“The mouse ne’er
shunned the cat, as they did budge
From rascals worse than they.”
Coriolanus.
Day dawned on the Atlantic, with its
pearly light, succeeded by the usual flushing of the
skies, and the stately rising of the sun from out the
water. The instant the vigilant officer, who commanded
the morning watch, caught the first glimpses of the
returning brightness, Ludlow was awakened. A
finger laid on his arm, was sufficient to arouse one
who slept with the responsibility of his station ever
present to his mind. A minute did not pass, before
the young man was on the quarter-deck, closely examining
the heavens and the horizon. His first question
was to ask if nothing had been seen during the watch.
The answer was in the negative.
“I like this opening in the
north-west,” observed the captain, after his
eye had thoroughly scanned the whole of the still dusky
and limited view. “Wind will come out of
it. Give us a cap-full, and we shall try the speed
of this boasted Water-Witch! Do I not see
a sail, on our weather-beam? or is it the
crest of a wave?”
“The sea is getting irregular,
and I have often been thus deceived, since the light
appeared.”
“Get more sail on the ship.
Here is wind, in-shore of us; we will be ready for
it. See every thing clear, to show all our canvas.”
The lieutenant received these orders
with the customary deference and communicated them
to his inferiors again, with the promptitude that
distinguishes sea discipline. The Coquette, at
the moment, was lying under her three top-sails, one
of which was thrown against its mast, in a manner
to hold the vessel as nearly stationary as her drift
and the wash of the waves would allow. So soon,
however, as the officer of the watch summoned the
people to exertion, the massive yards were swung; several
light sails, that served to balance the fabric as
well as to urge it ahead, were hoisted or opened;
and the ship immediately began to move through the
water. While the men of the watch were thus employed,
the flapping of the canvas announced the approach
of a new breeze.
The coast of North America is liable
to sudden and dangerous transitions, in the currents
of the air. It is a circumstance of no unusual
occurrence, for a gale to alter its direction with
so little warning, as greatly to jeopard the safety
of a ship, or even to overwhelm her. It has been
often said, that the celebrated Ville de Paris was
lost through one of these violent changes, her captain
having inadvertently hove-to the vessel under too
much after-sail, a mistake by which he lost the command
of his ship during the pressing emergency that ensued.
Whatever may have been the fact as regards that ill-fated
prize, it is certain that Ludlow was perfectly aware
of the hazards that sometimes accompany the first blasts
of a north-west wind on his native coast, and that
he never forgot to be prepared for the danger.
When the wind from the land struck
the Coquette, the streak of light, which announced
the appearance of the sun, had been visible several
minutes. As the broad sheets of vapor, that had
veiled the heavens during the prevalence of the south-easterly
breeze, were rolled up into dense masses of clouds,
like some immense curtain that is withdrawn from before
its scene, the water, no less than the sky, became
instantly visible, in every quarter. It is scarcely
necessary to say, how eagerly the gaze of our young
seaman ran over the horizon, in order to observe the
objects which might come within its range. At
first disappointment was plainly painted in his countenance,
and then succeeded the animated eye and flushed cheek
of success.
“I had thought her gone!”
he said to his immediate subordinate in authority.
“But here she is, to leeward, just within the
edge of that driving mist, and as dead under our lee
as a kind fortune could place her. Keep the ship
away, Sir, and cover her with canvas, from her trucks
down. Call the people from their hammocks, and
show yon insolent what Her Majesty’s sloop can
do, at need!”
This command was the commencement
of a general and hasty movement, in which every seaman
in the ship exerted his powers to the utmost.
All hands were no sooner called, than the depths of
the vessel gave up their tenants, who, joining their
force to that of the watch on deck, quickly covered
the spars of the Coquette with a snow-white cloud.
Not content to catch the breeze on such surfaces as
the ordinary yards could distend, long booms were
thrust out over the water, and sail was set beyond
sail, until the bending masts would bear no more.
The low hull, which supported this towering and complicated
mass of ropes, spars, and sails, yielded to the powerful
impulse, and the fabric, which, in addition to its
crowd of human beings, sustained so heavy a load of
artillery, with all its burthen of stores and ammunition,
began to divide the waves, with the steady and imposing
force of a vast momentum. The seas curled and
broke against her sides, like water washing the rocks,
the steady ship feeling, as yet, no impression from
their feeble efforts. As the wind increased, however,
and the vessel went further from the land, the surface
of the ocean gradually grew more agitated, until the
highlands, which lay over the villa of the Lust in
Rust, finally sunk into the sea; when the top-gallant-royals
of the ship were seen describing wide segments of
circles against the heavens, and her dark sides occasionally
rose, from a long and deep roll, glittering with the
element that sustained her.
