by Anonymous
CHAPTER V.
On clearing the harbour of Cadiz, Hildebrand put his ship on asouthward course, intending, while he was yet favoured by thewind, to run for the Azores. He had previously learned fromHalyard, on discussing the policy of such a step, that theMexican fleet was still at sea, and he was in hopes that he wouldcome up with it about that quarter, if he should not meet it onthe way. In this expectation, he set everything in order to carrythe design which led him to seek it practicably out.
Meantime, Don Rafaele, on coming on the open water, was attackedwith sea-sickness, and was obliged to be carried to the cabin.Having seen the watch set, and directed a good look-out to beposted for’ard, Hildebrand followed him thither, purposing toattend to his requirements himself. He found him bestowed inbed, in one of the two sleeping-berths, but, as may be imagined,far from being disposed for sleep. He was, however, equallyindisposed for conversation, and, when Hildebrand approachedto greet him, he waved him back, and buried his head under thebedclothes.
For three successive days, he remained in the same state, withouttaking any food, or uttering a single word. In the mean time,the wind, which had originally been no more than what is called“fresh,” gradually grew boisterous, and, on the second day,increased to a gale. Owing to this circumstance, Hildebrand wasobliged to be constantly on deck, superintending the changeswhich, conformably to the cautious navigation then followed,were continually being made in the disposition of the ship.Nevertheless, he made it a point, every now and then, when hecould be spared for a moment from his duties, to visit thecabin, and inquire if his friend’s sickness had abated. With allhis unfailing attention, however, he could draw from the sickSpaniard only a monosyllable answer, and his recommendations ofrefreshment were always wholly unheeded.
Towards the evening of the third day, the wind abated, and, asa consequence of this change, the rocking of the ship, whichhad hitherto been excessive, became less violent. The subduedmotion had a decidedly beneficial effect on the health of DonRafaele. He answered Hildebrand’s inquiries more fully, andthough, with that distaste for food which is a peculiar featureof sea-sickness, he still declined to eat anything, Hildebrandsucceeded in prevailing on him to take a cup of wine. The wineacted as a soporific, and, after a short interval, he sank into aprofound sleep.
It was broad day when he awoke, and, raising himself up inhis berth, he found the sickening qualms which he had latelyfelt less oppressive, and the whirling sensation in his head,which had been even more afflictive, sensibly mitigated. Owingto the subsidence of the wind, the motion of the ship was nowcomparatively gentle, and, as he found himself able to sit up, heseemed to acquire more confidence, and ventured to look out onthe cabin.
There was no one in the cabin, and the sleeping-berth opposite,which he knew to be appropriated to Hildebrand, was alsountenanted. The cabin was quite light; for though there were nowindows, a large skylight rose through the ship’s deck, aboutthe centre of the cabin, which enabled him to distinguish everyobject. Under the skylight was the table, and, happening toglance thitherwards, he perceived, to his great satisfaction,that it was set out for a meal. The sight of the eatables,arranged in tempting order, on a clean white table-cloth, excitedhis appetite; and for the first time since he came on board, hefelt inclined to eat. He seemed to hesitate a moment; and then,extending his arm, he reached his clothes, which were lying atthe foot of his bed, and proceeded to dress himself.
When he had donned his clothes, he stepped over the locker, whichwas just below his berth, on to the deck, and looked round thecabin more narrowly. In the furthermost corner, adjoining thedoorway, or entrance, and fitting in a small recess, there was awash-hand stand, furnished with a pewter bason; and above this,a pewter water-vessel, which hung from a nail in the wainscot bya string of oakum, tied securely round its long and broad-rimmedneck. A looking-glass, and a towel, apparently fresh from thelaundry, hung on contiguous nails, and, remembering the locality,formed altogether a toilet not to be despised.
The eyes of the young cavalier brightened as these severalarticles incurred his observation. With a step which, consideringthe motion of the ship, and his debilitated condition, was farfrom being unsteady, he hastened to bring them into use. Beforehe did so, however, he carefully closed the door; and, with theaid of a bolt which he found under the lock, and which he shotinto the socket, secured himself against intrusion. This done, heraised his hand to his lips, and--for they now proved to be onlyan assumed feature--drew off his moustachios. His face displayedquite another expression on the removal of the false moustachios.His eyes, which were large and full, seemed to look softer, andto assume a more melting and feminine beauty. His other featuresalso gained by the change, and their exquisite and faultlessoutlines, running into each other in imperceptible gradation,presented in every turn a new charm, and a more fascinatingsweetness. Even his complexion appeared less masculine andvigorous; and its pure alabaster ground, rounded with deep red,which a pensive but stirring animation almost illuminated, wouldhave more become the face of a mellow girl, than that of anapproaching man.
