University of Virginia Library

11. CHAPTER XI.

Park.

The Montauk now lay close to the inlet, and even a little
to windward of its entrance; but the channel was crooked,
not a sail was bent, nor was it possible to bend one properly
without exposing the men to the muskets of the Arabs, who,
from firing loosely, had got to be more wary and deliberate,
aiming at the places where a head or an arm was occasionally
seen. To prolong this state of things was merely to
increase the evil, and Captain Truck determined to make an
effort at once to dislodge his enemies.

With this view the gun was loaded in-board, filled nearly
to the muzzle with slugs, and then it was raised with care to
the top-gallant-forecastle, and cautiously pushed forward near
the gunwale. Had the barbarians understood the construction

of a vessel, they might have destroyed half the packet's
crew while they were thus engaged about the forecastle by
firing through the planks; but, ignorant of the weakness of
the defences, they aimed altogether at the openings, or over
the rails.

By lowering the gaff the spanker was imperfectly bent;
that is to say, it was bent on the upper leach. The boom
was got in under cover of the hurricane-house, and of the
bundle of the sail; the out-hauler was bent, the boom replaced,
the sail being hoisted with a little and a hurried lacing to the
luff. This was not effected without a good deal of hazard,
though the nearness of the bows of the vessel to the rocks prevented
most of the Arabs from perceiving what passed so far
aft. Still, others nearer to the shore caught glimpses of the
actors, and several narrow escapes were the consequence.
The second mate, in particular, had a shot through his hat
within an inch of his head. By a little management, notwithstanding,
the luff of the spanker was made to stand
tolerably well; and the ship had at least the benefit of this
one sail.

The Dane had been a seaman of the old school; and, instead
of the more modern spenser, his ship had been fitted
with old-fashioned stay-sails. Of these it was possible to
bend the main and mizzen stay-sails in tolerable security, provided
the ends of the halyards could be got down. As this,
however, would be nearly all aftersail, the captain determined
to make an effort to overhaul the buntlines and
leachlines of the foresail, at the same time that men were
sent aloft after the ends of the halyards. He also thought
it possible to set a fore-topmast staysail flying.

No one was deceived in this matter. The danger and the
mode of operating were explained clearly, and then Captain
Truck asked for volunteers. These were instantly found;
Mr. Leach and the second mate setting the example by stepping
forward as the first two. In order that the whole procedure
may be understood, however, it shall be explained
more fully.

Two men were prepared to run up on the foreyard at the
word. Both of these, one of whom was Mr. Leach, carried
three small balls of marline, to the end of each of which

was attached a cod-hook, the barb being filed off in order
to prevent its being caught. By means of these hooks the
balls were fastened to the jackets of the adventurers. Two
others stood ready at the foot of the main and mizzen riggings.
By the gun lay Paul and three men; while several
of the passengers, and a few of the best shots among the
crew, were stationed on the forecastle, armed with muskets
and fowling-pieces.

“Is everybody ready?” called out the captain from the
quarter-deck.

“All ready!” and “Ay! ay, sir!” were answered from
the different points of the ship.

“Haul out the spanker!”

As soon as this sail was set, the stern of the ship swung
round towards the inlet, so as to turn the bow on which the
gun was placed towards the part of the reef where the Arabs
were in greatest numbers.

“Be steady, men! and do not hurry yourselves, though
active as wild-cats! Up, and away!”

The two fore-yard men, and the two by the after-masts,
sprang into the rigging like squirrels, and were running aloft
before the captain had done speaking.—At the same instant
one of the three by the gun leaped on the bowsprit, and ran
out towards the stay. Paul, and the other two, rose and
shoved the gun to its berth; and the small-arms men showed
themselves at the rails.

So many, all in swift motion, appearing at the same moment
in the rigging, distracted the attention of the Arabs for
an instant, though scattering shots were fired. Paul knew
that the danger would be greatest when the men aloft were
stationary, and he was in no haste. Perhaps for half a
minute he was busy in choosing his object, and in levelling
the gun, and then it was fired. He had chosen the moment
well; for Mr. Leach and his fellow adventurers were already
on the fore-yard, and the Arabs had arisen from their covers
in the eagerness of taking aim. The small-arms men poured
in their volley, and then little more could be done in the way
of the offensive, nearly all the powder in the ship having
been expended.

