Tilton_TempestTossed.txt topic ['13', '324', '378', '393']
PROLOGUE.
OUT of sight of land, rolling on the sea, and glittering
in the daybreak, lay a dismasted ship ^a burnt,
charred hulk that had just escaped total destruction by
lightning and hurricane.
No captain was at the helm ; no sailor on deck ; no
boat hanging in the davits ; no sign of life on board ;
nothing but a ganglion of fallen rigging that lay in wild
heaps around three stumps of masts.
The absent boats suggested a hope that, through the
mercy of God, the ship's company had escaped with their
lives.
So had the ship herself, for she lived.
Her name too lived with her, and was trying to shine
in the sun, whose rays danced lamely on the half-glittering,
half-begrimed gold letters of the word Coromandel.
What charmed craft was this, that without mast or sail,
without crew or helmsman, had survived abandonment
and withstood the storm ?
Was it some iron-plated line-of -battle ship, having won
a doubtful victory over the elements ? But the black sides
showed neither porthole nor gun.
Was it a vagrant prison-hulk, whose mutinous convicts
had fired their dungeon and fled ? But there was none of
the mildew or rust of a floating jail.
Was it a loathsome and wandering hospital, cast adrift
to be purged of the winds ? But there were no high upper-
works to indicate a fever-ship.
9
10 PROLOGUE.
The rolling hulk must have been something different
from all these ; perhaps a trim whaler or stately packet ; but
whatever it was once, it was now a pitiful ruin.
Like a fly that had dashed through a lamplight leaving
its wings in the flame, the Ooromandel had passed through
a conflagration which had swept off her masts, her sails,
her rigging, her railing, everything that was dry and in-
flammable ; and yet her hull remained ; defaced, but un-
harmed ; nevertheless, foredoomed perhaps to a Slower yet
sadder fate ; for the great water-fly now lay unwinged,
bedrabbled of the waves, and forlornly awaiting a lingering
death.
The whole world loves to pity a few castaways ; like
the Polaris wanderers, who drifted at sea for many months
on a crumbling iceberg ; or like the Medusa's raft-full of
sufferers, whose anguish Gericault painted ; or like La
Perouse and his missing ships and comrades, whose fate
was hidden from mankind for a generation.
What was the Coromanders still stranger tale ?
CHAPTER I.
THE TRIAL TRIP.
THE Coromandel, a superb ship of 418 tons, was built in
1847 by three public-spirited Boston merchants who
were promised the help of the Navy Department in a search
for Sir John Franklin-^a project of rescue then in the
full flush of those bright hopes which not till a quarter
of a century later faded away f oreyer.
By a lattice-work composed of cross-beams, hanging
knees, and two-inch planks, the ship had been made as
tough as a hickory wedge, to plough the ice-floe.
But after her launching the government pronounced her
too big for Arctic navigation ; and her chagrined owners
dropped her original name (which was to have been the
North Star), and equipped and christened her for their
familiar trade with the Coromandel Coast.
Owing to her staunchness of build, and her dryness of
hold, she was chartered to carry a select and (at that time)
unusual cargo of canned meats, vegetables, and fruits to
Cape Town for the South Atlantic whaling fleets.
Changed thus in name and destination, the Coromandel,
Capt. Chiswick K. Lane, sailed from Boston, August 5th,
1847, bound for the Cape of Good Hope.
Her trial trip proved a trip of trials.
The captain ha4 promised, since his ship was new, and
had her honors yet to win, to make his voyage in fifty
dayj ; but after fifty-six by nautical reckoning (that is,
11 /
13 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
from noon 1x) noon), he was not yet in sight of the Cape
Colony Coast.
At noon on the fifty-seventh, Bodney Vail, M.D.,
one of the passengers, took the ship's position with a
small ivory quadrant which he carried as a scientific toy.
Just then a flying-fish leaped on board the first visitor
of the kind during the voyage.
**My wife," said Dr. Vail, *^ wants to see one of these
shining creatures ; I will take this down to her in the
cabin.^^
Mrs. Mary Vail, a delicate invalid, was in her state-
room, sitting by a work-basket, stitching a little piece of
cream-colored fiannel.
"What, still busy?" exclaimed her husband. "Sew-
ing, sewing, always sewing ! Np variation of the needle
on this ship ! "
A princess of needle-craft was Mary Vail, deft and cun-
ning in her white-fingered art. A needle and thread are
as necessary to some women as a cup of tea is to others.
Mrs. Vail had sewed for the poor, sewed for the sick,
sewed for orphans, sewed for charity scholars, and was
sewing now for whom ?
For somebody who was nobody I
Within her motherly mind, she had conjured up the
plan of a wee wardrobe, of which nobody should sew a soli-
tary stitch except herself : an outfit whereof the inventory
ran in this wise :
Six tiny shirts of linen cambric, soft as rose-leaves ; six
petticoats of flannel, downy as the fur of white mice ; six
dresses of Nainsook lawn,, with tucks like the reefs in the
CoromandePs sails ; six pairs of Lilliput socks, of zephyr
worsted, with twisted strings and dangling fuzz-balls; and
finally, a baby^s cap, with ribbons pilfered from boxes of
wedding cake.
Just as Dr. Vail stepped into the state-room, Mrs. Vail
THE TRIAL TRIP. 13
was talking of these uncompleted garments to her nurse,
Aunt Bel. This companion of her heart's hopes was an
African who had never seen Africa. Bel had nursed Mary's
mother at Mary's birth, and now was sailing half way
round the world to greet the unborn face of that child's
child.
" What you got dar ? " asked Bel, as Eodney held out
the flying-fish on a palm-leaf fan.
*^ Here," said he, "is the most persecuted of. God's creat-
ures. The dolphin chases him out of the water, and the
frigate-bird drives him back into it. Between his two
hungry enemies, he has no rest either in the air or the sea.
Then, as if appealing to man, he flies on board a passing
ship and dies. This little fellow has just dashed himself
to death in a beautiful spasm."
" Now," said Aunt Bel, striking an attitude of preach-
ment, " dat little lump o' beauty is like de human soul.
Fust, it's in de roUin' waters ob earthly 'fliction ; den in
de flyin' clouds ob divine wrath. De poor soul keep? pal-
pitatin' 'tween de two, and tinks dat each is wus dan t'oder,
until at last it worries de life out of itsef, and gives a flop
up into Aberham's bosom, whar de wicked cease from
troublin', and de weary am at rest."
Aunt Bel's name had been either Isabel or Eosabel ; she
herself did not know which ; but Rodney, to tease her,
called her Jezebel.
. She was a large and elderly woman, compounded in
equal parts of muscle and fat, and so full of the milk of
human kindness that she seemed many mothers in one.
She was mother to one son of her own, and mother to
multitudes of sons of other women. Her own and only
son was a young man, Pete, a gunner's mate in the navy.
" Mary," said Rodney Vail, "we are only two hundred
and fifty miles from land."
" A foreign land," she answered, with a sigh ; for Mrs.
14 TEHPEST-TOSSEI).
Vail had, from the beginning, disapproved of her husband's
trip to Cape Town. Nevertheless Dr. Vail had based
upon it his hope of & career. His chief and lifelong friend
was Oliver Ohantilly, a young American naval officer. The
tie between them was sacred. ChantiUy early left the
naval service, which was then inactive and unpromising,
and went to Cape Town to construct some wharves and
breakwaters after American models. These works prom-
ising to prove remunerative,^ ChantiUy had written home
inviting Vail to aid him. There was also to be a viaduct,
which Vail, who had studied civil engineering, would
exclusively direct. Vail had eagerly accepted Chantilly's
offer, and was now on his way to join his friend in South
Africa.
The voyage was one to which Mrs. Vail, vowing she
would ne'er consent, consented.
Woman-like !
Eodney Vail, whose student-life had been passed first at
Harvard and afterward at Jena, had undertaken, to master
two scientific professions, medicine and engineering ; the
first for his father's sake, the second for his own ; and on
coming home from Europe, lie straightway pursued a
third study, the most fascinating of all -the art of love.
Having known Mary Pritchard from childhood ; having
gone to school with her, played blind-man's-buff with her,
and hunted for birds' nests with her ; having done all this
in his boyish years without feeling any mysterious senti-
ment for her, or consciously falling in love with her;
nevertheless when, on his return from a long absence, he
saw her no longer a school-girl but the school-teacher,
no longer a child but a woman, her face and character both
of ripe loveliness, Rodney Vail marveled at his former
stupidity in not having discovered all this in Mary
Pritchard several years before it existed to be seen ; but
he saw it now so vividly that he bowed down before it,
THE TBIAL TRIP. 15
and worshiped it ; ^just as some young Greek, after long
playing with Psyche as a companion, yet without suspect-
ing her a goddess, might at last stand abashed at discover-
ing her divinity.
" Our love was not at first sight,** said Rodney, '* but all
philosophers admit that second-sight is what shows to the
soul its chief visions and high delights ; ^which was the
way I came to see mine/'
This husband and wife had been married about a year,
and their honeymoon had not waned but waxed.
Standing in the state-room, discussing the winged fish,
Eodney Vail presented a manly figure, a trifle above the
ordinary height ; a frame not stalwart but strong ; a head
that took a large hat ; hair fine and light, tinged with a
slight shade of auburn ; a countenance older than most
men show at twenty-six ; eyes deep-set, steel blue, and
when fired, as bright as diamonds ; a hawk's nose, with
game-blooded nostrils ; and a slight beard and moustache,
neither of which had ever been cut.
Mrs. Vail sat on a low trunk. Her dark hazel eyes,
which were turned away from the' light, appeared deep
black, and her hair added its jet to match. A woman's
hair is one of the supreme beauties of the world. The
beauty of Mary's was in its color and curls. She wore it
in ringlets at the side of her head, and knotted with a tor-
toise-shell comb at the back. The white line of parting
that ran through the black masses curved exquisitely over
her rounded head. Her husband, who stood over her,
gently traced this curve with his forefinger, and might
have quoted of it Mrs. Browning's metaphor (had it then
been written),
* One moonbeam from the forehead to the crown. "
Mrs. Vail answered this caress with a look which showed
16 TEMPEST-TOSSED,
that, though she was a Puritan of the good old Christian
stock, she was given to idolatry, and her idol was her hus-*
band.
*^Mary, " said he, pointing to the silyery dead creature
on the yellow fan, " these lustrous wings have ended their
flight in this life ; but Plato says that the swan at death
sings her sweet song because she divines her immortality.
Who knows but this little siren of the sea will be flying to
meet us on our voyage into the next world ? ^'
"Crazy stuff!'' exclaimed Bel, who was the Biblical
authority for the family.. " What's de good book say ?
' Dere shall be no more sea. ' How den can dere be any fish ? "
Jezebel, at Rodney's order, then opened the brass-rim-
med window of the state-room, and threw overboard the
flying-fish ; which done, she stood fitting her big, serene
face into the small frame, watching the weather.
What are you looking for, Jezebel ?"
Massa Vail, I'm looking for de Ian'. "
*^ No, you are looking up into the clouds ^you will not
see land in that quarter. "
" Yes, I see it now. "
" What land ? "
^' I see de promise Ian' de Ian' what the good book
says :
*' * Sweet fields beyond de swellin' flood
Stan* dressed in livin' green.' "
**Ah, " said Rodney, with mock gravity, "you may
look at it, but you can never enter it, for no Jezebel can
enter the kingdom of heaven. "
*^ My dear Rodney, " sighed Mary, " all day long my mind
has been shadowed with a presentiment of evil. "
" Nonsense ! " he exclaimed. " Premonitions belong to
the limbo of ghosts, wraiths, stigmata, and the like ; that
is, to the Utopia of the imagination, "
it
THE TRIAL TRIP. 17
',*But, Rodney, why is Bel always* seeing visions and
'dreaming dreams ? *'
"JezebeV he asked, "what new phantom have you
been worrying Mary with ? Is it some of your marriage-
suppers with Jacob and Esau ? with Enoch and Elijah ?
What's the last new revelation ? Come. ''
Nothing pleased Aunt Bel better than to recite her noc-
turnal interchanges with the heavenly shades.
'* Massa Vail," said she, " my boy Pete, he come to mo.
Now he ain't dead ; so he didn't come in white ; he come
in his own skin, and dat's black enough ; but de Lord
made it for Pete, and if Pete's white enough for de Lord,
he's white enough for me. Well, dis yer boy Pete, he's a
man grown, and he come to me, and he says. Mammy, you
shall go tru de fiery furnace. So shall de Missis. So
shall de Massa. You mus' all go tru de seven times heated
furnace. And when de fire is a crackin' and crackin',
and de flame is a curlin' and curlin', and de heat is a
meltin' and meltin', and when it is a tryin' to consume de
hem of your garments, den shall Nebchanezzar say. Did we
not cast tree into de midst of de fire? True, King.
Den Nebchanezzar shall say, Lo, I Bee four, loose, walkin'
in de midst of de fire, and dey have no hurt, and de form
of de fourth is like de Son of God."
. Jezebel uttered these words with such fervor that Dr.
Vail, in looking at her, was unaware for a moment that his
wife, sitting behind him, was lapsing into a fainting fit.
The pallid lady was instantly assisted to her bed.
The physician's glance showed Eodney that Mary's trial
had come. It was premature, but was at hand. Dr. Vail
understood its on^nous meaning. If there is a sacred
spectacle on earth, it is a woman in the hour of the most
majestic of human anguish. Eodney, in now gazing at
its approach, borrowed from it a dread that filled and
shok his own soul.
1 8 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
^^ What if this woman, ^' thought he, " the pearl, the
crown of my life, the one image of my hearths worship
what if she should die ! to be buried in the sea ! or in
the foreign land that lies just before us, turning its Good
Hope into despair! ^'
Dr. VaiFs loud watch, as he looked at it in silence,
seemed uttering a death-tick.
*^Dear lamb,*' said old Bel, cheerily to Mrs. Vail, " dis
am a strange world. De women hav all de hardest work to
do, all de heaviest burdens to bear, while de men jist stand
and wait for de salvation ob de Lord. But never mind,
honey. De men is shet off from de 'ceedin' great and pre-
cious promises. What's de good book say ? * What is man
dat Dou art mindful ob him ? ' Now, it says noffin like
dat ob de woman. Why ain't de Lord mindful ob de
man ? Cause de Lord wants to give his whole mind to de
woman."
^^ Rodney, what is this faintness ? '' asked his wife, with
a broken voice.
^^ Taste this," he replied.
But the wine" did not revive her, and she sank into a
lethargy.
The daylight was now so far spent, and the twilight
had so far deepened, that Dr. Vail, on taking out his
watch, could not see the hands across the gold face.
Suddenly vivid lightning and immediate thunder started
him to his feet. The ship shook from stem to stem ; a
tumbler of water on the stand beside him spilt on his
hand. Then came another flash and peal. Between the
flashes the darkness was appalling.
Preoccupied with his patient, he had not noticed the
gathering storm till it had burst.
Mary's features were strangely illumined by the fiery
beams.
Bodney gazed in amazement as her stiff and rigid body
THE TBIAL TRIP. ' 19
passed alternately out of light into darkness out of dark-
ness into light. She lay without consciousness, and appar-
ently without life.
Then a flash of horrible brightness pierced the state-
room window, and shot like an arrow into Dr. VaiFs
blinded eyes. A simultaneous thunder-clap, like a ham-
mer-stroke, smote his ears as if it would crush the sense
of hearing. The jar to the ship was so violent that he
tottered back, staggered like a drunken man, struck
his head violently against an iron bolt, and fell to the
floor.
Within his mind, in the act of falling, scene after
scene of his past life rose before, him : ^his father's house,
and the meadow in front of it ; the harbor of Salem,
with its ships and fishing-smacks ; the corpses on the dis-
secting table, and the keen scalpels ; the clinking mugs
in the German bier-gardens ; Mary Pritchard going home
from school through Kewberry lane, carrying a handful of
pinks ; Oliver Chantilly's letter from Cape Town, lying
in its blue envelope ; Mary Vail with a pale face, dead
and not buried ; a wild-looking man crouching down in a
corner by her side ; a blazing light, like the end of the
world : all this passed through Eodney VaiFs mind like
an electric message through the wires ; and, though the
process was but momentary, yet it seemed to him to cover
his whole life.
At length he rose to his feet. What had happened to
him, he knew not. But he heard a cry of "Fire !" He
heard voices shrieking in terror. He heard tramping feet
overhead. The horrible truth broke upon him that the
ship was in flames.
He opened the state-room door, and, without emerg-
ing,, caught a glimpse of the confusion in the saloon.
The scene was heart-rending. Most of the men had
already rushed to the deck to learn the situation, but the
20 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
women were huddled in the cabin, listening to orders
from John Blaisdell, the first mate.
" Lightning/' said he, " has struck the ship. The rig-
ging is ablaze. The boats are lowering. There's no time
to save anything hardly to save yourselves. The women
and children must be taken first. Come this way ^no
crowding one at a time quick.''
The mate stood by the stairway, and bravely helped
them forward to their escape.
In escaping, one frightened fugitive caught up a gar-
ment ; another, a box ; and, generally, each seized some
unimportant article, the first that came to hand. The
Eev. Mr. Atwill clutched his Ecclesiastical Almanac ;
Madame D'Arblay, who had many valuables to lose, be-
thought herself of saving only a pin-cushion ; Mr. and
Mrs. Gansevoort, an elderly couple, each took firm hold
of the same sea-biscuit, and carried it away between them ;
but Mr. Jansen, who had been shipwrecked once before,
said to himself calmly, "I will leave everything else, and
take my pea-jacket and life-preserver."
Dr. Vail, through all this commoticm, stood by his wife's
bedside, holding her right wrist in his two hands, and
searching in agony for a pulse which his sensitive touch
could no longer detect, and which his skilled judgment
told him had ceased to beat.
Eight over him on deck he heard (through the port-
hole) the tremulous voice of Capt. Lane, crying out to the
bewildered passengers :
" Quick ! The boats will be burned if we stay here.
Let us quit the ship. Hasten for your lives."
Then, with Blaisdell's powerful assistance (for the mate
out-captained the captain), the terrified women and chil-
dren were put into the boats, and the men followed.
Eain now began to fall ; big drops fiercely bespattered
the sea.
THE TRIAL TRIP. 21
XTp to this moment, Rodney Vail had neyer once thought
of himself, nor of Bel, but only of Mary.
Blaisdell stood ready, with a rope in his hand, to lower
himself, the last man, into the last boat, ^the captain having
already, with cowardly haste, clambered down into another.
Eodney heard the mate say,
** Vail is missing. Where is Vail ? Where is Vail's wife?
They are not in the boats."
But at the same time, Bodney heard Capt. Lane give an
order in these words :
** Wait no longer ! boys 1 push off 1 Get out of the way
of these sparks 1 The ship is lost. Blaisdell, east south-
east ! "
In went the oars, off went the boats, and up went the
flames, crimsoning the sky.
Dr. Vail, who was left on the burning vessel, had a calm,
vivid, and awful sense of the scene. He fully realized by
what danger he was surrounded, and by what fate he was
approached. Stumbling against the nurse, who sat with
patient, folded hands, quiet as the dead, he exclaimed,
" Great God 1 Bel, are you here ? I thought you had
escaped. Run 1 Flee for your life ! It is not too late.
Quick 1 I'll call the captain back 1 "
Rodney leaped to the window, and cried,
"Lane 1 Lane 1'' but the rolling thunder drowned his
voice.
" Help 1 I say 1 Lane ! Lane 1 " but the cry was un-
answered, unheeded.
No time was left now for anything but death, nor time
to meet this with the dignity that was its due.
"Bel," said Rodney, with a horrible serenity, "Mary
is dead, and we too must die."
As a last act, he knelt at his wife's bedside, took her
hands in his, held them fast, murmured her name, and
kissed her lips.
22 TBMPESI-TOSSED.
He shed no tear, shook no muscle^ and moved no nerve.
It is given unto all men oijce to die : and this man, being
no coward, resolved to meet his fate without fear.
'' Is this death ? " said he. '' Must I face it ? Then I
choose to face it in my wife's face. Death itself shall not
look dead. I shall defy it, and die alive ! "
The rain was a torrent ^a deluge. It was quenching
the conflagration. The fire was fleeing before it. Gloom
was spreading through the state-room. Darkness rolled
in, like a wave, and filled it.
Condemned to die, Eodney Vail sat clasping the hand
of the dead.
Into his mind came a new thought : would the ship,
which was no longer on fire, sink or float ?
He had no sooner asked himself this question than he
heard ^was it Bel's voice ? ^uttering a low prayer. He
had never known her to speak so softly. Her changed
manner awed and melted him. It seemed as if she had
borro'wed the tongue of her mistress, now that her. mistress
was no more. His own name was spoken. The words
were a prayer for his sake.
Suddenly awaking to the mystery, he cried, " Mary !
Mary ! ^my wife ! my wife ! "
His wife's own voice it was that he heard ! ^her own
pulse that he felt ! ^her own living self that his arms
clasped ! ^her own re-warmed lips that he kissed !
She had revived.
Then, as if a new soul had been created within him,
as if a new earth had been unrolled around him, as if a
new heaven bad descended upon him, Eodney. Vail uttered
one exclamation of praise and thanks, and, trembling like
a reed, wept like a child.
It was pitch dark.
^* Bel," he exclaimed, "light the lamp."
** My deal* husband," asked a sick voice, " what is the
THE TRIAL TRIP. 23
matter ? Is' it night ? Have I been asleep ? Has any-
thing gone wrong ? ^'
**No, nothing ! " he cried, in a frenzy of joy. "!N^othing
is wrong in all the world God has set all things right l"^'
Bel quietly rose and lighted the lamp.
At a glance Rodney discovered that Mary knew nothing
of the disaster, and he resolved to conceal it from her for
the present.
This was easy, for her thoughts were not of the ship ;
her critical hour was now at its supreme moment.
Beside her stood a man whose soul rose within him to for-
bid death and to command birth. With proud care he min-
istered mercy. There is a dew distilled from Lethe's
stream to conquer pain. He gave it her, and she quaffed
it. Oblivion overcame her ; peace stole through her weary
frame ; unconscious smiles played over her face ; her white
hands involuntarily moved as if keeping time to music :
and her lips broke forth into a Gregorian chant which
jsho had often sung in church.
Then, in sweet unconsciousness^ an hour after midnight,
herself the first bird of the morning, heralding to others her
happiness before her own heart awoke to it, the sleeping
mother brought her babe iiito this stormy world.
*' Jezebel,*' exclaimed Eodney, *^ this boy is a girl.''
"Hoity toityl" answered Bel. **Why, it's de dear
lamb's lambkin ! Come into my arms ! Dar, so I Cryin' eh 1
Dat's a good sign. Chillen dat ain't bom a cryin' will
never live to laugh. "
" Ah, Oliver Chantilly," thought Rodney, ** have you a
son ? I have a daughter. You and I may now compare
Heaven's gifts. God's first piece of humanity was man
his second was woman. Which of the two is more like
the Maker ? "
'*I declar," said Bel, *^ what a headstrong little piece
showin' her temper a'ready 1 Lawks amassy, chillen I
24 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
gins to be folks as soon as dey are bom. Dar, now, bo
a good chile. What's de good book say ?
'* * Bockaby, baby,
On de tree top I '
" But dis yer baby, instead of de tree-top, hab got all de
rollin* ship for a rockin' cradle I I declar 1 ''
\
CHAPTER n.
ughttng against fate.
AFTER the shipwreck, what was the next day^s history
of the fire-scourged Ooromandel ? It was a log kept,
not by Capt. Lane, but Capt. Vail. The vessel Ijad passed
into fresh commission, under a new admiralty.
The day began, for Eodney, before the night ended.
" What shall I do for the ship ? " asked its solitary
master.
The first act of a man when profoundly perplexed is
some unconscious trifle ; so Dr. Vail wound his watch ;
the time was three o'clock in the morning.
**The fire, '' thought he, ** was put out before Lane
was far from the ship. He and his boats will try to re-
turn. The best I can do is to help them find the Oor-
omandel in the dark. *'
So he hunted about for a couple of lanterns, which he
found and lighted.
Crawling then across the deck on his hands and knees,
sometimes slipping and sliding, and fearful that the Bul-
warks were burnt off, which would expose him to the risk
of falling overboard, he finally succeeded in lashing one of
the lights on the larboard side to an unbumt stancheon,
and the other on the starboard to an iron-rod of the main
shrouds.
The rain and wind were still brisk, but were moder-
ating.
25
26 TEMPEST-TOSSED,
The lanterns enabled him to notice that not a mast was
left standing; and that a heap of tangled spars and rigging
lay athwart the ship, dipping their tips into the water,
first on one side, then on the other.
"Everything aloft, '' said he, "has come down, even the
little cherub that sits there in the song. But another
cherub is now lying wrapped in a babe's blanket in the
cabin. So the ship has a good genius on board. '*
Having swung his lanterns, he had partly descended the
stairs, when suddenly he was bumped against by some
rounded object like a tumbling bag or sack, heavy but not
hard.
The blow knocked him down.
" What is this ? " he cried, leaping to his feet only to be
struck again.
" Beaver, you foolish pup ! " he exclaimed, hearing with
grateful relief the welcome bark of Capt. Lane's dog.
This bouncing water-spaniel, brown and big-eared, was
a gift to the captain from a fisherman of Marblehead.
Early during the voyage. Dr. Vail, who was fond of ani-
mals, had made the acquaintance of this frisky dog. The
grateful amphibian, having probably been half-scared
out of his wits by the fire and tempest, now joyfully
capered around his former friend.
Ee- entering the cabin, Beaver following him, Eodney
lighted a lamp in Eoom No. 1, opposite Mary's quarters.
It was a double-room, exactly like hers, and had been oc-
cupied by a rich and showy French grandmother
named D'Arblay, her daughter, and daughter's infant.
Discovering a wine-flask in the rack, and a few biscuits.
Dr. Vail broke a biscuit, tossed part of it down to Beaver,
crunched the remainder with a Jack Tar's appetite, drank
a glass of wine, flung himself ^jacket,- boots, and all ^at
full length on the lounge, and, from the profound fatigue
and reaction that follow nervous excitement, fell asleep.
FIGHTING AGAINST FATE. 27
K"ot so with Bel. Having no nerves to be unstrung, she
did not lie down to re-string them. She gave neither
sleep to her eyes nor slumber to her eyelids. On ordinary
occasions she dozed like a bat, but was now wakeful as an
owl. Sitting with the babe oh her lap, she watched it as
somp swarthy Madonna of the old-time engravings gazing
at the Christ-child.
^^DeLord, " said she, "hab come! What's de good
book say ? ^ Whoso receiveth dis little chile in my name,
receiveth Me ! ' So not only de babe is here, but de Lord
too. Dey are both in one. "
If ever there was a moment of supreme pride in Jeze-
bel's life, it was at that dim hour when, between midnight
and morning, she was the only human being who kept a
vigil on that wrecked ship. Little did she trouble herself
about the shipwreck. That was too stupendous an affair
for her limited powers of anxiety. All great things she
left with God.
*^De Lord," she murmured, ^^must take care ob de
ship, and I must take care ob de chile. / gib de ship to
de Lord, and de Lord gib de chile to ine."
Jezebel's imagination then lifted its. sable wing, and
soared back into the dim and shadowy past. What was
she thinking of ? Was it the worthless lout who had once
been her husband ? ^the good-for-nothing Bruno Bamley
who, after idling away his time for years about the Salem
wharves, at last one day fell overboard, and being heavy
with liquor, took his ^ay down stream into the deep grass
of the bottom, and rose no more ^not even to a coroner's
inquest ? No. Mrs. Jezebel Bamley, having long been
thus widowed, wasted no thoughts on her merciful bereave-
ment and gainful loss. Bruno Bamley went from her
with a good riddance, and even her memory seldom invited
his return. She had never murmured at him in his life,
and never mourned for him after his death. So Jezebel, ir
28 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
thinking of the past, rarely thought of her own affairs,
but usually of other people's.
"Jist to tinfc now," she went on, with alow, lulling,
by-baby voice, *^ jist to tink that twenty-two years, ago,
come September, Sophrony Vail had Baby Mary, and now
Mary's got one ob her own ! You peart little chick, you
are lyin' in dese old arms jist as yer mudder did, on de
day of her bornin. Dear me, I wish dis ole ship wouldn't
jump about so. See how we rock, rock, rock 1 toss, toss,
toss 1 ^roU, roll, roll 1 I trot de lambkin, and de Lord
trots de ship. Now, my little mouse, you lie down dar ! *
and she fixed a snuggery in the second bed, and tucked
the Jittle creature tight against any chance of falling out.
A perplexity arose in Jezebel's mind.
''What's de good book say ? ^Suffer little chillen to
come unto Me.' So de fuss ting is de baby. But de next
ting is de baby-clo's. Dat's what worries me. Dis yer
work-basket is full o' beginnins' but no endins'."
Bel then remembered that Madame D'Arblay's grandson
(aged seven months) had a French wardrobe of sinful
extravagance an uncommon outfit of infant vanities.
^^If all dem follies and fineries hab been lef behind, dey
will jes' come in play for my lamb's lambkin."
Bel started for room No. 1 on a raid of discovery.
Opening the door she startled Eodney, who sprang out
of sleep and asked,
" What's the matter ? "
*' Matter? Why, Massa Vail now, Beaver, you be
off ! " cried she, in a startled voice, to the dog, that wanted
to know why she was opening the canvas-covered trunk.
'^ Massa Vail, I'm a-lookin' for made-up clo's for my
lambkin. What's de good book say ? ' From him dat hath
not, shall be taken away even dat which he hath.' Jist
look into dis trunk I What a heap o' shirts, petticoats,
and bands I It would be a sin and shame not to have
FIGHTIirO AGAIlfST FATE, 29
dem tings used ! We must use dis world as not abusin'
it. Git away, Beaver, you troublesome dog, and don't put
your snoopin' nose in here."
" Aunt Bel," said Dr. Vail, " listen to me : Mary must
not know of the shipwreck. Don't say a word about it
to Mary. She must first get strength to bear it. Act as
though nothing strange had taken place. Her life depends
on it."
"Yes, Massa Vail, and now jist you step in, light-
footed, and bring out dat baby here to me."
Eodney stole into his wife's room, blessed her in her
sleep, and bending over the babe, lifted the little sleepy
lump, blanket and all, and took the immortal burden
across the cabin to Bel.
" It's an ill- wind, " said he, " that blows nobody any good,
and this tempest has shaken this fair fruit into our lap."
Seated on Madame D'Arblay's rocking-chair, Jezebel
rocked herself against the lurchings of the skip, trying to
keep a level, and proceeded to dress the babe in the style
approved by loyalist French grandmothers under King
Louis Philippe.
The tiny head was brushed; the velvety cheeks were
powdered ; the downy feet were shod with felt ^like King
Lear's steeds ; the little neck, that could not hold up its
own head, was fretted round with gossamer-lace ; and, as
if to make a fine mockery of misfortune, the white sleeves
were gayly looped with gold-and-coral snaps.
In this fine array, the young child was presented to her
waking and joyful mother.
" How kind of Madame D'Arblay ! " exclaimed Eodney
to Mrs. Vail, stretching out his hands over the babe's pro-
digious skirt, as if in a vain attempt to measure its length.
Yes," replied Mary, "tell her so for me."
My dear lamb," remarked Jezebel, " what's de good
book say? *De Lord sees de end from de beginnin'.' Yes,
(6
30 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
dat's what de Lord saw when he looked at dat ole Dobbly
woman's trunks. . He said to himself, *Put dat boy's clo's
in, ole woman ! Heap *em up ! pack 'em tight 1 But not
for de Dobbly boy. Oh no ! Dere's anoder chile a comin'
into dis world by and by, who will have need o' baby clo's,
and I am de Lord and must be dar to provide.^ Dat's why
de Lord gave Gaspar Dobbly sich a heap o' stuff. It was
not for Gaspar. It was all for dis yer lambkin."
Brighter than any ray of sunshine in this naughty
world, was the mild and holy light that shone in the eyes
of Mary Vail while gazing into the face of her first-born
that lav nestled in her bosom. Gratitude unutterable
filled that mother's soul. Heaven's own peace descended
into her breast, accompanied by heaven's latest angel to
bear witness to its divine source.
"Mary," exclaimed the doctor, with assumed gayety,
**what good news this will be to send to Grandfather
Pritchard 1^"
" Yes, dear Eodney, write to him as soon as you land,
and also to my old pupil Lucy Wilmerding that dear girl
in London."
"Yes," added Eodney, putting one forefinger on the
other, as if counting, " and to Miss Mehitable, and to
Uncle Billings, and to the Peaseleys, and to the Danvers
people, and to the Hopkintons at Marblehead."
" How proud," said Mary, "I shall be to show my babe
to Eosa Chantilly ! Our children will be playmates."
Dr. Vail now watched on deck for the daylight.
*^ What a pitiful plight I " he exclaimed, as he surveyed
the ship's bereavement. " God help us ! What a wreck ! "
The desolation, when fully revealed at dawn, chilled
his soul as the mist chilled his flesh.
The havoc seemed total.
The ship's hull was almost covered out of sight by the
ma^ of rigging which lay on it.
FIGHTING AGAIlSrST FATE, 31
**How long can this poor hulk float ? '' he cried, for the
ship had the hideous look of being about to plunge to the
bottom at once.
When the morning fully came, the weather was hazy ;
the sun was smokily visible and greatly enlarged ; Eodney
could look at it without winking. There was no horizon.
The vessel was shut in, either by fog or mist, or by the
diffused remainder of her own smoke.
He peered forward with straining eyes. " Great heav-
en ! " he cried. *^ How will the boats ever find the ship ?
The eye cannot see twice the Coromandel's length ! "
Glancing round the deck, he noted that not a single
boat had been left on board, but that all the iron davits
from which the boats had been lowered were bent out-
ward as if waiting for the departed crews to return.
The fire, he saw, had gone over the ship like a varnish
brush, polishing everything to a charred black. Still the
flames had nowhere gnawed their way through the plank-
ing, except to destroy the weather-boarding of the bul-
warks, leaving only their solid stancheons and a part of
their top-rail. These stancheons stood like a row of grim
Ethiops, keeping sentry. The lightning had peeled off
the word Ooromandel from one side of the figure-head,
leaving it untouched on the other.
The pumps, which Dr. Vail hastened to try, showed no
leak which was a profound comfort.
It then occured to him to examine whether the cargo
had shifted. He lifted a hatch and made his way darkly
down for a tour of inquiry. He groped like a stevedore
along the bulk-heads, crawled over the merchandise, peer-
ed into the crevices between the well-packed goods, and
found that everywhere, even to the store-room of the orlop-
deck, everything was firm, and nothing was banging about
except himself as he was set lurching by the sea.
**How well, " said he, *^ these cans and cases have beer
32 TSMPEST-TOSSED.
packed 1 They fit each other like stones in a wall. They
would be a solid fortress against starvation. What if, from
hunger, my little family of castaways should have to break
into this storehouse ! Here are rations enough for a navy. '^
Eetuming to the deck, he stretched a rope from stan-
cheon to stancheon around the ship for a life-line, so that
if he were struck by a wave he might have something to
clutch at and cling to.
" I must hoist a signal of distress, '* said he ; and tying
one of the bed-sheets to a boat-hook, he lashed the shaft
to the stump of the mizzen-mast, and swung out the white
emblem to the breeze.
Dr. Vail's greatest labor was to get the ship out of the
trough of the sea in other words, to swing her head
round to the wind. He knew this might be accomplish-
ed if he could get the debris of the fallen spars overboard to
serve as a water-drag, leaving the ship moored to this as to
a buo^^ ; for the ship would drift to a cable's length away
from the drag, and would then swing round to this slug-
gish mass as to a semi-anchorage.
" That's the plan, " said he, ^* but how can I move these
spars ? '
Taxing his ingenuity for the construction of this drag,
or rather for its launching (since it had constructed itself)
he cunningly fixed a series of puUies that multiplied his
strength forty-fold ; and at last, after much toil and
struggle, he lifted, swayed, and heaved the heavy timbers
triumphantly into the sea.
The ship immediately swung to, pointed like a weather-
vane directly at the wind, rode steadily, and lifted her
fore-foot gracefully over every wave that came.
This was the best piece of work he did on the ship ; and
he felt in doing it that it ministered a sweet medicine to
Mary, for it smoothed her pillow and gave to her tossing
bed a comparative quiet.
FIGHTIira AGAINST FATE. 33
At noon he got out his quadrant to take the ship's
position.
Capt. Lane, in escaping, had carried with him his port-
able instruments, and left only the standard compass
which was a fixture in the deck, set like a bull's-eye in
front of the steersman's wheel. The heavy glass over it
was so solid that a man could stand on it as on a pavement.
It had not been injured. Its animated presence seemed to
say that the ship still had a soul, hopeful of- life, vigilant
under calamity, and tremulous to fate.
The Coromandel's bearings were Lat. 30 28' S., Long.
14'36'E.
On hunting for a map or chart to see how far he was
from Oape Town, Rodney Vail, to his dismay, could not
find one on the ship.
So he knew, and yet he did not know, his position. He
knew it nautically, but not geographically. He was like a
man who, landing from a balloon, for instance, in Lat,
42 N". and Long. 70 W., but having no map of the N"ew
England coast, could not tell whether he was at Nahant
Beach or at Oape Ood.
Nevertheless, Rodney knew that the Ooromandel was
within two hundred and fifty miles of Table Bay.
^^ Ah, " said he, ^^ without masts, or sails, or crew, that's
a long stretch from land ! "
Moreover, he knew that two strong motive powers were
carrying him every moment still further off. One was the
Trade Wind, which, in that quarter of the world, blows all
the year round from Southeast to Northwest; the other
was the Great Ocean Current, which follows the Trade
Wind across the South Atlantic.
Sweeping the horizon with his Tfeather-glass to discover
some other object than the waves and clouds, he heaved a
sigh and exclaimed,
" Nothing but nothingness ! Yes, yonder goes a floclf
I
34 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
of sea-birds oyerhead ! " and he suddenly lifted his arms
towards them^ and with a strange pathos of appeal^ cried
out,
^^0 cranes of Ibycus, fly home and bear thither the tale
of my misfortunes 1 ^^
After the unheeding birds flew by, Rodney thought of
putting up a jury-mast.
"No, I shall not rig a sail,'^ said he, ''for the ship
could go only before the wind, and this would simply carry
her faster and further away from the coast.*'
Nevertheless, he examined the rudder to see whether it
was in steering order. The rudder itself was not damag-
ed. The wheel, being of hard wood and inlaid with brass,
had suffered ugly disfigurement rather than actual harm.
But the leather ropes of the tiller had snapped, and their
broken ends were curled like scraps of pork in a frying-pan.
Overhauling the ship's stores, he selected a piece of strong
rope to replace these, and he thus put the helm in working
condition even though there was no motive-power for steer-
age-way.
Just then, the Coromandel, in mounting over a high
wave, mournfully tolled her bell ; and Eodney^ not relish-
ing its dismal sound, tied its hammer and stopped its
requiem.
This done, he sat down by the companion-way and took
off his hat that the breeze might cool his brow. The dog
wedged his brown, shaggy head under his master's arm,
while the master occupied himself with his thoughts.
" Ah," he exclaimed, snuffing the damp smell of the
quenched fire, '' in prosperity, saith the proverb, no altars
smoke ; but I have had a calamity that has sent up its
flames to all the heavens. Nevertheless, Mary is alive
the child is bom the ship is afloat. Twelve hours ago,
in exchange for these mercies I would have given the uni-
verse. I then thanked heaven for its goodness. Shall I now
FIGHTIKG AGAIKST PATE. 35
take back those thanks ? No, amid this day's ruins, God
be praised for this day^s mercies! Better men than I
have had worse calamities men of whom the world was
not worthy ! They have been stoned ; they have been
sawn asunder ; they have been slain with the sword ; they
have wandered about in sheep-skins and goat-skins ; they
have hidden in deserts, in mountains, in dens, in caves of
the earth. Who am I compared with these ? What have
I lost ? Nothing to what J have gained. Gloria in Ex-
celsis Deo."
Patting the dog's head he still went on talking to him-
self.
" My wife suspects nothing as to the disaster. She is
shipwrecked without knowing it. Hers is a novel com-
fort in misery an unheard of luxury in misfortune.'*
Then Rodney's grateful mind reverted lovingly to the
little new-comer, swaddled in French finery down stairs.
" What a tender little thing ! " said he. '' That babe,
amid the outer roughness of this fire-blasted ship, is like
a pearl hidden in a sea-rusted shell."
Whereupon the civil engineer, working with the magic
enginery of his fancy, straightway built a castle in Spain
for the young maid to dwell in, spanned the sky with rain-
bows for her to gaze at, paved the world with flowers for
her to walk on, and erected a golden gate for her to pass
through ^into a paradise on earth.
Suddenly a great clump of drift-weed floated up appa-
rently from under the ship, as if the wind had blown her
first on to it, and then over it.
For a moment Dr. Vail deceived himself with the hal-
lucination, that it . was a boat of rescue ; but he quickly
saw his mistake, and with a sigh of disappointment ex-
claimed,
"Why do not the boats come back ? What has become
of Lane ? When the ship was no longer on fire, he ougb
86 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
to have returned to her. Would I have abandoned Mm
so ?s Never 1 Will he reach Cape Town ? If he does if
he there presents himself without his ship, without me, and
without excuse Oliver Chantilly will lift upon the dog a
lion's paw and claw him down I "
Then another thought came over Rodney Tail's mind,
at which he inwardly quaked.
"What if Mary," he exclaimed, "had been left for
dead in the abandoned ship I left to waken alone, in the
fire, in the storm, in her agony ! ^left to bring forth her
babe in darkness and despair ! ^lef t to cry out in her weak-
ness, and get no answer but the tempest ! left to famish,
and die, and her child to perish with her ! ^left to moulder
in this charnel-house, and her ashes to drift about the sea
in this floating urn 1 God ! " he exclaimed, looking
heavenward, "Strip me as bare as this hulk I ^beat and
bufiet me with every storm I toss me on every wave 1
cast me on every desolate shore around the whole earth 1
but let me never be sundered from Mary and this child 1 "
The strong man bent his head upon his hands and
wept..
Beaver barked reprovingly, as if such behavior in the
captain ought to be rebuked by the mate.
Eodney Vail then went down stairs softly; passed on
tip-toe the room through whose door, ajar, he heard the
babe's delicious fretting \ entered into the D'Arblay cita-
del ; slipped off his pea-jacket ; cleansed his hands from
the taint of tar ; put on a white-flannel summer-coat ;
sprinkled a fresh handkerchief with the French lady's
cologne ; stole in upon Mrs. Vail, who was awake, and
glancing at the babe, who was asleep, said peremptorily,
"Mary, this child was bom anonymous, and needs
naming."
"Bom what.?" exclaimed Jezebel, "dere ain't noffin
de matter wid dis yer lambkin's bomin ! "
FIGHTING AGAIN^ST FATE. 37
*^ A name, Jezebel, a name ! What shall be the bab/s
name ? '^
" Law, Massa,'' replied that elder Bister of the church,
** gib her a Scriptnr name, gib her a beautiful name out
ob de good book."
^^Whatshallitbe?"
*^ Well," said Jezebel, pondering the matter, " call her
no, not dat call her no, call her, well, call her
Deuteronomy."
JezebePs suggestion not meeting the approyal of the
critical parents, Eodney said,
'^ Mary, proud mother, name your daughter."
^* Eodney," replied his wife, who had already thought
on the difficult family problem of naming the first child,
" since our dear little girl has had her birth so far from
her own country and since she is to liye an exile in a
foreign land call her Barbara."
**So be it," exclaimed Eodney, pleased with the
thought. " Be Barbara her name. Barbara Vail 1 Let
all the world ring its bells for Barbara 1 Tell it to the
earth and the heavens Barbara ! Barbara Vail ! "
The mother kissed her babe on the forehead, as if to set
the name there as a sacred seal.
" Mary," said her husband, " I now believe in love at
first sight, for I fell in love with Barbara Vail the first
time I set my eyes upon her."
" Tut," said Jezebel, " you am not de only man who
will be a sayin* dat by and by."
CHAPTER HL
BBEAElka THE KBWS.
AFTER the Coromandel had set sail from Boston for
the Cape of Good Hope, not only did many friends
in America follow her -with gentle wishes outward bound,
but in England a young maid's heart went dancing
with the ship along her voyage, and in Cape Town a little
family of joyful expectants found their pulses beating
faster than usual whenever they looked toward the coming
vessel, laden with her precious freight of beloved hearts.
The young girl in England was Lucy Wilmerding, who,
while at her American home in Salem, had been Miss
Mary Pritchard's favorite pupil, and who was now sojourn-
ing at a hotel in London with her father, on their way
through a course of extensive travel in Europe.
Dressed with elegant simplicity, this beautiful young
brunette was sitting with her bonnet on, in her hotel room,
waiting for a carriage in which she was to ride about
London for a day's sight-seeing, when she suddenly be-
thought herself of beguiling the time by writing a letter.
^' Lucy, my dear, to whom are you writing ?^'
'^ Papa, I am writing to. Miss Pritchard I mean to Mrs.
Vail but I keep calling her by her old name, just as the
girls did at school. The letter will reach Cape Town as
soon as she does herself, and will be a pleasant surprise to
her. I have plenty of time to write it before the carriage
comes."
88
BBEAKING THE NEWS. 39
The fair writer, having taken off h^r gloves and dipped
her pen, moved her hand painstakingly across a sheet of
gilt-edged paper, her right forefinger glittering with a
small ruby that flashed like a metaphor over her page.
The following is Lucy Wilmerding's school-girlish letter
to her former teacher :
\
Augnst 16, t847.
London.
Queen's Hotel, St. Martin's-le-Grand, City.
My Dear Mrs. Yail :
(But I have hardly become accustomed to calling you by that name.)
It was only an hour ago that your letter reached me, announcing
your expected change of residence to Cape Town ; and I reply to it
hurriedly while Papa is now hunting through the Guide Book for
places to visit to-day.
Poor, dear Papa I Ever since Mamma died, he has wished me to be
with him all the time. He buys me eyerything he can think of,
whether I ask him to or not. I have such load^oi things I
It is three months since I wrote you last, and it would now take
many pages of these little sheets (please notice the lovely mono-
gram : I had it cut in Geneva) to describe aU the famous places we
have since visited, and all the gay and brilliant entertainments we
have attended particularly in Paris.
The ladies of Paris dress with charming taste so neat and simple.
The street-dress now worn is a rich basque over a plain skirt. This
does away with the old-fashioned dragging flounces that used to
sweep up and down Tremont and Washington streets.
We went twice to see Rachel, the great tragedienne. Papa wanted
me to go again, but this great actress had made me so wretched with
her griefs, she was so real and horrible, that I could see her afterward
in my dreams, creeping toward me with her dagger, and waking me
in a shiver of fear.
Perhaps I did not mention in my last that while we were in Berlin
(where we lived for seven months) a young American gentleman was
very attentive to Papa and me. This person has come here to see us
again, and will remain for a few weeks. He comes every day, and
Papa (who is very, very fond of him) says he has an old head or
young shoulders also a ** faculty " for business, and will one da
make his fortune.
40 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
Papa has no respect, you know, for a young man who cannot
make his way in the world as he did himself. ,
Our young visitor is going to enter as a naval student at Annapo-
lis, the same place where your South African friend, Mr. Chantiliy,
was brought up. My Papa's young friend is to be first a midship-
man, and by and by an admiral. He is tall and splendid, and his
name is Anthony Cammeyer.
How would that name sound for a lady ? I don't mean now, O
dear no a long way off in the future. (Please keep this a great
secret.)
To-day is my sixteenth birthday, and Papa declared that if I
searched I would find gray hairs : but when I glanced at the glass
he replied, not in my head, but his.
Is the Capt. Lane you speak of, Capt. C. K. Lane ? If so. Papa
says the ship will be the better sailor of the two. This Capt. Lane
once sailed one of Papa's ships, and proved treacherous to his trust.
Papa would never have anything to do with him afterward.
My letter, I hope, will reach your new home before you do your-
self ; and I wish it might be awaiting your arrival, to show you that
I never forget my former teacher or at least, that if I forget her in-
structions, I remember her kindness.
The English violet that I enclose is one from a beautiful bunch
which Anthony brought me this morning for my birthday. I hope
it will not altogether fade. It is now the exact emblem of your own
quiet sweetness.
Your ever grateful pupil,
Lucy Wilmerding.
i
P. S. I am going to send you, next winter, a big album of vig-
nette portraits of distinguished Europeans ; and Papa is sure yoii
will respond by sending us some representative pictures of Bushmen
and Hottentots.
Just as Lucy Wilmerding finished writing this letter, a
servant knocked at the door, and presented on a silver
salver a card for Mr. Lawrence Wilmerding.
" Who is your visitor, papa ? '*
*^ My dear, he is business friend of mine, Mr. James
Scarborough a fine specimen of a solid and elderly
"" '-'ihrnan. I shall ask him to drive with us.''
BREAKING THE NEWS. 41
Lncy's hurried letter was promptly mailed per steamer
for Cape Town, and, when within thirty-six hours of Table
Bay, passed at midnight, in a thick mist, within hailing
distance, the dismasted Coromandel, that lay drifting help-f
lessly in the darkness on the second night after the wreck.
Could the letter have cried but with a living voice, as
the agonized soul of the writer must have done, had she
been in such near proximity to the imperiled object of her
affection, a timely alarm might then have been followed by
an easy search and a happy rescue.
But the oppoi;4;unity passed, never to return !
Meanwhile Dr. Vail sought how to break to his sick
wife gently the sad situation of the Coromandel.
^^ Macry," said he, " I wish you were walking in green
fields to-day, instead of tossing in this weary ship."
" Eodney, I am almost sorry to be so near Cape Town,
for when the Coromandel gets there, I shall not be able to
land. It will be so tedious staying on board at the wharf
amid the noise of discharging the cargo. I have been told
that sickness on shipboard is far more depressing in harbor
than at sea."
" Would you like the voyage delayed ? prolonged?"
^^ Yes, except that the other passengers are eager to reach
their destination."
^^Mary, they have already gone ashore."
" But you did not tell me that the Coromandel had ar-
rived ?"
"No, she has not arrived."
"And yet you say the passengers have gone ashore?"
"Yes, they landed in the night : I did not waken you."
" How strange, Rodney, that I did not hear the noise,
for I woke at every whimper that Barbara made."
" Ah, Mary, a mother will sleep il^qjigh. the rattling of
thunder, and yet wake at the sigh of her child. Her ears
are in her heart."
42 TEMPEBT-TOBSED.
'^ Do any other passengers remain on the qjiip ? ^*
^^No."
** How long must we stay here ? '*
^* Till your physician says you may land/^
" Has Oliver Ohantilly been on board ? '^
" I have not seen him."
*^ Have you heard from him ? "
"Not a word/'
** Then, Rodney, go at once to Oliver's house, and see
Bosa. Tell her that I am anchored here like the ship. Ask
her to come and see me, and bring little Philip with her, to
^see darling Barbara. Eosa's pet is seven years old, and
mine is not yet seven days ; but tell Rosa that little girls
are more cunning than bouncing boys. The two mothers
must immediately compare their wonderful children.
This is the natural etiquette of motherhood. Now, Rod-
ney, go at once."
Turning then to Bel, Mrs. Vail continued)
" What shall we do without Madame D'Arblay ? I sup-
pose she has gathered up all Gaspar's clothes and taken
them away with her. How shall we dress our little tot to
receive company ? Poor thing, I was making for her such
a grand wardrobe, and yet she must go naked after all !
Sweet daisy 1"
Whereupon the cruel mother, with her taper white fore-
finger, drilled a small hole in Barbara's left pink cheek,
another in her right, and then in swift succession other
punctures from left to right, and from right to left, mak-
ing a series of small chasms in the delicate flesh.
No permanent injury resulted from these flesh wounds,
which not only quickly healed, but immediately lost all
traces of themselves : ^like many other early impressions
which fond parents seek in vain to leave on their chil-
dren.
"^"t Dobbly woman," said Jezebel, "took French
BBEAKIKG THE NEWS. 43
leave, but le|* de brat's dud's behind. I truss de Lord
she'll never come back for 'em. What's de good book say ?
* Wanity ob wanity, all is wanity.' " -
" Why did Madame D'Arblay leave Gaspar's clothes ? "
asked Mary.
" Cause, Missis, I 'spose sich like fineries would be out
o' fashion where she's agwine to among dem Hottentots.
Why, dey don't wear no clothes at all, dem folks. De
Dobbly boy don't want no sich duds among dat tribe !
What's de good book say ? ^ Let not him dat putteth on
de harness boast like him dat putteth it off.' "
"Mary," said her husband, gravely, '^ intelligence has
reached the ship that a strange shipwreck has lately
occurred in these waters. Three nights ago, during a
' hurricane, a vessel bound to the Cape of Good Hope was .
struck by lightning. This was while you were lying pros-
trate and unconscious. The ill-fated craft was ablaze from
stem to stem. All the boats were lowered. The passen-
gers had no time to save anything, hardly their lives.
One man refused to go. He had a sick wife who could
not be moved. He stood by her, resolved to die with her.
The captain ordered the boats piLshed off, leaving this
man and woman to perish with the ship. Suddenly the
rain fell in torrents Heaven's floods were poured out to
quench Hell. The conflagration Was drenched drowned.
That ship still drifts at sea with her little remnant of peo-
ple on board. But they are safe yes, safe and sound ;
and their rescue is only a question of time just a mere
question of time."
" How did you learn these strange facts ?"
"Do they distress you ?"
" No, they delight me ; I mean, the safety of the ship
9;nd her passengers. It was through Heaven's pity that
they did not perish. But where is that vessel now ?"
" She has passed under my command. "
44 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
''And that ship is the-
99
9
''Yes, it is the Coromandel. ''
The whole truth flashed at last on Mary's mind.
Then the delicate woman, trembling with a sudden ex-
citement which was bom not of fear but of love, gave her
husband a look that conveyed her whole heart's homage to
who had stood by her through her double peril.
"I will shake off my sickness, my weakness," said she.
" I will be brave and fear not. Bodney, you thought me
dead. But I shall live ! live for your sake, and for* Bar-
bara's ! The breath of life has been breathed into
me anew. I will arise from this bed, and work with you
on deck. I will make myself a sailor, and go before the
mast. "
"N"o, my darling, "said her proud husband. "You
cannot go before the mast, for every mast is gone already. "
This pleasantry showed to Mrs. Vail, better than any
argument could have done, that her husband was not
disheartened at the situation.
"0 Eodney," said she, "what a great, what a horrible
anxiety this will be to Oliver and Eosa Chantilly ! Poor
Eosa ! She will imagine that we have gone to the bottom
of the sea ! I feel more for her than for myself. "
"I believe," replied Eodney, "that after Gapt Lane
reaches Table Bay, Oliver Chantilly will send that mnaway
back again to find his lost ship."
"Eodney, my husband, how your soul must have ag-
onized ! What a burden of woe you bore ! And yet I
knew nothing of it! I was denied my just right to
share it with you I This is terrible for me to think of I
Let me never again be robbed of my precious privilege to
suffer with you in your trials ! And you, dear Bel, how
good you have been ! ^how heroic ! how kind ! Do you
feel troubled now ? "
" Troubled ? " inquired Jezebel. " Law' my dear lamb.
BREAKING THE ITEWS. 4:5
no ; troubles am sich troublesome tings dat I gib 'em all
into de Lord's hands. What's de good book say ? * Cast
all your care upon Him, for he careth for you.' "
*^ Aunt Bel, " asked Mary, " how long do you think we
shall be drifting about before we are picked up ? "
'^ How long ?" inquired Bel. '^Why, what's de good
book say ? It says ^ How long, God, how long ? ' Dat's
how long it will be. "
^* Dear Bel," asked Mary, ^^ what do you mean ?" for
Bel now assumed the weird manner that sometimes took
such strange possession of her. *^ Are you speaking in rid-
dles ? Have you something to say and yefc fear to say it ?
Speak ; I can bear anything everything ; keep nothing
back ; let me know all. "
Bel had a spiritual freight on her mind, of which she
wished to disburden herself, yet felt a solicitude against de-
pressing the tender invalid ; but Eodney, whose approving
glance the old sybil sought before uttering her oracles,
seemed to invite the fullest confession ; whereupon Jeze-
bel spoke in the following singular strain :
"Missis, " said she, "my boy Pefce, he come to me, and
says, ' Mammy, obey de spirit ob de Lord. ' Now, Massa
Vail, what's de good book say ? ^ Arise, and take de
young chile and flee into Egyp'. ' But how are we agwine
to flee into Egyp' ? Dere ain't no Egyp' in dis place to flee
into. What nex' does de good book say ? ^ Go lead de
chillen ob Israel into de Desert. ' But dere ain't no desert
hereabouts for to git into. Now, Massa Vail, if dere ain't
no Egyp, and if dere ain't no desert, how den are we
agwine to obey de good book ? Well, my boy Pete, he
says, ' Mammy, de spirit ob de Lord, de same spirit what
led de young chile into Egyp', and what led de chillen ob
Israel into de desert dat same spirit is agwine to lead dis
young lambkin roun' de sea yes, roun' and roun' de great
deep. Dat's de Egyp, dat's de desert, which de spirit c'
46 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
de Lord is agwine to lead de young chile into. De great
Shepherd ob de flock is agwine to lead de little white lamb-
kin tru de green pastures ob de big sea tru de still waters
ob de great deep. Massa Vail, what blows dis yer ship
about ? It is de Lord's breff it is de spirit ob His mouth.
But why does de Lord blow dis great ship roun' and roun',
over de waves and tru de storms ? Well, Pete, he says,
' Mammy, dat's for to keep de young chile unspotted ob
de world. ' Don't you see, Massa Vail ? Why can't dis
ship go straight to de green and beautiful Ian' ? Because
de young chile can't go into de world and keep clear ob de
spots. So den to keep dis yer little one white and pur6,
de spirit ob de Lord blows like a mighty wind on dis yer
ship, and totes de lambkin into de midst ob de sea, far
away from de shore, so as to keep dis little one safe from
de world. Dat's it, Massa Vail. It's to keep de young
chile pure and white ! What's de good book say ? pure
as de upright in heart, and white as dat light which de
Twelve 'Ciples saw in de Mount of Transmigration. "
" Well, Jezebel," inquired Rodney, with smiling incre-
dulity, '^how many days does Pete condemn us to wander
over these waves ? "
^* Pete ? " replied Jezebel. ^' It ain't Pete. It's de spirit
ob de Lord. What's de good book say ? ^ Tarry till I
come ! ' Yes, Massa Vail, our times are in His hands. Folks
can't never hurry de Lord ! "
At the end of this colloquy. Dr. Vail went on deck.
" Sail ho ! " he exclaimed, discovering with wild joy a
white speck on the distant horizon.
Eushing immediately down stairs, he announced the
cheering intelligence to Mary. -
'^ We are saved ! " said he, and his face beamed with
light.
Taking his telescope, he went back to reconnoitre the
approaching hope.
BKEAKIKa THE NEWS. 47
*' Yes/' said he, adjusting the lens to his eyes, *^ no mis-
take. Hull down. Two topsails above the horizon. Star-
board tack, and heading this way. A ship ? no, only
two masts : a brig. A full hour yet till sunset. She will
reach us before dark. I wonder if the Coromandel can be
seen^ from the brig ? I will set an extra signal to catch
her eye."
Rodney ran to a state-room, and, stripping one of the
beds of its white linen, carried the sheets to the deck, fixed
them to a mop handle, rolled an empty cask to the top of
the binnacle, and, standing on the cask's head, swung his
white emblem to and fro with both hands.
Slowly but steadily the strange brig pursued her course
toward the Coromandel !
Taking h^mmer and nails. Dr. Vail fastened his flag-
staff to the binnacle in order to keep his signal in perma-
nent sight.
He was in a fine delirium of pleasure.
*' It is worth suffering the agony of despair," said he,
"for the sake of enjoying the luxury of hope."
Lifting his glass again to his eyes to feast on the sight
of the white- winged angel that was coming toward him
with relief, he exclaimed with a sudden tremor in his
voice,
" Merciful heaven ! the brig has tacked about, and is
going off, leaving me behind !"
A wild emotion, compounded half of anger and half of
agony, went boiling through his blood like a stream of
quicksilver.
" Ship ahoy !" he cried, not stopping to think that his
voice could not reach a hundredth part of the distance to
the traant craft.
**Ship ahoy !'' he repeated, tearing off the mop-handle
from its iron fastenings, and waving violently his flag of
distress.
48 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
" Ship ahoy ! ^' he screamed, and his cry pierced the
deck to the cabin, and entered Mary's listening ears.
" Hark ! My husband's voice ! " said she ; 'Hhe strange
ship must be now within hailing distance.'^
" Bel, please dress me. I think I am able to walk. Let
me go up stairs."
" No, dear lamb," replied her watchful shepherdess.
"When de Tostles was in prison, and de jailer swung
open de gate, did dey git up and go out ? No. Dey said,
' Let 'em come and fetch us out.'"
" Ship ahoy ! " Rodney still cried on deck, and the
shrieking voice filled the cabin with louder and hoarser
sounds.
"Ain't no use o' shoutin' like dat," remarked Jezebel,
quietly, " What's de good book say ? ^ Havin' ears to
hear, dey hear not.' So dere ain't no use o' shoutin'.' ^
Then Eodney came tearing down stairs, bursting into
the captain's state-room and out again in a moment, bear-
ing with him a rifle and ammunition, with which he has-
tened back to the deck, where, loading his piece, he fired
it as a signal gun.
He did it once ^twice thrice.
But the mimic thunder of the discharges seemed hardly
louder than a sea-bird's scream.
The departing brig made no answer, and went lessening
into the east, while the setting sun went broadening into
the west.
"Night is coming on," exclaimed Rodney, "and the
brig is still going away. 0, how shall I call her back
through the darkness ? I must light a torch."
Bolting again with hot haste into the cabin, he seized a
bed-quilt, carried it up stairs, rammed it like a wad into a
big iron kettle, poured upon it the contents of a case of
olive oil, and set it burning like a Greek lamp.
" Massa Vail," exclaimed Jezebel, who made her clumsy
BREAKING THE ITEWS.
49
way to the deck, to see what was the matter, " what makes
you look so wild and pale ? "
*^Bel," he cried, with anguish, *^that vessel yonder is
going away from us, and here comes a night-fog shut-
ting us in with thick weather, so that even this flam-
ing light cannot be seen half a mile away. Another hope
is quenched ! ** and he beat his breast with his right hand,
as if helping his heart to break.
^^Lawks-a-massy," said Jezebel, *'Ihear dat baby a-cry-
in' in de cabin," and she immediately hastened back to
her domestic quarters, murmuring as she went, " What's
de good book say ? ^ A little chile shall lead dem,' So
ole Bel must foUer after de lambkin. *'
Thick darkness, heavy with fog, then fell on the sea.
The burning flambeau cast a flickering glare round the
deck and out a little way on the waters. Dim, damp,
and lurid was the illumination, just enough to make
darkness visible.
Flocks of night-birds, attracted by the light, came from
far and near, and flew back and forth through the lumi-
nous space, sometimes almost dipping their wings into the
fire itself.
Beaver, awe-struck at the vivid scene, and not daring to
bark at the audacious birds, crouched in fear at his mas-
ter's feet.
Rodney Vail, noticing neither the light, nor the birds,
nor the dog, exclaimed,
^* Oliver Ohantilly, my friend ! my friend ! will you
not search for the lost Ooromandel ? The wandering ship
waits for you ! Come and save my little family of casta-
ways 1 '^
CHAPTEK IV.
CLOSER THAN A BROTHEE.
TO receive a pleasant letter in trust for another person,
and to have no right to open it, but to suspect that it
is full of kindness and affection, is to entertain an angel
unawares.
"For Mrs. Mary Vail, care of Mrs. Eosa Chantilly,'' said
the postman, lingering for a moment in the porch of Mr.
Chantilly's house at Cape Town, sheltering himself from
the rain that fell in torrents.
The house fronted on one of the Dutch Canals, and was
shaded by the oaks that bordered those water-courses.
But on this particular morning, no house in the city
needed trees to shade it ; the whole heavens were hung
with black. Moreover a still gloomier^ shadow rested on
Oliver Chantilly's mind.
His anxiety was for Eodney Vail.
The Cape Argus of that morning (which Oliver had just
been reading) contained a distressful account of ravages
by the recent hurricane.
" Eosa," said her husband, " I am disturbed about this
storm."
Eosa was a sunshiny wife, with wide brows, laughing
eyes, a kindly countenance, and a temperament of hope-
fulness that nerved her against all ordinary troubles, and
particularly against all such as were borrowed in advance.
"It will be time enough to worry," she replied, " when
we hear of disaster."
50
CLOSEB THAN* A BROTHEB. 61
(
I suppose/^ said Oliver, ^'that this letter is from the
Wilmerdings ; it has L. W. in the wax. What a beautiful
seal ! Wilmerding is a man of fine taste, and is giving his
daughter all the advantages of travel and society ; I hope
she will be the happier for it. This London post-mark is
dated eleven days after the Coromandel was to sail from
Boston ; and yet the Vails are still at sea."
Oliver Chantilly's newspaper, which had so disturbed
him, contained the following article :
At 5 o'clock yesterday afternoon, an ominous calm set in and
prevailed for three Hours, during which not a leaf stirred on our city
oaks, and the water-sheet of the harbor was like glass.
Table Mountain had been all day wreathed in the familiar fog
that we are accustomed to style the Table Cloth.
Just as the sun went down, the clouds gathered from all quarters
of the sky at once, with rumblings of thunder louder and nearer, and
with wind from the Southeast which, in half an hour, blew a tornado.
The roof of the unfinished Episcopal chapel now building on St.
Vincent street, was wrenched off, and whirled into the- churchyard
with a crash loud enough to wake the dead.
The scaffolding used in repairing the government buildings was
crumpled like a house of cards.
The suburban residence of Sir Richard Wilkinson suffered the
partial destruction of his costly conservatory, the glass panes of
which were broken as if struck with a hundred hammers.
Simultaneously with the tornado came the rain. Capt. Scarborough,
our oldest hydrographer, says that for forty-seven years there has
been no rainfall so great within an equal space of time. His rain-
gauge indicated 1| inches in an hour.
