CHAPTER XXXIX
_Three Pictures of the Sea_
A short time before sunset that same evening the Yarmouth was hove to,and the hoarse cry of the boatswain and his mates was once more heardthrough the ship, calling,--
"All hands! Bury the dead."
Skilled hands had been working earnestly all the afternoon to repairthe damage to the vessel; much had been accomplished, but much morestill remained to be done. However, night was drawing on, and it wasadvisable to dispose of the dead bodies of those who had been killed inthe action, or who had died since of their wounds, without furtherdelay. Some of the sailmaker's mates had been busy during theafternoon, sewing up the dead in new, clean hammocks, and weightingeach one with heavy shot at the feet to draw it down. The bodies werelaid in orderly rows amidships, forward of the mainmast, and all wasready when the word was passed. The crew assembled in the gangwaysfacing aft, the boatswain, gunner, carpenter, sailmaker, and otherwarrant officers at their head. The captain, attended by ColonelWilton and the first lieutenant in full uniform, and surrounded by theofficers down to the smallest midshipman, stood facing the crew on thequarter-deck; back of the officers, on the opposite side of the deck,the marine guard was drawn up. At the break of the poop stood theslender, graceful figure of a woman, alone, clearly outlined againstthe low light of the setting sun, looking mournfully down upon thepicture, her heart, though filled with sadness and sorrow particularlyher own, still great enough to feel sympathy for others.
The chaplain, clothed in the white vestments of his sacred office,presently came from out the cabin beneath the poop-deck, and stoppedopposite the gangway between the line of men and officers. Two of theboatswain's mates, at a signal from the first lieutenant, stepped tothe row of bodies and carefully lifted up the first one and laid it ona grating, covering it at the same time with a flag. They next liftedthe grating and placed one end of it on the rail overlooking the sea,and held the other in their hands and waited. The captain uncovered,all the other officers and the men following his example.
The chaplain began to read from the book in his hand. The first bodyon the grating was a very small one,--only a boy, looking smaller incontrast to those of the men by which it had lain. The little figureof the Honorable Giles looked pathetic indeed. Some of the littlefellow's messmates had hard work to stifle their tears; here and therein the ranks of the silent men the back of a hand would go furtively upto a wet eye, as the minister read on and on.
How run the words?
"Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God, in His wise Providence, totake out of this world the soul of our deceased brother--" Was itindeed Thy pleasure, O God, that this little "brother" should die? WasThy Providence summed up in this little silent figure? Alas, who cananswer?
And then as the even voice of the priest went on with the solemn andbeautiful words which never grow familiar,--"we therefore commit hisbody to the deep,"--the first lieutenant nodded to the watchingsailors. They lifted the inboard end of the grating high in the air; afellow midshipman standing by pulled aside the covering flag; thelittle body started, moved slowly,--more rapidly; there was a flash oflight in the air, a splash in the water alongside.
The chaplain motioned for another; it was a man this time,--all therest were men; four of the seamen lifted him up. Again the few shortsentences, and the sailor was launched upon another voyage of life.Tears were streaming from eyes unused to weeping, tracing unwontedcourses down the strangely weather-beaten, wrinkled cheeks; menmourning the loss of shipmate and messmate, friend and fellow. Thelast one in the row was a gigantic man; over his bosom was laid alittle blood-stained flag of different blazoning: there was the bluefield as in the heavens, white stars, and red and white stripes thatenfolded him like a caress. The sailors lifted him up and waited amoment, until the tall, stately, distinguished figure of the colonel,in his plain civilian dress, stepped out from the group of officers andstood beside the grating; he put his hand upon the flag of his country,glad to do this service for a faithful if humble friend. It was soonover; with a little heavier splash old Bentley fell into the sea he hadso loved, joining that innumerable multitude of those who, having donetheir duty, wait for that long-deferred day when the sea shall give upher dead! The woman hid her face within her hands, the great bell ofthe ship tolled solemnly forward, the sun had set, the men weredismissed, the watch called, and the night fell softly, while the shipglided on in the darkness.