It remains to tell the result of this experiment.—Among

the Arabs a few fell, and those most exposed to the fire from
the ship were staggered, losing near a minute in their confusion;
but those more remote maintained hot discharges
after the first surprise. The whole time occupied in what
we are going to relate was about three minutes; the action
of the several parts going on simultaneously.

The adventurer forward, though nearest to the enemy,
was least exposed. Partly covered by the bowsprit, he ran
nimbly out on that spar till he reached the stay. Here he
cut the stop of the fore-topmast halyards, overhauled the
running part, and let the block swing in. He then hooked
a block that he had carried out with him, and in which the
bight of a rope had been rove through the thimble, and ran
in as fast as possible. This duty, which had appeared the
most hazardous of all the different adventures, on account
of the proximity of the bowsprit to the reef, was the first
done, and with the least real risk; the man being partly
concealed by the smoke of the gun, as well as by the bowsprit.
He escaped uninjured.

As the two men aft pursued exactly the same course, the
movements of one will explain those of the other. On reaching
the yard, the adventurer sprang on it, caught the hook
of the halyard-block, and threw himself off without an instant's
hesitation, overhauling the halyards by his weight.
Men stood in readiness below to check the fall by easing off
the other end of the rope, and the hardy fellow reached the
deck in safety. This seemed a nervous undertaking to the
landsmen; but the seamen who so well understood the machinery
of their vessel, made light of it.

On the fore-yard, Mr. Leach passed out on one yard-arm,
and his co-adventurer, a common seaman, on the other.
Each left a hook in the knot of the inner buntline, as he
went out, and dropped the ball of marline on deck. The
same was done at the outer buntlines, and at the leachlines.
Here the mate returned, according to his orders, leaped upon
the rigging, and thence upon a backstay, when he slid on
deck with a velocity that set aim at defiance. Notwithstanding
the quickness of his motions, Mr. Leach received a
trifling hit on the shoulder, and several bullets whizzed near
him.

The seaman on the other yard-arm succeeded equally
well, escaping the smallest injury, until he had secured the
leachline, when, knowing the usefulness of obtaining it,
for he was on the weather side of the ship, he determined
to bring in the end of the reef-tackle with him. Calling
out to let go the rope on the deck, he ran out to the lift,
bent over and secured the desired end, and raised himself
erect, with the intention to make a run in, on the top of
the yard. Captain Truck and the second mate had both
commanded him to desist in vain, for impunity from harm
had rendered him fool-hardy. In this perilous position he
even paused to give a cheer. The cry was scarcely ended
when he sprang off the yard several feet upwards and fell
perpendicularly towards the sea, carrying the rope in his
hand. At first, most on board believed the man had jumped
into the water as the least hazardous means of getting
down, depending on the rope, and on swimming, for his
security; but Paul pointed out the spot of blood that
stained the surface of the sea, at the point where he had
fallen. The reef-tackle was rounded cautiously in, and its
end rose to the surface without the hand that had so lately
grasped it. The man himself never re-appeared.

Captain Truck had now the means of setting three stay-sails,
the spanker, and the fore-course; sails sufficient, he
thought, to answer his present purposes.—The end of the
reef-tackle, that had been so dearly bought, was got in, by
means of a light line, which was thrown around it.

The order was now given to brail the spanker, and to
clap on and weigh the kedge, which was done by the run.
As soon as the ship was free of the bottom, the fore-topmast-staysail
was set flying, like a jib-top-sail, by hauling
out the tack, and swaying upon the halyards. The
sheet was hauled to windward, and the helm put down; of
course the bows of the ship began to fall off, and, as soon
as her head was sufficiently near her course, the sheet was
drawn, and the wheel shifted.

