“This is not well done, Master Jasper!” angrily exclaimed Cap, as soon as he perceived the trick that had been played him—“This is not well done, sir; I order you to cut, and to beach the cutter, without a moment’s delay.”
No one, however, seemed disposed to comply with this order, for so long as Eau douce saw fit to command, his own people were disposed to obey. Finding that the men remained passive, Cap, who believed they were in the utmost peril, turned fiercely to Jasper, and renewed his remonstrances.
“You did not head for your pretended creek,” he added, after dealing in some objurgatory remarks that we do not deem it necessary to record, “but steered for that bluff, where every soul on board would have been drowned, had we gone ashore!”
“And you wish to cut, and put every soul ashore, at that very spot!” Jasper retorted a little drily.
“Throw a lead line over board, and ascertain the drift—” Cap now roared to the people forward. A sign from Jasper sustaining this order, it was instantly obeyed. All on deck gathered around the spot, and watched, with nearly breathless interest, the result of the experiment. The lead was no sooner on the bottom, than the line tended forward, and in about two minutes it was seen that the cutter had drifted her length, dead in towards the bluff. Jasper looked grave, for he well knew nothing would hold the vessel did she get within the vortex of the breakers, the first line of which, was appearing and disappearing about a cable’s length directly under their stern.
“Traitor!” exclaimed Cap, shaking a finger at the young commander, though passion choked the rest. “You must answer for this with your life,” he added after a short pause, “If I were at the head of this expedition, Serjeant, I would hang him at the end of the main-boom, lest he escape drowning.”
“Moderate your feelings, brother—be more moderate, I beseech you; Jasper appears to have done all for the best, and matters may not be as bad as you believe them.”
“Why did he not run for the creek, he mentioned—why has he brought us here, dead to windward of that bluff, and to a spot where even the breakers are only of half the ordinary width, as if in a hurry to drown all on board!”
“I headed for the bluff, for the precise reason that the breakers are so narrow at this spot,” answered Jasper mildly, though his gorge had risen at the language the other held.
“Do you mean to tell an old seaman like me, that this cutter could live in those breakers?”
“I do not, sir. I think she would fill and swamp, if driven into the first line of them—I am certain she would never reach the shore on her bottom, if fairly entered. I hope to keep her clear of them, altogether.”
“With a drift of her length in a minute!”
“The backing of the anchors does not yet fairly tell, nor do I even hope that they will entirely bring her up.”
“On what then do you rely? To moor a craft head and stern, by faith, hope and charity!”
“No, sir—I trust to the under-tow. I headed for the bluff, because I knew that it was stronger at that point than at any other, and because we could get nearer in with the land, without entering the breakers.”
This was said with spirit, though without any particular show of resentment. Its effect on Cap was marked, the feeling that was uppermost being evidently that of surprise.
“Under-tow!” he repeated—“Who the devil ever heard of saving a vessel from going ashore by the under-tow!”
“This may never happen on the ocean, sir,” Jasper answered modestly, “but we have known it to happen here.”
“The lad is right, brother,” put in the serjeant, “for though I do not well understand it, I have often heard the sailors of the lake speak of such a thing. We shall do well to trust to Jasper, in this strait.”
Cap grumbled and swore, but as there was no remedy, he was compelled to acquiesce, Jasper being now called on to explain what he meant by the under-tow, gave this account of the matter. The water that was driven up on the shore by the gale, was necessarily compelled to find its level, by returning to the lake, by some secret channels. This could not be done on the surface, where both wind and waves were constantly urging it towards the land, and it necessarily formed a sort of lower eddy, by means of which it flowed back again, to its ancient and proper bed. This inferior current had received the name of the under-tow, and as it would necessarily act on the bottom of a vessel that drew as much water as the Scud, Jasper trusted to the aid of this reaction to keep his cables from parting. In short, the upper and lower currents, would, in a manner, counteract each other.
Simple and ingenious as was this theory, however, as yet there was little evidence of its being reduced to practice. The drift continued, though, as the kedges and hawsers, with which the anchors were backed, took the strains, it became sensibly less. At length the man at the lead announced the joyful intelligence, that the anchors had ceased to drag, and that the vessel had brought up! At this precise moment, the first line of the breakers was about a hundred feet astern of the Scud, even appearing to approach much nearer, as the foam vanished and returned on the raging surges. Jasper sprang forward, and casting a glance over the bows, he smiled in triumph, as he pointed exultingly to the cables. Instead of resembling bars of iron in rigidity, as before, they were curving downwards, and to a seaman’s senses, it was evident that the cutter rose and fell on the seas as they came in, with the ease of a ship in a tides-way, when the power of the wind is relieved by the counteracting pressure of the water.
“’Tis the undertow!” he exclaimed with delight, fairly bounding along the deck to steady the helm, in order that the cutter might ride still easier—“Providence has placed us directly in its current, and there is no longer any danger!”