He soon despatched his ablutions, and, with the aid of thenapkin, and the looking-glass (but more especially the latter),shortly fulfilled his toilet. This refreshing process completed,he turned to the contiguous table, and regarded the variouseatables which there rose to view, in the order before described,with augmented satisfaction and appetite.
Nevertheless, when he came to sit down, a very thin slice ofham, with a fragment of biscuit, and a small cup of wine, servedto appease his hunger. Though he ate so sparingly, however, hismeal greatly refreshed him, and, on rising from the table, hefelt himself possessed of increased vigour, and animated by a newspirit.
After pausing a moment at the table, he stepped towards thedoor, and proceeded to ascend to the deck. The motion of theship, which otherwise might have retarded his progress, was nowvery gentle, and, with the help of an accommodating side-rope,he passed up the ladder with ease. As he stepped throughthe hatchway to the deck, he observed Hildebrand, with hislieutenant, Halyard, standing right before him, and, steadyinghis foot against the combing, he stretched out his hand, andseized him familiarly by the arm.
Hildebrand--whose face had been turned the other way--startedround directly.
“Well done, my brave Senhor!” he exclaimed, with an earnestsmile, at the same time clasping the cavalier’s extended hand, “Iam right merry to see thee up again.”
Before Don Rafaele could make any reply, Master Halyard, hearingthe salutation of his captain, also turned round, and caught uphis other hand.
“Shiver my topsail!” cried the honest tar, in an odd mixture ofSpanish and English phrases, “but I be heartily glad to see theeafloat again, Master Don. ’Tis sheer idling to lay long on one’sbeam-ends. Life is but short; let us live well on the road, saysthe gentle Shepherd of Salisbury Plain.”
“I thank you both, fair gentlemen,” answered Don Rafaele. “I nowfeel quite strong again, though, having the heart of a landsman,I still long for the shore. But have we the breeze with us?” headded, with that curiosity about the wind, which, whatever may beour situation, one always feels at sea, and is never inclined tocheck.
“Right heartily,” replied Hildebrand. “Mark how gallantly webuffet the waves!”
Don Rafaele, with a smile, raised his eyes, and swept themeagerly around.
When we behold ourselves out of sight of land for the firsttime, with no horizon, as far as the eye can any way pierce, butthe unbroken sky, rising from the water’s edge in gradual andinseparable lines, and covering the vast circle we move in withits eternal dome--which, shoot forward as we may, still presentsthe same circuit, and seems to hold us ever in its centre;--whenwe view such a prospect for the first time, the heart feels, inthe surrounding immensity, a keener sense of its own littleness,and of its insignificance in the scale of the creation, than inany other situation that life affords. The black waves, mountingin a hundred heads, and then falling under one crowning swell,which, rolling f
orward, is itself overtopped, and lost in itssuccessor:--the black waves, thus rushing by, remind one of theonward course of life, of the mutability of human fortunes, andthe briefness of mortality.
Such was the reflection that rose in the mind of the youngSpaniard. But it passed away directly, and the more cheerfulfeatures of the scene--for it was not without cheerfulfeatures--engaged his whole attention.
The sun was high in the heavens, and a long line of dazzlingsunshine, looking more like light than reflection, was spreadout in the wake of the ship, making the white surf that markedher course fairly sparkle. The sky, though so high over head,was almost transparent, and the few clouds that broke its vastarch were light and buoyant, and served rather to relieve itssameness, than to contract its beauty. Nor were there wantingobjects of interest on the water. Looking over the ship’s side,Don Rafaele beheld, at a little distance, squadrons of gulls,not unvaried in their plumage, sailing gaily by, or occasionallymounting into the air, and wheeling round and round towards thesky. Alongside was the active porpoise, rolling over and overon the waves, and seeming, by the regularity of his progress,to measure his speed to that of the ship. Every now and then,too, a lively bonito, either from mere sportiveness, or toavoid some approaching and voracious enemy, would leap bodilyinto the air, and, after performing a perfect summerset, dropinto the deep again, and be seen no more. If the eye pushed itssurvey further, the ship herself, viewed from the quarter-deck,presented much to arrest its attention. The white sails, spreadout before the wind, which filled them to the brim, were not itsmost interesting feature. Sailors were perched in various partsof the rigging, on the yards, and in the shrouds, gazing intentlyfor’ard, whose seemingly perilous situation was a more engrossingobject. Don Rafaele, unused to the economy of a ship, turnedpale as he observed them, and, wheeling round to Hildebrand, heinquired if there was any reason for their being thus disposed.
