 | CHAPTER II. The pathfinder, or, The inland sea |  |
2. CHAPTER II.
New raised objections with new quibbles meets,
Till sinking in the quicksand he defends,
He dies disputing, and the contest ends.”
Cowper.
As the soldier's wife was sick in her berth, Mabel Dunham
was the only person in the outer cabin, when Jasper returned
to it; for, by an act of grace in the serjeant, he had been
permitted to resume his proper place, in this part of the
vessel. We should be ascribing too much simplicity of
character to our heroine, if we said that she had felt no distrust
should also be doing injustice to her warmth of feeling, and
generosity of disposition, if we did not add, that this distrust
was insignificant and transient. As he now took his seat
near her, his whole countenance clouded with the uneasiness
he felt concerning the situation of the cutter, everything
like suspicion was banished from her mind, and she saw in
him only an injured man.
“You let this affair weigh too heavily on your mind, Jasper,”
she said, eagerly, or with that forgetfulness of self,
with which the youthful of her sex are wont to betray their
feelings, when a strong and generous interest has attained
the ascendency — “no one, who knows you, can, or does,
believe you guilty. Pathfinder says he will pledge his life
for you.”
“Then you, Mabel,” returned the youth, his eyes flashing
fire, “do not look upon me, as the traitor that your father
seems to believe me to be?”
“My dear father is a soldier, and is obliged to act as one.
My father's daughter is not, and will think of you, as she
ought to think of a man who has done so much to serve her
already.”
“Mabel—I 'm not used to talking with one like you—or,
saying all I think and feel with any. I never had a sister,
and my mother died when I was a child, so that I know little
what your sex most likes to hear—”
Mabel would have given the world to know what lay behind
the teeming word, at which Jasper hesitated; but the
indefinable and controlling sense of womanly diffidence made
her suppress her womanly curiosity. She waited in silence
for him to explain his own meaning.
“I wish to say, Mabel,” the young man continued, after a
pause which he found sufficiently embarrassing, “that I am
unused to the ways and opinions of one like you, and that
you must imagine all I would add.”
Mabel had imagination enough to fancy anything, but
there are ideas and feelings that her sex prefer to have expressed,
before they yield them all their own sympathies,
and she had a vague consciousness that these of Jasper's
might properly be enumerated in the class; with a readiness
that belonged to her sex, therefore, she preferred changing
manner so awkward and so unsatisfactory.
“Tell me one thing, Jasper, and I shall be content,” she
said, speaking now with a firmness that denoted confidence not
only in herself, but in her companion—“you do not deserve
this cruel suspicion which rests upon you?”
“I do not, Mabel,” answered Jasper, looking into her full
blue eyes, with an openness and simplicity that might have
shaken strong distrust. “As I hope for mercy, hereafter, I
do not.”
“I knew it—I could have sworn it,” returned the girl,
warmly. “And yet my father means well: but do not let
this matter disturb you, Jasper.”
“There is so much more to apprehend from another quarter,
just now, that I scarce think of it.”
“Jasper!”
“I do not wish to alarm you, Mabel, but if your uncle
could be persuaded to change his notions about handling the
Scud—and yet, he is so much older, and more experienced
than I am, that he ought, perhaps, to place more reliance on
his own judgment than on mine.”
“Do you think the cutter in any danger?” demanded Mabel,
quick as thought.
“I fear so—at least she would have been thought in great
danger, by us of the lake; perhaps an old seaman of the
ocean may have means of his own to take care of her.”
“Jasper, all agree in giving you credit for skill in managing
the Scud! You know the lake, you know the cutter—
you must be the best judge of our real situation!”
“My concern for you, Mabel, may make me more cowardly
than common; but, to be frank, I see but one method
of keeping the cutter from being wrecked in the course of
the next two or three hours, and that your uncle refuses to
take. After all, this may be my ignorance; for, as he says,
Ontario is merely fresh-water.”
“You cannot believe this will make any difference. Think
of my dear father, Jasper!—Think of yourself, of all the lives
that depend on a timely word from you to save them!”