When Ludlow first descried the object
which he believed to be the chase, it seemed a motionless
speck on the margin of the sea. It had now grown
into all the magnitude and symmetry of the well-known
brigantine. Her slight and attenuated spars were
plainly to be seen, rolling, easily but wide, with
the constant movement of the hull, and with no sail
spread, but that which was necessary to keep the vessel
in command on the billows. But when the Coquette
was just within the range of a cannon, the canvas began
to unfold; and it was soon apparent that the “Skimmer
of the Seas” was preparing for flight.
The first manoeuvre of the Water-witch
was an attempt to gain the wind of her pursuer.
A short experiment appeared to satisfy those who governed
the brigantine that the effort was vain, while the
wind was so fresh and the water so rough. She
wore, and crowded sail on the opposite tack, in order
to try her speed with the cruiser; nor was it until
the result sufficiently showed the danger of permitting
the other to get any nigher, that she finally put
her helm aweather, and ran off, like a sea-fowl resting
on its wing, with the wind over her taffrail.
The two vessels now presented the
spectacle of a stern chase. The brigantine also
opened the folds of all her sails, and there arose
a pyramid of canvas, over the nearly imperceptible
hull, that resembled a fantastic cloud driving above
the sea, with a velocity that seemed to rival the
passage of the vapor that floated in the upper air.
As equal skill directed the movements of the two vessels,
and the same breeze pressed upon their sails, it was
long before there was any perceptible difference in
their progress. Hour passed after hour, and were
it not for the sheets of white foam that were dashed
from the bows of the Coquette, and the manner in which
she even out stripped the caps of the combing waves,
her commander might have fancied his vessel ever in
the same spot. While the ocean presented, on
every side, the same monotonous and rolling picture,
there lay the chase, seemingly neither a foot nearer,
nor a foot farther, than when the trial of speed began.
A dark line would rise on the crest of a wave, and
then, sinking again, leave, nothing visible, but the
yielding and waving cloud of canvas, that danced along
the sea.
“I had hoped for better things
of the ship, Master Trysail!” said Ludlow, who
had long been seated on a night-head, attentively watching
the progress of the chase. “We are buried
to the bob-stays; and yet, there yon fellow lies,
nothing plainer than when he first showed his studding-sails!”
“And there he will lie, Captain
Ludlow, while the light lasts. I have chased
the rover in the narrow seas, till the cliffs of England
melted away like the cap of a wave; and we had raised
the sand-banks of Holland high as the sprit-sail-yard,
and yet what good came of it? The rogue played
with us, as your portsman trifles with the entangled
trout; and when we thought we had him, he would shoot
without the range of our guns, with as little exertion
as a ship slides into the water, after the spur shoars
are knocked from under her bows.”
“Ay, but the Druid had a little
of the rust of antiquity about her. The Coquette
has never got a chase under her lee, that she did not
speak.”
“I disparage no ship, Sir, for
character is character, and none should speak lightly
of their fellow-creatures, and, least of all, of any
thing which follows the sea. I allow the Coquette
to be a lively boat on a wind, and a real scudder
going large; but one should know the wright that fashioned
yonder brigantine, before he ventures to say that any
vessel in Her Majesty’s fleet can hold way with
her, when she is driven hard.”
“These opinions, Trysail, are
fitter for the tales of a top, than for the mouth
of one who walks the quarter-deck.”
“I should have lived to little
purpose, Captain Ludlow, not to know that what was
philosophy in my young days, is not philosophy now.
They say the world is round, which is my own opinion first,
because the glorious Sir Francis Drake, and divers
other Englishmen, have gone in, as it were, at one
end, and out at the other; no less than several seamen
of other nations, to say nothing of one Magellan,
who pretends to have been the first man to make the
passage, which I take to be neither more nor less
than a Portuguee lie, it being altogether unreasonable
to suppose that a Portuguee should do what an Englishman
had not yet thought of doing; secondly,
if the world were not round, or some such shape, why
should we see the small sails of a ship before her
courses, or why should her truck heave up into the
horizon before the hull? They say, moreover,
that the world turns round, which is no doubt true;
and it is just as true that its opinions turn round
with it, which brings me to the object of my remark yon
fellow shows more of his broadside, Sir, than common!