“Ay—ay, Providence is a good seaman—” growled Cap, “and often helps lubbers out of difficulty. Under tow, or upper tow, the gale has abated, and fortunately for us all, the anchors have met with good holding ground. Then this d____d fresh water has an unnatural way with it.”
Men are seldom inclined to quarrel with good fortune, but it is in distress that they grow clamorous and critical. Most on board were disposed to believe that they had been saved from shipwreck by the skill and knowledge of Jasper, without regarding the opinions of Cap, whose remarks were now little heeded.
There was half an hour of uncertainty and doubt, it is true, during which period the lead was anxiously watched, and then a feeling of security came over all, and the weary slept without dreaming of instant death.
Chapter XVIII
“It is to be all made of sighs and tears;—
It is to be all made of faith and service: —
It is to be all made of fantasy,
All made of passion, and all made of wishes:
All adoration, duty, and observance,
All humbleness, all patience, and impatience,
All purity, all trial, all observance.”
—As You Like It, V.ii.84, 89, 94–98.
* * *
IT WAS NEAR NOON when the gale broke, and then its force abated as suddenly as its violence had arisen. In less than two hours after the wind fell, the surface of the lake, though still agitated, was no longer glittering with foam, and in double that time, the entire sheet presented the ordinary scene of disturbed water, that was unbroken by the violence of a tempest. Still the waves came rolling incessantly towards the shore, and the lines of breakers remained, though the spray had ceased to fly, the combing of the swells was more moderate, and all that there was of violence proceeded from the impulsion of wind that had abated.
As it was impossible to make head against the sea that was still up, with the light opposing air that blew from the eastward, all thoughts of getting under way that afternoon, were abandoned. Jasper, who had now quietly resumed the command of the Scud, busied himself, however, in heaving up to the anchors, which were lifted in succession. The kedges that backed them were weighed, and every thing was got in readiness for a prompt departure, as soon as the state of the weather woul
d allow. In the mean time, they who had no concern with these duties, sought such means of amusement, as their peculiar circumstances allowed.
As is common with those who are unused to the confinement of a vessel, Mabel cast wistful eyes towards the shore, nor was it long before she expressed a wish that it were possible to land. The Pathfinder was near her at the time, and he assured her that nothing would be easier, as they had a bark canoe on deck, which was the best possible mode of conveyance to go through a surf in. After the usual doubts and misgivings, the Serjeant was appealed to. His opinion proved to be favorable, and preparations to carry the whim into effect, were immediately made.
The party that was to land, consisted of Serjeant Dunham, his daughter and the Pathfinder. Accustomed to the canoe, Mabel took her seat in the centre with great steadiness, her father was placed in the bows, while the guide assumed the office of conductor, by steering in the stern. There was little need of impelling the canoe by means of the paddle, for the rollers sent it forward, at moments, with a violence that put every effort to govern its movements at defiance. More than once, ere the shore was reached, Mabel repented of her temerity, but Pathfinder encouraged her, and really manifested so much self-possession, coolness and strength of arm, himself, that even a female might have hesitated about owning all her apprehensions. Our heroine was no coward, and while she felt the novelty of her situation, she also experienced a fair proportion of its wild delight. At moments, indeed, her heart was in her mouth, as the bubble of a boat floated on the very crest of a foaming breaker, appearing to skim the water like a swallow, and then she flushed and laughed, as, left by the glancing element, they appeared to linger behind, ashamed at having been out-done in the headlong race. A few minutes sufficed for this excitement, for, though the distance between the cutter and the land considerably exceeded a quarter of a mile, the intermediate space was passed in a very few minutes.
On landing, the Serjeant kissed his daughter kindly, for he was so much of a soldier as always to feel more at home, on terra firma, then when afloat, and taking his gun, he announced his intention to pass an hour, in quest of game.
“Pathfinder will remain near you, girl, and no doubt he will tell you some of the traditions of this part of the world, or some of his own experiences with the Mingos.”
The guide laughed, promised to have a care of Mabel, and in a few minutes the father had ascended a steep acclivity, and disappeared in the forest. The others took another direction which, after a few minutes of a sharp ascent also, brought them to a small naked point on the promontory, where the eye overlooked an extensive and very peculiar panorama. Here Mabel seated herself on a fragment of fallen rock, to recover her breath and strength, while her companion, on whose sinews no personal exertion seemed to make any impression, stood at her side, leaning in his own, and not ungraceful manner on his long rifle. Several minutes passed, and neither spoke; Mabel, in particular, being lost in admiration of the view.
