 | CHAPTER XIV. The pilot |  |
14. CHAPTER XIV.
Hamlet.
During the time occupied by the incidents that
occurred after the Pilot had made his descent on
the land, the Alacrity, now under the orders of Mr.
Boltrope, the master of the frigate, lay off and on,
in readiness to receive the successful mariners.
The direction of the wind had been gradually
changing from the north-east to the south, during
the close of the day; and long before the middle
watches of the night, the wary old seaman, who,
it may be remembered, had expressed, in the council
of war, such a determined reluctance to trust his
person within the realm of Britain, ordered the
man who steered the cutter to stand in boldly for
the land. Whenever the lead told them that it was
prudent to tack, the course of the vessel was changed;
and in this manner the seamen continued to
employ the hours in patient attendance on the
adventurers. The sailing-master, who had spent
the early years of his life as the commander of
divers vessels employed in trading, was apt, like
many men of his vocation and origin, to mistake
the absence of refinement for the surest evidence of
courtesies and punctilios of a man-of-war in high disdain.
His peculiar duties of superintending the expenditure
of the ship's stores, in their several departments;
of keeping the frigate's log-book; and of
making his daily examinations into the state of her
sails and rigging, brought him so little in collision
with the gay, laughing, reckless young lieutenants,
who superintended the usual conduct of the vessel,
that he might be said to have formed a distinct species
of the animal, though certainly of the same genus
with his more polished messmates. Whenever
circumstances, however, required that he should depart
from the dull routine of his duty, he made it a
rule, as far as possible, to associate himself with
such of the crew as possessed habits and opinions
the least at variance with his own.
By a singular fatality, the chaplain of the frigate
was, as respects associates, in a condition, nearly
assimilated to that of this veteran tar.
An earnest desire to ameliorate the situation of
those who were doomed to meet death on the
great deep, had induced an inexperienced and
simple-hearted divine to accept this station, in the
fond hope, that he might be made the favoured instrument
of salvation to many, who were then existing
in a state of the most abandoned self-forgetfulness.
Neither our limits, nor our present object,
will permit the relation of the many causes that
led, not only to an entire frustration of all his visionary
expectations, but to an issue which rendered
the struggle of the good divine with himself both
arduous and ominous, in order to maintain his own
claims to the merited distinctions of his sacred office.
The consciousness of his backsliding had so far
lessened the earthly, if not the spiritual pride of
the chaplain, as to induce him to relish the society
of the rude master, whose years had brought him
were singularly affected by the peculiar character of
the individual. It might have been that both found
themselves out of their places—but it was owing to
some such secret sympathy, let its origin be what
it would, that the two came to be fond of each other's
company. On the night in question, Mr. Boltrope
had invited the chaplain to accompany him
in the Alacrity; adding, in his broad, rough language,
that as there was to be fighting on shore,
“his hand might come in play with some poor
fellow or other.” This singular invitation had
been accepted, as well from a desire to relieve the
monotony of a sea life, by any change, as perhaps
with a secret yearning in the breast of the
troubled divine, to get as nigh to terra firma as
possible. Accordingly, after the Pilot had landed
with his boisterous party, the sailing-master and
the chaplain, together with a boatswain's-mate and
some ten or twelve seamen, were left in quiet possession
of the cutter. The first few hours of
this peaceable intercourse, had been spent by the
worthy messmates, in the little cabin of the vessel,
over a can of grog, the savoury relish of which
was much increased by a characteristic disquisition
on polemical subjects, which our readers have
great reason to regret it is not our present humour
to record. When, however, the winds invited the
nearer approach to the hostile shores already
mentioned, the prudent sailing-master adjourned
the discussion to another and more suitable time,
removing himself and the can, by the same operation,
to the quarter-deck.
“There,” cried the honest tar, placing the wooden
vessel, with great self-contentment, by his side
on the deck, “this is ship's comfort! There is a
good deal of what I call a lubber's fuss, parson,
which bears, about three leagues distant, broad off in
the oceam, and which is lying-to under a close-reefed
maintopsail, a foretopmast-staysail and foresail—
I call my hand a true one in mixing a can—take
another pull at the halyards! 'twill make your
eye twinkle like a light-house, this dark morning!
