CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR.
Thou, God of this great vast, rebuke those surges which wash both heaven and hell; and thou that hast upon the winds command, bind then, in brass, having called them from the deep.
SHAKESPEARE.
The shock threw the men off their feet as they raised an appealing cryto Heaven, which was mocked by the howling of the wind and the roar ofthe waters. The masts, which were thrown out from their steps, wavedonce, twice, and then fell over the sides with a crash, as an enormoussea broke over the vessel, forcing her further on the rocks, and causingevery timber and knee in her to start from its place. The masts, asthey fell, and the sea, that at the same moment poured over like animpetuous cataract, swept away thirty or forty of the seamen into theboiling element under the lee. Another and another shock from theresistless and furious waves decided the fate of the resolute captainand master. The frigate parted amidships. The fore part of her, whichwas firmly wedged on the rocks, remained. The quarter-deck andafter-part turned over to the deep water, and disappeared. An enormoussurge curled over it as it went down, and, as if disappointed at notbeing able to wreak its fury upon that part of the vessel, which, bysinking, had evaded it, it drove in revenge upon the remainder, forcingit several yards higher upon the reef.
Two-thirds of the ship's company were now gone--the captain, the master,and the major part of the officers and men, being on the quarter-deckwhen the ship divided. The cry of the drowning was not heard amidst theroaring of the elements. The behaviour of the captain and the officersat this dreadful crisis has not been handed down; but, if we may judgefrom what has already been narrated, they met their fate like Britishseamen.
The fore part of the ship still held together, and, fortunately for thesurvivors, heeled towards the land, so as to afford some protection fromthe force of the seas, which dashed over it at each succeeding swell ofthe billows. Daylight left them, and darkness added to the despair andhorror of nearly one hundred wretches, who felt, at each shock whichthreatened to separate the planks and timbers, as if death was loudlyknocking to claim the residue of his destined victims. Not one word wasexchanged; but, secured with ropes to the belaying-pins, and other partsof the forecastle where they could pass their lashings, they clung andhuddled together, either absorbed in meditation or wailing with despair.Occasionally, one who had supported himself in a difficult and painfulposition, stimulated with the faint hopes of life, to which we all sofondly and so foolishly cling, would find that his strength wasexhausted, and that he could hold no longer. After vainly imploringthose near him to allow him to better his condition by a slight personalsacrifice on their part (an appeal that received no answer), he wouldgradually loose his hold, and drop into the surge that was commissionedby death to receive his prey.
There are situations in human life of such powerful excitement, and inwhich the mechanism of the human frame becomes so rapid in its motion,that the friction of a few days will wear it out. The harrowed feelingsof these poor creatures on the wreck, during the short time that theyremained, had a greater effect in undermining the constitution than manyyears of laborious occupation on shore.
Fellow-countrymen, if you are at all interested with the scenes I am nowdescribing, and which, if you have any feeling, you must be (howeverimperfect the description), let the author, a sailor himself, take thisfavourable opportunity of appealing to you in behalf of a service atonce your protection and your pride. For its sake, as well as your own,listen not to those who, expatiating upon its expense, and silent uponits deserts, would put a stop to hardly earned promotion, and blast withdisappointment the energies of the incipient hero. And may those towhom the people at large have delegated their trust, and in whom theyhave reposed their confidence, treat with contempt the calculations, andmiscalculations, of one without head and without heart!
Daylight again, as if unwillingly, appeared, and the wild scud flew pastthe dark clouds, that seemed to sink down with their heavy burdens tillthey nearly touched the sea. The waves still followed each othermountains high; the wind blew with the same violence; and as the stormypetrels flew over the billows, indicating by their presence that thegale would continue, the unfortunate survivors looked at each other insilence and despair.
I know not whether all seamen feel as I do; but I have witnessed so manymiraculous escapes, so many sudden reverses, so much, beyond all hopeand conception, achieved by a reliance upon Providence and your ownexertions, that, under the most critical circumstances, I never shoulddespair. If struggling in the centre of the Atlantic, with no vessel insight, no strength remaining, and sinking under the wave that boiled inmy ear, as memory and life were departing,--still, as long as life _did_remain, as long as recollection held her seat, I never should abandonHope,--never believe that it is all over with me,--till I awoke in thenext world, and found it confirmed.