The position the two had obtained was sufficiently elevated, to command a wide reach of the lake, which stretched away towards the north east, in a boundless sheet, glittering beneath the rays of an afternoon’s sun, and yet betraying the remains of that agitation which it had endured while tossed by the late tempest. The land set bounds to its limits, in a huge crescent, disappearing in distance towards the south-east and the north. Far as the eye could reach, nothing but forest was visible, not even a solitary sign of civilization breaking in upon the uniform and grand magnificence of nature. The gale had driven the Scud beyond the line of those posts, with which the French were then endeavoring to gird the English North American possessions, for following the channels of communications between the great lakes, their posts were on the banks of the Niagara, while our adventurers had reached a point many leagues westward of that celebrated streight. The cutter rode at single anchor, without the breakers, resembling some well imagined and accurately executed toy, that was intended rather for a glass case, than for the struggles with the elements which she had so lately gone through, while the canoe lay on the narrow beach, just out of reach of the waves that came booming upon the land, a speck upon the shingle.
“We are very far, here, from human habitations!” exclaimed Mabel, when, after a long and musing survey of the scene, its principal peculiarities forced themselves on her active and even brilliant imagination; “this is indeed being on a frontier!”
“Have they more sightly scenes than this, nearer the sea, and around their large towns?” demanded Pathfinder, with an interest he was apt to discover in such a subject.
“I will not say that; there is more to remind one of his fellow beings, there than here; less, perhaps, to remind one of God.”
“Ay, Mabel, that is what my own feelings say. I am but a poor hunter I know; untaught and unlarned; but God is as near me, in this my home, as he is near the king in his royal palace.”
“Who can doubt it—” returned Mabel, looking from the view up into the hard-featured but honest face of her companion, though not without surprise at the energy of his manner—“One feels nearer to God, in such a spot, I think, than when the mind is distracted by the objects of the towns.”
“You say all I wish to say myself, Mabel, but in so much plainer speech, that you make me ashamed of wishing to let others know what I feel on such matters. I have coasted this lake, in s’arch of skins, afore the war, and have been here already; not at this very spot, for we landed yonder where you may see the blasted oak that stands above the cluster of hemlocks—”
“How, Pathfinder, can you remember all these trifles so accurately!”
“These are our streets and houses; our churches and palaces. Remember them, indeed! I once made an appointment with the Big Sarpent, to meet at twelve o’clock at noon, near the foot of a certain pine, at the end of six months, when neither of us was within three hundred miles of the spot. The tree stood, and stands still unless the judgment of Providence has lighted on that too, in the midst of the forest, fifty miles from any settlement, but in a most extraordinary neighborhood for beaver.”
“And did you meet at that very spot and hour!”
“Does the sun rise and set? When I reached the tree, I found the Sarpent leaning against its trunk, with torn leggings and muddied moccasins. The Delaware had got into a swamp, and it worried him not a little to find his way out of it, but as the sun which comes over the eastern hills in the morning goes down behind the western at night, so was he true to time and place. No fear of Chingachgook when there is either a friend or an enemy in the case. He is equally sartain with each.”
“And where is the Delaware now—why is he not with us to-day?”
“He is scouting on the Mingo trail, where I ought to have been too, but for a great human infirmity.”
“You seem above, beyond, superior to all infirmity, Pathfinder—I never yet met with a man, who appeared to be so little liable to the weaknesses of nature.”
“If you mean in the way of health and strength, Mabel, Providence has been kind to me; though I fancy, the open air, long hunts, or actyve scoutings, forest fare, and the sleep of a good conscience may always keep the doctors at a distance. But I’m human after all; yes, I find I’m very human in some of my feelin’s!”
Mabel looked surprised, and it would be no more than delineating the character of her sex, if we added that her sweet countenance expressed a good deal of curiosity, too, though her tongue was more discreet.
“There is something bewitching in this wild life of yours, Pathfinder!” she exclaimed, the tinge of enthusiasm mantling her cheeks. “I find I’m fast getting to be a frontier girl, and am coming to love all this grand silence of the woods. The towns seem tame to me, and, as my father will probably pass the remainder of his days, here, where he has already lived so long, I begin to feel that I should be happy to continue with him, and not return to the sea-shore.”
“The woods are never silent, Mabel, to such as understand their meaning. Days at a time, have I travelled the
m alone, without feeling the want of company, and, as for conversation, for such as can comprehend their language, there is no want of rational and instructive discourse.”
“I believe you are happier when alone, Pathfinder, than when mingling with your fellow creatures.”
“I will not say that—I will not say exactly that. I have seen the time, when I have thought that God was sufficient for me in the forest, and that I craved no more than his bounty and his care. But other feelin’s have got uppermost, and I suppose natur’ will have its way. All other creatur’s mate, Mabel, and it was intended man should do so, too.”
“And have you never bethought you of seeking a wife, Pathfinder, to share your fortunes,” enquired the girl, with the directness and simplicity that the pure of heart and undesigning are the most apt to manifest and with that feeling of affection which is inbred in her sex. “To me, it seems, you only want a home to return to, from your wanderings, to render your life completely happy. Were I a man, it would be my delight to roam through these forests at will, or to sail over this beautiful lake!”
The Leatherstocking Tales II Page 31
