Woven with the Ship: A Novel of 1865

by Cyrus Townsend Brady

  CHAPTER XXII

  "SAMSON AGONISTES"

  As Revere and Barry walked down the hill the soul of the younger manwas filled with light-hearted joy. He talked gayly to the old sailor,who had speedily joined him; and although the monologue--since Barryhad said nothing--could not have been called a conversation, Richarddid not heed his silence.

  It was but a short distance from the house to the ship, but in thebrief time required for the passage Barry lived over his life, or thatpart of it at least which was of moment. As life is compassed ininstants to the drowning, so in these seconds through his mentalvision swept the past. He saw again the admiral as he had seen him inthe prime of manhood; he recalled once more the blue-eyed, sunnylittle baby he had held so tenderly in his unfamiliar arms; who, inthe society of the two men, had grown to be a woman whom he loved. Thedays and years of happy companionship, of humble and faithful serviceon the one hand, of kind and generous recognition on the other, passedbefore him with incredible swiftness.

  The thought moved him to a sudden tenderness. As his eyes fell uponthe gay, debonair figure walking so carelessly by his side, hehesitated. For a moment his determination wavered. Revere did not lookor act like a scoundrel, perhaps; but with equal swiftness came theterrible evidence of those papers, those damning papers in the locker!The ship, the maiden! The one was to be sold, the other betrayed.Under God, that should never be! And he had kissed her. He was boundto another. And she loved him and had wept before him. This triflerwas breaking her heart.

  Every laugh that rang in his ears in his changed mood added intensityto his malign purpose. He was no murderer, though. He believedhimself a chosen instrument in God's hand to effect a mightypurpose,--salvation to those he loved.

  Alas! humanity is never so hopelessly blind as when it does wrong,believing that God sanctions it for some longed-for end.

  The two men stopped as they reached the ship.

  "It's just here, sir," said the old sailor, hoarsely. "I've beenexaminin' her all mornin'. The supports is rottin' away. I think atouch'll send her down. Would you mind goin' in there an' takin' alook?"

  He pointed toward a place on the keel enclosed between two rows ofweather-worn timbers, which supported, or helped to support, the bodyof the ship. It was the place where, the night before, he and Emilyhad pledged their hearts to each other and solemnly plighted theirtroth. Revere recognized the spot, of course, with a thrill ofrecollection; but of course he made no mention of the fact. Barry knewit, however, and for that reason he had chosen it. The choice was partof his revenge. Where Revere had loved--or trifled--there he shoulddie!

  "Looks bad, doesn't it?" Revere said, walking into the _cul-de-sac_ socarefully prepared for him, and stooping down and laying his finger onthe mouldering keel.

  Barry promptly followed him and stood between the outermoststanchions, barring the exit. The unconscious Revere was completelyenclosed. The keel on the rotting ways was in front of him, on eitherside the close rows of supports, overhead the mighty floor of theship, back of him the huge form of Captain Barry. He suspectednothing, however,--how should he?--until he turned to go back afterhis brief examination, when he was greatly surprised to find the wayblocked.

  His situation beneath the ship was such that he could not even standupright, but was forced to remain in a crouching position of greatdisadvantage before the sailor. The old man stood with his armsextended from stanchion to stanchion, a perfect tower of strength anddetermination. It was useless for Revere, even if he had realized atthat moment what was about to happen, to attempt to move him by force.In his weakened state he could do nothing. Even at his best he was nomatch for the huge old giant barring his way.

  The old man's face was engorged with blood, his jaw was set rigidly,and a little fleck of foam hung upon his nether lip. There was such aglare of demoniac rage in his eyes, such an expression of mortalbitterness and malevolent antipathy in his grim and forbiddingcountenance, that the heart of the young man, though he was as brave asailor as ever trod a deck, sank within him. He was fairly appalled bythis display of sinister and unsuspected passion.

  "My God, man!" cried Revere. "What's the matter? Stand aside!"

  "No, sir, you can't pass me. I'll never stand aside. Say a prayer,for, as there's a ship above you an' a God that favors no traitors,your hour is come."

  His usually rough voice, harsher than ever on account of his emotion,was shaking with passion.

