Chapter II
"Boldly I venture on a naval scene, Nor fear the critics' frown, the pedants' spleen. Sons of the ocean, we their rules disdain. Hark!--a shock Tears her strong bottom on the marble rock. Down on the vale of death, with dismal cries, The fated victims, shuddering, roll their eyes In wild despair--while yet another stroke With deep convulsion rends the solid oak, Till like the mine in whose infernal cell The lurking demons of destruction dwell, At length, asunder torn, her frame divides, And crushing, spreads in ruin o'er the tides." FALCONER.
It was in the dreary month of fog, misanthropy, and suicide--the monthduring which Heaven receives a scantier tribute of gratitude fromdiscontented man--during which the sun rises, but shines not--givesforth an unwilling light, but glads us not with his cheerfulrays--during which large tallow candles assist the merchant to calculatehis gains or to philosophise over his losses--in short, it was oneevening in the month of November of the year l7--, that Edward Forster,who had served many years in his Majesty's navy, was seated in a snugarmchair, in a snug parlour, in a snug cottage to which he had retiredupon his half-pay, in consequence of a severe wound which had, for manyyears, healed but to break out again each succeeding spring.
The locality of the cottage was not exactly so snug as it has beendescribed in itself and its interior; for it was situated on a hillwhich terminated at a short distance in a precipitous cliff, beetlingover that portion of the Atlantic which lashes the shores of Cumberlandunder the sub-denomination of the Irish Sea. But Forster had been allhis early life a sailor, and still felt the same pleasure in listeningto the moaning and whistling of the wind, as it rattled the shutters ofhis cottage (like some importunate who would gain admittance), as heused to experience when, lying in his hammock, he was awakened by thehowling of the blast, and shrouding himself in his blankets to resumehis nap, rejoiced that he was not exposed to its fury.
His finances did not allow him to indulge in luxuries, and thedistillation of the country was substituted for wine. With his feet uponthe fender and his glass of whiskey-toddy at his side, he had been ledinto a train of thought by the book which he had been reading, somepassage of which had recalled to his memory scenes that had long passedaway--the scenes of youth and hope--the happy castle-building of thefresh in heart, invariably overthrown by time and disappointment. Thenight was tempestuous; the rain now pattered loud, then ceased as if ithad fed the wind, which renewed its violence, and forced its way throughevery crevice. The carpet of his little room occasionally rose from thefloor, swelled up by the insidious entrance of the searching blast; thesolitary candle, which from neglect had not only elongated its wick toan unusual extent, but had formed a sort of mushroom top, was everymoment in danger of extinction, while the chintz curtains of the windowwaved solemnly to and fro. But the deep reverie of Edward Forster wassuddenly disturbed by the report of a gun, swept to leeward by theimpetuosity of the gale, which hurled it with violence against the doorand front windows of his cottage, for some moments causing them tovibrate with the concussion. Forster started up, dropping his book uponthe hearth, and jerking the table with his elbow, so as to dash out thelarger proportion of the contents of his tumbler. The sooty coronal ofthe wick also fell with the shock, and the candle, relieved from itsburden, poured forth a brighter gleam.
"Lord ha' mercy, Mr Forster; did you hear that noise?" cried the oldhousekeeper (the only inhabitant of the cottage except himself), as shebolted into the room, holding her apron in both hands.
"I did, indeed, Mrs Beazely," replied Forster; "it's the signal of avessel in distress, and she must be on a dead lee-shore. Give me myhat!" and draining off the remainder in his tumbler, while the old ladyreached his hat off a peg in the passage, he darted out from the door ofhis tenement.
The door, which faced to seaward, flew open with violence, as Forsterdisappeared in the darkness of the night.
The old housekeeper, on whom had devolved the task of securing it, foundit no easy matter; and the rain, blown in by the sweeping gale, provedan effectual and unwelcome shower-bath to one who complained bitterly ofthe rheumatics. At last her object was accomplished, and she repaired tothe parlour to re-light the candle which had been extinguished, andawait the return of her master. After sundry ejaculations and sundrywonders, she took possession of his arm-chair, poked the fire, andhelped herself to a glass of whiskey-toddy. As soon as her clothes andher tumbler were again dry, she announced by loud snores that she was ina happy state of oblivion; in which we shall leave her, to follow themotions of Edward Forster.