“They are there of their own choice, Senhor,” answeredHildebrand, with a smile.
“Surely, no!” returned the incredulous Spaniard.
“Indeed, it is even so,” said Hildebrand. “Those birds thou seestyonder, and the scraps of trees and seaweed floating by, tellthem we are near land, and they are striving who shall hail itfirst.”
“A merry conceit, truly,” observed Don Rafaele. “See!” he added,pointing to the top-gallant mast, to which the stout frame ofTarpaulin was clinging, “how yon frail stick, every now and anon,bends with the weight of that sturdy man! Couldst thou thussustain thyself, Sir Lieutenant?”
“I am no ways particular, Master Don,” answered Halyard.
“No, in sooth?” replied Don Rafaele. “Well, I believe thee; andyet, my life! ’tis a right perilous elevation. I’faith, a hair’sturn would there take life away.”
His remark offered a tempting opportunity to Halyard to speakwith effect; and though, as Don Rafaele paused, he saw thatHildebrand was about to reply, he interposed immediately, andgave his sentiments utterance.
“Well,” he said, very quickly, in order that he might come inbefore Hildebrand, “life is but short; let us live well on theroad, says the gentle Shepherd of Salisbury Plain.”
“Land, on the larboard bow!” cried Tom Tarpaulin, from the headof the top-gallant mast.
“Land, on the larboard bow!” cried a dozen voices, from variousparts of the ship.
All was bustle and excitement in a moment. Even Don Rafaele, whohad scarcely been able to steady himself hitherto, comprehendingwhat the cry signified, sprang nimbly to the side of the ship,and looked anxiously round the horizon. Trusting entirely toinstinct, however, he made a slight mistake in the direction,and, instead of going to the larboard bow, posted straight tothe starboard. He was gazing earnestly round, when Hildebrand,who had observed his error, came up with him, and led him to theproper quarter.
Leaving the quarter-deck, they passed to the forecastle, wherethey were able, from their greater elevation, to view the horizonmore fully. Some little time elapsed, however, before Hildebrand,with all his quick sight, could fix the object which he wished topoint out to Don Rafaele. At last, he achieved his purpose, andsucceeded in bringing it under that person’s observation.
It was like a mist, rising out of the water, on the extreme vergeof the horizon; and appeared to be no larger than a man’s hand.Gradually--but by very slow degrees--it grew more apparent,and, after the eye had rested on it for a short space longer,presented a bold and distinct outline.
On this simple object the inmates of the good ship “Eliza” gazedearnestly for several successive minutes. The most protractedgaze elicited no more than was seen by a first and cursoryglance; but, though they were not ignorant of this, every onestill looked upon it, after they had viewed it over and overagain, with unabated interest. It was a landmark, and, though itwas land that they were never to tread, it connected them, byassociation, and by the train of images that it involuntarilyforced into their minds, with the world that they had left, andshowed that the wide waste of waters around was not their onlyhome.
For a little time, Hildebrand and Don Rafaele surveyed thedim landmark in silence. After he had satisfied his curiosityrespecting its aspect, however, the latter person, in his usualmusical voice, proceeded to inquire its name.
“And what land may that be, Senhor?” he inquired of Hildebrand.
“’Tis the island of St. George, one of the Azores,” answeredHildebrand.
“Be the Azores on the way to England?” asked Don Rafaele, withsome surprise.
Hildebrand, from whatever motive, made no reply at the moment;but, turning round, first led him back to the quarter-deck. Whenthey had come to their former position, by the after-hatchway, herendered an explanation.
“Of a surety, they are not in the direct way to England, Senhor,”he said, “for our purpose does not take us thither straight.’Twas for this, and not that I liked not thy fair company, that Ihesitated to bring thee with us from Cadiz.”
“Oh, I care not! I care not!” answered Don Rafaele, with asmile. “I’faith, I am quite a mariner now.”
