 | CHAPTER III. The water-witch, or, The skimmer of the seas |  |
3. CHAPTER III.
And, anon, Sir,
I'll be with you again.”
Clown in Twelfth Night.
Although it is contrary to the apparent evidence
of our senses, there is no truth more certain than
that the course of most gales of wind comes from
the leeward. The effects of a tempest shall be felt,
for hours, at a point that is seemingly near its termination,
before they are witnessed at another, that appears
to be nearer its source. Experience has also
shown that a storm is more destructive, at or near its
place of actual commencement, than at that whence
it may seem to come. The easterly gales that so
often visit the coasts of the republic, commit their
ravages in the bays of Pennsylvania and Virginia, or
along the sounds of the Carolinas, hours before their
existence is known in the states further east; and
the same wind, which is a tempest at Hatteras, becomes
softened to a breeze, near the Penobscot.
There is, however, little mystery in this apparent
phenomenon. The vacuum which has been created
in the air, and which is the origin of all winds, must
be filled first from the nearest stores of the atmosphere;
and as each region contributes to produce
the equilibrium, it must, in return, receive other supplies
from those which lie beyond. Were a given
quantity of water to be suddenly abstracted from the
sea, the empty space would be replenished by a torrent
from the nearest surrounding fluid, whose level
would be restored, in succession, by supplies that
were less and less violently contributed. Were the
abstraction made on a shoal, or near the land, the
flow would be greatest from that quarter where the
come the current.
But while there is so close an affinity between
the two fluids, the workings of the viewless winds
are, in their nature, much less subject to the powers
of human comprehension than those of the sister element.
The latter are frequently subject to the
direct and manifest influence of the former, while the
effects produced by the ocean on the air are hid from
our knowledge by the subtle character of the agency.
Vague and erratic currents, it is true, are met in the
waters of the ocean; but their origin is easily referred
to the action of the winds, while we often remain in
uncertainty as to the immediate causes which give
birth to the breezes themselves. Thus the mariner,
even while the victim of the irresistible waves, studies
the heavens as the known source from whence the
danger comes; and while he struggles fearfully, amid
the strife of the elements, to preserve the balance of
the delicate and fearful machine he governs, he well
knows that the one which presents the most visible,
and to a landsman much the most formidable object
of apprehension, is but the instrument of the unseen
and powerful agent that heaps the water on his path.
It is in consequence of this difference in power,
and of the mystery that envelops the workings of the
atmosphere, that, in all ages, seamen have been the
subjects of superstition, in respect to the winds.
There is always more or less of the dependency of
ignorance, in the manner with which they have regarded
the changes of that fickle element. Even the
mariners of our own times are not exempt from this
weakness. The thoughtless ship-boy is reproved if
his whistle be heard in the howling of the gale, and
the officer sometimes betrays a feeling of uneasiness,
if at such a moment he should witness any violation
of the received opinions of his profession. He finds
himself in the situation of one whose ears have drunk
instruction has taught him to condemn, and who,
when placed in situations to awaken their recollection,
finds the necessity of drawing upon his reason,
to quiet emotions that he might hesitate to acknowledge.
When Trysail directed the attention of his young
commander to the heavens, however, it was more
with the intelligence of an experienced mariner, than
with any of the sensations to which allusion has just
been made. A cloud had suddenly appeared on the
water, and long ragged portions of the vapor were
pointing from it, in a manner to give it what seamen
term a windy appearance.
“We shall have more than we want, with this
canvas!” said the master, after both he and his commander
had studied the appearance of the mist, for
a sufficient time. “That fellow is a mortal enemy
of lofty sails; he likes to see nothing but naked sticks,
up in his neighbourhood!”
“I should think his appearance will force the
brigantine to shorten sail;” returned the Captain.
“We will hold-on to the last, while he must begin to
take in soon, or the squall will come upon him too
fast for a light-handed vessel.”
“'Tis a cruiser's advantage! And yet the rogue
shows no signs of lowering a single cloth!”
“We will look to our own spars;” said Ludlow,
turning to the lieutenant of the watch. “Call the
people up, Sir, and see all ready, for yonder cloud.”