Captain Truck now ordered the foresail, which, by this
time was ready, to be set. This important sail was got on
the vessel, by bending the buntlines and leachlines to its
head, and by hauling out the weather-head-cringle by

means of the reef tackle. As soon as this broad spread of
canvas was on the ship, her motion was accelerated, and
she began to move away from the spot, followed by the
furious cries and menaces of the Arabs. To the latter no
one paid any heed, but they were audible until drowned in
distance. Although aided by all her spars, and the force
of the wind on her hull, a body as large as the Montauk
required some little time to overcome the vis inertiœ, and
several anxious minutes passed before she was so far from
the cover of the Arabs as to prevent their clamour from
seeming to be in the very ears of those on board. When
this did occur, it brought inexpressible relief, though it perhaps
increased the danger, by increasing the chances of
the bullets hitting objects on deck.

The course at first was nearly before the wind, when
the flat rock, so often named, being reached, the ship was
compelled to haul up on an easy bowline, in order to pass
to windward of it. Here the staysails aft and the spanker
were set, which aided in bringing the vessel to the wind,
and the fore-tack was brought down. By laying straight
out of the pass, a distance of only a hundred yards, the
vessel would be again clear of every thing, and beyond all
the dangers of the coast, so long as the present breeze
stood. But the tide set the vessel bodily towards the rock,
and her condition did not admit of pressing hard upon a
bowline. Captain Truck was getting to be uneasy, for he
soon perceived that they were nearing the danger, though
very gradually, and he began to tremble for his copper.
Still the vessel drew steadily ahead, and he had hopes of
passing the outer edge of the rocks in safety. This outer
edge was a broken, ragged, and pointed fragment, that
would break in the planks should the vessel rest upon it
an instant, while falling in that constant heaving and setting
of the ocean, which now began to be very sensibly
felt. After all his jeopardy, the old mariner saw that
his safety was at a serious hazard, by one of those unforeseen
but common risks that environ the seaman's life.

“Luff! luff! you can,” cried Captain Truck, glancing
his eye from the rock to the sails, and from the sails to the
rock. “Luff, sir—you are at the pinch!”

“Luff it is sir!” answered the man at the wheel, who
stood abaft the hurricane-house, covered by its roof, over
which he was compelled to look, to get a view of the sails.
“Luff I may, and luff it is, sir.”

Paul stood at the captain's side, the crew being ordered
to keep themselves as much covered as possible, on account
of the bullets of the Arabs, which were at this time pattering
against the vessel, like hail at the close of a storm.

“We shall not weather that point of ragged rock,” exclaimed
the young man, quickly; “and if we touch it the
ship will be lost.”

“Let her claw off,” returned the old man sternly. “Her
cutwater is up with it already. Let her claw off.”

The bows of the ship were certainly up with the danger,
and the vessel was slowly drawing ahead; but every
moment its broadside was set nearer to the rock, which
was now within fifty feet of them. The fore-chains were
past the point, though little hope remained of clearing it
abaft. A ship turns on her centre of gravity as on a pivot,
the two ends inclining in opposite directions; and Captain
Truck hoped that as the bows were past the danger, it
might be possible to throw the after-part of the vessel up
to the wind, by keeping away, and thus clear the spot entirely.

“Hard up with your helm!” he shouted; “hard up!—
Haul down the mizzen-staysail, and give her sheet!”

The sails were attended to, but no answer came from the
wheel, nor did the vessel change her course.

“Hard up, I tell you, sir—hard up—hard up, and be
d—d to you!”

The usual reply was not made. Paul sprang through the
narrow gangway that led to the wheel. All that passed
took but a minute, and yet it was the most critical minute
that had yet befallen the Montauk; for had she touched
that rock but for an instant, human art could hardly have
kept her above water an hour.

“Hard up, and be d—d to you!” repeated Captain
Truck, in a voice of thunder, as Paul darted round the
corner of the hurricane-house.

The seaman stood at the wheel, grasping its spokes

firmly, his eyes aloft as usual, but the turns of the tiller
rope showed that the order was not obeyed.