“Ah, Senhor!” returned Hildebrand, “we may, perchance, nevertread the merry land again. And in this apprehension, I accountnot the perils of the sea, but the more fatal perils of war.”
Don Rafaele looked downcast.
“To one bred up to war, these give no concern,” continuedHildebrand; “but thou art of another mould, and, moreover, tooyoung to be exposed to them.”
“To speak fair sooth,” answered Don Rafaele, in a tremulous tone,“I never cared to turn soldier. ’Tis a merry life, certes; butcommend me to a more peaceful one.”
So spiritless a sentiment was not calculated to excite a responsein the martial bosom of Hildebrand. Although, however, on itsfirst utterance, he originally deemed it mean and unmanly, amoment’s reflection served to set the young Spaniard’s characterbefore him in more pleasing and favourable colours. His nobleheroism in the prison, in throwing himself between him and thealguazil, when such interposition appeared to entail upon himinevitable death, had not escaped his memory; and, though itwas but a momentary impulse, he considered that this act aloneanswered for his courage, and denoted him to be the possessor ofmany admirable qualities. He had, moreover, from the nature ofthe events that had brought them together, and which had markedtheir acquaintance up to the present moment, insensibly begun tolook upon him with regard, and so was further inclined to slightanything that might arise to his disparagement. Thus influenced,he replied to the cavalier in a soothing tone, and without takingany exception, either by his words or manner, to his somewhatirregular sentiment.
“In the passing instance, Senhor,” he said, “thou canst not evenhave the excuse of a soldier for seeking to display thy courage.The enemy we shall encounter will be thine own countrymen.”
“Alas!” sighed Don Rafaele.
“Wert thou not with us, I should look for the issue lessimpatiently,” pursued Hildebrand; “but, as it is, I cannotconceal from thee, in anticipation of the worst, that
their forcewill greatly surpass ours.”
“But we may miss them,” said Don Rafaele.
“But an’ we do not,” answered Hildebrand, more cheerfully, andwith some approach to a smile, “thou must promise me, if we gointo action, that thou wilt hold thyself below the while, and notengage in a contest wherein thou hast no concern.”
“That do I promise heartily,” replied Don Rafaele, with muchearnestness.
“’Tis a wise resolve, and a brave,” said Hildebrand; “for’twould become thee ill to take part against thy country. Itgrieves me sorely to see thee in peril at all.”
“Nay, let it not deject thee,” rejoined Don Rafaele. “When thouart at hand, I have no fear.”
The confidence breathed in his remark made Hildebrand smile.
“Thou leanest on me thus,” he observed, in a grave tone, “becausethou art young. Youth is trusting; but wert thou older, thouwouldst look on me, who am known to thee for so brief a space,with more wariness, and less reliance.”
“In sooth, no, never!” said Don Rafaele, earnestly. “Hardly couldthine own self make me ever doubt thee.”
He paused, and, as though he had just become sensible ofthe eagerness with which he had spoken, and the warmth andearnestness of his manner, and, for some reason or other,considered such a manifestation unbecoming, looked confused.Turning to avoid observation, his eye fell on the ship’s shrouds,and he there discerned something that, seized on the instant,furnished him with an excellent opening for retreat.
“Madonna! see your lieutenant, Senhor!” he said, pointing to theshrouds, which Master Halyard, in order to show that what he hadasserted to him was a fact, and that he was really “no waysparticular,” had mounted barefooted, and was now ascending on hisway aloft. “In faith, he treads the rope to measure, as thoughthere were music playing.”
His astonishment was increased when, on approaching the summitof the shrouds, Master Halyard, instead of pushing through thelubbers’-hole, took the more venturous route upward, and drewhimself on to the topmast-landing over the outside. When he hadgained the landing, he came to a halt; and previous to pursuinghis progress, in which he had yet made but little way, swept hiseye round the horizon.
“A sail to leeward, Sir!” he cried to Hildebrand.
Hildebrand, thus addressed, turned his eye in the directionspecified; but, though he surveyed the horizon earnestly, coulddiscern no trace of the reported ship.
“Three more sail to leeward, Sir!” cried Halyard.
Again Hildebrand turned his eye on the horizon.
“Three more sail to leeward, Sir!” cried Halyard.
Hildebrand’s countenance became more grave.
“Ho there! at the helm!” he shouted: “Bear off a point towindward!”
“Ay, ay, Sir!” was the ready answer of the helmsman.