The order was succeeded by the customary hoarse
summons of the boatswain, who prefaced the effort
of his lungs by a long, shrill winding of his call, above
the hatchways of the ship. The cry of “all hands
shorten sail, ahoy!” soon brought the crew from the
depths of the vessel to her upper deck. Each trained
seaman silently took his station; and after the
ropes were cleared, and the few necessary preparations
sounds that might next proceed from the trumpet,
which the first-lieutenant had now assumed in person.
The superiority of sailing, which a ship fitted for
war possesses over one employed in commerce, proceeds
from a variety of causes. The first is in the
construction of the hull, which in the one is as justly
fitted, as the art of naval architecture will allow, to
the double purposes of speed and buoyancy; while in
the other, the desire of gain induces great sacrifices
of these important objects, in order that the vessel
may be burthensome. Next comes the difference in
the rig, which is not only more square, but more
lofty, in a ship of war than in a trader; because the
greater force of the crew of the former enables them
to manage both spars and sails that are far heavier
than any ever used in the latter. Then comes the
greater ability of the cruiser to make and shorten
sail, since a ship manned by one or two hundred men
may safely profit by the breeze to the last moment,
while one manned by a dozen often loses hours of
a favorable wind, from the weakness of her crew.
This explanation will enable the otherwise uninitiated
reader to understand the reason why Ludlow
had hoped the coming squall would aid his designs
on the chase.
To express ourselves in nautical language, `the
Coquette held on to the last.' Ragged streaks of
vapor were whirling about in the air, within a fearful
proximity to the lofty and light sails, and the
foam on the water had got so near the ship, as already
to efface her wake; when Ludlow, who had
watched the progress of the cloud with singular coolness,
made a sign to his subordinate that the proper
instant had arrived.
“In, of all!” shouted through the trumpet, was
the only command necessary; for officers and crew
were well instructed in their duty.
The words had no sooner quitted the lips of the
lieutenant, than the steady roar of the sea was
drowned in the flapping of canvas. Tacks, sheets,
and halyards, went together; and, in less than a
minute, the cruiser showed naked spars and whistling
ropes, where so lately had been seen a cloud of
snow-white cloth. All her steering-sails came in together,
and the lofty canvas was furled to her topsails.
The latter still stood, and the vessel received
the weight of the little tempest on their broad surfaces.
The gallant ship stood the shock nobly; but,
as the wind came over the taffrail, its force had far
less influence on the hull, than on the other occasion
already described. The danger, now, was only for
her spars; and these were saved by the watchful,
though bold, vigilance of her captain.
Ludlow was no sooner certain that the cruiser felt
the force of the wind, and to gain this assurance
needed but a few moments, than he turned his eager
look on the brigantine. To the surprise of all who
witnessed her temerity, the Water-Witch still showed
all her light sails. Swiftly as the ship was now
driven through the water, its velocity was greatly
outstripped by that of the wind. The signs of the
passing squall were already visible on the sea, for
half the distance between the two vessels; and still
the chase showed no consciousness of its approach.
Her commander had evidently studied its effects on
the Coquette; and he awaited the shock, with the
coolness of one accustomed to depend on his own resources,
and able to estimate the force with which
he had to contend.
“If he hold-on a minute longer, he will get more
than he can bear, and away will go all his kites, like
smoke from the muzzle of a gun!” muttered Trysail.
“Ah! there come down his studding-sails—ha!
settle away the mainsail—in royal, and top-gallant-sail,
as pickpockets in a crowd!”
The honest master has sufficiently described the
precautions taken on board of the brigantine. Nothing
was furled; but as every thing was hauled
up, or lowered, the squall had little to waste its fury
on. The diminished surfaces of the sails protected
the spars, while the canvas was saved by the aid of
cordage. After a few moments of pause, half-a-dozen
men were seen busied in more effectually securing
the few upper and lighter sails.
But though the boldness with which the `Skimmer
of the Seas' carried sail to the last, was justified by
the result, still the effects of the increased wind and
rising waves on the progress of the two vessels, grew
more sensible. While the little and low brigantine
began to labor and roll, the Coquette rode the element
with buoyancy, and consequently with less resistance
from the water. Twenty minutes, during
which the force of the wind was but little lessened,
brought the cruiser so near the chase, as to enable
her crew to distinguish most of the smaller objects
that were visible above her ridge-ropes.