Another week had elapsed. The Yarmouth had been driven steadilynorthward, and by contrary winds prevented from making her course. Shewas in a precarious condition too; a further examination had disclosedthat some of her spars, especially the mainmast, had been so severelyand seriously wounded, even more so than at first reported, as scarcelyto permit any sail at all to be set on them, and not fit in anyway toendure stress of weather. The damages had been made good, however, asfar as possible, the rigging knotted and spliced, the spars fished andstrengthened as well. The ship had been leaking slightly all the time,from injuries received in the fight, in all probability; but a fewhours at the pumps daily had hitherto kept her free, and though thecarpenter had been most assiduous in a search for the leaks, and hadstopped as many as he had been able to come at, some of them could notbe found. The weather had steadily changed for the worse as they hadreached higher latitudes, and it was now cold, rainy, and verythreatening. The captain and his officers were filled with anxiety andforeboding. Katharine kept sedulously in her cabin, devoured by griefand despair; and the once cheery colonel, full of deep sympathy for hisunfortunate daughter, went about softly and sadly during the long days.
The day broke gloomily on one certain unfortunate morning; they had notseen the sun for five days, nor did they see it then. No gladsomelight flooded the heavens and awoke the sea; the sky was deeplyovercast with cold, dull, leaden clouds that hung low and heavy overthe mighty ship; a horror of darkness enshrouded the ocean. Away offon the horizon to the northeast the sky was black with great masses offrightful-looking clouds; through the glass the watchful officers sawthat rain was falling in torrents from them, while the vivid lightningplayed incessantly through them. Where the ship was, it had fallensuddenly calm, and she lay gently rolling and rocking in the moderateswell; but they could see the hurricane driving down upon them, comingat lightning speed, standing like a solid wall, and flattening thewaves by sheer weight. All hands had been called on deck at once, atthe first glimpse of the coming hurricane. Desborough had the trumpet;the alert and eager topmen were sent aloft to strip the ship of thelittle canvas which the heavy weather and weakened spars had permittedthem to show. It was a race between them and the coming storm. Themen worked desperately, madly; some of them had not yet reached thedeck when the rain and the wind were upon them. By the captain'sdirection, the colonel had brought Katharine from below, and she wasstanding on the quarter-deck sheltered by the overhang of the poopabove, listlessly watching. Desborough had made no progress in hislove-affairs; he had too much tact and delicacy to press his suit underthe present untoward circumstances, and indeed had been too incessantlyoccupied with the pressing exigencies of the shattered ship, and theduties of his responsible position thereon, to have any time to sparefor more than the common courtesies. The awful storm was at last uponthem: a sudden change in its direction caused the first fierce blow tofall fairly upon the starboard side of the ship; it pressed her down onher beam-ends; over and over she went, down, down. Would she everright again? Ah, the spliced shrouds and stays on the weather-side,which had been that attacked by the Randolph, finally gave way, themainmast went by the board about halfway below the top, the foremast atthe cap, and the mizzentopmast, too; relieved of this enormous mass ofheavy top hamper, the ship slowly righted herself. The immense mass ofwreckage beat and thundered against the port side; it was a fearfulsituation, but all was not yet lost. Gallantly led by Desboroughhimself, who saw in one sweeping glance that Katharine was still safe,the men, with axes and knives, hacked through
the rigging which heldthe wreck of the giant spars to the ship, and after a few moments ofsickening suspense she drifted clear; a bit of storm canvas was spreadforward on the wreck of the foremast, and the ship got before the windand drove on, laboring and pitching in the heavy sea. The decks werecleared; and indeed there was little left to clear, the waves havingbroken over her several times when she lay in the trough of the sea,sweeping everything out with them, and the vessel was a totalwreck,--the spars gone, rails and bulwarks battered in and smashed,boats lost, the battle having destroyed these on the starboard side,and the wreck and the sea the others. Stop! there was one boat leftamidships, a launch capable of holding about forty persons in a pinch,and still seaworthy; it was, by the captain's order, promptly made asserviceable as possible in view of the probable emergency.
