University of Virginia Library

7. CHAPTER VII.

A STORM—ITS EFFECTS—A BUCCANEER—CHANGE OF DESTINATION.

The sun went down that evening with an angry
aspect---lurid clouds were piled around him, and the
western skies wore that brassy hue, reflected upon
the leaden waters, which, in those seas, is the precursor
of a storm. The commander of the brigantine,
which had now become the temporary abode
of Constanza, was standing upon the quarter-deck,
watching the huge masses of piled-up clouds, and
threatening appearance of the heavens, with an
anxious eye.

“Make all snug,” he said, turning to his second
in command, after a long survey of the brewing
tempest. “We are likely to have a hard night of
it—you had better send down the royal and top-gallant
sails, and single reef the top-sails.”

The necessary orders were given by the mate,
and speedily executed by the active seamen; and
the brig held on her course, steadily, under her
lessened sail. The clouds rapidly rose in the west,
and extended along the heavens, gradually unrolling

like a scroll, till the massive edge of the huge
embankment hung, like a beetling crag above the
vessel, casting a black shadow, over half the sea.

“Strike the top-gallant-masts, and close-reef the
top-sails and stay-sail,” shouted the captain, quickly,
as the clouds came careering on, driving before the
invisible, and yet unfelt tempest.

The night was fast setting in, though the red
twilight, still lingered in the east---while along
the western horizon, both sky and sea, were enveloped
in terrific gloom. Suddenly the light
breeze which had wafted them along, died away---
and a fearful stillness dwelt in the warm air, while
respiration became painful. The sailors stood at
the several posts, where the coming danger might
most require their presence---conversing in low tones
with each other---now watching anxiously the gathering
storm, which momently threatened to burst
upon their helpless bark---or now, with an inquiring
gaze, marking the face of their captain---a veteran
seaman, with his head silvered by the storms of
sixty winters.

He stood near the helmsman wrapped in a long
drab pea-jacket, buttoned closely at his throat---a
glazed hat, with a broad brim, upon his head, and
a trumpet in his hand. His eye was full of care,
but wore no expression betraying doubt, but rather
a consciousness of being able to contend successfully,
with whatever might occur---a consciousness
originating in long and successful experience. His
features were calm, and his voice full and natural,
when, occasionally, he addressed his officers, or the
helmsman.

Suddenly a flash of lightning shot along the face
of the black bosom of the cloud, like a glittering
serpent---and the air was rent with a report so loud,
that every startled seaman placed his hands suddenly,
and intensely to his temples. A tomb-like

silence succeeded, and the dark cloud unrolled, till it
covered all the heavens, encircling the horizon in a
fearful embrace.

“What, my lovely passenger!” said the captain,
with gallantry, as the slight form of Constanza met
his eye. “The thunder has alarmed you! shall I
attend you to your state room?”

“No, oh no, Señor, the cabin is too close---It is
but thunder, then! I thought it the firing of cannon!
We are not pursued! Bless thee, Santa
Maria,” she continued mentally “I feared that dangerous
man had changed his mind---I did him injustice.
But oh, that I were safe beneath my
uncle's roof! Is it far to Kingston, Señor?” she
inquired.

“Twelve leagues, lady---if we safely weather
this gale, we shall be there by morning.”

“Thank you, sir, for such cheering words; but
is there, as your words imply, danger? See! that
light upon the sea! what is it?” she inquired
eagerly, pointing to the west.

“Now we have it---stand ready, all!” he shouted,
as a line of white foam, stretching along the horizon,
caught his eye, as he looked up at her exclamation.

The vessel lay broadside to the path of the
coming tempest, and so great was the calm, that
the helmsman had no control over her. The captain,
gave his several orders with professional rapidity,
and energy.

“Hard-a-weather—hard-up, hard-up, for your
life!” and he sprung to the helm, but the head of
the brig remained immoveable in the same direction.

“Good God! Head her off, or we shall be capsized!
lady—below, below—youngster,” he cried,
to Théodore, “see to her!”