What would these men have valued their lives at in the morning? Yet atnoon a change took place: the weather evidently moderated fast; andsilence, that had reigned for so many hours, lost his empire, and thechances of being saved began to be calculated. A reef of rocks, many ofthem above water, over which the breakers still raged, lay between thewreck and the shore, and the certainty of being dashed to piecesprecluded all attempts at reaching it, till the weather became moremoderate and the sea less agitated. But when might that be?--and howlong were they to resist the united attacks of hunger and fatigue?
The number of men still surviving was about seventy. Many, exhaustedand wounded, were hanging in a state of insensibility by the ropes withwhich they had secured themselves. That our hero was among those whoremained need hardly be observed, or there would have been a close tothis eventful history. He was secured to the weather side of theforemast-bitts, supported on the one side by the boatswain, and on theother by Price, the second-lieutenant, next to whom was the captain ofthe forecastle, one of the steadiest and best seamen in the ship, whohad been pressed out of a West Indiaman, in which he had served in thecapacity of second mate.
Our hero had often turned round with an intention to speak to Price; butobserving that he sat crouched with his face upon his hands and knees,he waited until his messmate should raise his head up, imagining that hewas occupied in secret prayer. Finding that he still continued in thesame position, Seymour called to him several times. Not receiving anyanswer, he extended his arm and shook Price by the collar, fearing thathe had swooned from cold and fatigue.
Price slowly raised his head, and looking at Seymour, answered not. Hisvacant stare and wild eye proclaimed at once that reason had departed.Still, as it afterwards appeared, his ruling passion remained; and, fromthat incomprehensible quality of our structure, which proves that themind of man is more fearfully and wonderfully made than the body, thedesertion of one sense was followed by the return of another. His_memory_ was perfect, now that his _reason_ was gone. Surveying thescene around him, he began with all the theatrical action which theropes that secured him would permit, to quote his favourite author:--
"`Blow winds, and crack your cheeks--rage--blow, You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout--'
"`Poor Tom's a-cold'"--then, shuddering, he covered up his face, andresumed his former position.
"Is this a time for spouting profane plays, Mr Price?" said thefanatical boatswain, who was not aware of the poor man's insanity."Hold your peace, and call not judgment on our heads, and I prophesythat we shall be saved. `The waves of the sea are mighty, and ragehorribly; but yet the Lord who dwelleth on high is mightier.'"
Silence ensued, which, after a few minutes, was interrupted by Seymourlamenting over the fate of Captain M--- and the rest of the crew who hadperished.
"Well, they are in heaven before this, I hope?" observed Robinson, thecaptain of the forecastle.
"`Many are called, but few chosen,'" rejoined the boatswain, whoappeared, by the flashing of his eye, to be in a state of strongexcitement. "No more in heaven than you would be, if the Almighty waspleased to cut you off in his wrath."<
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"Where then, Mr Hardsett?" inquired Robinson. "Surely not in--"
"I know--I know,"--cried Price, who again lifted up his head, and, witha vacant laugh, commenced singing--
"Nothing of him that doth fade But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. Sea nymphs hourly ring his knell! Hark! now I hear them--ding-dong-bell."
"For shame, Mr Price!" interrupted the boatswain.
"Ding-dong-ding-dong-bell."
"Mr Price, what does the Scripture say? `Judgments are prepared forscorners,'" continued the boatswain with vehemence.
Price had resumed his former attitude, and made no answer. As soon asthe interruption of the lieutenant had ceased, Robinson resumed hisinterrogatory to the boatswain: "Where then?--not in hell, I hope."
"Ay," returned the latter, "in the fire that is never quenched, and forever and ever."