About four o'clock in the afternoon the carpenter came aft with thesounding-rod of the well in his hand. The strain had been too much forher; some of the weakened timbers had given way, or some of the seamshad opened, or perhaps a butt had started, for the ship was leakingbadly. Still those dauntless men did not despair. The crew were toldoff in gangs to work, and all night the clank, clank, of the pumps washeard. Katharine dutifully laid down as she was bidden; but there wasno sleep for her nor any one else on the ship that long night. The daybroke again finally, but brought them no cheer: their labor had beenunavailing; the leak had gained on them so rapidly that the ship laylow in the water, listless and inert, rolling in a sick, sluggish,helpless way in the trough of the sea. The wind had abated somewhat,and a boat well handled might live in the water now. By CaptainVincent's direction the men were sent to their stations on the spar, orupper deck. The boat's crew was chosen by selecting every fifteenthman in the long lines, the division officers doing the counting. Theboat was launched without tackles, by main strength, sliding on rollersover the side through the broken bulwarks. Katharine, listless andindifferent, still attended by Chloe, was put aboard. Captain Vincentlooked about among his officers; whom should he put in charge? Theyall looked deprecatingly and entreatingly at him. None desired to go;no one wished to be singled out to abandon the ship and his brotherofficers. His glance fell on Desborough.
"The duty is yours; you are the first officer of the ship."
"Oh, Captain Vincent, do not send me, I beg you. My place surely is onthe ship with you. Cannot some one else--"
"No, you must go. My last command to you, my lord," he said, smilingfaintly and extending his hand. Desborough, seeing the futility offurther appeal, grasped it warmly in both his own, bowed to the otherofficers, and with a wave of his hand stepped on the rail and spranginto the tossing boat alongside.
"Are there any others to go?" he said.
The captain's eye fell upon the figure of the colonel standing amongthe officers.
"You are to go, sir. Nay, I will hear of no objections. You are myprisoner, and I am bound to see you delivered safely. Go, colonel. Imean it; I will have you put aboard by a file of marines if you do notgo at once."
Katharine awoke from her apathy and stretched out her hands with apiteous cry,--
"Father, father, oh, I cannot lose you too."
"Prisoner or no prisoner, sir," said the colonel, "let me say that I amproud of my connection with you and your officers and your men. If Ilive to reach the shore, the world shall hear of this noble ending.Good-by, captain; good-by, gentlemen. I would fain stay with you."
"No, no!" was the cry from this band of heroes; and then Hollins sprangforward and shouted,--
"Lads! Three cheers for the colonel and for our shipmates in thelaunch! Let them tell at home that we were glad to stay by the oldship."
The hearty cheers came with a roar from five hundred throats.
"Good-by, good-by; God bless you!" cried the colonel, choking andutterly overcome, as he got into the boat, and sank down in the sternsheets beside his daughter.
"Colonel, we have n't a moment of time," whispered Desborough, who sawthat the ship was sinking.
"Shove off, men; pull hard!"
A few moments of hard rowing in the heavy sea put them some littledistance away, and the boat waited under just enough way to give themcommand of her. The men of the ship kept their stations; calm andpeaceful, they also waited. The ship settled lower and lower; a manstepped hurriedly aft; and a moment later the bold and brilliant ensignof Old England, which never waved over braver men, fluttered out in theheavy breeze from the wrecked mast-head, the vivid red of the proudflag making a lurid dash of color against the gray sky-line. The shipwas lower now. Now she plunged forward; the water rose; the captainraised his hand; three hearty cheers rang out; the drums beat; themarines presented arms. She was gone! The flag streamed out bravelyon the surface of the water, and then it was drawn down; a confusedmass of heads and waving arms was seen in the water, and they too in amoment were slowly drawn down into the vortex caused by the sinkingship. The woman again hid her face in her hands; the colonel laid hisarm across the shoulder of his daughter; Desborough and the men in theboat stared horribly at the spot left vacant; a deep groan broke fromthem; they rose on the crest of a wave, sank down again, rose once moreand looked again,--the little boat was alone on that mighty sea!