“Blow winds, and crack your cheeks!” said Ludlow,
in an under tone, the excitement of the chase
growing with the hopes of success. “I ask but one
half-hour, and then shift at your pleasure!”
“Blow, good devil, and you shall have the cook!”
muttered Trysail, quoting a very different author.
“Another glass will bring us within hail.”
“The squall is leaving us!” interrupted the captain.
“Pack on the ship, again, Mr. Luff, from her
trucks to her ridge-ropes!”
The whistle of the boatswain was again heard
at the hatchways, and the hoarse summons of `all
hands make sail, ahoy!' once more called the people
to their stations. The sails were set, with a rapidity
which nearly equalled the speed with which they
was scarcely off the ship, before its complicated volumes
of canvas were spread, to catch what remained.
On the other hand, the chase, even more hardy
than the cruiser, did not wait for the end of the
squall; but, profiting by the notice given by the
latter, the `Skimmer of the Seas' began to sway
his yards aloft, while the sea was still white with
foam.
“The quick-sighted rogue knows we are done
with it,” said Trysail; “and he is getting ready for
his own turn. We gain but little of him, notwithstanding
our muster of hands.”
The fact was too true to be denied, for the brigantine
was again under all her canvas, before the ship
had sensibly profited by her superior physical force.
It was at this moment, when, perhaps, in consequence
of the swell on the water, the Coquette might have
possessed some small advantage, that the wind suddenly
failed. The squall had been its expiring effort;
and, within an hour after the two vessels had again
made sail, the canvas was flapping against the masts,
in a manner to throw back, in eddies, a force as great
as that it received. The sea fell fast, and ere the end
of the last or forenoon watch, the surface of the ocean
was agitated only by those long undulating swells,
that seldom leave it entirely without motion. For
some little time, there were fickle currents of air
playing in various directions about the ship, but always
in sufficient force to urge her slowly through the
water; and then, when the equilibrium of the element
seemed established, there was a total calm.
During the half-hour of the baffling winds, the brigantine
had been a gainer, though not enough to carry
her entirely beyond the reach of the cruiser's guns.
“Haul up the courses!” said Ludlow, when the
last breath of wind had been felt on the ship, and
quitting the gun where he had long stood, watching
water, Mr. Luff, and arm their crews.”
The young commander issued this order, which
needed no interpreter to explain its object, firmly,
but in sadness. His face was thoughtful, and his whole
air was that of a man who yielded to an imperative
but an unpleasant duty. When he had spoken, he
signed to the attentive Alderman and his friend to
follow, and entered his cabin.
“There is no alternative,” continued Ludlow, as
he laid the glass, which so often that morning had
been at his eye, on the table, and threw himself into
a chair. “This rover must be seized at every hazard,
and here is a favorable occasion to carry him
by boarding. Twenty minutes will bring us to his
side, and five more will put us in possession; but—”
“You think the Skimmer is not a man to receive
such visiters with an old woman's welcome;” pithily
observed Myndert.
“I much mistake the man, if he yield so beautiful
a vessel, peacefully. Duty is imperative on a seaman,
Alderman Van Beverout; and, much as I lament
the circumstance, it must be obeyed.”
“I understand you, Sir. Captain Ludlow has two
mistresses, Queen Anne and the daughter of old
Etienne de Barbérie. He fears both. When the
debts exceed the means of payment, it would seem
wise to offer to compound; and, in this case, Her
Majesty and my niece may be said to stand in the
case of creditors.”
“You mistake my meaning, Sir;” said Ludlow,
proudly. “There can be no composition between a
faithful officer and his duty, nor do I acknowledge
more than one mistress in my ship—but seamen are
little to be trusted in the moment of success, and
with their passions awakened by resistance.—Alderman
Van Beverout, will you accompany the party,
and serve as mediator?”