"I hope not," replied Robinson; "I may deserve punishment, and I know Ido. I've been overhauling my log-book, while the sea here has beendashing over my bows, and washing my figure-head; and there are somethings I wish I could forget;--they will rise up in judgment against me;but surely not for ever?"
"You should have thought of that before, my good fellow. I am sorry foryou,--sorry for all those who have perished, for they were good seamen,and, in the worldly service, have done well. I was reflecting the otherday whether, out of the whole navy, I should be able to muster onesingle ship's company in heaven."
"Well, Mr Hardsett, it's my firm opinion, that when the hands areturned up for punishment in the next world, we shall be sarved outaccording to our desarts. Now, that's my belief; and I shan't change itfor yours, Mr Hardsett, for I thinks mine the more comfortable of thetwo."
"It won't do, Robinson, you must have faith."
"So I have, in God's mercy, boatswain."
"That won't do. Yours is not the true faith."
"Mayhap not, but I hope to ride it out with it nevertheless, for I haveit well backed with hope; and if I still drive,"--said Robinson, musinga short time--"why, I have charity as a sheet-anchor, to bring me upagain. It's long odds but our bodies will soon be knocked to shivers inthose breakers, and we shall then know who's right, and who's wrong. Isee small chance of our saving ourselves, unless indeed we could walk onthe sea, and there was but one that ever did that."
"Had the apostle had faith, he would not have sunk," rejoined theboatswain.
"Have you then more faith than the apostle?"
"I have, thanks be to Jehovah, the true faith," cried the boatswain,raising his eyes and hands to heaven.
"Then _walk on shore_," said the captain of the forecastle, looking himsteadfastly in the face.
Stimulated by the request, which appeared to put his courage as a man,and his faith as a Christian, to the test, and, at the moment, fanaticeven to insanity, the boatswain rose, and casting off the ropes which hehad wound round his body, was about to comply with Robinson's request.
A few moments more, and the raging sea would have received him, had notour hero, in conjunction with the captain of the forecastle, held himdown with all his power. "We doubt not your faith, Mr Hardsett," saidSeymour, "but the time of miracles is past. It would be self-murder.He who raised the storm, will, in his own good time, save us, if hethinks fit."
Price, who had listened to the conversation, and had watched the motionsof the boatswain, who was casting off the lashings which had securedhim, had, unperceived, done the same, and now jumped upon his legs, andcollared the astonished boatswain, roaring out--
"Zounds, show me what thou'lt do! Woul't weep? woul't fight? woul't fast? woul't tear thyself?"
"Why, he's mad!" exclaimed the terrified boatswain, who was not far offthe point himself.
"Mad!" resumed Price.
"Not a soul But felt a fever of the mad, and play'd Some tricks of desperation.
"The king's son, Ferdinand, With hair upstarting (then like reeds, not hair), Was the first man that leaped; cried, Hell is empty, And all the devils are here!"
As the maniac finished the last words, before they could be aware of hisintention, he made a spring from the deck over the bulwark, anddisappeared under the wave. The boatswain, who had been diverted fromhis fanatical attempt by the unexpected attack of Price, more than bythe remonstrances of his companions, resumed his position, folding hisarms, and casting his eyes to heaven. The captain of the forecastle wassilent, and so was our hero--the thoughts of the two were upon the samesubject--eternity.
Eternity--the only theme that confuses, humbles, and alarms the proudintellect of man. What is it? The human mind can grasp any definedspace, any defined time, however vast; but this is beyond time, and toogreat for the limited conception of man. It had no beginning and canhave no end. It cannot be multiplied, it cannot be divided, it cannotbe added unto--you may attempt to subtract from it, but it is useless.Take millions and millions of years from it, take all the time that canenter into the compass of your imagination, it is still whole andundiminished as before--all calculation is lost. Think on--the brainbecomes heated, and oppressed with a sensation of weight too powerfulfor it to bear; reason totters in her seat, and you rise with theconviction of the impossibility of the creature attempting to fathom theCreator--humiliated with the sense of your own nothingness, andimpressed with the tremendous majesty of the Deity.
Time is Man--Eternity is God!
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