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean to kill you where you stand, where you kissed her last night,you traitor, you dog, you that disgraces your uniform, you that sellsmy ship, mine! You that robs the old admiral of life, that betraysMiss Emily, that breaks her heart! You thought to play with thatchild. But I know you! I found your orders. I read 'em, curse you! Tosell the ship,--God! my ship, that I've lived on, that I've loved, fortwenty-five years! I read your letters writ by that woman you're goin'to marry! I saw you kiss Miss Emily, I saw her go from you cryin'!Tears for you, damn you! You've got to die, an' I'll die with you!You'll have the company of a better man to hell, where you belong!"

  The old man's voice rose almost to a scream as he recounted the ideaswhich had goaded him to this madness. The torrential sentences of thegrim indictment fairly burst from his lips with ever-increasing forceand fury. Revere heard him in a daze of surprise, at first scarcelycomprehending the man's meaning; yet, after all, his words explainedmany things. As soon as the lieutenant found voice he protested.

  "Barry, I swear to you----"

  "Silence! It's too late to swear!"

  Revere was brave; he fain would not die without a struggle for hislife. Indeed, he had not divined the manner of his death; but beforehe could spring forward, Barry, as if he understood what he was aboutto do, said, ruthlessly,--

  "Stand where you are! If you move, I'll kick you to death like a dog!"

  He could easily have done it, as the advantage of position was withhim. Rather anything than that, thought Revere, shuddering at thebrutality of it. A prisoner, he could do nothing. The man was mad. Ifhe chose to carry out his purpose, whatever it might be, the young manwas helpless.

  "Very well, Barry," he said, instantly accepting the situation, andsummoning all his resolution to meet the inevitable, though his cheeksand lips were white, "you saved my life once, you may take it backnow. I wish I could die standing, but if I cannot, why kneeling is asgood a way as any for a man to meet his Maker. You tell me to say aprayer. Here it is. May God have mercy on your soul and on my soul,and may He keep the child. That's all."

  Not moving from his position, the old man began kicking at thestanchions. The one on the right was defective, and gave way and fellat the first blow. A shiver seemed to run through the ship; Richard,for the first time, divined what was about to happen. He lookedforward and aft. The effective supports were all gone; some rottenones remained, outwardly intact, but bound to go under almost anypressure; the few sound ones left had been carefully sawed almostthrough. Why had he not noticed it? The whole ship, therefore,practically rested on a single stout stanchion toward which Barry hadalready turned. It was a splendid piece of timber, and Barry had putit in himself a year before. When that came down, the ship would crashinto ruins and bury them beneath it.

  As the prop upon the right had fallen, the hope leaped into his mindthat he might get away through the gap; but Barry reached down andgrasped him by the collar with one hand the instant the way was open,and held him firmly while he turned his attention to the otherstanchion. It was hopeless for Revere to attempt anything.

  Strange as it may seem, there was a certain admiration for the sailorin Revere's mind, even in that frightful moment. He realized that theattack upon him was not inspired by any petty cause. Given the beliefof the sailor, it was natural; he respected him for his desire to stopwhat he believed to be base treachery; and Revere could have loved himfor his willingness to sacrifice himself to prevent what he conceivedto be a crime against the life of the admiral, the happiness of Emily,and the existence o
f the ship.

  "Barry," said Revere, calmly,--he was quite master of himself now,--asthe old man struck the last sound support a heavy blow with his foot,"I must tell you, not because I am afraid to die, or because I fearyou, but to acquit myself of evil purpose in your mind, that myengagement with that other woman is broken; that not an hour ago, inmy mother's presence, the admiral promised to give me hisgranddaughter to be my wife."

  "The ship?" cried Barry, hoarsely, as he felt his vengeance slippingaway from him, the cause itself being taken.

  "I offered to buy it myself and leave it standing until it fell."

  Men do not often lie in the very presence of death, and truth spoke inthe younger man's voice,--truth so clear that it pierced the torturedsoul of the jealous, mad, broken sailor. But, like many another manconvinced against his will, he refused to accept these statements. Itwas a device, a cunning attempt to stay his hand and gain a life. Hewould not heed.

  "I don't believe you, damn you!" he said, kicking furiously at thestanchion.