“Pikes and hand-grenades! Am I a fit subject for
mounting the sides of a smuggler, with a broadsword
between my teeth! If you will put me into the
smallest and most peaceable of your boats, with a
crew of two boys, that I can control with the authority
of a magistrate, and covenant to remain here
with your three topsails aback, having always a flag
of truce at each mast, I will bear the olive-branch to
the brigantine, but not a word of menace. If report
speaks true, your `Skimmer of the Seas' is no lover
of threats, and Heaven forbid that I should do violence
to any man's habits! I will go forth as your
turtle-dove, Captain Ludlow; but not one foot will I
proceed as your Goliath.”
“And you equally refuse endeavoring to avert hostilities?”
continued Ludlow, turning his look on the
Patroon of Kinderhook.
“I am the Queen's subject, and ready to aid in
supporting the laws;” quietly returned Oloff Van
Staats.
“Patroon!” exclaimed his watchful friend; “you
know not what you say! If there were question of
an inroad of Mohawks, or an invasion from the Canadas,
the case would differ; but this is only a trifling
difference, concerning a small balance in the revenue
duties, which had better be left to your tide-waiter,
and the other wild-cats of the law. If Parliament
will put temptation before our eyes, let the sin light
on their own heads. Human nature is weak, and
the vanities of our system are so many inducements
to overlook unreasonable regulations. I say, therefore,
it is better to remain in peace, on board this
ship, where our characters will be as safe as our
bones, and trust to Providence for what will happen.”
“I am the Queen's subject, and ready to uphold
her dignity;” repeated Oloff, firmly.
“I will trust you, Sir;” said Ludlow, taking his
The conference was soon ended, and a midshipman
shortly after reported that the boats were ready for
service. The master was next summoned to the cabin
and admitted to the private apartment of his commander.
Ludlow then proceeded to the deck, where
he made the final dispositions for the attack. The
ship was left in charge of Mr. Luff, with an injunction
to profit by any breeze that might offer, to draw
as near as possible to the chase. Trysail was placed
in the launch, at the head of a strong party of boarders.
Van Staats of Kinderhook was provided with
the yawl, manned only by its customary crew; while
Ludlow entered his own barge, which contained its
usual complement, though the arms that lay in the
stern-sheets sufficiently showed that they were prepared
for service.
The launch, being the soonest ready, and of much
the heaviest movement, was the first to quit the side
of the Coquette. The master steered directly for the
becalmed and motionless brigantine. Ludlow took
a more circuitous course, apparently with an intention
of causing such a diversion as might distract the
attention of the crew of the smuggler, and with the
view of reaching the point of attack at the same
moment with the boat that contained his principal
force. The yawl also inclined from the straight line,
steering as much on one side as the barge diverged
on the other. In this manner the men pulled in silence
for some twenty minutes,—the motion of the
larger boat, which was heavily charged, being slow
and difficult. At the end of this period, a signal was
made from the barge, when all the men ceased rowing
and prepared themselves for the struggle. The
launch was within pistol-shot of the brigantine, and
directly on her beam; the yawl had gained her head
where Van Staats of Kinderhook was studying the
that seemed to increase as his sluggish nature became
excited; and Ludlow, on the quarter opposite
to the launch, was examining the condition of the
chase by the aid of a glass. Trysail profited by the
pause, to address his followers:
“This is an expedition in boats,” commenced the
accurate and circumstantial master, “made in smooth
water, with little, or one may say no wind, in the
month of June, and on the coast of North America.