Great fears are expressed for incoming ships, one of which is
now overdue, namely, the Coromandel, of Boston, Capt. Lane.
'^Eosa," said Oliver, throwing aside his journal, "the
Coromandel inust have been in this storm. Her time is up.
"What if she " but he dismissed the distressing thought.
" They who foresee calamities,^' suggested Eosa, " suffer
them twice.'' ,
Just then, dashing into the room, and holding up a
52 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
cage with a squirrel in it, came Master Philip Ohantilly, a
young American of seven years, the sole child of his
father and mother.
''Look, mother," said the boy, ''the rain has got into
Juju's cage. It has wet Juju's fur. Juju looks like a
drowned rat. Poor Juju ! "
Philip was a black-eyed lad, looking like his father, but
with softer hair and a more intellectual cast of face. He
was sometimes called King Philip, after his favorite
American Indian ; but his chief title was Prince.
"If that ship is coming,*' said the boy, " why don't she
come ? "
To childhood, all hopes are plausible, and all wishes
possible.
"If she don't come," he added, "I shall get Capt. Scar-
borough's spy-glass and draw her here."
As the boy had noticed how a lens brought distant ob-
jects near, he thought this an admirable instrument for
bringing the Coromandel into port.
"Rosa," said Oliver, "I must go and have a talk with
Capt. Scarborough about this storm."
" Let me go, too I " petitioned King Philip, with a royal
plea which was granted on the spot.
Wherever the sire went, the son went also ; and so
together they sallied forth into the deluge.
Oliver Chantilly was a hale and hearty young man, hard-
ly turned of thirty ; with dark eyes, bushy hair, heavy
moustache, a manly and fine-looking face ; and with the
figure and air of one born to command.
Associated in some business enterprises with Sir Eichard
Wilkinson, who had made the contracts for the public
works, the young American had prospered in his fortunes,
had formed a large circle of acquaintances, and had become
a general favorite.
The two rain-pelted travelers, after trudging a quarter of
CLOSER THAK A BROTHER. 53
a mile (Prince Philip choosing the wettest parts of the
street) entered an antique shop that bore this sign over the
door- way :
Capt. John* Scarborough,
Charts and Nautical Instruments.
''Captain/' said Oliver Chantilly, ''you know I expect
the Cormandel. The question is, Has she been struck by
this tiger's paw ? What think you ? ''
" You see," responded Scarborough, " though the ship's
new, yet the captain hain't Hay One. There was halways
a crook in that Lane. If not wicious, weak. Some ships
*ave to be their own captains. Lane ? *E's a silk-'a^ sailor ;
give me the reg'lar tarpauKn kind brought hup from the
foc'sl."
The old hydrographer was variously called Scarborough,
Scawberry, and Scaw.
He was ^n eccentric, opinionated, kindly curmudgeon,
past three-score years, possessing a gigantic physique which
time had not shaken, a comely white head full of experi-
ence and egotism, and a tongue on whose tip dwelt a scor-
pion.
It was his chronic habit to swing a rod* of criticism
over seafaring men who made mistakes in their art ; and
he would snap at an English admiral with the same biting
teeth with which he would grip a stupid stevedore.
The old salts in Cape Town used to say that when
the instrument- vender had a civil' tongue, he was Scar-
borough ; when he fell away a point or two from decor-
ous speech, he was Scawberry ; and when the wind of his
wrath was high enough to set the damnations flying, he
was Scaw.
The hydrographer's variable name was thus a moral ba-
rometer to show the weather-gauge of his temper.
But the irascible Capt. Scarborough had never been
54 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
known to be in a huff with his EoyaJ Highness, King
Philip, who had just been putting his mischievous fingers
into a glue-pot, and was otherwise showing a meddlesome-
ness which the grandfatherly captain egged on and en-
joyed.
" May I look at this sexton ?" asked Philip, who gaye a
too ecclesiastical name to a sextant.
^^Yes, my young hadmiral," replied old Nautilus,
''there never was a boy but what liked a wessel, nor hever
a clever lad but what wanted to be a sailor. Polks said to
me when I was young, boys will be boys ; but I say to folks
now, boys will be men. And this boy will be hevery hinch
a man eh, Prince ? ^^
Philip was thereupon caught up in the old gentleman's
tremendous hands, tossed into the air, and waved about,
not like a prince, but like a prince's-feather.
Capt. Scaw., with many winks, then mysteriously pro-
posed that his tobacco pipe and wallet, togethei'with half a
crown of silver money, should be given to Oliver Chantilly,
the father, for the purchase of Master Philip Chantilly,
the son, in fee simple, and that the purchased boy should
thereupon be transferred from his father to be the prop-
erty of John Scarborough, his heirs, and assigns albeit the
aforesaid old gentleman had no heirs and few assigns.
"!N"o," replied the boy, addressing the two men sepa-
rately, "I will have you for my father, and you for my
grandfather."
" That decision," said old Scaw, " is better than Solo-
mon's cuttin' of the babby in two.''
Every morning for nearly a week, Oliver, accompanied
by Philip, made a similar call on John Scarborough, to
discuss the Coromandel.
On Saturday Oliver Chantilly picked up his newspaper
on his door-step, discovered in it an article which he
dreaded to show to his wife, and, folding the paper and
CL08EB THAN A BEOTHEB. 55
putting it into his pocket, immediately called Philip, and
made still another visit to Capt. Scarborough's shop.
The paper contained the following article :
A distressing shipwreck has occurred within two days' sail of our
harbor. The American ship Coromandel, 418 tons, Capt. C. K: Lane,
bound from Boston to this port, encountered on Tuesday evening last
(Lat S0 59' S., Long. 14 17' E.) the thunder-storm which then swept
over Cape Town with such fearful violence.
The vessel was struck by lightning, and in a few moments was
enveloped in flames. Her burning was so rapid that the passengers
had no time to secure their effects hardly to save their lives. There
is a fearful apprehension that three persons perished, namely Br.
Rodney Vail, his wife, and her nurse all Americans. They were left
behind in the ship, and, having no boat, are supposed to have gone
down with the wreck.
The survivors assert that Capt. Lane was somewhat confused, and
showed the white feather.
The torrents of cold rain, that accompanied the lightning, drenched
the escaping Jijoats* crews and passengers, so that from their exposure,
their insufficient provisions, and their anxieties, they suffered untold
miseries ; until at last, after four days of tempest-tossings, they
reached the Tantalus in the harbor, on board of which they received
a British welcome.
Oliver Chantilly, who had read this statement, entered
the instrument-vender's shop, and found the old man
already in a fierce rage at the same intelligence.
^^ Think o' that ship 'avin* no lightnin'-conductor I
Why was there no ^Arris prewentive ? Criminal careless-
ness, sir. The cat-o-nine is punishment too good too
good. But there's one comfort ; and that is, if any lives
are lost, the losers will know who to, blame for it. That
Lane never toas Hay One. That silk-'a^ sailor I Demmit,
he never was a seaman."
Capt. Scaw's voice went creaking about his shop like a
new shoe on a sanded floor.
** Holiver," continued the hydrographer, ** I'll wager i
66 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
head^ neck^ and hall^ that the Coromandel is afloat at this
minnit."
*^ Where ?show me on this chart/*
" Well, about there. But she's a crawlin' away from
there werry fast. She's a goin' hoff afore the Southeast
Trade wind like a devil's moth before an ^ummin' bird.
Holiver, that wessel ain't gone down : she^s still a woyagin\
That man what's his name ? Wail ? ^well, he will be a
sendm' out bottles from that ship, and some of *em will be
picked hup and reported. Wager you a mug o' hold hale
on it, sir. I will write to my brother, James Scarborough,
in London, and hask 'im to report the case to the Had-
miralty."
Without waiting to go to his own office, Oliver Ohantilly
borrowed Scarborough's suggestion of writing, and, im-.
mediately seizing ^, pen, wrote two letters, one to an ac-
quaintance in t]ie Navy Department at Washington, and
the other to Lawrence Wilmerding in London. '
These two letters were so nearly alike in substance that
one of them will serve here for both :
Cape Town, Oct. 15, 1847.
My DeAB WHiMEEDING :
I make haste to communicate the enclosed distressing intelligence,
cut from The Argus of this morning.
But I don't believe a lying word of the Coromandel's sinking
mark that I
Lane's opinion was mere inference : and, as one man's inference is
as good as another's, mine is that the rain, not the sea, extinguished
the fire.
The captain was a poltroon to abandon his ship instead of cruising
round her to the last.
The Coromandel was jaunty and snug (so Rodney wrote me) meant
for Arctic search, and made strong as an iron-pot.
The Willistons of the Harmony Factory loaded her with a cargo
of their hermetic meats, vegetables, and fruits, in cans and jars, for
our whaling-market here.
So take note of two points : ^first, if the ship has not gone down.
i
CLOSEB THAK A BROTHEE. 57
she is just the water-bucket that could go dancing about the ocean
for a generation without either cracking a timber, or springing a
leak ; and next, that she has provender enough to feed a small
family for a lifetime, and to keep the sea-wolf from ever howling at
their cabin door.
For God's sake, Wilmerding, lay the case at once before the Admi-
ralty, and ask to be informed of any news picked up in bottle or
otherwise.
I have written in a similar strain to the Washington office.
This goes to-day by the Plover, kindness of Capt. Bewick.
By joining the hands of the two governments, we can save a drown-
ing man : the one man of all the world who, in my opinion, is most
fit to live in it.
Distressingly yours,
Oliver Chantilly.
Just as Ohantilty had finished writing his two letters,
in came Lane.
"How are you, Chantilly ?^^ inquired the shipwrecked
mariner.
Lane extended his hand, but Chantilly refused it.
" No," said Oliver, "I decline the honor. The reason?
Well, sir, on board your ship was my best friend. In his
peril you deserted him. So I spurn your acquaintance
I would prefer to know your dog instead. Trained as I
have been to a ship, T can inform you that the quarter-
deck is no place for a coward. Give up seamanship, sir,
and ^raise vegetables. If Vail's life is lost, or if a hair of
his head is harmed, you shall answer for it to me to
*f And to ?we," cried Scarborough, with a voice of thun-
der, lifting his clenched fist as if he would fell the offen-
der to the floor.
Lane, turning white as a sheet, immediately left Scar-
borough's shop.
Chantilly also soon left, accompanied by Philip, who
tiglitly grasped his father's hand.
58 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
So tumultuous was the father's agitation that he hardly
noticed this familiar act of the boy, but moved freely his
other and unclasped hand in active gestures, soliloquizing
as follows :
" No/' said he, " the ship did not go down. She took
fire not from within but from without. It was no
smouldering spark, eating like a worm through the cargo.
Hardly had the passengers got into the boats before the
rain beg^n. They were not half a mile away before they
we^ under a deluge. This they all admit. And then it
never occurred to that coward that deserter that Lane
it never once occurred to him that as lightning could set
a ship on fire, so rain could put the fire out. There was
no time for the blaze to get between the decks. So I say
the rain quenched it. By Heaven, I will make Cape
Town too hot to hold that milksop Lane longer ""than he
can beg a shirt to go home. To think that such a dastard
should pluck his own worthless self like a brand from the
burning, and yet leave one of nature's noblemen like Rod-
ney Vail to roast to death ! But Eodney is not dead ^he
lives ! Rodney, you were my friend 1 Yes, to the ut-
most which that word means. A friend ! Not every man
knows what it is to have a friend ^no, nor what it is to be
a friend. Rodney Vail knew both. How often he and I
talked of friendship and its obligations ! How stren-
uously he maintained it to be a holy tie I an unwritten
oath ! an unsworn marriage of man with man ! What a
friend to his friends was Rodney Vail 1 He would have
made any sacrifice for them any sacrifice for me. I will
be worthy of such a friendship, and reciprocate its obliga-
tions. Rodney Vail is counting at this moment on my
help he is looking for it he is living in it. I will search
for him round the world, if need be, till I find him. God
save my friend ! "
Oliver Chantilly, in his absorbed mood, had now
CLOSER THAIif A BBOTHEB. 59
reached the door-step, when his little son, who had been
perplexed at his father's mutterings, peremptorily in-
quired,
" Papa, what are you talking about ? "
But the answer was interrupted by Mrs. Eosa Chantilly,
who, on opening the door, held up her two hands with
cheerful horror, and exclaimed,
*^ Dear me, Philip, every day when you come back from
Oapt. Scarborough's shop you are besmeared with tar !
No, don't kiss me ; you will stick fast."
Whereupon Philip kissed and re-kissed his mother, till
their two faces did stick fast ^yet not with tar.
But when Mrs. Chantilly was briefly informed by her
husband of the burning of the Coromandel, and of the
arrival of the ship's boats without the two passengers for
whose safety her heart was so full of hope, Eosa stood like
a rose blighted on its stalk.
" Mary Vail ! " she exclaimed, and wrung her hands
in agony. " What an excruciating death ! Come here
Philip, my son " (and she caught him in her arms), " you
shall never go on a ship in all your life no, not even to
re-visit your native land. My dear husband, why did we
ever come to this foreign shore to tempt and lure our
friends to follow us ! ^to lead them unwittingly to such a
dreadful fate ! "
Eosa Chantilly buried her face in her hands, like a sin-
ner confessing guilt.
*^ My sweet Eosa," said her husband, compassionately,
his voice melting into softness at the sight of his wife's
misery, **I am horror-struck as you are, but then," he
added, turning away, clenching his hand, stiffening eveiy
cord of his frame, and speaking with an emphasis that
shook him with its strength from head to foot, ^^ the Cor-
omandel is not lost ! No, it cannot be. In God's name I
forbid it I Pate shall for once yield to justice ! The j
60 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
Almighty Ruler of men is witness to my agony for my
friend, and must give me pity and help. Heaven cannot,
dare not, be brutal to a helpless man. God, I implore,
I command, I swear, that Bodney Vail shall be saved !"
If Oliver Chantilly was half-crazed when he uttered
these excited words, it was because he had been taught
from his childhood that *^ The kingdom of heaven is taken
by violence, and the violent take it by forcie/'
CHAPTER V.
THE NEEDLE IN^ THE HAYSTACK.
ON the day after the excited interview at the instru-
ment-maker's shop, between Lane on the one hand,
and Scarborough and Chantilly on the other, the two latter
addressed to a British public the following note :
To the Editor of the Argus ;
We beg the favor of your columns to state our conviction, first,
that the Goromandel did not sink, but is drifting about the sea ; next,
that her three deserted passengers are alive and may be saved ; and,
finally, that this community owes it to the sentiment of humanity to
organize a search expedition at once.
(Signed) John Scabboeough, Hydrographer.
Oliver Chantilly, Formerly U. S. N.
The above note, signed by so well-known a citizen as
Capt. Scarborough, made a stir in Cape Town, and led
many persons to express a wish that Admiral Gillingham,
Commander of the British frigate Tantalus, Iving in the
harbor, would institute a search for the missing ship. The
Admiral was waited on by a committee with old John
Scarborough at their head, who looked more like an admiral
than the admiral himself. Gillingham politely received
the deputation, but shook his head, and replied that while
he would be happy to co-operate in any and every scheme
having for its object the saving of human life, or the res-
cue of imperiled property, yet he had been sent to Cape
61
^ 62 TEKPEST-TOSSED.
Colony xinder. strict orders to perform a special duty to the
Coast Suryey, and could not weigh anchor to depart from
the letter of his instructions.
" I have already consulted," he said, " Sir Richard Wil-
kinson, and find that Sir Eichard corroborates my yiew."
So the expedition of search ended before it began.
A few weeks after this repulse, Scarborough and Chan-
tilly addressed another joint statement to the public,
which, before it is inserted here, needs a preliminary ex-
planation.
A faith in the Sea Serpent, as in the Flying Dutchman,
animates the breasts of many mariners of all nations.
This faith has the authority of Holy Church to support
it. Good Bishop Pontoppidan of Norway God rest his
soul 1 taught the sailors of that rough coast to believe
solemnly in a mythical creature that goes gliding about in
storm and fog, lifting its head, shooting forth its tongue,
coiling its folds, and dragging its swift length along from
wave to wave.
On other coasts, people who have no faith in bishops be-
lieve in Sea Serpents. The evidence in favor of a serpent
in Paradise has induced a popular credulity concerning a
serpent in the sea. Certain it is, that the Sea Serpent,
year after year, and age after age, sails its mystic rounds
through every sea, harbors in every port, and glides
through every sailor's dreams.
Not to l^ve any shore unvisited, the Sea Serpent, in the
autumn of 1847, curved its swan's neck and flapped its
mermaid's tail in the spacious waters of the Cape of Good
Hope.
A fortnight after the Coromandel's disaster, the Argus
announced the arrival, in Table Bay, of the ship Tocat,
Capt. Demboll, from Liverpool, who reported that, seven
days before reaching Cape Town, he discovered, through a
^omentaiy lifting of a fog, a huge Sea Serpent.
THE NEEDLE IIT THE HAYSTACK. 63
Whereupon the Argus discoursed as follows :
The question. Is there a Sea Serpent ? is revived in Cape Town.
Capt. Macklin, of the British navy, a year ago reported to the Ad-
miralty that he encountered a Sea Serpent oflf Cape Colony coast;
but Prof. Owen thought, from the description, that the monster was
the Great Antarctic Seal. Capt. Samuel Harriman, of the bark Butter-
fly, outward bound from this port eight months ago, discovered,
about a week after sailing, what he thought to be the Sea Serpent ;
but when he approached it with a boat's crew, he found it to be a
mass of rotten weed, slimy and unf ragrant, which the discoverers did
not care to put between the wind and their nobility. Both these sup-
posed Sea Serpents were seen about seven days out from this port. It
is singular that the newly-arrived Capt. DemboU now states that when
he was about the same length of time from Cape Town, he saw a
great creature, which he supposes to have been a mammoth marine
animal, serpentine in form.
Here then we have no less than three Sea Serpents, first, Mack-
lin's; second, Harriman's; and third, Demboll's. But as Macklin's
was long ago thought to be a basking seal, and as Harriman's was
found to be a rotting weed, so Demboll's may now prove to be, if not
one or the other of these, then a floating tree, or a stray raft, or a
mass of debris.
In short, the Sea Serpent is a twin to the Snakes of Iceland, and
does n7t exist.
On the day after the above article was published in the
Argus, that journal contained the subjoined statement from
Chantilly and Scarborough :
To the Editor of the Argus :
Without casting any reflection on the intelligence of Capt. Dem-
boU, we nevertheless believe that the huge and mysterious object
which he saw in Lat. 29 35', Long. 11 21', was not the Sea Serpent
(whatever that creature may be), but was the drifting wreck of the
Coromandel.
Capt. Lane abandoned this ship, containing on board three hu-
man beings, for whose lives (if they shall be lost) he will be justly
responsible.
But not Capt. Lane alone. He will divide the responsibility with
a British Admiral, who, under color of strict adherence to instruc-
64 Tempest-tossed.
tions, is violating the chief duty and function of a true sailor, which
is to strain every nerve, and to run every risk, for the rescue of a
wrecked crew within his reach.
This high officer of the navy admits that, in all human probability,
the Coromandel was not destroyed by the fire ; that her hulk may
therefore wander an indefinite time at sea ; and that she and her
three passengers (one of whom, at least, would make intelligent
exertions to keep the ship from water-logging) are probably, even at
this late day, in nearer neighborhood to this port than to any other
point of land.
We therefore appeal once more to Admiral Gillingham to institute
a search for the wanderers, whose last known position we believe to
have been correctly given by Capt. Demboll, on the mistaken sup-
position that the wrecked Coromandel was a Sea Serpent.
(Signed)
John Scarborough.
Oliver Chantilly.
As soon as the appellants found their appeal without ef-
fect, Oliver Chantilly instituted a series of inquiries among
newly-arrived shipmasters as to whether they had seen,
since the storm, anything that resembled either a Sea Ser-
pent or a wrecked ship.
He also wrote letters to the goyernments of all the mari-
time nations, stating the particulars of the catastrophe,
and requesting to be informed of any messages that might
be picked up from the Coromandel by American, French,
English, or Danish ships.
He studied log-books, maps, and charts. He collected a
library of pamphlets, reports, travels, and various memo-
randa illustrating the winds and currents of the sea, and
searched these and the whole history of shipwrecks for
'suggestions of discovery and rescue.
These efforts cost him many months of anxious thought.
'^I have been marking down on this map,'* said he to
Scarborough one day, ^^the customary routes of ships on
*^^ South Atlantic. These red lines mark the courses
I
\
THE KEEDLE IN THE HAYSTACK. 65
from the Cape of Good Hope to Europe ; and the blue,
the return voyages. These black lines are the routes from
the Cape to the United States ; and the yellow, the return.
These occasional and wayward green lines are the whalers.
Now notice what a great central basin in this South Atlan-
tic ocean what a wide and desolate space here all these
lines utterly shun and never approach. All ships avoid
the centre of this sea. Here in this spacious region lies a
waste wilderness of waters, covering an area as large as the
half of Europe, into which no ship enters unless driven a
thousand miles out of her way. It is a place of calms.
Now suppose the Southeast Trade Wind and the Great
Ocean Current, both acting together, should carry tlie Cor-
omandel into this mid-desert of the South Atlantic, and
should then leave her there ? How would she ever get out ?
What would she do but drift slowly hither and thither,
round and round, like a leaf on a mill-pond ? I tell you,
Scarborough, she might float there year after year like a
water-Tveed, and never be discovered by any ship, and never
get any nearer to the shore."
"Yes," said old Scaw, shaking his head in the negative,
while meaning the aflSrmative, "that's the solemn fact."
Oliver Chantilly, with a strange tenacity of hope, never
once permitted himself to consider the ship destroyed
only cast away on an ocean of calms.
" I see the Coromandel" said he, "afloat in my mind's
eye rolling and drifting ! And I see Eodney Vail on
board of her, appealing to me for help I "
Oliver Chantilly, seeing such visions, which never faded
from his fancy, busied his mind with the Coromandel for
weeks, for months, and for years.
How long, how slow, and how inscrutable can be one
man's fate against the whole world's finding out !
At length Philip, a sedate youth, grew old enough, not^
only to share his father's sorrow for the loss of the Co'
66 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
mandel^ but to be partaker of his day*dream of her final
safety.
The younger Chantilly possessed an ideal and imagina-
tive temperament^ and was just the person to whom the
vision of the far-ofE, tempest-tossed ship, forever wander-
ing over the waves without coming to land, would be full
of allurement and fascination.
The strange life and romantic adventures of the doomed
company, as Philip fashioned the possible story to himself,
were to him more vivid and thrilling than any written tale.
Philip not only caught his father's animating faith in
the ship's survival, but as the son could not naturally feel
so much distressing anxiety as his father did concerning
those on board (since the young man had never seen one
of them), there was nothing but pleasure in Philip's mus-
ings over the wind-blown and never-anchoring barque.
The Coromandel became to the young dreamer a far
more real and heroic ship than any solid man-of-war in
the Coast Survey.
His faith in her final re-appearance amazed his fellow-
students and comrades in Cape Town.
^^ Philip I " said one of them, ^' what you see is the
floating Isle of St. Brandon ; it is a cheat of the mind ; it
does not exist in fact."
But Philip calmly replied,
^^ That castaway ship ^that wandering argosy of souls
is, to me, a Holy Grail to be sought and found. The idea
of seeking for her has determined me to be a sailor, so
that I may spend my life on the sea, in the expectation of
rescuing that wreck. The ocean has haunted me from
childhood, because the Coromandel floats on it."
Years came and passed, yet without tidings of the wan-
dering craft.
" It seems to me," remarked Sir Richard Wilkinson one
day to Oliver Chantilly in the spring of 1854, ^* that you
THE NEEDLE IN THE HAYSTACK. 67
ought now to discharge your mind of this phantom barque
that sails about only in your dreams. Your friends grieve
to see you looking so careworn about it. Eyen if the Oor-
omandel was not whoUy destroyed by fire, yet American
ships are not strong ; and this doomed craft,
*^ * Built in the eclipse, and rigged with curses dark/
must long ago have gone like a plummet to the depths of
the sea. In due time/' he added, ^^ the whole ocean's floor
will be paved with American ships."
Sir Bichard had a very small appreciation of anything
American, except American slavery, and its product, Amer-
ican cotton, from which he received annual dividends
from seven American plantations.
"My dear Sir Eichard," replied Oliver, who always
took pains to maintain his individuality in presence of his
titled associate, " I was brought up in the American navy ;
and in that navy we revere the dying words of a hero who
said, * Don't give up the ship 1' and I don't give up the
Coromandel."
^^Ah," retorted the baronet, who had sat in Parlia-
ment, and who knew how to turn a reply. " That, I be-
lieve, was in the affair of the Chesapeake and the Shannon,
was it not ?*'
" Yes, Sir Richard."
" Captain Lawrence, I think ? "
'^Yes, SirEichard."
" That hero is said to have bravely exclaimed, * Don't
give up the ship ? ' "
"Yes, Sir Richard."
" And yet his ship was immediately given up, notwith-
standing ? was it not ? "
This was unexpected by Chantilly, and it irritated
him : ^all the more because there had been a gradual cool-
ness growing up between Sir Richard and himself on ^
6S TEMPEST-TOSSED.
American qaestions^ particularly on the question of
slavery.
Meanwhile^ Oliver had talked with Rosa about a return
to America ; a project which they were on the point of
carrying into effect.
Then in the summer of 1857, to the sudden surprise of
everybody, came Eosa Chantilly's death.
This lady had been on a sailing excursion, and was the
life of the party ; among whom, for spirit and vivacity,
she reigned supreme ; but, on the next day, a sudden fever
threw her down
" On a couch of fire,"
and in less than a week she died.
To her husband and son, not the falling of the South-
ern Cross from the sky could have been more unexpected.
There are some i)eople so blooming and healthful that
they never suggest a thought of their mortality. Eosa
Chantilly had always been one of these. But she with-
ered while yet full of the morning dews of life.
*^0 God," cried her husband, clenching his hands,
** this is more than I can bear ! "
During the first night after her death, his hair turned
from black to white.
The Bishop of Natal conducted the funeral.
After the body had been laid in the earth, the fresh
mound was entirely covered with roses sweet memorials
of her name ! cast thereon by a company of orphan chil-
dren in whom she had taken a tender interest.
The white-haired husband was led away from the grave-
yard almost in distraction.
During the first three days and nights after the burial,
Oliver Chantilly neither ate nor drank ; neither slept nor
wept I neither read the many letters of sympathy ad-
THE NEEDLE m THE HAYSTACK. 69
dressed to him from families in Cape Town, nor admitted
any person to an interview with him save only Philip.
The bereaved husband spent most of this time in his
wife's deserted room.
Philip, for his father's sake, had to paralyze his own
tongue and make his grief speechless. Not once did he
open the subject for conversation.
The most scalding of all tears are those that flow inward
through the soul, not outward down the cheek.
The silent young man, finding that a mist was filling his
eyes, brushed his brave hand across the wet lids, and said
with a kinglier spirit than Canute's, " Thus far shalt thou
come and no farther ! " and the salt waves obeyed.
Bearing his burden and not groaning under it, bleeding
from his heart's core yet not showing the wound, Philip
stood like a strong tower, and his father fled to him for
refuge against his own distracted self.
The son was a father to his father.
^^ Philip," said Oliver about a fortnight afterward, "this
home is in ruins ; this house is a sepulchre ; this colony has
become once again a strange land. It is impossible for me,
in a moment, to quit so many unfinished tasks as I have set
my ambitious hands to an ambition that now is paralyzed
forever ^but I have told Sir Kichard that I shall take the
first honorable opportunity to disentangle myself and re-
turn to my own country. Events are tending toward a
civil war in the United States. There will be a career for
you in your native land. I propose that you sail for New
York in the Challenge on the 27th (that's three weeks from
now), and, on arriving, go to Annapolis and be entered at
the Naval Academy."
The young man's eyes flashed at the welcome sugges-
tion. *
" It will realize one of my day-dreams ! " he exclaimed.
** It is something like the plan I had formed in my own
10 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
mind only I had not thought of fixing so early a date of
departure^ But the sooner the better."
Father and son struck hands at once^ and the plan was
settled.
0;ie day, about a week afterward, when the English mail
arrived, Philip, on looking at the letters received at his
father's office, discovered one addressed to his mother.
^^Who is it," thought he, ^Hhat writes to her, not
knowing she is dead ? My father must not see this. It
would lacerate his heart.*'
- Philip opened and read the following letter from Lucy
Wilmerding :
j Saltzburg, in the Tyrol.
i April 3, 1858.
Mrs. Rosa Chantoxt:
Dear Madame : You will not expect this letter from a stranger,
and a strange place.
I brought from America three photographs of our dear lost friend
Mrs. Vail. Two of these I still possess. To-day, in putting them
back into my portmanteau, I happened to think that possibly you
might not have any record of her face that lovely face I and so I
take the liberty to divide my treasures with you.
In several of Mrs. Vail's letters to me (0 how long ago they were
written !) she spoke of you most lovingly ; and I am sure, if you
loved her only half so well as I did, this picture of her will bring
tears to your eyes.
She was only seventeen when this was taken. How young she
looks, and how beautiful 1 She had such long, black hair, such per-
fect features, and such a lovely white skin I
My heart to-day has been full of memories of her, aU day long.
The brilliant scenes through which I have been passing in these old
countries, and the daily pleasures I enjoy through my father's
kindness ; all these sometimes take a gloomy shade when I think of
that dear woman and her mysterious fate.
I cannot believe that she is dead, but only shipwrecked and cast
away.
Shall we ever again behold her on earth ?
What sufferings she must have undergone ! what wasting of her
THE NEEDLE IN THE HAYSTACK. 71
frail body I what famine and disease I what agony and anguish of
soul !
Her wan white face comes to me at night, and I see her holding
out her thin^ pale hands imploring me for help.
Sometimes I think of her as a distracted maniac ! dwelling on
some wild rock, alone with beast and bird I At other times I have
felt that by some strange Providence ^by the kind hand of Him who
doeth all things well she wocdd yet be restored to us in the flesh.
Whatever be her fate, I know you will prize the picture for the
sake of the original, whom we both equally mourn.
Yours, in this common grief,
Lucy Wilmeeding.
Philip, after reading this letter, fell to a perusal of the
pictured face,
/^ What a classic and lovely head !" he exclaimed. "It
is fine enough for a cameo. Just think of the sea attempt-
ing to drown such a divine creature 1 "
Philip was quite enraptured with his prize. It was a
small vignette just a head. Over and over again he
looked at it, and being a lover of art and beauty, admired
it as it deserved.
"This young woman,'' he said to himself, "was my
mother's friend. They were school-girls together. One
of them is now in her grave, and perhaps the other dies
daily a liYing death."
Whereupon, actuated by a fancy which, had he under-
taken to explain it, he would have called loyalty to his
mother's memory, he went to a jeweler's, and had the
vignett'e set in a small locket, which he hung like a charm
to his watch-chain.
The whole proceeding pleased him greatly; pleased
him, he hardly knew why ; pleased him so mysteriously
that, in order to maintain this charming sense of mystery,
he kept the letter and locket a secret from his father.
A son rarely tells his heart's secret to his sire.
72 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
The next mail from England brought a letter to John
Scarborough from his twin brother James.
It enclosed a communication sufficiently exciting to
rouse old Scaw to a high pitch of feeling, jind to set his
bushy hair wild with electricity.
He sought out the Chantillys ^to whom, with a Toice
more raspish than ever its harsh music guided by the baton
of his doubled fist ^he made the following harangue :
*^ Demmit/' said he, ^which was the whole extent of the
captain's profanity, ^* demmit, gentlemen, hold men for
counsel, young men for haction. Now, except for its bein'
contrary to the law, 1 would 'ang both Hadmiral Gilling-
ham and Capt. Lane. Bead that, sir.''
The old captain took a seat in a Chinese chair, unbut-
toned his collar, picked up a palm-leaf fan, and fanned
himself into a glowing heat.
^* great God in Heaven ! " exclaimed Oliver Chantilly,
who had meanwhile been reading the letter. " Philip, my
son, read that read it aloud ^let my ears sit in judgment
on my eyes whether or not I have read it aright."
Philip then read aloud the following letter from James
Scarborough to his brother John :
J Gbosyenob Square, London,
1 Aug. 31, 1858.
Mt Dear Brotheb:
I am in hourly expectation of a crash that will ruin me, and will
bring shame to the name 1 bear.
But whatever ill-tidings I report to you concerning myself, I have
a piece of glad news for pou.
When you told me, in your last letter, what would be the greatest
joy that you could experience in your old age, I little thought that I,
who am about to retire into darkness, would be the means of shedding
on you the very sunbeam for which you have so long waited and
waited not in vain.
The enclosed paper will make you a happy man.
Your wretched brother,
James ScABfi0R0UGH
THE NEEXrLE^*ii-XEH:iL:HAYSTACK. 73
^* I do not understand this," replied Philip, sedately, to
Capt. Scarborough. **You have never informed me' of
your brother's troubles. "
Capt. Scarborough, with quivering lip, simply re-
marked,
*^No, Philip ; my brother never told me of them him-
self. I do not understand them. It's hall a puzzle. But
read the postscript."
Philip read as follows :
I annex a copy of a letter from the British consul at Bordeaux to
the Admiralty in London. It was obtained by me to-day through the
politeness of Sir Thomas Poinsett. It will appear in the Times to-
morrow. J. S,
(COPY.)
j Office of the British Consulate
( AT BOKDBAUX, Aiigust ti?, 1858.
To THE Admiealty :
Agreeably to instructions from the Foreign Office to report any
tidings of missing ships and crews, I have the honor to announce that
a square glass jar, with a small neck, hermetically sealed, painted
with vermilion stripes, evidently to attract attention in the water,
and covered with the moss of a long voyage, was picked up yesterday
on this coast near the fishing hamlet of Drosante.
The sealed jar had been opened before I saw it, and opened without
care. The writing inside was illegible in parts, and could not be fully
deciphered till brought out by chemical helps.
The following words and letters were then made distinctly visi-
ble :
Lat.27'' it' S.; Long.! ....
1851 Sunday May 6
Ship Coram ?, 418 tons, Capt, L burnt ojf Gape Colony
Coast Oct 1847 a^ando. ..dby Capt, and Crew, leaving on board
Rodney Vail, Mary Vail, hismfe^ and It. . .Bamley, nurse, all of
S.,.. [here a break] . . .extinguished by rain. Hull not destro. . .Ship
still afloat. Cargo of preserved meats, fruits, and vege . . . . .in good
order. Barbara Vail, bom on board, now aged three years. All well,
and waiting inliope,
{Signed,} Rodney Vail, M. D., aged 2,^,
74 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
In transmitting the above intelligence to the Admiralty, it gives
me great pleasure .to reflect that it is not the customary tale of a ship
about to sink and a crew about to perish.
(Signed,) C. M. Gholmondely, Consul.
The human mind is a strange instrument. One might
suppose that the receipt of this information by Capt. Scar-
borough would have realized to him the joy which he
said the discovery of the Coromandel would give his aged
breast. But, on the contrary, he was now filled with a
half comical rage, through his swelling indignation against
Lane
" Not to be 'ung ?" he cried. " If not 'ung, then, dem-
mit, gentlemen, 'e should be tarred and feathered."
But the welcome news had no such angry effect on the
Chantillys. They were overjoyed. Bosy hopes burst upon
them as with an auroral glory. Happy blood beat in their
pulses. They embraced each other with tears.
*^ This is the first impulse of life which I have had since
your mother died," said Oliver to Philip.
'^ Come with me," cried Scaw ; ^Met us go at once to
Sir Richard's office. I want to flaunt this letter in his
face. I want to taunt him with it* to his teeth."
The three went the Chantillys against their wish ; but
they were drawn forcibly by the irresistible energy of
Scaw.
Sir Richard happened to be closeted in his counting-
room with Capt. Lane and Admiral Gillingham.
*^How is it," asked Oliver of Scaw, just before entering,
*^ how is it that Lane has of late become so familiar with
Sir Richard?" ^
**They 'ave some American business hon 'and," an-
swered Scaw.
A coldness had previously existed between certain mem-
bers of this accidental company, so that an air of formality
THE NEEDLE IN THE HAYSTACK. 75
hung over the interview. That is, except on the part of
Scaw, He was too warm a man by nature to be cold if he
tried. Some people freeze their victims ; others bum
them. " Scaw employed the fire process.
The news contained in the letter had not yet been
divulged.
Capt. Scaw went as hungrily after Lane as a cat goes
after a mouse.
" I want to settle my score ^ith you to-day, hafore you
sail to-morrow. "
** John Scarborough ! " retorted Lane, angrily, " is there
never to be an end to the feud between us ? "
'^ Yes, Lane, hend it now, if you dare."
^'What will end ic?" *
"Capt. Lane," said Scarborough, "it's nigh a dozen
years since the Ooromandel was lost. The witnesses of
the conflagration are scattered over the wide world.
You are the honly one' 'ere now ; and seein' as 'ow nobody
could contradict you, you 'av been a sayin' for these
last three years, hoff an hon, that you saw that wessel
go down ^that she went down before your worry heyes."
"So she did," said Lane, seeking what he thought a
safe refuge in an old lie. ,
" Now, " said Scaw, " hafter 'avin so hoften said it by
word o' mouth, I dare you to settle it beyond dispute by
givin' it to me in your 'and-writin'."
Sir Eichard's face lighted up at this suggestion, and he
inquired of Scarborough,
" Will such a statement satisfy you ? If so, I hope it
may be given. Write it, Capt. Lane, and make oath to it."
Sir Richard wanted this writing for his own particular
use. Such a piece of sworn testimony by Capt. Lane, cer-
tifying as an eye-witness to the sinking of the ship, would
be a perpetual reply to all further appeals to Sir Richard's
pocket for assistance in searching for the Coromandel.
76 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
So the baronet seized the golden opportunity of eliciting
Buch a final statement^ accompanied with Scarborough's
verbal pledge to be satisfied with it.
It was written, signed, and sworn to by Lane.
" Give me that hinstrument/' said Scaw, and he put it
into his pocket.
*' Now, Philip, my lad, my bonny lad, read the con-
sul's letter, and let us see what* these gentlemen will say
now."
Then Philip, to the surprise of Sir Richard, to the
bewilderment of Admiral Gillingham, and to the conster-
nation of Capt. Lane, read the British consul's communi-
cation announcing the Coromandel's safety.
Sir Richard, whose eyes kindled with angry light at
having been taken in his -own snare, asked of Scar-
borough,
"What was the object, sir, of your inducing Capt.
Lane to swear to a statement which you knew to be
false ? "
' " I'll tell you what's the hobject, sir," replied Scaw,
turning from Sir Richard and speaking directly to Lane.
* The hobject is this, sir. You coward, sir " (addressmg
Lane), "if you hever come back to this port again, sir, I
will publish this haflBdavy, sir, and show you to be a self-
confessed liar, sir, hunder your own 'and and seal, sir, and
that's the hobject, sir I Gentlemen, good-day ; demmit,
good-day."
Scarborough, taking the two Chantillys each by the
arm, marshalled them with friendly violence instantly out
of the counting-room.
On getting into the street, old Scaw, puffing like a por-
poise, remarked,
" This town has warious breeds o' wermin' in it ;
but it has one crawlin' reptile to-day what will never be
seen on these streets hafter to-morrow ; and that's Lane ;
THE KEEDLE IK THE HAYSTACK. 77
he'irnever wentare back to this port ^no^ no, never
demmit, no."
It was only after Oapt. Scaw had thus gratified his whim
of yengeance that he found any room in his mind for
pleasant thoughts of the Ooromandel ; but, having suc-
cessfully rid himself of his spleen, he conducted his two
friends to his shop, which he entered out of breath ; and
there, without stopping to rest his aged limbs, he imme-
diately proceeded to dance a laborious and rheumatic jig on
the sanded floor.
This done, a long talk ensued about the Ooromandel
her burning, her safety, her passengers, her wanderings,
her past history, and her possible fate.
Philip spoke in particular of Barbara.
'* What's her hage ? '' asked Scaw.
*^ Three years," interposed Oliver, ^* that is, she was
three years when the paper was written ; but it was written
eight years ago ; that would make her eleven now."
" Bless me," observed Scaw, who was a bachelor, ^* how
children do grow up around us 1 It's but t'other day when
Philip here was a boy. Yet now he's taller than his
father."
Oliver's hand, in which he held the letter of welcome
news, trembled under the weight of the paper that con-
tained it.
** Think," said he, " of a babe born to a family in such '
a Situation I Think of the life they must all live on that
tempest-tossed ship I Think of Rodney Vail wasting hia
fine genius on board that drifting wreck ! Is there no such
thing as Providence, that it can thus permit one of God's
great souls to be the sport of fate and chance, while thou-
sands of common men walk forward on the solid earth, by
green and pleasant paths, to peace, comfort, honor, and old
age ? By Heaven, Philip, if that man's life ever comes to
be known to the world ^if he is saved at last and can re-
78 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
port himself to mankind I believe it will be found t&at on
'his little stage of action on his narrow deck ^in a lonely
sea unhelped except by himself he has played the part
of one of the world's heroes 1 I would give the richest drop
of my heart's blood to grasp him by the hand to-day,
Philip, you and I must find and save that man otherwise
we live in vain."
The astonishing energy with which .Oliver Chantilly ut-
tered these words revealed to Philip the cheering fact that
his father's native (but latterly dormant) spirit was now in
good earnest rekindling its wonted fire.
"I wonder," thought Philip, "what the child looks
like," and he dangled his locket containing her mother's
portrait.
Philip, who had small chance of ever seeing Barbara,
was nevertheless curious about her face. Even blind men,
when they talk of maids, inquire concerning their looks.
'^Perhaps," said Philip, willing to think well of the young
creature, ** perhaps she is like her mother. If so, she is a
beauty."
'* As you say," remarked Scaw to Oliver, " it's a strange
place for the bringin' hup of a young gerril."
" If that child," said Oliver, "is like either of her par-
ents, and especially if she is like both, she is the most pre-
cious pearl the sea ever held."
Philip once again bent down his head and mused.
"She is Neptune's daughter," said Oliver, classi-'
cally.
" Per'aps she is a Wenus," observed Scaw, unclassically.
Philip whispered to himself, '* She is a water-nymph
a nereid a mermaid. No, she is simply a child. And I
think I see her standing in her childish beauty on the
ship's deck, her head crowned with sea-grass, and her hair
blown about in the wind."
Philip kept incessantly dangling the locket, as if asking
THE NEEDLE IN THE HAYSTACK. 79
it for confirmation of the image which he had conjured
up within his mind.
As the most heantif nl faces are those that are never seen,
but only dreamed of, or sighed for, so the young heroine
plihe Goromandel, dwelling at a blue and purple distance,
appeared to Philip the sweetest image of a young maid's
face that ever was enshrined in a young man's soul.
CHAPTER VI.
IN THREE PARTS OF THE WORLD.
THE message thrown overboard in a glass jar from the
Coromandel, and picked up at Drosante, was chronicled
in the London journals of September 1st, 1858.
^^ It is as strange a story as Sindbad the Sailor," said Law-
rence Wilmerding to his daughter Lucy.
*^ 0," said Lucy to herself, a dozen times during the day,
on reading the news over and over again, ^*this happiness
is almost too great to bear ! Dear, dear Mary ! So you
did not go down in the storm ! I knew it I never could
think of you as dead ! And you have a daughter a little
ocean-bird for your motherly wings to brood over in your
wandering nest ! how romantic a tale ! "
On the evening of that day, at a social company in that
city, this interesting intelligence was a theme of animated
talk.
The company consisted of a few ladies and gentlemen
who had met at the invitation of Mr. Wilmerding and his
daughter most of them having ridden for this purpose
into the city from their country retreats (for London was
then out of ^* season") to exchange "congratulations on
the laying of the Atlantic Telegmph Cable.
It was the wire of 1858.
Mr. Wilmerding, a stockholder in that costly enterprise,
had ascertained that a public celebration of the event
80
IN THBEE PARTS OF THE WORLD. 81
would be held in "Seyr York on the night of September
1st, and he determined to re-echo this festivity by a soir6e
on the same night in London.
Lucy Wilmerding's evening company was sure to be a
success. Her father's wealth, her personal attractions,
and, in addition, two noticeable incidents in her career
all taken together combined to give her an uncommon
prestige. These two incidents were : ^first, she had co-
operated, three years before, with a few emilient English-
women, in founding a children's hospital in Surrey ; and
second, on the breaking out of the Crimean war, she had
gone on a mission of mercy to the wounded at Scutari: ;
both which facts, occurring in a young American woman's
life, could not but win for her the love of her English
friends. Lucy Wilmerding had thus become endeared to
a wide circle of people in London, some of whom ranked
high in literature, politics, and society.
It was of these friends that her evening gathering of
September 1st, 1858, in Grosvenor Square, was brilliantly
composed, in honor of the Atlantic Telegraph.
*' And so, my dear Miss Wilmerding," said Sir Thomas
Poinsett of the Admiralty, ^^you have heard from the
missing ship."
" Yes, Sir Thomas, and it is the best news I ever heard
in all my life."
" Does this rekindle your faith that the Coromandel will
at last be rescued, and all well ? "
*^ Yes, Sir Thomas ; is it not reasonable to expect it ? "
*' It seems," he replied, shaking his half -doubtful head,
"it seems like hoping against hope ; and yet if the Coro-
mandel has stood up already so long against destruction,
why not a little longer ? "
"You will admit," said Lucy, "that the ship's safety,
even though marvelous, is not so great a marvel as the
event we celebrate to-night."
82 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
*'True," replied the courtly baronet, " the Greeks, you
know, enumerated seven wonders of the world ; but
there are now seventy times seven thousand, and they are
multiplying every hour ; the last, which we are to-night
commemorating, being the greatest of all/^
^* Sir Thomas," said I^ucy, addressing him with appeal-
ing earnestness, *' now that you have the ocean-telegraph,
I want you to send by it to America the joyful news from
the Ooromandel/*
*^ That news," said he, ** was despatched to Newfound-
land early this morning, before daybreak."
*' And will it certainly reach America ? "
'^ Yes, why not ? " he replied. ^* It was the 312th mes-
sage. 311 had already gone before it all safe and sound.
Why not this one ? "
*^ And in a single moment ?" asked Lucy, with the in-
credulity that pervaded all minds, in those days, concern-
ing the strange submarine tell-tale wire.
" Yes," replied Sir Thomas, ^Mn less than any time at
all 1 Our messages westward outspeed the sun. They go
before they are sent ; they get there before they start.
For instance, the news of the Coromandel, which was
despatched this morning, will reach there yesterday I "
Just then, the venerable Mr. James Scarborough
addressed Lucy, saying,
^* Miss Wilmerding, I hardly know whether to congrat-
ulate you most because the Cable is safe beneath the sea,
or because the Coromandel is safe above it."
*^I am best pleased," said Lucy, *^ with the news from
the long-lost ship ; but the two events are a double bless-
ing, especially as the one has already informed the world
of the other."
When Mr. Scarborough turned away from Lucy, she
was struck with something sorrowful in his face and air.
** Papa," she asked, snatching a moment to speak to
IN THREE PARTS OF THE WORLD. 83
her father, ^^ what is the matter with your friend Mr.
Scarborough yonder ? He seems ill at ease."
" My child, he has little spirit to rejoice to-night either
over the the Cable or the Coromandel, for he has had
some heavy pecuniary losses, and is threatened with
more."
Mr. Buckminister, an English capitalist, was talking at
the opposite end of the room with Mr, Wilmerding :
the topic being neither the ship nor the wire, but Mr.
Scarborough and his losses.
"Is it going hard with him ? " asked Buckminister.
"I fear so," replied Wildmerding, "for he has been
telling me that, in addition to other doubtful speculations,
he is deep in gold mines. Deep, do I say ? No, not very
deep. At least, not so deep as the gold is, for he has not
gone deep enough to find that. James Scarborough means
well, but lacks balance."
"But," interposed Buckminister, inquiringly, "he is
honest ? "
" I hope so," rejoined Wilmerding. " Nearly every man
will pay his debts if he hasHhe money. But James Scar-
borough is hard pressed. He is borrowing from every in-
stitution that will lend ; he is sweeping up every guinea
that he can gather trust-funds and all ; and I fear that
you and I will suffer thfoiigh his folly."
" Look at these faces ! " said Lucy, stepping up to Mr.
Buckminister and handing him two small photographs,
on, of a man, and the other of a woman. Lucy had been
showing these little pictures to her guests. They were
early portraits of Dr. Vail and his bride.
" Well," said Mr. Buckminister, turning to Capt. Gil-
lespie of the British navy, with whom he had just joined
in a scrutiny of the pictured countenances, "it needs
no great gift of discerning human nature to detect at a
glance that one of these ^rsons is sweet and lovely, and
84 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
the other strong and heroic. Let me ask," said he, turning
to Lawrence Wilmerding, ^^what kind of a man was Dr.
Vail when you knew him ? "
" That was in my early days," replied Wilmerding.
" He was the ringleader of us all ^the chief master of all
sports and toils. He was always drawing maps of bridges,
piers, monuments, and various colossal works. He could
throw a fly at a salmon to please a Highlander. He confronted
nature as one confronts the Sphinx, demanding its secrets.
He ale of all the trees of knowledge, defying the prohibi-
tions. He took the sunbeam in one hand, the thunderbolt
in the other, and cast them both into the crucible for
analysis. That is, he was a man of genius ^a philosopher ;
which, to a practical business-man like myself, is perhaps
another way of saying that he was a little crazy."
Gapt. Gillespie, turning to Lucy, said,
"This photograph, I am told, represents the lady while
she was a teacher of yours ?"
"Yes," replied Lucy ; " we called her the little Puritan.
She was not directly descended from the Mayflower, but
had all the fragrance of that word in her character. If
there are saints on earth, she is one of them ; but she was
such a fragile creature, how could she have lived through
shipwreck and storm ? And yet my heart tells me that I
shall see her once more. Oaptain, what is t/our opinion
about the Ooromandel ? "
Gapt. Gillespie replied,
"The probabilities are easily summed up. If the people
on board died from starvation, then the ship, with no one
to work the pumps, gradually became water-logged, and
long ago went to the bottom. But if the provisions have
held out, and if Rodney Vail has preserved his bodily vigor
and his reasoning faculties, he has easily kept the ship
afloat. The cargo was known to be canned provisions.
Such articles were at first an experiment, but they have
IK THREE PARTS OF THE WORLD. 85
since proved a snceess. On the assumption that the pro-
visions have held out, and that the lives of the wanderers
have been preserved and both these are reasonable prob-
abilities I believe we shall hear of the ship's ultimate res-
cue."
Lucy caught the captain's hand and thanked him warmly
for his cheering argument. '
The two photographs, after passing the round of all the
company, were handed back to Lucy.
" There is one picture," said she, ^Hhat I would rather
possess than any of Raphael's cherubs."
" What is that ?" asked Capt. Gillespie.
"It is a picture," said Lucy, " which no artist has had
a chance to paint. I mean the face of Mary VaiPs daugh-
ter, born on board that ill-fated ship the face of Baby Bar-
bara. Child Barbara, Maiden Barbara 1 0, how I long to
see her, for I know she is a sunbeam. She is of no com-
mon parentage ; she must possess no ordinary beauty."
Late in the evening came Mr. Elbridge Saunderson, who
had given many weeks of personal attention to the manu-
facture of the self-acting brakes which had just been suc-
cessfully applied in reeling off the great Cable Into the sea.
" My friend," said he, whispering confidentially to Mr.
Wilmerding, "the news is bad."
"Why, what has happened ?"
" The Atlantic Cable is dead."
"No, it is not possible."
" Yes, the vital spark has left it. This disheartening
report has just come to the Admiralty. Even Sir Thomas
Poinsett has not yet heard of it himself. How strange
that the wire, after conveying 400 signals, more or less
perfectly from shore to shore, and working moderately
well for twenty or thirty days, shoidd at last give up its
life just now, on the very day of the public commemo-
ration in New York ! "
86 TJIMPEST-TOSSED.
A shadow passed over Lawrence Wilmerding's face.
" The Atlantic Cable dead ! " he exclq.imed^ in a hollow
tone^ as if this death had struck him with something of its
own chill.
It had indeed struck him where a capitalist keenly feels
a blow in his pocket.
" Ah," said he to himself,.^* the steel-works, the mining-
stocks, the railroads, the ocean Cable all coming together
how many more such blows can I stand, and not be a
beggar?''
Mr. Sewall, one of the secretaries of the Telegraph Com-
pany, who had just visited the electrician's office in the hope
of receiving from the New York celebrants a congratulatory
message to the London soiree, now entered, and remarked,
'*Ah, Miss Wilmerding, our rejoicing is turned into
gloom ^the object of our congratulations is destroyed."
'* What, the Coromandel ? " cried Lucy, shivering and
turning pale.
" No, the Atlantic Cable," said he.
** 0, is that all ? " she exclaimed. *^ Thank heaven it is
not the ship 1 How you frightened me ! "
Lucy Wilmerding whose mind, like any other true
woman's, took its supreme judgments from her heart
considered the loss of the Atlantic Cable a trifling calamity
compared with the destructipn of the Coromandel. She
thought that science, commerce, civilization, the whole
world's progress all taken together, were not for a mo-
ment to be weighed in the scale with the fate of Mary
Vail.
When a woman's heart rises into her throat and chokes
her with emotion, as Lucy's did ; and when, after her
fright is over, the returning color suffuses her cheeks with
a fresh and strange flush, ^it may make her, for a moment,
almost as beautiful as an angel of heaven.
At least such has been the opinion of men on earth.
IN THBEE PABTS OF THE WOBLD. 87
Anthony Cammeyer, the young loyer who, years before,
had carried violets to this maiden on her sixteenth birth-
day, ought to have been in that drawing-room in Grosvenor
Square and to have seen that face more lovely now in its
womanly ripeness than ever it had been in its girlish
bloom. But did Lucy now any longer think of Anthony
Cammeyer ? Of course she did, for women remember,
though men forget.
Not long after this costly failure of the Atlantic Cable,
came the gloomy forecast of Civil War in the United States.
Americans in foreign lands turned their thoughts toward
their own country. Among these homeward-yearning ex-
iles was Oliver Chantilly. He announced to his friends in
Cape Town his intention to return to the United States,
and they gave him a notable farewell.
Itwasthuschronicledinthe Argus of December 12, 1861 :
Last evening, Corinthian Hall was the scene of a compli-
mentary banquet given to Mr. Oliver Chantilly by a small
number of Cape Colonists who . sympathize with the North.
Mr. Chantilly, the constructor of some of our public works,
was originally trained for the American Navy. And having
received his education at his country's expense, he now feels honor-
ably bound to offer his services to his country's defence. This is re-
gaided as creditable to him even by those of his Colonial friends
whose good wishes go with the Southrons.
Capt. John Scarborough presided at the festive board, and made a
bluff and hearty speech in his well-known eccentric style. He suc-
ceeded by his uncommon quaintness (which is quite unreportable) in
setting the table in a roar particularly at his grotesque references to
Mr. Chantilly and himself as being popularly considered daft and
crack-brained concerning the Coromandel and her safety.
Sir Richard Wilkinspn, the financial director of the .works which
Mr. Chantilly has so successfully earned on, sent to the convivialists
a hearty note, in which he paid a fine tribute, to the personal character
of his American associate ; but the baronet declined to sit at the ban-
quet lest his presence should be misconstrued into showing sym-
pathy for the Northern canse, whereas his hopes are for the triumph
of the Southern Confederacy.
88 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
Mr. Chantilly, who, on rising to speak, was received with cheers,
made the following remarks :
'* My friends ! For ail your kindness, many thanks. 1 do not Imow
how to navigate myself through a public speech. But I know how to
steer a ship I know how to fire a gun. And these are the two things
that I am going home to do. [Cheers. J
** The honored chairman hopes that I can say, in bidding you good-
bye, that my long sojourn among you has been a pleasant one to my-
self. Yes, I can say so with my whole heart. [Hear, hear.] And I
can say also that in whatever part pf the world I may, in future years,
draw my breath, yet always the spirit of my real life or what remains .
of it ^will hover here ; for here I shall ever have what your great
laureate calls,
(t ( fp^YQ handf nls of white dast.
Shut in an urn of brass.*
Pardon me, gentlemen, if I have flung a shadow on your feast.
** And now, as to your chaiiman's merry remark that I am the most
Quixotic man in the Colony except himself [Laughter] well, I con-
fess that I have been called Quixotic, first, as to the Breakwater ; but
I believe that this structure now beats off all criticisms as it does all
storms. [Hear, hear.] Then I was called Quixotic about the Viaduct,
but I believe that this stream of water will be to every man in Cape
Town something which even his own * true love ' has never been ; for
its course will ' run smooth.' [Laughter.] Then I was called Quixotic
on account of the Coromandel ; as if I were a crackbrain for suppos-
ing that one of the toughest ships ever built had not gone to pieces in
one of the mildest oceans in the world. And here let me remind you,
gentlemen, that when you suddenly heard from the ship three years
after the shipwreck, you met me in the streets, *nd protested, every
one of you, that you always expected to see the Coromandel turn up
alive and well. [Laughter.] Once again I am called Quixotic because
I propose to go home to fulfill an obligation to my country's flag.
[Hear, hear.] Sir Richard Wilkinson, whose letter you have read,
fears to be considered a friend of the North ; I hope he may live to
regret that he ever was her enemy. [Voices, * Good ! '] If it be true,
as the rumor runs, that Sir Richard's gratitude to Southern institu-
tions has led him to invest his money in Confederate bonds [Hear,
hear !] ^let me say that if, by happy accident, I should command, as
I hope to do, a Federal gunboat, and if I should meet any^f Sir
^ ^d's Confederate bonds afloat on the high seas in the shape of a
IN THREE PARTS OF THE WORLD. 89
well-equipped Confederate privateer, preying on American commerce
why, gentlemen, I should feel compelled to take Sir Richard's
property without stopping to give him a receipt. [Laughter.]
** Well, my friends, in going away, I simply ask to be kindly rq-
membered after I am gone. [Hear, hear !] When any of you take a
Sunday stroll on the Breakwater, remember me. [Hear, hear !] When,
from the Viaduct, you drink a cup of cold water if any of you should
ever recur to that practice [Laughter] remember me. When the
Coromandel shall be finally found, as I believe she will be [Hear,
hear !] remember me And when the English government shall set-
tle its bill for millions of pounds sterling due to the United States for
Sir Richard*s and other Englishmen's damages to American com-
merce [Voices, * ! I '] then gentlemen, please remember me/*
[Great cheering, during which Mr. Chantilly took his seat.]
On the day after this banquet, Oliver Chantilly sailed
for Ifew York in the Cliiiper ship Pathfinder. During his
voyage he daily searched the sea with liis spy-glass, in
hope to detect the Coromandel drifting somewhere on the
actual waves as she was ever drifting in his visions and
dreams. But the Pathfinder did not find the path of the
Coromandel, nor come within two hundred and fifty leagues
of the wandering and solitary wreck.
Meanwhile, events in the United States grew ominous.
In any nation, a civil war, even before it begins, has al-
ready begun. Early in 1861, the two sections were in a
temper for war. During a few succeeding months, hopes
of peace, like caged doves, still fluttered in many fraternal
breasts, North and South. But at last, one April day, a
rebel gun, pointing at Fort Sumter, " fired the shot heard
round the world. ^' The reverberation brought down
the gathered avalanche of the North. From that flashing
and sulphurous moment, a new era began in American his-
tory.
Midshipman Philip Chantilly, U. S. N., paced the deck
90 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
of the gun-boat Fleetwing, as she lay in Hampton Eoads
by moonlight.
" Why are men born to slay each other ? ^' said he, speak-
ing to himself. ^' What is heaven's use and function for
human life on earth ? " and he stood leaning against a
twelve-inch Parrott-gun, whose iron band showed a silver
ridge under the moon's rays. ^^ God gives life to men,"
said he, " and men rob each other of the precious gift. Am
I, too, one of these robbers of life ? ^these spillers of blood ?
Yes, war is now my trade. But do I hate any of my
, fellow-beings so bitterly that I seek to aim this deadly
engine at their breasts ? Ko. I do not enter into this
war through hatred even of my counfiy's enemies, but
through love of my country's liberty ; for which (if
need be) a million hearts are not too many to bleed and
break*"
" Chantilly," said Midshipman Forsyth, who then joined
him, " have you heard the news ? "
" From where ? ^from what ? " asked Philip.
**Why, from the flag-ship yonder! We are to sail to
Savannah."
^' Good ! " cried Philip, *^ that means work. This
Parrott " (pointing to the twelve-inch gun) ^^ was meant to
scream ; I want to hear the big bird's voice."
^^Tell me," inquired Forsyth, *^when is your father to
arrive ? "
" He will be due the middle of next month."
" Will he re-enter the service ? "
" Yes ; nothing could keep him out of it, except a fail-
ure to get a commission ; but he has already been appointed
to a gun-boat in advance of his arrival, and does not yet
know of his good fortune."
^' Philip, will you go on your father's ship ?"
*^ Yes, if the government so orders."
Midshipman Forsyth theh sauntered off, and left Philip
IN THREE 'PARTS OP THE WORLD. 91
leaning against the gun, and looking out on the silver-
spangled waters of the Eip Baps.
^' To Savannah," said Philip, half -aloud. " That is, to
battle, to opportunity, ^perhaps to distinction, ^possibly
to death. ^ The paths of glory lead but to the grave. ' 'All's
well that ends well.' And if the end is a hillock of green
grass, perhaps that is best of all."
Philip Chantilly, like all idealists, had a sombre side to
his mind ; he was fond, in pensive moments, of courting
some gentle sorrow; he had a habit, in solitude, of feeding on
the pleasure of imaginary pain. But there was one thought
that always aroused him. This was the Coromandel.
** Yonder," said he, surveying the war-fleet in the road-
stead, " are seven ships safely at anchor. Strong chains
hold them ; stout hearts man them ; a tranquil harbor
engirdles them ; no tempest has dismantled them. There
they lie! in peaceful beau ty-^all in the living world not
one of them beyond a half-hour's reach of it. But where,
where i^ that othei ship ? that lone, lost wanderer ?
Where is the Ooromandel's moss-grown hulk to-night ?
What waters, rough or smooth, bear her up at this charmed
hour into this silvery mist ? There is but one ocean roiind
the whole earth, and the Coromandel is on it. That ship
and this gun-boat are afloat on the self -same sheet of water.
Who knows but that the very wave now lapping the side
of the Fleetwing here, has 6nce, in other seas, kissed the
floating cradle of Barbara Vail ? Barbara, sweet spirit
dear, holy maiden ! ^fair unseen idol of my soul's wor-
ship ! I have never looked at your mortal face ; I know
not that you yet live on this earthly globe ; but hence-
forth, whether you.be a creature of flesh and blood, or only
a phantom of my mind, never shall any other maidenly
image take your place in my heart of hearts ! "
Philip was intemipted in his rhapsody by the return of
Forsyth, who exclaimed.
92 TEMPEST-TOSSEd.
"Well, Chantilly, which of the poets were you just
quoting in that fine way ? Come. Let us have another
touch of your declamation. Bepeat."
'* Well," said Philip, adroitly covering his retreat, " do
you mean the verses I was just reciting ? "
"Yes."
" Listen, then, while I repeat a very ancient strain :
'* ' By absence this good means I gain.
That I can catch her
Where none can watch her
In some close corner of my brain :
There I embrace and kiss her,
And so I both enjoy and miss her.' *'
" Who wrote that song ?" asked Forsyth.
" I don't know," replied Philip. " I only know that it
is older than Shakespeare, and sweeter than life."
Philip Chantilly's expressions were rhetorically extrava-
gant, when his thoughts were of Bai1)ara Vail.
CHAPTER VII.
ADBIFT.
IP an empty water-cask, sealed tight, had been thrown
overboard from the Ooromandel at the time and place
of Rodney Vail's shipwreck off Cape Town in 1847, it
would immediately, have become the sport of the Trade
Wind and the Great Ocean Current. Under the double
spell of these two forces, it would have drifted westward
till they had exhausted their joint energies upon it, leav-
ing it lodged somewhere in the middle of the South
Atlantic. Here, wandering in a perpetual circle, it may
have lazily floated for years, perhaps even to this day,
growing green with fungus and bearded with grass.
The Coromandel's own dingy hulk was only a statelier
water-cask, set adrift on the same sea, obeying the same
law, and creeping to the same fate.
Oliver Chantilly was right in his conjecture that the
wandering bark, once entering this mid-ocean of quietude,
where few storms ever blow, and where no ships ever sail,
might there float becalmed for a generation without hope
of escape, nor come within a thousand miles of either con-
tinental shore. *
A shipmaster who sails between Boston and the Cape
of Good Hope may make twenty voyages to and fro, and
while he is between the Equator and the 29th parallel of
93
94 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
South latitude^ may never once hear the wind whistle in
his rigging. The well-known tranquillity of the commer-
cial and navigable part of this ocean is still further chas-
tened and ^bdued in the unfrequented region where the
Coromandel lay adrift.
It is the region known to sailors as the Calms of Capri-
corn. It is the quietest water-sheet in the salty world; It
is the true Pacific, and should have been so named. Its
winds are perpetual whispers. Its waves are halcyon. Its
climate is a summer of twelve months.
This phenomenal sea ^this boundless glassy mirror ^has
its geographical centre at the crossing of longitude 14 E.
with latitude 2T S. Bound this centre, and within a cir-
cumference large enough to include France and Spain,
the Coromandel drifted for years a solitary voyager on
an ocean shadowed by no ship's canvas save her own tat-
tered rags in the summer sun. Here the tough wreck
wandered in tedious safety, at a perpetual distance of hun-
dreds of leagues from the highways of commerce,, and
from the eyes of men.
^^The old ship," said the lonely captain to himself in a
mood of bitter reflection, " is in a fool's-paradise ; for in
these Calms of Capriconi without sails, without engines
without galley-oars without any means to force our
escape she may lie here till her hulk rots."
Dr. Vail, having cast this horoscope of isolation, soon
discovered that his dismal prophecy was making a slow
march to fulfillment.
The ship, that could not obey her master's helm,
faithfully followed his chart : ^the shadowy chart on
which he had thus darkly outlined her fate. Long
and lone were her wanderings over her blue and solitary
domain. Monotonous and unending was her aimless
yet unperilous voyage. Blind, groping, and stagger-
^ like a bewildered sleep-walker risen in the night.