Oh, the agony of those long and frightful days in that little boat!Never a sail did they sight, as day after day they rowed or sailed tothe westward, eagerly scanning the horizon for a landfall. The waveswashed over them, saturating their clothing; the chill winds of winterfroze them. First their provisions gave out, though served with themost rigid economy by Desborough himself; then the water, husbanded asno precious jewel was ever hoarded, was exhausted to the last drop, andthat drop, by common consent, Desborough forced between Katharine'sreluctant lips, though she would fain have refused it, claiming noindulgence beyond the others. The rare qualities of that young officershowed themselves brilliantly in this frightful peril. It was due tohis skill and careful management that they were not swamped a dozentimes; tireless, unselfish, cheerful, unsparing of himself, without himthey would have died. The men bore their sufferings, when all food andwater failed them, with the sturdy resolution of British sailors;Desborough his, with the courage of the hero that he was, his fiercestpang being for the white-faced girl who suffered in uncomplainingsilence. The colonel exhibited the stoical indifference of a seasonedold soldier, as to his own personal condition, all his thoughts beingcentred upon his daughter, who passed through the dreadful experiencewith the calm resignation of a woman who had nothing left to live for,and, strange to say, seemed to feel it less acutely than the rest; evenblack Chloe, who had impartially shared with her mistress in all thefavors accorded to her, being in a state of utter exhaustion, amountingto collapse.
When the pangs of hunger and thirst got hold of them, they refused--andwere indeed entirely unable--to work longer with the oars, so that,unless the wind was fair and the sail was set, they simply drifted on.
One by one the sailors died. Waking from a troubled sleep of shortduration, Katharine one day found Chloe's dead hand around her feet,her cold lips pressed upon them. Some of the men grew mad before theydied, and raved and babbled of green fields and running brooks untilthe end came, and still the little boat drifted on. Few and short werethe prayers the living said as, day by day they cast the dead into thesea. Desborough, the resolute, with undying strength kept steadily atthe helm. Once only did he speak to Katharine in words of love. Astheir situation grew more and more hopeless, and even his resoluteoptimism began to fail him, he bent down and whispered in her ear,--
"I would not trouble you now, Katharine, but before we die I must tellyou once again that I love you. Will you believe it?"
"I will believe it," she answered dully, giving him her hand. Oh, hethought in agony, as he bent over it and kissed it, how thin and whiteand feeble it was I One morning, after hope was dead, he was listlesslyscanning the line of the horizon as the rising sun threw it intorelief, more from habit than expectancy, when his heart almost
stoppedits feeble beating, for land was there before him if his strained eyesdid not deceive him. Doubting the evidence of his weakened senses, andfearing the delusions of a disordered imagination, he refrained fromcommunicating his impressions to any of the others until the light ofday determined the accuracy of his vision. Then he whispered the newsto Katharine, the apathetic woman told it to the sinking colonel, andthen Desborough cried it to his dying crew. The wind sprang up at themoment too, and in a few hours they beached the boat upon a low sandyshore, with the waves breaking gently over it in long easy rollers. Itwas a desolate coast, sparsely wooded with small trees, and havinglittle evidence of human habitation about it; but no glimpse of heavencould have more rejoiced a dying soul than this bleak haven to whichthey had been brought. They staggered, half fell, out of the boat, andlay exhausted, with ghastly haggard faces, on the shining sands, givingthanks to God for His mercy.
Desborough, as the strongest of the party, started inland, finding byand by a little stream of fresh water, and farther on, on higherground, seeing a house, the smoke curling from its chimneys showingthat it was inhabited. To the bubbling spring he half led, halfdragged his shipwrecked party. They drank sparingly by his direction,and were refreshed, for with the cool water life and hope came back tothem once more. Then he left them again and went on to the house.They had landed on the shore of Virginia, and the people of the housewelcomed and cared for the poor castaways, sharing with them theirhumble store with the kindly hospitality for which the land was famous.Their long voyage was at an end, their troubles were over. The coloneland Katharine would be free again; they might go home once more, andDesborough would be a prisoner.
For Love of Country: A Story of Land and Sea in the Days of the Revolution Page 40