He is edging in for the land, which must lie, hereaway,
on our larboard beam, in order to get into smoother
water. This tumbling about is not favorable to
your light craft, let who will build them.”
“I had hoped to drive him off
the coast. Could we get him fairly into the Gulf
Stream, he would be ours, for he is too low in the
water to escape us in the short seas. We must
force him into blue water, though our upper spars
crack in the struggle! Go aft, Mr. Hopper, and
tell the officer of the watch to bring the ship’s
head up, a point and a half, to the northward, and
to give a slight pull on the braces.”
“What a mainsail the rogue carries!
It is as broad as the instructions of a roving commission,
with a hoist like the promotion of an admiral’s
son! How every thing pulls aboard him! A
thorough-bred sails that brigantine, let him come
whence he may!”
“I think we near him! The
rough water is helping us, and we are closing.
Steer small, fellow; steer small! You see the
color of his mouldings begins to show, when he lifts
on the seas.”
“The sun touches his side and
yet, Captain Ludlow, you may be right for
here is a man in his fore-top, plainly enough to be
seen. A shot, or two, among his spars and sails,
might now do service.”
Ludlow affected not to hear; but the
first-lieutenant having come on the forecastle, seconded
this opinion, by remarking that their position would
indeed enable them to use the chase-gun, without losing
any distance. As Trysail sustained his former
assertion by truths that were too obvious to be refuted,
the commander of the cruiser reluctantly issued an
order to clear away the forward gun, and to shift
it into the bridle-port. The interested and attentive
seamen were not long in performing this service; and
a report was quickly made to the captain, that the
piece was ready.
Ludlow then descended from his post
on the night-head, and pointed the cannon himself.
“Knock away the quoin, entirely;”
he said to the captain of the gun, when he had got
the range; “now mind her when she lifts, forward;
keep the ship steady, Sir fire!”
Those gentleman ‘who live at
home at ease,’ are often surprised to read of
combats, in which so much powder, and hundreds and
even thousands of shot, are expended, with so little
loss of human life; while a struggle on the land,
of less duration, and seemingly of less obstinacy,
shall sweep away a multitude. The secret of the
difference lies in the uncertainty of aim, on an element
as restless as the sea. The largest ship is rarely
quite motionless, when on the open ocean; and it is
not necessary to tell the reader, that the smallest
variation in the direction of a gun at its muzzle,
becomes magnified to many yards at the distance of
a few hundred feet. Marine gunnery has no little
resemblance to the skill of the fowler; since a calculation
for a change in the position of the object must commonly
be made in both cases, with the additional embarrassment
on the part of the seaman, of an allowance for a complicated
movement in the piece itself.
How far the gun of the Coquette was
subject to the influence of these causes, or how far
the desire of her captain to protect those whom he
believed to be on board the brigantine, had an effect
on the direction taken by its shot, will probably
never be known. It is certain, however, that
when the stream of fire, followed by its curling cloud,
had gushed out upon the water, fifty eyes sought in
vain to trace the course of the iron messenger among
the sails and rigging of the Water-Witch. The
symmetry of her beautiful rig was undisturbed, and
the unconscious fabric still glided over the waves,
with its customary ease and velocity. Ludlow
had a reputation, among his crew, for some skill in
the direction of a gun. The failure, therefore,
in no degree aided in changing the opinions of the
common men concerning the character of the chase.
Many shook their heads, and more than one veteran
tar, as he paced his narrow limits with both hands
thrust into the bosom of his jacket, was heard to utter
his belief of the inefficacy of ordinary shot, in
bringing-to that brigantine. It was necessary,
however to repeat the experiment, for the sake of
appearances. The gun was several times discharged,
and always with the same want of success.
“There is little use in wasting
our powder, at this distance, and with so heavy a
sea,” said Ludlow, quitting the cannon, after
a fifth and fruitless essay. “I shall fire
no more. Look at your sails, gentlemen, and see
that every thing draws. We must conquer with our
heels, and let the artillery rest. Secure
the gun.”
“The piece is ready, Sir;”
observed its captain, presuming on his known favor
with the commander, though he qualified the boldness
by taking off his hat, in a sufficiently respectful
manner “’Tis a pity to balk
it!”
