shadow of hope;” said the Skimmer, motioning
his mouth, he shouted, as if despair lent a giant's
volume to his lungs—
“Ho! The Water-Witch!—ahoy!”
The last word issued from his lips with the clear,
audible cry, that the peculiar sound is intended to
produce. It appeared as if the conscious little bark
knew its commander's voice; for its course changed
slightly, as if the fabric were possessed of the consciousness
and faculties of life.
“Ho! The Water-Witch!—ahoy!” shouted the
Skimmer, with a still mightier effort.
“—Hilloa!” came down faintly on the breeze,
and the direction of the brigantine again altered.
“The Water-Witch!—the Water-Witch!—ahoy!”
broke out of the lips of the mariner of the shawl,
with a supernatural force,—the last cry being drawn
out, till he who uttered it sunk back exhausted with
the effort.
The words were still ringing in the ears of the
breathless party on the raft, when a heavy shout
swept across the water. At the next moment the boom
of the brigantine swung off, and her narrow bows
were seen pointing towards the little beacon of white
that played above the sea. It was but a moment,
but it was a moment pregnant with a thousand hopes
and fears, before the beautiful craft was gliding
within fifty feet of the top. In less than five minutes,
the spars of the Coquette were floating on the wide
ocean, unpeopled and abandoned.
The first sensation of the `Skimmer of the Seas,'
when his foot touched the deck of his brigantine,
might have been one of deep and intense gratitude.
He was silent, and seemingly oppressed at the throat.
Stepping along the planks, he cast an eye aloft, and
struck his hand powerfully on the capstan, in a manner
that was divided between convulsion and affection.
Then he smiled grimly on his attentive and
and authority.
“Fill away the topsail—brace up and haul aft!
Trim every thing flat as boards, boys;—jam the
hussy in with the coast!”
| CHAPTER XV. The water-witch, or, The skimmer of the seas | |