ADRIFT. 95
the Coromaridel pursued her idle, drowsy way round
and round, in and out, up and down, through and
across the most lonely ocean that rolls within habitable
zones.
" Ah 1 " exclaimed Dr. V^il, one starlit evening, while
pacing the deck alone, ^* What tale or history has ever
chronicled a fate like ours ! Think of this ship an un-
wrecked wreck weather-beaten by perpetual calms fast
anchored over soundless depths stranded a thousand
leagues from shore ! Whither, whither, does mocking
Fate waft her evermore astray ? Are these the waters of
Oblivion ? Nay, they are rather the meeting floods of all
memories fi'om whose depths each wave is ever casting
up past thoughts into the unforgetful soul. that the
great dome above me might open, and let me in ! Here
do I waste my heart, my hope, my life ! Here, standing
amid this boundlessness, captive without a yoke, fettered
without a chain, I am become a bond-slave to liberty itself.
Why, why am I exiled from the busy world ! for the
stormy rocks to-night, where some companionable light-
house shines ! for the perils of the fisherman's bleak
yet inhabited coast ! for shipwreck indeed, if only it
would discover to us a sight of land, and cast us where
men dwell ! '^
Meanwhile, had not the Coromandel's cargo been com-
posed of provisions, and had not these been skilKuUy adapted
for permanent preservation, the hapless little company
must soon have starved. But, richer than gold or gems^
the treasure with which their argosy was laden was food to
eat : ^food originally designed to stock a whaling-fleet for
three years, and therefore enough to last a little family for
a lifetime.
Rodney Vail frequently reasoned with himself as to the
probable fate of his little flock.
*^ In weighing our chances," said he, *Hhe chief problem
96 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
is our larder, and how long it will last. My anxiety is not
as to its quantity, for we have a superabundance enough
and to spare ; indeed, we could give liberally to the poor,
if they could only come to our door to beg ; but the ques-
tion is, are our provisions so well packed and sealed as to
fortify them in their cans against the increeping of
mildew and mold ? They are sufficient against the teeth
of hunger, but are they proof against the tooth of
time ? "
Dr. Vail had long ago indeed, shortly after the ship-
wreckcompiled from the bills of lading a catalogue of
the ship's cargo of provisions : showing at a glance his
store of preserved meats, poultry, game, vegetables, fish,
oysters, essences of soup, natural fruits in syrup, catsup,
sauces, et cetera : amounting altogether to sixty^-five tons
of choice, compact, and permanent provisions sealed in
cans, jars, glass vases, and metal boxes of various sizes and
foims.
The daily allowance of food which Nature dictates to a
heathy and active man is two-and-a-half or three pounds
of solids, and threp pints of liquids.
Counting the Coromandel's company, including the dog,
as four men, and giving to each the largest allowance,
namely, three pounds of solid food per day, this would
show the following rate of consumption :
One person, one day 3 pounds.
Four persons/* ** 13
One person one year 1095
Four persons " ** ...* 4380
Estimating in round numbers that the four hungry
mouths which were to be fed on the Coromandel required
five thousand pounds of solid food a year, then, as the
ship's cargo contained a hundred and thirty-five thousand
ADEIFT. 97
pounds, there would be a liberal supply for twenty-six
years.*
* The following is an exact copy of Dr. Vairs complete Bchednle :
SUHMABT OF CaBOO OF PbOTISIONS
'Shipped from Harmony FacU/ry by Williston Brothers per Ooromaindel to
Cape Town.
Meats.
' Beef 250 dozen ^ ponnd cans, total 7,500 ponnds.
" 140 " U " " " 2,630 "
" , BOO " 1 " " " 6,000 "
Beefdlamode 100 " 2 " " " 2,400 "
Mntton 85 " U " " " 1,530 "
Assorted 125 ' 1 " " " 1,500 "
Total 21,450 "
Poultry and Game.
Chicken 100 dozen 2 ponnd cans, total 2,400 ponnds.
Duck 75 " 2i " " " 2,250 "
Goose 50 " 2 " " " 1,200 "
Turkey 85 " 2* " " " 2,550 "
Grouse 25 " 1 i' " " 300 *
Total 8,700
c
Vegetables,
Asparagus 150 dozen 3 pound cans, total 5,400 ponnds.
GreenCom 300 " 2 " " " 7,250 "
Beans, String 100 " 2 " " " 2,400 "
" Lima 100 " 2 " " " 2,400 "
" Refugee..., 100 " 2 " " " 2,400 "
Green Peas, Bogert 100 " li " " " 1,800 "
" " Nonpareil 100 " U " " *' 1,800 "
Potatoes 250 " 2J '* " " 7,500 "
Turnips 100 " 2^ ' " " 1,200 "
Carrots 100 " 1 " " " 1,200
Beats 100 " 1 " " " 1,200 "
Saco Succotash 200 " 8 " " " 7,200 "
Total 41,700
tc
Fish.
Salmon 70 dozen 2\ ponnd cans, total 2,100 pounds.
SpicedSahnon 140 " 2 " " " 8,360 "
Mackerel 250 " 2 " " " 6,000 "
Total 11,460
((
98 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
"This," exclaimed Rodney Vail, with a grim humor,
"is stock and store for a longer voyage than I hope we
have undertaken ! '*
Shell Fish.
Lobster 150 dozen 2 ponnd cans, total 8,600 pounds.
Little Neck Clams 100 ' 2^ " " " 3,000 "
Oystere 300 " 2 " " " 7,300 "
11 o'clock spiced Oysters.... 10 " 2i " " " 800
Pickled Oysters 60 " quart
Total 14,100 "
Soups.
Beef Soap 100 dozen 2^ pound cans, total 3,000 pounds.
Jalicn Soup 100
Tomato Soup 250
Vegetable Soup . 200
Oxtail Soup 25
Natural Fruits in Syrup.
Bartlett Pears 50 dozen 2 pound jars, total 1,200 pounds.
Apples, Spitzenbefg 140 " U " ** " 2,520
(C
2
(.
It
It
2,400
tt
(
1
ct
it
tt
3,000
tt
((
2
t(
it
tt
4,800
tt
i(
2
t(
t4
tt
*
600
tt
ta]
.18.800
tt
tt
Peaches, White Heath 70 '' U " " " 1,260
" Lady Galilean 70 " 1 " " " 1,260 *'
Plums, Green Gages 25 " 1 " " " 300
Cherries, Ox Hearts... 75 " 2 " " " 1,800 "
Quinces 15 1 " " " 180 "
Cranberries 125 ' 2* ' " " 3,750 "
Pine-apple, Nassau, 40 " 1 " " " 480 "
Kaspberries 150 " 2 " " ' 3,600 "
Blackberries 50 " 1 " " " 600 "
Strawberries 100 " 2 " " " 2,400 "
Total .. 19,650
IHckles.
Gherkins, mixed 3 dozen half-gallon jars.
plain 3 ** " ' "
Chow-chow 2 " pint "
Horse-radish 1 " " " "
Picallilly 1 " " "
Extracts.
Nutmeg 1 dozen bottles.
Cinnamon 1 " "
Almond 1 " "
YAuUla 1 " "
ADEIFT. 99
t
Furthermore, as an important addition to the food which
formed the cargo, Dr. Vail, by skillful handicraft, frequent-
ly caught birds and fish.
So he had no lack of food.
Honey 1 dozen bottles.
Lemon 3 " "
Sundries.
Olives, French T. 5 dozen jars.
" Spanish... 3 " ".
Sardines, Quarter Boxes 10 " boxes.
" Half *' 5 " "
Capers 3 * jars.
Brandy FrvUs.
Peaches 6 dozen jars.
Cherries, French .' 5 * "
Syrups.
Ginger ? 25 dozen bottles.
True Lemon 50 " "
Gorbam *' 85 " "
Lime Jolce 100 " "
Total, 2,600 bottles.
Catsups and Sauces.
Tomato Catsup 20 dozen pints.
Mushroom Catsup 10 " i "
Red Pepper Sauce 5 " ^ "
Green " " 5 " j
Worcestershire" 2 " i"
India Curry 1 ' | "
Total, 189 quarts.
HecapitukUion of tJie. ab(/oe.
Meats, in Cans. 21,450 pounds.
Poultry and game " 8.700 "
Vegetables, " 41,700
Fish, " 1,460 "
Shell Fish, " 14,100 "
Soups, " 13,800 ~"
Natural Fruits, Jars 19,650
Total, 130,860 "
7\)gether with ether articles named in t?ie Schedule, and not estimated by weighi.
Cost
Total cost of the above stock of provisions, as shown by bills
of lading $31,450 00
': '--. '-' -- -:^
, ' " ^ - - ;
100 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
Then as to drink, or the human body's thirsty demand
for its three pints of liquid per day, this was abundantly
satisfied from the bountiful clouds.
" But what," said Bodney, surveying his horn of plenty,
^' what if mold or mildew should invade this precious store, .
like the moth and rust that corrupt other treasures ! "
Dr. Vail reasoned with himself that any particular can
of his meats, if set aside for the experiment, would remain
sound and wholesome for a thousand years, or as long as
the can itself could be kept from the canker of rust.
He was right in this reasoning; for, by the hermetic proc-
ess, the whole art of preserving food for years, possibly
for centuries, is simply the art of protecting the cans ; that
is, so long as these metal or glass coverings can be kept
from corrosion, their nutritious contents can be kept from
decay.
But this perennial preservation of food, though now one
of the simplest of arts, had not thoroughly demonstrated
its practicability in 1847 (when Dr. Vail quitted the known
world), and consequently he was never free from painful
anxiety concerning his stores and their possible spoiling.
Nevertheless, as time wore on, and as each successive
can which he opened proved as fresh and palatable as the
first, he found that, amid all his calamities, he still had
the supreme good fortune to be the perpetual consignee of
an unfailing cargo of wholesome provisions.
"At first," said he, "I prayed that our food would last
as long as our voyage, but now I pray that our voyage may
not last so long as our food."
The Coromandel's shipwrecked company clothed them-
selves with the apparel which they found in the trunks
and portmanteaus of the departed passengers, and in the
chests which the crew had abandoned in the forecastle.
These garments were of every stuff and fibre, from water-
proof oil-skins, pea-jackets, tarpaulins, flannels, felts, and
, * t *
ADEHT. 101
all the shaggy wardrobe of seafaring men, to silks, satins,
velvets, linens, laces, ribbons, and all the gay plumage of
man's companion bird-of-paradise.
Nor was there wanting, amid all the barren dreariness
of the situation, a strange and almost barbaric sense of
luxury ; for the abandoned jewels of many families had
become the accumulated ornaments of one.
The Coromandel's cabin which, when she left Boston-
harbor, was a picture of cosiness and even elegance had
suffered no great sea-change. Built for a warm refuge
against Arctic snows, the solid woodwork was a cool cita-
del against the summer sun. The floor was inlaid with
alternate strips of light and dark wood, configured into a
graceful variety of geometric designs. It was not covered
with a carpet, but strewn here and there with brilliant
Turkish mats purple, scarlet, and orange.
Opening into this general saloon, were eight state-rooms
on each side, with heavy and durable doors, paneled with
bird's-eye maple, shining almost like satin-wood. The ceil-
ing, which was heavily cross-barred with deck-beams, was
slightly frescoed in the interstices, on a ground of blue
enamel ; and the cornices were decorated with gilt mold-
ings, narrow and neat. The mizzen-mast slanted down
through the cabin, and was the most pretentious feature
of the ship's inward splendor ; for it was carved and color-
ed into a representation of the Leaning Tower of Pisa.
Around its base was a sumptuous velvet lounge.
In the after end of the cabin were two small windows,
piercing the stern of the ship, and looking out through
thick plate-glass upon the water. Between these windows
was a ram's-head bracket of black-walnut, solidly carven ;
on which stood, bound with fastenings, a heavy brown
terra-cotta flower-pot, with a large geranium the only bit
of- vegetation which the ship contained. Lengthwise through
the cabin stood a long mahogany table ; long, that
102 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
originally ; though it had afterward been taken apart and
shortened so as to give more space for walking round it.
Across the forward end of this table, and just under a sky-
light in the deck, stood a piano a small upright instru-
ment of the old-fashioned Erard type, with slender Co-
rinthian pillars, and with brass candlesticks.
Prom the forward end of the cabin, and leading up to
the deck, was a stair- way, the steps of which were plated
with brass. On the underside of this stair-way was a re.
treating, triangular closet, containing the forty or fifty
volumes of the ship's library. Adjoining this closet was a
writing-desk, at which Rodney Vail habitually wrote his
log and journal. On either side of the stair-way was a
small Jiorizontal panel, in one of which had been painted,
with some attempt at fine finish (at least of fine polish), a
highly colored representation of the May-Flower anchored
at Plymouth, and in the other, as a companion piece,
Washington's tomb at Mount Vernon.
In strange contrast with the cheeriness of the cabin
was the grimness of the deck. The ship's exterior every-
where showed traces of fire and wreck ; here a patch of
positive charcoal ^there a strip of scorched timber, burnt
not quite black ; here a dinted bruise in the deck where a
fallen spar had struck it there the peeling off of the
paint, showing the grain of the wood, even through the
successive coatings of fish-oil which Dr. Vail had subse-
quently put on it, to preserve it from the weather ; here
a rickety jury-mast, with its thin and worn sail seldom
hoisted there the fire-stained binnacle, bruised and
blackened, and surmounted in calm weather by a pictur-
esque awning, not of canvas, but of flannel sewed in
alternate strips of red and blue.
This was an unusual fabric for a weather-screen, but the
material happened to be on board the ship ; for in 1846-7
Tiiig]i woolens were so scarce and dear that American
ADEIFT. 103
mill-owners, who manufactured similar goods, though of
cheaper grades, seized their opportunity to send their
wares to English Colonial markets. Accordingly a num-
ber of bales of flannels, blue and red, were shipped on the
Ooromandel consigned to a merchant in Cape Town. As
Dr. Vail had no need of this material for garments, he
used it for awnings, and also (in narrow strips) for fish-,
nets and bird-traps.
Within this wandering ship, far away from land, drift-
ing year after year at the languid caprice of idle winds and
waves, dwelt a little family remote from all human com-
panionship save only what they could give to each other ;
and one of whom had never seen any human beings, save
only her father, her mother, her nurse, and her own girlish
face in a glass.
Perpetually did these three adults yearn for land, for
green fields, for kindred and friends, for privileges and
opportunities, ^in a word, for the comforts and kindly
associations of the life which they had once lived ; and
from which they had been excluded so long that they
began to fear they should enter it nevermore.
But the child Barbara,
'* Native here and to the maimer bom,"
lived in the ship as naturally as other children live in a
house ; running about tKe deck, as others about a lawn ;
familiar with the ocean as others with the land.
Was this ever busy, prattling, chattering child the vic-
tim of an unhappy fate ? If so, the blue-eyed innocent
herself did not know it. Was she not a thousand times
better oflE than if she had been the State's tenant of an
orphan asylum ? Was not her shipboard life superior in
blessings to the sad, death- struck lives of the wretched
children who toil in mills and mines ? Was she not in a
^ I
104 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
king's palace compared with the wretched hoyels in which
many a fair young sunny head, golden as her own, is
brought up amid squalor and vice ?
Barbara was not a child bom of wretchedness, nor even
nursed of misfortune.
Strong, free, merry-hearted, and knowing no other
life than that which she now lived, she sighed for no
other ; indeed, she sighed for nothing ; she had a healthy
slowness in learning the art even of childish sorrow ; her
eyes, though familiar with waters, were strangers to tears ;
and so she dwelt in her sea-girt home like a very oriole of
the hill-top, singing and swinging in her wind-dangled nest.
Other hearts on the ship were often sluggish and stag-
nant with sadness, but Barbara was a running mountain
brook of ever-bubbling joy.
^^ Mary,'' said Eodney, who felt that their daughter was
the ship's animating soul, ^' we gave to Barbara her life,
but we have received from her our lives in return. With-
out that child to cheer us, we must long ago have grown
pale, wan, and mad. She has been the angel of our
safety."
Dr. Vail did not overstate the child's unconscious in-
fluence ; as, indeed, it would be difficult to overstate the
unconscious influence of any child in any family. Dejec-
tion, ennui, and despair would have blighted the Coro-
mandel's company, save only that there was no escaping
from the enlivening contagion of Barbara's happy spirits.
The gay, lithesome, intense creature who ran over the
ship like a kid over a rock, leaping and climbing, afraid
of nothing and enjoying everything; ^this nymph of
fun and mischief, outdoing the dog Beaver himself in
playful pranks, was the perpetual solace of the sad com-
pany ; and their sorrow was something which the sorrow-
less child was never allowed to guess, and which she was
thus all the more able to cheer.
ADRIFT. 105
She grew apace, waxing in healthy vigor and juyenile
bloom.
Then, in due time, in consequence of Barbara's growth,
her mother, the quondam school-mistress of Salem, re-
. opened her school ^not in a New England school-house
but in an East Indian ship ; wherein, cooped like a
motherly hen with one chick, Barbara's teacher brooded
over her solitary scholar. She gaye her a daily lesson
compounded of books, pens, water-colors and piano.
'* Barbara sings like a wood-thrush," said her father,
listening one day while her clear yoice rang through the
ship.
" Yes," said Mary, " the piano grows out of tune and
falls into discord, but Barbara's yoice ripens into richer
and sweeter tone, and she goes about warbling as if she
were a lost nightingale, singing by day."
Every day, after school hours, came Barbara's habitual
demand for a story ; which, when her mother told it, was
generally a true one consisting sometimes of one of the
many incidents, told over and over again, which she knew
of Lucy Wilmerding, who had been her beloved pupil ; or
sometimes of Philip Chantilly, who was to have been her
daughter's playmate ; or sometimes of Philip's squirrel
Ju ju, a creature that frisked with ideal gambols in Barbara's
mind, and ranked in the animal kingdom second only to
Beaver himself.
The years, like gentle breaths, passed over the ship, but
without wafting her to the shore.
Meanwhile Barbara, like all children, developed with
astonishing rapidity ; at least, so it seemed to her parents ;
for to parents, nothing marks so impressively the flight of
time as.the growth of their children.
^^ Our voyage," said Eodney, one afternoon, as he sat
mending a net, " has been slow and tedious enough, heaven
knows ; and yet look yonder at Barbara ; only yesterday
106 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
she seemed a babe new-bom, and now she is carrying that
great dog in her arms/'
One day, Jezebel, who was always uttering her thoughts
through emblems or figures, walked across the cabin, say-
ing,
"I am lookin' for de lambkin, and can't find her. But
what's de good book say ? ' De lost shall be found.' We
hab lost a lambkin and found a lamb."
The protracted shipwreck now began to fill Mrs. Vail's
mind with motherly anxiety for Barbara's education and
future welfare.
" I dread the time," said she to her husband, ^' when
our daughter will cease to be satisfied with her present cir-
cumscribed state, and will long to enter into that great
realm of human activity which she now is content to see
in her fancies and dreams."
This thought had already stolen like a shadow across
Rodney's mind, and he looked forward with similar dread
to Barbara's realization of her imprisonment.
One breezy morning, while the sea was sparkling with
unusual lustre, Barbara was busy with some silent amuse-
ment, all alone by herself at the ship's bow.
^'My dear husband," said the weary wife, who sat under
the flannel awning (which now had many tatters), " tell
me, for our daughter's sake I do not ask for our own is
there no hope of escape from this captivity ? "
^^ Softly," said Dr. Vail, putting his finger on his lips,
"speak lower Barbara stands yonder, looking over the
ship's side, throwing something overboard ; she must not
hear us utter any murmur or complaint."
"But tell me," said Mary, sinking her voice to a mere
sigh, " do you think we are never to see land ? "
This question shot a pang through Rodney's breast.
" Mary," said he, "liow we have drifted hither is plain
^nough ; how we are kept here is equally plain ; bujb how
1
^
ADRlFt. 107
we are ever to get away from this watery desert, 1 know
not. Day after day, year after year, this mounting ship
keeps climbing up the low hill-tops of these gentle waves,
as if on the look-out for some island of rest, or some vessel
of rescue, only to find none, and to sink back again into
the perpetual sea."
Barbara, the busy maid, lithe, fair-haired, and sun-burnt,
did not overhear this conversation, but happened just then
to be whispering something to her own solitary heart.
^^Go, little ship of glass," said she, looking down at a
small floating object that was glittering in the water,
" cany your message safely, and tell the great world that
I am in it, and am longing to see its beautiful people, es-
pecially Lucy and ! "
" Barbara, what are you doing ? " asked her mother,
calling to her affectionately.
^^0," replied the maiden, "I have been throwing
another little glass jar overboard, with a writing in it, just
as my father does. I am watching to see the little thing
toss about and float away."
'' What did you write ? "
^^ Just something to please myself."
Barbara had a habit, whenever a small fruit-jar was emp-
tied, to freight it with some mysterious words, in her own
r girlish hand-writing some message which she allowed
neither her father nor mother to see ^^and'then to cast the
little message-bearer overboard.
Possibly these enclosures were love-letters, but if they
were, Barbara kept them to herself with young love's se-
crecy, which is shyer than old love's craft.
" Dat's right, my little lamb," said Jezebel to Barbara,
^^^what's de good book say? ^ Cast dy bread upon de waters,
and dou shalt find it after many days/ "
The many days of Jezebel's prophecy then slowly and
wearily passed ; during whicli the lowly-minded sybil con-
108 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
tinned to occupy herself with forgetting Bruno and remem-
bering Pete ; with scolding Beaver and nursing Mrs. Vail ;
with seeing visions and growing old.
One night, at a very late hour, after the ship had rocked
all its other inmates (even the dog) to sleep, Dr. Vail sat at
his writing-desk in the cabin.
His lamp was poorly fed with fish-oil, which he had made
from a porpoise ; and the smoky flame cast a dim light over
his sad, haggard face.
" I can hardly believe this record," said he, ^^nor even
credit my own handwriting. "
He had been making his usual entry in his journal, and
after completing it, had turned the pages backward to the
earlier notes of the voyage.
A painful sense passed through him of his long exile,
which had already lasted through weary years, and which
for aught that he could foresee, might possibly last through
man's mortal span.
"Am I to live all my life on this ship? " he sighed. " Is
my little family to waste here to old age, and die, and be
left to fall to dust in this drifting bark, till she herself
moulders, drops to pieces, and goes down ? Is Barbara
never to see a human face except the sad countenances that
confront her in this prison-house ? Are there more years
and cycles and eternities to come, of this ^watching and
weariness ? How have we all kept ourselves alive ? and yet
we live. How have we all maintained our reason ? and yet
we are sane. When will the end come ? It will never
come I The curse is on us. We are fated. There is no
God!"
In turning over the pages of his journal. Dr. Vail came
at last to an early record which he sought the list of the
ship's stores the long schedule of provisions from the
Harmony Factory.
"Ah, here it is," said he ; " but i have to look back
ADBIFT. 109
through nearly half a generation to find it ! How life
yanishes 1 How time flies ! The very ink has faded and the
paper grown yellow 1 How long this ship has been drifting
since this record was made, and yet she is almost in the
same place now as then I just two degrees of latitude,
and three and a half of longitude, from the very spot where
the trade-wind first left us in the middle of the ocean !
When I penned this catalogue in this book, little did I
think that we were then predestined to gnaw our way with
daily hunger through a thousand solid cans and sealed jars !
Thank heaven, we have not yet come to starvation. No,"
said he, shutting his journal, " that fate is yet afar off !
Not more than two-thirds of this stock have been con-
sumed ^the other third remains. He who hears the young
ravens when they cry will not permit my dear ones to suf-
fer hunger. In the midst of plenty, how can we want ?
Begone, horrible shadows of famine ! Fade, unreal fears,
and let my mind have peace ! '^
The Eoman-faced hero ^who had a more than Eoman
heart a very Spartan spirit closed his journal, and like
the wise physician that he was, who knew how to make
the body's rest minister to the mind's health, gave to him-
self the wholesome medicine of sleep.
Meanwhile the Coromandel, like the water-cask whose
fate she followed, still went drifting through a wilderness
of waters ^pursuing her slow voyage without haste, with-
out rest.
CHAPTEE Vm.
DE. tail's JOXTBNAL.
THE manuscript which Dr. Vail, by the light of his
fish-oil lamp, had just been reading at midnight, was
called by him the Doomsday Book,
It contained the daily latitude, longitude, barometer,
winds, and weather ; desultory memoranda of fishing, bird-
catching, and ship-chandlering ; occasional references to
the domestic life which he and his fellow-hermits lived on
their lonely ship ; and now and then, at wide intervals, a
brief mention of his secret thoughts and feelings ^his hopes,
fears and prayers.
A man of equal sensitiveness and stoicism, he suffered
much, but expressed little. In writing his journal, he
watchfully prevented himself from pinning his heart on
his page with the point of his pen. He not only shrank
from recording, he shrank even from contemplating, his
misery and despair.
His note-book, though it grew thick under his daily-
hand, recorded, as time advanced, fewer and fewer
traces of the more dismal features of the CoromandePs his-
tory : such as the hours of sickness, watching and anguish ;
the scenes of storms, and threatened engulf ment ; the fear
of famine and starvation ; the ominous wildness of mind
that sometimes pervaded the whole company at once, each
communicating the mad contagion to the other ; the hor-
rible impatience that occasionally smote them like a difi-
110
DE. tail's journal. Ill
temper ; the will-o'-the-wisps that lured them often into
hopeless bewilderment, and to the edge and verge of the
soul's extremest woe ; all these features of the real history
were but sparsely noted in the written record.
Dr. Vail's Doomsday Book, therefore, from the omissions
which it intentionally made, gradually became a long record
of unimportant things ; a stupendous volume of trifles ; and
yet, rightly judged, this very triviality was itself full of
pathos, in view of the unending monotone of misery which
the suffering author sought not to record, but only to be-
guile.
Each day's memorandum was generally meagre and terse,
sometimes a paragraph, but usually only a line ; and
indeed the brave record, in hundreds of instances, con-
sisted simply of the date with an added " All's well."
Herewith appended is a collection of particulars from
this slight diary, chosen from hundreds and even thousands
of its entries ; the excerpts marking considerable intervals
of time, and stretching through half a generation of
human life.
ISJtl, Nov 12. Flung overboard, just before sunset, another glass
fruit-jar, with record of our misfortunes. This little privateer, with
its letter of marque, was loath to depart on its mission, but stayed in
sight all through the twilight, until at last it was lost in the same
gloom that surrounds our ship, our souls, and our fate.
Dec, 13, Occasionally I haul back the water-drag, hoist my sail,
and steer before the wind. But to what purpose ? Why head the
ship one way rather than another ? I am hopelessly distant from land
on all sides. Still, Mary's mind is sometimes comforted by seeing the
black hulk whitened with our hand's breadth of canvas ; and Jezebel
holds Barbara close down to the compass, which winks its eye in the
deck, to the little one's delight.
*48y Feb. 6, I have been successfully trying Oazneau's plan of dis-
tilling fresh water from salt.
3Iay 3. Our Baby Barbara has cut another tooth.
JuTie 28, Starboard lantern dashed to pieces by a gull, flying
against it in the night.
112 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
Jidy 11. Tuned the piano, which had rusted in the wires ; and
Mary played Home, Sweet Home.
Attg, 30, I am acting the part of Coleridge's Ancient Mariner,
bnt Jiave no scruples against eating the broiled joint of an albatross.
Oct 15, The air is full of electricity to-night St. Elmo's fire run-
ning round the ship's rail.
iVotj. 26, Built a boat ; the frame of barrel-staves ; the bottom and
sides of sailcloth ; ^it will serve for a dory in mild weather, in case I
need to make a fisherman's excursion a short distance from the ship.
18Ji9t Jan, 9, Been thinking this evening of Oliver Chantilly. Is
he not searching for ns ? Yes ; through storm and calm. But will
he ever find us ?
March 16. Opened a can of asparagus, which Mary calls as good as
the freshest on Pritchard's farm.
June 29, Beaver tore his forefoot against a nail in the forecastle,
chasing a rat.
Oct. 27. A white shark is following ns, as if somebody were about
to die on board.
Nov, 30, My bird-traps have snared nothing for 21 days.
^50y Feb, 11, Thought I saw a ship a small white speck in the
horizon, N. N. W. ; but, after it kindled my blood into a fever, it
vanished ; wherefore I suspect it was a cloud.
June 20, Renewed my canvas boat, which was so badly worn as to
be too risky to use. Frame still good, but canvas rotten. Cut out a
new covering from the ship's spare flying-jibs.
Aug, 6. A storm ! but it rages more fiercely in my soul than in
the sea. the desolation that rules the world at this midnight hour I
Come death rather than this prolonged despair I
Se;pi. 28. Alas ! the Coromandel is now a hospital. All but myself
down with fever. What if I, too, give out?
Bee. 25. Christmas, and no Christmas tree I No green thing on
board save our solitary geranium, growing in its flower-pot in the
cabin I Nor any household chimney for Santa Claus to come down to
Barbara's stockings ! But the little thing had them hung up last
night, and found in them this morning three French treasures, to wit :
a Paris doll, a Noah's ark, and a Harlequin. Madame D'Arblay,
you were a foolish old chatterbox, but you have been a blessing in
adversity to a little family whom you bored dreadfully in their better
days I
*51, Jan. 12, Another laAtem shivered to fragments by the beaka
of night-birds..
DE, tail's journal. 113
April SO, Bain, rain, rain, enough to freshen the salt sea.
Jtvns 6. Planned an improvement for Fairmount Water- Works,
but find a difficulty in submitting the design to the City Council.
'5S, Jan, 7, Barbara has folded a sheet of paper into a tiny book
in imitation of the ship's log, and has made her first entry as follows :
Bevir is gods Dog.'
Ja/n, 13. Dead calm not a ripple. vanishing days and wasting
life I Idleness ^nothingness blankness. How long till oblivion ?
When shall I reach Lethe's wharf, where the fat weeds rot ? There
will I moor my wandering bark forever.
March 27, This morning I found my last lantern shivered into fine
bits by the birds, and the ship now shows no light at nightexcept
through the cabin windows.
May 30, for a little frost, or a Yankee Nor'wester to brace one*s
nerves 1
Dec, 13. Barbara is always begging for a new story, so I asked her
yesterday for a list of those she knew already, and received to-day the
following letter by ocean-mail :
Bbeb Papa
I no All Theaee. little red Ridinghnd Jack the Giantkiller 40 theavs Laddins lamp
gody 2 shris Bnty & Beest pide FiPer Robin sun crnsow paul & viginya Filip an
juju & Thats all I no Barbara.
^53y Jem. 1. Happy New Year I Barbara's busy brain continually
asks for something to do, and so her mother has resolved to begin the
year with a female seminary. As the school-house rolls a little, we
caU it Topsyturvy College.
March 2, A sword-fish angrily stuck his stiletto into a spar of
our water drag, and broke off his fine weapon, leaving it for our cab-
inet of curiosities.
JViw. 20. Whittled for Barbara a Punch-and-Judy, which Mary has
trimmed with red and blue fiannel rags.
'54, Feb. 9, Judging by an imaginary map, I am within 500 miles
of Ferdinand de Norohna.
March 13, Caught with hook and bait my largest albatross, meas-
uring 18 feet from tip to tip of outspread wings.
Ma^/ 27, Our floating hulk is growing mouldy round the water's
edge.
July 13. I would give a gold watch for a lemon.
'55, Sept, 29. Jezebel insists that an occasional ghost glides through
the ship at night.
114 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
*56, April 9. If Barbara dies in this sickness, I shall wrap my
arms about her and sink with her into the sea.
May 21 Busy aU day with my salt works.
Dec, 11, Picked up to-day a broken oar, covered with long grass,
and branded on the blade with the words : " Stockdove, Maker, Ijiv-
erpool, 1805." It may have been half a century in the water I
Probably it became water-logged years ago and sank. Its crop of
buoyant grass then gradually lifted it again to the surface, and kept
it floating in the sunshine. So man's calamities, that first sink the
soul into dark and dismal depths, at last by their own natural growth
buoy him up through the very billows that once rolled over him, and
ever after keep him floating above them in the perpetual light of
heaven.
*57t April 6. If this is time, what is eternity ? Blot out the lying
almanac which reckons a hundred years to a century ! I reckon a
hundred centuries to a year.
May 18. Have been haunted for three days with the thought of
coming in sight of the Peak of Teneriffe.
Aug. 11, Weather so calm that I could see the earth's rotundity.
The glassy ocean sloped visibly down around us on every side. The
ship rested like a fly on the top of the vast and gently rounding ball.
Nov. 4, Fancied the Coromandel had sprung a leak, but the alarm
was occasioned by the bursting of water-tank No. 5, which I tightened
with a new hoop.
'68, Jan, 16, With fear and quaking, Jezebel testifies to seeing the
Lord Christ walking in majesty over these waves.
Feb, 21, Mary has fancifully named the various parts of the ship
to remind her of home : thus, the cabin is Salem ; the itiain deck,
Boston Common ; the jury-mast, Bunker Hill Monument ; and the
binnacle, Grandfather Pritchard's summer-house.
May 6, Caught a dolphin, and shall make oil of him to keep my
cans from rust.
June 7, The red fog has visited us, which makes me surmise
that we are in the neighborhood of the Cape de Verde islands.
Atig, 10, I wear the ring of Gyges, and still remain invisible to
mankind.
*59, May 21, Called all my family to witness a stately column of
cloud, standing like a pillar in the West, its foot on the sea, and all
heaven resting on its head.
July 6, Barbara has written a short and critical sketch of the life
and character of Beaver as follows :
DR. tail's JOXTRKAL. 115
Beaver. Is my dog. Last night God Bet the sky on Fire, and Beaver barked at
him for it. Bosalie my Doll thinks beaver is a brown Elphant. She rides on his
Back withont saying a word, beaver knows the Story of Cinderella. I told it to
him. My pen is poor my ink is pale my hand it shaiks like beavers tail, the End.
Barbara.
Aug, 16. A prize 1 A sea-tnrtle. Weight, 320 lbs.
Oct S, Oliver's son, Philip, by this time, must be pushing him-
self up toward man's estate ; and his father, when I meet him
again, if I ever do in this life, will be middle-aged perhaps an old
man I I realize that my youth is gone I
*QOy Jan, 12, The new experiment with the kelp a perfect success.
April 3. This afternoon an aerolite dropped from the sky, struck
our awning, went through it like a bullet, and^ell on the binnacle. It
is as big as a lark's ^^'g. Query. Did it descend from heaven's
gate ?
Ma/y 11, Oiled the piano wires, to keep off the sea-canker.
Jv/ne 20. Barbara begins to use the microscope. Every day she
searches the ribbon grass for its tiny crustaceans. . She wants them
for their briliant colors. She is as fond as an Indian of rich reds,
greens, and burnished gold. The gayest wardrobe in the world is
worn by these unseen animalculae. Barbara's chief picture-gallery is
her little museum of specimens, fixed on bits of broken glass. I re-
member seeing at Jena some of Goethe's water-color paintings of just
such magnified nothings. The great world is not so wonderful as the
little.
July 25 . Cut out to-day my last piece of spare canvas for reclothing
my dory. After this sheeting rots, I shall have no skiff to launch
for my feathered game. Beaver must do all the work of fetching the
spoils. And he is growing old and stiff.
Aug, 19. On examining my accumulated records of latitude and
longitude, I find that the ship drifts round and round in t^ie same
old way, within her prescribed circumference. There seems no proba-
bility of our escaping out of this slow vortex. I feel condemned to
one perpetual, aimless, hopeless voyage of circumnavigation.
^62^ Jan. IS. Fell asleep this afternoon under the awning, and
dreamed of Mary Pritchard walking to church through Newbury
Lane, with a sprig of sweet-fennel in her hand.
Feif. 27. There is now neither spider nor fly, neither rat nor
mouse on board the ship. She ahes with virtue.
April 2, Barbara, whose sight is keenly trained to open-air obser-
vations, has seen Jupiter's moons with the naked eye.
116 TBMPE8T-T0BSBD.
May SI. Been thinking of the old wh?irf at Salem, and how it
used to be covered with worm- eaten timbers taken out of decayed
ships. The channel which the ship-worm bores (as I remember it) is
big enough to poke your finger in. But I have seen no trace of any
such invasion of the Coromandel. Our ship is copper-sheathed.
This seems to have warded off the enemy. I conclude that the
ship-worm, when it comes at all, comes ocdy from without, and is
not, as Barbara was, bom on board.
July 28, A sudden discovery I Our log for fourteen years shows
that the Coromandel never once since the fire drifted South of 33 or
North of 24 ; but now at last we are in 23i, and still going north-
ward ; getting farther and farther from our old locality, and coming
into new waters. What means this ?
Aug, 23. The ship for 26 days has been creeping northward.
She is now outside the fatal basin in which we have been rolling for
half a generation. Heaven forbid that we shall be blown back again
into the same dismal circle 1
Nov, 21. At work to-day farming my sea-grass, ^Barbara and
Beaver frolicking in the fragrant weed.
Bee. 13. Lat 19 S. ; Long. 20 W. The Trade Wind once
more I blowing us to the Northward. Have not felt a breath of
this wind since it first wafted us, years ago, into the mid-ocean.
Now we have come once more under the fanning of its brisk wings I
may it drift us toward Cape St. Boque, or in sight of some pass-
ing ship I
^63, Jem. 9, To-day the sounding-board of the piano split with a
loud noise, breaking Barbara's heart with its fracture.
Apnl 21. Bearing, Lat. 12 S. ; Long. 29 W. The Trade Wind
and the Ocean Current are now harnessed to us, like twin steeds to a
chariot, and we are driving toward warmer climes. Thank heaven
we must be edging our way into the haunts of the mercantile marine !
MoAf 13, Jeisebel fell as the ship lurched, and the weight of her
body, doubling her wrist, dislocated it. The poor creature groaned
with pain. It was pitiful to see Beaver, looking on in sympathy. He
seemed to regret that he had ever given his life-long critic any just
ground for her censures.
June 1. Barbara wrote a letter to-day, addressed to some imagi-
nary person, whose name she would not tell, and sent it in a plum-
jar to find its destination by sea.
Jidy 6, Detected, here and there, spots of mildew and rust on the
cans, especially on the cans of corn and pears.
DB. tail's joubnal. 117
July 28, Lai. 12 S. ; Long. 60 W. The Westward current is in-
creasing. At this rate of progress, we must sooner or later come to
the end of the sea.
" Hope springs eternal in the hnman breast."
Aug, IS, Suspect that I am about to cross the Line. Our prog-
ress is at the rate of 87 miles a day. This must by and by take the
old ship somewhere.
"Anywhere, anywhere into the world."
8ept, 4. At last our solitary geranium, which has been withering
for two years, has died of old age. Barbara will not allow the dead
stalk to be pulled up. This plant has been the sole garden of the
ship. It has put forth, year by year, the only green leaf that Bar-
bara ever saw. The little handful of soil in which its roots have
dwelt is the only Mother Earth she has ever touched ; and every
grain thereof is precious gold. The flower has faded. Let it not be
the emblem of our green hope, blighted at last!
Oct, IS. Great God, the North Star beams on us ! It is our first
sight of it for a half a generation 1 We are in another hemisphere I
'64, Jan, 1. Having no horse-shoe for good luck, I celebrated the
New Year by nailing an arched fish-bone over Mary's door, in fore-
token of better days to come.
Teb, 17, The doldrums I The heat I The rain I The calm I
The sunshine I the worthlessness of life !
Feb, 19, Barbara rebels at algebra, but I insist.
Feb. 8. Would I had a map to tell me wheie I am I The ship is
going almost westward. I have hauled back the drag, and keep a
small sail hoisted, for now wind and current unite to speed me on
my course. Made 46 miles yesterday 55 to-day.
March 11. A tropical tornado has blown for 17 hours. Three
waves, in swift succession, swept over the ship from stem to stem,
but the trusty drag kept the bow to windward.
April 1, Took a manitee.
ApnL 9, The ocean much salter here than in the southern hemi-
sphere.
April 15, When are these wanderings to end ? Perhaps never,
except with our lives. But I am ashamed to catch myself pitifully
and childishly murmuring at our lot. We are in the kindly care of
Him who ' * measured the waters in the hollow of his hand, and meted
118 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
out the heavens with a span, and comprehended the dust of the earth
in a measure, and weighed the mountains in scales, and the hills in a
balance."
May 7. How do the butterflies get so far out at^ea ?
Ma/yll, All's well.
The foregoing excerpts from Dr. Vail's meagre diary in-
dicate the tedious events in the strange life which the
Coromandel's company lived on board their wandering
ship ; and no further quotations need be made from the
long and dilatory tale.
But in here dismissing this diary, it should, be stated, as
a matter of curious interest, that Dr. Vail found an ever-
increasing difficulty in supplying himself with writing-
materials. During the first three^ years, he wrote with a
gold pen ; but at last its diamond-point failed. He then
plucked from the wing of an albatross its long quills ; but
these, being soft, were so lavish of ink that he rapidly ex-
hausted his store of the precious fluid. He then distilled
from a peculiar sea- weed a dark-green juice, which he kept
from corrosion in a solution of spirits ; and he fed his new
ink to his page with niggardly dribblings through a slen-
der, hollow bone from a dolphin^s dorsal fin.
Through all the weary years whose sorrowful history
Eodney Vail daily noted in his Doomsday-Book, the long-
suffering man still maintained a courage equal to his fate.
The will, which is the pillar of the mind, still towered
within him, not only unbroken, but unbent. His hope of
rescue, though no longer a feverish passion, was still an
abiding conviction. The indomitable man ceaselessly
strove to reach the world with messages sent forth over the
sea in his little dancing shallops of glass. One of the latest
of these visionary endeavors was a long letter, rolled close-
I" . ly together, and thrust lengthwise into a wine bottle. It
was as follows :
DB. tail's jouenal. 119
At Sba, Ship Coboxandel, .
May 12, 1864. I
Lst. 12 deg. 40 min., N. ; Long. 43 deg. 16 min. W. )
Mt noi!70BED Father,
If you are yet in the land of the living, receive the salutation of
your son, who writes these lines on board a dismantled ship, that has
drifted without sails or crew, for more than sixteen years, over a
desolate sea, and still rolls and tosses perhaps hundreds of leagues
from land.
Our great disaster overtook us on the 1st of October, 1847, in Lat.
30 deg. 49 min. S., Long. 14 deg. 28 min. E. The ship was struck by
lightning, set on fire, and hastily abandoned by the captain, crew, and
passengers all except Mary, Mrs. Bamley and myself. A deluge of
rain quenched the conflagration, just in time to save us from imminent
death. In the midst of the tempest, Mary gave birth to a babe, now
called Barbara, and grown to be the fairest of her race.
Since the day of our shipwreck, we have never descried the solid
earth, nor met a passing vessel, nor looked into other human faces
than our own. For fourteen years we cruised at a snail's pace round
the centre of the South Atlantic, where Capricorn softens the sea into
a perpetual calm. Eighteen months ago we emerged from this
charm^ circle, and have ever since been steadily creeping northward,
till we have now sunk the Southern Cross, passed the Equator, and
found the North Star.
Having no map, I cannot determine our exact geographical position,
but we must be verging toward the West Indies.
Our provisions still hold out, and so do our hopes of deliverance.
The ship, having been staunchly built, and seldom exposed to rough
weather, has never sprung a leak ; her white-oak timbers are still
untouched by dry-rot or the worm.
Our life on board is mercifully exempt from bodily suffering or
extreme hardship. We are all well, our chief illness being home-
sickness ; we eat, we drink, and sometimes we are merry ; our garments
are not yet fallen to rags and tatters ; we have a few books and our
reasoning faculties ; we suffer many privations, particularly the
lamentable loss of fellowship with mankind ; but we are not in
despair, nor is life a burden.
My daily toils consist in snaring sea-birds, catching fish, trying out
oil from the dolphin or the porpoise, gathering rain-water into tanks,
and, during the hot season, spreading the deck with meadows of se
130 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
weed, drying it in the sun, binding it into bundles, and storing it in
the forecastle as fuel for Jezebel's kitchen fire.
Mary, when her fragile strength permits, plies her needle as of old,
refitting to our use the garments bequeathed to us by our escaped
fellow-voyagers years ago ; moreover, she gives to Barbara a daily
lesson both in books and music.
Our daughter is an inch taller than her mother, an eager and faith-
ful scholar, and a brave and loving child.
Many records of our misfortunes have I written, sealed, and cast
into the deep ; seldom with expectation that the sad story would reach
the eyes of men ; but this*morning I bethought me to write to you on
these fly-leaves, torn from the Bible my mother gave me the year be-
fore her death. The fancy seized my mind that as these leaves had
once been in my father's house, and had come forth from it, haply they
might find their way back to it again ^as the carrier-dove, uncaged
under a strange sky, flies unerringly home.
If this message, therefore, should reach your aged eyes, bearing
tidings to you that I am yet in life and health, I pray you send me
your instant benediction ; for a father's blessing may go round the
world to seek and find his son. Have I been so undutiful to you that
Heaven, which permitted even the prodigal to return, should keep me
an exile forever from my father's house ? Bitter and sorrowful is the
fate that parts me from the duty and care I owe to your declining
years. In the midst of this fathomless sea, my heart cries to you from
the still deeper depths of my love and grief. But there is an end to
all things, even to calamity.. God keep your white hairs above the
grave, till I look upon your face once more.
Witness my hand and seal.
In love and reverence,
Your son.
To WiLBRAHAM VaIL, BODNEY VaIL.
Salem, Mass.
U.S. A,
CHAPTEK IX.
MAEY VAIL's JOUENAL.
MES. VAIL, like her husband, kept a diary, but of a
different kind. It was a record of inward, not of
outward life ^a register of thoughts and feelings, not of
wind and weather. It did not read like a journal written
on shipboard least of all like a chronicle of shipwreck, or
of personal suffering. A stranger could not haye deriyed
from it a continuous narrative of the original disaster and
subsequent priyations.
She wrote it not daily, but weekly generally on Sunday
mornings. Her delicate handwriting did not wear out her
pen, nor exhaust her ink ; and yet her inkstand finally grew
dry under the double drought of summer and of time ; after
which she wrote, as her husband did, from the juice of the
sea-weed.
Mrs. VaiPs spirit was unconsciously breathed into her
note-book, and eyer afterward exhaled from its opened
pages as sweetly as if yiolets had been pressed between the
leayes.
Liying habitually in the inner, not the outer world, she
was a mystic ^a dreamer. Her true life was in her affec-
tions and meditations. Exterior things were important to
her only as they ministered to these innermost and passion-
less passions.
Deyoted to the Puritan faith, she had long ago appropri-_
ated state-room Ko. 7 (that number being, as she thou
121
122 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
mystical and hallowed) ^for a cloister, a chapel, a Gethsem-
ane ; to which she habitually resorted alone, and in
which, after closing the door and locking it behind her,
she bent her knee and with a low-murmuring voice -prayed.
She made a daily pilgrimage to this tear-consecrated
shrine.
Dwelling within herself, the wai'p and woof of this in-
ward life, as she wove it into her journal, consisted of three
threads wifely love, maternal solicitude, and religious
devotion.
Such a diary, being chiefly occupied with setting up
monuments and landmarks of the writer's affectional and
spiritual experiences, would be interesting mainly to mys-
tical minds like her own.
Accordingly, no other exhibition of its pages can judi-
ciously be made here than to furnish biographical partic-
ulars concerning the personages in this tale especially con-
cerning the character and career of her daughter.
ISj^. . I find myself running to the calendar to watch the spring's
return just as, before Barbara was born, I waited the date of her
birth ; and I have settled my mind to have fine weather two weeks
from to^ay.
. . . My babe filk me with mystery and gratitude. I dare hardly
speak my feelings aloud I am so grateful. I never felt so like pon-
dering, and keeping all my thoughts concerning the high calling of
motherhood as now. I say little but to God.
. . . How often I think of dear Rosa Chantilly and her family I
How lovingly she looked for us at Cape Town ! How agonized she
must have been at our calamity ! How little she now suspects, while
her boy Philip stands at her knee, and asks her to tell him about
Aunt Mary, that Aunt Mary is not under the ocean waves, but riding
peacefully over their glassy tops I
'49, . . Let me not complain of my tempest-tossed fate. For, am I
bereaved of anything vital to my heart's joy V Have I not my
darlings ? If these cannot content a woman's life, what can ? Having
mv husband and child, have I not everything ? Has Heaven smitten
y
MAKY tail's JOUBKAL. 123
me ? It has blessed ine. O my soul, be tbou superior to the halcyon,
and build thy nest in peace on the rolling wave I
. . . The sun has burned baby's face like unto papa's ; and her
little cheeks are peeling off into velvety flakes, like ;faded rose-leaves.
She wants Bel to be always carrying her up and down the deck, so
that her little bright eyes may look off at the water. What a wise
look a babe has I Barbara gazes on the waves as if she had been
familiar with their mysteries from the foundation of the world.
. . . Rodney came hurriedly down stairs, and asked me if I had
room for two new lodgers in our floating palace. I smiled at the sad
jest. He then disclosed a couple of Cape pigeons which he had just
caught alive. Barbara cooed at them more dove-like than they.
*50. . . Strange that I bear my body's pains better than my soul's
joys. Why is it that great love, great yearning, great emotion of
any pleasing and ecstatic kind even the farthest removed from
grief and distress should make me suffer ? My kisses on Barbara's
cheek, my love, my prayers ^these, although they are the very chief-
est delights of which my sad life is composed, nevertheless all go
quivering through me so as to make me suffer rather than enjoy.
What is suffering but painful joy ?
... Among Barbara's new acquirements is her discovery of the
evening star. After dark, for two or three nights past, she has stood
on a chair, gazing out of the little round window of my state-room ;
and when at last the star appears, she is 80 happy, and calls us all to
look.
'5i. . . My husband has been writing some strange and weird
verses, which I will copy and save :
The Two Ladders.
Benighted in my pilgrimage, alone,
And footsore, for the path to heaven grew steep,
I looked for Jacob's pillow of a stone,
In hope of Jacob's vision in my sleep :
Then in my dream, whereof I quake to tell,
Not up from earth to heaven, but O sad sight I
The ladder was let down from earth to hell I
Whereon, ascending from the deep abyss,
Came fiery spirits, who with dismal hiss
Made woeful clamor of their lost delight,
And stung my eyelids open, till in fright
I caught my staff, and at the dead of night,
I, who toward heaven and peace had halted so.
Was fleet of foot to flee from hell and woe.
124 TBHPEST-TOSSED.
. . The little chapel-room was chilly to-day from rain and damp-
ness, but with my shawl wrapped round me, I knelt and received a
blessing. Having so often known this rest and blessedness, why do
I so often persist in bearing a burden which I know that in one
happy, heavenly moment I can lay down ?
... I rebuked Barbara for saying, I Can't. My darling, said I,
you can do anything if you only tay. No, she replied, I might try
till I am gray to fly, and never could do it. What shrewd replies
children make, and how careful we ought to be in our speeches to
them !
... I was, to-day, seized with a cold, fainting turn. It made me
think of dying. Indeed, why should I live longer I What useful
work can I do, with these thin, white, feeble hands ?
^63, . . The dear little girl is so lovable. I feel so safe about her
spiritual welfare. The responsibilities of motherhood weigh upon
me like a sweet burden, when I think of my feeble attempts to edu-
cate Barbara. Not even a mother no, none but Grod alone can
fitly train a child's immortal souL
. . . Why is it that a man so absorbs a woman's thought and life?
How beautiful is Rodney's nature I How grand his resources I
If he were among men he might prove his genius and power ; but
how could the world, even if he were in it, ever know his purity and
tenderness ? These are known only to God and to me. "My be-
loved is mine, and I am his."
^64, . . Barbara wants to know all about the school-children whom
I used to teach in Salem, particularly Lucy Wilmerding. She teases
me to read to her again and again Rosa Ohantilly' s letter about little
Philip and his squirrel Juju. These playmatesLucy, Philip, and
Juju^eem to live as vividly in Barbara's fancy as if they were real
flesh and blood before her eyes. What a charming necromancer
childhood is I
. . . The weather is fine now, and I shall be of good cheer, for it
is well with him whom my soul loveth. 0, for a little more bodily
strength ! I want to carry a smiling face before Rodney. If I live
I shall teach Barbara to begin her love where mine now is. I cannot
conceive of a sweeter future for Barbara than a faithful love.
. . . To-day a new mysterious feeling came over me which I never
before detected a kind of awe, or waiting, or listening to learn what
God will do for me and an agony of fear lest, by reason of my un-
worthiness, I should fail to receive His blessing.
, 5^. Taught Barbara how to cross-stitch.
MABT tail's JOUENAL. 125
^55, . . How I rejoice in my husband's love I I am kept in sweet
humiliation by it. The chords of my heart are set to the harmony of
love for this heroic man. that the flame may always bum, so that
he shall never fail to see it in my cheeks, eyes, and soul !
. . . Alas, that Barbara has no playmates no children to keep her
company I A childless wife is to be pitied ; but a childless child a
child without children for companionsa child who has never seen
any other child than herself O this is pitiful indeed I God is a
father to the fatherless ; may He reveal himself once again a little
child for Barbara's sake I
^56, . . Rodney is right when he calls me a dreamer. To dream is
to charm away care. My little chapel is my dream-land. What are
good dreams but sweet prayers ? What are the best prayers but the
sweetest dreams ? the mystical union of the soul with heaven I
. . . All Rosa Chantilly's hopes, promises, and prophecies about
her little son Philip, which used to fill her letters with such a sweet
extravagance of mother-love, are repeating themselves in my own
heart over Barbara. that I might be able to share with Rosa the
delight of seeing my child brought up, as hers is, amid the advantages
of a home, of schools, of churches, and of cultivated life I
... I love to read Rodney's letters to me over and over. Is there
anything sweeter than old love-letters which, when read again in after
years, find all their early prophecies fulfilled in the actual love which
they had first predicted only in fancy and hope ?
... I was startled to-day. Hearing a soft footstep in the cabin, 1
looked out of my room, and thought I saw the figure of Miss Marjorie
of Salem. It was the same sort of strange bonnet, cape, and cut of
dress, the same kind of old veil, and the same feeble and decrepit
step. This surprise was one of Barbara's tricks. She had contrived
to rig herself into a counterfeit image of Miss Marjorie, whose
daguerreotype is among our souvenirs.
... Barbara is developing housekeeping propensities and a keen
relish for dress. She makes a lavish use of our store of lady's ward-
robes. She begged her father yesterday for permission to open a trunk
whose contents have heretofore been opened only for airing, not for
use. Rodney gave way to her importunity. It contained Mrs. At-
will's wedding-dress creamy-white satin. Barbara dressed herself
in it, and appeared at table as a bride, though not ** adorned for her
husband." I wonder if Barbara will be vain of her beauty. If her
sun-burn were oflf, she would be very, very handsome. She is lookin?
Oipje an^ more like her father, and her blue eyes and light luiii: 9?
126 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
fit outdoor mates for sky and sun. I do not dare to tell her how wild
and beautiful she is. Still, she* is nothing but an overgrown child
full of animal spirits, and as restless as a leopard.
^58, . . I have been looking over my memorials of Barbara ^though
she does not know it. All the little precious scraps of letters which
* she has written to me all her tiny bits of love and bad spelling all
these I have kept from the beginning. Often and often, now that she
pursues graver studies, and lives a more discontented life, do I shut
myself up, take out these records of her happy childhood, and weep
over them. how hard it was for me to consent to her growing up
at all. I always wanted her to remain a babe, just as she was at first,
or never to be any older than only to answer back smile for smile.
How happy she was when she first began to totter alone about the
cabin, tumbling down and getting up again I How restless, aspiring,
and disappointed she is now I She is outgrowing me I cannot hold
her. She is strong like her father, but not patient.
. . . Another change has come over Barbara's thoughts. When she
was younger and more childish, she asked endless questions about
Philip and his squirrel. This was her favorite story. But now she
seldom almost never speaks Philip's name. My young maiden, like
many another of her age, prefers the companionship of girls, not boys.
So Barbara takes to Lucy Wilmerding, and drops Philip. The strong
fellowship of girls with girls amounts sometimes to a positive repug-
nance to associate with the opposite sex as I often used to notice
in my school. The last vestige of Barbara's childhood has gone,
and how am I to bring myself to think of her as a predestined
woman I
*60. . . In the midst of this gray, hazy weather, I have been recall-
ing the bright flowers of New England. At this moment, I can see the
pimpernel ; the larkspur ; the celandine among the Salem rocks ; the
purple and yellow heart's-ease which, even to think of, brings a little
ease to my weary heart ; the mignonette, which " I can smell seven
thousand miles away from Pritchard farm. ^Ah, shall we ever again
. see Grandfather's dandelions in the meadow, or the hollyhocks in
Newbury Lane ? Shall the crickets ever again chirp a cheerful wel-
come to our feet in the green grass ? Are the morning-glories still
on the old garden -wall? Do the honeysuckles still climb the pillars
of the east porch? Fade, sweet blossoms, if you must, and perish
in the raw New England winds I but you grow perennial in the
garden of my memory I
^61, . . My husband wrote a bit of pleasantry to-day, which I
MART^ tail's JOUBKAL. 127
transcribe here for preseryation. I am glad that he can smile at his
misfortunes in this way :
From our own Correspondent.
MiD-OcEAN News Agency,
Tropic of Capricorn, Aug. 12th.
The chief attraction at this sea-yiew resort, during the watering-
place season, is the unique establishment of Dr. Eodney Vail.
This painstaking caterer has his usual number of guests who stay
with him all the year round.
Bon Yivants will be glad to know that he retains at the head of his
cuisine the well-known Mrs. Jezebel, whose carte du Jour for to-day
includes the following delicacies :
Sea-weed soup,
Ham du Diable,
Lobster k la tin can,
Sausage Porpois^,
Green Peas,
Jam do Easpberrie,
Kelp,
Blubb^,
Equatorial Current Jelly,
Note, (The wines at this establishment were a choicejstock that came into pos-
eesfiion of Dr. Vail in 1847.)
The water-prospect which the host of the Hotel Coromandel fur-
nishes to his guests is one of the most extensive in the world, and the
facilities for bathing are without limit.
Among the guests registered on the books of the Coromandel are
the delicate and beautiful Mrs. M V , who is a pronounced
brunette, and her charming daughter Miss B V , who is a
blonde of a pure type, 7^62? d la Grec, and hair borrowing a sheen from
the Field of the Cloth of Gold.
Dr. Vail's unique establishment still maintains its old position on
the very top of the wave.
'6S, . . It is long since I have communed with my journal. Sorrow
for our fate, and despair of seeing Rodney and our darling Barbara in
their deserved sphere in life, together with anxiety on account of Bar-
bara's restlessness and misery, have made me loath to tell my troub-
les save to God alone not even to my little book.
. . . How the folks at home would smile at my strange needles ar-^^
threadl
128 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
. . . We occasionally baye a dramatic entertainment in which
Rodney, Barbara, and I personate the characters, and Jezebel consti-
tuteg the audience. Sometimes Beaver is one of the actors. Barbara
is so intense in her acting that she often utterly confoimds the poor
dog's brains, so that Beaver runs off in fright, and breaks up the per-
formance.
. . . Barbara's birthday. Sixteen years ! that fiery night,
which I am grateful not to remember I How it must bum in Rod-
ney's memory I My own mind recalls nothing but the babe. Even
Fate itself (if there be an evil genius of that name) could not blot out
a babe from its mother's mind. Baby Barbara I How vividly I re-
call the little thing in her babyhood I ^fat, crooning, and brown as a
berry I sitting on the cabin floor against the velvet cushion around the
mast. I look back to her happy face as it was when she sat with her
seisvsors cutting out patterns of all the animals in Noah's Ark. How
merrily she used to mimic all kinds of noises such as our own voices,
the bird screams, the wind, the water-splashings, Beaver's bark, Bel's
odd speeches, everything I How she used to deck the ship with wind-
mills and dog- vanes I What wonderful sayings she uttered to her
puppets and pets I How her happy laugh went piercing through the
hip like the note of a canary in its cage! But now Barbara's spirit
is clouded she is stormy-hearted. * ' Mother, " said she to-day, * * I re-
fuse to be satisfied. Try as I may to be patient, an inward pain
consumes me. I long, I yearn, I waste my sleep, I break my heart.
I will not be reconciled to this fate. why, why do I bum with so
many desires for liberty, except that I am to enjoy it at last I If I
could be content with this present lot, God would see no reasoii for
giving me a better one. So I shall complain to him night and day."
When Barbara spoke in this wild strain this morning, she brought
tears to my eyes, whereupon she chid herself for troubling me with
Tier troubles. The deax child struggles hard to control herself, but
she has a nature %o unfld and strong that she cannot curb it. Her
father never fehecks her. He simply says that her storms of grief
must have outward vent, or else they would mildew her heart with
inward blight. But mothei*s are not like fathers. that I could
give my darling the wings of a dove, that she might fly to the utter-
most parts of the earth and be at rest !
Mrs. VaiPs journal contained many other records simi-
lar to the aboYC ; records never of the ship and its perils ;
^ecords seldom of storms, and fogs ; records hardly of sick-
I
MARY tail's JOUKKAL. 129
ness and watchings ; but records mainly of the gentle
writer's heart-yearnings for the welfare of her little
family.
It is noticeable that her diary, while it chronicled her
constant sorrow at the pitiful exclusion of her husband and
daughter from the world and its priyileges, gave no token
that she bemoaned her own lack of these same blessings.
She seemed to forget that she too was fitted, like the rest, to
enjoy the society from which they all alike were banished.
Her thought was not for herself, but for them.
Among all her earthly desires, the chief was that God
would mercifully unchain the captive princess, BarbaraVail.
Mary's allusion to the strangeness of her needles and
thread, suggests a word of explanation. Always an adept
at needle-work, she was never without a task for her busy
fingers. Her state-room was a woman's workshop. It was
always strewn about with garments in process either of
altering, mending, or making. She made few, altered
many, and mended all. Barbara was gradually instructed
in the same art, though she found plain -sewing more irk-
some than painting in water-colors, and would give up
either at any moment to run to the piano. Mrs. Vail's
needle was as industrious below the deck as Eodney's
harpoon above it. Her habit was to sit on a low rocking-
chair and sew, while Barbara stood at her knee, reciting
her lessons or reading aloud.
Fabrics were plenty, but needles and thread became
scarce.
The question, "What becomes of all the world's pins
and needles ? " has often excited the speculations of inge-
nious essayists ; and the Coromandel was like a well-regu-
lated house on land in the extraordinary facility with
which the old hulk would hide away and never again
discoTcr its needles and pins.
130 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
r
^^ I think/' said Barbara, ^^ that the ship must swallow
them.''
Certain it was that -Mrs. Vail's needles, which she yalued
beyond price, disappeared one by one as if they had taken
to themselves the legs of cunning insects and run away in
the night.
"My thread," said Mary, "I can account for : I have'
used it up ; not a spool of cotton, not a skein of silk, not
a ball of yam is left ; and yet I know where everj needleful
of it has gone : but how the needles have vanished is a
puzzle I cannot solve."
"Well," said Bodney, "we must devise new needles and
thread."
At first he proposed to cut one of the wires of the piano
into needle-lengths, but Barbara objected to his inflicting
such a wound on her stringed instrument, and, with elo-
quent menace, warned off the intruder from his proposed
depredation on her property. Afterward he picked to
pieces a silver watch, left by Mr. Jansen in state-room No.
6, and changed its mainspring from " tick, tick, tick," to
"stitch, stitch, stitch." But, after repeated experiments,
he found nothing that so satisfied Mary's delicate touch
as the slender fin-bones of the flying-fish, for these were of
nature's finest horn, lively and flexible, with prickly points
that grew sharper instead of duller with constant use. So
Mary had strange wings given to her flying fingers.
Thread was made by unraveling woven fabrics, and
re-twisting the weak filaments into a strength sufficient for
pulling them through the cloth in sewing. Bed-sheets,
table-covers, crash-towels, flannels, and silk skirts were
frayed out to furnish the ship's Penelope with daily thread.
But my needlework," said Mary, smiling, "is stronger
than Penelope's, for hers kept unraveling because her lord
was absent, but mine holds so tight that my husband never
can get beyond my fingers' reach."
I'
MAEY tail's JOUEKAL.. 131
One day wten Mary's room-door was shut, and she was
busy at work inside, making an Oriental garb for Barbara,
consisting of alternate red and blue flannel, patterned from
a picture of a Turkish woman in one of the ship's books of
trayel, she heard a gentle knock at her door, and on rising
to open it, discovered Eodney in the act of pinning to the
maple-wood panel a placard with this inscription :
Mary Vail,
se-amstress,
Chits mdfit% ga/rments in the fashions ofaU ihs
undmlized nations of the globe.
CHAPTEK X.
THE CAGED BIED.
''""VTEVER again will I read this tale of mockery," said
-i-^ Barbara, shutting a little yolume from which she
had been entertaining her mother with the fable of
Tantalus.
^^ Tantalus I " exclaimed the maiden, with energy.
" He long ago left the earth, and / now take his place. It
is I, not he, from whom the cup is perpetually snatched."
In the CoromandeFs cabin, Barbara's room was No. 13 :
a double room on the larboard side, with two round
brass-rimmed windows, looking out foreyer on the sea.
Through the solid glass panes, Barbara often gazed by day-
light, moonlight, and starlight with perpetual longing for
the shore and the world.
Nevertheless, the little chamber was not so barren that
her eyes instinctively fled from it to rest elsewhere. Its
wooden walls were draped with showy upholstery which
the fair occupant had arranged with her own ingenious
hands, from a set of crimson-damask curtains found among
Madame D'Arblay's confiscated stock of household equi-
page. Against this brilliant background, a few little
pictures and trinkets were hung in tasteful order. This
gay apartment, with its animating, almost fiery color, led
her father to say,
" Barbara, you live like a gold-bug inside a moss-rose."
To this room Mrs. Vail had a habit of taking her sewing
133
THE CAGED BIRD. 133
for an hour or two a day, and Barbara would there read
aloud to her from the few books of the ship's library, almost
every one of which she had thus read several times through,
and yet she still kept on reading them, in favorite portions,
again and again.
*^ A good book," said Dr. Vail to Barbara, *^ will bear
perpetual devouring, and can never be gnawed to the
bone."
It was while reading from a small well-known volume of
'^Ancient M^hs and Fables," that she suddenly broke
forth into her fretful allusion to Tantalus.