“Fire it, yourself, then, and
return the piece to its port;” carelessly returned
the captain, willing to show that others could be as
unlucky as himself.
The men quartered at the gun, left
alone, busied themselves in executing the order.
“Run in the quoin, and, blast
the brig, give her a point-blanker!” said the
gruff old seaman, who was intrusted with a local authority
over that particular piece. “None of your
geometry calculations, for me!”
The crew obeyed, and the match was
instantly applied. A rising sea, however, aided
the object of the directly-minded old tar, or our narration
of the exploits of the piece would end with the discharge,
since its shot would otherwise have inevitably plunged
into a wave, within a few yards of its muzzle.
The bows of the ship rose with the appearance of the
smoke, the usual brief expectation followed, and then
fragments of wood were seen flying above the top-mast-studding-sail-boom
of the brigantine, which, at the same time, flew forward,
carrying with it, and entirely deranging, the two
important sails that depended on the spar for support.
“So much for plain sailing!”
cried the delighted tar, slapping the breach of the
gun, affectionately. “Witch or no witch,
there go two of her jackets at once; and, by the captain’s
good-will, we shall shortly take off some more of
her clothes! In spunge ”
“The order is to run the gun
aft, and secure it;” said a merry midshipman,
leaping on the heel of the bowsprit to gaze at the
confusion on board the chase. “The rogue
is nimble enough, in saving his canvas!”
There was, in truth, necessity for
exertion, on the part of those who governed the movements
of the brigantine. The two sails that were rendered
temporarily useless, were of great importance, with
the wind over the taffrail. The distance between
the two vessels did not exceed a mile, and the danger
of lessening it was now too obvious to admit of delay.
The ordinary movements of seamen, in critical moments,
are dictated by a quality that resembles instinct,
more than thought. The constant hazards of a
dangerous and delicate profession, in which delay may
prove fatal, and in which life, character, and property
are so often dependent on the self-possession and
resources of him who commands, beget, in time, so keen
a knowledge of the necessary expedients, as to cause
it to approach a natural quality.
The studding-sails of the Water-Witch
were no sooner fluttering in the air, than the brigantine
slightly changed her course, like some bird whose
wing has been touched by the fowler; and her head was
seen inclining as much to the south, as the moment
before it had pointed northward. The variation,
trifling as it was, brought the wind on the opposite
quarter, and caused the boom that distended her mainsail
to gybe. At the same instant, the studding-sails,
which had been flapping under the lee of this vast
sheet of canvas, swelled to their utmost tension; and
the vessel lost little, if any, of the power which
urged her through the water. Even while this
evolution was so rapidly performed, men were seen aloft,
nimbly employed, as it has been already expressed
by the observant little midshipman, in securing the
crippled sails.
“A rogue has a quick wit,”
said Trysail, whose critical eye suffered no movement
of the chase to escape him; “and he has need
of it, sail from what haven he may! Yon brigantine
is prettily handled! Little have we gained by
our fire, but the gunner’s account of ammunition
expended; and little has the free-trader lost, but
a studding-sail-boom, which will work up very well,
yet, into top-gallant-yards, and other light spars,
for such a cockle-shell.”
“It is something gained, to
force him off the land into rougher water;”
Ludlow mildly answered. “I think we see
his quarter-pieces more plainly, than before the gun
was used.”
“No doubt, Sir, no doubt.
I got a glimpse of his lower dead-eyes, a minute ago;
but I have been near enough to see the saucy look of
the hussy under his bowsprit; yet there goes the brigantine,
at large!”
“I am certain that we are closing;”
thoughtfully returned Ludlow. “Hand me
a glass, quarter master.”
Trysail watched the countenance of
his young commander, as he examined the chase with
the aid of the instrument; and he thought he read strong
discontent in his features, when the other laid it
aside.
“Does he show no signs of coming
back to his allegiance, Sir? or does the
rogue hold out in obstinacy?”
“The figure on his poop is the
bold man who ventured on board the Coquette, and who
now seems quite as much at his ease as when he exhibited
his effrontery here!”
“There is a look of deep water
about that rogue; and I thought Her Majesty had gained
a prize, when he first put foot on our decks.
You are right enough, Sir, in calling him a bold one!
The fellow’s impudence would unsettle the discipline
of a whole ship’s company, though every other
man were an officer, and all the rest priests.