“Now, Senhor, seize thee a grasp of that pin,” said Hildebrand toDon Rafaele, at the same time pointing to a belaying-pin, or holdfor a rope, that stood out of the ship’s bulwark.
Don Rafaele, without inquiring the object of such a procedure,grasped at the pin on the instant, and then looked to Hildebrandfor further instruction. While his eye yet rested on his face,the helmsman, conformably to his recent orders, suddenly turnedthe helm, and the ship gave a violent pitch on the water.
Don Rafaele turned pale as he felt the deck tremble under him;but, having a firm hold of the belaying-pin, he maintained hisfooting with ease.
“Two more sail to leeward, Sir!” cried Halyard.
Hildebrand, after another glance at the horizon, which revealedno more than his former ones, raised himself on the ship’sbulwark, and mounted into the shrouds. Thence he passed to thetopmast-landing, and there, coming to a halt, joined Halyard.
In this elevated position, he quickly discerned the topmasts ofthe nine ships, like so many separate specks, scattered over theverge of the horizon. His survey, however, did not satisfy him,and, after a moment’s pause, he parted from Master Halyard, andpushed up higher aloft.
It was curious, if any one had marked it, to see what an effecthis ascent from the deck produced on Don Rafaele. That cavalierhad watched the ascent of Master Halyard, described heretofore,with evident interest, but without any show of anxiety; but nosooner did Hildebrand mount the shrouds, than, all at once, hebecame violently agitated. As he viewed his progress upward,his face became pale and red by turns, as though his blood,according as fear or hope predominated, advanced and receded withthe mariner’s every step. When Hildebrand had gained the topmastlanding, he seemed, by the deep breath he exhaled, to have quitea burthen taken from his heart, and to become more composed.But his composure lasted only while Hildebrand was stationary.Directly that person mounted the upper shrouds, on his way to thetop-gallant mast, his emotion revived, and became even more andmore lively. He scarcely breathed till he saw him gain the footof the top-gallant mast. But when, with no help but the adjacenttackle, which appeared to be hardly strong enough to hold up itspulleys, Hildebrand hoisted himself to the yards above, he seemedto lose himself in his excessive agitation. His face fairlyquivered; his lips parted, as it seemed, in speechless terror;and, every now and then, he turned away his eyes, as thoughtheir continued contemplation of Hildebrand’s giddy height couldnot be endured.
At length he beheld Hildebrand clinging round the crowningspar of the ship. As the ship rose and fell over the waves,the slender mast, if it might be called a mast, rocked him toand fro, and appeared on the point of snapping asunder everymoment. Don Rafaele would have been concerned for a bird insuch a dizzying situation. He could look up no longer: if heraised his eyes, he felt giddy himself, and his head swam again.Apprehensive that his agitation might excite remark, which,whatever was his motive, he evidently desired earnestly to avoid,he was about to turn away, when he heard Hildebrand call out.
“Ho, Master Halyard!”
“Ay, ay, Sir!”
“Four more sail to leeward, Sir!”
Don Rafaele, overcome with terror, covered his eyes with hishand. He felt as though the fate of Hildebrand depended on him,and that, if he looked up, the giddiness he would feel wouldseize on Hildebrand, and cast him down headlong. With thisfeeling, he remained perfectly still for several successiveminutes. The brief interval seemed an age; and the uninterruptedrise and fall of his noble chest, which his declining attitudeonly revealed more fully, showed that it stirred within him thedeepest emotion. While he was yet thus agitated, he felt someone’s hand laid gently on his arm, and, starting round, he foundHildebrand at his side.
His soft black eyes sparkled again as he beheld him in safety.
“In sooth, now,” he said, with a bright smile, “I never thoughtto see thee here again. Madonna! but thy dexterity is exceedingmarvellous!”
“Thou thinkest so,” answered Hildebrand, “but mariners, who goaloft for mere sport, hold it lightly. But I grieve to say, weshall even need to have marvellous dexterity afore to-morrow.”
“Is danger so nigh?” asked Don Rafaele.
“Within sight, Senhor,” returned Hildebrand. “But I care not forit myself: my only care is for thee.”
“In faith, I thank thee,” said Don Rafaele, in an earnest tone.“But let thy heart be light. I am right content to be with thee;and, ’fore God, could I be safe back again at Cadiz, I wouldprefer me to be in peril at thy side. Be of good heart, then. Iam no way afeard.”
“Beshrew me, but thou makest me love thee,” said Hildebrand.