Every precaution was taken for the safety of the
brig, that experienced seamanship could suggest: the

old man stood grasping the helm with a firm hand,
while, with a calm, and unblenching eye, he
watched the advancing hurricane. Onward it
came—ploughing up the sea, which boiled, roaring
and foaming before it—a moving wall of surge.

Constanza, with one hand grasping the companion-way,
within which she stood, and the other
resting upon the arm of her young attendant, gazed
fearfully upon the visible presence of the tempest.
Her bosom heaved irregularly—her cheek was pale,
and her lips shut with expectation—but there was
a sublimity in the scene which she loved, and
which, chained her to the spot.

The lightnings flashed fast and fierce out from
the black clouds, which seemed suspended close
above their heads, and run like veins of gold along
the heavens. The thunder came peal upon peal,
like reports of artillery, rattling along the skies, and
reverberating around the horizon, died away in the
distance in low, indistinct mutterings. The glassy
waves between the vessel and the rapidly careering
tempest, began to heave, and while every man held
in his breath with expectation, the brig rolled heavily,
and within a few moments of the time when
the distant moan of the tempest was first heard, with
a loud roar, the storm of wind and wave burst upon
the devoted vessel.

“Now---look to yourselves!” shouted the captain;
and the wild waters leaped over the brig with the
noise and body of a cataract---the furious winds
twisted the light masts like withes---and the brig
was borne bodily down by the irresistible force of
the tempest, and lay prostrate upon her beam-ends.

The weather main-chains were wrenched like
threads, with all their rigging, from the sides of the
vessel; and the main-mast, bending like whalebone,
broke off with a loud crack close to the deck. A
wild cry mingled with the roar of the tempest, while

the live thunder leaped, and the lightnings glared
about their vessel, as if in mockery of human suffering.

“Cut away the foremast---lively, men, lively!”
cried the captain, clinging to the quarter-rail half
emerged in the sea; and the mate, who was prepared
for this emergency, run along the elevated
side of the ship, and with an axe severed, one after
another, the distended stays, which flew wildly into
the air, lashing the sea as they fell. The remaining
one parted with a sharp report before the axe
descended, and the unsustained mast, which lay
level with the water, after a few vigorous blows by
the same daring hand, snapped off a few feet from
the deck, and a large wave, lifting it up like a straw,
bore it, with all its rigging, far away to leeward.
Immediately the relieved vessel righted and floated
amid the tumultuous ocean, an unmanageable
wreck.

The moment the hurricane struck the side of the
vessel, Théodore, holding firmly the arm of Constanza,
drew hastily the slide of the companion-way,
the doors of which were closed, over the place where
she stood, and the waters swept harmlessly over her.
But the violence of the shock would have thrown
her down, had not the young buccaneer, with great
presence of mind, rapidly adapted their position to
the sudden inclination of the vessel. Alarmed, she
stood with her crucifix clasped to her lips till the
vessel righted, when, at her repeated request, Theodore
drew back the slide to allow her to look forth
upon the tempest.

What a scene of wild sublimity met her gaze!
The heavens were pitchy black, over which the
lightnings played in streams of fire---the thunder
rolled continually in one prolonged and incessant
reverberation---the sea was illuminated with phosphorescent
light and raging with a loud roar, while

vast masses of water, rising from its bosom on every
side, would swell into gigantic billows, and burst into
a head of glittering foam.

The vessel, with her upper deck flooded, plunged
heavily into the deep gulfs which yawned on every
side, threatening to entomb her. The whole scene
that met her eye was one of sublime, but fearful
desolation. The old man, with his saturated grey
locks streaming in the gale, stood at the helm, which
he had seized when the brig righted---for the helmsman
had been borne off into the sea, and his far-off
wail for help had long before died in the more melancholy
howlings of the storm.

“This is indeed fearful!” she exclaimed. “Poor,
old man---he has lost perhaps his all---but his life is
safe. Safe?” she repeated, despairingly; “Oh, who
can say that one life is safe in this appalling scene!”