“I think of you, Mabel, and that is more, much more,
than all the rest put together,” returned the young man, with
infinitely more than the words themselves.
Mabel's heart beat quick, and a gleam of grateful satisfaction
shot across her blushing features; but the alarm was
too vivid and too serious to admit of much relief from happier
thoughts. She did not attempt to repress a look of gratitude,
and then she returned to the feeling that was naturally uppermost.
“My uncle's obstinacy must not be permitted to occasion
this disaster. Go once more on deck, Jasper, and ask my
father to come into the cabin.”
While the young man was complying with this request,
Mabel sat listening to the howling of the storm, and the dashing
of the water against the cutter, in a dread to which she
had hitherto been a stranger. Constitutionally an excellent
sailor, as the term is used among passengers, she had not,
hitherto, bethought her of any danger, and had passed her
time, since the commencement of the gale, in such womanly
employments, as her situation allowed; but now alarm was
seriously awakened, she did not fail to perceive, that never
before had she been on the water in such a tempest. The
minute or two that elapsed ere the serjeant came appeared
an hour, and she scarcely breathed when she saw him and
Jasper descending the ladder in company. Quick as language
could express her meaning, she acquainted her father
with Jasper's opinion of their situation, and entreated him, if
he loved her, or had any regard for his own life, or for those
of his men, to interfere with her uncle, and to induce him
to yield the control of the cutter, again, to its proper commander.
“Jasper is true, father,” she added earnestly, “and if false,
he could have no motive in wrecking us in this distant part
of the lake, at the risk of all our lives, his own included.
I will pledge my own life for his truth.”
“Ay, this is well enough for a young woman who is frightened,”
answered the more phlegmatic parent; “but it might
not be so prudent, or excusable in one in command of an expedition.
Jasper may think the chance of drowning in getting
ashore, fully repaid by the chance of escaping as soon
as he reaches the land.”
“Serjeant Dunham!”
“Father!”
These exclamations were made simultaneously, but they
were uttered in tones expressive of different feelings. In Jasper,
surprise was the emotion uppermost; in Mabel, reproach.
The old soldier, however, was too much accustomed to deal
frankly with subordinates to heed either; and, after a moment's
thought, he continued, as if neither had spoken.
“Nor is brother Cap a man likely to submit to be taught
his duty on board a vessel.”
“But, father, when all our lives are in the utmost jeopardy!”
“So much the worse. The fair-weather commander is no
great matter; it is when things go wrong, that the best officer
shows himself in his true colours. Charles Cap will not be
likely to quit the helm because the ship is in danger. Besides,
Jasper Eau-douce, he says, your proposal, in itself, has a suspicious
air about it, and sounds more like treachery than reason.”
“He may think so, but let him send for the pilot, and hear
his opinion. It is well known, I have not seen the man since
yesterday evening.”
“This does sound reasonably, and the experiment shall be
tried. Follow me on deck, then, that all may be honest and
above-board.”
Jasper obeyed, and so keen was the interest of Mabel, that
she, too, ventured as far as the companion-way, where her
garments were sufficiently protected against the violence of
the wind, and her person from the spray. Here maiden modesty
induced her to remain, though an absorbed witness of
what was passing.
The pilot soon appeared, and there was no mistaking the
look of concern that he cast around at the scene, as soon as
he was in the open air. Some rumours of the situation of
the Scud had found their way below, it is true; but, in this
instance, rumour had lessened, instead of magnifying the danger.
He was allowed a few minutes to look about him, and
then the question was put as to the course that he thought it
prudent to follow.
“I see no means of saving the cutter but to anchor,” he
answered simply, and without hesitation.
“What, out here, in the lake?” inquired Cap, as he had
previously done of Jasper.
“No—but closer in; just at the outer line of the breakers.”
The effect of this communication was to leave no doubt, in
the mind of Cap, that there was a secret arrangement, between
her commander and the pilot, to cast away the Scud; most
probably with the hope of effecting their escape. He consequently
treated the opinion of the latter with the indifference
he had manifested towards that of the former.