You wont? well we must give no offence to the
Englishman's rum.”—After a potent draught had
succeeded this considerate declaration, he added
—“You are a little like our first lieutenant, parson,
who drinks, as I call it, nothing but the elements—which
is, water stiffened with air!”
“Mr. Griffith may indeed be said to set a wholesome
example to the crew,” returned the chaplain,
perhaps with a slight consciousness that it had
not altogether possessed its due weight with himself.
“Wholesome!” cried Boltrope; “let me tell
you, my worthy leaf-turner, that if you call such
a light diet wholesome, you know but little of salt
water and sea-fogs! However, Mr. Griffith is a
seaman; and if he gave his mind less to trifles and
gimcracks, he would be, by the time he got to
about our years, a very rational sort of a companion.—But
you see, parson, just now, he thinks
too much of small follies; such as man-of-war disciplyne.—Now
there is rationality in giving a fresh
nip to a rope, or in looking well at your mats, or
even in crowning a cable; but damme, priest, if I
see the use—luff, luff, ye lubber; don't ye see,
sir, you are steering for Garmany!—if I see the
use, as I was saying, of making a rumpus about
the time when a man changes his shirt; whether it be
this week, or next week, or for that matter, the week
after, provided it be bad weather. I sometimes am
mawkish about attending muster, (and I believe I
have as little to fear on the score of behaviour as
tobacco in the wrong cheek!
“I have indeed thought it somewhat troublesome
to myself, at times; and it is in a striking degree
vexatious to the spirit, especially when the body
has been suffering under sea-sickness.”
“Why, yes, you were a little apt to bend your
duds wrong for the first month, or so,” said the
master; “I remember you got the marine's scraper
on your head, once, in your hurry to bury a
dead man! Then you never looked as if you belonged
to the ship, so long as those cursed black
knee-breeches lasted! For my part, I never saw
you come up the quarter-deck ladder, but I expected
to see your shins give way across the combing of
the hatch—a man does look like the devil, priest,
scudding about a ship's decks in that fashion, under
bare poles! But now the tailor has found out the
articles ar'n't sea-worthy, and we have got your
lower stanchions cased in a pair of purser's slops,
I am puzzled often to tell your heels from those of
a main-top-man!”
“I have good reason to be thankful for the
change,” said the humbled priest, “if the resemblance
you mention existed, while I was clad in
the usual garb of one of my calling.”
“What signifies a calling?” returned Boltrope,
catching his breath after a most persevering
draught; “a man's shins are his shins, let his upper
works belong to what sarvice they may. I
took an early prejudyce against knee-breeches,
perhaps from a trick I've always had of figuring
the Devil as wearing them. You know, parson,
we seldom hear much said of a man, without forming
some sort of an idea concerning his rigging
and fashion-pieces—and so as I had no particular
reason to believe that Satan went naked—keep full
and be d—d to ye!—but as I was saying, I always
took a conceit that the devil wore knee-breeches and
a cock'd hat. There's some of our young lieutenants,
who come to muster on Sundays in cock'd hats,
just like soldier-officers; but, d'ye see, I would
sooner show my nose under a night cap, than under
a scraper!”
“I hear the sound of oars!” exclaimed the chaplain,
who finding this image more distinct than
even his own vivid conceptions of the great Father
of evil, was quite willing to conceal his inferiority
by changing the discourse—“Is not one of our
boats returning?”
“Ay, ay, 'tis likely; if it had been me, I should
have been land-sick before this—wear round, boys,
and stand by to heave-to on the other tack.”
The cutter, obedient to her helm, fell off before
the wind, and rolling an instant in the trough of
the sea, came up again easily to her oblique position,
with her head towards the cliffs, and gradually
losing her way, as her sails were brought to
counteract each other, finally became stationary.
During the performance of this evolution, a boat
had hove up out of the gloom, in the direction of
the land, and by the time the Alacrity was in a
state of rest, it had approached so nigh as to admit
of hailing.
“Boat ahoy!” murmured Boltrope, through
a trumpet, which, aided by his lungs, produced
sounds not unlike the roaring of a bull.
