CHAPTER CLVI.
[Chapter 164]
THE STORM. —A SHIPWRECK AT SEA. —THE HAPLESS FATE OF THE MARINERS.
The morning was ushered in with wind and rain; a tempest was howling over
the main; the seas lashed the shores with a fury that made it dangerous for
even such vessels as were moored; and great fears were entertained that many
wrecks would be seen before the night set in. The roar of the ocean and the
bellowing of the wind was almost deafening; and the few fishermen and sailors
that now and then showed themselves; as they came towards the shore to
ascertain the safety of their little barques, could scarcely make themselves
heard.
The sky was too heavy, and the rain too incessant, to permit them to see
very clearly or very far; they could not see any ships in the offing.
"Neighbour," said one, "did you hear the wind in the night?"
"Hear it!" replied the man spoken to; "could I help it? Who is there
that could sleep, while such a tempest was blowing great guns. I never heard
anything like it in all my life. God help those poor fellows who are at sea
such a night as this."
"So say I, neighbour, so say I; if there be any upon this coast—if any
awake with the morning dawn and find themselves upon a lee shore, they will
never get off again, depend upon it; they are all lost men."
"So they are; there's no hope for them on this shore; every vessel must,
indeed, come upon it, and no aid could be rendered to them."
"You are right, neighbour. I am glad our boats are high and dry; for, if
they were not, they would never be on the sea again, except as fragments;
every timber in them would be broken to pieces, and scattered about the
beach."
"Ay, ay, 'tis an awful day. I propose, neighbour, we should make an
attempt to get our boats still higher on the beach; see, the sea comes now
within a few boat-lengths of them; a few more waves heaving one upon the other
will at last reach them, and, if so, we are, indeed, poor men, neighbour."
"With all my heart; we have no time to lose, neighbour—see, the waves
have got nearer yet—come on, come on."
The two fishermen hurried down to the beach; and, with the aid of one or
two more, who had hurried onwards with the same object as themselves, that of
putting the boats out of danger from the waves, they succeeded; and then they
returned, leaving their boats, their only wealth, high above the reach of the
most tempestuous sea.
"There, neighbour, I never heard such a sea. I will go and see what can
be done in-doors by the fire-side; this is not a day to be out in; you are wet
through in about ten minutes, and nothing to do but to look on the black
clouds."
"No, neighbour; though I don't think in-doors much better, for I expect
our roof to come off, or the chimney to fall over; and must consider myself
very fortunate if I do not have the whole house blown down."
"Ay, ay; but I expect to hear of a few accidents. I don't see any vessel
coming in the horizon at all—do you see any?"
"None."
"Well, I hope there may be none. I'm for the house; too much of this may
be hurtful to a fisherman; so, good day."
"Good day, for the present. I dare say we shall see each other before
the day's out, if anything may happen in the shape of wreck."
"Safe and sure to be out."
"If you hear a gun, let me know, if I should not be out; for the wind
blows and the sea roars so loudly that I can scarcely hear at all."
"I'll be with you; and do you the same for me, if I should happen to miss
it; though I can't tell how that can be, as the wind blows dead in shore."
"It's a bargain—I'll do it."
The two fishermen parted from each other, and entered their own dwellings
to escape the fury of the elements; for there was nothing to keep them
outside, but there was everything to induce them to stay in-doors —a warm
fire and freedom from the wind and rain, though that howled and roared in the
chimneys in a frightful manner.
* * * * *
If the aspect of the affairs was bad on the land, it was much worse at
sea; for there a vessel rode out the fury of the storm gallantly enough, and
resisted the force of the winds and waves for some time; but she could not
resist the impetuosity of the elements, though she strove hard and resisted
long.
She strained, and timber after timber started, masts were gone, and the
rudder became damaged, and at length no hope was left.
The crew was not a large one, and the pumps had become completely choked
and useless; while the vessel was drifted hither and thither without any means
of guidance whatever; she was at the mercy of wind and waves.
"We are drifting towards the shore," said the mate to the master; "we
cannot keep her head out to sea at all."
"I know it," answered the master, gloomily —"I know it; she has been
making land for some time now, and as we have neither rudder, nor sails, nor
masts, we may as well make our peace, for the worst must soon come."
"I expect that some tiem ago, when I found that the wind was set dead on
shore, and the rudder was gone."
"Surely, we haven't much time to lose; let the guns be fired, as a signal
of distress; it may give warning to those on shore."
"We cannot expect assistance."
"Not here, I know."
"Certainly not; no boat would live for a moment in a sea like this."