“I tell you, brother Dunham,” he said, in answer to the
remonstrances of the serjeant against his turning a deaf ear
to this double representation, “that no seaman would give
such an opinion honestly. To anchor on a lee shore, in a
gale of wind, would be an act of madness that I could never
excuse to the underwriters, under any circumstances, as long
as a rag can be set—but to anchor close to breakers would
be insanity.”
“His majesty underwriters the Scud, brother, and I am responsible
for the lives of my command. These men are better
acquainted with Lake Ontario than we can possibly be,
and I do think their telling the same tale entitles them to some
credit.”
“Uncle!” said Mabel, earnestly,—but a gesture from Jasper
induced the girl to restrain her feelings.
“We are drifting down upon the breakers so rapidly,” said
the young man, “that little need be said on the subject. Half
an hour must settle the matter, one way or the other; but I
warn Master Cap that the surest-footed man among us will
not be able to keep his feet an instant on the deck of this low
craft, should she fairly get within them. Indeed, I make little
doubt that we shall fill and founder before the second line
of rollers is passed!”
“And how would anchoring help the matter?” demanded
Cap, furiously, as if he felt that Jasper was responsible for
the effects of the gale, as well as for the opinion he had just
given.
“It would at least do no harm,” Eau-douce mildly replied.
“By bringing the cutter head to sea we should lessen her
drift; and even if we dragged through the breakers, it would
be with the least possible danger. I hope, Master Cap, you
since the precaution may do good, and can do no harm.”
“Overhaul your ranges if you will, and get your anchors
clear, with all my heart. We are now in a situation that
cannot be much affected by anything of that sort. Serjeant,
a word with you, aft here, if you please.”
Cap led his brother-in-law out of ear-shot; and then, with
more of human feeling in his voice and manner than he was
apt to exhibit, he opened his heart on the subject of their real
situation.
“This is a melancholy affair for poor Mabel,” he said,
blowing his nose, and speaking with a slight tremour—“You
and I, serjeant, are old fellows, and used to being near death,
if not to actually dying. Our trades fit us for such scenes;
but poor Mabel, she is an affectionate and kind-hearted girl,
and I had hoped to see her comfortably settled and a mother,
before my time came. Well, well; we must take the bad
with the good, in every v'y'ge, and the only serious objection
that an old sea-faring man can with propriety make to such
an event, is that it should happen on this bit of d—d fresh-water.”
Serjeant Dunham was a brave man, and had shown his
spirit in scenes that looked much more appalling than this.
But, on all such occasions, he had been able to act his part
against his foes, while here he was pressed upon by an enemy
whom he had no means of resisting. For himself, he
cared far less, than for his daughter; feeling some of that
self-reliance which seldom deserts a man of firmness, who is
in vigorous health, and who has been accustomed to personal
exertions, in moments of jeopardy. But, as respects Mabel,
he saw no means of escape, and with a father's fondness he
at once determined that, if either was doomed to perish, he
and his daughter must perish together.
“Do you think this must come to pass?” he asked of Cap,
firmly, but with strong feeling.
“Twenty minutes will carry us into the breakers, and,
look for yourself, serjeant, what chance will even the stoutest
man among us have in that caldron to leeward!”
The prospect was, indeed, little calculated to encourage
hope. By this time the Scud was within a mile of the shore,
on which the gale was blowing at right angles, with a vio
with a view to claw off. The small portion of the
mainsail that was actually set, and which merely served to
keep the head of the Scud so near the wind as to prevent the
waves from breaking over her, quivered under the gusts, as
if, at each moment, the stout threads which held the complicated
fabric together, were about to be torn asunder. The
drizzle had ceased; but the air, for a hundred feet above the
surface of the lake, was filled with dazzling spray, which
had an appearance not unlike that of a brilliant mist, while
above all, the sun was shining gloriously, in a cloudless sky.