“Ay, ay,” was thrown back from a clear voice,
that swept across the water with a fulness that
needed no factitious aid to render it audible.
“Ay, there comes one of the lieutenants, with
his ay, ay,” said Boltrope—“pipe the side, there,
more on our quarter! boat a-hoy!”
“Alacrity”—returned another voice, in a direction
different from the other.
“Alacrity! There goes my commission of Captain
of this craft, in a whiff,” returned the sailing-master.—“That
is as much as to say, here
comes one, who will command when he gets on
board. Well, well, it is Mr. Griffith, and I can't
say, notwithstanding his love of knee-buckles, and
small wares, but I'm glad he is out of the hands of
the English! Ay, here they all come upon us at
once! here is another fellow, that pulls like the jolly-boat,
coming up on our lee-beam, within hail—
let us see if he is asleep—boat a-hoy!
“Flag,” answered a third voice from a small,
light-rowing boat which had approached very near
the cutter, in a direct line from the cliffs, without
being observed.”
“Flag!” echoed Boltrope, dropping his trumpet
in amazement—“that's a big word to come out
of a jolly-boat! Jack Manly himself could not
have spoke it with a fuller mouth—but I'll know
who it is that carries such a weather helm, with a
Yankee man-of-war's prize! Boat a-hoy! I say.”
This last call was uttered in those short menacing
tones, that are intended to be understood as
intimating that the party hailing is in earnest; and
it caused the men who were rowing, and who
were now quite close to the cutter, to suspend their
strokes, simultaneously, as if they dreaded
that the cry would be instantly succeeded by
some more efficient means of ascertaining their
character. The figure that was seated by itself
in the stern of the boat, started at this second
summons, and then, as if with sudden recollection, a
quiet voice replied—
“No—no.”
“`No—no,' and `flag,' are very different answers,”
grumbled Boltrope; “what know-nothing
have we here!”
He was yet muttering his dissatisfaction at the
ignorance of the individual that was approaching,
whoever it might be, when the jolly-boat came
slowly to their side, and the Pilot stepped from
her stern-sheets on the decks of the prize.
“Is it you, Mr. Pilot?” exclaimed the sailing-master,
raising a battle lantern within a foot of the
other's face, and looking with a sort of stupid wonder
at the proud and angry eye he encountered—
“is it you! well, I should have rated you for
a man of more experience than to come booming
down upon a man-of-war in the dark, with such a
big word in your mouth, when every boy in the
two vessels knows that we carry no swallow-tailed
bunting abroad! Flag! why you might have got
a shot, had there been soldiers.”
The Pilot threw him a still fiercer glance, and
turning away with a look of disgust, he walked
along the quarter-deck towards the stern of the
vessel, with an air of haughty silence, as if disdaining
to answer. Boltrope kept his eyes
fastened on him for a moment longer, with some
appearance of scorn, but the arrival of the
boat first hailed, which proved to be the barge,
immediately drew his attention to other matters.
Barnstable had been rowing about in the ocean
for a long time, unable to find the cutter, and as
he had been compelled to suit his own demeanour
to those with whom he was associated, he reached
the Alacrity in no very good-humoured
mood. Col. Howard and his niece had maintained,
during the whole period, the most rigid silence,
her uncle's evident displeasure; and Katherine,
though secretly elated with the success of all
her projects, was content to emulate their demeanour
for a short time, in order to save appearances.
Barnstable had several times addressed
himself to the latter, without receiving any other
answer than such as was absolutely necessary to prevent
the lover from taking direct offence, at the
same time that she intimated by her manner her
willingness to remain silent. Accordingly, the
lieutenant, after aiding the ladies to enter the
cutter, and offering to perform the same service
to Col. Howard, which was coldly declined,
turned, with that sort of irritation that is by no
means less rare in vessels of war than with poor
human nature generally, and gave vent to his
spleen where he dared.
“How's this! Mr. Boltrope!” he cried, “here
are boats coming alongside with ladies in them,
and you keep your gaft swayed up till the leach
of the sail is stretched like a fiddle-string—settle
away your peak-halyards, sir, settle away!”
