Author: Cyrus Townsend Brady
Category: Nonfiction
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CHAPTER IV
CAST UP BY THE SEA
One early autumn evening in 1865 the sun sank dull and coppery behindbanks of black clouds which held ominous portent of a coming storm.The old admiral sat in a large arm-chair on the porch leaning his chinupon his cane, peering out toward the horizon where the distant watersalready began to crisp and curl in white froth against the blacknessbeyond. Emily, a neglected book in her lap, sat on the steps of theporch at his feet, idly gazing seaward. The sharp report of the sunsetgun on the little platform on the brow of the hill had just broken theoppressive stillness which preceded the outburst of the tempest.
Having carefully secured the piece with the thoroughness of a seamanto whom a loose gun is a potential engine of terrible destruction,Barry ran rapidly down the hill, clambered up on the high poop of theship, and hauled down the colors. As the flag, looking unusuallybright and brave against the dark background of the cloud-shroudedsky, came floating down, the admiral rose painfully to his feet andbared his gray hairs in reverent salute. Emily had been trained likethe rest, and, following the admiral's example, she laid aside herbook and stood gracefully erect, buoyant, and strong by hergrandfather's side.
Old age and bright youth, the past with its history, memories, andassociations, the future with all its possibilities and dreams, alikesaluted the flag.
They made a pretty picture, thought Captain Barry, as he unbent theflag, belayed the halliards, and gathered up the folds of bunting uponthe deck, rolling the colors into a small bundle which he placed in achest standing against the rail at the foot of the staff. It was anightly ceremony which had not been intermitted since the two came tothe Point. Sometimes the admiral was unable to be present when theflag was formally hoisted in the morning, but it was rare indeed thatnight, however inclement the weather, did not find him on the porch atevening colors.
The smoke of the discharge and the faint acrid smell of thepowder--both pleasant to the veterans--yet lingered in the still airas Barry came up the hill. He stopped before the foot of the porch,stood with his legs far apart, as if balancing to the roll of a ship,knuckled his forehead in true sailor-like fashion, and solemnlyreported that the colors were down. The admiral acknowledged thesalute and, in a voice still strong in spite of his great age,followed it with his nightly comment and question:
"Ay, Barry, and handsomely done. How is the ship?"
"She's all right, your honor."
"Nothing more gone?"
"No, sir."
"I thought I heard a crash last night in the gale."
"Not last night, sir. Everything's all ship-shape, leastways just asit was since that last piece of the to'gallant fo'k'sl was carriedaway last week."
"That's good, Barry. I suppose she's rotting though, still rotting."
"Ay, ay, sir, she is; an' some of the timbers you can stick yourfinger into."
"But she's sound at the heart, Captain Barry," broke in Emily,cheerily.
"Sound at the heart, Miss Emily, and always will be, I trust."
"Ay, lassie," said the old admiral, "we be all sound at the heart, wethree; but when the dry rot gets into the timber, sooner or later theheart is bound to go. Now, to-night, see yonder, the storm isapproaching. How the wind will rack the old timbers! I lie awake o'nights and hear it howling around the corners of the house and waitfor the sound of the crashing of the old ship. I've heard the singingof the breeze through the top-hamper many a time, and have gone tosleep under it when a boy; but the wind here, blowing through thetrees and about the ship, gets into my very vitals. Some of it will goto-night, and I shall be nearer the snug harbor aloft in the morning."
"Oh, don't say that, grandfather! Sound at the heart, the old shipwill brave many a tempest, and you will, as well."
"Ay, girl, but not many like yonder brewing storm. Old things are forstill days, not for tempests. What think ye of the prospect, Barry?"
"It's got an ugly look, your honor, in the nor'west. There's wind aplenty in them black clouds. I wish we'd a good frigate under us andplenty o' sea room. I lies on the old ship sometimes an' feels hershiver in the gale as if she was ashamed to be on shore. That'll be ahard blow, sir."
"Ay," said the admiral, "I remember it was just such a night as thisonce when I commanded the _Columbus_. She was a ship-of-the-line,Emily, pierced for one hundred guns, and when we came into theMediterranean Admiral Dacres told me that he had never seen such asplendid ship. I was uneasy and could not sleep,--good captains sleeplightly, child,--so I came on deck about two bells in the mid-watch.Young Farragut, God bless him! was officer of the watch. The night wascalm and quiet but very dark. It was black as pitch off to starboard.There was not a star to be seen. 'Mr. Farragut,' I said, 'you'd betterget the canvas off the ship.' Just then a little puff struck me in thecheek, and there was a sort of a deep sigh in the still night. Barry,your father, old John, was at the wheel, and a better hand at steeringa ship I never saw. 'Call all hands, sir,' I said, sharply, 'we've notime to spare,' and by gad,--excuse me, Emily,--we'd no more thansettled away the halliards when the squall struck us. If it hadn'tbeen for the quick handling and ready seamanship of that youngster,and I saw that he was master of the thing and let him have his ownway, we'd have gone down with all standing. As it was----"
The speech of the old man was interrupted by a vivid flash oflightning, followed by a distant clap of thunder. In another momentthe black water of the lake was churned into foam, and the wind sweptupon them with the violence of a hurricane. As soon as the storm burstforth, Barry sprang upon the porch to assist the old admiral into thehouse.