“Nay, lady, the bite of the storm is over---we
only hear his growl,” said the boy; “at any rate,
it can harm this old hulk no more. We are not far
from land, if it were but day we could see it. Cheer
up, lady---there is no more to fear.”

“I fear not, señor, for myself,” she replied, calmly;
“but that venerable man! he is perhaps a parent---
it is for him, and for you, I feel---you have, perhaps,
a mother and a fair sister, whose lives are wrapped
up in you!”

“No, lady,” he replied, sadly; “I am a parentless
boy. There is none to call me brother. I can
remember once loving, both a mother and sister, but
they now sleep in the sea. Captain Lafitte found
me a lonely and dying boy on such a wreck as
this---he is all I have to care for me.”

“And does he care for you?”

“Lady, he does. His is a stern nature, and wild
deeds are familiar to him. Yet he has deep affections.
Lady, he cares much for me! He imagines
I resemble one---his brother, I believe, though he

seldom speaks of it---who met with some mischance
in boyhood---for that resemblance also am I dear to
him.”

“Do you love him, boy?”

“Do you love your father, lady?”

“Oh, speak not of my father---alas, he too is
dead!”

“Pardon me, Señora---but thus I love my benefactor.”

The lady mused a moment upon the thoughts
which her companion's answer had called up---the
expiring gale sporting with her dark locks and
mantilla, which floated like a white cloud around
her head.

The lightning now became less frequent and
intense---the thunder rumbled only along the distant
horizon---the dark clouds, from whose bosom
burst the storm, broke in huge masses, the thin
edges of which grew lighter, while a spot of the
deep, blue sky, in which sparkled a solitary star,
could be seen at intervals between the driving
masses. The waves grew less and less in size---
breaking no longer like volcanoes bursting into
flame, but regularly in snowy caps, or rolling onward,
smooth, unbroken billows.

All at once, beneath an opening in a cloud in the
east, the sea shone with a silvery light, and Constanza,
who had watched the various phases of the
storm, and the rapid changes of the scene, with a
pleased and wondering eye, had scarcely exclaimed,

“Look señor---how beautiful! what can pour
that light down upon the sea?” when the breaking
clouds, sailing before the receding gale, displayed
the moon shining in unclouded brilliancy upon the
heaving sea---glancing her welcome beams over
the waves in a path of tremulous light, and falling
like a smile from heaven upon the lonely wreck.

“Ha! what! a sail! God be thanked!” exclaimed

the captain, as, after lashing the helm, he
made one of the group at the companion-way.

“Look, young sir, with your keener eye---just in
the moon's wake---no---it is the cap of a wave!”

“It is a sail, sir!” exclaimed the youth joyfully---“I
saw distinctly the outline of a main-sail,
and then it disappeared as though by the rolling of
the vessel There! the sails look black against the
moonlight!”

“I see it, boy---you are right,” answered the
captain, in a lively tone; “she is within half a mile
of us.”

“The blessed Maria forbid that she should pass
us by!” ejaculated Constanza.

“We will remedy that,” said the old commander,
cheerfully; and descending into the cabin, he returned
with a large blunderbuss.

“This will make more noise than a trumpet,”
he said, cocking it; “but we will first wait and see
if she does not come toward us.”

“I saw her distinctly, sir,” said Théodore, “while
you were below, and she appears to be a large
schooner lying to.”

“We will hail her then,” said the captain; and
holding the blunderbuss high above his head, he
pointed it in the direction of the vessel and fired.
The report of the piece, to their ears, yet familiar
with the roar of the tempest, sounded very faintly.

“I fear they will not hear it,” he said, “it
hardly seemed to go twice the length of the brig towards
her.”

The heart of the maiden sunk, and she involuntarily
grasped the arm of the youthful sailor.--
There was a moment of anxious suspense, when a
light flashed upon their eyes from the stranger, and
the heavy report of a large gun came booming
across the water.