“Ay, ay, sir,” grumbled the master; “settle
away that peak there; though the craft wouldn't
forge ahead a knot in a month, with all her gibs
hauled over!” He walked sulkily forward among
the men, followed by the meek divine; and added,
“I should as soon have expected to see Mr.
Barnstable come off with a live ox in his boat as
a petticoat! The Lord only knows what the
ship is coming to next, parson! what between
cocked hats and epaulettes, and other knee-buckle
matters, she was a sort of no-mans-land before,
and now, what with the women, and their ban-boxes,
I wonder they didn't all come aboard in a coach
and six, or a one horse shay!”
It was a surprising relief to Barnstable to be able
to give utterance to his humour, for a few moments,
by ordering the men to make sundry alterations
in every department of the vessel, in a quick,
hurried voice, that abundantly denoted, not only
the importance of his improvements, but the temper
in which they were dictated. In his turn,
however, he was soon compelled to give way by
the arrival of Griffith, in the heavily rowing launch
of the frigate, which was crowded with a larger
body of the seamen who had been employed
in the expedition. In this manner, boat after boat
speedily arrived, and the whole party were once
more happily embarked in safety, under their national
flag.
The small cabin of the Alacrity was relinquished
to Col. Howard and his wards, with their attendants.
The boats were dropped astern,
each protected by its own keeper; and Griffith
gave forth the mandate, to fill the sails and steer
broad off into the ocean. For more than an hour the
cutter held her course in this direction, gliding
gracefully through the glittering waters, rising and
settling heavily on the long, smooth billows, as if
conscious of the unusual burden that she was
doomed to carry; but at the end of that period,
her head was once more brought near the wind,
and she was again held at rest; awaiting the appearance
of the dawn, in order to discover the position
of the prouder vessel, on which she was performing
the humble duty of a tender. More than a
hundred and fifty living men were crowded within
her narrow limits; and her decks presented, in
mass of human heads.
As the freedom of a successful expedition was
unavoidably permitted, loud jokes, and louder
merriment, broke on the silent waters, from the
reckless seamen, while the exhilarating can passed
from hand to hand, strange oaths, and dreadful
denunciations breaking forth, at times, from some
of the excited crew against their enemy. At
length the bustle of re-embarking gradually subsied,
and many of the crew descended to the hold
of the cutter, in quest of room to stretch their limbs,
when a clear, manly voice, was heard rising above
the deep in those strains that a seaman most loves
to hear. Air succeeded air, from different voices,
until even the spirit of harmony grew dull with
fatigue, and verses began to be heard where songs
were expected, and fleeting lines succeeded stanzas.
The decks were soon covered with prostrate men,
seeking their natural rest, under the open heavens,
and perhaps dreaming, as they yielded heavily to
the rolling of the vessel, of the scenes of other
times in their own hemisphere. The dark glances of
Katherine were concealed beneath her falling lids;
and even Cecilia, with her head bowed on the
shoulder of her cousin, slept sweetly in innocence
and peace. Boltrope groped his way into the
hold among the seamen, where, kicking one of the
most fortunate of the men from his birth, he established
himself in his place, with all that cool indifference
to the other's comfort, that had grown
with his experience, from the time when he was treated
thus cavalierly in his own person, to the present
moment. In this manner, head was dropped after
head, on the planks, the guns, or on whatever first
offered for a pillow, until Griffith and Barnstable,
quarter-deck, in haughty silence.
Never did a morning watch appear so long to
the two young sailors, who were thus deprived, by
resentment and pride, of that frank and friendly
communion, that had for so many years sweetened
the tedious hours of their long, and at times,
dreary service. To increase the embarrassment of
their situation, Cecilia and Katherine, suffering
from the confinement of the small and crowded
cabin, sought the purer air of the deck, about the
time when the deepest sleep had settled on the
senses of the wearied mariners. They stood, leaning
against the taffrail, discoursing with each
other, in low and broken sentences; but a sort of
instinctive knowledge of the embarrassment which
existed between their lovers, caused a guarded control
over every look or gesture which might be
construed into an encouragement for one of the
young men to advance at the expense of the other.