He took up as much room in walking the quarter-deck,
as a ninety in waring; and the truck is not driven
on the head of that top-gallant-mast, half as hard
as the hat is riveted to his head. The fellow
has no reverence for a pennant! I managed, in
shifting pennants at sunset, to make the fly of the
one that came down flap in his impudent countenance,
by way of hint; and he took it as a Dutchman minds
a signal that is, as a question to be answered
in the next watch. A little polish got on the
quarter-deck of a man-of-war, would make a philosopher
of the rogue, and fit him for any company, short of
heaven!”
“There goes a new boom, aloft!”
cried Ludlow, interrupting the discursive discourse
of the master. “He is bent on getting in
with the shore.”
“If these puffs come much heavier,”
returned the master, whose opinions of the chase vacillated
with his professional feelings, “we shall have
him at our own play, and try the qualities of his
brigantine! The sea has a green spot to windward,
and there are strong symptoms of a squall on the water.
One can almost see into the upper world, with an air
clear as this. Your northers sweep the mists
off America, and leave both sea and land bright as
a school-boy’s face, before the tears have dimmed
it, after the first flogging. You have sailed
in the southern seas, Captain Ludlow, I know; for
we were shipmates among the islands, years that are
past: but I never heard whether you have run
the Gibralter passage, and seen the blue water that
lies among the Italy mountains?”
“I made a cruise against the
Barbary states, when a lad; and we had business that
took us to the northern shore.”
“Ay! ’Tis your northern
shore, I mean! There is not a foot of it all,
from the rock at the entrance to the Fare of Messina,
that eye of mine hath not seen. No want of look-outs
and land-marks in that quarter! Here we are close
aboard of America, which lies some eight or ten leagues
there-away to the northward of us, and some forty
astern; and yet, if it were not for our departure,
with the color of the water, and a knowledge of the
soundings, one might believe himself in the middle
of the Atlantic. Many a good ship plumps upon
America before she knows where she is going; while
in yon sea, you may run for a mountain, with its side
in full view, four-and-twenty hours on a stretch,
before you see the town at its foot.”
“Nature has compensated for
the difference, in defending the approach to this
coast, by the Gulf Stream, with its floating weeds
and different temperature; while the lead may feel
its way in the darkest night, for no roof of a house
is more gradual than the ascent of this shore, from
a hundred fathoms to a sandy beach.”
“I said many a good ship, Captain
Ludlow, and not good navigator. No no your
thorough-bred knows the difference between green water
and blue, as well as between a hand-lead and the deep-sea.
But I remember to have missed an observation, once,
when running for Genoa, before a mistrail. There
was a likelihood of making our land-fall in the night,
and the greater the need of knowing the ship’s
position. I have often thought, Sir, that the
ocean was like human life, a blind track
for all that is ahead, and none of the clearest as
respects that which has been passed over. Many
a man runs headlong to his own destruction, and many
a ship steers for a reef under a press of canvas.
To-morrow is a fog, into which none of us can see;
and even the present time is little better than thick
weather, into which we look without getting much information.
Well, as I was observing, here lay our course, with
the wind as near aft as need be, blowing much as at
present; for your French mistrail has a family likeness
to the American norther. We had the main-top-gallant-sail
set, without studding-sails, for we began to think
of the deep bight in which Genoa is stowed, and the
sun had dipped more than an hour. As our good
fortune would have it, clouds and mistrails do not
agree long, and we got a clear horizon. Here
lay a mountain of snow, northerly, a little west,
and there lay another, southerly with easting.
The best ship in Queen Anne’s navy could not
have fetched either in a day’s run, and yet
there we saw them, as plainly as if anchored under
their lee! A look at the chart soon gave us an
insight into our situation. The first were the
Alps, as they call them, being as I suppose the French
for apes, of which there are no doubt plenty in those
regions; and the other were the highlands of Corsica,
both being as white, in midsummer, as the hair of a
man of fourscore. You see, Sir, we had only to
set the two, by compass, to know, within a league
or two, where we were. So we ran till midnight,
and hove-to; and in the morning we took the light
to feel for our haven ”
“The brigantine is gybing, again!”
cried Ludlow. “He is determined to shoal
his water!”
The master glanced an eye around the
horizon and then pointed steadily towards the north.
Ludlow observed the gesture, and, turning his head,
he was at no loss to read its meaning.