"My dear daughter," replied her mother, trying to com-
fort her, and trying also to comfort herself, "there is one
supreme solace for all human souls."
^' Pray, mother, tell me what that is."
"My child," returned her mild monitor, "have I not
taught you that though we may lose this world, we shall
gain the next ? "
" -mother," exclaimed the daughter, " I want the
earth first ! "
Barbara was like any other young and growing plant
that seeks to thrust its root into the ground before open-
ing its flower to the sky.
The maiden, after finishing her reading, laid aside her
book, took an empty plum-jar in one hand, a folded letter
in the other, left her mother, and went on deck*
Mrs. Vail returned to her own room, where she was
joined by her husband.
"0 Eodney," she exclaimed with a sigh, "would to
God that our daughter might once more be as happy as
when she knew too little of the world to wish and weep
for it I"
" Mary," replied Bodney, ^^had we brought up Barbara
like a white mouse in a wicker-basket, feeding her as if
she had only a comely body, but no mind ; had we never
134 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
given her a hint that beyond the horizon's rim there dwell
millions of human beings, her kindred, who for centuries
have occupied the earth, greening it with cultivation,
spangling it with cities, glorifying it with arts, bestrewing
it with happy homes ; had we kept Barbara in ignorance
of this lore which is every child's right, even though it is
this child's misery- -she might have lived like some un-
winged bird whose instinct had never b6en awakened
toward the sky. If we could have foreseen our long cap-
tivity in this boundless dungeon of time and space, we
might have led our daughter blindfold into a more igno-
rant and less restless life ; we might have deadened in
her the capacity for knowledge in order to protect her
against a few noble risks of sublime wretchedness. But
we have done her no such wrong. You and I have pict-
ured to her the world's beauties and pleasures. She wishes
to enjoy them. It is a natural wish : never quench such
a flame : it is Barbara's vestal fire : let it bum."
Mrs. Vail; in conducting the unique seminary * styled
Topsy-Turvy College, not only gave to Barbara the old-
time school lessons which she had long before given to her
classes in Salem, but she carried her solitary pupil as
much farther^ as she could from the books at her com-
mand, and from her recollections of history and litera-
ture;
^^The imagination," said Rodney, ^^is a child's chief in-
tellectual faculty. It needs more food than the rest of
the mind. You, Mary, are a Puritan's daughter ; your
ancestors were noble but mistaken zealots who sought to
crush the imagination out of human nature, and who re-
garded red as too extravagant a color for the rose. Forget
the prejudices of the Puritans, and let Barbara's thoughts
run riot among all the rich and beautiful things which
she can conjure up before her mind's eye. Give a child
'^ Barbara a few picturesque facts that please her sense
i*i
THE CAGED BIRD. 135
of the beautiful, and out of these slender materials she
will create for herself whole worlds of beauty. The soul
out-hungers the body. It is not enough that Barbara
should feed on pemmican, porpoise, and flamingo ; she
needs Shakespeare, the Apocalypse, and the Sphinx."
Dr. Vail, acting on this theory, gave to Barbara, day by
day, and year by year, an ever-increasing store of beauti-
ful images, both from Nature, as interpreted by the dis-
coveries of science, and from Art, as embodied in the cre-
ations of poetry.
On the one hand, he unwove for her the picturesque
woof of the rainbow, and, with a piece of broken chande-
lier for a prism, divided a ray of light into its seven parts.
He pointed out to her through a wretched little micro-
scope (the only one he had), how the tiny red shrimp of
the seaweed, though invisible to the naked eye, is never-
' theless pursued by the gre^itt wha^e ; in other words, how
the smallest creature in the ocean maintains the life of
the largest. He dipped up a little sea- water, set it to
evaporate in the sun, took a grain of the salt which was
left, and showed her that this was of the same model as a
pyramid of Egypt. He put his finger on his daughter's
pulse and taught her how the clock of life keeps time.
On the other hand, in supplementing these scientific
lessons with their poetic counterparts, he gave to Barbara
the pretty legends and tales which constitute the common
inheritance of childhood, and of which no child can be
deprived without the loss of its patrimony. He taught
her winged feet to run over the race-course with Atalanta,
and to stop with that maiden in order to pick up the
apples of the Hesperides (Barbara always losing her own
heart to the cunning lover who played the pretty trick).
He led her forth on little picnics to Mount Helicon, and
taught her to dip her cup in the Fount of Aganippe, slak-
ing many an inward thirst in that innocent way. He se
136 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
her on the back of Alexander's careering horse Bucephalus,
or in a statelier seat on a white elephant of the King of
PontuB. He sailed voyages with her to the Island of
Avilion, drawn thither by mystic attraction to its Castle
of Loadstone. He bewitched her with the Phoenix that
could rise out of the fire, at which she marveled the more
because all the birds that she had seen could rise only out
of the water. He sent her to the Cave of the Forty
Thieves, to say " Open Sesame," and to bring away the
priceless treasures for her own. He lured her to follow
the sylvan wanderings Of Paul and Virginia, and to love
Paul more than she could Virginia. He permitted her to
make friends with TJndine the Water Nymph, and to
inquire of that strange creature how so delightful a thing
as marriage could bring so many troubles to the bride.
All these facts and fictions which her father taught her,
whether from science or poetry (though modern science is
rapidly becoming the chief poetry of the world), all these
fascinating marvels Barbara received at first with implicit
belief. She found no difficulty in crediting the most
impossible tales. Thus, as she had never watched the
slow process of building a house stone by stone, she had
all the more reason for accepting the swift and easy archi-
tecture of Aladdin's Palace. With most children, it is
only when they are very young that they believe in Santa
Claus and his reindeers ; the eclipse of faith comes early.
But with Barbara, this beautiful credulity lingered long ;
and a happy thing it was in her case, for it gave her the
magic of Midas wherewith to turn her fancies to a fine
gold which the sea's rust could never dim.
Dr. Vail's method of educating this strong, bright,
beautiful girl produced upon her two opposite effects;
first, the awakening of her mind to the sunshine of clear
intelligence and aspiration, and next, the gradual becloud-
ing of this light by a gloomy sense of her exile and im-
THE CAOED BIRD. 137
prisonmoiit. But something like this occurs in eyeiy
cultiTHteil person's history, and is the natural result of all
true discipline of mind and heart. Such an education as
Barbara was receiving which was wiso and rich beyond
her power to estimate would have nobly doomed her,
even amid the pleaaautest of surroundings, to a gentle but
perpetual discontent with her soul's estate ; for it would
inevitably have roused within her that mortal or rather
that immortal restlessness and impatience which all ideal
natures must forever feel, not only toward fate and circum-
stance, but toward life itself.
"0 for the land!" sighed Barbara. "Shall my eyes
ever behold it ? Shall my feet ever walk on it ? Shall my
heart erer rest in it ? "
The homesick family found a frequent solace in talking
to each other of the land. To these castaways the grassy
earth was an evergreen Vale of Cashmere a Garden of
Eden which, if they could find it, would be Paradise
Regained. Barbara questioned them incessantly about the
land. What was it like P Was it as wide as thu sea ?
Was it as beautiful as the sky ? Could it truly hold up
great buildings and palaces, without breaking under their
heavy weight? What did the graves look like, that were
dug in it ? How could the little snow-flakes cover it out
of sight in a single night ? And would the Coromandel
ever get to it ?
Such questions hundreds and thousands of them Bar-
bara, child of the sea, asked concerning the shoro. She
took delight in her father's portrayals of mountain.^, hills,
forests, meadows, rivers, and green grass. Without wait-
ing to see the solid earth, she adopted God's creative
opinion of it that it was "very 'good."
Dr. Vail had traveled in Europe, and seen Switzerland
with its mountains, Scotland with its lakes, theHliiiiewiy^
its ruins, English cottages with their ancient oaks, an-'
138 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
French vineyard-regions with their grapes. All these
pictures, he painted over again to Barbara's fancy, and
yet he said,
^^ My daughter, the fairest of all' lands is your own ; for,
though you were born at sea, you are of New England line-
age ; you must always think of your mother's and your
father's country as yours. The English colonist speaks of
the mother-country ; the German exile, of the fatherland.
You must have a country. In whatever part of the earth
you happen to go ashore, remember that you are an Ameri-
can, a New Englander, a Yankee. Yes," he added humor-
ously, " we are part of the floating population of Massa-
chusetts." ^
Dr. Vail felt, moreover, that Barbara must have not only
a country, but a home in it. The home that he chose for
her was a certain New England farm within sight of the
sea-coast. It was the Pritchard country-seat. Barbara
so often had the place described to her, that its landmarks
were vivid to her mind. She frequently visited it in fancy
almost as if she had stroUqd through it in fact.
" Tell me once again," she would sometimes say to her
father, ^^all about Grandfather Pritchard's house and
farm."
'^ Well, my child," Dr. Vail would answer, ^^ it is a staid,
plain, white cottage. It stands a little back from the
road, not on a hill, but on a rolling knoll. The real charm
of the house is the spacious piazza in the rear, looking
toward the east and the ocean. Up the pillars of this
piazza run clambering ivies, honeysuckles, and roses, mak-
ing a tangled mass of foliage that changes color with the
changing seasons. Stone fences, heaved awry by frost,
give an antique air to the farm ; and I have seen many a
red squirrel racing over their jagged tops. A row of Lom-
bardy poplars, tall and slender, and sometimes shivering in
the east wind, can be seen from fishing-smacks for miles
THE CAGED BIRD. 139
and miles ; and I wish they were now in sight from the
Coromandel. Have I forgotten the garden ? no ! It
is a quaint old garden, which, from spring to autumn, be-
ginning with crocuses and ending with dahlias, bejewels
all the months between with New England's familiar
flowers. Familiar ? Ah, my daughter, I forget that you
never saw them ! There are morning-glories, lilacs, hearts-
ease, white lilies, unpink pinks, tongue- biting nasturtiums,
and sweet-fennel to take to church."
" Don't forget the fruit-trees," Mrs. Vail would say, un-
willing that any part of the sweetly-remembered farm
should go unrepeated in the tale.
*^ No, I do not forget them. A fruit-tree is an angel from
Heaven, sent back to restore Eden on earth. The fruit-
trees on Pritchard farm bore no forbidden fruits. Grand-
father Pritchard denied his fruits to nobody. He even
plai1#fed cherry-trees for the birds and the school-boys."
" Go on," Barbara would exclaim, always the most eager
of the listeners.
" You may tell the rest, Barbara. Let me see if you
have forgotten any of it."
Barbara would then strike in, and add a few touches to
the oft-painted picture somewhat as follows :
^^ Grapes," she would say, '^grow there, which the frost
mellows, and which are not pressed into wine, as in some
countries, but are eaten one by one, like cherries from the
Coromandel's fruit- jars. Turkeys, which are a species of
domestic fowl, wander about the clover-fields, feeding on
insects called crickets and grasshoppers, in order to be fat
for Thanksgiving-Day a festival common in that country.
Near the house is a well of pure, fresh water, more cool
and sweet than the rain that we catch in our casks. The
rim of this well is called a curb, and has green moss about
it. The bucket is dipped and hoisted by a great beam
that was once a chestnut-tree, growing in the woods.
140 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
Some little boxes or houses for tiny birds called.wrens or
martins, are scattered about the lawn, set up on high masts.
Pigeons, which are swift-winged land-birds that fly like
our sea-gulls, live in a large family in the eaves of the
bam. Horses eat com in their own house, which is called
a stable, and they crunch the hard grain with a noise such
as we hear at night in the cabin when the waves splash
against the ship's side. Cows, which are horned and
harmless creatures, eat grass all day, and come home at
night to empty their milk into the dairy-maid's pail.'*
So Barbara would go on, giving item after item as in a
school-girFs recitation.
Dr. Vail took imaginary walks with Barbara through
the farm, and through the whole region far and near,
pointing out to her the fringed-gentians in their season ;
explaining to her how every wild rose of the thicket^ias
five pink petals, one for each finger and thumb St the
hand that plucks it ; telling her when the golden-rods and
asters bloom ; and adding, with each new recital of the
familiar story, some point of beauty not named before.
Dr. Vail's affection for Grandfather Pritchard's coun-
try-seat was because it was Mary's birthplace. The whole
.farm was sacred ground in his eyes hallowed like the
graveyard on the hill near by. He had trodden every
acre of this farm in company with Mary, during the
happy summer when they first took each other by the
hand to walk the way of life together.
Dr. Vail knew well enough that this quiet farm pre-
sented not a magnificent, but only a charming landscape^
yet he never allowed a fairer vision of any other part of
the earth's surface to dispute supremacy in Barbara's mind
with this beloved spot. Fly as her winged fancy might
round the whole earth, her father always lured it back to
this sylvan home, to build here (and here only) its familiar
nest. Often and often, on a moonlight night, the little
THE CAGED BIKD. 141
ship-wrecked band would revive their reminiscences of the
old homestead, and while the waves were rippling round
the ship, would set out on a journey up and down Grand-
father Pritchard's fields ; so that this far away New-Eng-
land farm went ever floating with these wanderers like a
green island in the midst of the sea.
" that I could once if only once see the land ! '*
exclaimed Barbara to Jezebel.
"Law, chile," replied the old woman "want to see
de Ian' ? Well, honey, jist shet dem blue eyes a minit
like a blind man, and look inside ^kind o' deep down
dis way ^and you can see anything you want. What's de
good book say ? 'Havin' eyes, dey see not.' Wei den, if
f dks, when deir eyes is open, can't see, dat means for 'em
to shet deir eyes and try in dat way. Lawks, my lamb,
more tings is seen by shettin' de eyes, dan by openin' 'em.
Want to see de Ian' ? Law, chile, jest shet yer eyes !
Dar ! now wait a minit for de vision to come. how
green de grass looks ! how de big trees shake deir tops
in de wind ! how sweet de little birds sing ! honey,
look out dar dar is de Ian' ! Don't you see it ? Now
open yer eyes and it's all gone ! "
Barbara was unequal to Jezebel in the faculty of inner
sight.
" 01 " said the girl, " I would willingly close my eyes to
all the rest of the earth, if only I might open them once on
Pritchard farm."
- The whole world, during her childhood, contained for
Barbara only two objects of greater interest than this
ancestral estate : one of these was a boy with a squirrel,
and the other a girl traveling in England.
Barbara, in her prattling and chattering years, con-
stantly discoursed of Philip and Juju. But afterward
there came a time when, for some strange reason which
her parents could not fathom, Barbara ceased to spee'
142 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
familiarly of Philip, and then dropped wholly even the
mention of his name.
Not 80 with Lucy's. In proportion as Barbara was
silent concerning the one, she was talkative concerning
the other. Lucy Wilmerding appeared to live on the very
top of Barbara^s up-bubbling thoughts ^like a ball on a
fountain.
"Eodney," said Mrs. Vail, speaking from a mood of
maternal anxiety, ^^I am jealous of Lucy Wilmerding.
She is bewitching Barbara's mind. You know what an
inspiration Lucy has been to Barbara. You know that no
commendation to Barbara could be greater than to tell her
that she behaved like Lucy, sang like Lucy, or recited like
Lucy. But Lucy's career has now become Barbara's
despair. Our impetuous child is no longer content to
emulate Lucy's studies and manners ; she covets also
Lucy's opportunities and privileges. We have taught'
Barbara that she should try to be like Lucy in so many
respects, that Barbara has at last taught herself to desire
to be like Lucy in all other things. Alas, how hard it is
to know the right from the wrong in teaching one's chil-
dren ! I supposed I was using Lucy to minister to Bar-
bara's comfort, not to her torment."
Mrs. Vail did not overstate the difference between the
earlier and the later influence of Lucy over Barbara, for it
was all the difference between sunshine and twilight.
Lucy's letters consisted of a loquacious bundle of missives
which she had written from Europe to Mrs. Vail, giving a
voluminous account of her travels. These letters, which
Mrs. Vail had saved and brought with her, constituted,
(with a few others of less interest) the only correspondence
that Barbara had ever seen except the childish billets-
doux that she sometimes wrote to her father and mother,
or of tener to herself.
Lucy's rambling pen, like a fairy's wand, called up before
/
THE CAGED BIRD. 143
Barbara's fancy the cities of London, Paris, Florence,
Eome, Vienna, St. Petersburg all the European capitals.
In reading these travels over and over again, Barbara saw
Lucy sauntering in picture-galleries and contemplating the
works of the old masters; she saw her visiting stately
libraries and rich museums ; she saw her in the opera-box
hanging on the notes of Mario and Grisi ; she saw her in
the theatre, in tears over IJachel ; she saw her in the gon-
dolas of Venice, and under the lindens of Berlin ; she saw
her buying jewels at Geneva, getting dresses fitted in Paris,,
and collecting knick-knacks, perfumes, mosaics, kid -gloves,
and other womanly delights ; she saw her in brilliant so-
cial parties, lovely among the loveliest and good among
the best ; ^in a word, she saw her passing through an
enchanted land and life, holding a talisman by which all
coveted things, at her mere wish, became her own.
All this Barbara saw in Lucy.
Turning from this fascinating mentor and rival, what
did Barbara see in her own poor, weather-beaten self ?
Barbara saw in her own person and career a hapless
young maiden who had been born in a shipwrecked hulk,
and had drifted all her life on the sea ; she saw an exile
from the living world ; she saw a castaway to whom not
the whole green earth had ever yet afforded space enough
for her bare, sunburnt feet to stand upon ; she saw a waif
tossing on billows which, as they rolled around her, were
emblems of the restlessness of her own life; she saw a
helpless victim to a fate that daily wreaked upon her some
fresh agony of impatience and hope deferred.
^' My dear husband," said. Mary, who sat in tears talking
to Rodney concerning Barbara's anguish of soul, "what
shall we do to keep the poor girl from breaking her heart
from going mad ?"
" Ah," sighed Eodney, " I knew it would come sooner
or later ^this conflict of Barbara with her fate. Never-
144 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
theless, it is for the best. Her restleissness is her discipline.
She must learn how to suffer and be strong."
^^ I am going to try with Barbara." said Mary, " a little
stratagem. Lucy's brilliant career dazzles Barbara into a
blindness that makes her own condition seem black and
despecate. Now in contrast with Lucy, Philip has proba-
bly had no such gold-paved pathway through life ; he has
had to fight his way, like most other young men ; he has
had no career which Barbara need envy; he possesses
nothing magnificent for Barbara to covet, as she covets
everything pertaining to Lucy; he will not appear to
Barbara as one of the earth's sovereigns, with a kingdom
for an inheritance, and with a circle of glories round him
to aggravate her soul by contrast with her own lowly estate.
So we ought to turn Barbara's thoughts from perpetually
dwelling on such a career as Lucy's a career which our
daughter, even were she on land, would not have the
wealth to carry out in her own case. We ought, rather, to
interest her in the toils, hardships, and struggles that
ordinarily fall to the lot of mortals a career such as
Philip has probably pursued."
Mrs. Vail's proposed plan of dealing with Barbara ex-
cited the half -satirical smile of Rodney, who simply replied,
^^ Ah, what mother ever yet was able to solve the sweet
and bitter problem of her daughter's troubled heart !
Neither you nor I can understand Barbara's misery.
Probably she does not understand it herself."
As Mary and Eodney thus sat talking together in the
cabin, a sudden shriek pieifeed their ears.
"Mercy I" exclaimed Mrs. Vail, "that is Barbara's
voice."
Another cry arose, in the same wild tone of peril and
fright, only muffled and distant.
Eodney rushed up to the deck, the old dog following as
fast as his age would permit.
THE CAGED BIRD. 145
*' Barbara 1 " shouted Dr. Vail.
There was no answer, and the girl was nowhere to be seen.
" horror ! " exclaimed Rodney, noticing some rippling
circles in the water, as if some object had just fallen oyer-
board. ^^ Can Barbara "
But before the fearful thought came to full utterance on
Eodney's lips, Beaver had leaped into the sea, diving like
a pelican, and dragging up Barbara by the sleeve of her
dress. Dr. VaiPs first glimpse of the submerged maiden
was of her disheveled golden hair, shining like sunlight
under the waves.
He seized a rope, tied one end of it round his waist and
the other to a stanchion, leaped overboard, and, with a
few lusty strokes, swam to Barbara's help.
"Courage, my child!" he cried. "Do not struggle !
Do not clutch my arm ! "
Barbara could not utter another cry, nor even gasp for
breath, for she was well-nigh strangled by her profuse hair,
which had wound itself in coils about her face and neck.
" God help me 1 " was her first wild word, half a moan
and half a shriek.
" Throw your right arm over Beaver's back," exclaimed
her father.
Barbara did so, clutching the dog's shaggy brown body
convulsively.
" Put your left hand on my shoulder."
She obeyed, and was thus buoydd up between her father
and her dog.
Barbara could not swim, nor had she ever before been in
the water.
Two rope stairways or Jacob's-ladders, made of ropes
and barrel-staves, had long before been rigged by Rodney,
one on each side of the ship, for Beaver's use and his own,
in landing their Captured game. The swimmers struck
out toward the larboard ladder.
rv^'
146 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
Dr. Vail clambered up, got a foot-hold, laid hold of one
of the higher rounds with his left hand, and, bending
down, drew Barbara up with his right, until she stepped
firmly on one of the lower rounds.
Peeling something solid under her feet, she rested a
moment, panted, brushed from her eyes her streammg hair
(which now was equally full of sunshine and rain), saw her
father above her, gaye him a look of unutterable affection,
and then with his strong help climbed up the slippery
stairway, while Beaver waited at the foot of it, as if ready
to catch her in case she should fall.
" Barbara, my daughter, my darling ! " cried Eodney,
embracing her, and then holding her oflf at arm's length,
gazing at his recovered treasure with the look of a man
who had just saved, not his life, but something dearer than
life itself. ^^Tell me, my child, how you fell into the
sea."
" My dear father ! " she exclaimed, after recovering her
breath, and regaining her presence of mind, " I was on the
bowsprit, just trying to throw a little fruit-jar out into the
water as far as I could, and I lost my balance and slipped
oflf.^'
Beaver, whose exploit had shown that in his ashes lived
his wonted fires, now stepped up sedately to the deck, shak-
ing himself into a shower of rain ; whereupbn Barbara,
dripping like the water-dog, and looking like some beaute-
ous mermaid just risen from the sea's floor, bent down over
the shaggy old creature, clasped her arms about his
neck, and kissed his wet ears.
Mrs. Vail, who had watched through her window the
whole proceedings, both of peril and of rescue, was so pros-
trated by the spectacle, that she staggered, was caught by
Jezebel, and laid on the bed, where Barbara, on going down
stairs, found her almost in a swoon.
..fc^^'My dear, good mother," said the maiden, after the
THE CAGED BIRD- 147
dripping Nereid had rearrayed her comely limbs in dry
robes, " I have been justly punished. Only a little while
ago I was fretfully wishing to getaway from this old ship ;
but how thankful, thankful, I am to be once again in
this precious cabin I ^this safe beloved home 1 Never shall
anything tempt me to quit this ship no, not even to
step on the dry land. Hereafter, dear mother, I will be
content to live my life just here on the Coromandel ^here
with you and father here with Bel and Beaver. I will
not sigh for the great world any more no, never any
more V^
Barbara's sudden experience was a common one to
human nature. A great peril, safely passed, sheds on all
commoner hardships a strange light of comfort and peace.
Barbara's gratitude in view of what she had just escaped,
made her willing and eager to welcome whatever she might
hereafter have to endure. She was nerved not only to
a passive resignation, but to a proud self-mastery; and
she felt a heroic desire to accept rather than avoid her
pitiful fate.
But the human will is not of adamant ; and in less than
a month after, the accident, Barbara found herself growing
even more unquiet than before, swaying and heaving with
longings for liberty.
"I foolishly persuaded myself," said she, ^*that I was
content with my lot ; but it is not so ; I am now become
not only a prisoner, but more ^not only a slave, but worse ;
I am what a moth would be, if forbidden to burst its
chrysalis denied that poor worm's privilege. how I
long to crack this narrow and mouldy crust ! How I fret
against this encumbering shell ! Am I unreasonable ? Do
I ask for more than God gives to others, without their
asking ? No ; I want liberty. I want life. I want my
little share of the great world. Above all else, I want
Lucy. I want - No ; I must not allow myself to name
f
148 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
that name. just and kind Heaven ! Why was I born
into the hnman race if I am to live f oreyer apart from it,
and to die haying never seen it ? "
Barbara, in these agonies, received much pity, but little
help. Her parents pitied her out of their full hearts, but
could not help her. Nor could she help herself.
As for Heaven's help, that helps us all, she had it in
an overwhelming abundance ; but it was help that she did
not realize or comprehend ; it was help that she prayed
against, and shuddered at ; it was help that came in a
divine disguise which is seldom detected or welcomed
by mortals ^the disguise of disappointment, heart-break,
and agony; it was help such as the gold gets in the
crucible, and the heart in the refining fire.
Barbara, like many another human soul that passes un-
willingly through the discipline of suffering, was constantly
receiving Heaven's best help, yet without knowing it.
Meanwhile, through days, weeks, months, years, the
Coromandel that strange, weird, mouldering ship, blown
of the wind and tossed of the wave kept on rocking and
swinging like a great rusty cage hung between heaven and
earth, holding within it, in life-long captivity, a golden-
plumaged bird that fluttered and struggled unceasingly to
escape, but ever in vain.
CHAPTER XI.
A GLIMPSE THROUGH A SPY- GLASS.
ALWAYS a light sleeeper, alert to the least change in
wind or sea, Eodney Vail was awakened just before
daybreak. May 27, 1864, by a faint quiyer through the
ship.
" What has happened ? " he exclaimed, and stole
quietly up to the deck.
He had been so often roused in the night by some real
or fancied noise, or plunge of the ship, that he was not
specially startled by the tremor which he had felt in the
Coromandel's timbers on this particular morning.
"Perhaps I was dreaming," said he; "and yet the
shock was surely something more than the dashing of a
wave against the ship's side. No," he added (looking list-
lessly about him, and noticing nothing in particular), "it
must have been one of my many heated fancies, that flame
up into delusions and cool off into disappointments."
But Dr. Vail, on second thought, still believed that the
Coromandel had come in contact with something more
than a wave ; and so he looked toward the bow to dis-
cover, by the breeze against his face, whether the ship
was head to the wind.
"Yes," said the watchful sailor, "the wind (what little
there is of it) is square in my teeth."
He walked forward and stood by the bowsprit, to see if
the water-drag was in its place and doing its duty.
149
150 TEMPBST-TOSSBD.
*^What ?" he cried, perplexed at not seeing the cus-
tomary mass of spars floating at the bow. " How could
it get away ? Did it break loose ? And if gone, what
li^eeps the ship head-to ? There is some mystery/'
Dr. Vail's curiosity was now excited to the uttermost,
mingled with alarm.
For years past, in order to guard the ship from ground-
ing on some unlooked-for shoal, he had kept one of his
two large anchors hanging oyerboard from the bow, allow-
ing the chain to reach down into the water about thirty
fathoms, so that at any moment, day or night, the ship
might anchor herself if the water grew shoaler than that
safe depth.
*^ How little motion the vessel now feels ! " said Eod-
ney, noticing that a strange fixedness and quietude had
passed into the rolling hulk.
Peering over the bow, he discovered that the chain-
cable, which held the anchor, was not running perpendicu-
larly down as usual, but trending out slantwise. More-
over, the other chain, which held the water-drag, was trail-
ing along the ship's larboard side, and out astern as far as
its length could reach. The water was rippling past from
bow to stern, swift as a brook, showing to Rodney's keen
glance that the ship, instead of drifting with the current,
was lying motionless in the midst of it.
" My God ! " he cried, " the Coromandel has come to
anchor ! "
He sat down a moment, took oil his felt hat, wiped
some sudden beads of cold sweat from his brow, panted
with a strange excitement, looked up, down, and around,
and repeated aloud,
^^ Anchored at last I "
Then, to make sure that he was not seK-deluded, he
struck his right hand against his forehead, as if to rouse
his stupefied brain, and asked himself.
-^r^\r'
A GLIMPSE THBOUGH A SPY-GLASS. 151
" Am I sane or mad ? is this a reality or a dream ? "
He re-examined the anchor-chain. Sure enough it was
sloping off at an angle of forty-five degrees holding the
ship fast in the midst of a brisk current that danced by
her at a merry pace. There could be no mistake ; the
Coromandel was anchored.
"Heaven be praised ! " he cried, with a thrill of ecstacy.
Dr. Vail's ship had found a mooring ; but where ? He
knew not, asked not, cared not ; for at that moment, all
he knew, asked, or cared was whether she was actually an-
chored ; that was enough !
To Eodney Vail, the mere thought was a fever and
flushed his face with fire. It was an ecstasy of sane mad-
ness. It was like the supreme joy of Leverrier at discov-
ing Neptune. It was a sense, not only of the lost bottom
of the ocean found at last, but of a new basis and comer-
stone put under the universe itself,
" Almighty Father, glory be to thy name I " cried Eod-
ney Vail, who stood with uncovered brow, upturned face,
and uplifted hands, as if bearing up his soul's gratitude
to heaven and holding it on high till sure of its accept-
ance above.
The rest of the ship's company still slept,
"What a day they will awake to I " he thought.
Then his busy brain filled itself with problems. Where
was he ? He. could not guess. What had been yester-
day's latitude and longitude ? He remembered the fig-
ures 12 18' N". ; 61 28' W. What part of the world
was this ? He had no map, and could not tell.
"I suspect," said he, ^^that the ship is somewhere
north of South America, or somewhere east of the West
Indies. How deep is the water ? It must be less than
thirty fathoms, for the anchor has found bottom, and the
chain is aslant. The ship, therefore, is not far from shore.
But I hear no surf. 0, for the dawn of day I "
162 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
Dr. Vail saw that nothing short of daylight could solve
the misty problem of his strange situation.
" What wee, tiny, noisy birds ! " he exclaimed, noticing
a flock of snipe fluttering about him and chattering with
small voices : ^a tribe of chirruping visitors ; which in-
dicated (he thought) that the land must be near, for they
were too multitudinous and feeble to be of the mid-
ocean's stately brood of tireless wings.
Eodney Vail, looking westward through his spy-glass,
saw the idol of his souPs quest, and exclaimed,
" Land ho 1 "
He saw it with open eyes, not dreaming, but awake.
^^ Land, land, land 1 " he cried.
It was a strip of actual, veritable, solid earth ; perhaps
an island, perhaps a cape, perhaps a continent ; ^he could
not tell which ^but it was land. The beams of the dawn
lighted it into unmistakable reality and it was land. The
discoverer's feet had not stepped upon it to prove its real-
ity ^but it was land. This self-same sailor had been
cheated before by mirage, but could not be deceived in
what he now beheld ^for it was land.
" What will Mary say to this ? " he cried. *' And Bar-
bara ? And Jezebel ? And Beaver ? "
Descending to the cabin, he woke his wife, and, without
reporting his discovery, said,
^* Mary, it will be the most beautiful sunrise that ever
dawned. Come and see it. Waken Barbara. Call Jeze-
bel, Come up quickly and join me on deck." After
giving this message, he went to Beaver's quarters, and pat-
ting the patriarch affectionately, exclaimed in a gentle tone,
" Beaver, you old water-dog, would you like to set your
feet on dry-land before you die ? Come, old cripple, hob-
ble up stairs 1 Would you know a dog if you should see
one ? It is a dog's lifetime, my dear old fellow, since you
last met and growled at one of your own race. You are
A GLIMPSE THROUGH A SPY-GLASS. 153
now about to meet multitudes of curs of high and low de-
gree. Do you think you will be able to nose out among
them the companions of your youth, now grown gray like
yourself ? Ah, Beaver, my brave old dog, it will be
pleasant, not only for me but for you, to see the world
again ; yet we have both been absent from it so long that
we dare not guess what friends have dropped out of it, or
how greatly it will seem changed."
Eodney Vail stood in the companion-way facing the east,
and as his wife and Barbara came up, followed by slow and
chattering Jezebel, he pointed to the day-break, saying,
" I have called you all to view this sunrise because you
may never see its equal in any climate."
They all gazed.
*'How beautiful!" exclaimed Mary, softly. "It re-
minds me of the mornings that used to break over the sea
at Salem. how many days have come and gone since
we saw that dear coast ! "
" Yes," replied Eodney ; "but we shall see it again."
Mary heaved a deep sigh and gazed in silence, struggling
against her doubts and hiding her despair.
"Father," said Barbara, who stood looking at the
flushed beauty of the sky "you know the sunrise is al-
ways beautiful : it is crimson to-day ; but we have seen it
just as flame-colored on a thousand other mornings."
" True," answered Eodney, "we have seen these same
burnished colors in the east, but did -you ever see any-
thing like yonder strange streaks in the west ! "
The little company all turned and looked at the opposite
quarter of the sky.
"What is that ?" inquired Barbara.
Mrs. Vail, who solved the riddle at a glance, sat with
tearful eyes and could not speak a word.
"Do not tell me," said Barbara. "Let me guess. Is
it a ship ? But it has no sails. Is it a bank of floating- ^
154 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
weed? No, it is too white. I cannot guess it ^tell me
what it is ; I have never seen anything like it."
" My daughter/' replied her father, stepping up to her,
and kissing her forehead, '' it is the land.''
If then a white lily had suddenly taken root in the ship's
deck, shooting up a magical stalk and bursting into imme-
diate bloom by the side of Barbara, the flower would not
have looked so pure and pale as that maiden's face for one
astonished moment.
" God is good ! " she said softly, clasping her hands and
lifting her clear eyes without tears toward heaven.
Rodney, whose first solemnity of mind at his great dis-
covery had come and gone before the rest of the family had
joined him on deck, was now almost beside himself with
frolic. So much electricity shot through his blood that
his fingers tingled to their tips. He waved his hands in
salutation to the friendly shore ; he caught up Beaver by
the forepaws, and trotted that rheumatic patriarch round
on his hind feet ; he burst forth into singing a German
student's song ; he played the madcap with Barbara,
swinging her arms in a game of love-ribbon ; and at last
he sat down on the deck by Mary's chair, took her hand in
his, and kissed it.
Beaver evidently regarded the distant object as some
great squatting duck or petrel, which the captain was
about to shoot, and which the dog was preposterously
expected to nip hold of and lug back to the ship.
Jezebel stood looking at the gleaming white line of sea-
beach ; her hands ignorantly lifted to shade her eyes from
the sun, though the sun was behind her ^and after gaz-
ing long and lovingly, burst out into an incredulous
laugh.
" De Ian' ?" she inquired, with an air as if she could not
be fooled by a false report (for she had so long accustomed
herself to beholding the land with her inner sight, that she
A (JLIMPSE THBOUGH A SPY-GLASS. 155
had forgotten how it appeared to the natural eye). ^^ No !
dat's not de Ian' 1 Whar's de white meetin'-housc ? whar's
de buryin'-groun' an' degraye-stones? whar's de peak-roof
on de ole Pritehard place, wid de big chimneys standin' up
among de trees ? De Ian' ? Lawks amassy, no ! "
" Yes, Jezebel," said Eodney, "that is the land."
'* What, dat little shinin' streak out dar ?" she inquired,
changing her disdain into curiosity, " Is dat de Ian' ? de
same ole Ian' what it used to be ? de place whar de birds
sing? ^whar de little chillen' go to school ? and whar de
cows come home ? Is dat ole Salem ? "
Then, with a strange rapture in her eyes and a wild
energy in her tone, she exclaimed, as if swift conviction
were working within her, " What's de good book say ?
^ Jesus sat by d& sea-side J Wonder if He's sittin' dar yet 1
Lord, here am I. Behold, I come quickly. Glory, Halle-
lujah 1 "
In uttering these words, her large frame trembled, and
she involuntarily reached forth her right hand as if expect-
ing her Lord to clasp it.
Barbara, who was the most deeply affected of all the
party, was the most mute. She hardly spoke a word ; nor,
after the first few moments, could she even see the great
spectacle distinctly for the mist in her eyes. Gold and
purple lights, such as one beholds in iridescent dreams,
dazzled her blurred fiight. The sea was calm, but her
heart was in a tumult. The breeze was gentle, but
noises as of roaring gales rushed past her ears, making a
tempest in her soul. Barbara, like Columbus, had just
discovered a new world ; and like Atlas, she was bearing
the whole weight of it at once. It was a supreme moment
with the sweet maiden, ending her girlhood forever, and
making a woman of her on the spot.
" It must be ten miles off," said Eodney.
" How shall we get to it ? " asked* Mary. "^
156 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
But to Barbara it was not ten miles off ; nor one mile ;
nor did she seek to get to the shore ^for she was already
there. She had in swift fancy glided in a moment oyer
the waters to an enchanted city. She was landing amid its
commerce-laden piers. She was treading its streets. She
was gazing at its church-spires. She was glancing at its
bazaars and shop-windows. She was saluting the busy
tlirongs of men, women, and children who came out to
take her by the hand. She was asking them where she
could find Lucy Wilmerding and no, only Lucy; she
checked herself from naming any other name.
In short, Barbara stood in a half trance surveying the
great panorama of the world, and shaping it in her fancy
exactly as she expected to find it in reality.
Rodney VaiFs first idea was that a steamer would soon
be coming to meet him, and that amid the scream of steam-
whistles, the flying of flags, and the cheers of rescuers, he
and his little band would be borne with boisterous welcome
into port. He thought he saw the smoke of such a vessel.
For an hour, he had no other plan of landing than to
wait for his convoy, and be taken ashore with music and
festivities.
" 'So convoy comes," said Barbara. "Why wait for it
longer ? Let us go right up to the land ourselves 1"
But now came a threatening accident : the chain-cable
parted.
Long contact with the salt water had gnawed like can-
ker into some of the links, and the great strain of the
vessel, while swaying in the strong current, had snapped
the rusty iron asunder.
" The ship,'' cried Eodney, "is once again adrift.'*
"Father," exclaimed Barbara, "this is delightful 1
We shall soon be there ! See how fast we go 1 "
" My child," replied the anxious man, " there is danger
of breakers danger of rocks danger of stranding dan-
A GLIMPSE THBOUGH A SPY-GLASS. 157
ger of swamping danger of death from the very land to
which we have been looking forward for newness of life ! "
" What are the dangers ? " asked Barbara. ^^ I see none.
I see only the beautiful land, and we are rushing right
straight to it 1 "
"Barbara/^ cried Rodney, *^run haste ^bring me the
lead-line." ^
Dr. Vail hove the lead and found the water suddenly
shoaling.
"I must get the other anchor ready,'' he cried, "or we
shall run aground."
Leaping to the starboard cathead, he cut loose the fasten-
ings which kept his spare anchor in its place, lowered it
slowly into the water^ about five fathoms, held it fast at
that length, and allowed the Coromandel to drift toward
the shore.
"Barbara," he exclaimed, "watch the lead-line as I
heave it call out the fathoms."
Whereupon he hove the lead again and again, and his
daughter reported the depth shoaling up from nineteen
fathoms to twelve, and from twelve to seven.
'^ look at those wonderful white waves ! " cried Bar-
bara, pointing toward the shore. "See how they roll
and break ! Hear how they sing 1 "
There was first a rough and boisterous line of breakers,
full of threat and menace, whitening all the low beach,
and roaring like enraged lions ready to tear the ship to
pieces. Just beyond these bellowing billows was a long
and slender arm of sand or tapering shoal, stretching
out half a mile or more in length, but hardly rising to
a man's height above the sea-level. Beyond this break-
water was a smooth inlet, hardly ruffled by a breath.
"Yonder tranquil cove," cried Eodney, "will be a
harbor- of safety, if the ship can shoot into it and anchor
there I "
158 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
The Coromandel rapidly drifted shoreward, head to the
wind as usual ; for when she broke from her anchorage,
the water-drag voluntarily changed its place from the stem
to the bow.
The general current was from east to west, but when it
reached the southern point of the bar, it turned abruptly
northward and followed the land up into the coye.
Eodney Vail shortened the chain from five fathoms to
three.
^^ If I anchor close in shore, just off this point, '^ said
he, ^* the ship must swing round into the smooth water
beyond."
His approach was as gentle as the current itself, and as
swift. He soon found himself rcmnding the southern
point, within pistol-shot of the shore then bending
northward through the sheet of sheltered, unruffled, yet
fast-flowing water and then approaching another point
which shelved out before him about half a mile distant.
It was between these two points that Nature had indented
the cove which he had already discovered from a distance,-
making a tranquil refuge against the neighboring sea.
Eodney now stood at the anchor, and Barbara made the
soundings.
"How many fathoms ?" he asked.
'^ Four and a half," she replied.
" How many now ?"
"Four."
" And now ? "
"Three and a half."
Hauling up the anchor a few feet further, Eodney re-
solved to drift still nearer in, before he chose his mooriiigs.
At this moment the water began to deepen.
"Four fathoms," shouted Barbara.
" Try again," said her father.
" Five."
A GLIMPSE THBOtJGH A SPY-GLASS. 159
"Quick, again !"
"Four/'
"And now?"
" Three fathoms ! "
'^Any change ?''
" Two and a half 1"
Just then the anchor touched bottom the ship made a
slow half-ctrcle round the almost perpendicular chain, like
a door on its hinge the water-drag sagged sternward
and the long Toyage came to an end 1
As Admiral Drake, after circumnavigating the globe,
knelt with pride to receire knighthood from Queen Eliza-
beth, so Eodney Vail walked to the companion way where
Mary sat in her chair, took off his hat, knelt at her feet,
and received her white hand on his head.
"0 Rodney!" she exclaimed, "we shall once more
tread our, native land. What a day this is ! And to think
that we have all lived to see it ! "
Mary's pale face grew bright with emotion.
" Yes," said Jezebel, who looked on with undisturbed
quietude, " de Lord is better to us dan to de prophets
and kings, for dey desired to see but died widout de
sight."
Barbara, without speaking, was as restless as a mouse
waiting to be let out of a trap.
"Now for sober second thought," said Rodney, who
leaned over the ship's rail with glass in hand, to think out
a scheme for getting ashore.
"The people," said Barbara, "can easily come to us
here. Let us be ready to meet them. But, mother, we
look like frights."
The fastidious maiden then proposed that they should
dress themselves with suitable magnificence to meet their
expected guests.
" Law, chile," said Je^^b^l; with whom great things
160 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
never displaced small, " let us hab de breakfast all ober
fust, before de company comes. '^
Eodney VaiPs observations convinced him that he had
reached a small island either lying somewhere in a general
ocean current, or else swept at that time by a strong flood-
tide. " Or," said he, ^^ both these surmises may be true.
It may be that the perpetual current is just now accelerated
by the periodic tide. At all events, I notice 'that while
the general sea-drift has been from east to west, yet here
is a strong stream, like a tide-way, flowing northeast up
into the cove. If our* ship were not anchored, she would
go ashore yonder among those green trees." And he
pointed to a shady grove by the water's brink.
*^ Well, let us go there at once ! " said the eager girl.
Eodney reflected that if this stream were a flood-tide,
subject to an ebb, he would by and by be swayed back
again beyond the sandy point. So he immediately paid
out the entire length of his cable and drifted up the cove
so near to its western shore that he could have tossed
a sea-biscuit to a jutting rock, overhung by cocoa-nut-
trees.
He then hauled the water-drag to the side of the ship,
took off his coat and shoes, coiled a small rope on deck so
that it would easily run off, tied one end of it to a hawser
and the other around his waist, got down upon the water-
drag, drifted with it as on a raft up the cove into the shal-
low water, and stepped ashore.
Beaver accompanied his master.
Once on the land, which was a new and thrilling sensa-
tion for the feet both of dog and man, the man patted the
dog in congratulation, and received from that shaking
piece of dripping shagginess a shower of sparkling drops.
Eodney Vail then pulled toward him the small rope
attached to the hawser, hauled the hawser ashore, and
fastened it round the foot of a tree.
A GLIMPSE THBOUGH A SPY-GLASS. 161
Moored thus at bow and stern, the fillip would be safe
and snug for either tide.
This done, the mariner drew a long breath, swept one
eager glance about the. shore, scooped up a double handful
of the pebbly sand, gazed at it as a gold-miner gazes at a
rich quartz, kissed it, and exclaimed,
" And so this is Mother Earth 1 I love her I bless her
I caress lier. How my little family yearn to step on her
sands, her rocks, her turf. They shall have this happi-
ness at once.'' '
Then, hurrying along the beach towards the cove's
mouth. Dr. Vail leaped into the water and swam with the
tide to the ship.
Once again on the deck, and dripping like the dog, he
exclaimed,
^^ This is the greatest day in the histoiy of the world.
Barbara, beautify it with colors I Bring out all our flags 1
Set every ribbon spangling in the sun ! '*
Barbara hoisted an old well-worn American flag, but not
quite to the top of the staff.
*^ Higher I" exclaimed Rodney. "That is half-mast.
K"o mourning to-day 1 No signal of distress in this proud
hour ! "
The ship was straightway clad in Joseph's coat of many
colors.
" What shall we do next ? " asked Mary.
*^ Why, next," said Eodney, excitedly, "let us eat Jezebel's
breakfast. Is it ready ? I have the appetite of a Carib."
Descending into the cabin, he brought up one of the
few remaining bottles of Mr. Jansen's sherry (which had
greatly improved with years and travel), and, filling a
glass, proposed as a toast suitable to the great occasion,
"Our God, our country, and ourselves," which for the
comprehensiveness of the sentiment, and the excellence of
the wine, could hardly be surpassed.
162 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
* ^ Why don't the people come to meet us ? " asked Barbara.
*' It is too early in the day," replied her father. ^^ Peo-
ple in civilized countries sleep long o' mornings. They
were probably up late last night at their balls and mas-
querades. It is only the virtuous and unfortunate, like
ourselves, who rise early.''
After breakfast, Dr. Vail rigged a basket to roll along
the hawser, forming a car such as he had seen used for
fences across mountain-gorges in Europe.
At 10 A.M. Mary and Barbara were ferried to the land ;
but Jezebel (a sort of FalstafE, only wiser) could not be
tempted into the basket.
*^No," said she, **dis ole woman is too fat. What if de
rope break ? Ole Bel don't want to be steeped into de
floods any more. Enough ob de Lord's deep waters hab
rolled ober her already."
Then on second thought she added,
" If you see my boy Pete, tell him I is waitin' here for
him to come."
The landscape was not remarkable in itself, but had a
strange novelty to the eyes that then surveyed it ; for of
the three persons who stood on it as spectators, two were
beholding the solid earth for the first time in seventeen
years, and the other for the first time in her life.
" This place," said Barbara, looking round at the scene,
awe-struck by it, '^ is Wonder Land itself."
They began to walk about, and Barbara, though never
awkward before, was now unexpectedly at a loss to know
Avhat to do with her feet there was such strange footing
under them !
^*0 I I can't walk over these rough stones," said she.
Her father and mother could not help smiling at her
timid and comical tread, stepping as if she feared at every
moment to sink through the surface, just as she would
have done in the water.
A GLIMPSE THBOUGH A SPY-GLASS. 163
Even Venus, who like Barbara was bom amid the sea,
and who like Barbara was wafted to the land, was proba-
bly also like Barbara a little surprised and bewildered at put-
ting her heavenly feet for the first time on earthly ground.
Mrs. Vail took Barbara by the hand, and led her a little
way into some luxuriant grass, through which the maiden
waded like a penguin in a marsh, or a pelican among the
reeds.
" You may remain here and rest," said Rodney to Mary
and Barbani, " and I will go forward and explore our new
kingdom."
Dr. Vail turned away, leaving his wife and daughter
sitting under a shady tree.
*^ 0," cried Barbara, ^' it is all so strange ! It is so un-
like what I expected ! Mother, are you sure that this is
reality ? Is that the Coromandel ? "
Barbara was quite as much astonished at the appearance
of the ship as of the land, for she had never before seen
the Coromandel from the outside, not even on the day
when she fell overboard, for then her terror at the accident,
and her blindness caused by her hair falling over her eyes,
had prevented her from seeing the ship.
"I never suspected," said Barbara," "that the Coroman-
del was so narrow, long, and low ; for she always seemed
so high, wide, and deep."
A stinging sensation now crept into Barbara's feet, for
her shoes had filled with sand, and the little sharp grains
audaciously pricked her tender flesh. Noisy, tropical in-
sects hummed about her, and their sounds seemed like
the same sand-grains entering her ears. Little brown snipe
flitted here and liere the same cheery creatures that her
father had seen in the morning. Moss-clad rocks lay
round her, as if Nature had first tumbled them down in
great profusion, and then to heal their cuts and gashes had
mantled them in green.
164 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
"This scene," said Barbara, "makes me think of
Arcadia of Arden of Elysium. Mother, you remember
how Shakespeare speaks of tongues in trees ? Hark, these
trees are whispering over our heads. I wonder what they
are saying ? "
" I am more curious," said her mother, " to know what
is the language of this country whether the people
speak English, French, Spanish, or what."
Dr. Vail had meanwhile discovered a hill, sloping down
on one side to the east, and on the other to the west.
After a few minutes' walk, he reached the top and found
himself at a commanding point of prospect. One glance
from the summit showed him that the island was of very
small compass. Its whole coast-line could not have been
more than two miles in one direction and a milain another.
It was shaped like a horse-shoe, and the Coromandel lay
in the bend. It had no other ship nor harbor. There was
no city, no town, no village, no house, no hut, no sign of
human beings save the new-comers themselves. ' Some
other fragments of land, few and small, lay scattered in
the watery distance and appeared even more diminutive
than the isle on which he stood. He said to himself with
a grim sense of isolation,
" This is Alexander Selkirk's lone spot."
A flock of white-breasted sea-gulls flew past.
" you social companions," he cried, addressing them,
" I am acquainted with you all ! Your brethren and I
have met on the great deep ! You are gathered to your
tribes. When shall / mingle with my fellow-men ? "
Returning to his wife and daughter, he was eagerly
saluted by both.
" Father," cried Barbara, "have you met the inhabi-
tants ? What language do they speak ? What shall we
say to them ? How do they look ? What country is this ?
AVhy don't you answer my questions ? "
A GLIMPSE THROUGH A SPY-GLASS. ' 165
'^ My child," replied her father, deliberately, "I have
met the inhabitants. They are of our own race ; they all
speak English ; they are by nature white-skinned and fair,
but at ppesent are badly sunburnt. In short, they are our-
selves.''
'^ What ! " exclaimed the girl. ^^ And is this great coun-
try without inhabitants ? Where, then, is Lucy Wilmer-
ding ? And where is ^" but she checked herself.
Her father supposed that she was alluding to his friend
Oliver Chantilly.
"I have always believed," said Rodney, ^^that Oliver
was on the ocean searching for the Coromandl. If so,
then perhaps we are farther from him now than when we
were in Capricorn."
Looking toward the sky. Dr. Vail noticed (hit it threat-
ened a shower.
" Oome with me to the top of yonder hill,*' said he,
*^ before the clouds shut out the prospect."
The view was beautiful, and would have been impressive
to any eyes, for it included all the sky and half the sea,
yet the stretch of land was diminutive. But it was huge
to Barbara. Having never seen any land before, except
the few square inches of soil within the rim of her geranium-
pot, she thought the pigmy isle a continent. It realized
her conception of size. It seemed, in some strange way,
to be wider than the horizon that bounded it. Then, too,
she was higher in the air than ever before, and this was an
exhilaration. She saw the s*hip lying dwarfed at her feet,
and this was a curiosity. She saw three other islands at a
distance, and these renewed in her the sensations which she
had felt when she first descried, in the morning, the land
on which she now stood. She saw, too, and gathered with
her own hands, the plantain, the pine-apple, and the orange
all growing wild and this was an intoxication.
^^ After all," exclaimed Barbara, with beaming eyes.
166 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
"although I miss the human race and the cities which
they have built, yet everything else is here. The land is
clothed with bewitching beauty. The earth's green is
lovelier than the sky's blue."
The clouds with stately speed rushed together toward the
zenith, and shed a few great drops which, as they fell
through the sunshine, were painted with a rainbow. This
was one of the long-familiar sights to the ocean wanderers,
and made them feel as if at home again on the deep.
" Mary," said Dr. Vail, " let us seek a covert in yonder
grove."
The travelers, in starting down the hill toward a cluster
of trees, neglected to notice that they were going toward
the west, not toward the east ; in other words, that they
were getting farther and farther from the ship.
Hardly had they sheltered themselves under the leafy roof
than the torrent beat upon it over their headfl like arrows
against an embossed shield.
^ *^How thick this shade is, and how dark!" said Bar-
bara.
They walked about in it as in a twilight at mid-day.
"What is that?" suddenly exclaimed the keen-eyed
maiden, pointing to a low wooden structure that stood amid
the trees, and was overrun with vines.
The travelers gazed at it with great curiosity.
"It is a house," said Rodney, "a human habitation;
but it looks as ancient as Time itself."
Approaching nearer. Dr. Vail descried through the mant-
ling foliage, which enveloped the building, two closed
windows and a closed door between them, all partly hidden
by the overgrowth of vines. Then a peaked and moss-
grown roof became partly visible. At last, as Dr. Vail
stepped in front of the structure, a figure of a cross, carved
in dark wood, and clad with lichens, revealed itself over
the door.
A GLIMPSE THROUGH A SPY-GLASS. 16?
^' This is a Catholic country," said Mary, ^^and we shall
find Christian hospitality. "
Inspired by a sudden hope of human welcome, the pil-
grims drew near the house, mounted a great stone which
served as a door-step, and knocked at the door.
^^0 Mary," exclaimed Rodney, in a low voice, "how
many years have passed since you and I have stood at the
door of anybody's house ! "
They all breathlessly awaited a reponse from within, but
the only sound was of the increasing wind that roared over
their heads, creaking in the branches.
'^ I think that this strange building," whispered Mary,
looking up at the antique cross, "must be a Hermit's
Chapel."
CHAPTER XIL
GOLGOTHA.
THE visitors at the Hermit's Chapel found ^neither a
chapel nor a hermit; yet Mrs. VaiPs guess, though
not right, was not wrong ; for the building had at one time
been a chapel, and at another a hermitage.
^^ As we are in the West Indies," said Dr. Vail, " perhaps
this ancient structure is a memorial of the early Spanish or
French adventurers ; wherever they foraged they carried
the cross they were robbers and churchmen."
Dr. Vail and his companions had landed among the Carib-
bee Islands, on one of the hundred or more specks in the
sea which are called the Grenadines, borrowing their dimin-
utive name from their proximity to the Isle of Grenada.
The whole hundred, stretching out like beads on a string,
make a rosary sixty miles long. The largest of the group
is not larger than a nobleman's country-seat. The few
that have names look on the map like grains of sand ; the
rest dwindle into anonymous insignificance, or hide them-
selves altogether from the navigator's chart.
It was on one of these broken bits of mother earth ^un-
named, uncharted, and unknown that the Coromandel
was cast.
The history of this fragment of sea-girdled rock has been
blotted into oblivion, but can be rewritten in a passing
word. The early European explorers of the Spanish Main
found the tall, brave Caribs practising a strange and cun-
168
GOLGOTHA. 169
ning art the curing of meat by red-drying without salt.
Thus cured, the flesh of the wild swine, with which the
islands abounded, possessed a market value as a n,ovel article
of commerce. The cured meat was called by the Caribs
^^boucan ; " from which the meat-curers became known in
French as " boucaniers," and in English as ^^ buccaneers."
These early meat-packers were not marauders ; their "buc-
caneering '' was an honest business. The term " buccaneer-
ing" now used as a synonym for "piracy," did not acquire
this thievish significance until many years later ; that, is,
not till after the early race of swine had been exterminated,
leaving the meat-packers no more meat to pack, and tempt-
ing them to earn a livelihood by pillaging ships.
The early buccaneers in other words, the meat-mar-
keters, not the ship-plunderers were a secret order, oath-
bound. In those days the Spaniards, claiming all the West
Indies by right of discovery, tried to keep off all other
foreigners from the Spanish islands, settlements and
trading-posts. This exclusion of the French, English, and
Danish adventurers from Spanish ground led them to cast
their lot among the boar-hunters of the wilder islai^ds.
They thus, became buccaneers. When they increased in
number, so as to be important enough to be persecuted by
the Spanish power, they organized themselves into a league
of defence, called the Brethren of the Coast, an order
something like the Free Masons or Odd Fellows, only in
a rude and crude form, and having often a bloody purpose.
This league had its English headquarters in Tortugas,
and its French at St. Kitt's. Its laws were unwritten, but not
unexecuted. Its members had all things in common ; its
villages and communities were without locks and bolts on
any doors. One of its distinguishing features was a close
partnership between two comrades, by which each man had
a mate to whom he made oath of fidelity each binding
himself to help the other at all risks each dividing with
170 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
the other his last crust (and particularly his first and
every bottle) ^the living partner to bury the dead with
Cliristian rites and the survivor to inherit in fee-simple
the joint property of both.
The little island to which the Coromandel had come had
been in former days a bivouac of the Brethren of the
Coast.
The sudden rain that drove Eodney Vail's party to the
Hermit's Chapel continued to fall as the weather-bound
pilgrims stood waiting at the door ; but the over-hanging
trees, interlaced with vines, made a green roof over their
heads, and protected them from the descending floods.
^' These trees,'' said Eodney, '^ are lignum vitae, and may
bo centuries old."
^^ Yonder cross, then," suggested Mary, *^the holy
image of the tree of life, is fitly carved in wood of that
name."
Eodney noticed that the threshold of the rude and
antique building was worm-eaten and rotten, and yet the
iron-like wood of the consecrated symbol was without any
vestige of decay, save the lichens and moss that grew under
its outstretched arms, where the pausing rain-drops now
hung like beads.
" Mother, why does not some one answer our knock ?"
asked Barbara in a whisper, feeling a sensation of mingled
curiosity, impatience, and dread.
" My daughter," replied her mother in a low voice, " per-
haps the hermit is at his prayers."
The suggestion of a kneeling worshiper at his devotions
was awe-inspiring to Mrs. Vail, and she pictured an aged
patriarch thus bowed within the hut.
Eodney, who indulged in no such imaginings, was
rapidly making up his mind that the house was without a
tenant, and the isle without an inhabitant.
Walking back from the door-step to survey the structure
GOLGOTHA. 171
all round, he noticed that it was a small, oblong house,
with a peaked roof, two windows and a door in front, two
windows in the rear, and nothing on the sides except
clustering ivies and other vines that hid the walls from view.
^^'It is deserted," said Rodney ; ^^ probably no one has
been near it for years ; there is no beaten path to the door ;
the windows are barricaded with shutters ; the vines are as
wild as those of a wilderness. Let me try the lock.''
But on stepping forward to the door, he found no lock,
nothing but a mouldy remnant of what had been a large
wooden knob, which, as he grasped it, broke ofE in his
hand.
This accident startled him, for any token of extreme
decay about a human habitation associates itself impres-
sively with man's own mortality.
"Perhaps," said Dr. Vail, "the door is locked on the
inside."
But on examination he found no trace of a key-hole.
"Then," said he, "the door is not locked at all."
** Do not open it ! " exclaimed Mary, who felt an inde-
finable dread.
"Father," said Barbara, "do not go in, for the cross
shows that this structure is a tomb, a sepulchre.'*
" My child," replied her father, "tombs and sepulchres
are not built of wood, like living menu's houses ; this is not
a sepulchre it is a dwelling-house."
Saying which, he pressed both hands against the door,
and pushing it with all his might, burst it from its fasten-
ings, and it fell inward, flat on the ground, with no little
noise and scattering of dust.
Suddenly out through the open space ran a terrified
lizard, followed helter-skelter by a few musty mice, and by
a panic-stricken army of centipedes, black beetles, and
innumerable insects creeping and crawling in every direc-
tion.
172 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
This loathsome spectacle startled the two women, par-
ticularly Mrs. Vail.
^* horror 1 " she exclaimed, '* it is a house of corruption.''
^^ Stand here on the doorstep," said Rodney, ^^ and let
me enter alone."
Dr. Vail stepped across the damp and rotten threshold,
and' saw a sight that shook his nerves.
*^In Heaven's name, what are these? "he whispered,
not speaking aloud for fear of alarming his companions.
Before him lay a row of human skulls.
They were placed in careful order, each on a separate
pedestal of lignum vitae, about half a yard apart, eleven in
number, making altogether a ghastly line reaching across
the charnel-house.
There were no skeletons or bones ; nothing but these
heads ; bare and bleached ; quietly awaiting the Day of
Judgment.
Dr. Vail shrank from the ghastly spectajle, and stag-
gered back into the daylight.
^^ What did you see ? " asked Mary, who noticed a strange
pallor on his face.
^^Let me look again," said he; whereupon, without
making further answer, he re-entered this Golgotha*
Gazing now more composedly than before, he contem-
plated the scene with deep emotion.
^* Never," thought he, ^^ never did I di'eam that after
my long absence from my fellow-men, my first returning
glimpse of them would be of their unburied skulls.
my brethren, I come to you, and you receive me not ! I
salute you, and you greet me not ! Ah, dumb tongues
that cannot tell your own tale, were you too a ship's com-
pany of wanderers cast away on this desolate shore ? Who-
ever you are, forgive the intrusion of a stranger, and let
me loiter a moment among you as among long-lost, new-
found friends."
GOLGOTHA. 173
Dr. Vail noticed that each skull bore a faded and dim
inscription on its forehead in Spanish^ the first that he
deciphered running as follows :
** Soy Carlos Barrado
un Ave Maria j un Padre
Neustro por Dios, hermano."
After he had slowly picked out the almost obliterated
words, he turned them into English, repeating in a low
voice, as if giving the dead a muffled tongue :
"I am Carlos Barrado; for God's sake, brother, an
Ave Maria and a Paternoster."
Glancing in quick succession at all the skulls, he ob-
served that each had a different name, but otherwise the
same inscription.
Looking round the strange place, he saw no altar, no
churchly furniture, no object of any kind, sacred or com-
mon ; nothing save these death's-heads.
^^Eodney, my dear husband, why do you stay so
long ? " cried his wife, from the outside. " Come back ! "
"Father, what have you seen ?" asked Barbara, as he
obeyed her mother's summons.
'* I have seen," he replied, " what I have not looked
upon before for nearly twenty years Death."
Barbara gave a start almost a leap ; for of all her ex-
pectations of novel sights on the land, death was not one ;
the solemn end of life had no place in her new beginning
of it.
"Who is dead?" she exclaimed. "Is it Lucy Wil-
merding ? Or is it ?"
Barbara was on the point of mentioning another name,
but checked herself, and simply added,
" No, it cannot be !"
On second thought, she impulsively rushed into the
.
VJ*
. 174: TEMPEST-TOSSED.
charnel-house as if to rescue Lucy or a still more precious
and imperiled victim from a mortal fate.
Mrs. Vail followed her ; and father, mother and daugh-
ter together surveyed the skulls.
'* My child," said her father, *^you were right in guess-
ing that this is a burial-place. I never saw one like it.
Had I known what was inside this house before breaking
open the door, I would never have lifted my hand to dis-
turb these sleepers. Let us retire from this tomb. It
belongs to other tenants than ourselves. Quite soon
enough we shall each have a sepulchre of our own, from
which our feet can never depart/'
Emerging from the antique house of the dead, the trav-
elers welcomed the open air again, even though it was
laden with a rainy mist.
In the Caribbee Islands, showers at noon are common
toward the end of May, coming quickly and clearing in an
hour or two. During a week or fortnight the rain comes
and goes spasmodically, before finally settling into the
steady flood that constitutes the rainy June and July.
The dry season steps cat-f ootedly into the wet.
The shower, that had fallen upon the exiles with such
fierceness, was of short duration ; and, in a few moments,
a sudden sunbeam pierced the grove.
" Where shall we go now ? " inquired Barbara.
*^To the ship," answered Rodney; and they wended
their way through the dripping trees and watery grass in
search of the cove. The road was rough, difficult and
tiresome. The sun came out, hot and oppressive. A
calm settled on the sea. Stillness reigned over the green
landscape. Not a leaf stirred.
Barbara, who was yet in her pupilage in the art of walk-
ing on the uneven soil, fought her way awhile through the
t paths, full of rough stones and sharp briars, and soon
vplained of fatigue.
xiri\
GOLGOTHA. 175
^'Let US sit and rest/' said she. "Why should we
haste ? This is our first day on the land ; let us make it
a long one ! ''
Dr. Vail looked about for a resting-place. He found
one in the shadow of some scattered trees. It was a ledge
of rock which, with a few detached boulders, gave the tired
explorers a choice of adamantine cushions the same choice
which Jacob had of pillows when he slept at Bethel.
" Where is Beaver ? " asked Barbara, who had once be-
fore spoken of the dog's absence, and now lifted her voice
and called him ; but Beaver did not come.
" Beaver feels his liberty," remarked Rodney. "Lot
him enjoy it. He will not be lost ! "
Beaver had been nosing in the water, and been nipped
by a crab. This was a new sensation to a dog accustomed
to receive respect, and gave him an unpleasant impression
of the world. He accordingly had gone swimming back
to the Coromandel in disgust.
At length the travelers reached the cove where the ship
lay.
Barbara, who knew her mother's feebleness and feared
the results of over-exertion, said to her,
" Mother dear, if you walk more to-day you will not be
able to stir a step to-morrow. Besides, Jezebel has been
deserted long enough. Father, please go on board with
mother, but let me stay a little while on shore to roam
about alone."
Mrs. Vail at first demurred to this, but when Barbara
urged it, her mother reflected how much she would be
withholding from her child to deny it, and assented
graciously.
Barbara was thus left alone on the island ; no human
foot touching its soil save her own.
"So this," said she, drawing a long breath, "this is
the world, and I am in it at last ! Is it possible that I am
176 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
out of my prison and am free ? Let me then haye a taste
of my freedom all to myself 1 "
To make her escape from bondage all the more mani-
fest, she walked back from the shore out of sight of the
ship, and sauntered at will into any and erery path that
lured her feet. Nor did she think of marking her way
of return, for having never had any experience of getting
lost, she thought of no precaution against going astray.
As she walked along she gazed with soul-lit eyes at
everything she passed ; at the billowy waves of the land,
which she still kept expecting to see move and roll like
the hillocks of the sea ; at the fruits which she plucked
and ate, none being forbidden as in the first Eden ; at the
brilliant butterflies, more lustrous than the few stray yel-
low-wings that had fluttered across the Coromandel's deck
at sea; at the many pui-ple-breasted birds that had no
webbed feet and never dipped their wings into the salt
waves ; and at the beautiful snakes, harmless and graceful,
and as bright as Madame D^Arblay's neck-ribbohs of
watery-green.