Twenty times, however, did the impatient Barnstable
feel tempted to throw off the awkward restraint,
and approach his mistress; but in each
instance was he checked by the secret consciousness
of error, as well as by that habitual respect for
superior rank that forms a part of the nature of a
sea-officer. On the other hand, Griffith manifested
no intention to profit by this silent concession in
his favour, but continued to pace the short quarter-deck
with strides more hurried than ever; and
was seen to throw many an impatient glance towards
that quarter of the heavens, where the first
signs of the lingering day might be expected to
appear. At length Katherine, with a ready ingenuity,
and perhaps with some secret coquetry, removed
the embarrassment, by speaking first, taking
care to address the lover of her cousin—
“How long are we condemned to these limited
lodgings, Mr. Griffith?” she asked; “truly, there
is a freedom in your nautical customs, which, to
say the least, is novel to us females, who have been
accustomed to the division of space!”
“The instant that there is light to discover the
frigate, Miss Plowden,” he answered, “you
shall be transferred from a vessel of an hundred,
to one of twelve hundred tons. If your situation
there be less comfortable, than when within the
walls of St. Ruth, you will not forget that they
who live on the ocean, claim it as a merit to despise
the luxuries of the land.”
“At least, sir,” returned Katherine, with a sweet
grace, which she well knew how to assume on occasion,
“what we shall enjoy will be sweetened
by liberty, and embellished by a sailor's hospitality.
To me, Cicely, the air of this open sea is as fresh
and invigorating, as if it were wafted from our own
distant America!”
“If you have not the arm of a patriot, you
at least possess a most loyal imagination, Miss
Plowden,” said Griffith, laughing; “this soft
breeze blows in the direction of the fens of Holland,
instead of the broad plains of America.—
Thank God, there come the signs of day, at last!
unless the currents have swept the ship far to the
north, we shall surely see her with the light.”
This cheering intelligence drew the eyes of the
fair cousins towards the east, where their delighted
looks were long fastened, while they watched the
glories of the sun rising over the water. As the
morning had advanced, a deeper gloom was spread
across the ocean, and the stars were gleaming in
the heavens, like balls of twinkling fire. But now,
a streak of pale light showed itself along the
horizon, growing brighter, and widening at each
where nothing had been seen before but the dim
base of the arch that overhung the dark waters.
This expanding light, which, in appearance, might
be compared to a silvery opening in the heavens,
was soon tinged with a pale flush, which quickened
with sudden transitions into glows yet
deeper, until a belt of broad flame bounded the
water, diffusing itself more faintly towards the
zenith, where it melted into the pearl-coloured
sky, or played on the fantastic volumes of a few
light clouds with inconstant glimmering. While
these beautiful transitions were still before the eyes
of the youthful admirers of their beauties, a voice was
heard above them, crying as if from the heavens—
“Sail—ho! The frigate lies broad off to seaward,
sir!”
“Ay, ay; you have been watching with one eye
asleep, fellow,” returned Griffith, “or we should
have heard you before! Look a little north of
the place where the glare of the sun is coming,
Miss Plowden, and you will be able to see our
gallant vessel.”
An involuntary cry of pleasure burst from the
lips of Katherine, as she followed his directions,
and first beheld the frigate through the medium of
the fluctuating colours of the morning. The undulating
outline of the lazy ocean, which rose and
fell heavily against the bright boundary of the
heavens, was without any relief to distract the eye,
as it fed eagerly on the beauties of the solitary
ship. She was riding sluggishly on the long seas,
with only two of her lower and smaller sails
spread, to hold her in command; but her tall
masts and heavy yards were painted against the
fiery sky, in strong lines of deep black, while
even the smallest cord in the mazes of her rigging,
spar, with the beautiful accuracy of a picture. At
moments, when her huge hull rose on a billow, and
was lifted against the back ground of sky, its shape
and dimensions were brought into view, but these
transient glimpses were soon lost, as it settled into
the trough, leaving the waving spars bowing gracefully
towards the waters, as if about to follow the
vessel into the bosom of the deep. As a clearer light
gradually stole on the senses, the delusion of colours
and distance vanished together, and when a
flood of day preceded the immediate appearance of
the sun, the ship became plainly visible, within a mile
of the cutter, her black hull checkered with ports,
and her high tapering masts exhibiting their proper
proportions and hues.
