Part 38 (2/2)
”Let us think of them that sleep Full many a fathom deep, By the wild and stormy steep, Elsinore!”
_Campbell_.
Long and dreary did the hours appear to Barnstable, before the falling tide had so far receded as to leave the sands entirely exposed to his search for the bodies of his lost s.h.i.+pmates. Several had been rescued from the wild fury of the waves themselves; and one by one, as the melancholy conviction that life had ceased was forced on the survivors, they had been decently interred in graves dug on the very margin of that element on which they had pa.s.sed their lives. But still the form longest known and most beloved was missing, and the lieutenant paced the broad s.p.a.ce that was now left between the foot of the cliffs and the raging ocean, with hurried strides and a feverish eye, watching and following those fragments of the wreck that the sea still continued to cast on the beach. Living and dead, he now found that of those who had lately been in the Ariel, only two were missing. Of the former he could muster but twelve, besides Merry and himself, and his men had already interred more than half that number of the latter, which, together, embraced all who had trusted their lives to the frail keeping of the whale-boat.
”Tell me not, boy, of the impossibility of his being safe,” said Barnstable, in deep agitation, which he in vain struggled to conceal from the anxious youth, who thought it unnecessary to follow the uneasy motions of his commander, as he strode along the sands. ”How often have men been found floating on pieces of wreck, days after the loss of their vessel? and you can see, with your own eyes, that the falling water has swept the planks this distance; ay, a good half-league from where she struck. Does the lookout from the top of the cliffs make no signal of seeing him yet?”
”None, sir, none; we shall never see him again. The men say that he always thought it sinful to desert a wreck, and that he did not even strike out once for his life, though he has been known to swim an hour, when a whale has stove his boat. G.o.d knows, sir,” added the boy, hastily das.h.i.+ng a tear from his eye, by a stolen movement of his hand, ”I loved Tom Coffin better than any foremast man in either vessel. You seldom came aboard the frigate but we had him in the steerage among us reefers, to hear his long yarns, and share our cheer. We all loved him, Mr.
Barnstable; but love cannot bring the dead to life again.”
”I know it, I know it,” said Barnstable, with a huskiness in his voice that betrayed the depth of his emotion. ”I am not so foolish as to believe in impossibilities; but while there is a hope of his living, I will never abandon poor Tom Coffin to such a dreadful fate. Think, boy, he may, at this moment, be looking at us, and praying to his Maker that he would turn our eyes upon him; ay, praying to his G.o.d, for Tom often prayed, though he did it in his watch, standing, and in silence.”
”If he had clung to life so strongly,” returned the mids.h.i.+pman, ”he would have struggled harder to preserve it.”
Barnstable stopped short in his hurried walk, and fastened a look of opening conviction on his companion; but, as he was about to speak in reply, the shouts of the seamen reached his ears, and, turning, they saw the whole party running along the beach, and motioning, with violent gestures, to an intermediate point in the ocean. The lieutenant and Merry hurried back, and, as they approached the men, they distinctly observed a human figure, borne along by the waves, at moments seeming to rise above them, and already floating in the last of the breakers. They had hardly ascertained so much, when a heavy swell carried the inanimate body far upon the sands, where it was left by the retiring waters.
”'Tis my c.o.c.kswain!” cried Barnstable, rus.h.i.+ng to the spot. He stopped suddenly, however, as he came within view of the features, and it was some little time before he appeared to have collected his faculties sufficiently to add, in tones of deep horror: ”What wretch is this, boy!
His form is unmutilated, and yet observe the eyes! they seem as if the sockets would not contain them, and they gaze as wildly as if their owner yet had life--the hands are open and spread, as though they would still buffet the waves!”
”The Jonah! the Jonah!” shouted the seamen, with savage exultation, as they successively approached the corpse; ”away with his carrion into the sea again! give him to the sharks! let him tell his lies in the claws of the lobsters!”
Barnstable had turned away from the revolting sight, in disgust; but when he discovered these indications of impotent revenge in the remnant of his crew, he said, in that voice which all respected and still obeyed:
”Stand back! back with ye, fellows! Would you disgrace your manhood and seamans.h.i.+p, by wreaking your vengeance on him whom G.o.d has already in judgment!” A silent, but significant, gesture towards the earth succeeded his words, and he walked slowly away.
”Bury him in the sands, boys,” said Merry, when his commander was at some little distance; ”the next tide will unearth him.”
The seamen obeyed his orders, while the mids.h.i.+pman rejoined his commander, who continued to pace along the beach, occasionally halting to throw his uneasy glances over the water, and then hurrying onward, at a rate that caused his youthful companion to exert his greatest power to maintain the post he had taken at his side. Every effort to discover the lost c.o.c.kswain was, however, after two hours' more search, abandoned as fruitless; and with reason, for the sea was never known to give up the body of the man who might be emphatically called its own dead.
”There goes the sun, already dropping behind the cliffs,” said the lieutenant, throwing himself on a rock; ”and the hour will soon arrive to set the dog-watches; but we have nothing left to watch over, boy; the surf and rocks have not even left us a whole plank that we may lay our heads on for the night.”
”The men have gathered many articles on yon beach, sir,” returned the lad; ”they have found arms to defend ourselves with, and food to give us strength to use them.”
”And who shall be our enemy?” asked Barnstable, bitterly; ”shall we shoulder our dozen pikes, and carry England by boarding?”
”We may not lay the whole island under contribution,” continued the boy, anxiously, watching the expression of his commander's eye; ”but we may still keep ourselves in work until the cutter returns from the frigate.
I hope, sir, you do not think our case so desperate, as to intend yielding as prisoners.”
”Prisoners!” exclaimed the lieutenant; ”no, no, lad, it has not got to that, yet! England has been able to wreck my craft, I must concede; but she has, as yet, obtained no other advantage over us. She was a precious model, Merry! the cleanest run, and the neatest entrance, that art ever united on the stem and stern of the same vessel! Do you remember the time, younker, when I gave the frigate my top-sails, in beating out of the Chesapeake? I could always do it, in smooth water, with a whole-sail breeze. But she was a frail thing! a frail thing, boy, and could bear but little.”
”A mortar-ketch would have thumped to pieces where she lay,” returned the mids.h.i.+pman.
”Ay, it was asking too much of her, to expect she could hold together on a bed of rocks. Merry, I loved her; dearly did I love her; she was my first command, and I knew and loved every timber and bolt in her beautiful frame!”
”I believe it is as natural, sir, for a seaman to love the wood and iron in which he has floated over the depths of the ocean for so many days and nights,” rejoined the boy, ”as it is for a father to love the members of his own family.”
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