Jasper had noted the omen; and had foretold that it announced
a speedy termination to the gale, though the next
hour or two must decide their fate. Between the cutter and
the shore, the view was still more wild and appalling. The
breakers extended near a half a mile; while the water within
their line was white with foam, the air above them was so far
filled with vapour and spray, as to render the land beyond hazy
and indistinct. Still it could be seen that the latter was high;
not a usual thing for the shores of Ontario; and that it was
covered with the verdant mantle of the interminable forest.
While the serjeant and Cap were gazing at this scene, in
silence, Jasper and his people were actively engaged on the
forecastle. No sooner had the young man received permission
to resume his old employment, than appealing to some
of the soldiers for aid, he mustered five or six assistants, and
set about in earnest, the performance of a duty that had been
too long delayed. On these narrow waters, anchors are
never stowed in-board, or cables that are intended for service
unbent, and Jasper was saved much of the labour that would
have been necessary in a vessel at sea. The two bowers
were soon ready to be let go, ranges of the cables were overhauled,
and then the party paused to look about them.
No changes for the better had occurred; but the cutter was
falling slowly in, and each instant rendered it more certain
that she could not gain an inch to windward.
One long, earnest survey of the lake ended, Jasper gave
new orders in a manner to prove how much he thought
that the time pressed. Two kedges were got on deck, and
hawsers were bent to them; the inner ends of the hawsers
were bent, in their turns, to the crowns of the anchors, and
proper moment. These preparations completed, Jasper's
manner changed from the excitement of exertion, to a look
of calm, but settled, concern. He quitted the forecastle,
where the seas were dashing inboard, at every plunge of
the vessel; the duty just mentioned having been executed
with the bodies of the crew frequently buried in the water,
and walked to a drier part of the deck, aft. Here he was
met by the Pathfinder, who was standing near Mabel and the
Quarter-Master. Most of those on board, with the exception
of the individuals who have already been particularly mentioned,
were below, some seeking relief from physical suffering
on their pallets; and others tardily bethinking them of
their sins. For the first time, most probably, since her keel
had dipped into the limpid waters of Ontario, the voice of
prayer was heard on board on board the Scud.
“Jasper,” commenced his friend, the guide, “I have been
of no use this morning, for my gifts are of little account, as
you know, in a vessel like this; but, should it please God to
let the serjeant's daughter reach the shore, alive, my acquaintance
with the forest may still carry her through in
safety to the garrison.”
“'Tis a fearful distance thither, Pathfinder!” Mabel rejoined,
the party being so near together that all that was
said by one, was overheard by the others. “I am afraid none
of us could live to reach the fort.”
“It would be a risky path, Mabel, and a crooked one;
though some of your sex have undergone even more than
that, in this wilderness. But, Jasper, either you or I, or
both of us, must man this bark canoe; Mabel's only chance
will lie in getting through the breakers in that.”
“I would willingly man any thing to save Mabel,” answered
Jasper, with a melancholy smile; “but no human
hand, Pathfinder, could carry that canoe through yonder
breakers, in a gale like this. I have hopes from anchoring,
after all; for, once before, have we saved the Scud in an
extremity nearly as great as this.”
“If we are to anchor, Jasper,” the serjeant inquired,
“why not do it at once? Every foot we lose in drifting
now, would come into the distance we shall probably drag,
when the anchors are let go.”
Jasper drew nearer to the serjeant, and took his hand,
pressing it earnestly, and in a way to denote strong, almost
uncontrollable feelings.
“Serjeant Dunham,” he said, solemnly, “you are a good
man, though you have treated me harshly in this business.
You love your daughter?”
“That you cannot doubt, Eau-douce,” returned the serjeant,
huskily.
“Will you give her — give us all, the only chance for
life, that is left?”
“What would you have me do, boy; what would you
have me do? I have acted according to my judgment, hitherto
—what would you have me do?”
“Support me against Master Cap, for five minutes, and all
that man can do, towards saving the Scud, shall be done.”
The serjeant hesitated, for he was too much of a disciplinarian
to fly in the face of regular orders. He disliked the
appearance of vacillation, too; and then he had a profound
respect for his kinsman's seamanship. While he was deliberating,
Cap came from the post he had some time occupied,
which was at the side of the man at the helm, and drew
nigh the group.