You are not such a set of know-nothings, men, as to
suppose the launch has been hoisted out, and two of
the oldest, not to say best seamen, on the quarter-deck
of Her Majesty's ship, have gone in boats, without
the intention of doing something more than to
ask the name and character of the brig in sight. The
smallest of the young gentlemen might have done
that duty, as well as the captain, or myself. It is the
belief of those who are best informed, that the stranger,
who has the impudence to lie quietly within long
range of a royal cruiser, without showing his colors,
is neither more nor less than the famous `Skimmer
of the Seas;' a man against whose seamanship I will
say nothing, but who has none of the best reputation
for honesty, as relates to the Queen's revenue. No
doubt you have heard many extraordinary accounts
of the exploits of this rover, some of which seem to
insinuate, that the fellow has a private understanding
with those who manage their transactions in a
less religious manner than it may be supposed is done
by the bench of bishops. But what of that? You
are hearty Englishmen, who know what belongs to
church and state; and, d—e, you are not the boys
to be frightened by a little witchcraft. [a cheer] Ay,
that is intelligible and reasonable language, and such
as satisfies me you understand the subject. I shall
say no more, than just to add, that Captain Ludlow
desires there may be no indecent language, nor, for
the brigantine, over and above the knocking on the
head, and cutting of throats, that may be necessary
to take her. In this particular you will take example
by me, who, being older, have more experience
than most of you, and who, in all reason, should better
know when and where to show his manhood. Lay
about you like men, so long as the free-traders stand
to their quarters—but remember mercy, in the hour
of victory! You will on no account enter the cabins;
on this head my orders are explicit, and I shall make
no more of throwing the man into the sea, who dares
to transgress them, than if he were a dead Frenchman;
and, as we now clearly understand each other,
and know our duty so well, there remains no more
than to do it. I have said nothing of the prize-money,
[a cheer] seeing you are men that love the Queen
and her honor, more than lucre, [a cheer]; but this
much I can safely promise, that there will be the
usual division, [a cheer] and as there is little doubt
but the rogues have driven a profitable trade, why
the sum-total is likely to be no trifle.” [Three hearty
cheers.]
The report of a pistol from the barge, which was
immediately followed by a gun from the cruiser,
whose shot came whistling between the masts of the
Water-Witch, was the signal to resort to the ordinary
means of victory. The master cheered, in his turn;
and in a full, steady, and deep voice, he gave the
order to `pull away!' At the same instant, the barge
and yawl were seen advancing towards the object
of their common attack, with a velocity that promised
to bring the event to a speedy issue.
Throughout the whole of the preparations in and
about the Coquette, since the moment when the
breeze failed, nothing had been seen of the crew of
the brigantine. The beautiful fabric lay rolling on
the heaving and setting waters; but no human form
arrangements that seemed so necessary for her defence.
The sails continued hanging as they had been
left by the breeze, and the hull was floating at the
will of the waves. This deep quiet was undisturbed
by the approach of the boats; and if the desperate
individual, who was known to command the free-trader,
had any intentions of resistance, they had
been entirely hid from the long and anxious gaze of
Ludlow. Even the shouts, and the dashing of the
oars on the water, when the boats commenced their
final advance, produced no change on the decks of
the chase; though the commander of the Coquette
saw her head-yards slowly and steadily changing
their direction. Uncertain of the object of this
movement, he rose on the seat of his boat, and,
waving his hat, cheered the men to greater exertion.
The barge had got within a hundred feet of the
broadside of the brigantine, when the whole of her
wide folds of canvas were seen swelling outwards.
The exquisitely-ordered machinery of spars, sails,
and rigging, bowed towards the barge, as in the act
of a graceful leave-taking, and then the light hull
glided ahead, leaving the boat to plow through the
empty space which it had just occupied. There
needed no second look to assure Ludlow of the inefficacy
of further pursuit, since the sea was already
ruffled by the breeze which had so opportunely come
to aid the smuggler. He signed to Trysail to desist;
and both stood looking, with disappointed eyes, at the
white and bubbling streak which was left by the
wake of the fugitive.
But while the Water-Witch left the boats, commanded
by the captain and master of the Queen's
cruiser, behind her, she steered directly on the course
that was necessary to bring her soonest in contact
with the yawl. For a few moments, the crew of the
latter believed it was their own advance that brought
midshipman who steered the boat discovered his
error, it was only in season to prevent the swift brigantine
from passing over his little bark. He gave
the yawl a wide sheer, and called to his men to pull
for their lives Oloff Van Staats had placed himself
at the head of the boat, armed with a hanger, and
with every faculty too intent on the expected attack,
to heed a danger that was scarcely intelligible to one
of his habits. As the brigantine glided past, he saw
her low channels bending towards the water, and,
with a powerful effort, he leaped into them, shouting
a sort of war-cry, in Dutch. At the next instant, he
threw his large frame over the bulwarks, and disappeared
on the deck of the smuggler.
When Ludlow had caused his boats to assemble
on the spot which the chase had so lately occupied,
he saw that the fruitless expedition had been attended
by no other casualty than the involuntary abduction
of the Patroon of Kinderhook.
| CHAPTER III. The water-witch, or, The skimmer of the seas | |