“Would God I did!” murmured the cavalier. But, seeing thatHildebrand was about to reiterate his declaration of attachment,he added quickly, with some embarrassment,--“Well, well, Ibelieve it. But I must below. This change of motion makes mereel.”
“Thou wilt be more at ease below, then,” observed Hildebrand.“Moreover, my pantler, by his presence at the hatchway here,invites us down to dinner.”
The pantler, or steward, whose appearance on the deck was thusconsidered introductory to dinner, was standing in the contiguoushatchway; but on the
instant that he was sensible of havingincurred Hildebrand’s attention, he receded from the aperture,and retired to the cabin. Thither he was quickly followed byHildebrand and Don Rafaele, and, in a short time afterwards, byMaster Halyard, who also was in the secret of his noonday visitto the after-hatchway.
Their meal was soon despatched. When they had brought it to aclose, Master Halyard, rising from the table, announced it to behis intention to “turn-in,” as he conjectured that they wouldthat night have little opportunity of taking their usual rest.
“I’faith, no!” answered Hildebrand. “And with thy good leave,Senhor,” he added, to Don Rafaele, “I will even commend me to anhour’s sleep myself.”
“Prithee do,” said Don Rafaele, with an appearance ofsolicitude. “Thou wilt be the better for ’t.”
“’Twould not be amiss for thee,” replied Hildebrand. “Aforemidnight, we may, if this breeze continue, be all confusion.”
“Well, well, I will lay me down,” returned the young cavalier;“for though I be in no mind for sleep, my giddiness doth illqualify me to sit up.”
With these words, he rose from the table, and turned round to hisberth. Planting his feet on the locker, and holding on by thepanel above, he easily raised himself to his berth, and scrambledon to the bed within. Hildebrand disposed himself in the berthopposite, and Master Halyard, to use his own phrase, “hove-to” ina hammock, in the steerage, without the cabin-door.
Although Don Rafaele had not retired to his berth with theintention of seeking repose, but had thrown himself down withoutundressing, he had not been long in a recumbent posture,reflecting on the various circumstances of his situation, beforehe was overtaken by sleep. It was, however, a restless slumber,broken by repeated starts, and was not calculated to refresh orinvigorate him. Still he slept on; and an increased violence inthe ship’s motion, and a variety of noises that prevailed on thedeck above, with other adverse incidents, alike failed to awakehim.
It was quite dark when he did awake. The ship was pitching alittle; and this, with the darkness that prevailed, and thesolemn silence, broken only by a solitary footfall overhead,pacing the quarter-deck, or an occasional creaking of themainmast, depressed him severely. He was soon to have moreserious cause for dejection. While he was musing what course heshould pursue, and whether it would be better, as the night hadnow set in, to remain in his berth, or to take a turn on thedeck, the silence that prevailed was suddenly interrupted by theclamour of several voices. Footsteps were then heard passing overthe deck, and, after a brief pause, the rolling of a drum brokeon his ear.
The stirring call to arms rolled through the ship like thunder.Scarcely had its echoing voice been awakened, when sounds ofstir and bustle, including all manner of noises, rose from everypart of the ship. In a few minutes, however, both the rollingof the drum, and the din that it created, and which was evenmore spirit-stirring, died away; and except for the passage ofan occasional footstep over the deck, or the sound of a voice,raised somewhat above the ordinary pitch, all was quiet.
It might reasonably be expected, from his youth, and his gallantappearance, which one could hardly separate from ideas ofmanliness, that Don Rafaele could not hear the martial rollingof the drum without feeling some of those animating impulseswhich it was so eminently calculated to excite. But, howeverreasonable such an expectation might be, the issue no way bore itout. Far from inspiring him with courage, the stirring alarum,with the various and conflicting noises that ensued, struck himwith a panic; and he felt more inclined to cover himself withthe bedclothes, than eager for action. His excitement was sointense, that it pervaded his whole frame; and, as the din ondeck continued, he trembled in every limb. He grew more composedafter a while; but whether from fear, or that the excitement hesustained had affected his nerves, and so was beyond his control,he was still excessively agitated. Nevertheless, he no longerseemed disposed to remain in his berth. As the restored silencewas prolonged, he planted his two hands firmly on his bed, andmade an effort to rise. Just as he had raised himself up, theroar of artillery burst on his ear; and the ship, which had beensailing pretty steadily a moment previous, reeled under the shockof a dozen cannon.