“Hard up, man, hard up! are you mad?” Paul uttered
these words as he sprang to the wheel, which he made
whirl with his own hands in the required direction. As for
the seaman, he yielded his hold without resistance, and fell
like a log, as the wheel flew round. A ball had entered his
back, and passed through his heart, and yet he had stood
steadily to the spokes, as the true mariner always clings
to the helm while life lasts.

The bows of the ship fell heavily off, and her stern pressed
up towards the wind; but the trifling delay so much augmented
the risk, that nothing saved the vessel but the formation
of the run and counter, which, by receding as usual,
allowed room to escape the dangerous point, as the Montauk
hove by on a swell.

Paul could not see the nearness of the escape, but the purity
of the water permitted Captain Truck and his mates
to observe it with a distinctness that almost rendered them
breathless. Indeed there was an instant when the sharp
rock was hid beneath the counter, and each momentarily
expected to hear the grating of the fragment, as it penetrated
the vessel's bottom.

“Relieve that man at the wheel, and send him hither
this moment,” said Captain Truck, in a calm stern voice,
that was more ominous than an oath.

The mate called a seaman, and passed aft himself to execute
the order. In a minute he and Paul returned, bearing
the body of the dead mariner, when all was explained.

“Lord, thy ways are unsearchable!” muttered the old
master, uncovering himself, as the corpse was carried past,
“and we are but as grains of seed, and as the vain butterflies
in thy hand!”

The rock once cleared, an open ocean lay to leeward
of the packet, and bringing the wind a little abaft the beam,
she moved steadily away from those rocks that had been
the witnesses of all her recent dangers. It was not long
before she was so distant that all danger from the Arabs
ceased. The barbarians, notwithstanding, continued a
dropping fire and furious gesticulations, long after their

hullets and menaces became matters of indifference to those
on board.

The body of the dead man was laid between the masts,
and the order was passed to bend the sails. As all was
ready, in half an hour the Montauk was standing off the
land under her three topsails, the reef now distant nearly a
league. The courses came next, when the top-gallant
yards were crossed and the sails set; the lighter canvas
followed, and some time before the sun disappeared, the
ship was under studding-sails, standing to the westward,
before the trades.

For the first time since he received the intelligence that
the Arabs were the masters of the ship, Captain Truck now
felt real relief. He was momentarily happy after the combat,
but new cares had pressed upon him so soon, that he
could scarcely be said to be tranquil. Matters were now
changed. His vessel was in good order, if not equipped for
racing, and, as he was in a low latitude, had the trade winds
to befriend him, and no longer entertained any apprehension
of his old enemy the Foam, he felt as if a mountain had
been removed from his breast.

“Thank God,” he observed to Paul, “I shall sleep to-night
without dreaming of Arabs or rocks, or scowling
faces at New York. They may say that another man
might have shown more skill in keeping clear of such a
scrape, but they will hardly say that another man could
have got out of it better. All this handsome outfit, too,
will cost the owners nothing—literally nothing; and I
question if the poor Dane will ever appear to claim the
sails and spars. I do not know that we are in possession
of them exactly according to the law of Africa, for of that
code I know little; or according to the law of nations, for
Vattel, I believe, has nothing on the subject; but we are in
possession so effectually, that, barring the nor'-westers on
the American coast, I feel pretty certain of keeping them
until we make the East River.”

“It might be better to bury the dead,” said Paul; for
he knew Eve would scarcely appear on deck as long as the
body remained in sight. “Seamen, you know, are superstitious
on the subject of corpses.”

“I have thought of this, but hoped to cheat those two
rascals of sharks that are following in our wake, as if they
scented their food. It is an extraordinary thing, Mr. Blunt,
that these fish should know when there is a body in a
ship, and that they will follow it a hundred leagues to make
sure of their prey.”

“It would be extraordinary, if true; but in what manner
has the fact been ascertained?”

“You see the two rascally pirates astern?” observed Mr.
Leach.

“Very true; but we might also see them were there no
dead body about the ship. Sharks abound in this latitude,
and I have seen several about the reef since we went in.