It was about seven o'clock in the evening when Forster thus exposedhimself to the inclemency of the weather. But a few weeks before howbeautiful were the evenings at this hour; the sun disappearing beyondthe distant wave, and leaving a portion of his glory behind him, untilthe stars, in obedience to the divine fiat, were lighted up to "shine bynight;" the sea rippling on the sand, or pouring into the crevices ofthe rocks, changing its hue, as day-light slowly disappeared, to themore sombre colours it reflected, from azure to each deeper tint ofgrey, until darkness closed in, and its extent was scarcely to bedefined by the horizontal line.
Now all was changed. The roaring of the wind and the hoarse beating ofthe waves upon the streaming rocks deafened the ears of Edward Forster.The rain and spray were hurled in his face, as, with both hands, hesecured his hat upon his head; and the night was so intensely dark thatbut occasionally he could distinguish the broad belt of foam with whichthe coast was lined. Still Forster forced his way towards the beach,which it is now requisite that we should more particularly describe.
As we before observed, the cottage was built upon a high land, whichterminated in a precipitous cliff about two hundred yards distant, andrunning in a direct line to the westward. To the northward the coast formiles was one continued line of rocky cliffs, affording no chance oflife to those who might be dashed upon them; but to the southward of thecliff which formed the promontory opposite to Forster's cottage, andwhich terminated the range, there was a deep indent in the line ofcoast, forming a sandy and nearly land-locked bay, small indeed, but sosheltered that any vessel which could run in might remain there insafety until the gale was spent. Its only occupant was a fisherman, who,with his family, lived in a small cottage on the beach. He was an allyof Forster, who had entrusted to his charge a skiff, in which, duringthe summer months, he often whiled away his time. It was to this cottagethat Forster bent his way, and loudly knocked when he arrived.
"Robertson--I say, Robertson," called Forster, at the full compass ofhis voice.
"He is not here, Mr Forster," answered Jane, the wife of the fisherman;"he is out, looking for the vessel."
"Which way did he go?"
Before an answer could be returned, Robertson himself appeared. "I'mhere, Mr Forster," said he, taking off his fur cap, and squeezing outwith both hands the water with which it was loaded; "but I can't see thevessel."
"Still, by the report of the gun, she must be close to the shore. Getsome fagots out from the shed, and light as large a fire as you can:don't spare them, my good fellow; I will pay you."
"That I'll do, sir, and without pay; I only hope that they'll understandthe signal, and lay her on shore in the cove. There's another gun!"
This second report, so much louder than the former, indicated that thevessel had rapidly neared the land; and the direction from which thereport came proved that she must be close to the promontory of rocks.
"Be smart, my dear fellow, be smart," cried Forster. "I will go up tothe cliff, and try if I can make her out;" and the parties separatedupon their mutual work of sympathy and good will.
It was not without danger, as well as difficulty, that Forster succeededin his attempt; and when he arrived at the summit, a violent gust ofwind would have thrown him off his legs, had he not sunk down upon hisknees and clung to the herbage, losing his hat, which was borne far awayto leeward. In this position, drenched with the rain and shivering withthe cold, he remained some minutes, attem
pting in vain, with strainingeyes, to pierce through the gloom of the night, when a flash oflightning, which darted from the zenith, and continued its eccentriccareer until it was lost behind the horizon, discovered to him theobject of his research. But a few moments did he behold it, and then,from the sudden contrast, a film appeared to swim over his aching eyes,and all was more intensely, more horribly dark than before; but to theeye of a seafaring man this short view was sufficient. He perceived thatit was a large ship, within a quarter of a mile of the land, pressedgunnel under with her reefed courses, chopping through the heavyseas--now pointing her bowsprit to the heavens, as she rose over theimpeding swell; now plunging deep into the trough encircled by the foamraised by her own exertions, like some huge monster of the deep,struggling in her toils and lashing the seas around in her violentefforts to escape.
The fire burnt up fiercely in the cove, in defiance of the rain andwind, which, after in vain attempting to destroy it in its birth, nowseemed to assist it with their violence.
"She may yet be saved," thought Forster, "if she will only carry on. Twocables' length more, and she will be clear of the point."
Again and again was the vessel momentarily presented to his view, as theforked lightning darted in every quarter of the firmament, while theastounding claps of thunder bursting upon his ears before the lightninghad ceased to gleam, announced to him that he was kneeling in the verycentre of the war of the elements. The vessel neared the cliff in aboutthe same proportion that she forged ahead. Forster was breathless withanxiety, for the last flash of electricity revealed to him that twomoments more would decide her fate.