“Master Eau-deuce,” he said, as soon as near enough to
be heard, “I have come to inquire, if you know any spot
near by, where this cutter can be beached? The moment
has arrived when we are driven to this hard alternative?”
That instant of indecision on the part of Cap, secured the
triumph of Jasper. Looking at the serjeant, the young man
received a nod that assured him of all he asked, and he lost
not one of those moments that were getting to be so very
precious.
“Shall I take the helm?” he inquired of Cap, “and see if
we can reach a creek that lies to leeward?”
“Do so—do so—” said the other, hemming to clear his
throat, for he felt oppressed by a responsibility that weighed
all the heavier on his shoulders, on account of his ignorance.
“Do so, Eau-deuce, since, to be frank with you, I can see
nothing better to be done. We must beach, or swamp!”
Jasper required no more; springing aft, he soon had the
tiller in his own hands. The pilot was prepared for what
was to follow, and, at a sign from his young commander, the
moment, Jasper, watching his time, put the helm up, the head
of a staysail was loosened forward, and the light cutter, as
if conscious she was now under the control of familiar hands,
fell off, and was soon in the trough of the sea. This perilous
instant was passed in safety, and at the next moment, the
little vessel appeared flying down toward the breakers, at a
rate that threatened instant destruction. The distances had
got to be so short, that five or six minutes sufficed for all that
Jasper wished, and he put the helm dowm again, when the
bows of the Scud came up to the wind, notwithstanding the
turbulence of the waters, as gracefully as the duck varies its
line of direction on the glassy pond. A sign from Jasper set
all in motion on the forecastle, and a kedge was thrown from
each bow. The fearful nature of the drift was now apparent
even to Mabel's eyes, for the two hawsers ran out like towlines.
As soon as they straightened to a slight strain, both
anchors were let go, and cable was given to each, nearly to
the better-ends. It was not a difficult task to snub so light a
craft, with ground-tackle of a quality better than common;
and in less than ten minutes from the moment when Jasper
went to the helm, the Scud was riding, head to sea, with
the two cables stretched ahead in lines that resembled bars
of iron.
“This is not well done, Master Jasper!” angrily exclaimed
Cap, as soon as he perceived the trick that had been played
him—“this is not well done, sir; I order you to cut, and to
beach the cutter, without a moment's delay.”
No one, however, seemed disposed to comply with this
order, for so long as Eau-douce saw fit to command, his own
people were disposed to obey. Finding that the men remained
passive, Cap, who believed they were in the utmost
peril, turned fiercely to Jasper, and renewed his remonstrances.
“You did not head for your pretended creek,” he added,
after dealing in some objurgatory remarks that we do not
deem it necessary to record, “but steered for that bluff, where
every soul on board would have been drowned, had we gone
ashore!”
“And you wish to cut, and put every soul ashore, at that
very spot!” Jasper retorted, a little drily.
“Throw a lead-line overboard, and ascertain the drift—”
Cap now roared to the people forward. A sign from Jasper,
sustaining this order, it was instantly obeyed. All on deck
gathered round the spot, and watched, with nearly breathless
interest, the result of the experiment. The lead was no
sooner on the bottom, than the line tended forward, and in
about two minutes it was seen that the cutter had drifted her
length, dead in towards the bluff. Jasper looked grave, for
he well know nothing would hold the vessel did she get within
the vortex of the breakers, the first line of which was appearing
and disappearing about a cable's length directly under
their stern.
“Traitor!” exclaimed Cap, shaking a finger at the young
commander, though passion choked the rest. “You must
answer for this with your life!” he added after a short pause,
“If I were at the head of this expedition, serjeant, I would
hang him at the end of the main-boom, lest he escape
drowning.”
“Moderate your feelings, brother—be more moderate, I
beseech you; Jasper appears to have done all for the best,
and matters may not be as bad as you believe them.”