“Thank God! we are safe!” exclaimed the
captain.—“She must be an armed vessel, from the
free way she burns powder.”

“She is making sail, sir,” said Théodore, after
gazing a minute intently at the vessel---she is a
schooner---her masts and main-sail are now plainly
visible; she has a main-top-mast stay-sail set, and
carries top-sails---with jib and flying jib---She is now
standing. No! do I see rightly? She is standing
from us, sir!”

“She is, indeed---” hastily exclaimed the captain,
in a disappointed tone.---She must have mistaken
our situation. We are so low in the water,
she could not see us till close aboard of us. Show
a light upon the stump of the mainmast!” he
shouted.

Before the seaman he addressed reached the forecastle,
Théodore had sprung below, and returned
to the deck with the swinging lamp, which hung in
the cabin, and, raising it on the end of the blunderbuss,
held it above his head.

In silence, and with heart-rending anxiety, they
watched the success of their beacon, and, in a few
minutes, an answering light from the stranger,
filled their bosoms with delight. The vessel now
tacked, and stood towards them, often appearing
and disappearing from their eyes, as the dismasted
brig rose upon some larger billow, or descended into
some profounder cavern of the waves.

Their deliverer came towards them, with tall and
stately motion—his sails rounded with the lulling
breeze, and his prow flinging high the spray, as
she bounded forward.

“I should know that vessel,” said Théodore,
quickly, as she came nearer.—Yes! it is sir!—”
he said, turning to the captain—“that is a buccaneer!”

“Lady, dear lady!” he said, as a slight exclamation

escaped Constanza, “be not alarmed!
I am surety for your safety. That is one of our
squadron—I am known to the commander—he
shall convey you in safety to Jamaica.”

The maiden spoke not, but with clasped hands
and tearful eyes, silently looked up to heaven, as
if she looked for that protection there, which
seemed denied her on earth.

“Wreck ahoy!—” shouted a stern voice from
the schooner, which was now under the stern of the
brig, showing four ports to a side, and from the
numerous dark heads peering over the hammock-nettings,
apparently full of men.

“Captain, your trumpet! allow me to reply.
Your safety depends upon it!” said the youth,
taking the instrument from his passive hands.

“Ho! the Julié!”

“Who the devil are you?” replied the first
hailer.

“A prize of Lafitte's, bound into the rendezvous,
and dismasted in the squall.”

“Is that Théodore?”

“Even as you are Sebastiano! Send a boat for
the prisoners; and, afterwards, take out the cargo.
It is valuable.”

“Be not so ready, my good youth, to bestow
what belongs not to you—” said the old man,
eagerly interposing.

“There is no alternative, sir; he must have all.
And what avails it to you now, whether it go to the
use of good Sebastiano, there, who is making such
commendable haste with his boat—or, as must inevitably
have been the case, to the bottom of the
sea!—You must ask of Sebastiano no more than
life. He will argue the point with you, and demonstrate
to his, if not to your satisfaction, that he
pays well for the cargo, by saving you from the
dolphins.”

The boat, riding over the huge seas, now balancing
upon their summit, now disappearing in their
hollow, at length reached the wreck, and a heavily-built
man, who had passed into his third score
of allotted years, stepped on to the deck of the
brig.

“Oh, Théodore—Señor Théodore!” scarcely
articulated the trembling maiden, clinging, with
nervous apprehension, to his arm.

“Do not be alarmed, Señora,” he replied, encouragingly,
“I can manage this lump of bone and
muscle, as I would a chained bear. Ha! my good
Sebastiano!” he added, addressing him with much
freedom, “I greet your jocund phiz with more of
welcome than I ever dreamed I should do.”