At the first cry of “a sail,” the crew of the
Alacrity had been aroused from their slumbers, by
the shrill whistle of the boatswain, and long before
the admiring looks of the two cousins had ceased
to dwell on the fascinating sight of morning
chasing night from the hemisphere, the cutter was
again in motion to join her consort. It seemed
but a moment before their little vessel was in what
the timid females thought, a dangerous proximity
to the frigate, under whose lee she slowly passed,
in order to admit of the following dialogue between
Griffith and his aged commander:
“I rejoice to see you, Mr. Griffith!” cried the
captain, who stood in the channel of his ship,
waving his hat, in the way of cordial greeting.
“You are welcome back, Capt. Manual; welcome,
welcome, all of you, my boys! as welcome as a
breeze in the calm latitudes.” As his eye, however,
passed along the deck of the Alacrity, it encountered
the shrinking figures of Cecilia and
his decent features, while he added—“How's this,
gentlemen! The frigate of Congress is neither a
ball-room, nor a church, that it is to be thronged
with women!”
“Ay, ay,” muttered Boltrope to his friend the
chaplain, “now the old man has hauled out his
mizzen, you'll see him carry a weather helm!
He wakes up about as often as the trades shift their
points, and that's once in six months. But when
there has been a neap-tide in his temper for any
time, you're sure to find it followed by a flood with
a vengeance. Let us hear what the first lieutenant
can say in favour of his petticoat quality!”
The blushing sky had not exhibited a more
fiery glow, than gleamed in the fine face of Griffith
for a moment; but struggling with his disgust,
he answered with bitter emphasis—
“'Twas the pleasure of Mr. Gray, sir, to bring
off the prisoners.”
“Of Mr. Gray!” repeated the captain, instantly
losing every trace of displeasure, in an air of
acquiescence. “Come-to, sir, on the same tack
with the ship, and I will hasten to order the accommodation
ladder rigged, to receive our guests!”
Boltrope listened to this sudden alteration in
the language of his commander, with sufficient
wonder; nor was it until he had shaken his head
repeatedly, with the manner of one who saw deeper
than his neighbours into a mystery, that he
found leisure to observe—
“Now, parson, I suppose if you held an almanack
in your fist, you'd think you could tell which
way we shall have the wind to-morrow! but damn
me, priest, if better calculators than you havn't
failed! Because a lubberly—no, he's a thorough
seaman, I'll say that for the fellow!—because a
the ship is to be so cluttered with she-cattle,
that a man will be obligated to spend half his time
in making his manners! Now mind what I tell
you, priest, this very frolic will cost Congress the
price of a year's wages for an able-bodied seaman,
in bunting and canvass for screens; besides the
wear and tear of running-gear in shortening sail, in
order that the women need not be 'stericky in
squalls!”
The presence of Mr. Boltrope being required,
to take charge of the cutter, the divine was denied
an opportunity of dissenting from the opinions of
his rough companion; for the loveliness of their
novel shipmates, had not failed to plead loudly in
their favour, with every man in the cutter whose
habits and ideas had not become rigidly set
in obstinacy.
By the time the Alacrity was hove-to, with her
head towards the frigate, the long line of boats
that she had been towing during the latter part
of the night, were brought to her side, and filled
with men. A wild scene of unbridled merriment
and gayety succeeded, while the seamen
were exchanging the confinement of the prize
for their accustomed lodgings in the ship,
during which the reins of discipline were slightly
relaxed. Loud laughter was echoed from boat to
boat, as they glided by each other; and rude
jests, interlarded with quaint humours and strange
oaths, were freely bandied from mouth to mouth.
The noise, however, soon ceased, and the passage
of Col. Howard and his wards was then effected,
with less precipitancy, and due decorum. Capt.
Munson, who had been holding a secret dialogue
with Griffith and the Pilot, received his unexpected
evident desire to be civil. He politely yielded
to their service his two convenient state-rooms,
and invited them to partake, in common with
himself, of the comforts of the great cabin.
| CHAPTER XIV. The pilot | |