'^ 0, what wonderful colors ! " exclaimed the girl look-
ing at the flowers that had been freshened by the rain.
She toyed affectionately with the buds, yet shrank from
breaking their stems.-
" They are alive," said Barbara, ^^ and if I pluck them
they will die. Let them live. Life must be sweet to
all living things. Perhaps a flower's life is sweeter to it-
self than its own fragrance can be to any other creature.
These roses are fragile enough at best, and short-lived
why should I destroy them before their time ? '^
Barbara was the more impelled to this conviction be-
cause, having seen the butterflies first and the flowers
afterward, she fancifully regarded the flowers as another
species of butterflies which might at any moment lift their
"^s and fly off their stalks.
GOLGOTHA. 177
In the midst of the variegated scene, Barbara was bewil-
dered and delighted, but not satisfied.
^* No," said she, " I am not content ; this is enchant-
ment and yet disenchantment. It is not the wgrld I
sought to enter. It gives me no human society. 0, if
Lucy Wilmerding were only here ! that, like her, I
could go among my fellow-creatures ! But perhaps God
keeps me back from entering the real world because I am
not fit to mingle with it because I might not know how
to act if I were in it. Possibly I am such a ^ sea-mew ' (as
my mother calls me) that I ought always to live on the
waters. Of course I cannot be Lucy Wilmerding, yet why
was I made if I am to be nothing at all ? "
Barbara spoke these thoughts aloud. This was her cus-
tom in soliloquy. She had never cultivated reticence
or repression, except concerning one solitary name and
theme.
"After all," she exclaimed, " the world, whether on sea
or land, is more full of sunshine than of cloud ; and this is
a sign that the soul also should have more peace than pain.
It shall be so with this heart of mine."
Barbara then rallied herself to one more effort against
disappointment an effort to realize, if not all, at least a
part of her day-dreams of the land of Beulah.
They who expect the most from the world are they who
have had the least experience of it.
Barbara, whose lifetime had yielded no experience of it
at all, knew not which of its wonders to seek for first. In
her simplicity, she actually found herself looking for Mt.
Blanc, with its crown of eternal snow ; for Niagara, with
its everlasting song ; for the Mississippi's stream, with its
ribbon of silver ; for the solemn-throated Vesuvius, belch-
ing up its flame ; for the cattle on a thousand hills, that
she saw forever browsing in her fancy ; for the camel under
the' palm-tree ; for the deer drinking at the mountai"
178 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
brook ; for the apple-blooms of Pritcbard farm ; for the
primrose, the violet, the daisy, the aster, the golden rod ;
for all these and a thousand other sights gr^t and small
did Barbara look about her ; but instead of finding them
out-spread in beautiful array before her eyes, she ominously
beheld the afternoon sun declining into a fit emblem of
her morning's hopes.
^' Now I must return/' said she, ^^ for the day is fleeting
away."
Attempting to retrace her steps, she did not know the
way back. She wandered first in one direction, then in
another, never getting into the old paths, but only into
new. She was in a labyrinth, and a lengtlieniug shadow
was creeping over it to hide all clews of return. The
thickets tore her dress ; the branches caught her hair ;
the stones bruised her feet. She often stumbled and some-
times fell. '
" Oh, how rough the path is I " she exclaimed, *^ how
thorny, how distressing ! "
Barbara was beginning life in earnest, and at every suc-
cessive hour the present reality seemed more and more a
mockeiy of her previous ideal. Still the lovely maiden was
not a babe. Like all children of the tropics, she had devel-
oped early both in body and character, and was now stout
of heart and sinewy of frame. So she went on through
the thickets as the ship had gone through the sea ^without
chart or helm ^lost but not harmed.
" Why do my hands burn ? " she exclaimed, alarmed at
a strange sensation in her finger-tips.
Barbara had here and there trailed her fingers gently
along a pink-stemmed vine with dark leaves, and this
creeper had returned her graciousness by poisoning her
hand, till it was now swollen with pain.
Then a cloud rose out of the sea, covered tlie west, hid
"'^ ~in, grew red with a glory unutterable, paled, faded.
GOLGOTHA. 179
and left a twilight in which the stars began to peep forth
one by one.
" Where is the ship ? " sighed the pilgrim. ^^ Am I near-
ing the cove or going away from it ? Ala, I cannot tell."
Looking for a hill to climb, there seemed now to be noth-
ing but a rolling country with no particular knoll higher
than another. She saw the ocean that was plain enough ;
so was the sky ; but she could not discover the cove nor
the Coromandel.
^^0, which is the way back ?" exclaimed the bewildered
maiden.
Another cloud arose, not in the west, but in the east,
just as in the forenoon. First there came with it a swift
breeze ; then a few drops of rain ; then a stronger puff of
wind ; then a heavier dash of rain ; then lightning, first
far off, then with loud thunder crackling near by ; and at
last a pouring flood the moming^s deluge over again
Nature's second experiment in bringing on the rainy
season.
/^ To what refuge, '^ she cried, ^^can I flee ? ''
Barbara escaped into a thicket of dense, old trees, and
sat down on a fallen trunk that was covered with lichens
and moss.
The weather-beaten girl had been in storms before, but
she then had human companionship ^the friendliest which
all the world could offer to her. Now she was alone and
fall of fear. Alone ! This was a sensation that she had
never before experienced. Never for a day or a night had
she been separated from her parents until now. And now
she was simultaneously overtaken by three grim terrors
night, tempest, and solitude.
^^0; I am sick at heart ! " murmured the lonely child.
Her feet were blistered, her hands were full of poisonous
pain, and her heart panted with anxiety at the distress
which she knew her. parents would feel at her absence.
180 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
'* 0, my dear father and mother, what will you do with-
out your daughter, and what will your daughter do without
you ? ''
Just then the wind opened the hranches aboTe her head,
and let the rain down upon her.
She rose hastily and groped her way still further under
the trees to the denser foliage. She staggered forward
until she could see nothing at all. It was pitch dark. No
rain fell on her now not a drop. The ground itself was
not even wet -only cool enough to be almost cold. The
chills ran from her body into her soul. Where was she ?
Barbara wept bitterly.
During the past few years, Barbara had borne many sor-
rows, yet she had shed few tears. Unused were her eyes
to such dews. Fire was plentiful in them ; sparkles were
there often ; mirth glittered in them on occasion ; loye shone
in them always ; but tears were rare guests in those blue orbs.
^^ how my head reels ! how my temples throb ! '^ she cried.
Weakness, faintness and drowsiness oppressed her flesh
and spirit. Her mind began to wander. She fancied the
ship gone away and her parents gone also, so that they
would never come for her. Her wild thoughts wearily
ranged from one dreadful image to another, until in her
unknown shelter, lying on the breast of Mother Earth,
she at last, like a fretful infant that sobs itself to rest, fell
asleep.
Poor Barbara's eyes, once shut, were locked too tight to
be opened by the shimmering heat-lightnings that played
round the sky, and that pierced the grove with momentary
luridness.
But well was it for her that no fitful gleam revealed to
her the ghastly chamber in which -she was lying! Well
was it that she had no suspicion of her place of rest !
Well was it that she knew not in what grim company she
^ept 1 For Barbara had hideous and unknown compan-
GOLGOTHA. 181
ions. They stayed with her during all her slumber, yet
did not waken her ; they did not awake themselves ; they
slept a still sounder sleep than hers. They were the eleven
human skulls !
Barbara was fast asleep in the Hermit's Chapel.
Poor Barbara, take your rest 1 Dear tired maiden, sleep
awhile ! do not open your eyes too soon ! not until the
storm is over-past ! Poor heart-broken, sleep-comforted
Barbara I Heaven protect you in your loneliness and in-
nocence !
Soon a fire-fly flew in, bearing his lighted lamp ; then
another followed ; then another.
These were the West Indian fire-flies that rank among
the wonders of the world ; the same burning and shining
lights which Basil Einggrove found among those islands in
the days of the buccaneers, declaring in his journal that a
cluster of these glow-worms at night, on a branch or twig,
seemed to him like a beacon-fire in the woods, and that
even a single one of them, if put under a wine-glass in his
ship's cabin, gave him light enough to write his notes ; the
same torch-bearers which Gosse, the entomologist, describes
as carrying each on his back two lights like the bull's-eyes
of a ship's deck, emitting a vivid greenish and'^golden
splendor ; the same insects which Latrelle, the naturalist,
measured an inch in length, and found so fieiy that a
handful hung in a glass globe would illumine a chapel for
vespers.
, In the West Indies, no night can be dark when these
lamp-lighters take a freak to illumine it. While Barbara
slept, the fire-flies, having been roused from their lodging
in the green leaves by the pelting rain, and fleeing for shelter
elsewhere, followed their habit to fly in at an open door or
window, and thus found their way into the Hermit's Chapel,
first by twos and threes, then by dozens and scores, after-
wards by hundreds, until at last they were as numerous '
182 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
if a swarm of bees had mistaken the chapel for a hive.
They settled on the floor, on the ceiling, on the window-
sills, on the door-posts, on Barbara's sleeping form, and on
the eleven ancient skulls. Their light, proceeding from
no one point, but from all points, was without shadow. It
revealed every nook and cranny. It gilded every grain of
sand, every spider's web, every particle of floating dust.
It set the very atmosphere on fire.
The tired girl, who slept through the fierce lightnings of
heaven, slept also through these gentler lightnings of the
earth. Her face was illumined as if she were in the sun-
shine, only with an unearthly hue. She lay with her head
on her arm, sleeping a child's sleep. She looked more
dead than death, more alive than life. A swarm of the fire-
flies settled in her hair, but nothing else touched her. A
snappish toad hopped about, attempting to catch the^
gilded flies, but he respected Barbara. The green lizard,
that had fled at the opening of the door, had long since
returned, and was fast asleep on one of the skulls his back
now more green and brilliant than by day. The little
ground-mice, unaccustomed to the grefet light, and to their
human guest, were whist and mute, and dared not vent-
ure forth.
Barbara continued to sleep.
Meanwhile the rushing rain no longer poured, but only
pattered ; then no longer pattered, but only trickled ; and
at last altogether ceased.
As soon as the noise of the tempest was lulled, and the
air was still enough to convey other sounds than of the
roaring winds, there arose a strong and agonizing cry of a
human voice, shouting " Barbara !" Again, at short in-
tervals as of a minute-gun, it could be heard crying
'^ Barbara ! " Above all the strange stridulations,
screechings, ringings, pipings, and chirpings which,
^iter the rain burst forth like a chorus from beasts,
GfOLGOTHA. 183
birds, and insects, this solitary voice of hnman woe went
on exclaiming ^^ Barbara !" Conquering all other noises
it covered the whole island, penetrated the thicket, echoed
through the Hermit's Chapel, and made the very roof re-
echo the name " Barbara ! "
the piercing power of a human voice with an agoniz-
ing soul behind it lending anguish to its cry ! The sleeper
heard it, and awoke. She sat up and looked round her,
dazed.
^* Where am I ? " she cried, rubbing lier swollen eyes
with her swollen hands. ^' This strange daylight what is
it ? These shining creatures, creeping and flying about ?
what are they ? They fill the whole cabin 1 They are
all over the ship ! They are on my hands my feet my
head ! father, drive them away ! "
Brushing the night-films from her eyes, and perceiving
the skulls, she clasped her hands to her temples and
shrieked,
^^ heaven, I am in the chameUhouse ! "
She fell to the earthen floor in a swoon, and lay senseless
on the cool, damp ground clay to clay dust to dust.
Meanwhile, over the low hills, a crying voice rose fainter
and farther in the distance, until its repeated shriek be-
came a dull call, then a muffled moan, and finally a far-oflf
murmur, but always the one vain cry " Barbara ! "
4 I* t
CHAPTER XIII.
FOUNDED ON A ROCK.
BAEBARA'S parents, when they went on board the
Coi-omandel, leaving the jubilant maiden alone on
the island to enjoy her first liberty by roaming at her own ,
sweet will, little dreamed that her first day on the green
earth was to end in l hideous night, in a sepulchre, among
dead men's bones.
Jezebel, who missed Barbara, demanded the cause of
her absence, and on being informed, was filled with alarm
and solicitude.
"Massa Vail," exclaimed that rarely- worried woman,
^Mere is danger to de lamkin in dis strayin' from de flock
dis wanderin' from de fold. We must go after de lost
one. Ole Bel is agwine to start right away. Massa Vail,
put me into de basket, and tote me ashore. De Lord
won't let de rope break. Beaver, you ole rheumatiz, come
along. What's de good book say ? ^Widout are dogs.'
Now how can dogs be widout, if dey stay all de time in de
cabin, on a rug, fas' asleep ? Come, ole lazy bones, let's
go and find our dear lamb."
The old woman's energy and will, her determination to
go, and her instinct that some, peril would otherwise befall .
Barbara, impelled both Dr. Vail and his wife to join Jeze-
bel in the search, though they did not consider Barbara
exposed to any harm.
All three shortly left the ship and went ashore.
*:':\ : I 184
.*
FOUNDED ON A EOCK. 185
" Dis aint like de ole Pritchard farm," said Jezebel.
" Nobody's been attendin' to de fences ; nobody's been a
hoin' de garden ; nobody's been a puUin' up de weeds.
Everyt'ing is runnin' wild. Barbara too is runnin' wild.
Where is she ? What's de good book say ? * Lo, I am
herel' Den why aint Barbara here? Somethin' is
wrong."
Dr. Vail, who had no such apprehension, was just then
thinking, not of Barbara, but of the eleven skulls.
"jyfary," said he, *^in the bloody days when nations
were mere flocks of sheep bom to be led to the slaughter,
Tamerlane in Asia built monuments of gory heads to
fester, bleach, and grin in honor of his name. Montezuma
reared in Mexico a pyramid terraced with the heads of bis
slain foes. How singular that these two conquerors one
in the Orient, the other in the Occident separated by a
great gulf of time and history should each, in ignorance
of the other, have commemorated their butcheries by piles
of human heads I Now, in comparison with these ancient
millions of decapitated men, how insignificant in number
are the few skulls in the Hermit's Chapel. Nevertheless,
as we take a more pathetic interest in the death of one
man than of half an army, so the eleven skulls in our Gol-
gotha affect me more tenderly than if I had seen Tamer-
lane's monument or Montezuma's pyramid. The dumb
occupants of our charnel-house seem to me more alive
than dead."
^^0 Eodney,'' exclaimed Mary, shuddering, "I have
been in dread of them ever since I saw them this morn-
ing. They are before me whichever way I look. I can
see them open their eyes I can hear them rattle their
jaws and grind their teeth. They fill me with horror."
Dr. Vail put forth various conjectures concerning the
skulls. He did not know that among the early Spaniards
in the West Indies a custom prevailed of inscribing
186 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
skulls of the dead with requests for prayers for their
departed souls. The skulls, thus marked, were deposited
in some sacred resort and exposed to the pious pity of
passers-by, who, on reading the inscriptions, might per-
haps be moved to beseech heaven to grant the departed
souls a safe passage through purgatory to paradise.
Probably not for a century had any human being saluted
the little congregation of the dead in the Hermit's Chapel
till Rodney Vail broke in upon the solitude of those sad,
silent Pharisees, "forever praying, to be seen of men."
The French buccaneers and the Spanish settlers, living
always at war with each other, frequently captured not
only one another's marketable goods, such as the gold of
Panama, the pearls of Cumana^i and the boucan of San
Domingo, but also each other's church-bells, crosses, pict-
ures, altar-cloths, and other sacred gauds.
With these trophies the marauding Brethren of the
Coast built chapels for their pious hours in various out-of-
the-way places on the islands.
Some of the buccaneers have left enviable reputations
for devout strictness in the faith. For instance. Captain
Sawkins threw overboard all dice which he saw in use on
Sundays. Captain John Watling compelled his jovial crew
to keep the solemn feasts of the church. Captain De
Montro rose during a chapel service, drew his pistol on a
drunken sailor who was disturbing it, shot him dead,
ordered the corpse to be immediately removed from the
holy house, and had the reverent satisfaction of seeing the
service proceed with heightened solemnity to the e^d.
Thus was religion respected in those islands !
Mary stopped suddenly, and clung timorously to her
husband's arm.
"Look," said she, pointing between the dense trees,
"yonder is another weather-beaten and desolate house,
another burial vault. Let us go back."
FOUITDED 0:S^ A BOCK. 187
It was a small house, not unlike the other, though not
so large, and had no cross or other ornament over the
door.
"My dear husband," exclaimed his timorous wife, "do
not enter this strange house."
Rodney advanced to the door-step.
No lock was on the door, nor fastening of any kind ;
and instead of a knob, there was a richly ornamented
brass handle covered with mold---which Eodney con-
jectured to have been the handle of a sea-chest.
" 1 shall try to enter," said he.
Pushing the door with his hand, it grated harslily on
rusty hinges, and swung open with a groan, disclosing the
antique interior of a small, low dwelling-house, with
windows of stained glass.
" This also must be a chapel," said he.
He was wrong in his conjecture.
A closer scrutiny showed that the windows were frag-
ments of what had once been the great window of some
church or cathedral in another part of the world. The
original window had been broken to pieces, and some of
its brilliant bits been brought hither for resetting in three
of the four walls of this little house. The miscellaneous
jumble lost here all its ecclesiastical meaning, but presented
a kaleidoscopic medley of many lustrous lights.
On the one wall that had no window was a grotesqua and
highly-colored image of the Blessed Virgin, which evidently
had never been a church ornament, but only a ship's
figure-head.
There was a solid floor of lignum vitae, laid at some
distance above the ground.
Among the objects scattered about the room were a few
chairs of fantastic pattern, each unlike the others ; a round
table of European workmanship ; and a solid chest inlaid
with brass.
188 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
Adjoining the main apartment were two small chambers,
each opening into it through a narrow door, on either side
of the Virgin's image. These two chambers had each a
window of stained glass, containing more of the' unmean-
ing but glittering fragments of the same cathedral design.
In each chamber was a quaint, nanH)w bedstead made of
brass rods, designed to be folded and carried away in small
compass.
On the wall of each chamber was a crucifix, with a foot-
stool under it for a prie-dieu.
"This house," said Mrs. Vail, "has been the abode of
some pious Catholic family, probably Spaniards. Their
dead were buried in the other structure ; the living dwelt
Jiere making their dwelling-house their chapel. The
Apostle says, ^ Commend me to the church that is in thine
house. ' I thought I should dread to enter this place, but
I am charmed to be here."
Mrs. Vail was almost as delighted at seeing a human
habitation as if it had contained a human inhabitant. The
impression previously left on her mind by the scene in the
charnel-house was now effaced completely by the solemn
beauty the "dim, religious light" of this unexpected
abode.
Jezebel, who from the moment of entering had not said
a word, but gazed stolidly at the garish surrcundings as if
entertaining a Cromwellian disdain for such sacred finery,
discovered an object more interesting to her curious mind.
"What's dat ?" she exclaimed. " Why sure as you're
born, dat's a chist. Den I must rummage it. What's de
good book say ? ^ Man looketh at de outward appearance,
but de Lord looketh at de heart.' Now to look at de
heart is to peak into de inside."
Whereupon the dusky dame, who had early established
a monopoly of such rummagings on the ship, tried to open
the chest. Like the doors of the house, the lid was un-
FOUNDED OK A ROCK. 189
locked ; there was a lock upon it, but no key ; the hinges .
were rusty ; nevertheless, after a little tugging and strain-
ing by Jezebel, assisted by Rodney, the strong box was
opened.
The contents consisted, first, of a wicker-case of winc-
botfcles filled with wine, waxed and wired about the neck,
showing that they had been carefully sealed ; next, a few
sacred articles used to decorate a Eoman Catholic altar,
together with a rosary of beautiful beads and an illumi-
nated breviary ; finally, a small bundle of manuscripts on
stiff paper, resembling parchment or some other dried
skin.
*^If wine," said Eodney, ^^ improves with age, this is
old enough to be the best."
*^ These papers," observed Mary, turning over the manu-
scripts, *^ may possibly tell us the story of the island."
On examination, most of the records were found to be
not Spanish but French old French, which it was diflS-
cult to decipher accurately, yet it appeared that the entries
were accounts of merchandise bought and sold chiefly of
boucan and hides.
Another of the parchments may be freely translated as
follows :
** I, Francois Garcelon, brother of the Brethren of the Coast, having
lost by death my beloved comrade Manuel de Bruyere, and peace
having been declared between France and her enemies, and being
myself in great age and desiring to lay my bones in Brittany, hereby
Tsequeath my house, and whatsoever goods and chattels I shall leave
therein, to the Brethren of the Coast, to be awarded by them to some
brother thereof, who shall comply with the conditions hereunto an-
nexed ; the same being, first that he is poor and needy and second,
that he shall say daily an Ave and a Paternoster for this testator's
soul.
j Day of St. Agnes, Anno Domini 1693.
(feigned,) Pean^ois Garcelon, aged 71 years."
190 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
"As to the two buildings," said Dr. Vail, "they were
probably constructed by the Spaniards, who used one for
a priest's house, and the other for a chapel. The bucca-
neers may then have captured the island, and kept the
priest's house for a chapel, turning the real chapel into a
store-house for their packed meats, and leaving the
death's-heads undisturbed in it to be sentinels against
superstitious and God-fearing thieves."
Dr. Vail, by the help of old Garcelon's papers, thus
came to a correct solution of the mystery of the island
and its hermitage.
"Rodney," said Mary beseechingly, "let us change our
abode irom the ship to this house." ,
" Yes," chimed in Jezebel, who stood in mortal dread
of being drawn back to the Coromandelina basket, "let's
camp down in dis spick-span place. What's de good book"
say ? * Dis is de Lord's house dis is de gate ob hebben
to our souls.'"
The rain that had been threatening during these inves-
tigations, and that already began to fall before the
wayfarers noticed the gathering of the clouds, now startled
Dr. Vail, and he rushed out of the house to find Barbara.
He looked for the truant near and far ; he called her
loud and long ; he sought for her over the whole island.
He retraced his steps to the house to see if she had acci-
dentally found it in his absence. But she had not. Think-
ing then that she might have gone to the ship, he
hastened thither, and went on board, but saw the great
hulk for the first time utterly deserted of all occupants
save himself.
" N"o, she is on the island," he exclaimed, and he hurried
back again in the basket to the shore.
Sallying forth in a renewed search he was soon over-
taken by the twilight and then by the night. It was now
that he lifted up his voice and began so agonizingly to call
FOUKDED ON A BOOK. 191
the name of Barbara. The only reply was echo after echo.
Meanwhile Mary and Jezebel, at the house, were in indes-
cribable grief. So, altogether, the first night which all the
members of his little family spent on the much-coveted
land proved to be the most miserable hours of their whole
lifetime. Such is the vanity of human expectations !
Meanwhile 'Barbara, who had first awakened in the Her-
mit's Chapel amid the fire-flies and skulls, and who then
in fright had fallen to the ground in a swoon, was far too
exhausted to rally again, but passed into a natural and
heavy sleep.
She lay motionless in her strange, fire-lit chamber till
the night had well-nigh waned.
Beaver, meanwhile, too much exhausted for further
tramping with his master, and not comprehending the ob-
ject of the tramp, lagged behind Eodney, and at last com-
posed his aged limbs to rest under a tree the only kennel
of this sort which he had ever known.
At length when the morning drew nigh, a young woman
stood on a hill-top, fear-stricken and bewildered, bare-
headed and haggard, before yet a streak of dawn had
dimmed the stars, gazing intently toward the gloomy
sea, waiting for light enough to discover her way to the
ship. ^
It was Barbara ! poor agonized Barbara ! to whom
the world, which she had long sought and at last found,
had in a few hours cruelly belied all her life-long expecta-
tions, and turned her promised delights into woes.
At the same hour, at a little distance off, a bare-headed
man with iron-gray hair was picking his way up the same
hill, crackling onward through the branches, his gaiments
wet, his feet sore, his face pale, and his manner desperate.
It was Barbara's father ! more distracted and haggard
than herself.
In a moment they met : they met without a word, for
192 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
neither could speak : they simply threw their arms around
each other and wept.
There they stood, clasped heart to heart,
Not among all the twinkling lights that glowed upon
them from the sky, was there a more heavenly fire than
humed within those two human breasts, melting each;
^the one with paternal, the other with filial love. Each
had loved the other for a lifetime, but neither had ever
felt not even during the brief struggle overboard ^the
full force of Nature's tie between them, until this last pro-
longed and horrible test. It was a mutual revelation.
At length Barbara, in excess of joy, her mind once more
springing to its natural sprightliness, exclaimed :
*^0 father, I have for years chased a rainbow, following
it round the world, hunting for the sack of gold that lies
at its foot, but I have now found a richer treasure in my
father's love."
Swift and hurried were the explanations between them,
and they started with weary yet jocund feet to give joy to
the lonely watchers in the ancient house.
They reached this new home just as the dawn touched
the cast with purple Barbara herself being the chief sun-
beam that brought the day.
The rapturous greeting which the lost child received
from her mother went to Barbara's heart with a sweet
repetition of the joy she had experienced in her father's
arms.
^^ My daughter," said her mother, ^^ Ave are going to quit
the ship and live here. Look around. Heaven, you see,
has beneficently provided for- us a comfortable house.
This has been once a Christian home we can make it so
again."
^^It is very beautiful," observed Barbara, ^'and the
windows look like Madame D'Arblay's kaleidoscope."
To Barbara the stained glass, the carved chairs, the
FOUNDED OK A BOCK. 193
romantic history, and above all a house ^an actual home
' and on land seemed a realization of one of life's prom-
ised pleasures. She immediately restored to its pedestal
in her mind her original high opinion of the world, which
since yesterday had been an idol overthrown.
Aunt Bel, who had relished yesterday's healthy havoc
among the pine-apples and plantains, had already quietly
stolen out of the house and brought back a bounteous arm-
ful of dewy-cool and newly-^plucked fruit.
'^I aint agwine to cook no breakfast dis yer mornin',"
said she. ^'What's de good book say ? ^Dey shall bring
forth fruits, some sixty, some seventy, and some a hundred
fold.'''
Then, with happy hearts, the re-assembled family, having
spread their luxuries on the ancient table, sat down to their
first repast in their new home. As they partook of Nature's
fresh bounties, just gathered from her wild garden, they
thought gratefully of the Giver of every good ^nd perfect
gift.
'*K," observed Rodney, after the feast was ended, ^^if
we all decide to sojourn here, rather than on the ship, for
the next few days, or until I can build a boat for a voyage
of discovery to the next island, I will bring ashore some
of our goods and chattels to equip this ancient domain
with some appurtenances of modern comfort."
Dr. Vail's ferry-basket, in pursuance of this suggestion,
ran back and forth a dozen or twenty times between ship
and shore, importing (free of duty) all the articles which
Mary and Barbara deemed essential for their domestic
economy such as knives and forks, cups and plates, table-
cloths and towels, beds and mattresses, together with a
few cans of meat.
Such running to and fro, such rolling up of pillow-cases
and sheets, such getting in each other's way, such jesting
at each other's mistakes, indeed such a general frolic. Bar-
i
194 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
bara had never known in her life before, and she enjoyed
it as a Frenchwoman enjoys a revolution.
Beaver, however, remained a malcontent through the
whole tumultuous scene, for he was very old, and was as
much opposed to innovations as to crabs. He whined not
a little, and grew so peevish that Barbara gently boxed his
ears, giving him just such a love-tap as a certain young
sailor on a Federal gunboat would gladly have accepted in
the dog's stead, from the maiden^s hand.
" Dis house," said Jezebel, " will keep us safe and sound.
What's de good book say ? ^ Dere shall be a tabernacle in
de day-time from de heat, and a covert, from de storm and
de rain.' Massa Vail, I sometimes tihk we are de lost tribes
ob de chillen ob Israel, 'cause nobody else 'cep de Lord
knows where to find us."
The noon came and brought its shower, but the busy
family were safely ensconced under their sheltering roof,
with their household gods ranged about them as in an
antique temple.
Dr. Vail, in portioning out the house to its occupants, said,
'^Mary and I will take the large room, Barbara the left-
hand chamber, and Jezebel the right."
" Jist so," observed Jezebel. '^ What's de good book
say ? ^ In my Fader's house am many mansions.' " .
" I wonder," said Barbara, " how these beautiful windows
will look with the moonlight shining through them ? I
am impatient for the night to come. There will be a moon.
These painted panes, I think, must show the same colors
that Madeline saw on St. Agnes' Eve. I wonder if the
moonlight will stream through them for me as it did for
Madeline ? "
At last the night came, and Mrs. Vail said,
''There ! we did not think to bring any lamps."
"Never mind," replied Barbara, "keep the door open,
and the lamps will come flying in of themselves."
FOUl^DBD OK A BOOK, 195
Just then, as if to fnlfil her word to the letter, in came,
driven by the freshening breeze, a little squad of three
fire-flies traveling together. 'They flew about the room
awhile, and finally lighted on the Virgin's image, giving as
much light as if consecrated candles were burning on a
church-altar. Then, more of these weird insects straggled
in, settling quietly on various objects until they illumined
the room as with astral flames.
Mary Vail opened her Bible, and by the strangest light
that ever enabled her to scan its familiar pages (for it bur-
nished them with a mild shimmer of gold and green), she
read aloud the following passage :
Whither shall I go from Thy spirit? Or whither shall I flee from
Thy presence ? If I ascend into heaven, Thou art there ; if I make
my bed in hell, behold Thou art there. If I take the wings of the
morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there shall
Thy hand guide me and Thy right hand shall hold me. Even the
night shall be light about me. Yea, the darkness and the light are
both alike to Thee.
'^I am reminded," said Dr. Vail to Barbara, "that
seventeen years ago, on the last night that your mother
and I spent in our native land, and before you were born,
old Grandfather Pritchard opened the family Bible and
read aloud to us those same words. On the next morning
we went to Boston and sailed on the long, long voyage
which has only just come to an end."
"Yes," observed Mary, pleased with the reminiscence,
^^ I too was thinking of that same evening so I turned
to the same passage."
By the light of the fire-flies, the little company, sitting
in different attitudes about the room, presented a pictur-
esque appearance. Rodney was stretched on the floor,
resting his head on Beaver for a pillow a familiar attitude
both for man and dog. Barbara sat in a grotesquely
196 TEMPE8T-T088SD.
caryen chair^ its arms terminating in griffin's claws^ jeach
talon clasping a round ball ; and in the intervals of the
conyersation she watched the Inminons insects whose
light made a strange struggle with the light of the rising
moon^ as if the two splendors tried to outdo each other.
Mrs. Vail pored silently oyer the sacred book from
which she had been reading. Jezebel sat thinking of
Pete, her face glowing in the light of the fire-flies, till
it shone like some huge animated bronze, or as if the
statue of Memnon had been touched at night with the
rays of mom.
At length the company dispersed to their rooms.
As Barbara entered hers and closed the door, her heart
beat with a strange delight.
** This is a palace of enchantment,^*" said she.
That night, for the first time in her life, she was to
sleep in a dwelling-house I
The room was, to her, a royal chamber. It was now
filled with moonlight. The window, with its many-col-
ored panes, seemed to inyite St. Agnes to peep through it
and to inyade the pure maid's dreams.
But how could she dream unless she could sleep, and
how could she sleep while a certain far-off prince and ideal
hero held yigil in her mind ?
" For who at once can love and rest ?*
So Barbara lay wakeful and wistful.
Occasionally she lifted her fair arm into a slanting ray
of purple or green light, to see the beams break and mend
on her rounded and glowing flesh. The coverlid, that
hid her under its fleece, was smitten with prismatic rays
till it became spangled like a high priest^s breast-plate.
In the midst of this midnight and moonlit splendor.
FOUl^PED Olf A ROOK, 197
Barbara watched and gazed until weariness brought
sleep.
Then, at a charmed moment in her dream, there stole
into the chaste chamber of her mind a young Porphyro
whose name she never spoke aloud in her waking hours,
but whom in her tell-tale slumbers she now saluted with a
soft sigh, murmuring " Philip I '^
*s.-
i
CHAPTER XIV.
GEEBN PASTURES AND STILL WATEES.
Oltf the next morning, Rodney Vail rose before the
dawn, and hastened through the dew-wet vines and
grass to the cove, to see whether the Coromandel was safe
and sound.
His habit for years past had been to go on deck at this
hour, in order to examine whether the water-drag was in
its place whether the hanging anchor had found bottom
whether the wind had changed whether a ship was pass-
ing ^whether the pumps testified to a leak or whether
there was a prospect of reaching land.
On this morning, he found himself once again following
his familiar habit of looking after the Coromandel at day-
break.
A few swift glances satisfied him that the ship had not
been disturbed, for she was lying in tranquil solitude, like
a sleeper that did not mean to stir, even though the morn-
ing had come.
" I am in the West Indies," said he, "and am therefore
surrounded by commercial seas."
Inspired by a lively hope of hailing a vessel, he made
his way to the summit of a hill commanding a wide hori-
zon of dawn-lit water. He gazed with keen eyes, long
and sadly. No ship was in sight save the Coromandel.
"If yonder isle," said he, "is as small as it seems, it can-
not be larger than Grandfather Pritchard's garden ^it is
198
GEEEN PASTUBES AifD STILL WATERS. 199
a mere handful of sand and grass ; nevertheless it is large
enough to have a few human beings dwelling on it. I will
put up a signal."
Dr. VaiFs idea was to cut a tall staff perhaps a bamboo
or cane (if the island would afford one) ^and to erect it on
this hill, in order to keep a pennon flying.
"After I have done this/' said he, "perhaps I shall not
need to build a boat ; my signal may be followed by im-
mediate succor ; nevertheless as I have had small success
in trusting to my hopes, I shall begin my boat-building
without delay. On such h, fair day as this, with the ocean
as smooth as a lake, even a canoe would do for so short a
voyage."
On returning to the house, he found that Jezebel had
been roasting plantains and preparing some other luxuries
for the little family's morning repast.
" What a beautiful morning ! " observed Barbara. *^ The
air is sweeter than we have ever known it on board the
ship. It is fragrant and cool."
Barbara was not the first discoverer of that delightful
climate. Columbus, when he landed in Trinidad ^not
many miles away found the air so balmy that he com-
pared it with the enchanting spring-time in beautiful
Valencia. The ancient Ophir, from which Solomon pro-
cured the gold for the Temple at Jerusalem, was once sup-
posed to be in this same quarter. The first voyagers of
the Spanish Main located the Garden of Eden among these
beautiful isles.
After the little family partook of their fruity breakfast,
Dr. Vail and Barbara, who were eager for adventure, left
Mary in Jezebel's care, and sallied forth to explore the
region roundabout.
"Let us go into our garden," said Barbara. "I want
to find the robin red-breast, that covered the babes in the
wood with leaves ; and I want to see the chamois leaping
200 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
from rock to rock yes, and to see the mistletoe-bough, like
, the one in the story of Ginevra^ and the zebra with his
beautiful stripes and the dear gazelle with its soft black
eye and the silk-worm that made Madame D'Arblay's
green dress and the white elephant swinging his trunk
and the primrose, yiolet, daisy ^yes, and the squirrel
0, I want above all things to see a squirrel ! "
Dr. Vail smiled at his daughter's ignorant and impo^i-
ble wishes, which she sent forth naively to the four quarters
of the earth, and which for fulfillment would have required
all its climates and seasons to be present at a moment's
notice on one spot.
*^Go whither you will," said Dr. Vail, *^I will follow."
Barbara's spirit had now caught all the brightness of the
sky. She had bravely put her disappointments and agonies
behind her. The soul's wounds quickly heal under the
double magic of youth and hope. Fresher than the morn-
ing itself, the maiden was as gay and brilliant as if her life
were without a cross and her heart without a pang.
"Let us now go,*' said she, "into the deepest woods."
Barbara had read of the cedars of Lebanon, which ^;o
this day shade their ancient mountains with the self -same
branches under which the patriarchs and prophets sat of
old ; of the bread-fruit tree of Otaheite, with its nutritious
loaf as large as a child's head ; of the traveler's-tree of
Madagascar, catching the rain in its basin of leaves, and
keeping it cool for the thirsty pilgrim in the dry season ;
of the cypress of the Mediterranean, funereal and poetic ;
of the baobab of Abyssinia, beloved by negroes and bees ; of
the weeping-tree of the Canaries, distilling showers under
a clear sky ; of the nutmeg-groves of Ceylon ; of the dragon-
tree of Tenerijffe ; of the upas of Japan, from whose poison-
ous boughs the perching birds drop dead, and in whose shade
a maiden who walks bareheaded shall see her tresses fall
out hair by hair ; Barbara had read of all these and many
GREEK PASTURES AND STILL WATERS. 201
other wonderful growths of all zones ; and, notwithstand-
ing her recent disappointments, she now had a dreamy ex-
pectation of seeing all this scattered verdure of many lands
gathered into the greenness of one small isle.
Beaver, walking with an occasional limp, and greatly
fretted by a frequent briar, now joined the two strollers,
who, after wandering among the short and crooked lignum-
vitse trees in a vain search for the mighty baobab and ban-
yan, wended their way toward the Coromandel.
"My daughter, come and make a voyage with me on a
raft," said her father.
Dr. Vail had noticed that the tide was beginning to flow
up the cove. It would be flowing in this direction for four
or five hours more. This suggested to him the idea of ex-
temporizing a raft to drift to the head of the cove.
Emptying the water from four of his casks, he laid them
down on their sides, lashed them together, fastened the
ship's forward hatch on them for a floor, and launched his
clumsy but buoyant barge. A boat-hook, a long oar, a
rope, and an axe were put on board, together with a cane-
chair for Barbara. The fair Cleopatra then took her seat,
and Beaver personated Marc Antony at her side. Dr.
Vail stood in front, and, giving a push with the oar, dis-
lodged the little argosy from the sandy edge of the cove,
and went voyaging up the gentle stream.
" father," cried Barbara, who noticed how the trees
on the banks kept gliding past, "the island is running
away ! "
The cove was fringed on both sides, east and west, with
cocoa-nut trees.
" There are more cocoa-nut trees in the world," said Dr.
Vail, " than there are human beings. How tall their
trunks are ! Yonder tufted shaft is as high and straight
as a Maypole. The bark is ringed. Count two rings for a
year and you can tell how old the tree is." ^
202 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
Barbara, lifting her forefinger, counted the rings and
replied,
*^ A hundred and forty that tree is seventy years old."
** These cocoa-palms," said her father, "love to grow by
the sea. Their nuts are born sailors. Look ! one has Just
dropped into the water yonder did you not hear the splash?
See ! the dancing thing is in the centre of those ripples.
How it sails along with the tide ! Every cocoa-nut, as
soon as it drops into the water, goes wherever wind and
tide will carry it. Sometimes it is cast up a thousand
miles from where it grew, taking root in some sand-bar or
baiTen beach. The little globe of the cocoa-nut is a world
of itself ; many a man has found in it his house and home."
*^ How so ? " exclaimed Barbara, frowning a gentle dis-
credit on the tale.
" When I was a boy," said her father, " I heard a story of
the cocoa-nut, and of the many uses to which men have put
it. A pilgrim was ready to drop under the noonday sun and
perish in the sand from thirst, hunger and fatigue. He
espied a little cabin, shaded by cocoa-palms. The sur-
rounding region was a desert stretching miles away on
either hand. The fainting traveler, taking hope at the
sight of a human habitation, dragged himself forward
to this refuge. Hospitality awaited him at the door. His
host offered to his parched lips a cool, acid drink, sweet-
ened agreeably with sugar. A bounteous repast was speed-
ily prepared, consisting of several kinds of white meats,
with a vegetable something like cabbage all neatly served
on highly-polished dishes which were neither of porcelain
nor clay, but of fibrous wood. A wine of pleasant flavor,
and an abundance of sweet milk, enriched the repast.
Comfits and a strong cordial tasting like brandy were added
as dessert. The pilgrim, after refreshing himself with
these unexpected delicacies, rose from the table of his kind
^"st and begged leave to examine bis cottage. Its walls
GREEK PASTUEES AKD STILL WATEES. 203
were of durable wood ; its roof was of interwoven leaves ;
its furniture was of many devices for convenience ; its bed-
chamber contained a swinging hammock ; its floor was
softened with matting ; and in one comer stood a writing-
table, whereon lay parchments, pens, and an ink-horn, to-
gether with a lamp and cruise of oil ready for the night
as if the hut were the retired haunt of some scholar pur-
suing his studies remote from the world. But the chief
novelty which the pilgrim admired was the strangely-woven
garment worn by his host a flexible and brownish fabric,
harmonizing in color with the wearer's olive complexion
as if the sun had tinged at the same time his face and his
dress. At length the surprised guest exclaimed ^ What a
beautiful home you have here in the desert ! Many a
camel must have brought you his burden of goods from
afar, to supply you with so many comforts.' ^ No,' replied
the host, ^no camel's foot has ever trod this road; I live
apart from the highways of the desert ; seldom does any
human being stray into this isolated haunt.' ^ How, then,'
asked the guest, * could you bring hither the luxuries of so
many climes?' ^AU these things, without a single ex-
ception,' said the host, ^grew for me on my cocoa-palms.
These useful trees enabled me to build my cabin. Their
leaves supplied its thatched roof. My chairs and tables
were all cut from the tree-trunks. This hammock, these
mats, this garment that I wear all were made from the
fibrous threads of the cocoa-leaves. My scrolls of parch- ,
ment, my pens, my ink these too are gifts to me from my
bountiful trees. The cool acid drink which you quaffed on
your arrival was the water of the unripe nut and some-
times I have taken four pounds of water from a single nut.
The milk which you relished came from the nut when fully
ripe. The nutritious white meats which you thought to
be of several different kinds all came from a single tree,
the variety arising from plucking the nuts at different i
204 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
stages of their growth. The cabbage was cut from the top
leaves of the tufts. The wine was the fresh juice that flows
from the flower-stalks on plunging a knife through their
tender rinds. The cordial was the same juice after passing
through distillment in the sun. The sugar was extracted
from this cordial. The dishes and goblets were nut-shells
which I have cut into various patterns, and have polished
in my leisure hours. My lamp-bowl was made of one of
the largest shells ; the oil, too, which I shall- bum in it to-
night, is from the same creamy nut. In short, everything
I possess comes from my cocoa-palms ! ^ The pilgrim,
after hearing this strange recital, thanked his host for
such hospitality, and went on his way refreshed ^not
knowing which was the more admirable, the boundless
prodigalitv of Nature or the ingenious wit of man."
A bend in the cove now brought the voyagers to the
head of it, where they found themselves amid a great variety
of rank trees, bound together by a flowery cordage of vines
running around their trunks and boughs.
^^ How can a tree," asked Barbara, *^ bear so many differ-
ent kinds of flowers on the same branch ? "
" It is not the trees," said he, ^Hhat bear yonder flowers ;
it is the vines that run up to the tree-tops and there out-
spread their blossoms to the sky."
The two voyagers were now in the midst of a scene
not extensive, but rich and ravishing. Fragrant vanillas
drooped from the branches in graceful festoons. Varie-
gated lianas twisted themselves upward spirally. Passion-
flowers struggled with them in gay rivalry. Flame-colored
heliconias enkindled the eyes of the gazers at every turn.
Enormous bromelias, with innumerable flowers, flourished
in musky rankness on trunks which they long ago had
killed. Orchids, that feed "on the chameleon's dish ^the
air," grew without roots, as if foreign to the earth but
congenial to the skv.
GBBEN PASTURES AND STILL WATERS. 205
In the midst of this multitude of colors ^white, deep
yellow, light scarlet, rose, violet all intertwined in one
wild mass of concordant contrast ^birds flew in and out
whose plumage in the sunshine flashed a still brighter
blazonry than the flowers. Some of these winged and
burnished creatures were humming-birds, and while one of
them hung poised over some honey-cup, he seemed to
add another flower to the flower. Curious macaws emerged
from their nests in the hollow trees and screamed at the
strangers in shrill resentment at their intrusion. Proud
and talkative paroquets added to the jargon their dissonant
chatterings. In the occasional pauses a strange bird whose
note was like a violin uttered his -^olian strain. The bird-
of-paradise, stateliest of the little island's feathered for-
esters, bent his lemon-colored head in silent scrutiny of
the human invaders, then stretched his emerald-green
neck, lifted his chestnut wings, and soared away in fear.
*^ We have struck a snag," said Eodney, ^^ and can go
no further. '^
The little raft had reached a thicket of mangrove-trees
^those banyans of the marsh, whose branches dip down-
ward into the water as if yearning for the fellowship of
their roots. Dr. Vail, in disentangling himself from this
snare, laid hold of one of these submerged branches to
lift it out of his way.
" It is as heavy as a stone,'' said he, and drawing the
sunken branch out of the water, he found it covered with
oysters.
Barbara, who had eaten many an oyster from a can, now
for the first time ate one from its natural dish the shell.
" What tall canes !" exclaimed her father, with an eye
to his future flag-staff; and he waded ashore, chopped
down an armful of bamboos, tied them together, and
moored them in the water to the side of the raft.
Beaver, during this voyage up a stream inhabited by
206 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
crabs, had hitherto manifested no disposition to leap over
board, but he now, in one eager moment, forgot his age,
jumped into the shallow water, ran through a shower of
his own splashings to the bank beyond, and disappeared in
the thicket his bark sounding along through it. Then
he ceased to bark, and uttered a guttural growl as if
munching a muskrat. Presently the crackling of branches
announced that he was returning. In a few minutes he
emerged from the thicket, proud, rejuvenated and master-
fulholding in his mouth a small animal, something in
size and appearance like a rabbit.
^^ Dear father, is that a squirrel ? If so, my dog shall
not bite it. Why, poor thing it is dead ! "
^*It is the agouti," replied her father; *^but I would
rather that Beaver had caught a monkey, for that would
have reminded us of the lost human race."
The sun was now in the zenith. The tide was beginning
to ebb. It was time to return.
" For our voyage back," said Eodney, *^ we must provide
a shade."
Whereupon he cut down one of those strange arbo-
rescent ferns that grow as if in mocking imitation of the
palm-tree, shooting up a tall slender stalk and crowning it
with a thin outspread green umbrella of shady leaves.
This graceful ^canopy Eodney held over his barge, and
in the shadow of it drifted back on the ebb-tide to the
Coromandel.
In the afternoon, he raised his flag-staff and hoisted his
flag. At first there was no breeze to straighten out the
bunting; the old emblem drooped like a bird's broken
wing ; but at last a light wind from the north bore out
the sluggish folds. Still, as the island to which Dr. Vail
made signal lay directly northward, his flag could present
only its edge to his neighbor's eyes if, indeed, he had any
neighbor to see it at all.
GBEEK PASTURES AND STILL WATEES. 207
^^My dear father/' said Barbara, ^^I must help you
make your boat."
At Copenhagen, Eodney Vail had seen a Greenlander's
kayak a light gossamer craft that danced on the water
like a gull's feather. A man sat in the middle of it, plying
an oar or paddle with a blade at each end. The curious
craft belonged to an old Baltic sailor who earned his living
by teaching medical students (and other lovers of frolic
and adventure) how to go kayaking for pastime. Dr. Vail
had himself been one of these kayakers. He now under-
took to build a kayak, using bamboo rods for a frame,
barrel-hoops for ribs, and flannel for the inner sides and
deck the whole structure to be then covered with a water-
tight sheathing made of three oil-cloth coats, cut into
strips, and sewed together like the Greenlander's seal-
skins.
*^ I don't like this boat," said Barbara, after her father
began to build it.
" Why not ? "
^^ Because it will hold only one person, and I cannot go
with you."
Barbara assisted her father in binding the bamboo rods
two by two ^the tip of one against the butt of the other
so that two rods, thus fastened side by side, made one con-
tinuous thickness and strength. The zealous maid had
never learned to handle edged-tools, and yet in this sort of
boat-building there was one instrument to which she had
served an apprenticeship ^this was the needle ; Barbara
sewed every stitch both of the inner and the outer coating
of the kayak.
^* My daughter," said her father one morning, "before
we go to work on our boat to-day, let us make a journey
of exploration round our island's sea-edge. I want to ex-
amine its coast-line. It will give us a five-mile walk."
Barbara started on this pUgrimage with great eagerness,
i
208 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
Beaver trudging along at her side, wearing a gt^r coLai
of plaited ribbon-grass which she had woven round his
neck.
" Look at this strange plant/' said Dr. Vail. " It is a
cactus, the porcupine of shrubs. Notice its tubercles and
spines. Other flowers must moisten their beauty to keep
it fresh ; but this plant grows on the hot, dry rocks, where
nothing but itself withstands the sun. It was from a plant
like this that your mother's scarlet shawl took its color
red as the fire that Prometheus stole from the gods. On
this plant lives the cochineal insect, that lends to fine
ladies its carmine for a dye-stuff."
Turning from the cactus, Barbara came into the shadow
of a stately tree ^an erect trunk with dark, crackfed bark,
showing the wood within to be a dull gray.
" I do not know this tree," said Dr. Vail, who could not
identify the small yellow flowers that covered it in multi-
tudinous profusion.
" How its leaves shine ! " said Barbara, and she crushed
some of* them in her right hand to feel their coolness ; for
her poisoned hand was stiU feverish, and the touch of
moist vegetation soothed the dull heat.
Just then, shaken of the wind, one of the upper branches
cast down a nut as large as a goose-egg.
^^Is this an apple ? " asked Barbara. " how I want to
see an apple ! "
^^ No," replied her father, who now recognized the tree
by the fruit, " this is a mango."
Dr. Vail, glancing through the trees, saw the white sea-
beach, and said,
" My daughter, you are not to be disappointed in every-
thing; one of your expectations is to be gratified ;-you are
to see the corals. I observe them gleaming j ust beyond us. "
Barbara, without turning to look in the direction her
father had pointed, uttered a cry of pain.
GREEK PASTURES AKD STILL WATERS. 209
^* Have you been hurt ? '' he asked anxiously.
*^ Look ! " cried the astonished giri, pointing to some
light green plants. " They wither at my touch. I trod
on one and killed it, and now all the rest are afraid of
me ^they shrink away in terror I "
Barbara had come upon a cluster of those beautiful
mimosas known as sensitive plants.
^^No, my daughter, you have not killed them. See,
they are already reviving. Do you think they have mis-
taken you for some wild beast, come to rend them ? They
would show the same pretty terror at , any other touch,
even at the stroke of a falling drop of rain."
The travelers had now arrived at the surf-beaten coast,
where the rollers with the morning sun shooting its low
level rays through their pale green scrolls presented a
pageaut of rare splendor.
^^ We never saw such waves at sea," said Barbara.
"No," said he, "for if one wishes to see breakers with
the sun shining through them, one must be on the land."
She sat on a coral reef, whose exquisite branches disap-
peared gradually in the water, as if the sea had rolled over
a flower-garden and transmuted it into perennial stone.
" Look, father ! " said she, pointing down into the briny
bed. " How like the cactus yonder coral is ! And here
is one like the passion-flower there one like the cocoa-
palm ^and there another like the plantain-leaf. Do you
think the little insects that built these rocks really meant
to model them after the plants on the island ? "
"My daughter, the same great Architect who dictated
the shapes of both, is fond of making all the forms and
moulds of Nature harmonize."
Barbara, who had brought her microscope on purpose to
search for the living coral-insect, found this cunning arti-
san in the midst of his toils : a tiny white creature, so
small that a thousand of them together would not make a
^
210 ^EMPEST-TOSSED.
Bnow-flake, and so delicate that when one of them is taken'
out of the water the fragile creature can hardly be kept
aliye loug enough to be looked at before he dies : and yet
this insignificant and perishing white worm has built a
great portion of the most enduring foundations of the
earth, under-girding the great oceans with a solid masonry
of rock, which, instead of wearing away, only augments
with time.
" What is Beaver running after now ? " asked his mis-
tress, who saw him trot off again with remarkable celerity
for so old a dog.
Turning an abrupt comer of the shore, the strollers
witnessed an animating spectacle Beaver in full chase of
a sea-turtle ! The dog had intercepted the alarmed amphib-
ian in its escape from the shrubbery to the sea. But
Beaver bit the shelly fugitive in vain, and might as well
have gnawed a rolling rock. The unharmed turtle has-
tened onward in a majestic flurry to the sea. Beaver
plunged in after his escaping prey, but quickly returned
empty-mouthed, and avenged himself by standing at the
water's edge howling dismally at his lost prize.
A small army of turtles, that had been keeping company
with the first, now took the alarm, and came scrambling
down the sand-beach, scraping it with their flippers, and
making their best speed from the clutches of dog and man
into the safe refuge of the sea.
*^ Turn them on their backs," cried t)r. Vail, turning
one of the runaways upside down.
Barbara ran to another and endeavored to treat him in
the same way. At the stroke of his flipper, she shrank
back from her formidable foe, and he made off into the
water. She pursued another and another, and at last
turned one over, leaving him to lie in his shell like a babe
in a cradle.
Her father had meanwhile overturned seven.
0BBE1^ PASTUBBS AKD STILL WATBBS. 211
Beaver, in defiance of the prorerb that " old dogs cannot
be taught new tricks/- now changed his point of attack
from the, turtle's impregnable roof, ran his shrewd nose
under the crawling creature's side, and after receiving
several bruises over his eyes from the strong flippers, suc-
cessfully turned the victim over on his back, and mount-
ing the prostrate lower shell, which now lay upward, gave
a bark of triumph.
Barbara added another to the catalogue of the captured,
making two for herself, one for the dog, and seven for her
father ten turtles in all, out of perhaps one hundred and
fifty.
" Hpw shall we get them home ? " asked Barbara.
^^ Toward evening," said he, ^^ we will return here, and
with Jezebel to accompany and assist us, we will hitch
ropes to them and drag them quietly on their backs up
through the grass to the house. And there they will make
a dish to set before a king."
The two explorers proceeded on their journey.
^^ What a strange tree !" cried Barbara, looking toward
a gaunt trunk in the distance. ^^ What singular foliage !
The tree-tops look like a handful of dry sticks."
"The trunk is dead," said Eodney, "and the tuft on
the top is not foliage, but a fish-hawk's nest. That nest
was probably built fifty years ago. Successive genera-
tions of fish-hawks have been born in it, lived in it, and
died in it leaving it to their posterity as an ancestral
home."
Barbara stopped and packed up a conch-shell.
" What a beautiful lining ! " she exclaimed. " It is
pink and purple."
"This shell," said Rodney, "is the wonderful cup that
holds the whole Atlantic ocean. Put the shell to your
ear, my daughter, and you will hear all the roarings of all
the seas."
*r
212 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
*^It sings louder than these breakers," she exclaimed
with delight.
Hitherto the explorers had been skirting the western
side of the island ; they now reached its northernmost point
and turned to follow its eastern coast. Here the wind was
fresher ; the breakers were larger ; and the whole coast was
rockier, presenting the bleak tokens of many storms.
One of the relics was a sad monument in the shape of a
few rotting ribs of a wrecked ship. How long this wreck
had been lying there. Dr. Vail could not tell, but the sea-
fowls of a hundred years may have perched upon its
weather-beaten joints.
This part of the coast, being constantly washed by the
Equatorial Current, was strewn with thousands of waifs
cast up by that incessant flood, lining it with chips, blocks
of wood, fragments of spars, fish-bones, sea-weeds, scraps
of ropes, lids of orange boxes, broken casks and barrels,
and here and there a ship's hatch or hen coop, or a boat's
broken oar.
" What a museum of curiosities I " exclaimed Dr. VaO,
" Let us search among them. They have a strange con-
nection with the outer world. They are memorials of our
fellow-men.''
Suddenly a sunbeam glanced from a bright object and
dazzlefl his eyes.
" A wine-bottle," said he, picking it up. '^ It is sealed,
and there is a paper rolled up inside of it. Barbara,
other ships have been wrecked like ours, and other cast-
aways have sent messages from tjie great deep. But this
little record was written in vain ^it comes to an unin-
habited shore. Nevertheless it shall not go unread by
human eyes ; let me open it we will give to the sad
writer, whoever he may be, the sympathy of hearts that
have suffered misfortunes like his own."
Breaking off the bottle's neck and unrolling the paper.
GREEN PASTURES AKD STILL WATERS, 213
Dr. Vail was thunderstruck at seeing his own handwriting!
The sea had given back to him the self-same letter which
h had written a few weeks before to his father, and had
thrown overboard from the Coromandel. It had probably
kept company with the drifting vessel and reached the
shore at the same time. Dr. Vail sat on a rock and
sighed.
"My daughter," said he, "my hope is once more ship-
wrecked. Alas ! am I never again to see my father's face ?
Even if he yet lives, he is past three-score and ten. But
does he live ? Perhaps he is dead ^yes, the good old man
having no staff or prop for his declining years, and worn
out with waiting for his unretuming son, may long ago
have gone down to his grave, as his only refuge from
sorrow and age.'*
Dr. Vail and Barbara walked silently homeward : the
father still thinking of his father : the daughter thinking
of whom ?
Her musings were so mute, so shy, so far within, that
the beloved object of these maiden meditations, if haply
Barbara was thinking of somebody, or whispering the
name of anybody, since she could be heard by nobody,
must be left to the guess of everybody.
CHAPTER XV.
THE UNDEE WORLD.
^^ X OOK !" exclaimed Dr. Vail, as he stood by the
-L^ flag-staff, early one morning, "a whiff of smoke
is rising from yonder island. Look, Barbara ! A bonfire
has been kindled by the inhabitants to inform us that
our flag is seen. A few hours more, and we shall be
rescued. The sun shall not set to-night before we are re-
joined to the human race ! See how the smoke rises !
Yonder is where mankind dwell 1 "
The vigilant observer watched through his glass for
some sign of busy men embarking to meet him, but caught
no glimpse of anything save breakers, sand and cocoa-palms.
Hours passed, night came, day dawned again; and
during all this time the smoke rose at intervals ^as if the
fire, whenever it died down, was promptly rekindled to
keep the castaway in good cheer.
The third morning came, and he noticed, as before, that
after he raised his flag the smoke responded to it.
"There must be inhabitants,^' said he, "on yonder
island, for they keep making friendly answers to my flag.
My boat is finished, and I shall launch her to-day. To-
morrow, if the weather be clear and mild, I shall cross to
the opposite shore/^
Dr. Vail's boat was so light that a less muscular man
than he might have borne it on his back, as an Indian
bears his birch-canoe.
214'
' THE UNDER WORLD. 215
To ascertain whether it was water4ight, he put on
board about two hundred and fifty pounds of stone. This
weight, which was considerably greater than that of his
body, did not at the end of half an hour develop a leak
not even a drop.
Then carefully unlading his water-proof shallop, he
made an attempt to step on board. But he was not the
first boatman whom a shell-boat has suddenly slipped
from under. This inexperienced kayaker was cast out of
his kayak, and fell with a splash into the water ; the boat
drifting away from him to the opposite bank.
He had no alternative but to swim across after the
truant, and try again on the other side.
Barbara, who was a witness of this proceeding, was full
of merriment at his mishap.
Eegaining his frail craft, he spent the day in careful
exercise with it ; surprising himself at the facility with
which he handled his paddle, and at the speed he attained.
"No bird in the air," said Barbara, "is more grace-
ful on the wing than your beautiful little ship on the
wave."
" What shall be her name ? " asked her proud builder
and master.
" Call her the Snowflake," said Barbara, " for perhaps
she is the only one I shall ever see."
Early the next morning, between dawn and daybreak,
the whole family came down to the water's-edge, where
Dr. Vail, after a leave-taking as formal and affecting as if
for a voyage round the world, shot away from them with
surprising speed, and was wafted onward by their waving
hands ^while Beaver kept running along the bank in pur-
suit of his departing master, barking in expostulation at
being left behind.
" Beaver ! " cried Barbara, " come back ! "
The dog stopped a moment, looked first at the father
216 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
then at the daughter, and perceiving a divided duty, came
trotting reluctantly back while his heart was at sea.
" Let us go to the top of the hill,'^ suggested Mrs.
Vail, ^^and watch the boat through the spy-glass."
Reaching the flag-staff, Barbara lowered and hoisted the
flag to her father in continuous salute several times.
. "Is it possible," asked her mother, with an anxious
look, "that so small a boat can navigate so great an
ocean ? Look I the little thing is now a mere speck shin-
ing in the sun. May God keep my dear husband in
safety ! "
Jezebel, who stood gazing over the great expanse of
glittering water at the tiny craft which was growing less
and less, involuntarily exclaimed,
" What's de good book say ? ' Man is a worm ob de
dust.' Dere aint much dust out dar in de big water.
But de Lord hab got his watchful eye on dat precious
worm."
Barbara mute, wistful, and expectant ^followed the
dear voyager with her glass and with her heart's hopes.
Suddenly the smoke belched up in rolling masses, white
and fleecy at the top.
"The islanders," said Barbara, "are preparing to give
my father a welcome."
But Barbara's conjecture was only a pleasing fancy.
Her father's theory concerning the smoke had been wholly
wrong. The fumes did not rise from the signal-fires of
a hospitable coast, nor did they bear any salutation of
welcome from man to man. They were simply clouds of
sulphurous steam, emitted from one of the many volcanic
vents through which Nature lets off the internal heats of
the earth.
These safety-valves are numerous in the West Indies,
particularly in tlie Caribbee Islands.
These islands, extending in a northern and southern line
THE tJ2!fDER WORLD. SI'?
for seven hundred miles, consist of many points that all
jilt from one submerged bank or submarine shoal, which,
lying at no great distance under the water, is full of vol-
canic heats, and sends up its fires through a series of
chimneys, small and large, including nearly a dozen active
volcanoes.
The island which Eodney Vail had gone forth to seek
was one of these flues of the internal furnace of the earth ;
but the little company of spectators by the flag-stajQE did
not know or suspect this fact.
^^0 Bel," cried Mrs. Vail, suddenly putting her hand
to her head, ^^I am dizzy;" and she staggered toward
Jezebel for support; but the old nurse herself at that
moment tottered in the same way, and was cast headlong
to the ground.
"The sky is falling," exclaimed Barbara, "the land
shakes ^the world is vanishing away ! " and she convul-
sively clasped her arms about the trunk of a tree, as many
a less terrified Rosalind has done with a gentler embrace.
"It is an earthquake," said Mary, who, as soon as she
comprehended the situation, composed herself into that
mild courage which had always distinguished her in great
emergencies.
The shock had been slight, but startling.. Jezebel rose
to her feet, and said,
" It's de Lord^s han' a knockin' agin de ground. Byme-
by de Lord will come and knock so hard dat he will break
de whole world to pieces. What's de good book say ? ^De
hills shall skip like rams, and de little hills like lambs.' "
The mother and daughter were distressed at the absence
of their natural protector; though, had he been present,
he would have been powerless to protect them against such
a perturbation of Nature.
"I wonder if Rodney felt it in his boat," said Mary,
with an apprehension of calamity to her husband.
218 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
The three women, as soon as they felt the gi'ound steady
agam under their feet, walked back to the top of the hill
(from which they had a little way descended) and sought
through the glass for some trace of the imperiled nayigator.
He was seen in the far distance. He was therefore safe.
In fact, he knew nothing of the phenomenon which had
terrified his family.
The earthquake, which he had crossed without feeling
it, had diffused its shock through the waves, giving him
no suspicion of any other commotion than the sea's cus-
tomary restlessness. After paddling his kayak for two
hours, he approached the shore which he sought. Looking
before him with magnificent expectation, he saw the col-
umn of smoke growing broader and rising higher.
"How shaU I land ?'' he thought. "If I attempt to
shoot through the breakers, they may dash me to pieces.
I will follow the western coast in search of an inlet. *'
He effected a landing through an open gate of coral reefs
that formed a lagoon.
" Once agaiuj" said he, "I am on the solid earth ; '' and
he looked about him with something of the same pride
that had animated his discovery of the island he had just
left.
"Have my friends who lighted the signal seen me?
Have they followed my course ? Do they know of my
arrival ? Will they come down to meet me here ? "
After asking himself these questions, he waited a few
moments for the inhabitants to present themselves. Thirst
seized him. Picking up a sea-shell, he dipped it into a
shaded spring of water and began to drink.
"This tastes like sulphur! "he exclaimed, frowning at
the noisome draught, and throwing away the shell.
" To what desolate place have I conic ?" he cried. " No
sign of house or habitant. But whence then the smoke ?
Who built the fire ? What fuel keeps it burning ? "
r
THE UKDBR WOULD. 219
A few observations based on geological knowledge eon-
yinced him that the fire was none other than a jet of yellow
fume from one of Nature's altars underground.
" Am I baffled again ? " he cried. " First the sea ship-
wrecked nie and held me for years a prisoner ^then the
earth denied me a sight of her inhabitants and no^ hell
belches its breathjn my face ! "
The crater had long ago lost its primeval fire, and could
now yield only smoke and steam.
Standing on the grassy rim, Eodney Vail counted three
orifices in the crater, pouring forth separate volumes of
sulphurous gas, which united above into one roll or wreath.
Lumps of lava, probably centuries old, were lying all about
the island, and constituted Nature's substitute for stones.
The soil was so friable that it frequently broke away be-
neath Dr. Vail's feet. Fatigue came upon him, due not
merely to the natural reaction from his exertions, but more
to the stifling smokiness of the air. He made his way
down the eastern slope of the hill, and sat in. the only
shade the island afforded that of the cocoa-nut trees.
No sooner had he seated himself, than a trembling mo-
tion passed through the earth beneath him, shaking the
trees so sensibly that hundreds of their nuts fell around
him in a shower.
^^An earthquake !^' he exclaimed, leaping to his feet;
and a sudden whiteness overspread his face ; for no man is
so courageous but he will blanch a little when Mother
Earth herself proves a coward and trembles with fear. He
started to run toward an open space on the hillside, when
a second shock made him totter against a tree, to which
he clung to keep himself from falling.
At the next moment, he was struck violently on the
right shoulder by the sharp edge of a falling cocoa-nut a
stroke which lamed him as if it had been a blow from a
spent cannon-ball.
220 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
A heavy shower of *rain followed, and the volcanic
column mingled with the other louds, overspreading the
whole sky with watery smoke.
A dead calm prevailed, during which the hissing of the
steam from the rocks, the spattering of the rain on the.
sea, and the beating of the surf on the beach were loud
and constant.