“They'll be disappointed as to poor Tom Smith,” said
the mate, “unless they dive deep for him. I have lashed
one of Napoleon's busts to the fine fellow's feet, and he'll
not fetch up until he's snugly anchored on the bottom.”

“This is a fitting hour for solemn feelings,” said the
captain, gazing about him at the heavens and the gathering
gloom of twilight. “Call all hands to bury the dead, Mr.
Leach. I confess I should feel easier myself as to the
weather, were the body fairly out of the ship.”

While the mate went forward to muster the people, the
captain took Paul aside with a request that he would perform
the last offices for the deceased.

“I will read a chapter in the Bible myself,” he said;
“for I should not like the people to see one of the crew go
overboard, and the officers have no word to say in the ceremonies;
it might beget disrespect, and throw a slur on our
knowledge; but you man-of-war's-men are generally more
regularly brought up to prayers than us liners, and if you
have a proper book by you, I should feel infinitely obliged
if you would give us a lift on this melancholy occasion.”

Paul proposed that Mr. Effingham should be asked to
officiate, as he knew that gentleman read prayers in his
cabin, to his own party, night and morning.

“Does he?” said the captain; “then he is my man, for
he must have his hand in, and there will be no stammering
or boggling. Ay, ay; he will fetch through on one tack.
Toast, go below, and present my compliments to Mr. Effingham,

and say I should like to speak to him; and, harkee,
Toast, desire him to put a prayer-book in his pocket, and
then step into my state-room, and bring up the Bible you
will find under the pillow. The Arabs had a full chance at
the plunder; but there is something about the book that
always takes care of it. Few rogues, I've often remarked,
care about a Bible. They would sooner steal ten novels
than one copy of the sacred writ. This of mine was my
mother's, Mr. Blunt, and I should have been a better man
had I overhauled it oftener.”

We pass over most of the arrangements, and come at
once to the service, and to the state of the ship, just as her
inmates were assembled on an occasion which no want of
formality can render any thing but solemn and admonitory.
The courses were hauled up, and the main-topsail had been
laid to the mast, a position in which a ship has always an
air of stately repose. The body was stretched on a plank
that lay across a rail, the leaden bust being enclosed in the
hammock that enveloped it. A spot of blood on the cloth
alone betrayed the nature of the death. Around the body
were grouped the crew, while Captain Truck and his mates
stood at the gangway. The passengers were collected on
the quarter-deck, with Mr. Effingham, holding a prayer-book,
a little in advance.

The sun had just dipped into the ocean, and the whole
western horizon was glorious with those soft, pearly, rainbow
hues that adorn the evening and the morning of a low
latitude, during the soft weather of the autumnal months.
To the eastward, the low line of coast was just discernible
by the hillocks of sand, leaving the imagination to portray
its solitude and wastes. The sea in all other directions was
dark and gloomy, and the entire character of the sunset was
that of a grand picture of ocean magnificence and extent,
relieved by a sky in which the tints came and went like the
well-known colours of the dolphin; to this must be added
the gathering gloom of twilight.

Eve pressed the arm of John Effingham, and gazed with
admiration and awe at the imposing scene.

“This is the seaman's grave!” she whispered.

“And worthy it is to be the tomb of so gallant a fellow.

The man died clinging to his post; and Powis tells me that
his hand was loosened from the wheel with difficulty.”

They were silent, for Captain Truck uncovered himself,
as did all around him, placed his spectacles, and opened the
sacred volume. The old mariner was far from critical in his
selections of readings, and he usually chose some subject
that he thought would most interest his hearers, which were
ordinarily those that most interested himself. To him Bible
was Bible, and he now turned to the passage in the Acts of
the Apostles in which the voyage of St. Paul from Judea to
Rome is related. This he read with steadiness, some quaintness
of pronunciation, and with a sort of breathing elasticity,
whenever he came to those verses that touched particularly
on the navigation.

Paul maintained his perfect self-command during this extraordinary
exhibition, but an unbidden smile lingered around
the handsome and chiseled mouth of Mr. Sharp. John
Effingham's curved face was sedate and composed, while the
females were too much impressed to exhibit any levity. As
to the crew, they listened in profound attention, occasionally
exchanging glances whenever any of the nautical expedients
struck them as being out of rule.