The gale now redoubled its fury, and Forster was obliged to cling forhis existence as he sank, from his kneeling posture, flat upon the wetherbage. Still he had approached so near to the edge of the cliff thathis view below was not interrupted by his change of posture. Anotherflash of lightning. It was enough! "God have mercy on their souls!"cried he, dropping his face upon the ground as if to shut out the horridvision from his sight.
He had beheld the vessel within the surf, but a few yards distant fromthe outer rocks, thrown on her beam-ends, with both foresail andmainsail blown clear out of their bolt-ropes. The cry for succour wasraised in vain; the wail of despair was not heard; the struggles forlife were not beheld, as the elements in their wrath roared and howledover their victim.
As if satiated with its devastation, from that moment the stormgradually abated, and Forster, taking advantage of a lull, slowlydescended to the cove, where he found Robertson still heaping fuel onthe fire.
"Save your wood, my good fellow; it's all over with her; and those whowere on board are in eternity at this moment," said Forster, in amelancholy tone.
"Is she gone then, sir?"
"Right on the outer ledge; there's not a living soul to see yourbeacon."
"God's will be done!" replied the fisherman; "then their time wascome--but He who destroys, can save if He pleases; I'll not put out thefire while there's a fagot left, for you know, Mr Forster, that ifanyone should by a miracle be thrown into the smooth water on this sideof the point, he might be saved; that is, if he swam well:"--andRobertson threw on more fagots, which soon flared up with a brilliantlight. The fisherman returned to the cottage, to procure for Forster ared woollen cap in lieu of the hat which he had lost; and they both satdown close to the fire to warm themselves and to dry their streamingclothes.
Robertson had once more replenished the fuel, and the vivid blaze glaredalong the water in the cove, when the eye of Forster was attracted bythe appearance of something floating on the wave, and evidently nearingto the shore. He pointed it out to the fisherman, and they descended tothe water's edge, awaiting its approach with intense anxiety.
"It's not a man, sir, is it?" observed Robertson after a minute's pause.
"I cannot make it out," replied Forster; "but I rather think that it isan animal--something living, most assuredly."
In another minute or two the point was decided; they distinguished alarge dog bearing something white in its mouth, and making for the shorewhere they were standing. Calling to the poor beast to cheer him, for heevidently was much exhausted, and approached but slowly, they soon hadthe satisfaction of seeing him pass through the surf, which, even atthis time, was not heavy in the cove, and, with the water pouring fromhis shaggy coat, stagger towards them, bearing in his mouth his burden,which he laid down at Forster's feet, and then shook off theaccumulation of moisture from his skin. Forster took up the object ofthe animal's solicitude--it was the body of an infant, apparently a fewmonths old.
"Poor thing!" cried Forster, mournfully.
"It's quite dead, sir," observed the fisherman.
"I am afraid so," replied Forster, "but it cannot have been so long; thedog evidently bore it up clear of the water until it came into the surf.Who knows but we might restore it?"
"If anything will restore it, sir, it will be the warmth of a woman'sbreast, to which it hitherto hath clung. Jane shall take it in her bed,between her and the little ones;" and the fisherman entered the hut withthe child, which was undressed, and received by his wife with all thesympathy which maternal feelings create, even towards the offspring ofothers. To the delight of Forster, in a quarter of an hour Robertsoncame out of the cottage with the intelligence that the child had movedand cried a little, and that there was every chance of its recovery.
"It's a beautiful little girl, sir, Jane says; and if it lives, she willhalve her milk between it and our little Tommy."
Forster remained another half-hour, until he had ascertained that thechild had taken the breast and had fallen asleep. Congratulating himselfat having been the means of saving even one little life out of the manywhich, in all probability, had been swallowed up, he called to the dog,who had remained passive by the fire, and rose up to return home; butthe dog retreated to the door of the cottage into which he had seen theinfant carried, and all attempts to coax him away were fruitless.
Forster summoned Robertson, to whom he gave some further directions, andthen returned to his home, where, on his arrival, his old housekeeper,who had never been awakened from her sound nap until roused by hisknocking at the door, scolded him not a little for being out in suchtempestuous weather, and a great deal more for having obliged her to situp and _watch_ all night until his return.
Newton Forster Page 2