  The last blow loosened it. Under the tremendous pressure from above,the stick began slowly, very slowly, to slide on its wooden shoe. Itsmotion was scarcely perceptible, yet it moved. Barry released his holdon it, took a single backward step, and Revere rose to his feet. Barryinstantly grappled him with both hands. Revere was as a child in thatiron grasp. He did not struggle. He would preserve his dignity in theface of death, and to attempt to escape would have been futile,anyway. The two faces confronted one another, the sailor's convulsedwith anguish and rage, the officer's pale, but smiling a little; bothequally determined.

  Forward and aft the rotten or sawed supports were giving way in quicksuccession. Above them the ship was trembling and shivering from stemto stern. A strange creaking was heard. A moaning cry, swelling into adeep groan of anguish that had a sound of despair unspeakable in it.The death-song of the ship! It was coming down on the ways! Movingtoward the water at last!

  Fascinated, Revere turned his face upward and watched the shiveringframe above his head, murmuring, as he did so, Emily's name. The hugebulk seemed to rise in the air for a second. To his distorted visionit appeared to sway back and forth, up and down, yet it had scarcelybegun to move.

  Ah! was it upon them?

  It all happened in a few seconds. In another it would be over. Revereclosed his eyes.

  At that instant a scream fraught with terrible agony broke upon theears of the two men.

  "The ship is falling!" cried Emily's voice, high-pitched, shrill withmortal terror. "Richard! What are you doing? Oh, God! Captain Barry,save him!"

  "Would that she might have been spared this!" flashed into Revere'smind. He would have called to her had not something happenedinstantly.

  The voice awakened the dormant reason in the old man's being. Sheloved this boy; perhaps he had told the truth.

  "Save him! save him!"

  The words rang in his ears. He had never disobeyed a command of hers.He would not now. Too late! There was a terrible grating sound; thelast stanchion was grinding in its wooden shoe; it was sliding faster!In another moment the ship would be upon them! He had turned his headas the first cry had met his ear, and had seen in one swift glanceEmily and another woman not a hundred feet away. Emily was bendingforward, her hands outstretched, struggling. She would have run tothem under the ship had not the other woman held her firmly,protectingly. Both girls were white as death.

  Barry seized Revere by the collar and threw him violently far fromhim. The young man pitched downward and fell headlong on the grass inthe direction of the two women. The ground sloped abruptly away towardthe water on that side of the ship. In that same instant the sailorthrew up two great arms and caught the impending ship. He took theplace of the quivering, buckling, sliding oaken timber. For a secondhe stood there in mighty majesty, a pillar of strength and resolution,a tower of flesh and blood, sustaining a ship-of-the-line, a humanstanchion, magnificent in the frenzied, awful expression of a powersuperhuman. Rigid, unbreakable, indomitable, he shored up theship,--Atlas holding the world!

  "Go!" he gasped.

  Revere, who had risen instantly, stepped toward him as if to assisthim.

  "Go! Can't hold----"

  It had come. Angry at the momentary check, the ship fell upon the manas an avalanche falls upon the mountain. Beneath it the mighty kneeswere bowing, the stubborn back bending, the great arms trembling.

  Revere sprang backward and slipped far down the slope.

  As he fell he caught sight of burning eyes from a face white as thesea-froth, of lips set and bloodless, of jaws clinched, of sweatstanding upon a bronzed forehead--picture impressed upon his soulforever!

  There was a mighty roaring, detonating crash and all was over.

  Crushed were the mighty arms, beaten down the massive shoulders,broken the iron knees. The life of the man went out in the fall, andthe blood of his heart rippled along the blocks of the keel. With aconcussion like the discharge of a battery, the mighty war-monstercollapsed into a shapeless mass of timber, burying beneath it the manwho had loved it best. The ship that had been his own was nothing buta heap of ruins above his still heart.

  A cloud of dust rose and hung over the wreck in the quiet air.

  War was to have been the trade of that ship-of-the-line. Blood shouldhave run upon her white decks, death she should have dealt out andreceived, great battles should have made her famous, heroic men shouldhave written her name eternally on the red pages of her country'shistory. Now it was finished; and yet, in the ending at least, therehad been a slight fulfilment of her destiny--to kill.

  No struggle could have been more superb than the quiet one just over;no effort more magnificent, no conflict more terrible, than thatbetween the man and the ship. No ship had ever claimed a nobler victimthan Barry, after all, and no fate could have been more fitting thanthat which had come to man and ship together in the end.