Dr. Vail now wished that he had not undertaken his
voyage. The keen pain in his shoulder, the vague terror
engendered by the earthquake, the steady rain pouring
from above, and the wilder storm belching from below
all this, coupled with the thought that several miles of
the dangerous ocean lay between him and all he held dear-
est in the world, overcame the stout-hearted man and filled
him with distress.
"How shall I get back again ? Can I propel my boat
with this aching arm ? Ought I to start now or wait ?
But if I start, a hurricaiie may smite me on the way ! 0,
into what strange perils I am cast ! Am I to be forever,
forever tangled in the toils of fate ? "
The strong man chafed like a lion in a net. ,
By the time he reached his boat the wind had risen.
This forbade his embarkation. Within half an hour the
fickle tempest blew from three different quarters. Then
suddenly the storm-clouds broke away, the wind lulled,
the sun shot forth his fiery beams, and the sea which had
quickly swollen sank as quickly to rest.
Twice he endeavored to shoot through the breakers but
was driven back between the coral reefs ; which, had they
touched his cockle-shell, would have torn it to shreds.
"Hardly three hours,'' he exclaimed, "are left of the
daylight ; I must make one more attempt to cross the bar,
or I shall be caught here all night.''
Plunging his oar again into the waves, he made a few
i^'t strokes, every one of which reacted upon his shoulder
THE UKDBB WORLD. 221
with a twinge of pain ; but lie shot over the roaring bar,
and was once again on the open sea.
None of the mad speed of the morning marked his
homeward course. He did not now expect to cover the
distance in two hours ^hardly in four.
The current had a tendency to carry him westward of
his own island, and he had to struggle hard not to be
borne away by its powerful flood.
When he was about midway between the two islands a
sudden change occurred in the weather ; the air became
murky and motionless ; a haze overspread the sky ; and,
at a time of day when coolness should prevail, the heat
was more oppressive than at noon. An oily stillness
covered the waves, softening them into a gentle roll.
Fearing a coming blast. Dr. Vail propelled his craft with-
out mercy to his nerves or sinews ^his whole body reeking
with sweat, his garments sticking to his skin, his strong
chest panting like an athlete in the last rivalry of a race.
" One mile more," he exclaimed, ^^ and I shall then be
at the Coromandel's cove."
The sun set, and the moon rose ^both at the same mo-
ment.
He had now passed the northern point of the island,
and by landing here might have saved himself the toil of
propelling his boat as far southward as where the ship lay,
but a dangerous barrier of breakers warned him to seek
no landing-place short of the ship's roadstead.
He sped along just outside the line of the surf, and
watched its white violence at his right hand. Distinctly
over the breakers, he heard the barking of a dog. Beaver,
who had espied the returning kayak, was trotting along
the beach, in company with his master on the water.
Suddenly a booming sound broke forth from the island,
and rattled and rolled through the soft air, making the
glassy ocean shudder with ripples far and near.
222 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
Before Dr. Vail had time to reflect on the cause of this
cannonade which jarred the land, the sea, and the sky
he noticed in the moonlight that the breakers, which had
hitherto been Tunning up from the sea to the shore, as
breakers do, now fled back from the shore to the sea.
These refluent shallow billows, on reaching the deeper
water, mingled with it to form one sober wave, which,
without furious foam, but with tremendous power, rolled
toward the kayak, lifted it on high, passed under it aa
under a floating feather, and flowed outward a mile at
sea.
Then it stopped, turned, gathered to itself a multitude
of waters, and with a strange roaring rushed back with,
mountainous swell toward the defenceless boat.
The moving wall of water had meanwhile curled into a
crest, which, to the dismayed voyager, seemed about to
engulf him with instant destruction.
The imminent wave swept over him with a tempest of
foam, capsized his little boat, whirled it over and over,
tore it away from him like the stripping off of a garment
and left him a struggling swimmer, clasping his oar
with desperate hands, as a drowning man grasps a straw.
At the next moment, he was swept onward beyond the
beach hurled up among the trembling trunks of a half-
submerged grove of cocoa-nut trees ^and flung senseless,
nearly forty yards inland from the customary water-line.
The ill-fated adventurer ^too greatly stunned to be con-
scious of his misfortune ^was left lying on a green hill-
side ^in the soft grass his eyes closed his face pallid in
the moonlight and his hands still clenching his oar as
with a death-grip, showing the last hope to which he had
clung in his struggle for life.
What was this phenomenon ? this swift and boisterous
treachery of a tranquil sea ?
It was an earthquake of fearful power one of those
THE UKDER WORLD. 223
great upheavals by which^ along tropical sea-coasts, the
agitated land, moving to and fro, pushes the sea back
from the shore, and receives the refluent water in one wild
and awful surge. This retiring and returning flood is
sometimes of such volume and violence as to overflow the
tops of trees, and to carry stately frigates up into green
fields.
It was on such a billow that Eodney Vail's cockle-shell
was caught and crushed. Had the fragile craft been an
admiral's flag-ship, its fate could not have been different.
Nature, without warning to man, and without pity for
her own fair hills and coasts, had smitten the earth with
a convulsion that shook the night-dews from every blade
of grass throughout the Antilles, and that stopped every
church clock simultp.neously from Trinidad to St. Kitts
as if to prolong a moment of havoc into an eternity of
suspense.
CHAPTER XVL
OUT OF THE JAWS OF DEATH.
EABTHQUAKES are of two classes or types.
The fiWBt are called by the Spanish Creoles ^^ Trem-
blores," or tremors, in which the slight swell or motion of
the surface '*:oes not cast down buildings or endanger life,
and whicb^ at the changing of the seasons, sometimes
occur dailjx even two or three times a day, for weeks in
succession*
The second are called ^^ Terremotos," or earthquakes
proper, happily not frequent in any country, beginning
with loud noises as of heavy wagon- wheels rolling over the
ground, followed by the opening of seams and fissures, the
engulfment of rocks and forests, and the ruin of cities
and towns.
The tremors, or '^ Tremblores,^' can be faced and out-
braved by the courage derived from familiar experience ;
but the "Terremotos," or real earthquakes, are beyond all
reconcilement to the overpowered senses of man, and excel
all other natural phenomena in oppressing the mind with
a sense of helplessness and woe.
Three ground swells in the solid earth, all occurring in
one brief day, even though not earthquakes proper, were
enough to inspire Mrs. Vail with a dread of remaining
on the land. Accordingly, at Barbara's suggestion, they
abandoned the house and took refuge on the ship. They
had a vague idea that the v/^ater, being accustomed to
224:
OUT OF THE JAWS OF DEATH. 225
heavings and swellings of its own, would afford the
refugees a kindlier asylum than the land.
^^ We shall be out of danger here/^ remarked Barbara,
looking round the cabin wherein all three were re-en-
sconced in their old sea-faring quarters, ^^for this dear
old ship, which has been an ark of safety to us so long,
will once more hide us in her heart of oak/*
The Coromandel, as she lay immured at sundown in
her land-locked cove between green walls of cocoa-trees,
could not furnish from her deck a view of the ocean to
the northward; so her anxious company were prevented
from watching Dr. VaiPs homeward, as they had watched
his outward, course.
Darkness begets fear, and fear chills the reason. When
hope is paralyzed, the whole mind is benumbed. Mary
and Barbara now gloomily convinced themselves that the
ship partook of the hopelessness of her company, and was
no real covert or sure defence. They waited in a kind of
calm dismay.
'^ Where is my dog ? *' suddenly asked Barbara, looking
round for him in the dusk. ^^ He came on board with us,
but has gone off again."
Two or three timeis she mounted the binnacle, and called
Beaver's name ; but the dog was neither to be seen nor heard.
Jezebel was silent and solemn, under a shadowy convic-
tion that the end of the world was at hand.
'^ How dark it is growing," said Barbara ; "how short
the twilight has been ; let us light the cabin-lamp."
The familiar swinging-lamp, for the first time since their
arrival on shore, was now set burning in its accustomed
place, as in past years at sea.
Jezebel's face, which the lamplight strangely illumined,
gradually assumed a look of uncommon serenity. There
had been occasions in Jezebel's life when some high spirit-
ual thought, working within her mind, had moulded her
1
226 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
bronze face into a momentary majesty. Such a moment
was now winging its shadowy flight across that venerable
front. She looked like an aged sybil an ancient seer.
She immediately became the chief spirit of the three.
Mary and Barbara found themselves involuntarily looking
up to the old Ethiop with the homage and reverence due*
to a superior soul.
"My chillen," exclaimed the strange creature, "what^s
de good book say ? ' De great day ob de Lord is near, it
is near. Dat day is a day ob wrath, a day ob trouble and
distress, a day ob clouds and tick darkness.' Yes, my
chillen, dat's de word ob de Lord, spoken by the 'Postle
Zeffniah. But dat's not de whole word ob de Lord. No,
my chillen, when de Lord speaks a powerful word like dat,
like a rushin' mighty wind He den right away speaks a
sweet and gentle word, like a still small voice. What's de
good book say! '0 Jerus'lem, Jerus'lem, how often
would I hab gaddered dy chillen togedder as a hen gadders
her brood under her wings, and ye would not,^ Dat was
Jerus'lem. But, my chillen, we ain't like dem folks ; no,
we are agwine to let de Lord gadder us togedder under
His own great and mighty wings."
It was at this precise moment, the night having just set
in, the full moon having just risen, and Eodney Vail in
his flying kayak having just sprung with fresh energy into
the last mile of his voyage, that the first signs appeared
of the approach of an earthquake which a few minutes
afterward was to shake every island of the Caribbean
chain, and especially the little island which the Coro-
mandel had too blindly chosen for herself from all the
others in the sea.
It was heralded to the frightened women in the ship by
a crashing sound which, as it penetrated the cabin, seemed
tq Barbara to be a clap of thunder made by the earth in-
stead of the sky.
OUT OF THE JAWS OF DEATH. 227
''This loud noise," said Mrs. Vail, timidly, ^'is premoni-
tory of something I know not what. The elements are at
war. May God take care of my husband in his fragile craft. "
Jezebel rose to her feet, swayed her body to and fro,
closed her eyes, and exclaimed, with a weird and powerful
voice,
''It is de great and terrible day ob de Lord. What's de
good book say ? ' De earth shall quake ! de hebbens shall
tremble ! De day ob de Lord is great and terrible, and
who can abide it ?"'
While Jezebel was yet speaking, the chain-cable by which
the ship was anchored racked back and forth with a grat-
ing noise in the iron-clad aperture through which it passed ;
a great blow seemed to be dealt against the keel, as if
some Titanic sledge-hammer had smitten it from under
the earth ; and the three panic-stricken women in the
ship's cabin were dashed violently to the floor, where they
crouched in fear and woe ^praying, moaning, and wring-
ing their hands.
"Almighty Father," cried Barbara, " be merciful ! Leave
us not to perish."
Mary sat clenching her white hands in agony at her
husband's absence and probable destruction.
" Kodney, Kodney, where are you ? ^Lost ? Killed ?
Dead ? my husband ! God ! "
In miserable situations, miseries multiply. No sooner
had the women been thus dashed to the floor than the ship
suddenly rose, rocked, lurched, and fell on her beam-ends
^hurling her three occupants down to the starboard side
^jarring the air into a windy breath that blew out the
lamp and setting loose, in the appalling darkness, an
avalanche of all the cabin furniture and movables, so that
they slid down into a jumbled heap, sounding as if the
vessel had been crushed and her timbers were breaking
and snapping on all sides.
228 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
^^ heaven 1 the ship has capsized and is going to
pieces ! ^^ shouted Barbara, lifting her voice above the din.
'^ Mother, let us run to the deck ! Haste, Bel, quick I It
may not be too late to save our lives."
Barbara instantly led the way, groping through the dark-
ness to find the passage up-^stairs.
" No," said her mother in mortal anguish, but with a
strange calm, " I shall' not stir from this spot. Let death
find me here I am ready and waiting. Barbara, your
father is dead ! Yes, I know it I am sure of it ! Then
let me not survive him a single hour. Eodney, Kodney I
my dear husband, you once faced death in this very cabin
for my sake I will face it here for yours." And she sat
in the darkness burying her head in her hands.
Barbara, who had now reached the cabin-stairs, was pre-
vented from hearing her mother^s distressful words by the
great noise a noise not only within the cabin, but without
^f or in addition to the interior bedlam of the crackling
furniture, there was an exterior tumult of rushing waters,
falling trees, and splitting banks.
^* Dear lamb," exclaimed Jezebel to Mary (for the old
nurse also had remained behind), ^^ what's de good book
say? ^ Peace, troubled soul.* We hab had de troubled
soul now let us hab de peace."
Mrs. Vail's conviction of her husband's death was para-
mount. The instinct of life had never been strong with
her ; it was not comparable to her instinct of love ; and
she was now eager that her life should instantly flee the way
of her love.
But Barbara, who was clambering to the deck, seeking
for an escape, had not yet known either life or love. She
therefore had no welcome for death. The lion-heart of
her father, which had been transmitted by inheritance to
her own breast, was roused within her. She was alert and
^ defiant. She determined not to die, if she could live.
OUT OF THE JAWS OF DEATH. 229
Nature now brought to pass a marvellous surprise.
^^0 my wild brain!" exclaimed Barbara. ^^ Is this a
delusion or a reality ? Has the earth been turned upside
down, or have I simply lost my wits ? '^
For as soon as Barbara had fixed her footing on the deck,
which was now slanting, like a pitched roof, and to which
she clung as to a housetop, she was amazed to see the quiet
moonlight revealing everywhere a landscape so peaceful
and serene, so apparently undisturbed, and so full of in-
stantaneous comfort to her agonized mind, that she could
not comprehend the stupendous upheaval of a few minutes
before.
" Has God wrought some miracle ? " she cried, perplexed
yet cheered. "One moment ago all was chaos, and now
all is calm."
Barbara shared the bewilderment common to many per-
sons who, after passing through a great earthquake, expe-
rience at the next moment a sense of something miraculous
in the sudden change from universal commotion to uni-
versal tranquillity; for although the lighter shocks of
earthquake awaken dread of others to follow, yet a profound
and terrific concussion, shaking the earth to its centre,
driving the sea from its shore, and appearing to set the
sky loose, wreaks its full terror on the mind at once, and
when it passes, leaves the calm solace that follows great
pain.
" It is over at last,'* exclaimed Barbara, drawing a long
and joyful breath, "and still the earth abides and still
we live."
The keen-eyed girl, accustomed to looking through dis-
tances at night, saw at a glance that the ship, though on her
beam-ends, was stiU in the same familiar cove, and had
neither been cast ashore, nor unmoored from her anchorage.
The simple fact was (though Barbara did not then com-
prehend it) that the bottom of the cove had been upheav
230 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
about seren feet, and its reservoir of water been emptied
with a rushing noise into the sea or so nearly emptied
that what was left was not deep enough to float the ship,
which consequently had fallen oyer on her beam-ends.
Barbara turned round, expecting to find her mother
and Jezebel at hand.
Discovering that they had not followed her to the deck,
she picked her way down the declivitous staircase into the
cabin, to report to their bewildered minds that the terrible
convulsion was overpast and their peril at an end.
" But where is your father ?" asked his agonized wife.
"He is on the other island," replied Barbara, "safe
with his new-found friends ;" for Barbara's anxiety, strange
to say, was less for her father than for her dog.
"Now, my dear daugtter, climb up-stairs again, and see
whether there is any sign of your father's arrival."
" Mother dear," replied Barbara, " father certainly has
not left the other island. Having found friends there,
why should he leave them so soon ? Besides, he must have
felt the shocks of this morning, and these have warned him
against returning to-day in his gossamer boat."
Barbara re-ascended to the deck to look, not for her
father, but for her dog.
" Hark ! " she exclaimed, putting her hand to her ear,
and listening to a far-off noise ; it was a dog's bark ; and
the sound seemed full of distress.
" Beaver 1 " shouted Barbara, at the top of her voice ;
and she waited for him to bey her call ; but he did not
appear.
" Beaver I " she cried again and again ; but he failed to
approach.
" My dog," thought Barbara, "must be in some misery
^he howls pitifully as if hurt. What if some accident
has befallen him ? Any little bruise would now kill him
^he is so old. I must go after him at once."
OUT OF THE JAWS OF DEATH. 231
Hastening then into the cabin for her shawl and hat,
she announced Beayer^s distress, and her determination
to go to his rescue.
Her mother attempted to dissuade her, but Barbara
would listen to no expostulation.
^^N"o/^ said she, "Beayer would never bark and moan
in that sorrowful way unless he were suffering. He is
appealing to me to come to him, and I am going. My
dog leaped after me when I was drowning, and* I must
hasten to my dog now that he is hurt.'*
" Do you see any sign of your father ?" asked Mary.
^^ No," replied Barbara, ^^ and I am sure that he has
not returned."
At that moment the thought crossed Barbara's mind
How should she get ashore ? Was not the ferry destroyed ?
Or, if not, would the ropes and pulleys still work ? Could
she pull herself along in the basket ?
She made an examination. Yes, the ferry-ropes were
still there. Nothing had been injured. The ferry was
easier than ever at least, easier from ship to shore, for
the ship now lay so high in the air that the ferry-basket,
in going shoreward, ran down hill.
The moment she landed and set out on her journey,
her heart failed her. She was daunted, and shrank from
going forward. Nevertheless she was distressed concerning
her dog her life-long companion her rescuer from
drowning and now, in his old age, her daily care.
Nothing but some strong impulse of duty, like that
which now animated Barbara in Beaver's behalf, could
have overcome the fear which struck its chills and tremors
into her soul.
She was alone at night ^walking over ground that had
just been rent asunder picking her dismal way among
fallen trees ^her timid heart all the while quaking within her
as the great earth's had just done in its own quivering brea^ '
232 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
She stopped two or three times to turn back, but always
compelled herself forward. Her fears multiplied with her
efforts to repress them. Her life, she felt, was in jeopardy
in that treacherous place. "Was it not her real duty,
therefore, to turn back her duty to herself and to her
mother ? No, she must go forward. Everybody was now
safe but Beaver he too must be saved.
On she went, guided by the dog's pathetic cry ^past
the grat .cactus on the rock, past the mango-tree, past
the plantains, past the wild cinnamons straight toward
the sensitive mimosas that lay outspread before her in the
moonlight.
She expected to see them shrink again at her touch ;
but a ruder touch than hers had already smitten them into
abjectness ; and their leaves, as she drew nigh, lay crouch-
ing together, paralyzed.
The moonlight bewildered her. It makes the most
familiar region a strange land. It changed to Barbara's
eyes the whole face of the island.
"What a long walk,'' said she. "It never seemed to
me so long before. How far Beaver must have strayed !
I wish he had gone with my father to the other island.
Dear father, the seas for the first time roll between us
to-night. We are separated as never before. But you are
happy among your new friends."
Barbara, more hopeful than her mother, still dwelt in
the unshaken conviction of her father's safe arrival at the
other island, where she pictured his warm welcome by the
glad inhabitants who had answered his signal, and among
whom he was tarrying till a safer time for return.
Reasoning in this way, the daughter had suffered no
pang of anxiety on account of her father's absence.
What then was her surprise, her dismay, her anguish,
when, on approaching a high bank from which the dog's
bark seemed to proceed, Barbara caught a glimpse of
OUT OF THE JAWS OF DEATH. 233
Beaver, standing there in the clear moonlight over her
father's prostrate and deathly form I
The girl leaped forward and bent down to the senseless
man, who lay stark and stiff. " Can it be ? No, ^no,
.nol Dead? What, my father dead ? God 1
God 1 "
The tropical dew which was falling plentifully, as if
heaven were making haste to shed its healing on the bruised
and broken earth had already moistened his upturned
face and brow.
" These are cold beads of sweat," she cried, noticing the
wet drops on his forehead ; " they are death-damps I
have heard how they settle on dead men^s faces ! he is
dead 1 ^he is dead ! "
One loud cry of agony burst from her lips, and she
threw herself on his lifeless body.
"Nol" she exclaimed, feeling the movement of his
heaving chest, " he breathes ! he is alive I God I
thanks, praise, glory be to Thy great goodness Thy
tender mercy ! "
Barbara's heart leaped her pulse danced her face shone
with sudden love, joy, and gratitude.
" my father ! speak to me I I am your daughter.
Say just one word. speak, speak ! "
Unable to evoke from him a reply, she was seized with an
apprehension that though he might be alive, yet his life
was perhaps ebbing away, and he would never speak again.
" how can I restore him ? What will bring back the
light and life into his dear, closed eyes ? "
First of all she deftly released from his grasp the clenched
oar, and laid it down beside him in the grass Beaver
straightway running his wise nose up and down the length
of it, as if wondering whether he had heretofore failed to
detect in this piece of wood some living enemy that ought
to be now bitten to death.
234 TEMPEST-TOSSBD.
Barbara then mbbedher father's hands, stroked his fore-
head, kissed his cheeks, and called his name but all for
nought; for although he lay breathing more and more
vitally, 'yet he did not awake.
He moaned and sighed. He seemed trying to say some-
thing in his sleep. Again and again he renewed the effort,
drawing his brows together, clasping his hands in an anguish
so dumb that its veiy speechlessness was itself a speech.
The moon was shining full upon him, and revealed on
his countenance an expression pitiful in the extreme-HSO
full of misery that Barbara wept to behold it.
She was powerless to relieve her father's mute and writh-
ing agony, and this produced a new agony of her own.
At length he opened his lips and uttered the word
'' Mary ! ''
His daughter replied,
^^It is not my mother it is I, Barbara."
"0 Mary 1'* said the struggling voice, with a moan,
" the ship is on fire struck by lightning ^arise I ^will
save you God, dead ? no, Mary, darling, do not die
you Uve, you live Mary, my wife, my wife !"
His paroxysm of feeling then overcame him,* and he
awoke.
*^ Where am I ?" he asked. " And my boat ^where is
it?''
Before his daughter could summon words to reply, his
awakened faculties sprang into their complete intelligence,
and he rose to his feet.
'^ Am I able to stand ? " he asked. " Have I any broken
bones ? Look at me do you see any gash ? any bruise ?
any trickling blood ?" '
^^No, dear darling father, you are safe and sound."
" My child," said he, clasping her to his breast, " I was
overboard ! it was a fearful wave 1 How have I escaped
alive ? But what brings you here, my daughter ? Has
OUT OF THE JAWS OF DEATH. 235
any calamitj befallen the f amUy ? Your mother she is
alive ? and ^not harmed ? "
" yes, yes," cried Barbara. " We are all saved."
^* Saved ? Saved from what ? Has there been danger ?
Not to Mary ? Saved ? Tell me all/'
" There has been a fearful earthquake," Barbara replied,
"but we have all escaped ^not a hair of our heads is
harmed."
Dr. Vail now for the first moment comprehended the
convulsion which had caught him in its whirling wave
and swept him as through a maelstrom to the shore.
"Father, dear, do not try to walk yet. Sit here on
this low stone. Eecover your*strength."
He obeyed, taking a seat, while the old dog expressed
many dog-like congratulations on his master's recovery,
and Barbara sat on the stone beside her father, stroking
his hand.
After a few moments. Dr. Vail rose, picked up his oar-
blade, and holding it in one hand for a staff of support while
Barbara clasped the other to lead him forward, set out on
a slow walk toward the ship.
" I wonder if any .trace is left of my kayak ? " said he,
looking about him on his way for some shred of his thip-
.wrecked Esquimau craft ; but Barbara's Snow Flake had
melted in the sea.
Dr. Vail, instead of finding any fragment of his Green-
land cockle-shell, came upon a ship's pinnace ^lying bottom
upward high and dry on a green hill ^keel and planks
badly broken and evidently a wreck of that same night.
"What is it ? " exclaimed Barbara, starting back from
the strange, black object as if it were some living animal
for she had never seen a ship's boat except the canvas-clad
shell which her father had used at sea.
"It is a pinnace," said he, "broken loose from some
passing ship, and drifted ashore. During the twilight T
236 TEHPEST-TOBSED.
thought I saw a steamer pasaing behind the northern end of
the island to the westward,"
Dr. Vail drew along hreath, snch as accompanieB a deep
thought.
" Look ! " exclaimed Barbara, "here are letters on the
boat ^they are upside down half hid in the grasa."
Dr. Vail, with Barbara's assistance, took hold of the
gunwale, and turned the raven-colored wreck right side
up, so that her name, which was in small gilt letters on her
bow, now caught a sudden silvering from the moon, and
revealed the burnished and prophetic worda
Good Hope.
r-
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
3 0016 06307 4076
i
f
1'
Web Moving Images Texts Audio Software Patron Info About IA Projects
Home American Libraries | Canadian Libraries | Universal Library | Community Texts | Project Gutenberg | Children's Library | Biodiversity Heritage Library | Additional Collections
Search: Advanced Search
Anonymous User (login or join us) Upload
See other formats
Full text of "Tempest-tossed: A Romance"
Google
This is a digital copy of a book that was preserved for generations on Hbrary shelves before it was carefully scanned by Google as part of a project
to make the world's books discoverable online.
It has survived long enough for the copyright to expire and the book to enter the public domain. A public domain book is one that was never subject
to copyright or whose legal copyright term has expired. Whether a book is in the public domain may vary country to country. Public domain books
are our gateways to the past, representing a wealth of history, culture and knowledge that's often difficult to discover.
Marks, notations and other maiginalia present in the original volume will appear in this file - a reminder of this book's long journey from the
publisher to a library and finally to you.
Usage guidelines
Google is proud to partner with libraries to digitize public domain materials and make them widely accessible. Public domain books belong to the
public and we are merely their custodians. Nevertheless, this work is expensive, so in order to keep providing this resource, we liave taken steps to
prevent abuse by commercial parties, including placing technical restrictions on automated querying.
We also ask that you:
+ Make non-commercial use of the files We designed Google Book Search for use by individuals, and we request that you use these files for
personal, non-commercial purposes.
+ Refrain fivm automated querying Do not send automated queries of any sort to Google's system: If you are conducting research on machine
translation, optical character recognition or other areas where access to a large amount of text is helpful, please contact us. We encourage the
use of public domain materials for these purposes and may be able to help.
+ Maintain attributionTht GoogXt "watermark" you see on each file is essential for informing people about this project and helping them find
additional materials through Google Book Search. Please do not remove it.
+ Keep it legal Whatever your use, remember that you are responsible for ensuring that what you are doing is legal. Do not assume that just
because we believe a book is in the public domain for users in the United States, that the work is also in the public domain for users in other
countries. Whether a book is still in copyright varies from country to country, and we can't offer guidance on whether any specific use of
any specific book is allowed. Please do not assume that a book's appearance in Google Book Search means it can be used in any manner
anywhere in the world. Copyright infringement liabili^ can be quite severe.
About Google Book Search
Google's mission is to organize the world's information and to make it universally accessible and useful. Google Book Search helps readers
discover the world's books while helping authors and publishers reach new audiences. You can search through the full text of this book on the web
at |http : //books . google . com/|
7
f
GENERAL LIBRARY
University OF Michigan.
rn
7-^
-t
^'L^ T':^^-t
,
Tempest-Tossed.
% ^omaitte.
BY
THEODORE TILTON.
ilfew and Hevised Titian.)
NEW YORK:
JOHN W. LOVELL CO., PUBLISHERS,
14 AND i^ Vesey Street.
CklFnUSBT.
bt theqdokb Tn/rox
Tuow-m
PrIHTINC AMD BoOlfBINDIr
1-I3 East iilA S
CHAPTER XVn.
HOPE DEFEBBED.
*'npHIS unforeseen calamity to the Coromandel," ex-
-L claimed her master, feeling a pang in his heart's
core as he surveyed the deck the next morning, *^is like a
sudden death in the family. ^. There is no hope of the
old hulk floating again. Here she must lie ^grounded in
this shallow brook forever. How often on the wide ocean
I used to think that my little company would die within
these wooden walls, and their bodies be borne about in this
drifting sepulchre ! But the Coromandel has found her own
grave before making ouj^s. strange caprice of fate, that a
ship which has outlived the lightnings and tempests of two
hemispheres should be wrecked in a quiet harbor at last !''
The family since they could not dwell in the capsized
cra^J, any more than they could have dwelt- on the side of a
precipitous rock ^returned to Francois Garcelon's house
on the shore.
" This house," said Mary, " which we thought to be un-
safe, has not been harmed; and yet the ship, which was
to have been our refuge, has gone to wreck."
After the family's removal to the house. Dr. Vail and
Barbara made a hasty tour of observation through the
stricken island.
The great sea-wave, caused by the earthquake, had risen
in various places to unequal heights along the banks and
beach, wreathing the whole sea-front with an irregular
237
238 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
winrow of such waifs and fragments as ordinarily mark the
water-line of a sea-coast. The old fringe of bleaching sea-
weeds had changed its place and risen higher. Fishes had
been cast up into the holes of high rocks ; and here and
there a frightened fin was still splashing in some accidental
basin left full of water by the retiring flood. The sand, in
spots, had been swept away, disclosing unsuspected rocks
beneath. The skeleton of the century-old wreck, instead
of being further unearthed, was buried deeper than ever
in its sandy grave. Fallen cocoa-nuts, pods of mimosas,
plantain-leaves, wilted orchids, and many broken branches
and blooms, of all kinds and colors, strewed the ground.
Stubborn trees and shrubs, over whose tops the last night's
briny wave had passed, now showed their leaves sprinkled
with salt, through the alchemy of the morning sun.
Faint snappings aad crackings were heard in the ground
^not the opening of new fissures, but the closing of old.
Wherever the crust had been thrown up beyond its former
level, and wherever the dip of the rocks had been changed
^there a slow, steady, murmurous progress of Nature had
begun for the recovery of her former planes and angles.
The upheaved coral-reefs, unable to maintain their heavy
weight at their now unnatural height, were already (though
imperceptibly) sinking to their yesterday's foundations.
The half-toppled tree-trunks were striving to regain their
lost rectitude. The bottom of the cove was stealthily
gravitating to its original depth.
This motion pervaded the whole island, and had been
several hours in progress before Dr. Vail detected it, for
it was like the creeping of a shadow on its dial.
This tendency of the earth to restore its disturbed crust
to its previous form has had many precedents in Nature.
It was by just such a motion that the Isle of Sabrina, after
being thrown up volcanically in the open sea off the Azores
n 1811, gradually went down again, and disappeared in
HOPE DEFEBRED. 239
the deep whence it came. It was by a simildr evanishment
that Graham^s Island, which reared itself suddenly in the
Mediterranean in 1832, took a slow and silent way out ol
existence. It was by the same process that several new
coral-reefs, sand-shoals, and dangerous banks, which arose
to vex the Caribbean Sea during the earthquake which
overtook Dr. Vail, were immediately bidden by nature to
draw their audacious heads dowfi again under the waves.
It was during this general retrogression that Dr. VaiFs
island, after swelling upward mto a partial distortion of
its surface^ had already begun, without a moment's delay,
to resume its normal shape '^ ^the upheaved coast settling
toward its ancient level ; the slanting cocoa-palms straight-
ening to their primeval pei-pendiculars ; the channel of the
cove deepening again to navigable fathoms ; and the
careened Coromandel leisurely tending toward an even
keel and level deck.
The ship, which on Tuesday night Dr. Vail thought to
be stranded forever, was on the following Saturday morn-
ing as freely afloat as if she had never been aground.
Meanwhile, for three nights in succession, the signal-fire
was lighted on the hill-top ; but, as no shipwrecked sailor
from the Good Hope reported himself in response to it,
and as a number of foolish little snipe every night flew like
midges into the flames, and left their tiny charred bodies
to draw tears from Barbara's eyes the next morning ^the
tender-hearted maiden begged her father to desist from
re-kindling a blaze which- thus, instead of succoring the
distressed, only martyred the innocent.
Day after day passed, bringing no claimants for the
Good Hope ; and though an occasional ship gleamed in the
blue distance, yet these hurrying merchantmen, taking the
shortest road to market, never approached near enough to
this out-of-the-way island to see Rodney VaiFs signal, or
at least to understand its petition and appeal.
240 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
As Nature quickly recovers from a great shock, so also
does Human Nature; and as the island quickly rallied
from the earthquake, so did the little family who now
dwelt in calm repose on its recently perturbed soil. The
human heart has a strange knack of making its past perils
augment its present peace. An unwonted cheeriness per-
vaded the little group, who, having been miraculously
preserved from death, now more than ever appreciated the
blessing of life.
Jezebel, who was the calmest of all, felt a quiet disap-
pointment that the earthquake had not fulfilled her predic-
tion, and had not proved to be the end of the world. She
still believed it to be a forerunner of that end. . She could
not help thinking that the recent convulsion so unlike
anything in her former experience ; so utterly (as she sup-
posed) out of the course of nature, and so wonderfully in
the line of Scriptural prophecies, was in very tnith the
great and terrible day of the Lord, wherein the framework
of the world would be consumed by " the spirit of His
breath. '' The good book, as she interpreted it, vividly
foreshadowed a fiery dissolution of all sublunary things.
Hour after hour she would picture to her imagination how
the " elements would melt with fervent heat ; ^^ how *^the
earth and the works that are therein would be burned up ; *'
and how the Lord would come " in clouds and with great
glory.''
Furthermore, not only Jezebel's picturesque interpreta-
tion of the Scripture, but her extreme age, led her now to
ponder on the Great Hereafter. One's own life is apt to
be, to one's own thought, the measure also of the world's
appointed span. Old Bel knew that the world was soon
to end, if not for others, at least for her.
^* Yes, my chillen," said she, *^ de time is short. What's
de good book say ? * Yet once more. Now dis word ^yet
once more signifieth de removal ob de tings which are
HOPE DEFEERED. 241
shaken, dat de tings which cannot be shaken may remain/
Now what tings hab been shaken ? Why, de wilderness
ob dis world wid all its trees and rocks ; dese hab been
wofuUy shaken. But what. place cannot be shaken ? Why,
de lan^ what floweth wid milk and honey. Dat lan^ cannot
be shaken. 'Cause de milk and honey would be spilt. So
dat Ian', like de word of de Lord, abides forever."
A strange quickening of the spiritual nature is often-
times youchsafed to the aged, as if to prepare them right
royally for their exchange of worlds. Such an experience
was giyen to Jezebel ^falling on her like the dew on Mount
Hermon. Her spirit was daily growing more solemn and
serene ; chastening her habitual jocularity into a quiet
fervor of thought and word ; pervading her affection for
Barbara with an inexpressible tenderness ; dnd even miti-
gating toward Beaver the buzzing criticisms which, on the
mid-ocean, she formerly furnished to that dog as his only
swarm of flies.
Dr. Vail in Ms outlook toward the future took a less
mystical and mor^ practical view including a plan for a
*n^w kayak, and a series of voyages from island to island
in search of an inhabited coast.
But this project was suddenly frustrated by an unfore-
seen event. The energetic man, partly through the shock
occasioned by his fearful experience in the raging flood,
and partly by the humid atmosphere occasioned by the
steady rains which were now fulfilling the watery almanac
for June and July, fell ill of a fever, and was bound a cap-
tive to his bed.
*^ Mary," he murmured, "of all times in my life when
I least could be patient under sickness, that time is now.
Our fellow-men dwell only a few leagues from us ^just a
day's sail ! I know it, I feel it and yet I am now suddenly
prevented from going forward to clasp their hands. How
true it is that
242 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
" ' To be weak is to be miserable.' "
Barbara, during Dr. VaiPs tedious illness, became the
master-spirit of the family. She took her father's i)lace
in all out-door duties : ^visiting the ship daily ; watching
the cans of provisions for signs of mildew, and oiling the
rusty spots ; trying the pumps as regularly as at sea ; air-
ing the cabin, forecastle, and hold ; mending every break-
age in the ferry-basket ; and supervising the whole ship as
an admiral his frigate. Every morning she hoisted the
flag on the hill-top, and with her spy-glass scanned
the horizon. She gathered fresh fruits for the family
daily. Moreover, she took constant care of Beaver, who
sometimes needed as much nursing as her prostrate father.
And in doing*all these duties, she rapidly showed how re-
sponsibility, when laid unexpectedly on a young woman,
contributes quickly to discipline her mind, to develop her
character, and to beautify her face.
Jezebel had always been content with Barbara's long ex-
ile at sea. The old sibyl's faith had never wavered that
Divine Providence had planned this strange life for the
pure maiden to a holy end ; that is, had secluded her from
the world in order to keep her untainted by its blots and
blights. The pious nurse, in watching the increasing
sweetness of the grave girPs spirit, was satisfied that Provi-
dence had seen the end from the beginning, and had chosen,
for Barbaria better than her parents themselves could have
chosen for their child.
"Yes," thought Bel, "de great commandment ob de
Lord am fulfilled. ^ Little chillen keep yourselves unspot-
ted ob de world.' Dat's de beginnin' now what's de end-
in'? What's de good book say? *Dou art all fair, my
love, dar is no spot in dee!' Yes, dat's what Barbara is
fair and wid out spot 1"
Barbara, meanwhile, was quite unconscious of her saint-
HOPE DEFEBBED. 243
hood, but appeared to herself a restless, yearning, wistful
prisoner, whose partial contentment with her dungeon was
based on her lively hope of a speedy deliverance from it,
**My child, ^^ said her father, ^* happiness depends on
,the mind, not on the estate. It is an inward quality, not
an outward condition. The Arab dwells in his wretched
tent in the desert, yet is happy ; but the king in his palace,
carousing at his banquet-table, is often the most miserable
of men. My darling, you are restless, but I hope not
wretched. ^^
^^ Father dear,'* replied Barbara, " I am grateful to have
escaped the sea, and found the shore. True, our little
island is not the Happy Valley which Easselas sought, and
which I fondly hoped to find. Hours of misery I have
had in this place. Can I ever forget my first horrible
night in the sepulchre ? Can I ever forget the earth-
quake, and the anguish it brought to us all ? Nevertheless,
the land is better than the sea, and a house is better than
a ship. So, except for my longings to see the world
longings which I cannot repress ^longings which will take
no content except for these I am happy. So are we all. We
suffer neither hunger nor thirst. Nor are we chained like
Prometheus to our few little rocks to be devoured here by
^ vultures. We are comfortable pi-isoners, who have learned
how to endure captivity. Then, too, my dear father, you
have been ill, but are getting well and this is gladness
enough for me.^'
Barbara's spirit was bright, yet not without a shade;
her sky had ceased to be full of tempests, yet carried
clouds ; she no longer despaired, yet remained dissatis-
fied.
"What if," asked her father, testing her fortitude,
"what if circumstances should compel us to remain on this
isle for the rest of our lives ?-^to grow old here like Fran9oi8
Garcelon ? Does it not sadden you to think of that gre-
244 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
bearded hermit wasting away in this wilderness ? He has
left us heirs of his goods ^what if he should leaye us heirs
also of his fate ? ^'
"Father," observed Barbara, thoughtfully, "I have
made a discovery. I have discovered an eighth day of the*^
week. The whole seven may be evil, but the eighth will;
be good. The eighth day of the week is To-Morrow. It is
the day of our redemption."
Dr. Vail, even in his prostration, was a man in whom the
steel-spring had not snapped. There are wise master-
builders of life, and architects of hope, who can throw a
solid arch from the present forward into the future; as if
transmuting a rainbow into iron and stone. Eodney Vail
was among these cunning masons. He never once, even
to his own secret thoughts, admitted that an unbridged
gulf could exist forever between his little family and the
world.
Meanwhile, Barbara's increased duties and responsibili-
ties supplied to her, more and more, a wholesome elixir of
life. Toil, study, care, vigil, business, something to do ;
this is the mind's surest panacea for peace. A soiTowing
heart, lying at rest in its own languor and ennui, will cor-
rode inwardly from an accumulated rust of unshed tears.
Barbara, who wisely plunged into self-f orgetf ul toils, began
to make studies of the island and its tropic treasures. She
fell in love with the sea-girt spot, as if she had been bom
on it. Indeed, her birth-place was on it, for she was bom i
on the ship, and the ship was now parfc of the isle. As
Barbara knew every plank of the one, so she soon knew ^
every rood of the other.
All her first awkwardness of step she soon overcame, and
trod the virgin soil with virgin feet as blithely as a High-
land lassie trips along her native moors.
The rain was no hindrance to Barbara's expeditions, for
ut of some thin water-proof fabrics on the ship, after a
HOPE DEFEBBED. 245
shapely pattern cut by her mother, she made ior herself a
cloak which no water-drop could trickle through. Clothed
with this armor against the arrowy rain, it was her delight
to go out and be pelted by the showers.
*^ The gray gulls and I," she gayly exclaimed, " are birds
of a feather. ^^
But even in the rainy season, it did not rain every hour
hardly every day. There was sunshine frequently, even
though not long at a time. Both in rain and sunshine,
Barbara was out of doors, roaming like one of the dwarfed
wild goats of which a few still remained among the rocks
at the north end of the isle.
During her father's illness, she frequently brought an
armful of flowers and strewed them on his bed, to be told
their names and pretty tricks of growth and bloom.
The little wild garden gave so much scope to her rest-
lessness ; it spread so rich a rambling-ground under her
feet ; it accosted her with so many appeals both to her eyes
and ears ; it yielded her so delicious a fatigue by day, and
so sweet a sleep at night that she gradually expelled her
previous bad opinion of the world as a place of skulls.
It was noticed by her parents that the watery atmosphere
had taken off the sunburn from her cheeks, so that she
ceased to be any longer a nut-brown maid.
The bonny Barbara, with a figure just above the medium
height, lithe, compact, and sinewy, was as agile as a squir-
rel, and could leap, climb, chase down her frolicsome flock
of pigmy goats, wrestle with them in gay gambols, and
catch up the kicking kids in her conquering arms.
She was a true blonde. Her hair had the color of bearded
wheat, and looked at a distance as if she were a reaper car.
rying her sheaves twisted about her head and trailing down
her back. These tresses, thick and wavy, constantly changed
their tint from bright to brighter, according as she passed
from shade to sunshine. Under the sun's actual rays thin
246 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
hair gave back gold for goldl A few fringes, escaping
from the band, strayed down her temples, wandering like
Milton's " gadding vine.'' Whenever she let loose her hair
over her shoulders, it covered her like a gay cloak, or like
the pontiff's gilded vestment when he kneels at the altar
of St. Peter's. The ends of the tresses were bleached into
a lighter hue than that of the thicker mass ^like a Venetian
woman's hair under an Italian sky.
Barbara's face was Greek in outline, the forehead and
nose making but slight departure from one continuous
mould. Her eyes were large and dark-blue, as if borrow-
ing their deep color from the double azure of sea and sky.
Her neck was a comely column. Her head was loftily
poised, indicating spirited behavior and native pride ; and
when she ran a race in the wind's eye, the light-fingered
breezes would pick open her hair-braids, shake them loose,
and send them flying backward like flames from a torch.
This unique maid ^unique as her destiny ^knew but
one ache or pain ; and this was the restless beating of a
heart baffled in its quest for life, love, and peace.
Young as she was, she had now arrived at those years
which bring the most chaotic upheavals of the human
heart the most bewildering conflicts that shake the breast
of man or woman. The narrow belt between sixteen and
twenty is the tropical zone, if not of human life, at least
of human love. During this period the heart's most
tumultuous emotions arise. Everything before this is
temperate and need not be curbed ; everything after it is
comparatively safe, through the warnings of past experi-
ence ; but everjrthing in it is tossed and jarred as with
tempest and earthquake.
One day, sitting in a favorite haunt among the rocks,
reading the life of Zenobia, Barbara flung down the old
magazine that contained it, and said to herself,
** I am always reading about other women. But am not
HOPE DEFEBBED. 247
I also a voman ? What woman, then, am /f Who shall
tell me something of my own self ? "
She laid her finger against her forehead, as if question-
ing the subtile autobiographer within for information
concerning her own identity.
" Alas, I know not : I, who am a stranger to the world,^
am a stranger also to myself."
The eager-minded maid trailed her tresses through her
hand, and after pensively surveying them for a moment,
exclaimed, " I am a yellow-winged insect that happfensto,
be myself instead of some other moth. If it were another,
I should know the creature better. But since it is myself,
it is a puzzle to me. Is there any such thing 'as self-
knowledge ? Then from what book may I learn it ? "
Barbara, in finding daily novelties in Nature, found
none so marvelous or mysterious as herself. She knew
how to cut the rind of the milk-tree for the white secret
of its juice ; she taught the tiny fishes in the cove to eat
sweet morsels from her hands ; she lured the crabs to con-
fess the process of their bursting shells ; she questioned
the beetles how they rolled the stone of Sisyphus without
letting it tumble down ; she permitted the little spiteful
scorpions to snap at the chiding forefinger which she
pointed at them in rebuke of their ill-nature ; she hung
over the humming-birds as these did over the cactus-
flowers ; she held - discourse with the smooth-necked
iguana ; she caught the papilio butterfly and let him go
again for the joy of beholding him regain his liberty ;
ail these living creatures Barbara saw and studied ; and
she then reflected that she herself was simply one addi-
tional creature among them, perhaps a good deal like
them, and must be put into the same category with them
all being equal parts of Nature's common plan, and busy
figures in her general scene.
In proportion as she sharpened her scrutiny into the
248 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
earth's outward orb, she deepened her probings into her
heart's inmost self.
The proper study of womankind is woman.
In this recondite lore, Barbara found her chief teacher
and pupil, her best problem and example all in her
simple, and ignorant self.
" This little book," said she, picking up again the drop-
ped magazine, *^ tells me that Zeno, when asked, * What
is life?' replied, * Inquire of the dead.' But he gave
that answer to those who dwelt in the living world, and
who might well appeal from life to death. But / have not
yet lived among the living. When / ask, What is life ?
I want to go first to the living before I am sent to the
dead. But, is it possible that I am to catch my first
glimpse of mankind, not among their living faces, bul
among their departed shades ? Am I to make my exit
from the world before I have made my entrance into it ?
No, it cannot be, I invoke heaven's justice ! If Divine
Providence, and not chance, or fate, rules the universe,
how can I be left banished forever from the human
family ? No, my captivity must one day end my chain
shaU surely be broken my liberty is yet to come."
CHAPTER XVin.
NARCI8SA.
BAEBABA sometimes resorted to a conning stratagem
as a means of escape fx;om her self -consciousness^ and
from the morbid misery that attended it. She would bor-
row her mother's hand-glass a little oyal piece of French
plate, bound in a black-walnut rim. Carrying this glass
with her into 'the woods, or by the sea, or among the rocks,
the beautiful maid would sit and scrutinize herself in the
magical mirror ^a / mirror made magical by the face re-
flected in it.
Barbara consulted this glass not from yanity a desire
to see her own face ; but from sympathy a, desire to see
another's.
Vanity is not a wild-flower, but a garden- vine ; it grows
not to please God, but men ; it plants itself where there
are eyes to gaze at it ; and as Barbara's world was devoid
of the common multitude of human spectators, her heart
had not yet ripened its native seeds (and weeds) of vain
display.
Barbara went to the glass to find in it, not herself, but
a companion. The fair creature who dwelt in Barbara's
miiTor was invested with a personality distinct from the
gazer's own. The glass-holder's fancy had long ago pre-
tended that this other person was her sister. Barbara had
conferred on this evanescent twin the name Narcissa ^b^^*-^
249
260 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
rowed from the fable of Narcissus, who contemplated his
image in a glassy brook.
If the intimacy between Barbara and her sister Nar-
cissa should appear suspiciously great, let no cynical critic
of human nature assign it to a beautiful woman's deyotiou
to her own looks. Gazing modestly at her innocent hand-
glass, Barbara was altogether too ignorant of life to know
how
'* One good custom could corrupt the world,"
and she little dreamed that in the corrupted world for
which she breathed forth sighing breaths against her glass,
no fair woman oyer escapes the suspicion of a little idola-
try toward her sister Narcissa.
Barbara, to make the counterfeit presentment fair and
fascinating, would sometimes prepare for her interviews
by decorating herself with chaplets of leaves, grasses, and
flowers. Barbara would then talk to Narcissa with vary-
ing expressions of countenance ^now smiling, now frown-
ing, now making grotesque faces like a coy actress feigning
a part ; in every way rendering her twin companion ^her
other self as charming and winsome as possible.
The more beautiful Narcissa appeared, the better Barbara
liked her society.
Sometimes the image-making maiden would pretend to
be neither herself nor Narcissa ; but, putting herself out-
side of both, would question one concerning the other.
"Narcissa, my darling," she would say, "when have
you seen Barbara ? "
" 0, I see her every day."
"What does she look like ? "
" She looks like you."
" 0, dear ! I am no wiser now than before. Tell me
something else about her. What is her temper ? ''
^^ Well, my dear I must call it peevish and fretful."
ISTABCISSA. 251
^'Narcissa^ what can be the trouble on Barbara's
mind?''
"WeU, it is easily told/'
*^ Then please tell me, Narcissa."
'' No, I must not."
"Why not ? "
Because it is a great secret."
Narcissa, you may tell it to 7}ie just to me."
Will you promise me, dearest, if I tell it to you, that
you will neyer mention it to anybody else ? "
"Yes, Narcissa, I promise."
"Well, then, listen, Barbara is in loye !"
"But, dear Narcissa, is not love a happy thing? If,
then, Barbara is in loye, why should she not be happy ?
But you know she is wretched."
" Ah, my dear, that also is easily explained. Barbara
is in loye, but has no loyer. And that is enough to make
any woman miserable. Is it not ? "
In this strain, or some other like it, Barbara would run
on by the hour, in talks with Narcissa.
Barbara continued also her girlish habit of writing let-
ters to real or imaginary persons, and of receiying pre-
tended answers. In this way she held quaint exchanges
with supposed correspondents in all parts of the world.
The most frequent of these feigned and far-off writers was
Lucy Wilmerding, to whom Barbara would address a brief
letter of inquiry concerning the sights to be seen in Paris
or Rome, and for a reply would take one of Lucy's old
letters and read it as if just receiyed by foreign mail.
" My dear Narcissa," said she, one day, "Barbara has
a question for you."
"What is it?"
"Narcissa, Barbara wants to know if you think she
could eyer possibly be a princess ? "
Well," replied Narcissa, "she might be; that is, if
((
252 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
the Prince should come to offer her his hand and a
coronet."
*' But, Narcissa, will he ever come ? "
" Ah, my dear, I don't know."
" Dear Narcissa, how can Barbara wait foreyer ? She
will lose her patience and break her heart."
'* Tell Barbara," replied Narcissa, "to remember how '
Cinderella sat forlorn in the ashes, and yet the glass slip-
per was brought to her at last."
**Alas, dear Narcissa, they who expect to walk in
glass slippers may find themselves shod with brittle
hopes."
"All hopes," responded Narcissa, " must be of glass, I
think ; for they are easily 0, so easily shivered and
shattered."
"Dear Narcissa, is it so ? ^then what is to become of
poor Barbara's hopes, that are all afloat on the sea in little
fragile glass ships ? "
" My dear," exclaimed Narcissa, " what a foolish crea-
ture Barbara has grown to be ! Age does not improve her.
When she was a child, she was a sunbeam all the daylong.
Now she is full of clouds and gloom. Her bosom seems
to be filled with nothing but heart-ache."
"Ah, Narcissa, did you ever see a young man ? "
"No."
" Do you know of one ? somewhere ? "
"Yes."
" Who is he ? '
" don't ask me ask Barbara."
" Where does he live ? "
"0 far, far away."
"What is he like?"
** He has dark hair and brave black ey^s."
"How do you know ? "
**I have it from Barbara's mother she knew him
NABCISSA. 263
when he was a child 0, such a beautiful child 1 ^and he
has a tame squirrel in a cage."
" How old is this young man now ? "
" Twenty-four."
^^ Does Barbara think about him often ?"
'' Yes, all the time."
"Has Barbara spoken to her mother or father about
this young prince ? "
"0, not for the world ! "
** What is his name ?"
" Hush ! I shall not tell anybody his name,"
" Why not, Narcissa ?"
" Because Barbara forbids me ever to mention it."
^^ Is it the same name which that forlorn girl so long ago
wrote on a piece of paper and set adrift in a plum-jar ? "
"Yes."
** And then again in a marmalade cup ? "
" Yes."
" And then in a white-honey glass ? "
" Yes."
^* And 'then in a Spanish-olive jar ? "
"Yes."
" And then in many other little glass jars, and vases,
and jellj-cups, and wine-bottles making a whole flotilla
of ships, all sent forth over the sea on lovers search for its
one lover ? "
*^ Narcissa," exclaimed Barbara, discontinuing the third
person, and answering directly, " you never comfort me
you only remind me of my misery. But do you think
that my heart will always be bowed down ?"
"Yes," replied Narcissa, "a woman's heart must al-
ways be bowed down so long as she has an idol to whom
she kneels."
" Narcissa, you are a gypsy how much shall I pay you
for all this fortune-telling ? "
^54 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
" my dear, anything you please."
'^Narcissa, if I make you something that will just fit
you, will you promise to wear it ? "
"Yes."
" Then I will make you a fool's-cap."
^ Barbara then, in turning away from Karcissa, would
yearn for some real and living companion of her own age
with whom to compare herself, in order to gain a more
satisfying self-knowledge ; but, having no such companion
outside of herself, she would bravely question her own
mind, thus :
"Can I sing ? Yes, I can sing." She would even ac-
knowledge that to the birds she could give back song for
song ; that she could
** Murmur by the water-brooks
A sweeter music than their own ; **
but her perplexity was, though she could do all this, yet
as compared with other maidens far away, was her voice
harsh or sweet ? This she could not ascertain. " 0,"
she exclaimed, " how vexatious it is, not to be sure whether
I am a crow or a nightingale."
In like manner she inquired of herself whether she was
homely or fair. But on this point, too, she had no chance
to make judgment by comparison. "I do not know,
whether I am a beauty or a fright," she sighed. And what
problem could have been more tormenting to a woman's
mind?
" Am I educated and intelligent, or only a poor little
dunce ? " She could not guess which ; for, having never
been a scholar in a class with competitors, she had never
measured her own proficiency with theirs.
" Am I good or bad ? " Here too she was equally per-
plexed. Her heart was such an uncertain sea ^now in
quiet, now in tempest ^that sometimes she imagined her-
KABCIS8A. 355
self a saint, more often a sinner ; * for how can I tell/'
thought she, " whether I am one of the wise or the fool'
ish virgins ? and my father says that even the wise are
foolish enough/'
Was she a filial daughter, or a grief to her parents ?
Ever since she had experienced her quickened love for
them, she frequently chid herself for imaginary short-
comings, now toward her mother, now toward her father.
" Suppose," said she, "that my parents had had other chil-
dren would my brothers and sisters have caused such
trouble and anxiety as I have done ? " But the more she
pondered this query, the less she could answer it.
Was she rich or poor ? She was not consciously either ;
for as riches and poverty are comparative conditions, she
was imable to say whether she was of high station or low.
" I do not know," she sighed, " whether I am a peasant
or a queen."
Barbara constantly plied herself with these and with a
great multitude of other anxious inquiries, which she
could easily ask to her bewilderment, but could never
answer to her satisfaction.
" Who am I ? what am I ? where am I ? what is to be-
come of me?"
This was Barbara's unanswered catechism, and however
often she propounded it to herself, still its high-sounding
questions elicited only faint-sounding echoes of themselves.
The fair forehead on which her meditative forefinger
was laid with a pensive touch of inward inquiiy ^as a
curious pilgrim rests his staff against the Sphinx kept its
secret to itself, and was willing that the anxious ques-
tioner, though abundantly alive, should remain ignorant
of life.
The great reason why Barbara was such a perplexity to
her own mind, was not owing to her peculiar seclusion, so
different from that of other young women, but to the
266 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
natural enigma which every young, gifted and restless
human soul, even amid the most fortunate surroundings,
must always be to its ev^-aspiring and ever-baffled self.
If Barbara could not tell whether she was one thing or
another ; whether her mind was educated or ignorant ;
whether her character was lovely or vicious ; whether her
soul was pure or wayward ; all this was because lier facul-
ties were still in their formative process, and had not yet
precipitated themselves into the permanent crystal of their
final mould.
On the one hand, as to her intellectual education, it had
gone much farther than that of most young women (or
young men) of her years ; for her parents were rare in-
structors ; but their fair pupil was unaware of the superior
advantage which she had always possessed over most others
of her own age in the crowded world.
On the other hand, as to her moral development, al-
though this had been of the highest order possible in the
circumstances, yet the circumstances themselves notwith-
standing JezebePs theory to the contrary were not pro-
pitious to Barbara's best moral and spiritual discipline.
The secluded maid had dwelt remotely aloof from the
world^s common temptations to evil, and was therefore de-
prived of the wholesome opportunity of resisting these
insidious but salutary enemies of the soul. This resistance
is a holy war which all must wage who hope to win a tnie
victory of life. In a great degree, Barbara's life had con-
sisted in doing neither wrong nor right. Her moral stal-
wartness had never yet stiffened under the buffet and
brunt of the world's rude blows. She now dwelt like Eve
in a secluded garden, yet without Eve's two instructors
the tempting serpent and the flaming sword. But the
serpent that crept into Paradise, and the sword that flashed
over its gates, have ever since been twin guardian angels
of mankind. The one brings temptation ^the other,
KAECISSA. 257
pnnishment. Temptation and punishment are the chief
aids to yirtue ; they yield a brave culture to the soul ; they
are earthly forms of heavenly discipline.
^^Alas !" exclaimed the troubled catechist who always
began her questionings with pride only to end them with
humility " it is only too plain, the more I look into my-
self, that I am nothing but a poor, half -savage creature,
shut out from the civilized world because I am not fitted
to enter into it."
To every aspect of Nature, Barbara's eyes were open, and
her soul was reverent. She delighted in the pretty story
told of Linnaeus, who, whenever he discovered a new
flower, thanked heaven for the sight. She worshipped at
the holy altar of a religion that lifts its homage
** From Nature up to Nature*s God."
In studying the divine handiwork of creation, she sought
not only for outward signs but inward significations. She
held mystical communion with the flowers, the trees, the
birds, the winds, and the waves.
She made the land as completely her own as she had
made the sea ; she was the fair mistress of both ; and
sometimes as she walked with bare and shining feet along
the sea-sands, following the foamy edge of
** The league-long roller thundering on the reef,*'
or as she went trailing through the dewy grass with cool,
moist, morning tread, she seemed like some stray goddess
from the Olympian realm. Indeed she might have per-
sonateji the divine Venus herself, who once walked this
earthly globe with so celestial step that under her footfalls
the sea feathered into foam, and the land blossomed into
flowers.
258 TEHPEST-TOSSED.
"Mary/* asked Dr, Vail one day, **when you lived in
the world, did you ever see a fairer or nobler creature than
our daughter Barbara ?**
" No," said her mother proudly, as many mothers have
said before, and will say again. Mrs. Vail's unprejudiced
judgment, unwarped by parental bias, told her that Bar-
bara must have seemed to all the world could its millions
of admiring eyes have beheld her nothing less than one
of its chiefest wonders and delights.
Whatever she did, whether taming the goats, mocking
the birds, gathering the fire-flies, defying the rains, answer-
ing the winds, or invading the floods Barbara did every-
thing with such a splendid, restless, mad-cap energy that
her father exclaimed one day, struck with her exuberance
of spirits,
^* Barbara, you are a wild Diana, wilder than the wil-
derness."
Dr. Vail's illness and convalescence continued nearly
three months ^through June, July, and August. The
island, during the first two months, was daily drenched
with the outpourings of the rainy season ; but, during the
third, was perfumed with the same fragrant airs which
Columbus found so balmy, and which his companions mis-
took for the breath that blew through Eden. Having
been fever-smitten and almost death-struck, the physician
was still his own patient pale and haggard. He now took
advantage of the fine weather to walk a little every day in
the cool mornings, leaning on his daughter's arm.
At first these walks were verv short not farther than
from the house to a near fresh-water spring and back
again. Dr. Vail imagined that the water possessed a
medicinal tincture of iron. He drank from this fountain
of life with daily invigoration.
At length, still leaning on the same beauteous arm
that had never been pressed against another man, he
NARCISSA. 259
walked to the coye to set his glad eyes once more on .the
Coromandel,
^^Ah, Barbara/' said he jubilantly, ^Hhis is a happy
sight. When I last saw the Coromandel, she was on her
beam-ends. The brave old ship rallied from the earth-
quake many weeks sooner than her master has done, who
has not recovered yet. Barbara, if you and I are spared
to enter the world, the old ship must enter with us. And
once there, she must never be put to any sordid or common
use, but only to some sweet charity ^perhaps to be a
merciful hospital for weather-beaten sailors like our-
selves.'*
Barbara, who had for several weeks been preparing a
surprise for her father, led him one morning, under pre-
tence of varying their walks, to the little boat Good Hope.
The maiden had planted it round about with vines and
flowers, which she had dug up by the roots from various
parts of the island, and had massed together about the
little wreck in brilliant profusion. The rain had touched
them with a magic of swift and luxuriant growth. They
grew up between the broken planks, gently hiding all signs
of the disaster ^just as on the field of Waterloo, a few
weeks after the battle, the midsummer vines had already
grown up through the rents and holes which the cannon-
shots had made in the fences and walls.
"You see, dear father, '' said Barbara, "that our Good
Hope is every day budding into fuller bloom.''
Among the flowers which Barbara had transplanted to
grace the pinnace was a black rose ^its petals resembling
flakes of soft black satin. It was like a common rose in
stalk, thorn, calyx, shape, fragrance, and all ; only, instead
of being red, pink, or white, it was black as jet.
Barbara, to whom all flowers were an equal novelty, saw
nothing singular in this vagary of Nature. But her father,
who had once heard that such an ebony rose existed s"" "*"
260 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
where in the tropics, but. who had never credited the
report, was as pleased with this new glory as if he had
shaken diamonds from it, instead of dew&.
*^ This," said he, ^*is
" ' Helen's beauty in the brow of Egypt. *
It is Solomon's canticle, and says, ^I am black but comely.*
It is Jezebel's own flower ^her young wild sister of the
wilderness ; pluck it and take it to her."
Barbara carried it carefully in her left hand, while
her right arm was her father's prop during the return
walk.
"Jezebel," said Eodney, after reaching tKe house
(Barbara concealing the strange flower behind her), " did
you ever see a coal-black rose ? "
" Law, yes, Massa Vail," replied Bel, a pleased air of
reminiscence glowing in her face. " Coal Black Eose ?
Law, yes ; she was de ole buttermilk woman ob Salem ;
she went round in de mornins, ringin' her bell, and cryin',
^Want any buttermilk ?' Yes, dat was her hame Coal
Black Eose.'^
" 0, no," replied Barbara, " my father means this rose
^look at it," and she gave it into Jezebers hand.
" Well, I declar' ! " exclaimed the elder of the Ethiops,
as much pleased as if gazing at a new-bom babe of that
race. ^^ What's de Lord agwine to do nex' 1 He keeps
a-workin' in de garden all de time. Jist as like as not, if
He was agwine to 'stroy de world to-morrow. He would he
makin' new roses in it to-day. Well, what's de good book
say? ^Cometh up like a flower.' Now, dat's been de
way de white folks hab come up for dey are like de
flowers. Look at dis yer girl's rosy cheeks and blue eyes
jist like de flowers ; and look at dis yer har\ jist de color
ob de marigold" stroking Barbara's flowing tresses,
NABCISSA, 261
''Yes, dis lamb, she!s always been a comin' up like a
flower, because she is all de flowers put into one. But how
could ole Bel ever 'spec to come up like a flower, when
dar nebber was no flower black enough for her to come up
like ? Dis black rose would do, but de springtime is over for
ole 3el. It's too late now for dis ole woman to be a comin'
up like any kind ob a flower."
Just then her clumsy hand jarred the ripe rose, so that
the rose-leaves fell in a pretty rain at her feet.
'* Look dar ! " she exclaimed, beholding what she thought
an emblem full of moral meaning, '^ what's de good book
say? ^De grass withereth de flower fadeth.' Yes, de
flower fadeth see, here de leaves hab dropped off jist as
black as if dey was all dressed 'gwine to a funeral. Lawks
a massy, if de time hab long passed for ole Bel to eome up
like dis black rose, de time hab jist come for ole Bel to
drop off like dese dyin' leaves. Yes, my chillen, ole Bel is
jist in time, not to come up but only to drop off like a
flower."
Dr. Vail, as soon as he grew strong enough to swing an
axe; cut open a vista among the trees surrounding the
house, in order to command from its threshold a view of
the ocean.
A few days afterward he was rewarded for his labor
with a sight that shot a thrill through his soul.
^' A steamer ! " he exclaimed, " and what ? yes, sending
a boat ashore ! For us ? No, it must be for water. But
the crew shall take us too. I must meet them at the south
beach I God be praised for deliverance at last ! "
He made this glad discovery just at daybreak. The
family were all asleep. He roused no one but Mary, to
whom he briefly announced the news. Then, without
waiting another moment, he started with mad speed for
the southern end of the island.
Did he run like a sick man ? Not he. He might havo
262 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
been mistaken on the way for Apollo or lithe Diomei
The fable gives wings to Mercury's feet. With flying foot-
steps Rodney Vail sped toward the sea-beach ^toward the
strange ship toward the human racetoward all the
goals of life at once : ^as if they were all to be rashed at,
panted f or^ and oyertaken at one leap and bound. ^
CHAPTEK XIX.
FACE TO FACE.
^^"iyrY dear Barbara/^ said her mother, "X wonder why
-1^^ your father stays so long ? I hope it is good news
that detains him. 0, to think of hailing a rescuing ship
of returning to our own land ! ^'
Since Dr. VaiFs departure from the house^ more than an
hour had now elapsed.
Barbara stood on the stony threshold of Frangois Garce-
lon's old hut, and gazed through the vista in the trees
toward the ocean.
" My dear mother,^' said she, " no ship is there father
is always seeing some approaching vessel where none is in
sight. But there is one old hulk always within hailing
distance ; that is the Ooromandel. I will go and look for
my father at the cove ; he is probably fixing the ferry-
basket : he took it off yesterday to mend it.^*
And Barbara sauntered off, singing.
Dr. Vail, in hurrying to the south beach to reconnoitre
the strange boat^s crew, was not aware that eastward of this
little green solitude, about seventy miles distant, lay the
English island of Barbados hiding its hills just below the
horizon, and hiding among them the mimic city of Bridge-
town and the quiet roadstead of Carlisle Bay.