"No, I know it would not; but it may put them upon the look out, and some
of our poor fellows may get picked up; for we don't exactly know how far we
may be driven towards the land, and we may be sent right on to the beach, for
aught we can tell."
"So we might."
"I hope we may."
"Are the guns ready?"
"Yes, sir, they are loaded; but there is only one barrel of powder dry."
"Let it be cared for; fire the guns."
The order was promptly obeyed, for the men had left off pumping,
conceiving it useless to continue it any longer; indeed; they could not, for
the pumps were no longer serviceable, and they saw the land ahead, and each
man made up his mind that the struggle for life was about to commence; while
the firing of the guns was a measure of precaution which might, or might not,
be of use; and as every one clung to hope to the last, the order was obeyed
with alacrity.
The guns were fired in minute intervals, and at length every half minute
while the powder lasted, and then they ceased.
There was not more than from fifteen to twenty souls on board; but there
were several passengers among them; one in particular was remarkable for his
height, and the singular pallid hue of his features.
He was reserved, but of gentlemanly deportment; he was well aware of his
danger, but it did not appear to render him incapable of seeing and
understanding what was going on; but he was grave and melancholy.
"How long, captain, do you think it will be," he said, approaching the
master, "before the vessel will break up; for I see that we shall be wrecked,
that is no secret at all to any of us, and certainly not to me."
"I don't know, replied the captain; "it is impossible to say."
"Cannot you form an opinion upon the subject?" inquired the stranger.
"I can; but it is only an opinion. I can give you no information,"
replied the captain, who did not wish to give an opinion upon such a subject.
"Certainly, I am aware of that. I asked for an opinion; if you have one,
perhaps you may be good enough to favour me with it, if it be not too great a
favour to expect from you, sir. I thought you had experience enough to enable
you to form an opinion, and it was for that reason I asked you."
"Well, sir, we strike in five minutes, perhaps in twenty; it depends upon
wind and waves, our course, and how far we may go ashore."
"I understand you; if we are forced in upon the shore in a direct line,
we may expect the shortest time."
"We may."
"And if we should not meet with any obstruction, we may be thrown far on
shore."
"Yes; if we had but the means of guiding the vessel, I could steer her
within fifty or a hundred yards of the shore, where she would strike, and a
better chance would then be had of some reaching the shore."
"Which is now rather more than uncertain."
"It is so," said the master.
At the moment there was such a shock from the vessel striking upon a
sunken rock, that they were all thrown down on the deck, and the sea made a
clear breach over her, and swept away several of the crew.
The master contrived for a moment or two to secure himself to a spar,
with the hope that he would be able to float off; but this was a vain hope,
for a moment after he was lifted up by a sea, and dashed against the stump of
the mast, and crushed in a horrible manner, his blood dying the deck for a
minute, and then it was washed away, as he himself was by the same wave, and
was not seen again.
The master no doubt had been killed, and there was nearly all of the crew
swept away; but among those who yet survived, was to be seen the tall
stranger, who stood in the storm, and held on by a portion of the vessel; he
still braved the fury of the waves as they broke over the deck clearing all
before them.
Each breach of the sea made away with some one of the unhappy mariners
who yet clung with hopeless desperation; but yet they feared to quit their
last hold, and to throw themselves into the foam that was boiling around them.
In the meantime the vessel heeled about, and every now and then, being in
shallow water, a great wave would come and lift her up, and then leave her
higher on the rocks, but giving her each time dreadful shocks, and breaking
her keel up.
The only hope the unfortunate men had, was that some portion of the wreck
upon which they might chance to be, would be floated to the shore before life
was extinct; but this was more and more hopeless, for the breakers over which
they would have to float would probably be their destruction, for they would
be dashed to pieces.
The wind and the waves howled and roared, and drowned all noise —
nothing could be heard, and nothing seen, for the waves broke over them so
furiously, and raged so high above them, that they neither could do so, nor
even see the shore. Nothing but a white sea of foam and spray met their eyes,
whenever they cold raise them, and free them from salt water.
At length an immense wave came rolling towards them; the men shrieked as
the flood came onwards. In a moment afterwards they were lifted up, vessel
and all, and carried a few yards further onwards and then left, with a report
that seemed like that of a cannon to them; but they felt the shock, and when
the wave left them, the vessel was no more; a mere mass of boards and other
matters floated about; she had been utterly and entirely destroyed; no vestige
of her was left, and nothing but a confused mass of planks was to be seen,
with here and there a human being clinging to them for life. But, alas! their
efforts were vain —they sank —they could not sustain the battle with the
waves and the breakers; they were dashed to mummies, and every limb broken on
the foaming, raging breakers.
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