  The old war-vessel had lived through the still ages of peace, hadsurvived the long period of decay, had endured the disintegratingassaults of time, only to accomplish her manifest purpose ofdestruction as she fell.

  And the hand that had loved her was the hand that had laid her low!

  With dreadful feelings in their hearts, the three stood looking at theruins of the ship.

  "Barry! Captain Barry!" screamed Emily, wildly. "Where is he?"

  "There!" gasped Revere, hoarsely.

  "And is there no hope?"

  "None. He is gone forever. My God, wasn't it terrible? He held up theship!"

  "Grandfather!" cried the girl, distraught. "Let us run to him."

  The old man still sat on the porch, staring at what had been theobject of his gaze for so many years. There was a peaceful, yetsorrowful, look upon his face. He had seen the ship fall; he realizedthat his hour had come. He was fronting death and he knew it, yet hewas as calm as he had been when he had fronted death many times yearsbefore. They gathered about him, understanding, helpless.

  "Ay," he said, "the cruise is over. Where's Barry?"

  "Under the ship, sir."

  "And a good end! Strike the flag. I've lost my last command."

  Instantly Revere ran to the foot of the staff and silently cast offthe halliards. As the little blue flag of a rear-admiral, with itswhite stars, came floating gracefully, reluctantly, down from themasthead where it had flown so long, the veteran slowly and painfullyrose to his feet. With his right hand he lifted the sword of the_Constitution_, with his old vigor and his old grace he bared theblade and brought it up before him in graceful salute, while the flagfell into Revere's arms.

  "Come aboard, sir," he said, softly, as if to an Eternal Captain.

  He stood erect a moment and then sank gently back into the chair. Forthe first time in his life he forgot the weapon in his hand. The swordfell clattering at his feet. The emblem of power, authority, and rank,all now slipping from him, lay neglected where it fell. A smilequivered upon his lips, but otherwise he sat still and quiet, lookingout into the future. A few
seconds. The light faded from his eyes, thelife left his heart. The ship had fallen, the flag was down. It wasthe end.

  The old man had entered the last haven, dropped anchor in the finalharbor. The little breeze which lifted his white hairs so tenderly hadwafted his soul into another country, a better--that is, an heavenly!

  With a low cry, Emily threw herself on her knees before him.

  Down on Ship House Point a light, a flame, burst out amid the torn andshattered timbers. In a few moments the ruins of the now unheeded shipwere blazing furiously. Barry had cunningly planned it so that theship, after it had buried him, should be his funeral pyre.

  Fitting it might have been, thought Revere in his heart, as he lookedat the flames roaring up from the ship, if the body of the admiral,like that of the Vikings of old, might have been laid upon its burningtimbers.

  * * * * *

  L'ENVOI.

  When he was buried, his country, recognizing his merit and rememberinghis services again, sent its best to honor him in death. AdmiralFarragut, with a brilliant staff, was there. He was of the navy of thepresent, Revere represented the navy of the future, and both stoodtogether at the grave of the navy of the past.

  They buried him on the high hill overlooking Ship House Point. Down onthe Point, at the admiral's feet as it were, and just where the shiphad stood, Revere erected a huge block of rough granite which borethis inscription:

  JOHN BARRY, Chief Boatswain's Mate of the United States Ship-of-the-Line _Susquehanna_, Who perished in the fall of that ship, September 20th, 1865. "_Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends._"

  In the lofty character of his motives, in the atonement of hisself-sacrifice, in the greatness of his end, his purpose ofdestruction was forgotten.

  When his naval duties permitted, Emily and Richard often came back tothe old white house on the hill in the summer, and to Charles StewartRevere, John Barry Revere, little Emily Revere, and Richard Revere,Junior, it was the most fascinating spot on earth. They stand withtheir father by the huge Celtic cross which marks the admiral'sresting-place, and hear again the story of the sword of the_Constitution_, destined one day to be drawn against the country inwhich it had been made. Or--and this they like even better--they sitwith their mother (lovelier in Richard's eyes with every passing year)beneath the shadow of the mighty rock on the Point, while she tellsthem stories of old John Barry, and how at the last he held up theship.