The earthquake which, three months before, ran with such
violence between Trinidad and St. Kitts, touched Bar-
bados with the faint pulse of a spent wave. The nine days'
263
264 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
wonder had now become a forgotten event in Bridgetown,
giving placer to a new topic of town-talk, which was the
recent arrival of the British frigate Tantalus of the Coast
Survey the same ship that, seventeen years before, had
re-ch^ed the harbor of Cape Town, just as she had now
come to do for Carlisle Bay.
Admiral Gillingham was still her commander now a
white-haired veteran who had long served his country with-
out entailing on it a cost of gunpowder, except for friendly
salutes.
On the hot afternoon previous to Rodney Vail's discovery
of the strange steamer, the aged admiral sat on board the
Tantalus in Carlisle Bay, under an awning on the quarter-
deck, smoking a friendly pipe with a bluff companion still
older than himself.
As the two puffed together, the veteran coast-surveyor
looked less like a great commander than did his robust,
gigantic, and antique guest ; for this venerable fellow-
smoker who out-smoked the admiral was Capt. John
Scarborough, otherwise Scawberry, 'otherwise Scaw.
There he sat the same old son of thunder ; the same
uneasy Hercules, too heavy for his chair ; the same mas-
sive face and frosty figure-head ; the same crisp, snappy,
kind-hearted curmudgeon who used to toss up the lad
Philip Chantilly in his grandfatherly arms.
Capt. John Scarborough was in Barbados to settle the
estate of his deceased twin-brother James ; who, having
a few years previously removed from London to Bridge-
town, had there died, leaving his affairs to be administered
by John, This mournful task having now been frater-
nally executed, Capt. Scaw was waiting an opportunity to
return to South Africa. Meanwhile he enjoyed a daily
pipe with his old acquaintance Admiral Gillingham. There
had once been a tiff between them concerning the Coroman-
del, but this little breeze had long ago died away, and the
FACE TO PACE. 265
old men now met each other with unruffled and tobacco-
quieted mfnds.
" As a Briton," said Gillingham, " I do not give my sym-
pathy to the Northern side in this American civil war ; but
if I were a Yankee, I think I could catch a certain Confed-
erate privateer in a twinkling."
^* What ship are you 'intin' at ?" asked Scaw, who still
practised his old-time ill-usage of the letter H.
*^ I don't know her name/' answered Gillingham, "nor
her armament, nor anything about her, except only that
she is a small steamer, out of order, and hiding away for
safety not thirty leagues from this port."
" Where his this cockatrice's den ? " asked Scaw.
" The ship is anchored in a cove among the Grenadines,"
replied Gillingham.
" Well," answered Scarborough, " she's then safe in Brit-
ish waters, protected by hintemational law."
" True," observed the admiral, " but she cannot stay
there forever ; and if I were a Northern cruiser, I would
lie in wait for her as a cat for a mouse, and pounce on her
when she ventured from her hole."
" 'Ow did you git your hinformation ? "
^^ It was told me to-day by Lieut. Spotswood, of the
Calabria, lately from Trinidad. On his course hither he
yesterday passed the Grenadines, and noticed that one of
them was giving harbor to a dismantled steamer. - He
looked at the chart to identify the roadstead and found
that the island was not laid down. The night was moon-
lit, and he could see distinctly with his glass. The se-
creted vessel was well-hidden among cocoa-palms appar-
ently undergoing repairs masts out, smoke-stack down,
and bowsprit gone. That, sir, was a Confederate priva-
teer I will wager a bottle of Madeira on it. Spotswood
gave me the latitude and longitude on this piece of
paper."
966 TEMPE8T-T088ED.
Tlie tvo old men then went into the chart-room and
inspected the fanlty chart.
"I hear," continued QiUingham, "that your old friend,
Oliver Ghantilly, now commands an American gunboat ;
at least, there's a Capt. Chantilly registered to the gun-
boat Tamaqna ; is this the same man ? "
"Haye aye, sir," replied Scaw, "and what's more and
what yon and I can't say as bachelors which the same no
man bought to be Holiver ChantiUy has got a son who's
the better man o' the two."
" Do they still chase the wild goose ? " asked the ad-
miral; "do they still expect to find the Coromandel ? "
"Yes," answered Scaw. "Those two men keep paid
look-outs to this day at St. 'Elena, the Fanlklands, Bio
Janeiro, and Cape St. Roque ; they salary a shippin' clerk
at Liverpool to collect and file all reports o' wrecks and
castaways ; they 'aye spent guinea hafter guinea in gettin'
tranaciipts of hall the bottles found at sea and reporte4 at
Loudon, Paris and WashiDgton ; yes, and they 'ave like-
wise pnahed their hobservations round the 'Om though
there's no chance that the Coromandel could 'ave gone so
low down as that."
"She has gone," said GiUingham, "still lower down
she bus gone to the bottom."
This remark would have roused old Scaw into a master-
ly rago, had not his attention just at that moment been
diTcrti'd by the distant firing of a gun on the bay.
" What ship is that ? " asked the admiral of a midship-
man ; for an incoming cruiser was thus loudly announcing
her arriyal ; a war-vessel under steam, and fl.ying the
American flag.
" It is the American gunboat Tamaqna," was the mid-
shipman's reply.
"Speak of the devil," cried Gillingham, "and he is al-
ways on the spot."
FACE TO FACE. 267
Scarborough was smitten with sudden delight. The
Tamaqua ? His friend Oliver Chantilly's vessel in the
offing ? Could it be possible ?
^^ Hadmiral/* said Scaw, "I would like to be rowed to
that wessel at once ; for if that's. Holiver Chantilly, 'ere^s.
a ^and o' mine that wants a grip o' 'is ; and no delay, sir ;
for life's too short to lose time before goin' to greet an old
friend."
Capt. Scaw was immediately set afloat in a jolly-boat.
The Tamaqua had anchored a mile from the Tantalus,
As the English boat approached the American sliip, a
young American officer, who spied afar off in the boat the
venerable visage of its stalwart passenger, stood at the ship's
gangway, waiting for the veteran's ascent to the deck.
" Ship ahoy, Philip, my lad, my brave lad, my own
lad ! " cried Scarborough, with a voice that could be heard
all over the bay ; after which the grandfatherly Hercules,
without consulting the proprieties ot naval etiquette,
clasped his arms about the young man and threatened to
toss him up in the air as in the olden time.
^* And Where's your father, . Philip ? " inquired Scaw,
his heart yearning toward his old friend.
*^He is in the cabin, sir. Come with me. We will
give him what the enemy has tried to do and failed a sur-
prise."
It was a surprise indeed and followed quickly by a com-
memoration of it ; for while Capt. Chantilly and his old
friend were exchanging greetings down stairs, Philip
whispered an order to a midshipman, who hurried with it
to the deck, and in a few moments the ship shook with
belching cannon.
"What's that?" asked Scarborough, startled by the
guns.
"That, sir," replied Philip, ^*is an American salute v
honor of an Englishman who never uttered an insult
268 ' TEMPEST-TOSSED.-
the American flag, and who in this respect is a grand old
example to some of his countrymen."
There was such a fine audacity in this American salute,
fired in a British port, that it touched the old instrument-
maker's pardonable pride, and set burning all his early
affection for his young prot6g6 of former days, grown up
now and acting a hero's part under his country's flag.
" Have you any news of the Coromandel ? " asked Philip,
who began at once to speak of the uppermost thought in
his mind.
" No, not a word ^not a whimper since the bottle from
Drosante," replied Scaw.
" Poor Vail !" sighed Oliver. "I still believe him to
be drifting about the sea. Philip is sure of it. My son
and I still keep alive our old faith in that charmed ship.'^
"Yes," said Philip, gravely. "The last thing a man
should ever give up is his hope ; and, like the Vicar of
Wakefield, no man has a greater knack at hoping than I."
" Philip, my lad," asked Scarborough, " do you really
think we shall ever see that hulk ? "
"See it !" exclaimed Philip. "Why, sir, I see it all
the time. It never is out of my mind's eye. At Savannah,
in the midst of the fight, I saw it come floating between
me and the enemy's guns to intercept their fire. I have
seen it at daybreak, lying like a black bar across the sun.
I have seen it at high noon, drifting athwart our bow, just
within a trumpet's call. I have seen it at sunset, floating
in the purple waters, burning again yet unconsumed. Go
where I will, stay where I may, that ship goes with me,
stays with me never departs from me. See it ? Why sir,
I continually see, not only the drifting Coromandel, but
all the moving figures of her wistful company, fair Barbara
in the midst of them, imploring deliverance."
Capt. Scarborough was struck with the deep-seated feel-
ing which Philip evinced in these remarks ; for the young
FACE TO PACE. 269
man's flushed face gave token of the fire that was burning
in his soul.
^^ What has become of Lane ?'' asked Oliver. "Does
that poltroon still make voyages to Cape Town ? "
" No, he never once showed his white-livered himmage -
. there after the news from Drosante. He is now in the
Confederate navy."
" Then," said Captl Chantilly, *^ I hope I may live to
give him a thrashing."
^^ And so Lane," observed Philip, musingly, " has gone
over to the Confederates ! "
This reminded Capt. Scarborough of Admiral Gilling-
ham's suggestion as to .catching a Confederate prize.
^^ Philip!" exclaimed Scarborough, leaping from his ^
chair with great eagerness, " I've got a chance for you !
yes, 'ere in my wesoot, demmit, a hopportunity to show
your mettle yes, sir fame, glory, promotion. Fve got a
Confederate prize for you 'ere somewhere in my waise-
bands, if I hever could find anything hafter I 've once put it
in my pocket. Yes, 'ere it is look at this card. Demmit,
that card will be your passport to promotion."
Philip scanned the mysterious memorandum that prom-
ised him such unexpected renown.
"What does this mean ?" he inquired.
The meaning was then made plain by Scarborough.
"A moment lost," said Philip, quoting Napoleon's max-
im, "is an opportunity for misfortune. Let us start to-
night. To-morrow may be too late."
Charts were examined ; plans discussed ; a programme
laid out ; secrecy enjoined ; and at nightfall, after Capt.
Scarborough had returned to the Tantalus, the American
gunboat Tamaqua got quietly under way and weiit to sea
under a soft starlight steering S. S. E.
Not till after she had started, did the captain explain tr
his officers and men the undertaking.
270 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
All were eager for it some for f ame^ others for adyent-
ure, others for prize-money. It is fortunate that a great
cause like one's country can appeal to so many varjring
emotions in one's countrymen ; otherwise a national gov-
ernment might not always be able^ out of the nettle danger^
to pluck the flower safety.
Toward morning, after haying steamed about seyenty
miles, and being in the close neighborhood of the Grena-
dines, the captain gaye orders to lie to and wait for dawn.
He and Philip went below for an hour's sleep, leaving
the deck in charge of Lieut. Anthony Cammeyer.
This was an ambitious young officer who, being some-
what older than Philip, and yet a grade lower in rank, bore
a grudge against the two Chantillys on the groundless sup-
position that they had interfered to prevent his promotion
after the affair at Sayannah.
But his two superior officers, having done him no injus-
tice, were wholly ignorant of his resentment.
Lieut. Cammeyer was a keen-eyed, reticent, selfish man,
coyetous of prize-money. He had once thrown away a
prize more precious than money. His earlier and lost
treasure was nothing less than the hand of Lucy Wil-
merding.
After plighting his troth to her years ago, on the suppo-
sition that she was to inherit her father's princely fortune,
he soon discovered that the eccentric old millionaire med-
itated a different disposition of his estate ; whereupon the
young man ruthlessly discarded the undowered woman,
and thereby threw away
"A pearl richer than all his tribe."
The truth is that Lawfence Wilmerding, early distrust-
ing Anthony Cammeyer's motive in making love to Lucy,
'4 rightly suspecting that the crafty suitor was wooing
FACE TO FACE. 271
not the daughter's heart but the father's wealth, resorted
to a shrewd stratagem for testing the young financier's in-
tegrity of soul.
' The stratagem was this :
^* Anthony/' said he, one day, " I have just been making
my will ; and as a large estate is inyolved, and as I prefer
that no mere business-friends should know my purpose, and
as you are to stand in a nearer relation to me than any
other man can hope to do, I wish you, and you alone, to
know the contents of my will and to witness my signa-
ture."
The rich man then showed to Cammeyer a copy of a
pretended will, bequeathing all his estate to the founding
of a National University of Science in America.
" Whg-t a dotard that Wilmerding is ! " exclaimed Cam-
meyer, an hour afterward. "Does he think I am fool
enough to marry a beggar, simply because she has a pretty
face ? I will do with this man's daughter exactly as he
has done with her himself I will cut her off." And from
that hour Cammeyer turned his back on the Wilmerdings
and sought
^* Fresh woods and pastures new."
Lieut. Cammeyer was a sphinx-like man, keeping his
thoughts, and especially his purposes, to himself. Often
as he had heard the Chantillys speak of Lucy Wilmerding,
of the Coromandel, and of the Vails, he never permitted
either of his superior officers to imagine that he had ever
known of the existence of Lucy except through their own
allusions, nor of the Coromandel except in the same way.
And yet Lucy had a hundred times, in her conversations
and letters, mentioned to Cammeyer the missing ship.
Moreover (just before her correspondence with her faith-
less lover came to an end), she had spoken of an important
i
372 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
fact whioh her father had made kpown to her confiden-
tially ; namely, that both the Pritchard estate and the
Yail property had each increased in value through railroad
improTementB, so as to make jointly a moderate bnt grow-
ing fortune for Dr. Vail's family, should the esiles live to
get on shore and enjoy it.
Diguified and taciturn, Lieut. Cammeyer had sailed
with tiie Ohantillya ever since the outbreak of the war,
yet had never made their intimate acquaintance. No
man did his official duty more intelligently than he.
Nevertheless, in social qualities, although there was some-
thing L'legant in hia manner, he was haughty and forbid-
ding, and had alwi^s been the most unpopular man on
the ship.
'Sir," said Cammeyer to Philip, rousing him in hie
room, -'did yon not ask to be informed of any change
in the b
"Well, sir, it is now at 29."
" How is the wind ?"
"Wc^t."
"Then I will speak at once to my father,"
Going into his father's room, Philip said to him,
- "There is a slight ehange in the weather ; the recon-
P noiteriug, I think, should be begun at once; by and by
WG may he blown off the coast."
" My son," was the reply, "summon all hands to quOT-
ters and let us be ready for emergencies."
In order to find the whereabouts of the larking priva-
teer, t!ie Tamaqna had gone southward of the uncharted
island, and, putting herself where the Oalabria had been,
turned northward, following the Calabria's course toward
the insignificant shore.
Suddenly the same sight that had been seen from the
Bril^isli ship was seen from the American.
i
FACE TO FACE. 273
*^ There can be no mistake about it/^ said Philip;
Scarborough's description is correct. Neither smoke-
fitack, nor bowsprit. She seems a castaway, badly dam-
aged."
"What makes the water go smooth there?'' asked his
father. " There should be breakers, or a rolling sea ; and
yet the water-sheet is as still as a pond."
*^ I detect," replied Philip, looking through his glass,
*' a low sand-bar something, I judge, like the coral for-
mations in the Pacific. The vessel is lying in a basin that
seems walled round by one of nature's breakwaters. She's
as quiet as a dove in a dove-cote."
"Heave the lead," said Capt. Chantilly.
" Thirty-four fathoms," was the response.
"Again."
"Thirty."
" Once more."
"Twenty."
" Once again."
" Seventeen."
" Quick, again."
"Eleven."
All this shoaling took place in a few minutes, showing
that the Tamaqua had suddenly come from deep water to
a submerged bank which was rapidly running up to the
surface.
" Philip," said his father, " stop the engines ^heave to
^-pick a boat's crew take Cammeyer with you row
ashore ^look out for torpedoes feel your way like a wea-
sel ^and make a careful reconnoisance. But remember
that you are in neutral waters. Commit no hostile act."
The morning was delightful, and as the boat's crew
sprang to their oars, the rowers enjoyed their task.
" This is a delicious climate," said Philip, little thi?
ing that Miss Barbara Vail, of the Coromandel, had v
274 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
those self-same words to characterize the self same thing,
and not far from the self -same spot.
There was now a strange energy in Philip. He rose
and stood erect, glass in hand, as if gazing into nnknown
but sure glory.
A miniature compass hung on his watch-chain, shut in
a locket. "While holding his spy-glass to his eyes with his
right hand, he used the fingers of his left to fumble open
this locket for a glance at the needle. Looking down, he
discovered that by mistake he had opened the wrong
trinket ; for his eyes fell, not on the magnetic toy, but on
a still more magnetic attraction. This was the little pict-
ure of Mary Pritchard's face : a face that he imagined
to resemble another face of which he had seen no picture
saye in his mind's eye : the face of a sweet maiden on a
wrecked ship, pleading for rescue : the face, the form,
the ever-present image of the undiscovered mermaid Bar-
bara Vail.
The accidental opening of this locket led Philip to say
to himself,
" Yes, once again. It is always so. Wherever I sail,
the Coromandel seems to be lying across my course.
Whichever way I look, I see Barbara shining on me like a
guiding star. Does she not lead me whithersoever I go ?
Is she on earth or in heaven ? elect lady, dear heavenly
spirit thrice heavenly if on earth bend low to me
to-day 1 speak to my inmost soul once more. Other men
have had emblems and omens be thy name my talisman.
By this sign, I conquer ! Barbara, thou art my vic-
tory I "
Philip's extravagant fancies must be pardoned to a
young idealist in the imaginative years of life.
" Cammeyer," said he, suddenly changing the key of
his meditations, "keep an eye against the devil-fish!"
""'^uding to possible torpedoes at the entrance to the bay.
PACE TO FACE. 275
Philip had the wise and natural apprehensiyeness that
belongs to true courage.
He motioned with his hands to the oarsmen to soften
their stroke. " I can see no sentinel on deck/' he said,
'* and yet if there is one on duty, he must be able to see
my boat plainly enough."
Bowing then some distance up into the still water, he
noted through his glass, in swift detail, the most striking
features of the old ship, saying to himself as he passed
them in reyiew,
''It is a rusty craft ; dismantled ; mouldy ; green with
sea-weed along the water's edge ; chain-cable festooned
with fungus ; bows flanked with barnacles ; no side-wheel ;
no, nor any wheel at all ; that's no steamer ; no, nothing
but an old wreck. The game is up. Masts ? Nothing
but a remnant of an old jury-mast. That old craft is as
hoary as Neptune's beard. I have had a wild-goose chase.'*
Philip was disappointed. His sudden vision of glorious
achievement vanished. His spirits sank.
''I will take another look," said he. ''She is a puzzle
a curiosity. What can she be ? A Chinese junk ? a
floating-bethel ? a county-jail ? ^I never saw longer sea-
grass growing even from a rock."
Closer inspection through the glass revealed to him,
under the rust and mould, traces of a charred and black
surface as from fire.
"That ship," he argued, "has been burned. But she
did not bum here ^this is no port. She must have taken
refuge here after the disaster. She was probably towed
to this safe roadstead that her cargo might be hoisted
out."
Philip began to grow indignant at the rusty and tranquil
hulk, because it was not a Confederate prize. It was no
prize of any kind. It could have been of no value to
owners themselves, thought he, or they would not har
276 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
lowed a rescued yessel to go to ruin at leisure in a place of
safety.
"No," said he, muttering to himself, "this ship was
never in the Confederate service ; she is older than the
war ; she looks as old as the Ark."
Gazing again with his glass, while his men rested on
their oars, he said,
" She is in English waters, hut is of American build. '^
Cammeyer suggested that the mouldy and silky-whiskered
hulk might be the Flying Dutchman, laid up at last in
port, too moss-grown to continue her voyage.
"Pull away, boys," ordered Philip, pointing up the
glassy cove toward the strange craft.
The dipping oars threw up sea-grass on their glittering
blades ; multitudes of little fishes leaped out in fright ;
crabs sidled up leisurely to the surface and back again ;
chattering snipe ran with nimble legs along the water^s
edge ; rank vines overhung the verge of the basin, doubling
their greenness downward in its depth ; and as soon as the
land-locked boat shut out the sea, a sylvan and lake-like
landscape, rich with cocoa-palms, presented itself to Philip's
eyes.
"Eow slowly round the old ship," said Philip, who now
became quite enchanted with the scene, notwithstanding
his disappointment in the expedition.
The boat's course was along the larboard side to the Btem.
" Hold," cried Philip, " I want to see her name ; perhaps
it is still visible on her stem : no, it is not here ; it has
been burnt off ; perhaps it remains on the figure-head ; so
boys, pull slowly along the starboard side up to the bow."
In went the oars again, making the little fishes jump
away from these splashing invaders in their calm retreat.
"0 God ! " cried Philip Ohantilly, smiting his forehead,
'^ is it so ? "
- The oarsmen, whose faces were toward Philip, and who
FACE TO FACE. 277
did not see the magic word on the ship's bow, wondered
what had happened to their sober-minded young leader.
" Are you struck ? '^ asked Cammeyer, who saw the whole
case at a glance, yet who hid his surprise.
' "Yes," replied Philip, " I am thunderstruck ;" and he
leveled his forefinger at the figure-head.
The men all turned and saw the name Coromandel.
Philip took off his cap passed his handkerchief across
his brow as if to collect his thoughts ^put his cap on again
thrust his handkerchief into his pocket fumbled at his
watch-chain doing all these things unconsciously until,
haying recovered his self-possession, he turned to his men,
and with a preternatural solemnity of speech, addressed
them as follows :
" My lads, for years past my father and I have searched
for a missing ship, burnt at sea. She did not go down,
but drifted in the South Atlantic with a little company of
human beings on board, kept alive on a cargo of provisions.
Once, aiid once only, we heard from this wreck and that
was years ago. We have since repeatedly written to all the
maritime governments of Europe and America to mer-
chantmen to whalers to custom-house officers ^to con-
suls ^to mission-stations to every likely spot round the
whole Atlantic coast to get further tidings of the wrecked
ship. All, all in vain. But I have always believed that she
would be found somewhere somehow sometime ! And
here she is at last 1"
The men burst forth with a loud and ringing cheer, in
which Lieut. Cammeyer joined with exterior compliance,
but without hearty participation.
*'My father," continued Philip, "will weep for joy at
this sight. He must come here at once. Cammeyer I set
me ashore oa this island, and then go to the Tamaqua and
report this discovery to the captain. Tell him that the
Coromandel is rotting here in this cove, waiting for his ev
278 TEMPESl-IOSSBD.
to behold her bleaching bones. Boys I row as if yon voald
break the blades I Let the boat go like an antelope^ and
come like a deer ! "
Saying which, Philip stepped ashore, and at the next
moment sixteen oar-blades went fiaehing dovn the cove
and out to sea.
Tjieii t. Chantilly stood for a few moments waving his cap,
not Lii'ri.'ly m a courtesy toward his men, but as an uncon-
scious bndily motion to give^ome freedom and relief to his
beating lieart.
Never in his life had his pulse throbbed as now,
" And this," he exclaimed, speaking no longer with
measured moderation, but with hot eagerness, " this is the
CoromaTidel ! this the Holy Grael of my father's search
and mine I nothing but this old piece of mildew and
mould ! And where is the ship's company ? Whither
Lave they fled from this ruin ? Where is the unknown maid
who wus bom in that black hulk ? That was her cradle,
then ? JSa/wasthe dingy mansion in which she dwelt I
TJial was the prison-house and black barrier that has kept
her so li.mg from the world and from me ! Burn ! rot I
sink ! dismal dungeon that has divided my soul from
its mate ! Have I, after long search, found the shell,
only to be denied the pearl ?"
Strange to say, Philip had not yet thought of finding
Eodncy Vail or his family on the island ; for the young
day-dreamer had always looked upon these personagea as
having an ideal rather than an actual existence, and espe-
cially aa never being in the same place where he was him-
self, but always a thousand miles oft ; and so he now in-
fitinctivoly removed them in his mind to the same familiar
distauec.
" But I shall get some tidings, some traces of them here,"
he tliciugbt. "I shall find how they got away from the
ship ; who took them ofi ; where they went ; whether any
FACE TO FACE. 279
of them are dead ; and Barbara ^yes, I shall Imow whether
to seek for her any longer on earth, or hereafter only to
aspire to her in heaven 1 "
Climbing then a rocky bank overhung with viAes and
shaded by cocoa-palms, he sat down on a great stone where-
on he saw chiseled the figure of a cross, and under it in
rude letters the words Ave Maria.
*' A Catholic country," he observed, "and yet an Eng-
lish island."
About to proceed to a still higher eminence, that prom-
ised to show him at a glance the whole topography of the
place, he suddenly heard amid the songs of the birds a
woman's voice in the near distance, singing ; but he could
not see the singer.
" Hark I" quoth he, shutting the gates of all his other
senses and opening only his entranced ears.
It was an air of Mozart's set to English words, begin-
ning,
" Ton who know wliat love is,
Tell me, Do I love ? "
The melody went through him like some remembered
thought or dream. His pulses stood still. The air was
charmed. The listener stood filled with awe.
"It is dream-land I " he whispered, not daring to speak
aloud lest he should break the spell.
On second thought, he stepped quickly through the
bushes, and caught sight of a young maiden rosier than
Aurora ; ^her blue eyes full of the love that filled her song ;
her golden hair coiled in a loose band about her beautiful
head ; her face shaded by a wide-brimmed straw hat ; her
figure draped in a blue dress, loose and flowing like a
morning-robe ; and her whole presence showing something
of the vitality which gave to the nymphs and graces of the
elder world ^none fairer than she ^their immortal yor-"
280 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
This mortal maiden beheld at the aame time a real
appai'iliuu, a young man clad in navy blue, with gold
straps oil his shoulders and a gold band round, hia cap.
Thori; 1^ on orerfulnese of aetonishment that shows itself
in simpif blankness on the face : expresBion loses its power
and dies in the effort.
The lumJen whom Philip thus suddenly enconntered,
and who liad at the first moment seemed so full of warm
life anil motion, seemed to pass immediately afterward
into petrifaction before him, as if the story of Pygmalion
were reveraed and a living goddess had been changed into
sculpturuil stone.
" Wbo ia she ?" thought Philip, putting the question
in sacred silence to his inmost eoul.
As wiii'n a fawn is startled, bnt is too young to take
fright ur Oight, and stands in innocent and glad surprise,
looking at the hunter, so this maid then stood and gazed
on this m;m.
"Who can he be?" thought she. "He is of my father's
race. P.iit why is his beard so black? my father's is
gray; ami why are his eyes so dark? my father's are light.
This niii,-t be a much younger man than my father. But
this Tiijiii too is proud-looking and noble ^he is just like my
father, only more graceful, being young ; yes, he is taller
too ; no, he is not better in any way. Iliat could not
be for my mother has always said that my father was the ,
best of men. What a strange dress and cap ! my father
never had any such. How much gold there ia on this
young ni;in 1 He must be very rich. He is a soldier ^he
ia lilif tlie pictures of the generals; but where is his
sword ? Ilia banner ? hia war-horae ? He looks like some.
prince^ltnt where is hia crown ? 0, 1 have seen this very
face, or ouo like it, in my dreams. Whenever I think of
Philip, I think of some such countenance, only this is
more uoble than I could ever paint it myself. I wonder if
FACE TO FACE. 281
this young traveler has ever met Philip ? Ah, though I may
never see Philip in this world, yet to hear of him from
some one who has actually seen his face ^who has taken
his hand ^who has spoken to him who has walked with
him who knows him who loves him this would be
happiness indeed ! "
All these thoughts passed swiftly through the maiden's
mind ; and while thus pondering she stood without mov-
ing. The fawn did not flee, but looked the hunter straight
in the face.
Philip, coming to his senses, and bethinking himself of
his gentlemanly duty to the fair shepherdess, straightway
lifted his cap ; and as he bowed his uncovered head, he
seemed as if about to say,
''Mademoiselle, I am a wandering pilgrim, strolling
without permission through your grounds ; and if I have
committed an offence by my intrusion, I humbly crave
your gracious pardon.''
This is what Philip seemed to say by his manner, but
what he actually said by his words was merely,
" Good morning."
To which, with sudden return to life, the speaking
statue made answer in the same words,
'^Good morning."
The lady, noticing the example of Philip's doffed cap,
excitedly took off her straw hat an action which she sup-
posed good usage required of her, since this well-bred
gentleman had uncovered his head. In her haste, she
pulled down her hair so that it fell in a loose torrent,
streaming about her shoulders and reaching nearly to the
ground.
Abashed and mute at the spectacle, Philip looked with
dazzled eyes at the beautiful nymph.
" Perhaps," thought he, " this is the daughter of the
governor of the island."
S83 TBUFEST-TOSSSD.
It did not oocnr to the wise and sedate fool that as the
island was not laid down on the chart, it probably had not
yet attained to the dignity of a governor.
" Evidently she is some lady of rank," argued Philip to
himself,
II Philip's fancy had not been so completely bewildered
by the blushing sylph, his sober common sense wonld have
led liini straight to the whole truth at once ; bnt now, in
broad daylight, he had enveloped himself with mist and
moonshina ; and he went on stambling through the de-
ligiitful darkness of his self-clouded thought.
" Can you tell me," he asked, " something about the old
ship thiit lies anchored yonder ? "
"The Tessel's name," she replied, "is the Coromaudel."
" Yes, I know her name ; I want to know her story
her career, her " and he hesitated here.
" Her what ? " asked Barbara, putting an unnecessary
qnestion, in order to gain time for making an answer.
"I wish to know of her rescue after so long drifting .
about tho sea," responded Philip.
Although Barbara's breast waa a tumult of emotions,
and although she seldom put any restraint on'these, yet '
she waii now conscions of a new instinct awaking within
her : !i desire to control these feelings so as not to betray :
them to a stranger. _ 1
Gating for the first time in her life on a young man, i
her woman's wit whispered to her that she must not con- ]
fess hpraelf a wild woman of the woods or isles, but must '.
meet this gallant guest with a virginal and shy welcome. i
Prompted by the native diplomacy of womankind, she 1
managed to become at once the questioner rather than the ]
questioned, '
" Wiiere are your companions ? " she asked. \
" I urn alone," he replied ; " I came with my boat's 1
crew, who landed me here and then went back to the ship, " I
FACE TO FACE* 283
Barbara had read in story-books the frequent epithets
*^ good sir/' *'fair sir/' and the like ; and she now resolved
to put this elegant knowledge to a polite use.
"Good sir," said she, " I want to ask you," ^and she
hesitated how to proceed.
Just at that moment a powerful suspicion flashed like a
flame through the heated fancy of Philip Chantilly, and
he stood martyred at the stake between enkindled hopes
and fears burning alive with a consuming doubt as to
whether the exquisite creature before him was qr was not
the heroine of the Ooromandel.
There are some problems so full of delirious pleasure to
the mind that rather than solve them at once by running
the risk of disenchantment, the doubter prefers to linger
awhile in doubt. Philip, who had stood without flinching
before the cannon's mouth, now trembled like a coward, and
dared not ask the young woman her name, lest the answer
should suddenly frustrate his hope, and the fair stranger
should prove to be some other than Barbara herself.
"I have a friend, kind sir," she said, stammering, **a
dear friend living in the outside world ^and and per-
haps you know him. "
This was a crushing question to Philip ; for how could
a young maid, who had been cabined for a lifetime in a
lonely ship on the sea, ask after a friend, a dear friend, in
the outside world-r-a man too, since Barbara had used the
pronoun " him " ?
*' When have you seen your friend ? and where ? ^and
who is he ? "
"0," she replied, with some confusion, "I I never
saw him in my life ^nor do I know where he is."
*^ But you know ivho he is ? "
** Yes, fair sir ; at least my mother knows who he is."
The wave of hop^ rushed back again and filled all the
depths of Philip's heart, mind, and soul.
284 TEMPEST-TOSSED,
He thought of a little stratagem.
Detaching the locket from his chain, and opening it, he
inquired,
^^ Has anybody on this island lost this trinket ? It seems
to be a locket with a portrait in it. Perhaps the picture
would be prized by the owner." ^
"My mother, it is my dear mother's face when she
was young 1 " exclaimed Barbara, on opening it.
This was enough for Philip, who bowed his reverential
head as to a shrine of devotion, and stepping back for fear
of intruding too closely upon the angelic presence, was
about to speak at a worshipful distance, when suddenly
Barbara burst forth with the question,
" Did you ever live at Cape at Cape ? " and she
hesitated to say the next word.
"At Cape Cod ? " he interposed.
"No, I meant at Cape Town."
Barbara now exhibited irrepressible emotion. It flashed
in her eyes. It dilated in her nostrils. It bounded along
her pulse. It flamed in her cheeks. She clasped her
hands her eyes streaming with tears all self-restraint
abandoned and exclaimed passionately,
" tell me who you are ! Tell me if your name is ?
Tell me if you are he indeed ! "
Philip gave one long look into her eyes, and spoke the
word
" Barbara ! "
Whereupon the wonder-stricken maid catching her
breath her color going and coming her breast heaving
her tears falling at last opened her speechless lips far
enough to emit softly in response the one sufficient word
"Philip!"
Overpowered then with her tumultuous feeling, she
sank to the ground as if all heaven had suddenly fallen
upon her with an unendurable weight of joy.
CHAPTEK XX.
HEART TO HEART.
^*nr DECLAE^" said Jezebel to her mistress, ^^Massa
-L Vail, he's gone to hunt for de strange ship ; and
de dear lam', she's gone to hunt for de massa. Dem two
folks is like de mornin'-glories on de ole Pritchard porch
always out de fust ting in de momin'. Now I was a
calc'latin' on havin' de dear lam' go wid me to pick pine-
apples. But no off she strays, gaddin' after de wain
hopes ob dis world. Why does de precious lam' sigh
and pine for to go into de wicked world ? De world ?
Fudge ! De world is for de worldlings. We ain't dot
kind. What's de good book say ?
" * When I can read viy title clear
To mansions in de sky.'
Dafs de place for our hearts to lib in. ^ We hab a house
not made wid han's eternal in de hebbens.' "
Aunt Bel ^who, when she lived in the world, had never
derived from it such peace of mind as she had enjoyed
in her long sequestration from it was perfectly willing
that the green remainder of her age should fade away in
the same sunny isle where it was now turning into the
withered leaf. She shrank from being plucked up and
transplanted back into that rougher clime in which she
had suffered all she ev^r knew of the frosts of life.
286
286 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
AboTe all, she contemplated with alarm, and almost with
rage, the possible irruption into the island of a boat's crew
of rude and boisterous men. If Beaver had looked for-
ward to a yisit from the common crowd of spaniels, whelps,
and mangy curs that constitute the world's race of dogs, he
would have prepared himself to greet them with a growl
of disdain, or a wheeze of high-bred scorn. In like man-
ner, Jezebel stood ready at a moment's notice to snifE
haughtily at the whole intrusive pack of the human race.
Barbara, on the contrary, who had just met one of the
world's inhabitants, had found thereby a happiness so great,
so sacred, and so absorbing, that she was overcome with
rapture. She who for years had longed for the world
and its attractions, now suddenly discovered all these
summed up and embodied before her eyes in one beloved
image.
Accordingly, the welcome which Barbara gave to the
world and to the chief citizen in it was like what she
would have given to heaven itself, had its chief arch-angel
come down accredited to her on earth.
While, therefore, Jezebel was denouncing the world,
Barbara was blessing it.
Philip and Barbara remained sitting beside each other
on the grass.
These two strangers had become in a moment as well ac-
quainted as if they had dwelt together from childhood.
Nevertheless they were still wholly ignorant that each had
always been to the other an ideal character. They did not
yet suspect that each had for years been the other's supe-
rior self. They were still unconscious that during all their
sundered lives, they had nevertheless been, in a certain
sense, indissoluble comrades. Their eyes were hid den from
the strange fact that, though they had never seen each
other, yet they had never been out of one another's sight.
They were not prepared to find that their having met at last
HBAET TO HEAET. 287
was simply to demonstrate that they bad never been parted
at all.
They now sat in a sort of ethereal bewilderment, unable
to make a solid reality of the scene. . They were in a " house
of clouds." They had sought each other from such far
distances, and, at such great heights, that now at last, in
meeting, they met like heayen-trayersing birds ^in the
upper air ; not like human wanderers on the lower earth.
Moreover, since neither knew that the other's soul had
been making this search for its far-off counterpart, their
mutual ignorance now led them to restrain toward each
other, thus far, the natural expression of those mutual
emotions which otherwise would have found utterance in
that other language of the lips which is richer than speech.
" Barbara," exclaimed Philip, " have I indeed found you
at last?"
Philip still seemed a skeptic, and could hardly credit the
reality of his discovery of the actual and veritable Barbara
Vail.
"Pound me?" said she, repeating his word interroga-
tively.
Her face wore an expression of incredulity ; for the idea
that she had been "found " seemed to imply that she had
been " searched for " ; which she did not dream to have
been possible. But at the next moment, a more plausible
interpretation of Philijfs question flashed through her
mind.
" 0, yes," said she, " I now understand your meaning ;
I have beien lost and found. At first I thought you meant
that I had been sought and found. But of course that
could not be."
"Ah, Barbara," replied Philip, ^^you were lost, and
therefore searched for you were searched for, and there-
fore found. ' The lost shall be found. ' ^ He that seeketh,
findeth.' You were lost, and sought, and found."
-r^JCut
288 TEMPEST-TOSSED. .
*^ But," said she, with an arch and bewitching smile,
"you did not seek me; you sought the ship ^you sought
my father and mother ^you could not haye sought me 1 '^
"Yes, I sought youJ*^
^'But, Philip, that is not possible, for you did not
even know that I was born ! "
" Yes, Barbara, I knew of your birth. My search was
for you ; it was more than for the ship ^more than for
your father and mother more than for all the world be-
side ; it was for yourself."
" how strange ! " exclaimed Barbara, turning her puz-
zled thoughts intently upon the enigma, in a vain endeav-
or to solve it.
" Barbara, I knew of you through a little message cast
up by the sea. It was in a square glass jar, which was paint-
ed with two scarlet stripes. It gave me the names of the
ship's company, and said that you were three years old."
" 0," she responded, drawing a breath of relief, "that
must have been one of my father's records. That was
concerning the ship, was it not ? Of course I cannot re-
member that one," she added, laughing "it was so very,
very long ago. Philip, I was afraid you had picked up
one of mine."
" One of your what ? "
"I mean one of the letters that / sent."
" Did you send letters ? ^*
" Yes."
"How?"
" I sent them in the smallest fruit-jars. Whenever one
Was empty, and my father could spare it, I used to put a
letter into it, to go by the ocean mail," she added, in her
laughing way.
" You sent letters ? pray, to whom ? "
"To my friends."
" Your friends ? who are they ? "
HEABT TO HEART. 289
*^ One is Miss Wilmerding.'*
'^ And who are the others ?"
. *^ I have only one other/'
'^ And who is she f "
''She? it is not s^.'*
" Well then, who is he f "
^^ Why, Philip ! why do you look at me so fiercely ? *'
"Barbara," said Philip, "you sent letters to two friends
one a woman, the other a man. The woman was Miss
Wilmerding who was the man ? "
"The man ?" inquired Barbara, who was at a loss to
understand a kind of resentful look on Philip's counte-
nance.
' "Yes, his name," asked Philip, in a disturbed manner.
'^ One of your friends was Miss Wilmerding, and the other
was Mr. who ? "
" Mr. Ohantilly," she replied innocently.
" 0, yes," exclaimefd Philip, profoundly comforted. '^ I
did not think at the moment who it could have been. You
mean my father.";
"No," retorted Barbara, with charming archness, "I
never sent any letters to your father."
"What 1 do you mean that you sent them to mef"
"Yes."
"In heaven's name, Barbara," he cried, "what knowl-
edge had you of me 9 "
^Why, Philip, I have known you all my life. My
mother made me acquainted with you years and years
ago. You were then called Prince. You had a tame
squirrel named Juju. What has become of him ? "
"That squirrel " replied Philip, "lived to a good old
age, and, after he died, was buried in my mother's garden,"
" Are you called Prince now ? "
" Only by my father."
" By no one else ? "
290 TEKPEST-TOSSED.
" No."
" yes, Philip, by one other person.''
'' By whom ? "'
" By me I very often call you Prince ; for the name is
nobje, and makes me feel proud when I speak it."
Philip leaped to his feet, and looked at her with amaze-
ment.
"And so, Barbara, you have thought of met'^
"Yes."
" And written to met"
"Yes."
This was an unexpected revelation to Philip, and shook,
him to the centre of his soul.
" Barbara, do you mean that you wrote me actual letters ?
^letters in English words ? ^letters with pen and ink ? "
" Yes, Philip, for I could not write them in any other
words but EngliiJh except in a little bad French."
"And you cast those letters adrift on the ocean ?"
"Yes."
" Directed to me ? "
"Yes."
"At what place?" *
" At no place just to you alone without any place
just to you in the wide world."
" How often did you send those letters ? "
" Oh 1 very often."
" Often ? what is often ? "
"Dear Philip, a hundred times."
And during how long a period ? "
Why, for years ^f or weary years ever since I could
write. how I used to yearn and pray to see your face !
But I could not. So I tried to content myself with send-
ing you messages and letters. But I never expected you
to get them no, and above all, I never expected to see you
^--Hh."
HEABT TO EEABT. 291
Philip -was transfixed at the strange uniaon of souls
which he thus discovered to have existed between Barbara
aad himself. This bond Tronld not have been so surpris-
ing had the twain ever known, or met, or seen each other;
or had they been conscious that they were known to each
other. But such a nnion was peculiarly mystical and
weird in having created itself by virtue of its own inher-
ent spiritual vitality, without the intervention of personal
acquaintanceship, or of social circumstance.
Philip, looking down at the mSid, who was sitting at hie
feet, esclaimed,
" And you have scattered my name up and down the
sea F"
" Yes," said she, bashfully, as if caught in taking too
great a liberty,
" Then, let the brittle ships," said he, "never sink
let them never be stranded let them float forever ! Noth-
ing can honor me henceforth. I have all there is of honor
now. Dear Barbara, listen. I too have writttu your
name ; I have written it in the sky where it shines down
on mine ; yes, yours is the name by which I name heaven
itself." * .
With great bewilderment on her face, Barbara ex-
claimed,
" What wild words are you saying P "
"Not wild but true," he replied, quietly spe;il;ing as
from the depths. "After the joyful meesage reached my
father and me that the Coromandel had not gone down,
but was still afloat, and her paesengers alive, ever since
that day, the ill-fated, good-fated ship has gouo drifting
like a phantom throngh my dreams ; and I have seen on
her lonely deck a beauteous figure with hair si reaming
in the wind with tears dropping from her eyes :mtlw"
white arms outstretched for lielp. Thatimperii]etl maJ
I vainly, year after year, sought to rescue. But diirin
292 TEMPEST-TOSSED. ,
that time, %he kept constantly rescuing me. Yes, Bar-
bai'a, you have been my guardian-angel from that day to
this. You have gone with me into battle and turned away
tho balls. You have watched witli me on lonely posts, and
been my soul's companion in still hours. You have exor-
cised many an evil spirit from my breast. You have in-
spired me to all the good ambitions of my life. You have
been my life itself.'^
As when a torrent is loosed from the hills in the spring-
time, and goes rushing down to some low meadow, covering
its verdure from sight, only to subside and leave the rich
grass fresher than before, so this rushing speech went over
Barbara's spirit, drowning her for a moment in its over-
whelming flood, only to exhibit her glowing countenance
revivified into an expression of perfect bliss.
" Philip, Philip ! " she at length said, " is it possible
that this is you ? yourself ? your own very self ? " and
she put her hand on his head as if to attest his real pres-
ence, half fearing to find the image a ghostly nothing a
phantom a dream.
"I think," said Philip, in his mystical way, "there
must be a chain made of invisible links, reacning round
the world from each soul to its far-off mate, to draw them
together. Heaven has ordained that the strong yearnings
of a soul for its other self shall prove stronger than all ob-
stacles that lie between stronger than adverse winds and
waves stronger than intervening time and space. You
and I have sought each other through distant seas and
lands. We were both thinking the same thoughts without
knowing it. We knew each other, not by the mind, but
by the heart. The hemispheres divided you and me, but
could not keep us apart. The ocean rolled between us,
and yet we drifted over it toward each other. God, who
made the human heart, respects its yearnings, for they are
^ ' T!is own pulse. So I have always felt that you and
HEART TO HEART. ^93
I would meet if not on earth, then in heaven ; but now,
Laving met here, earth and heaven are made one."
Barbara did not stop to inquire whether such mysticism
conld be true, but simply replied,
" Philip, I have Mt that /poor wanderer ! was
^ways to seek but never to find. It is you who have done
everything I nothing. I was not even expecting you I
was only desiring you. Uow dared I harbor thepresump-
tuons thought that yon were going about the ocean looking
for poor lost me! Dear Philip, if I had fancied that you
were peering over the waters, through the days and nights,
looking^oi me I must have gone mad at the long separa-
tion."
Philip looked at Barbara yet could not see her, for a mist
clouded his sight.
The greatest of all the oceans are the two drops of brine
that can suddenly flood a human creature's wistful eyes,
surging forward into them from the inward depths of the
Boul. Philip was now sweetly tempest-tosfied on these two
fathomless seas.
"Is it not strange," ask od Barbara, "that we should not
have recognized each other at first ? "
"No," replied Philip, after a pause. "It often fcippene
that people living side by side, life-long, in bodily contact,
never obtain a familiar glimpse of each other's sotilji. If
disembodied, they would not know each other's inner selves.
It is not more strange that other persons, who ate ih-awn
together especially by their souls, should not be quick to
recognize each other merely by the flesh."
" Philip," she repeated, " I have not been content to
know you by the spirit alone^I have wanted to see your
face."
If Barbara's mood seemed not wholly ethereal, but a
trifle of the earth earthy, it was because the world will- '"
fascinations was, to her, something like that far-off
294 TEUPEST-T0S8ED.
sium vhich Philip aeaociated with the idea, not of earth,
bat of heaven.
"0 Philip," she aeked, "what is the great world like,
in which yon have lived ? "
" I have lived," he replied, "not in it, but out of it."
"How?"
"Dear Barbara, ever since I thought of my life at all, I
have spent it partly in a ship, and partly in a grave."
"In what ship?"
" The Coromandel."
Barbara's blue eyes darkened with sodden drops.
" And in what grave P"
"My mother's."
"Yonr mother, then, is dead ?"
" Yes."
"This news," said Barbara, with great emotion, "will
break my mother's heart."
Whereat, in qnite an altered tone, she impetnonsly ex-
claimed,
" Philip, I have all this time forgotten my mother. Ton
have put her out of my mind. What an ongratefal child
I am I Come with me to my mother at once I "
At which, with an energy that eeemed a pretty frenzy,
Bhe cangbt bis hand, and led him hnrriedly toward the
honse.
A decrepit old dog crossed tbeir path, and barked at
Philip.
"Beaver, hush !" said Barbara, "I am ashamed of you.
This is Philip. He has come to rescue you, and yet you
bark at him. I am sure, Philip," said she, turning toward
him, "you will receive a less snarlieh greeting from all the
rest of our household. Beaver," she added, lifting her
finger in gentle admonition, " never bark at Phihp again,"
Barbara left Philip at the door-step, while she entered
the house to prepare her mother for bis visit.
HBAET TO HEART. 295
As the young man sat waiting on Fran9ois Garcelon's
antique and moss-fringed stone, he said to himself, looking
round at the blooming flowers that grew near by,
"This is the Fortunate Isle; this is the Enchanted
Land ; this is the Gate of Paradise/*
- Philip^s soul swam in
'* The light that never was on sea or land."
' Barbara had hitherto been so full of intense earnestness
and solemnity that in now approaching her mother she in-
stinctiyely glided into another mood of mind for relief ;
and so, as she inherited her father's playful temper, she
burst in upon Mrs. Vail with a laughing and excited face
as if about to play some childish prank.
"Mother," said she, going up to that invalid, who was
seated in her Chinese chair, "I want to show you some-
thing ^look at this," handing her the locket containing
the portrait.
"What! more trinkets?" inquired Mrs. Vail, "the
old ship has proved to be a jeweler's bazaar. Every lady
must have left her ornaments behind."
"Dear mother, before you open this locket," said Bar-
bara, "tell me exactly how Madame D'Arblay looked;
was she slender ? "
"No, quite plump."
" Had she dark hair ?"
"No, light."
" Side curls ? "
'^No, none at all."
" Then this cannot be Madame D'Arblay ; see if you
can tell who it is."
Mrs. Vail fingered the snap of the locket, and before
getting it open conjured up in her mind the- faces of all
the ladies who bad been her fellow-passengers at the time
*^_
296 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
of the disaster. At kst the locket flew open and disclosed
her own image. The discovery filled her with nnaccount-
able mystery, and therefore alarm.
" My dear daughter, where did you find this ? ''
** My dear mother, where did you lose it ?"
*^I never lost it."
" How then could I have found it ? " .
" Are you and your father playing another of your morry
games ? "
^^ My father has never seen this trinket. '*
*^ My darling Barbara, you seem to be trembling with
joy. What ias happened ? Has your father signaled the
strange ship and got news ? "
^*I have not seen my father since last night."
A shadow passed over her mother's face at the disap-
pointment of another hope.
'^Darling mother," exclaimed Barbara, laughing, "yon
are too dear a mouse not to be played with a little longer
by such a wild kitten as I."
" Barbara, my dear, where have you been ?"
" I have been far away yes, to a strange land, and
they call it the Cape of Good Hope," and she fell upon
her mother^s neck and smothered her with kisses ; in the
midst of which Philip, who had been bidden to tarry out-
side only until Barbara could show her mother the locket,
and who had heard the conversation through the door,
made bold to enter unbidden, and stood in Mrs. Vail's
presence, cap in hand, bowing.
" Sir," said Mrs. Vail, rising from her chair, while her
pale face grew flushed and radiant wifch feeling, "who you
are I know not nor from what quarter of the world you
have come nor what chance has led you hither. But you
are welcome, a thousand times welcome. Our friends have
so long been strangers to us that we hail a stranger as a
^'^''^nd. In this little house which is not our own, but
HEART TO HEART. 207
was found by us just as it has been found by you I beg
you, sir, to consider that you have the same rights as our-
Belves/'
" My dear mother/' excl/bimed Barbara, who could
hardly repress the almost childish glee that had taken
possession of her, ^* this kind gentleman has come to bring
us news from Philip and Juju/'
*^ Sir,'' asked Mrs. Vail, " have you seen that family ?
How recently ? And where ?"
" Madam, I saw Oliver Chantilly's family or what re-
mains of it this morning.'*
Mrs. Vail started with alarm.
^' I beg of you," she said, " explain yourself."
"My dear madam, the broken family that you have
named consists now only of my father and myself."
"You?'/ cried Mrs. Vail, scrutinizing him keenly.
"Are you' a Chantilly ? Then you must be Rosa's eldest
son. No, it cannot be ^he was but a child when I saw
him. Pray, sir, tell me of Rosa has she gone back to her
own country ?"
" Yes, madam ; she came from heaven, and has returned
to it."
"0, Rosa Chantilly," exclaimed Mary, "are you dead
and yet / live ? "
The news of Rosa's death fell upon Mary with a shock that
made lier forget at the moment that Rosa's son was present.
" You were my mother's friend," said Philip; "she is
in her grave ; permit her son to .salute you in his mother's
name."
Saying which, he reverently kissed her hand an homage
which ha had thus far omitted to show to Barbara's rounder
and fairer hand.
"And'*^you are Rosa's son ! Philip, then let r
welcome you as your mother herself would do if she w
alive."
298 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
Mrs, , Vail kissed Philip tenderly ^a proceeding that
Barbara watched with profound curiosity.
Hurried explanations followed, first as to the accidental
meeting of Philip and Barbarti, and then as to the expected
arrival of Captain Oliver Ohaiitilly on shore shortly.
"This visit, Philip," said Mrs. Vail, *^is niore than I
ever dared to expect. Heaven blesses us more abundantly
than we can ask or think. And so your dear mother is
gone, while I tarry yet ! Philip, my motherless boy,
you must let me be a mother to you," and she caressed
him fondly, as if unconsciously making up for Barbara's
lack of that affectionate demonstration. " But tell me,
how came you in possession of my portrait in this
locket ? "
"It was sent," said he, "by Lucy Wilmerding from
Europe to my mother, and did not arrive at Cai)e Town
till after her death. I have worn it ever since. The
})icture has led me like a loadstone to the original."
" Dear Lucy ! " said Mrs. Vail, " what a sweet girt she
was ! And where is she now ? Philip, do you know
her?"
"No, I never saw her."
"What!" interposed Barbara, "never saw Lucy Wil-
merding ? How strange ! "
Barbara thought that people who had the opportunity
of dwelling in the great world had no excuse for not mak-
ing each other's acquaintance, so that everybody should
know everybody else.
" Philip, have you a brother ?" asked Mrs. Vail.
"No."
"A sister?"
"No."
" Then Barbara must be your sister, as I your mother.
But, Philip, nothing can make up for a mother in her
grave I What a blow to your poor father ! "
!
HEART TO HEART. 299
" Yes, it turned his hair white in a single night ; when
he comes you will see his locks of snow."
" Did Barbara tell you how long we drifted at sea ? '*
''Yes."
" And how at last we landed here ?"
''Yes."
" And how my husband always felt sure that your father
would never rest till he had found and rescued us ? "
" Yes, she has told me all."
" Philip, is it not a strange tale ? "
"It makes me think," said he, "of Prosper and
Miranda."
Dr. Vail, who meanwhile was hastening homeward from
his observations, paesed by Jezebel gathering fruits, but
did not see her.
" 0, Massa Vail I " cried Bel, trying to attract the hur-
ried man's attention, "I hab seen de comin' ob de king-
dom. Pete, he hab come. I seed him a walkin' over
dese yer fields. He ain't black no more he's white. He
was dressed in blue like de sky, and was covered all over wid
gilt spots like de stars. Yes, my boy Pete, he's now white
as de whitest fair as de fairest. A little while ago he
went a walkin' along dese yer bushes. He nebber stopped
or turned round nebber saw his mudder nebber said a
word to nobody ^but went right tru dem dar trees, and
was gone. Massa Vail, somefin' good is agwine to happen.
What's de good book say ? ^ Lift up your heads for de
day ob your redemption draweth nigh.' "
Dr. Vail, who had gone further and further out of
Jezebel's hearing, now leaped at a bound to the door-
step.
"Mary," he exclaimed, and his piercing voice went
ahead of him into the house, " I missed the little boat ;
her crew" pulled back again to the steamer ; but I . haikd
the steamer, and received an answer ; the boat is re
800 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
ing ; I have run hither to announce to you the news^ and
must go back immediately to the south beach."
Whereupon, without entering the house, he was about
to turn away from the threshold.
"Father, dear father," exclaimed Barbara, " step inside
just a moment before you go."
Dr. Vail then entered, and beheld the strange guest.
Philip, without speaking, bowed with courtliness.. The
spectacle seen, as it was, in the dim light of stained-glass
windows at first smote Eodney Vail as an illusion as
one of the many fancies or hallucinations that had giyen
him a momentary pleasure and an after-disappoint-
ment; for he had often built an air-castle with noth-
ing but a bubble for a foundation, and seen the whole
fabric dissolye to a single moist drop in each of his
eyes.
" 0, no," thought Eodney, glancing a second time at
the princely young figure, " it is no illusion it is he
just as I left him the years haye stamped no wrinkle on
his brow it is the friend of my youth ^it is he indeed
the same as of old."
This train of thought passed through Dr. Vail's mind
with the swiftness of a ray of light ^too swiftly for him to
be entirely conscious that he had stopped to think at all
for at the next instant his arms were flung round the
young man, and he exclaimed,
'^0 Oliver Chantilly, my friend! my friend ! I knew
you would search for us I knew you would find us I O
Oliver, my noble friend 1 Welcome to my house my
heart ^my soul."
Dr. Vail held Philip in the affectionate imprisonment of
an embrace meant for his father.
"I am not Oliver Chantilly," replied Philip, "lam
his son I "
" What 1 " exclaimed Dr. Vail. " His son ? Then
HEABT TO HEABT. 301
Philip, you are from head to foot the image of your
father."
'^It is an honor," replied Philip, ^Ho be so like my
father as to be mistaken for him by his best beloved
friend."
" Philip, is your father with you ? "
" He is not with me at this moment," replied Philip,
quietly.
'^ Where is he?''
*^ He is there r^ and Philip pointed down through the
yista in the trees to a boat just then approaching the
shore.
^' Is your father among those men ?"
"Yes."
Like an arrow from a bow, Eodney Vail fled away from
the house toward the boat.
Jezebel then entered, bringing a basket of fruit on her
arm, and not at first perceiving the stranger, exclaimed,
".Lamkin, what's got into Massa Vail ? He's a run-
nin' down de hill like de Prodigal son when de swine was
after him. His heels am kickin' up de dust, and his hat
has agwine sailin' off his head and cotched on a pine-
apple bush. Why ^lawks a-massy ! " (noticing Philip
in the. room and holding up both her hands) "Is it de
angel ob de Lord ? or is it my boy Pete ? Which ?
What's de good book say ? ^ Watch, for de kingdom ob
hebben is at han'.' "
" Philip," said Barbara, " this is dear old Bel, who has
taken care of me ever since I was bom."
Philip bowed in acknowledgment of that servant's
faithful service.
Jezebel would h^ve accepted Philip on the spot as a
veritable angel, if he had proclaimed himself such ; or she
would have taken him for Pete transfigured, if he had
given her his word for it ; yet it was difficult for her to
803 TEHPEST-TOSSED.
believe that he was neither the one nor the other, but
only a common man.
Bearer was the only ungrateful member of the party ;
he greatly dishonored himself by a number of uncompan-
ionable growls ; but dogs, like children, never behave at
their best in company.
Mury Vail, whom the great excitement had already
prostrated, reclined in her easy-chair, leaving Barbara and
Philip on the door-step, Bai'bara looking through the
spy-glass at the distant scene on the beach, and PliUip
looking at Barbara from a nearer point of view.
^^ Philip, is that old man in the boat your father?"
asked Barbara.
^^He is not old,'' replied Philip, "only white-haired."
Barbara, who still stood surveying the far-off spectacle
through the glass, remarked,
" Philip, your father has just jumped ashore. He and
my father are locked in each other's arms ^and all the
men are waving their hats and cheering. Hark ! Do you
not hear their voices ? "
It was a shout three times repeated, and the pleasant
noise came floating up through the autumnal air.
"0 the welcome sound of the voices of our fellow-
men ! " exclaimed Mary.
Barbara's interest was intense. Her eyes were riveted
upon the new-comers. The world was at her feet.
" They are drawing the boat's anchor up the beach,"
said she. " They are assembling in the shade of the trees.
Tliey are standing in a straight line."
She worked the glass up and down, and brought them
near or pushed them back at pleasure.
"What beautiful blue shirts and white caps ! " she ex-
claimed. " M^her, the sailors wear their collars folded
down, just like Madame D'Arblay's morning-dress."
^"-^ara's gaze went from face to face.
HEART "TO HEART. 303
"What a difference in their expression ! " she cried.
She had not dreamed that there could be such a variety.
They were old and young bearded and smooth comely
and uncouth. Some looked happy and radiant ; some
careworn and indifferent ; some stolid and sluggish.
This disappointed her, for she thought that the pririlege
which they enjoyed of living among human beings ought
to irradiate every countenance with gratitude.
" mother, the men have gathered in a circle about my
father, and he is shaking hands with them all each in
turn. He is taller than any of the rest except Philip's
father. Philip, who is that man in the blue coat ? "
"It is Lieut. Cammeyer.''
" What a noble man," said she, "how 'splendid ! I am
sure he must be brave and true."
Philip pricked up his ears at this panegyric. Is it pos-
sible that these words just a little piqued his Royal High-
ness ? He would not have acknowledged to himself the
soft impeachment. So it must be here acknowledged for
him by a more impartial judgment.
Barbara, watching Lieut. -Cammeyer, said,
"He is plucking a small white flower from a vine and
putting it into his button-hole. But I can give him more
beautiful flowers than that. He. shall have his choice of
all that grow on the island.'^
His Eoyal Highness, the Prince, pricked up his ears
again.
" I suppose," said he, "that after Lieut. Cammeyer has
made the first choice, I may have leave to make the
second."
Barbara caught his hand, pressed it, and looked into his
eyes with a glance that shot a sunbeam into his heart.
" Philip," said she, " you shall have more than you can
carry in your hands ^more than your arms can hold. You
may fill your boat with them."
N.
304 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
With fraiik and strong natures, love generally works its
magic boldly aftd without delay. But as yet, Philip and
Barbara had done no love-making ; at least, not in the
ordinary sense of that word. They had not even kissed
each other except as
" Palm to palm is holy palmer's kias."
They had not whispered to each other the word love.
Their thoughts had been too novel and mysterious to find
expression in love's common language. What is usually
meant by love is the. passion of two souls who sweetly
barter with each other for mutual possession of their
mortal tenement^, to have and to hold. But the souls of
Barbara and Philip were still flying too high in the clouds
and were too near their native spiritual realm to think as
yet of bringing their love to
" A local habitation and a name."
The first touch of ordinary love which Philip felt for
Barbara was the tingling jealousy pricked into him by the
little thorn on the rose which Lieut. Cammeyer plucked. ^
" What if she should fall in love with Cammeyer ! '^
thought he ; and the thought became a bitterness to him
in a moment.
Love at first sight is common ; but love before any sight
at all is rare.
This strange, high, ethereal love ^which had not hith-
erto thought of giving itself a name ^not even love's own
name ^was thus far, until this jealous moment, the lovo
that Philip had for Barbara.
But if Philip's love for Barbara had hitherto resided in
heaven with that angel, it was now preparing to come
down to tarry on earth with that woman.
The starting-points from which each npw approached
HEABT TO HBAET. 305
the other in plain ^ and simple love were not so widely-
sundered as might at first be supposed.
If a man moyes among a multitude of fair women with-
out bowing his heart in surrender to any one of them, be-
cause of his supreme allegiance to some other image afar
off, which was the case with Philip, ; and if a woman is
hidden from all men's sight, and sweetly enchained to a
perpetual thought of one man's face, which was the case
with Barbara ; ^it is not singular, after all, that the two
should meet on terms not greatly different ; and it was in-
evitable that each should fall in love with the other ; not
only in poetic fancy, but in living reality ; for their two
hearts were fresh, whole, and virgin : and in such natures
the instinct of love works like the lightnings of heaven
illumining the whole soul so that no nook or cranny of
its realm escapes the electrib gleam and heat.
The young sailor, who that morning would have made
any sacrifice to ambition, was now ready at noon to sacri-
fice ambition itself to love.
^^Oome, Barbara, show me your garden. I must have
my flower before Cammeyer comes ; and he must see that
I have a sweeter one than his." -
^^ Dear Philip, the whole island is my garden ; there are
flowers enough in it to crown all the conquerors in the
world, and to bestrew the paths of all maidens on their
wedding-march to church."
^^ If," said Philip, "you have lived all your life aloof
from the world; how can you know so much about its
wedded maids and other conquerors ? "
" I have read of them in romances."
" Do you know, then," he asked, *^ the story of Proser-
pine gathering flowers ?
*' * Herself a fairer flower ? '
Ton are Proserpine ^fairer than your flowers."
306 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
^* Any woman," said Barbara, ^'is fairer than a flower.
I don't know why that verse was written. Not any flower
of this island is so fair as my mother's face."
" Nor half so fair," he added, " as your own."
Barbara did not treat this tribute as a piece of flattery,
for she did not detect the gallantry that inspired it ; and
yet, at the same time, her desire for personal beauty was
working within her, for she asked Philip frankly,
'^ Have you seen many ladies ? "
'^Thousands."
^^ Am I like them?"
He smiled at her directness, and was about to make a
gay and gallant answer ; but his sincere heart smote him
into reverence for her simplicity, and he replied,
'^ Barbara, you are a beautiful woman, worthy to walk
in a king's palace."
With a sudden tear in each eye, Barbara replied,
" Then I am grateful to heaven for making me so. My
mother and father call me fair. But then, I have read
that parents are blind to their children's defects. If you
think me comely since you are disinterested I shall have
a true right to believe it."
Philip's heart was now glowing with a less celestial yet
with a more human love than he had hitherto felt for his
soul's idol.
Never once had Philip, during the years of his image-
worship, thought of Barbara as his wife ; for this bright
particular star and wandering spirit seemed to him to
dwell in a heaven where there was neither maiTying nor
giving in marriage.
But ever since Barbara had complimented Cammeyer,
Philip kept saying to himself,
"What if this cold-blooded man should win this woman
for his own ? No, this shall never be. Barbara is mine
"ie only mine against all the world."
HEART TO HEART. 307
The next step in love's argument was easily taken by
Philip's logical brain.
Barbara, to be his, must be what ?
"Why," said he to his listening and agitated heart,
" she must be my wife.''
Strange as it may seem, this thought was so perfectly
fresh and new to Philip that it gave to his blood a delight-
ful wildness, and sent it coursing through his veins with
an ecstatic joy.
"I will take the first step now and here," thought he,
recurring to his favorite Napoleonic maxim that a moment
lost is an opportunity for misfortune "I will tell her that
I love her. But I will not appeal to her sense of obliga-
tion toward her rescuer, nor presume upon her gratitude
for her restoration to the world. She shall have no other
reason to love than love itself."
Philip was full of the graciousness of high breeding,
and had the courtly manners of a princely mind.
"Barbara," said he, "this is the proudest day of my
life."
Philip chose a rather commonplace expression, but Bar-
bara had never heard it before.
"The proudest ?" she repeated, feeling in herself a
pride at hearing him say it ; " you who have travelled
through the world you who have been in great cities ^you
who have fought on battle-ships, Philip, how can you
pass all other days by and call this the proudest of all ? "
'* Barbara, let me speak my heart at once ; I am a sailor,
and that's a sailor's way. This is the day for which all
other days were made, for this day has brought me to the
Coromandel and to you. Ever since I first knew of your
existence, I have worshipped you with all my soul ; now
that I have seen your face, I love you with all my heart. "
" Love ? " inquired Barbara, with a palpitating incre-
dulity.
.
308 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
"Yes/' said Philip. "Love. Suffer me to use that
supreme word. I love you ! ''
" Philip 1 " she exQlaimed^ her eyes afire with light,
"yow love mef God, can this be possible ? Philip, is
it love ? no, it cannot be 1 no, no, no ! Have you come
out of the world to bring your heart to mef No ! Have
you seen thousands of ladies and yet have saved your love
for me f Philip, why do I tremble ? I am dizzy ^my
head reels 1"
She sank down en a mossy stone. Philip sat beside
her. A look beamed in his eyes which certified to every
word that he had said. Barbara saw ^felt knew that
Philip had spoken the solemn truth.