“Why did he not run for the creek, he mentioned—why
has he brought us here, dead to windward of that bluff, and
to a spot where even the breakers are only of half the ordinary
width, as if in a hurry to drown all on board?”
“I headed for the bluff, for the precise reason that the
breakers are so narrow at this spot,” answered Jasper, mildly,
though his gorge had risen at the language the other held.
“Do you mean to tell an old seaman like me, that this cutter
could live in those breakers?”
“I do not, sir. I think she would fill and swamp, if driven
into the first line of them—I am certain she would never
reach the shore on her bottom, if fairly entered. I hope to
keep her clear of them, altogether.”
“With a drift of her length in a minute!”
“The backing of the anchors does not yet fairly tell, nor
do I even hope that they will entirely bring her up.”
“On what then do you rely? To moor a craft, head and
stern, by faith, hope, and charity!”
“No, sir—I trust to the under-tow. I headed for the bluff,
because I knew that it was stronger at that point than at any
entering the breakers.”
This was said with spirit, though without any particular
show of resentment. Its effect on Cap was marked, the
feeling that was uppermost being evidently that of surprise.
“Under-tow!” he repeated—“who the devil ever heard of
saving a vessel from going ashore by the under-tow!”
“This may never happen on the ocean, sir,” Jasper answered,
modestly, “but we have known it to happen here.”
“The lad is right, brother,” put in the serjeant; “for though
I do not well understand it, I have often heard the sailors
of the lake speak of such a thing. We shall do well to trust
to Jasper, in this strait.”
Cap grumbled and swore, but as there was no remedy, he was
compelled to acquiesce. Jasper being now called on to explain
what he meant by the under-tow, gave this account of
the matter. The water that was driven up on the shore by
the gale, was necessarily compelled to find its level by returning
to the lake by some secret channels. This could not be
done on the surface, where both wind and waves were constantly
urging it towards the land, and it necessarily formed
a sort of lower eddy, by means of which it flowed back again
to its ancient and proper bed. This inferior current had received
the name of the under-tow; and as it would necessarily
act on the bottom of a vessel that drew as much water
as the Scud, Jasper trusted to the aid of this reaction to keep
his cables from parting. In short, the upper and lower currents
would, in a manner, counteract each other.
Simple and ingenious as was this theory, however, as yet
there was little evidence of its being reduced to practice.
The drift continued; though as the kedges and hawsers with
which the anchors were backed, took the strains, it became
sensibly less. At length the man at the lead announced the
joyful intelligence, that the anchors had ceased to drag,
and that the vessel had brought up! At this precise moment,
the first line of breakers was about a hundred feet astern of
the Scud, even appearing to approach much nearer, as the
foam vanished and returned on the raging surges. Jasper
sprang forward, and casting a glance over the bows, he
smiled in triumph, as he pointed exultingly to the cables. Instead
of resembling bars of iron in rigidity, as before, they
evident that the cutter rose and fell on the seas as they came
in, with the ease of a ship in a tides-way, when the power of
the wind is relieved by the counteracting pressure of the water.
“'T is the under-tow!” he exclaimed, with delight, fairly
bounding along the deck to steady the helm, in order that
the cutter might ride still easier—“Providence has placed us
directly in its current, and there is no longer any danger!”
“Ay-ay, Providence is a good seaman”—growled Cap,
—“and often helps lubbers out of difficulty. Under tow, or
upper tow, the gale has abated, and fortunately for us all, the
anchors have met with good holding-ground. Then this
d—d fresh-water has an unnatural way with it.”
Men are seldom inclined to quarrel with good fortune, but
it is in distress that they grow clamorous and critical. Most
on board were disposed to believe that they had been saved
from shipwreck by the skill and knowledge of Jasper, without
regarding the opinions of Cap, whose remarks were now
little heeded.
There was half an hour of uncertainty and doubt, it is
true, during which period the lead was anxiously watched;
and then a feeling of security came over all, and the weary
slept without dreaming of instant death.
| CHAPTER II. The pathfinder, or, The inland sea | |