“By the twelve apostles! always including the
worthy Judas,” growled the buccaneer, in reply,
casting his eyes over the wreck, “but you have
made clean work of this. Sathan, himself, seemed
to lend his bellows, and a spare hand, to help blow
out the gale to night. The Julié once carried a
holy father, and the devil could'nt hurt her, so we
were safe. Santa Madre!---if it had been in
broad noon, it would have blown out the suns
eye--Cielos!---but who have we here?” he continued,
raising his voice, on discovering the figure
of the maiden, half-concealed behind the intervening
person of the young buccaneer. Instinctively,
the terrified Constanza withdrew herself from the
rude gaze of the rover, and closely veiled her
face.

“It is a lady,” he said in his ear, “who
goes on large ransom to Kingston:---She must
be treated,” he added, firmly, “with respect.---It is
the express command of Lafitte.”

“Señor Lafitte's commands are gospel to me—”
he replied, with deference in his gruff tones. “Se
ñora. Yo espero que su alteza veo en perfecta

salud—”he said, addressing the assured Constanza,
and bowing with blunt respect in his manner.

“This vessel being in a sinking condition,
Señora,” he continued, “it has become necessary
to remove you. In all things, captain Lafitte
should be obeyed; but circumstances, as I can
readily prove to you, often render obedience impossible,
as for instance—”

“Come, Sebastiano, the lady will hear your
conclusion on board the Julié. Is your boat
ready?”

“All ready, Señorito Théodore.”

“Ho!” he cried, “make room for the captain's
lady to pass. He is to take to himself a wife, according
to the command. Now it is good to marry
hombres, first, because if this generation should not
be given in marriage, the next---”

“Good Señor captain Sebastiano!” exclaimed
Théodore, with some impatience.

“Well, well, Señorito Théodore, the boat is
ready---in proof of which---”

“Hold hard, there, men!” cried Théodore---
“jump in, sir,” said he to the captain of the brig,
who reluctantly obeyed. “Now allow me to fold
this cloak about your form, Señora,---hold firmly to
my arm---Juana, step into the boat, or you will be
overboard---Now wait till the boat rises again---
There! step firmly! Done like a seaman! Se
ñora!” said Sebastiano, as he aided Théodore in
handing her into the boat. “What a light foot for
a royal boy!” he added aside to him.

“Shove off! Now give way!” he said aloud,
with a professional brevity unnatural to him; and,
in a few minutes, the party were safely landed on
the deck of the schooner.

Constanza assured, from the respect shown her
by the buccaneer, and the manifold influence of
Théodore over him and his crew, that she had nothing,

at present, to apprehend, retired to a little
state-room, to which he conducted her, and, wearied
by the trying scenes through which she had passed,
threw herself into one of the berths of the rude, but
comfortable, cabin, and was soon buried in profound
and peaceful sleep.

Théodore now took the pirate aside, and explained
to him those facts which he did not choose to
disclose before the crew, ever ready to mutiny on
the slightest occasion.

“Now, Sebastiano,” he said, after the most valuable
freight had been removed to the schooner from
the brig, which soon, with a plunge, disappeared
beneath the surface, and the seamen, placed under
the hatches, with some attention to their comfort,
as released prisoners of a former capture by their
captain, and sail once more made on the schooner,
“Now, good Sebastiano, we must put into Kingston
to-morrow. This lady must be landed, according
to the terms of the ransom,---”

“Now, look you, my very worthy youth, whom,
next to captain Lafitte, I hold in all respect---and
for three reasons---”

“I will hear your reasons another time, Sebastiano---”
replied the youth, quickly---“You must
to Kingston to-morrow.”

Here a discussion of some length took place, in
which Sebastiano convinced his young friend, that,
on account of certain recent notorious captures, in
that vicinity, he would risk both his own, and the
necks of his men, and his vessel, if he approached
that port, as several armed cutters were already out
in search of him. Such was the cogency of his
arguments, that Théodore acquiesced; and immediately
explained to the ill-fated maiden the necessity
of adopting another course than that they
originally intended to pursue.

The schooner, therefore, under the orders of captain
Sebastiano, steered for one of the rendezvous of
Lafitte's squadron, before alluded to, situated at
the head of the bay of Gonzares, in the Island of
St. Domingo.