"No," he said; "I'm feeling rather well this evening. Let me face thestorm awhile. Fetch me my heavy cloak. That's well. Now pull the chairforward where I can get it full and strong. How good it feels! 'Tislike old times, man. Ah, if there were only a touch of salt in thegale!"
Closely wrapped in a heavy old-fashioned boat cloak which Barrybrought him, he sat down near the railing of the porch, threw up hisold head, and drank in the fresh gale with long breaths which broughtwith them pleasant recollections. The sailor stood on one side of theveteran, Emily on the other; youth and strength, man and woman, at theservice of feeble age.
"See the ship!" muttered the old man; "how she sways, yet she rides itout! Up with the helm!" he cried, suddenly, as if she were in a seawaywith the canvas on her. "Force your head around to it, ye old witch!Drive into it! You're good for many a storm yet. Bless me," he added,presently, "I forgot; yet 'tis still staunch. Ha, ha! Sound at theheart, and will weather many a tempest yet!"
"Oh, grandfather, what's that?" cried the girl; "look yonder!"
She left the side of the admiral, sprang to the edge of the porch, andpointed far out over the lake. A little sloop, its mainsail closereefed, was beating in toward the harbor. The twilight had so farfaded in the storm that at the distance from them the boat then wasthey could scarcely distinguish more than a slight blur of white uponthe water. But, flying toward them before the storm, she was fastrising into view.
"Where is it, child?" asked the old man, looking out into the growingdarkness.
"There! Let your eye range across the ship; there, beyond the Point.She's running straight upon the sunken rocks."
"I sees it, Miss Emily," cried Barry, shading his eyes with his hand;"'tis a yacht, the mains'l's close reefed. She looks like a toy.There's a man in it. He's on the port tack, thinkin' to make theharbor without goin' about."
"He'll never do it," cried the girl, her voice shrill withapprehension. "He can't see the sunken ledge running out from thePoint. He's a stranger to these waters, evidently."
"I see him, too," said the admiral. "God, what a storm! How he handlesthat boat! The man's a sailor, every inch of him!"
The cutter was nearer now, so near that the man could easily be seen.She was coming in with racing speed in spite of her small spread ofcanvas. The lake was roaring all about her and the wind threatened torip the mast out of the little boat, but the man held her up to itwith consumm
ate skill, evidently expecting to gain an entrance to theharbor, where safety lay, on his present tack. This he could easilyhave done had it not been for a long, dangerous ledge of sunken rockswhich extended out beyond Ship House Point. Being under water, it gavelittle sign of its presence to a mariner until one was right upon it.In his excitement the admiral scrambled to his feet, stepped to therail of the porch, and stood leaning over it. Presently he hollowedhis hand and shouted with a voice of astonishing power for so old aman:
"Down with your helm, boy! Hard down!"
But the stranger, of course, could not hear him, and the veteran stoodlooking with a grave frown upon his face as that human life, down onthe waters beneath him, struggled for existence. It was not the firsttime he had watched life trembling in the balance--no; nor seen it goin the end. Emily's voice broke in murmurs of prayer, while Barrystared like the admiral.
Presently the man in the boat glanced up and caught sight of theparty. He was very near now and coming on gallantly. He waved hishand, and was astonished to see them frantically gesture back at him.A warning! What could their movements mean?
He peered ahead into the growing darkness; the way seemed to be clear,yet something was evidently wrong. What could it be? Ah! He could notweather the Point. With a seaman's quick decision, he jammed the helmover.
"Oh, grandfather!" screamed Emily in the old man's ear; "can'tsomething be done?"
"Nothing, child; nothing! He can't hear, he can't see, he does notknow."
"It's awful to see him rush smilingly down to certain death!"exclaimed the girl, wringing her hands. "Captain Barry, can't you dosomething?"
"There goes his helm," said the admiral; "he realizes it at last.About he goes! Too late! too late!"
"Oh, Captain Barry, you must do something!" cried Emily.
"There's nothin' to do, Miss Emily."
"Yes, there is. We'll get the boat," she answered, springing from thesteps as she spoke and running down the hill like a young fawn. Thesailor instantly followed her, and in a moment they disappeared underthe lee of the ship.