As soon as this edifying chapter was ended, Mr. Effingham
commenced the solemn rites for the dead. At the first
sound of his voice, a calm fell on the vessel as if the Spirit
of God had alighted from the clouds, and a thrill passed
through the frames of the listeners. Those solemn words
of the Apostle commencing with “I am the resurrection and
the life, saith the Lord, he that believeth in me, though he
were dead, yet he shall live: and whosoever liveth and believeth
in me, he shall never die,” could not have been better
delivered. The voice, intonation, utterance, and manner, of
Mr. Effingham, were eminently those of a gentleman; without
pretension, quiet, simple, and mellow, while, on the other
hand, they were feeling, dignified, distinct, and measured.

When he pronounced the words “I know that my Redeemer
liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon
the earth: and though, after my skin, worms destroy my
body, yet in my flesh shall I see God,” &c. &c. the men
stared about them as if a real voice from heaven had made

the declaration, and Captain Truck looked aloft like one expecting
a trumpet-blast. The tears of Eve began to flow as
she listened to the much-loved tones; and the stoutest heart
in that much-tried ship quailed. John Effingham made the
responses of the psalm steadily, and Mr. Sharp and Paul
soon joined him. But the profoundest effect was produced
when the office reached those consoling but startling words
from the Revelations, commencing with, “I heard a voice
from Heaven saying unto me write, from henceforth blessed
are the dead who die in the Lord,” &c. Captain Truck afterwards
confessed that he thought he heard the very voice,
and the men actually pressed together in their alarm. The
plunge of the body was also a solemn instant. It went off
the end of the plank feet foremost, and, carried rapidly down
by the great weight of the lead, the water closed above it,
obliterating every trace of the seaman's grave. Eve thought
that its exit resembled the few brief hours that draw the veil
of oblivion around the mass of mortals when they disappear
from earth.

Instead of asking for the benediction at the close of the
ceremony, Mr. Effingham devoutly and calmly commenced
the psalm of thanksgiving for victory, “If the Lord had not
been on our side, now may we say, if the Lord himself had
not been on our side, when men rose up against us, they
would have swallowed us up quick, when they were so
wrathfully displeased with us.” Most of the gentlemen
joined in the responses, and the silvery voice of Eve sounded
sweet and holy amid the breathings of the ocean. Te Deum
Laudamus, “We praise thee, O God! we acknowledge thee
to be the Lord!” “All the earth doth worship thee, the
Father everlasting;” closed the offices, when Mr. Effingham
dismissed his congregation with the usual layman's request
for the benediction.

Captain Truck had never before been so deeply impressed
with any religious ceremony, and when it ceased he looked
wistfully over the side at the spot where the body had
fallen, or where it might be supposed to have fallen—for
the ship had drifted some distance—as one takes a last
look at the grave of a friend.

“Shall we fill the main-topsail, sir?” demanded Mr.

Leach, after waiting a minute or two in deference to his
commander's feelings; “or shall we hook on the yard-tackles,
and stow the launch?”

“Not yet, Leach; not yet. It will be unkind to poor
Jack to hurry away from his grave so indecently. I have
observed that the people about the river always keep in
sight till the last sod is stowed, and the rubbish is cleared
away. The fine fellow stood to those spokes as a close-reefed
topsail in a gale stands the surges of the wind, and
we owe him this little respect.”

“The boats, sir?”

“Let them tow awhile longer. It will seem like deserting
him to be rattling the yard-tackles, and stowing boats
directly over his head. Your gran'ther was a priest, Leach,
and I wonder you don't see the impropriety of hurrying
away from a grave. A little reflection will hurt none of
us.”

The mate admired at a mood so novel for his commander,
but he was fain to submit. The day was fast closing notwithstanding,
and the skies were losing their brilliancy in
hues that were still softer and more melancholy, as if nature
delighted, too, in sympathizing with the feelings of these
lone mariners!