They were under a convolvulus vine ; Barbara trembled
like one of its leaves, and blushed like one of its jQowers.
A dash of hot blood mounted up to the roots of hei
hair. She was covered with crimson ^but not from shame
or confusion only from pride. She bowed her head be-
tween her hands as if to press her throbbing temples
together to keep them from bursting. The flush went
creeping round her white neck. Tears, which had no
drop of grief to embitter them, trickled down her cheeks.
All the love-tales that she had read and learned by heart
went singing through her mind like sweetly-remembered
tunes.
"0 Philip," she asked, "is love such a fierce fever?
Love is rest but this is tumult. Love is peace but this
is tempest."
Leaping then to her feet ^her hair hanging down be*
hind her back like' an angelic wing ready' to be lifted in
flight she exclaimed,
" Why have you disturbed shaken terrified me so ? "
She quivered from head to foot with unrestrained feel-
ing ; she kept nothing back : she cloaked nothing with a
polite disguise. Her manner was so wholly unconven-
HEART TO HEART. 309
tional so altogether natural as to appear to Philip to be
partly snpematural. It was as if Nature were returning
to the primitive ideal of beauty and truth.
Philip met frankness with frankness.
^^ Barbara," said he, with a half hush in his voice, and
holding out his hand, ^^ it is a sailor's hand. It has put
itself to rough uses ; ^it has steered ships ^it has fired
guns ^it has begrimed itself with the smoke of battle.
But it has also done gentle acts ; it has patted the cheeks
of children ^it has planted flowers on graves ^it has
stroked the tresses of my mother, alive and dead. Yes,
it has touched many things rough and soft trough duties
and soft delights ; ^but, Barbara, this rude hand of
mine holds the whole world now in its palm when it clasps
yours to-day."
This was all that Philip said, but he caught up Bar-
bara's hand and kissed it as if he would never let it go
from his lips.
Just then Lieut. Cammeyer, with a rose-bud in his
button-hole, came upon the scene, and, bowing politely to
both, remarked,
^^ I beg your pardon. Lieutenant, but I am sent to sum-
mon the lady and yourself to the house."
CHAPTER XXI.
INTERCHANGE.
THE summons to Philip and Barbara, which Gammeyer
conveyed, was to a repast that Jezebel had prepared
in honor of the distinguished guests. It was spread on a
rustic table under the trees in front of the Hermitage. An
embroidered table-cloth a reliv. of Fran9ois Garcelon's
household ^gave to the frugal entertainment a sump-
tuous air.
Mrs. Vail, fatigued by the morning's excitement, found
herself unable to preside as hostess, and resigned that
oflSce and its honors to Barbara, who accepted the trust
with blushing diffidence.
" It is the first time in my life," said the abashed maiden,
"that I have seen strange faces at our table. I wish my
mother could occupy her usual place, for she was bred to
the arts of hospitality, and has not forgotten (I am sure)
how to practice them toward such welcome guests."
Eodney Vail opened a bottle of the old hermit^s legacy,
and each quaffed the soft, pale, amber-like wine.
Capt. Chantilly held up his glass so that the light sb^ne
through it.
"This," said he, "is as pure and gentle as a woman."
"It is fit then," said Philip, "for pledging the health
of pure and gentle women. Here's to the daughter, to the
mother, and also" ^looking at Jezebel "to the grand-
mother : ^three generations of virtue and goodness."
810
IXTERCHAKGE. 311
*^ Let it be my part/' said Cammeyer, speaking in a
formal tone, ** since the ladies have been mentioned, to
add the health of the gentlemen present Dr. Vail and his
two friends, Capt. and Lient. Chantilly."
The three gentlemen, thus honored, bowed their ac-
knowledgments.
^* This must be the custom that I have so often read of,"
said Barbara, ^^ the giving of toasts at banquets. Do women
give any ? Must If "
^^ Yes," replied Capt. Chantilly, ^'we wait for yours."
Barbara, with natural dignity and fulness of feeling, said
simply,
^^Dear friends, I am not versed in this etiquette, but I
hope it is proper for me to say for, 0, I say it with my
whole heart may heaven's blessing sweetly reward our
deliverers, one and all ; " and she turned toward Philip
with a look that seemed to add, ^^ and Philij) Chantilly in
particular."
At this moment Beaver showed a disposition to partake
of the feast as one of the guests. For this purpose, he
stubbornly braved what he regarded as a severe expression
on the countenance of Jezebel. But the old woman's frown
existed only in the dog's imagination, for to human eyes
her face shone with smiles. She waited on the guests not
hke a servant but like a mother.
^^My boy Pete," said she, "he's a man grown. Pete
Bamley. Hab any of you ebber seed him ? He's one ob
de sailor men. He shoots de big guns. Dunno how dat
boy^hab ebber got along ain't had no mudder to look after
his shirts and tend to de buttons. But I specs de Lord
takes care o' Pete's clo's. De Lord, dat made man, knows
how to do his washin' and mendin'. What's de good book
say ? ^ When dy fader and mudder forsake dee, den de
Lord will take dee up.' Now Pete hab jitt got to pin de
Lord right down to His precious promise. Show m^
312 TEHPEST-TOSSED.
promiseand I will show you de blessin'. * Hab I promised
and shall I not perform ? ' sef de Lord. Bless de Lord.
His mercies am like dese yer dew-drops new ebery momin*
and fresh ebery ebenin'."
*' On my ship," said Capt. Chantilly, " is a young gunner
whose name is Pete but it is not Peter Bamley it is Peter
Collins."
"Dat's somebody else's Pete, not mine/' said Jezebel,
with a sigh of resignation as much as to say that her
motherly heart would like to beat against the breast of
her only son once again, but not unless it should be the
Lord's wiU.
Rodney Vail and his wife had previously made inquiries
concerning their aged parents, whom they could hardly
have expected to find alive, and who, indeed, true to this
sad expectation, had been laid at rest a number of years
before.
*^ Alas," thought Barbara, tenderly (and this thought stUl
lay like a shadow on her joy), *^I shall never see my grand-
parents only their graves."
The conversation wandering from family aflEairs then
touched on a hundred different subjects.
^^Tell me, Oliver," said Rodney, ^^what prompted you
to go back to the naval service ? "
" Because," he answered, *^ our country is at war."
*' What, have not the*Mexicans been conquered by this
time?"
As Dr. Vail had left his country while it was at war with
Mexico, he imagined that the same conflict was still in
progress. He was astounded when told of a civil war in
the United States.
^^ Who is at the head of the government ? " he asked.
*^ President Lincoln," replied Capt. Chantilly.
^^ Lincoln ? That name is new among the statesmen of
our country. Who commands the army ? "
rBTTEBCHAKGE. 313
"General Grant."
" Grant ? That name is new too. Who is chief in the
navy ?'^
^^ Admiral Farragut."
^' Farragut ? Still an other new name 1 Is the country,
then, given up to strangers ? Do I know nobody who is
left? What of Winfield Scott ? "
'' He is dead."
" Daniel Webster ? ''
'^Dead."
^^ Henry Clay?"
^^Dead."
"Ah, me," exclaimed Rodney, " Timers scythe has cut
a devastating swathe. Is everybody dead ? Who then is
married ? "
" Tom Thumb," ejaculated Philip.
Dat's de same ole way ob de world," remarked Jezebel
de great men dey is always a dyin^; and de little men
dey is always a marryin'. Dat's what makes it so hard for
de women. Now dar was Bruno. Did you know my man
Bruno ? He was a lazybones always a sleepin' in de sun.
Kow my boy, Pete, he was proud and hard workin', and
allers full ob fret and shame against Bruno. I allers
b'liebed dat de Lord took away ole Bi-uno on puppus dat
Pete might hole his own head up high in de world and
not hab eberybody a twittin^ him ^bout de ole man."
After Jezebel ended her eulogy of Pete, Rodney inquired
concerning the state of things in Europe.
"Europe," said Oliver, "has had a succession of bloody
wars. First Russia fought France and England that was
in the Crimea. Then France overthrew Austria ^that was
at Splferino. Then Prussia gave Austria a second whipp-
ing that was at Sadowa. JThen England had a war in
India and another in China. But our own civil war has
outreddened them all in human blood."
814 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
" Have there been, then, no arts of peace during all these
years ? ^^
'^ Yes, yon cannot guess what new telegraphic wire has
been laid? Try."
" Well, from Boston to Albany."
^' Ah, sir, irom America to Europe yes, it is a slender
cord under the sea, giving instantaneous communication
between New York and London."
Rodney VaiPs incredulity needed the honest look
of Oliver Chantilly to confirm so astounding a state-
ment.
" What new ideas are now exciting the world ?"
" Well, I'm not much of a scholar," said Oliver. ^^ Let
me see. Did the human race, when you were acquainted
with it, humbly trace its pedigree to the dust of the earth,
or did it proudly look higher to find its ancestor in a
grinning ape on a tree ? Then too, we used to ponder in
college on the great opinion of Socrates that the body is
one thing, the soul another the one mortal, the other
immortal. But our modem wise men proclaim the body
and soul one and the same, and argue that when the one
dies the other dies with it. Perhaps, if you had remained
among these philosophers you would have walked in their
ways. Who knows but that you owe to the wreck of your
ship the saving of your soul ?"
^^ Who," inquired Eodney, " are the rising scholars and
writers the poets, for instance ? "
"You must ask Philip," said Oliver ; " he is a dreamer ;
he reads and muses hour by hour ; he knows the poets.
But the old Laureate your early favorite is dead. He
died six or seven years ago."
" What, dear old Wordsworth ? " exclaimed Dr. VaiL
" I saw him once at Rydal Mount. Wise, pure, penetrat-
ing spirit ! He must have left the world better than he
found it."
INTERCHANGE. 316
*^ One of your Gterman professors has gone too."
'' Who ? "
** Carl Eitter, taking with him his art of geography to
map the undiscoyered country from ^hose bourne no
trayeler returns."
^' And Humboldt ? "
*^ He died still earlier."
*^ Is Europe," asked Eodney, *^ growing EepublTcan or
Cossack ? "
^^ The Cossack himself," replied Oliver, " is now the
best Eepubliean in it, for the Czar has set free the serfs,
and has been followed by the American President in set-
ting free the slaves."
" Barbara," exclaimed Eodney, ** how much of the
history of the world we have missed ! Oliver, what of the
water- works at Cape Town ? "
" Well, they give drink to the thirsty they feed the
canal ^and they sprinkle the streets."
" By the way," asked Dr. Vail, *^ when you spoke of Capt.
Lane, you did not mention what had become of him ?"
"Lane," cried Oliver, "has gone to the devil if there
w a devil ^which, it is now said, there isn't."
" What's dat ? " exclaimed Jezebel. *^ Ain't no devil ?
Den what's become ob him ? He used to be in de world
when I was dar. Guess he ain't dead yit. What's de
good book say ? ^ And Satan came also among ^em.^
Now folks know well enough dat when de debbil once
comes among 'em, he never goes away again."
" What is Lane doing ?" inquired Eodney.
" He is in the Confederate service a traitor to his flag,
as he had previously proved a traitor to his friends."
" What news from Sir John Franklin ? "
"As yet none."
" When we go away from here,'^ asked Barbara, " what
is to become of the Coromandel ? "
316 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
*^ I shall tow her to Barbados," replied Capt.^ Chantilly.
** After we get to Barbados," asked Barbara, "what
shall we find ? Is the world there ? I want to see the
world."
" I was never in Barbados but once," said Philip, " and
that was when Forsyth and I were midshipmen on the
Fleetwing. We had a half -day to see the whole island."
" tell me what you saw," inquired Barbara. " Is
Bridgetown as beautiful as Paris ? Lucy Wilmerding
writes that Paris is paradise."
"In Barbados," said Philip, "you will see Trafalgar
Square, and Lord Nelson's monument which we sailors
enyy ; you will see St. Anne's castle ; you will see the
little convent of St. Carliola, with its Sisters of Mercy ;
you will see ants'-eggs or gronnd-pearls, which ladies work
into purses, and string into necklaces ; you will see grou-
grou worms and mosquitos ; and then, after you are tired
of all these sights, great and small, you will see the
Tamaqua weighing anchor in the harbor to take you to
your own land."
" Now," said Barbara, " tell me of Cape Town ; " for,
to Barbara, Cape Town had always l^een one of the chief
capitals of the earth an ideal and sacred city. She had
always pictured Philip as dwelling there. It was a Jeru-
salem or Mecca to which her mind had made many a pil-
grimage.
Philip Chantilly, though given to poetic feeling, and not
averse to an exercise of the imagination, did not paint a
brilliant picture of the ancient city of the Dutch boors in
South Africa.
But he told Barbara how Table Mountain rose majes-
tically, with its flat top overspread by a cloud as with a
cloth ; how the Malay women, with their black hair and
brown babies, formed a phalanx of clothes-washers who
ivashed the city's clothes in the neighboring mountain
INTEBCHANGE. 317
streamfi ; how the fashionable families thought it a hand'
some ornament of the dinner-table to put a live chameleon
on the bread-tray to snap at the flies ; and how the scarlet
heath and blue oxaJis grew in the burial-ground where
Bosa Chantilly lay.
The discourse then took a sombre shade, and touched on
Oliver's bereavement.
*^ Ah, Rodney," said he, *^ what a contrast between your
family and mine ! Your wife, always an invalid, has gone
through trials enough to kill a ship's crew, and yet she
comes out alive and well ; while Rosa the picture of health
^was suddenly blighted like a flower. Compare yourself
with me. You are full of nerve and hope, but I am a
wreck. Ah, Rodney, there is but one love one grief
one life. I have had all these already. You, in the mid-
dle of life, are just at the beginning of it ; but / have
already passed through the beginning the middle ^the
end ^the all.''
*^But, Oliver," interposed Dr. Vail, *^you have Philip."
" No, Rodney, we have no treasure till we lose it. I
never knew what it was to have a wife until I lost her. If
I should lose Philip if a rebel cannon ball should carry
him ofE then I might understand what it was to have
a son, but not till then,"
Barbara gave a low cry at Capt. Ohantilly's allusion to
Philip's possible death. The startled maid turned notice-
ably pale. Cannon-shots had been rather glorious to her
fancy until that moment, but she now instantly changed
her romantic opinion of those fatal missiles.
^^ I wish," said Barbara, " I could learn something of Lucy
"Wilmerding."
This remark made Lieut. O^mmeyer wince, but he
maintained his composure to outward view.
** I have heard," said Philip, *^that Lucy's father lost
his fortune,^nd that his daughter, in consequence, lost her
318 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
lover. That renegade lover, I underetand, is in our navy,
I should expect such a man to prove a renegade every-
where.*'
Oammeyer scowled, but did not otherwise betray himself.
He had no reason to suppose that Philip meant to be per-
sonal. Indeed the Chantillys were wholly ignoi*ant of
Cammeyer's relation to Lucy.
^*This reminds me/' said Oliver, *^that seventeen years
ago on one stormy morning in Cape Town, when I was
waiting for the Ooromandel to arrive, there came a letter
addressed to Mrs. Vail in my wife's care. I judged from
the seal ^for it had the letters L. W. on it-r-that it was
from the Wilmerdings. That letter was laid away for you
by Rosa ; and Philip has it now on board the Tamaqua, in
a box of souvenirs of his mother."
**How glad I shall be," thought Barbara, ^^to read
another letter from Lucy Wilmerding."
As the feast progressed, Beaver took a more and more
distinguished part in it, for not only did Jezebel relax her
severity, but Philip fostered the dog^s intrusion by offering
him an occasional toothsome scrap. Barbara felt that
every courtesy shown to Beaver was a grace to herself. ^ The
dog never relished a lunch more in his life than on this
proud occasion. B^t like all extreme happiness, it was too
fleet to last.
"Beaver," exclaimed Jezebel, pouncing upon him, "git
away ! off wid you ! What's de good book say ? ^ D
dogs shall eat ob de crumbs dat fall from de massa's table.'
But it don't say dat one dog shall eat all de meat in a
whole tin can."
After the repast, Capt. Ohantilly took a look at the^
weather.
" The sky," said he, " looks fickle, and may prove treach-
erous. Philip, if / stay a little longer ashore, you must
^ back to the Tamaqua. Oammeyer, go with Philip
INTERCHANGE. 319
leave him on the steamer and then bring back the boat
with Eobson and Carter, to stay on the island to-night."
It had long been agreed between Philip and his father
that the lieutenant should neyer prefer any request to the
captain, based on a presumed favoritism of father to son.
But it was galling to Philip to go aboard and stay there,
wliile Cammeyer was to come ashore.
;N"ot that Philip imagined Cammeyer capable of dispos-
sessing him in Barbara's mind, but only that a shadow
would be cast on the happiest day of his life.
Had the father known or suspected what was passing in
the son's heart, he would have gone to the ship himself,
leaving his son to be the sole arbiter of his own happiness.
How often do those nearest to us inflict on us uncon-
sciously the greatest wounds which we have to bear in
life!
Philip, after a ceremonious and unsatisfactory leave-
taking of Barbara ^which was vexatiously in the presence
of the rest went to the shore whistled a shrill summons
to the scattered men called them together stepped into
the boat with Cammeyer and put off toward the ship.
It was noticeable, as he sat in the boat's stern, that he
was silent and moody.
"I will send back," thought he, ^^a little packet to Bar-
bara, which Cammeyer shall carry without knowing what
it contains. "
Going into his quarters, Philip opened his writing-desk
and wrote a letter to Barbara.
He then prepared for her a little package, consisting of
many safe wrappings round a box containing a gold ring.
This letter and this package he tied together, addressing
the joint bundle to
Miss Bokhara Tail,
Fortunate Isle,
West Indies,
320 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
The little packet, thus superscribed, was enclosed in
another addressed to his father.
Cammeyer, with a hamper of provisions, now sat in the
stem of the boat, waiting Philip's order.
^^ Here's a trifle which I will ask you to caary to my^
father," said Philip, tossing it down io him with an as-
sumed nonchalance.
Cammeyer caught it, and the boat was off the next
moment.
No sooner had the oarsmen got under swift headway
toward the shore than the wind began to blow.
The Tamaqua immediately weighed anchor and stood
prudently out to sea.
Cammeyer, on landing in the coye, was met by Capt.
Chantilly, who ordered him to take the hamper of provisions
to the Coromandel, and to make himself and his men
comfortable on board for the night, ^as a storm was
brewing.
" Nevertheless," said the captain, ^*I don't think it will
be more than a little puflE, bringing a dash of rain and end-
ing in a fog."
^^It looks a little threatening," remarked Cammeyer,
"and I am glad the Tamaqua has put to sea."
Cammeyer's gladness was not because the ship was put-
ting herself beyond a lee-shore, but because Philip was
going into an enforced exile from Barbara.
Philip's letter to his father was this :
My Dear Fathbe
I would give ten years of my life to be with Barbara this evening.
But you suspected no such desire on my part. So I shall do my duty
without a murmur.
The barometer is at 29, and I expect a blow.
I shall go at once to Barbados for a harbor, and return when the
gale is over.
Commend me to the noblest woman that either you or I have met
I,
INTERCHANaE. 321
8mc6 we parted with her only equal ^whom we lament with mutual
tears.
Your affectionate son,
Philip Chantilly.
The above letter was accompanied with one from Philip
to Barbara ^which Oapt. Chantilly bore to that lady forth-
with.
She was standing on a high bank under a cocoa-palm,
looking at the departing steamer that was bearing away
her loyer.
^*Miss Barbara," said Capt. Chantilly, "my neglectful
son has forgotten to send you the letter from Lucy Wil-
merding, but has remembered to send you one from some-
body else."
Saying which, and making a polite bow, he handed her
Philip's letter with a significant smile on his face, which
she did not understand ; for Barbara was a simpleton in
the ways of the world, and wholly ignorant of the
merry meanings that sometimes glance from gentlemen's
eyes.
"A letter tor me ?" she inquired.
Barbara had never received a letter before, except such
as she had written to herself ; and she now took this unex-
pected and precious morsel as a bird takes a new-found
grain of barley ; that is, she fled away with it.
Heretofore Barbara had never experienced any delight
which she was not willing to share with her father and
mother, particularly with her mother except only her
most secret thoughts, and her most private image-worship.
This letter addressed to herself and no other person
sh%regarded as a very special secret of her own, which she
could not share with anybody else, any more than she could
divide with a friend the beating of her'pulse.
In civilized countries, the post flies by day and night,
carrying letters to rich and poor ; but there had hitherto
322 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
been nothing in civilization or statesmanship or the
nineteenth century or all combined that had been able
to delirer a letter to Barbara Vail.
Barbara, on entering her chamber, shut the door and sat
at her small stained-glass window, holding the letter, un-
opened, in her hand.
^' How strange to get a real letter I " she exclaimed.
" What a curiosity ! ^what a delight ! ''
She held it up she turned it over she reflected it in
the looking-glass she handled and dandled it she caress-
ed and kissed it she scrutinized the seal and its emblem
she wondered how other ladies felt on receiving letters
she speculated as to what might be its contents ^she aflEect-
ed a sweet ignorance as to who could have sent it in
short, she was so full of conflicting fancies respecting it
that she laid it down without opening it, purely in order
to enjoy for a few moments longer the luxury of suspense.
Yes," said she, as with a child's glee over a gilded toy,
I have a letter, and it is mine ; I, Barbara Vail, of this
island the Fortunate Isle ; it is I who have it ; the letter
is my own addressed to nobody but me ; it is all for me
nobody else has had it first ; it is a letter of which I do
not know the contents a letter which I have never read
before ; it is the first letter of this real kind that I have
ever had in my life. what a mystery I "
Then it seemed to her that the unbroken envelope was
sacred, and ought not to be torn ; but she was puzzled to
know how to get into a letter without opening it ; so she
stole out to her mother with a question :
"Mother, if you should receive a lettei* sealed with
wax, how would you open it ? "
" Why, my daughter, I would break the seal."
*^ What ! The pretty seal ? Surely the seal ought not
+0 be broken. There must be some other way."
" You ignorant puss," said her mother smiling, " when
IJ^TTERCHANGE. 323
I speak of breaking the seal, I do not mean taking a
hammer and pounding the wax to powder. To say
* break the seal ' is a figure of speech. If you should live
to get a letter sealed with wax, you would not need to
crush the seal. You would need only to tear or cut the
envelope around the edge of the wax. What innocence ! ''
Barbara went to her room thinking a letter such a
precious thing that there ought to be some way of get-
ting inside of it as into a human heart ^without break-
ing it.
Then^ with her scissors, she cut open the envelope deli-
cately, and laid it away in her box of keepsakes.
This done, she turned from the envelope to the letter.
She ceremoniously unfolded the paper the stiff,
creamy paper the crisp, gilt-edged paper. She was now
ready to read its contents, but before beginning she
paused and drew an excited breath. She experienced
the premonitory rapture of a hungry pilgrim who is
about to enter an open garden of strange fruits. Before
she caught a single word of the writing, her face already
glowed with anticipation of the happiness which her
heart was about to hai'vest.
She then pronounced the written words in a low, mur-
muring, and musical voice, as follows :
On Board the Tamaqua, Sept. 19, 1864.-5 p.m.
My Dear Barbara
Hitherto I have loved no woman save my matchless mother, who
lies in hallowed earth at Cape Town.
Enclosed is a withered flower that I plucked in its bloom from her
grave.
You will find in the little jewel-box, accompanying this note, a ring
she wore. It has never been on any other woman's hand. If you
will put it on yours, in honor of thi& day's meeting, you will
render to her memory an homage which you alone are pure and beau-
tiful enough to pay.
324 TBMPEST-TOSSED.
A storm impends, and the Tamaqua must quit the coast. I shall
steam to Barbados, and ride out the gale in Carlisle Bay. My return
will be as soon as wind and wave will permit. It would be sooner
defying storm and sea if I could follow my heart's wishes ; but I
command a ship that commands me.
This absence pricks me as with a poniard and makes my heart
bleed.
Ever since I kissed your hand to-day, I have felt it at my lips as
if a rose-leaf had blown up against them and softly lodged there.
So I dare to kiss it again and again, without fear and without re-
buke.
May heaven bless its fairest angel on earth I
This is the prayer of
Your true lover,
Philip Chantilly.
If an arrow could enter a doye's breast carrying honey
and balm instead of poison and pain, it would have been
like this sweet dart that touched Barbara to her heart's
core with delight.
She read the letter over and over b, dozen times ; she
put it back into the envelope, and took it out again ; she
re-examined the seal with her most admiring glance ; she
went through the process of receiving the letter afresh,
pretending not to know its contents.
At last, putting down the letter, she caught up her
hand-glass, and, gazing at herself for a moment, threw
away the little mirror with a proud scorn, and exclaimed,
" Farewell, Narcissa, I have a new friend ; I have
Philip. I can do without you. Narcissa, farewell/'
Barbara did not stop to reflect that Narcissa would
hardly be content to remain absent from her for a long
time. Indeed, the probability was strong that, notwith-
standing this rather uncivil parting of ,two old friends
under a temporary sense of mutual disparagement, they
would speedily renew their old companionship, and the
two beauties would again be smilingly comparing their
rival charms in the sumo ;lass.
INTEEOHAKGE. 326
Barbara fell to kissing the letter, which kissed her in
retnm.
*^I may kiss Philip's letter," she said, ^^and yet I haye
never kissed Philip. But Philip kissed my hand so I
will kiss his handwriting. What is his handwriting but
his hand ? I will kiss his name his name is his very self. "
She sat in her griffin-clawed chair, gazing at the stream-
ing and changing lights that came from a lurid and storm -
threatening sunset.
The thoughtful maid, mindful how the Coromandel had
once been wrecked, now sent up her heart to heaven in a
passionate prayer that no harm might come to the great-
hearted sailor the dauntless hero ^the princely lover who
was then rolling about in his rocking ship, and whose
enshrined image was heaving still more tumultuously in
Barbara's tempest-tossed heart.
In a few moments this maidenly heart was set to beating
still faster by a knock at her door.
"Lambkin !" said Jezebel's kindly voice, outside.
" Yes, Aunt Bel," replied Barbara, opening the door
and admitting her life-long guardian and ever-welcome
guest.
*^My dear lamb," said Jezebel, "dat young man hab
come back agin from de ship."
"Who? Philip ?" exclaimed Barbara, with a cry of
delight.
** No, not Philip, but t'odder man de man what dey
call Camphire."
" 0, you mean Lieut. Cammeyer," said Barbara, with a
sigh of disappointment.
" Yes, dat's de man. He has come yer. And he wants
you for to come for to see him. Dat's de way wid de men.
Dey is always dancin' about de women. But, lambkin,
look sharp aginst all sich jumpin'-jacks. What's de good
book say ? ^ Do Lord taketli no delight in de legs ob a
326 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
man,' Why don't he take no delight in deir legs ? 'CausQ;
I suppose, deir ways is bad."
Some wind and rain ^but neither violent ^had given
Lient. Cammeyer a pretext for calling at the house ;
ostensibly to consult Capt. Ohantilly, but really to see
Barbara Vail.
After her first flush of disappointment, Barbara was glad
that he had come. K she could not have Philip's own
society, she could find a secondary pleasure in conversing
with one of Philip's companions.
So, in meeting Cammeyer, Barbara clasped his hand
warmly. She looked into his face winsomely. She
answered his apologies for intrusion by assuring him,
with music in her voice, that she was delighted to see
him.
"No words," said she, "can express the joyful tribute
of thanks which I owe to all the deliverers whom Provi-
dence sent to find us in our lone island."
Lieut. Cammeyer, who, on his way to the house, had
studied how to address himself to Barbara, and who tried
to recall from tlie limited range of his reading some choice
quotation from Shakespeare or Byron, such as would fitly
describe and flatter her, could think of nothing suitable ;
and, having nothing to say, he said nothing.
"Mr. Cammeyer," she remarked, as they sat on the
stony door-step, " my father will never get through talking
with his old friend Capt. Chantilly ; and so you must talk
to me. Tell me something. about the world. I am so
eager to hear all about it I You have visited many coun-
tries. Tell me something about my own. Perhaps you
smile at my country, and think it is the ocean. But
America is my country and yet I have never seen it. Pict-
ure it to me. And then tell me about other countries too
^and their great cities London and Paris and all their
famous structures and monuments. And tell me of the
.'
IXTERCHAKGB, 327
music you have heard the great operas and dramas. My
mother says that Beethoven's ninth symi)hony ^when all
the instruments combine in it melts the listener's soul.
And tell me how the fairies are represented in the Mid-
summer Night's Dream. I once dressed Beaver as Puck,
but hQ behaved badly in his part. And tell me of the
great cathedrals that you have seen. And the Pyramids
did you ever climb them ? And please tell me also of the
shops and bazaars where things are sold. How strange it
musi seem to go to a market-place, and get great stores of
beautiful goods by paying out small coins. And tell me
about the famous paintings and statues, which my father
is always signing to see. What a delight it must be to
gaze at the Apollo Belvidere ? And what is the Greek
Psyche like ? you will think me so ignorant ! But re-
member how much I have missed by being kept away from
life. So please, Mr. Oammeyer, tell mo all about all these
wouderful things."
Barbara poured out this speech with a swift vehemence
of utterance, making the words sparkle as they fell. Her
cool and calculating auditor was astonished at the brilliancy
of her manner. This young woman's enthusiasm, vivacity,
and impetuosity were beyond his comprehension. She was
electric and captivating. He said to himself,
^^ What an actress she would make ! "
Barbara's questions (and she asked a hundred more) were
for the most part beyond her listener's ability to answer.
The young lady seemed to be a sort of animated universal
catechism. Professing to know nothing, she evidently
knew something of everything. This caged bird had been
fed for a lifetime on crumbs of learning.
Nothing slaughters a man's pride so mercilessly as to
find that the woman who fascinates him is his intellectual
superior.
Oammeyer instantly suspected that Barbara saw through
328 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
him, and therefore that she ranked him, unerringly, as a
charlatan.
If Barbara had questioned him concerning business and
profits rates of exchange wages and cargoes tariffs and
harbors ships and armaments ; he could have giyen
praiseworthy answers ; but she had unexpectedly swooped
upon him as the eagle upon the tortoise, and lifted him to
such a perilous height that he had nothing to do but to
fall and be dashed to confusion.
Neyertheless, in many respects Oammeyer was A strong
man and he knew it ; and he knew also that if he could
only get a chance to exhibit his strong qualities, he would
retrieve himself and make a better appearance.
He had a selfish reason why he wished to appear at his
best.
With his neat, trim, officer-like manner with his cool,
shrewd, and ambitious mind with his long-practised
and stringent economy, resulting in a bank account in
New York this gentleman thus equipped for enjoy-
ing life and making a career had always meant to
marry ; provided he could marry well ; that is, pro-
vided he could marry for ehough beside love to make hfe
respectable.
Barbara was an heiress, and Oammeyer knew it.
He knew that Mary Pritchard (whose parents had died
in her childhood) had been brought up by her grandfather,
and had become his sole heir ; he knew that Dr. Vail, on
his father's death, had become his sole heir ; he knew that
the two estates were now in the hands of safe trustees,
awaiting reclamation by the lawful inheritors ; he knew
that this joint property would one day be the sole posses-
sion of Barbara Vail ; and, knowing all this, he conceived
the brilliant idea that this fine fortune should become the
prize of Anthony Oammeyer.
Then, too, besides Barbara's long-waiting wealth, the
INTERCHANGE.
329
young lady (as Oammeyer's eyes delightfully told him) had
unparalleled personal beauty.
*^Yes," said he, "she is a diamond of the first
water.'*
Cammeyer, who had his way to make in the world, here
discovered an unexpected chance to make it.
Since the reign of Lucy Wilmerding, he had seen no
such princess as Barbara Vail. He had thrown away one
golden opportunity ; he would seize and hold fast the
other. Having squandered Lucy, he would economize
Barbara.
Anthony Cammeyer reasoned the case deliberately, and
resolved that Lucy's loss should be Barbara's gain.
But how should he begin to conquer his conqueror ? It
must be by some other mode than ignorantly answering
her wise questions ^for in this way he would certainly be
conquered himself. He must change his tactics.
But to what ?
There are two qualifications for entering into paradise.
One is, to be an archangel ; the other, to be a serpent. If
Cammeyer lacked the graces of the one, he possessed the
subtlety of the other.
CHAPTEE XXTT.
A sailor's yabn.
* ^ Ql HALL we sit nnder these cocoa-trees ? " asked Eod-
^ ney Vail of Oliver Chantilly.
^'No/^ replied Capt. Chantilly, "let us go on board the
ship I am impatient to peer into your dungeon/'
" Dungeon I " exclaimed Eodney, as they ferried them-
selves on board, "no, I cannot call the Ooromandel by
that name. What though she be black as a collier ! smutty
as a chimney-sweep ! nevertheless to me her rusty deck is
holy ground. There is not one of these planks but has
stood between me and death a hundred times. In every
hour of our fear, the staunch ship, with her heart of oak,
was braver than her inmates. My dear Oliver, for the
protection that she gave us, for the home that she kept
walled up around us, for the wise instinct that led her
finally to the land ; for all this, and then, too, because
the ship was Barbara's birth-place cradle play-ground
school-house home country everything ; I love this
old craft as if she were my own flesh and blood. So long
as she and I remain in the same world, I shall never think
of her as an inanimate thing but always as a living creat-
ure a member of the family that she saved."
In saying this, Rodney gently patted the deck with his
foot as he would have patted his dog with his hand.
Oliver Chantilly espied on deck near the foremast a com-
380
A SAILOB^S TABK. 831
plex mechanical contrivance, with heavy timbers, and with
long levers lik^ capstan-bars.
" What is yonder strange machine ? '^
^^That,^^ replied Eodney, *^is the press with which I
manufactured the ship's fuel from sea-weed. I gathered
the floating grass dried it on the deck like hay bound
it into bales and crushed each bale between the jaws of
this press into a solid block of coke, shaped like a bar of
pig-iron. Come down with me into the forecastle, and I
will show you a dozen cords of this grass-wood, piled up
as in a woodshed. ''
Lifting a hatch, they descended into the Plutonian region
from which the ship's fires were thus strangely fed out of
the water.
*^Did this stuff burn well ? " asked Oliver, examining it
in the dim forecastle.
^^ Yes, for I larded it with blubber, or sprinkled it with
oil. Fortunately we needed fire, not to warm our cabin,
but only to cook our meals. Even our provisions had
mostly been cooked on being first put into the cans. A
Uttle fuel, therefore, would go a great way. I might have
made fagots for a time of the ship's interior woodwork
such as bulkheads, and the like but as the old craft had
been burned on the outside, I spared her within.
" I had a few casks of alcohol, and rigged a spirit-lamp ;
but I knew that these casks, once empty, would need, like
the widow's cruise, Elijah's magic to fill them again. Oil
I had of my own manufacture from the fat of the por-
poise. Thafs a barrel of it on your left, yonder. And I
have only to tap that bung, fill my lamp from it, and trim the
flannel wick, to show you at night the smokiest lamp-light
you ever saw.
^* To collect the sea-weed, I constructed large rakes,
which I kept constantly in tow, and reaped the ocean's
surface of its grass for thousands of square miles. I have
332 TBMPEST-TOSSBD,
harvested the largest meadows^in the world. Possessing
not an acre of land, I was probably the largest farmer
among all mankind and, lifite the austere man in the
parable, I reaped where I had not sown, and gathered
where I had not strown. On many a midsummer's day,
this deck has been knee-deep with sea-grass outspread to
sun and wind. Barbara and Beaver would romp and
frolic in it as in a hay-mow, and birds of passage would
stop in their flight to perch upon it for a moment's rest,
mistaking it for an island."
" Have you ever eaten this sea-grass ? " asked Oliver.
" Our boys on the Tamaqua sometimes relish it as a nov-
elty. It is not a bad spinach.''
^^Yes," said Eodney, "we have not only put onr sea-
weeds under the pot, to make it boil, but into the pot, to be
boiled. Take these weeds fresh from the water, dripping
and un wilted, and they are then two-thirds sugar and starch ;
thev vie with oatmeal and Indian com. The Hebrews had
a manna of the desert ; the sea- weed is a manna of the
sea. How often I have relished it with sweet oil, pepper,
and vinegar I It must have been Neptune's salad/'
" Did the ship ever spring a leak ? " *
" No, never ; her frame, you see, is bony as a giant's
her shell strong as a helmet. You know she was planned
for an Arctic voyage. But a smaller ship was wanted for
that service. The Coromandel is over four hundred tons ;
too large for ploughing the ice. Baffin's flag-ship was
only eighty tons Frobisher's three vessels were altogether
only seventy-five. But the mistake in the Coromandel's
size was a happy mistake for me and mine. It kept us
afloat in an ark of safety ^in a tower of refuge.
" Yes, the ship is staunchness itself. Over the whole
framework there is a double planking, composing two
complete sheathings ^making a ship, within a ship, like a
-hell within a shell. Each of these wooden walls is of
A sailob's yabk. 333
three-inch plank. Between the two walls is an interven-
ing space of a hand's-breadth, packed water-tight with
tarred felt. You might pull off the outer ship like the
rind of a nut, and the inner, shell would still remain a per-
fect hull as stout as any East Indiaman that ever braved
a storm.
^^Then, too, the whole interior is lined throughout with
cork, as you see. This was put on because, in the Arctic
climate, cork would have a low conducting power, and
would prevent the condensation of moisture inside the
ship. Knock your knuckles against the ceiling or sides
anywhere thus there is no hollow sound. Take this
handspike and strike as hard as you can ^you will get no
reverberation. Would you expect such a vessel to spring
a leak ? How many years could the Club of Hercules, if
cast afloat on the high seas, drift about without going to
pieces ? Eemember, too, that though the Coromandel
was built for the wintriest region of the globe, yet her lot
has been cast in continuous summer and perpetual calm.'^
" What a freak of fate,'^ exclaimed Oliver, *' that a ship,
built to battle with Arctic icebergs, should have dozed
away a lazy life on a midsummer sea ! "
" You remember," said Bodney, " that the CoromandePs
original name was the North Star. But the strange-fated
ship haa seen so little of the North that she has never yet
found a field of ice, nor felt a flake of snow. I often
sighed, yearned, longed for a whiff of winter. Sometimes
when tha thermometer was at 90 on deck, I used to come
down into the cool cabin, stretch my weary limbs on our
white woU-skin, and imagine myself in a snow-drift. If
Jack Frost had made an occasional visit to the Coroman-
del, he would have been a welcome guest ; but he never
blew his breath against our window-panes. Barbara,
child of the summer, has a profound curiosity to see ice
and gnow."
334 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
The two comrades then passed from the forecastle
through a bnlkhead into the hold, where the cans were
stored.
*^Did any of your provisions mildew and spoil ?''
^^ Yes, a few did, years ago particularly the cans of
com, tomatoes, and plums. This was during the pro-
longed rainy weather, when the dampness struck the cans
with rust, and the rust ate through the tin. But I then
invited the porpoises to come on board and oil my cans ;
after which the rust ceased altogether, and the mildew
with it.''
^^ Eodney, if you had sailed five years before you did,
you could not have carried with you such perfectly-cured
provisions. This simple art so full of mercy to the cast-
away ^is now carried to such perfection that there is no
reason why a can of meat or a jar of plums should not
last as long as the Pyramids. But did you not often suffer
from thirst ? ''
" No, we were spared that pang. Before the fire, the
ship had five water-tanks. On that fearful night, one of
these was broken to pieces by a falling spar. The other four
were left unharmed. All these I kept open to catch every
shower. In addition to these water-butts, I arranged the
six hogsheads that you see in this row. I had thus ten
water- vessels containing in all, when full, thirteen hun-
dred gallons ; which was about three and a half gallons a
day for a year in advance.
^^ To catch the rain, I stretched out between four posts,
amid-ships, a clean white bed-sheet like a flat roof, and,
putting a small weight in the centre of the sheet, filtered
the water through this strainer, and conducted it by
troughs to the tanks.
" In a shower we frequently hung out our clothes to be
freshened. In the' sultry season we washed them in salt
-ater, and rinsed them in fresh. Our sheets, pillow-
A sailor's tarn. 335
cases^ pocket-handkerchiefs, were thus kept, all the year
round, not exactly like larendered linen, yet sweet and
pure/'
^' Did yon distil salt water ? "
*'Yes, on Capt. Oazneau's plan. He boiled sea-water
in a tea-kettle, and passed the steam through a pistol-
barrel, which he kept cold by wet cloths, so that it con-
densed the steam into drinkable fresh water. My contri-
vance was more extensive : instead of a tea-kettle, I used
an iron pot, and instead of a pistol, a double-barreled
gun. We called the distillation from this warlike instm-
ment our ^gunpowder tea.' But we usually had rain-
water enough to dispense with our Cazneau teapot.''
" To grope under this deck," said Oliver, " is like ex-
ploring the Catacombs."
. ** Follow me I" said Kodney, who then led his friend
through a dark passage suddenly into the cabin.
A mild light was streaming through the plate glass in
the ceiling, and through the two windows at the stem.
" By Jupiter ! " exclaimed Oliver, who was sfcruck with
the cheeriness of the interior, " this is not shipwreck !
this is luxury I Bless my soul ! ^a piano a writing-
desk a flower-pot pictures in the panels rugs on the
floor ^books in the library ^lounges easy chairs frescoes
over head ^why, Eodney, your rusty old sea-shell has a
pearl lining ! Let me tell you, sir, that the government
does not provide me such quarters on the Tamaqua."
Dr. Vail proudly smiled at the pleasure which his friend
took in the old ship.
" Eoom No. 13, yonder," said Eodney, *' is Barbara's.
Come and see it. No, it is locked, and she has the key.
No. 2, on the other side, is Mary's. No. 4, Jezebel's.
No.. 5, the school-room* Some of the rooms are filled with
fruit- jars, but we have spare beds enough to accommodate
our friends. Here is No. 10 where Cammeyer slept las'
336 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
night. Eobson and Carter were next door in No. 8. Here
is No. 16 my junk-shop.''
Dr. Vail opened the door and showed Oliver a mnsenm
of weapons, tools, instruments, and utensils of various
sorts. There was a carpenter's work-bench with planes,
chisels, and augers. There were brackets and pegs on the
wall, holding fish-lines, decoys, harpoons and barbs.
There was a rack full of firearms. There was a chronom-
eter in an ebony box, together with five or six watches
hanging side by side, all ticking.
" These time pieces," said Rodney, ^^ and the watch in
my pocket, have never in seventeen years been allowed to
run down."
After a prolonged look at this curiosity-shop, Oliver
walked to the after end of the cabin and noticed the dead
geranium, which struck him with a pathetic interest.
" Death," sighed he, ^^ which has withered for yot^onlj
a few green leaves, has in .my house cut down my fair
Rose. What is this scroll ?" pointing to a piece of white
paper pinned to the Leaning Tower of Pisa.
"That's the ship's bulletin," replied Rodney, "and
gives the play-bill of our last dramatic performance at
sea."
Oliver laid his hand on the shriveled paper, and, straight-
ening out the wrinkles, read as follows :
THE OCEANIC THEATRE,
ON BOARD THE SHIP COBOMANDEL.
A Matinee Performance will be given on Saturday next, May 18th,
1864, on which occasion will be presented
THB X7NSHAKESPEABBAN COMBDY
OF
JULIO AND ROMIET,
with an entirely new cast of characters not included in the original
play by the Great Bard, to wit
A bailor's yjlri{. 337
Jtdio - - - - Dr. R. Vail.
Romiet --.--.-.- Miss B. Vail.
The Watery (instead of Fiery) Tybalt - - - - Mr. Beaver.
Nurse and Frier (t la gridiron) - - . - Mrs. Jezebel.
P. S. ^Boys not admitted unless accompanied by their parents or
guardians.
On perusing the above, a smile passed over Oliver's face,
followed by a shade, and he exclaimed with a sigh,
"After all, Rodney, it is I who, in prosperity, have
had life's tragedy, while you, in adversity, have had its
comedy."
Dr. Vail opened his writing-desk and exhibited his log
and journal.
*' How did you take your latitude and longitude ?"
" In a fashion so rude," replied the navigator, "that I
never knew whether my figures were right or wrong. At
first, I thought I was without a chronometer. But you
have just 'seen the instrument in the ebony box. It is the
Harrison pattern, and set to Greenwich time. On the day
after the shipwreck, I found jt in No. 11 (the Eev. Mr.
Atwill's room), ticking as it ticks now. I do not know
how much it has since gained or lost.
" I would have given a little finger for Lane's copy of
Bowditch's Navigator, which the fugitive carried off with
him. All the tables I. had were those in the Nautical
Almanac of 1847. Here it is. It is very stale now. I
corrected it year after year by guess. It served me better
for the open sea than it would have done for a dangerous
coast.
" I made a sun-dial. You will see it on the binnacle.
In perfectly calm, bright weather, while the ship lay
motionless, this dial assisted "its shadows to deter-
mine the noon. After long habit, 1 became able, without
watch or dial, but by simply glancing at the sky, to deter-
mine the sun's meridian within a few minutes. Having
338 TEMPEST-TOSSEB.
my nooning, or my best approach to it, then by my Hadley's
quadrant (this little one on the top of my desk) I found
the sun's altitude, and thence deduced the ship's latitude.
Then relying on my chronometer to giye me the Green-
wich time I compared the Greenwich time with my own
time, and so got my longitu(ie as near as I could.
" Whether my calculations ever came within a hundred
miles of my true position, I could neyer tell. But even if
I could have taken my bearings to an exact fraction, still
as I had no map, nor Bowditch's list of prominent points
round the world with their latitudes and longitudes (from
which I might have roughly constructed a map), I never
knew my geographical location. Of course, as years ad-
vanced, and as my chronometer and my watches fell away
from rectitude, I had less and less confidence in my observa-
tions. What they chiefly told me was, that I was in the
midst of a wilderness of waters from which the land kept
fleeing forever away. Here is a map of our voyage."
Dr. Vail opened a lower drawer in his desk, and took
out a long roll of brown paper, which he unrolled and
hung against the door of the book-case.
It was a singular map.
A line ran horizontally across the middle of the sheet to
represent the equator. Another line, crossing this at right
angles, and a little to the right of the centre, stood for
the meridian of Greenwich. Once a week, on' this scroll,
Dr. Vail habitually marked a dot indicating his latitude
and longitude at the time. Each week's course he
chronicled by a waved line between the latest two of these
dots. These lines, as they lengthened and accumulated,
looked at last like a snarl of black thread.
"This map,"exclp.l iH Oliver, "is like the diagram of
a drunken man's staggerings to and fro."
"Yes," said Kodney, "the ship and I were the blind'
leading the blind. Look 1 These inky zigzags are like
A sailor's yabh. 339
the wanderings of some restless ant, imprisoned for a
whole summer on a single sheet of paper running back-
ward and forward, hither and yon. The ship crept first
one way, then another ; boxing and unboxing the compass
as often as the winds did ; first describing one eccentric
figure, then another ; making progress one day and un-
making it the next ; always beginning a new voyage, but
never ending the old one. It was a circumnavigation of
nothing.
"I kept marking my course on this map until the lines
ran into each other so often that if I had continued this
linear record during the whole time of our shifting lodge-
ment in the mid- Atlantic, the sheet would have grown to
be one black blot.''
^^ Were you not always expecting some passing ship ?"
^^ Yes, and when none appeared, I sometimes asked my-
self. Had the commerce of the world been destroyed ? or
was I sailing on some unrecorded sea ? I did indeed find
some vessels ; for at twenty-one different times, noted in my
journal, I detected the upper sails of some far-off voyager
whose hull, to me, like mine to him, was below the horizon.
'^^I had a flag of distress, reaching as high in the air as
I could rig a rickety prop to carry it in calm weather ; but
my flag must have appeared, at a few miles' distance, a
mere speck against the low sky, and my flag-staff a mere
spider's thread."
. ^^I knew," said Oliver, with a sigh ^thinking over his
past searches for the Coromandel " I knew there were
small hopes of your being discovered in that deserted sea
except by some chance wanderer like yourself."
" Small indeed ! " replied Eodney. '* I was out of the
way of the world's commerce. Take, for instance, the
ships bound from the United States to Great Britain ; I
was far below their latitudes. Take the ships from New
York or Liverpool to the Cape of Good Hope ; I was to
B40 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
westward of their common course. Take the shipfi return-
ing from China to Boston ; I missed all these in losing the
trade- wind. Take the whalers ; I might have met with
some of these, for they go everywhere ; but they are a
small flock, scattered from pole to pole ; and they seldom
meet even one another."
" You had plenty of leisure for hunting and fishing,"
observed Oliver.
"Yes. All the fish in the sea and all the birds in the
air were mine if I could only catch them. I spent days
in devising snares, baits, weapons, and stratagems. Neces-
sity is the mother of invention, and I learned to put a filial
trust in her mother-wit.
"Occasionally I saw a spermaceti whale, with a head
full of sperm candles which I wanted for our evening
parlor ; but this was always a vain wish, for I could never
offer battle to such a giant ; I was unwilling to risk my
precious tackle on any game heavier than the dolphin or
the porpoise.
" The sea, I think, must contain as many porpoises as
the land counts cattle on a thousand hills 1 While the
Coromandel was on her outward voyage to Africa, these
gymnasts would get under her bow and keep pace with her
for hours together. After the old ship lost her masts
and sails, she could not give them so merry a race.
Nevertheless, as the tortoise wins against the hare, so I
often won against these scampering hares of the waves ;
for I picked many a young one out of the water with my
harpoon. ^
" At first I often missed my aim miscalculating the re-
fraction, and pricking my fish with one or two prongs in-
stead of five. The barbs would then tear out from the fat
flesh, leaving the mad creature to go free. But when my
weapon sank de'ep, the victim would leap plunge shoot
awftv with the speed of an arrow ^roll and snort ^unreel
WW
A sailob's yaek. 341
my slender rope from its wooden cylinder for three or four
hundred fathoms and fight bravely for his life, while all
his companions would race after him to be in at the death.
I haye taken a porpoise five feet seven inches long."
** Did you eat him ?"
'^ Yes, we ate his choice morsels. He made good cut-
lets. Once, in London, I attended the Lord Mayor's din-
ner, and among the dishes was the porpoise. Our English
forefathers regarded this as a dish to set before the king.
It was served up at state-dinners in the Elizabethan court.
Quite likely Lord Bacon ate of it at the palace, and Shake-
speare at the Mermaid Tavern. And as it was relished by
Queen Bess in her banquet-hall, it was also relishable to
Queen Mary in my cabin.''
" Did the sharks ever follow you ?"
"Yes, sometimes. One huge man-eater ^the white
shark that the sailors hate ^glided like a ghost round the
ship, off and on, for twelve days, until at last the pallid
spectre began to swim through my brain at night. There
was something hideous in his close companionship. His
small, merciless eyes would look at Barbara when she lean-
ed over the rail as if he wanted to eat her at a mouthful.
I threw him a water-pail. He turned over, belly upward,
and took the floating pail at a snap. I then resolved to
get my pail back. So I fixed an iron hook at the end of a
spare halyard made a bait of blubber nipped the sinner
in the lower jaw and after allowing him ample leisure to
shrive himself for death, I inflicted the penalty. I then cut
him opeii, and took out my pail."
" Did you ever catch a manatee ? what our boys nick-
name the sea-cow ? "
"Yes, twice, but not until I was in West Indian
waters."
" Did you ever snap up a sea-turtle ?*'
*^Yes," replied Rodney, "but the turtles were hard t
342
TEMPEST-TOSSED.
catch. One would come to the smooth surface bask in
the sun asleep give the whale-birds a chance to rest on
his shelly back ^and then, at the slightest noise, would
go down like a stone. Occasionally one would bite a bait,
but the hook would necessarily be small, the tackle light,
and the creature so powerful that he v/ould go gadding off
and by main force break away.
' *^ At last I took, an empty firkin corked it tight to serve
as a float hung the bait from the handle and attached a
long rope to an iron ring in the bottom ; ^the bottom float-
ing upward, and the bait downward. This stratagem work-
ed to a charm. The turtle, on nabbing the hook and
feeling its pricks in his beak, would instantly sink, carrying
the buoy with him ; but the buoy perpetually dragged him
up again, so that the further he went down, the further he
had to come back. Such a strain, after an hour or two,
would exhaust him. I could then easily haul him to the
ship's side, gaff him under a flipper with a boat-hook, and
hoist him home.
" Here is a sea-turtle's shell. I fixed strings to it, to
make a harp for Barbara ; but I could never get the notes
to chord ; and though I was more anxious to draw the trees
and rocks toward me than ever Orpheus was, yet at the
sound of my pior shell, they never came any nearer.''
" I have often thought it strange," remarked Oliver,
" that birds should fly so far out to sea, and be found so
many miles from their nests."
" But," said Eodney, " they carry their nests with them ;
they sleep in their own feathers, as the bear does in his own
fur, when he hibernates. A marine bird is sovereign over
land, sea, and sky ; he lords it over all three of the
world's great trinity of realms. What a superiority to
man's limitations ?
" My weapons for capturing birds, you saw in the rack ;
first of all, I had Captain Lane's fowling-piece with cart-
(. 1 I. L I
V
A bailoe's yabn. 343
ridges to match ; and then two revolvers left by Mr. Good-
rich in No. 8, each of which had its own limited
supply of catridges. ThereVas no loose powder or shot
about the ship, either in flask or horn ; nothing but these
cartridges. This little stock of ammunition I guarded
with jealous care, and used only on rare occasions.
^^ As a substitute for fire-arms, I made an archer's bow
see 1 try and beiid it against your knee ; it is made of
successive layers of barrel-hoops, wrapped round and
bound fast with wire ; it looks like a wagon-spring.
" For arrows, look at these made from the gilt mould-
ings of the cabin doors. These steel points were knife-
blades. Each arrow is a lance, not a barb ; for these
weapoijs were too precious to be lost ; so, before shooting
one of them, I attached to it a fish-line by which to pull it
back. In calm weather I frequently shot, a lance into
^ome bird that perched on the ship's rail, or rested on the
waves. Sometimes I killed him on the wing. Beaver
had no happier moments than when he plunged into the
water to seize and bring home my game.
^^ But I had other resources more crafty than this arch-
ery. I used to set snares on the deck to trip the birds by
the legs. Then, too, when a flock of water-fowl lighted on
the ship, I struck them with a staff. Sometimes the credu-
lous creatures, particularly when the deck was covered
with sea-weed, would mistake the ship for an island, and
would settle down upon it in great numbers. Then being
unsuspicious of danger, they were easily approached, and
gave up their lives at a stroke."
^^ Did you ever eat the ship's barnacles ? "
^' Yes, often. I divided each side of the ship into bar-
nacle-beds, and with a long-handled scraper raked the
beds in succession. While we were eating the crop from
one patch, we gave the rest cf our plantation time to
grow. In forty days a barnacle would grow half an inch
^"-
* "
344 TEMPEST-TOSSEf).
long ; in three months it would reach its full size, nearly
an inch almost as big as the miniature oyster of the
epicure. But I found the Bkrnaole to be unwholesome
food, and gave up the cultivation/'
" How did you manufacture your salt ? "
"My method was to dip bed-sheets overboard, then
hang them in the sun to dry, and after the water had
evaporated, collect the salt that adhered shaking it off
like sand. Boiling the water would have been easier,
but I could not afford the fire. In the climate of Capri-
corji, from a thousand parts of sea-water I obtained thirty-
four parts of salt ; under the Equator, sometimes thirty-five
or six. At one period I had twenty-six hundred pounds
of packed and salted fish and fowl, which I had caught
and cured."
" Were you never without relishable food ? '*
'^ Yes, always, for I was like all other human malcon-
tents, and longed for what I had not ; for instance, for a
cow and her milk ^f or a shoulder of mutton for a saddle
of venison ; but whenever I confessed to such cravings,
my wife rebuked me and called it impious to repine. As
for Barbara, who had never nibbled a mutton-chop in her
life, nor seen a slice of fresh meat, nor tasted a boiled egg
except now and then a bird's egg, laid in a stolen nest
among our sea- weed on deck she was content to be with-
out the luxuries which she did not know how to crave.''
" How did you preserve your health ? "
" It was by keeping this little box locked," said Dr.
Vail, smiling and pointing to his medicine-chest. ** 1
opened it of tener for Beaver than for any other member oi
the family. I threw more physic to my dog than I took
myself. Beaver would watch all night in the rain, and
have a regular influenza in the morning. Then, in the
clear weather, he would get half blinded by the sunliglit,
9.nd would come to me to bathe his eyes with digitalis and
I' .
A sailor's yaen. 345
water. I could cure him of everything but old age ; he
was the first t)f our company to become a patriarch ante-
dating Jezebel herself. At teji years Beaver began to show
gray hairs in his brown coat. Occasionally one of his teeth
Tvould*loosen ; and, as it never grew firm again, would soon
iall out. Whenever Beaver lost a tooth we had a season
of mourning, as if at a funeral ; for we relied on him for
our marketing, particularly in fresh fish and poultry,
and considered every one of his teeth a valuable family
servant.
" Jezebel, who came of a race native to the climate in
which we resided, rarely had a sick day, but slowly waxed
fat, and fed her lamp of life with her unfailing natural
oils.
"Barbara had her teething and her croups, but has
never yet had her measles. For, as Jezebel says, ^Dar
bein' nobody to cotch de measles from, dar aint no measles
to cotch.' Barbara, I am sorry to say, has thus far escaped
also whooping-cough and mumps. All these enemies will
be lying in wait for her on her entrance into the world.
" Her mother, who used to be an occasional martyr to
the sick-headache (by the way, Oliver, do all the women
in the civilized world still have headaches as they did in
my time ?) overcame this tendency at sea. Of co^rse
she never grew robust, for a morning-glory cannot change
into an oak.
" My own ailments were principally fevers, caught from
my over-anxieties, prolonged watchings, and harassed
mind.
"But what family, in any climate, amid all comforts,
could reasonably expect to remain more exempt than mine
did from the natural ills that flesh is heir to ? Indeed, we
had more than the common share, not of disease, but of
exemptions.
" 'The will,' says the philosopher, 'that is the man.'
346 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
I f onnd that a strong will a desperate determination not
to be sick ^was the best way ta keep well. The mind is a
magical protector of the body. 'A cheerful heart doeth
good like a medicine.'
" The ship's sanitary regulations I rigidly enforced, and
chiefly against myself. I maintained a miUtary order and
precision in working the pumps washing the clothes
airing the cabins-r-timing the meals to have them regular
changing the diet to keep it wholesome sleeping unex-
posed to the night-damps-T-and, above all, providing con-
stant occupation of mind, not omitting cheerful music,
merry laughter, and diverting talk.
" One infirmity we all outgrew sea-sickness. There is
a sure cure for sea-sickness ; and that is, to live altogether
at sea, or altogether on land.
" Then, too, I escaped one of the chief troubles of life
want of money. 1 always kept a little gold and silver
in my pocket see, these coins have worn each other's faces
off and grown smooth. My cash balance on hand was
always sufficient to keep me free from all pecuniary frets
and cares. If I was not a millionaire, still I always had
more money than I could possibly spend. But like many
a richer man, I derived little comfort from nfy wealth."
" How often," asked Oliver, " did you throw overboard
a message ? "
*^Too many times," replied Eodney, "to count the
number ; for whenever we emptied a glass-jar that was
stout enough to be a message-bearer (generally an olive-
jar), I put into it a record of our misfortunes, sealed it
tight, and cast it overboard. Sometimes, as if loth to part
with us, our little messenger would keep within our sight
for a day or two. I suspect that fully one-half of these,
and of all similar waifs thrown from ships at sea, are swal-
lowed by sharks just as happened to my water-pail..
Nevertheless, as I used to hear stories of such missives
.A sailob's tarh. 347
reaching the shore, or getting picked up at sea, I hoped
that some of mine wonld reach the eyes of men. At least,
I arlways had the satisfaction of feeling, whenever I cast
one of these bottles overboard, that I was dropping a
letter into the post-office. If it never reaehed its destina-
tion, the fatality was no greater than frequently used to
happen to a letter posted from Salem to Boston.'*
"You were saved from one peril,'' said Oliver, "you
had no mutinous crew."
'^Yes I had, for I was a mutineer myself. Some-
times my mind, notwithstanding my best efforts to set a
watch at the gate of my rebellious thoughts, would admit
into the citadel a banditti of cunning assassins in the shape
of insane apprehensions and unconscionable hallucina-
tions !
'^ I feared, for instance, that a sword-fish would scuttle
the ship ^that the copper sheathing would peel off aud
admit the ship-worm to honeycomb his way inside ^that
the coral insects would deposit their rock against our keel
and gradually draw us down that a water-spout would
overwhelm us that lightning would revenge its first fail-
ure and strike us again ^that an upset lamp would set the
ship on fire ^that dry-rot would eat the timbers to punk
and powder ^that a sudden leak would pour the ocean into
us that the cargo would turn topsy-turvy and capsize the
ship ^that on some moonlight night we would be lured
to walk on the sea's silver bridge to our destruction that
we would lose our reason and the Coromandel become a
mad-house ^that Beaver wolild turn hydrophobic and bite
us -with frothy mouth ^that death would smite some of us,
leaving the survivors worse than dead : ^all these and a
thousand other grim and dismal fancies haunted my
gloomy mind ^playing with windy breath on its -^olian
chords of fear and dread.
"On the other hand, quickly reacting from despond-
348 TEMPESX-TOSSED.
ency to hope I was cheated by the mirage. Sometimes
green islands would appear lying just before ns in plain
sight within easy reach ; or a ship under full sail wduld
be palpably bearing down to rescue us. Sometimes I fan-
cied a procession of our friends approaching from a distance.
Sometimes I could see the streets of Salem thronged with a
public reception on our arrival. Sometimes I was out of
the body, standing off at a safe and happy distance from
present perils, and looking at myself as if I were another
man.
*' Long ago I ceased to wonder that sailors have sworn to
seeing the Fata Morgana ; or that the Canary Islanders
have descried off their coast the visionary Isle of St. Bran-
don ; or that the boatmen in the Straits of Messina have
beheld the city of Eeggio thrown up into the sky.'*
"I imagine," said Oliver, "that as each day ended, you
must have rejoiced at the flight of time. "
"Ah ! " exclaimed the wanderer, heaving a sigh at the
recollection, " time with us seemed never to be in flight,
but always to be sitting with folded wing, perched like a
bird of ill-omen on our doomed craft. The exact period
from our shipwreck to our landing was from October 1st,
1847, to May 16th, 1864. Sixteen years, seven months,
and fifteen days."
"As /look back," said Oliver, "to the shipwreck, the
time ^long as it is seems hardly long enough to have per-
mitted Barbara to grow from a child to a woman."
"Our daughter," said Rodney, "was our almanac.
Whenever Mary and I tried to recall the date of some par-
ticular storm, or any half -forgotten event, we seldom turned
to our diaries, but said, ^ It was when Barbara was a baby
or before Barbara was seven years old or after Barbara's
eleventh birthday.' So as one cuts names into the bark of
a tree, we notched our years into the fair rind of Barbara's
growth."
A sailor's yarn. 349
*' Eodney, when you first found yourself a castaway, were
you terror-stricken at the situation ? "
^^ If/' said Dr. Vail, " some good or evil spirit had then
announced to me that, within this dismantled wreck, we
were to dwell for nearly seventeen years, forbidden during
all that time to touch or see the shore, ^and yet, that in
spite of these perils, we were to live and prosper, instead
of miserably perishing, leaving none to tell the tale ; I
would not have believed it no ^not though one had risen
from the dead."
While Dr.' Vail and his friend sat on the deck, in a
couple of old willow-chairs, talking of the ship and her
company, going over the multitudinous particulars of
their voyage, their provisions, their privations, their make-
shifts, their hopes and fears, their daily life and longings,
their health and sickness, and their final escape from the
lonely sea to the lonely isle, ^the sinking sun had almost
set.
"It is past the time," said Eodney, "at which we prom-
ised Mary to return to the house."
Just then, emerging from the cocoa-nut trees, Barbara,
who had been sent by her mother to call her father, ran
down to the water's-edge, followed at a few paces by
Anthony Cammeyer.
The merry maid took off her straw-bonnet and waved it
to the loiterers on the ship, calling them with a ringing
voice to supper, at which they must not dare to be late, she
said, for fear of Jezebers frown.
The two friends on the ship immediately stepped into
the ferry-basket, and the two on shore (not waiting, and
perhaps not wishing, to be joined by their elders) tripped
side by side briskly out of sight among the cocoa-palms.
CHAPTER XXIIL
AW OUTSTRETCHED HAOTJ.
4
AS a rich soil, hitherto implanted, takes eagerly the seed
of the first sower, so Barbara's heart, into which
neyer before had any lover dropped a word of love, at last
received the magical germ ; and this germ, under the
bedewing of the maiden's joyful tears, blossomed by instant
miracle into perfect bloom ; ^f or the swift soul, unlike the
slow soil, needs not to tarry for the tedious progress of the
seasons, but may ordain the seed and its harvest so near
together that it can plant the one and reap the other at
the same moment.
To Barbara the miracle was, not that she was in love
with Philip, but that Philip was in love with her,
Barbara's love now of so long a date in her constant
heart had originally overtaken her on the drifting ship
just as it would have done in a crowded city ; for it is
woman's nature to love, even before it is her fortune to
have a lover. It has already been suflBcently explained
how Barbara never once imagined that, during all her
years of love and longing for Philip, there had been a paral-
lel experience in the breast of her unseen lover ; an un-
known reciprocity of attachment between them ; ^an un-
suspected knitting together of their two lives into one as
by a prearranged destiny.
It is hardly necessary, therefore, to say that neither
Anthony Cammeyer nor any other person could come
350*
AN OUTSTBETOHED HAND. 351
between Barbara and the one beloved object of her heart's
fealty.
But in Philip's absence, his ambitious rival, having the
common self-complacency which marks all such charac-
ters, quickly forgot the first abashed confusion which
he had felt in Barbara's presence, and saw no reason
why his superior oflficer should possess any greater in-
fluence than his own with an unworldly woman's virgin
heart.
This natural vanity in Cammeyer was now inadvertently
fostered in him, first by Mrs. Vail and then by Barbara ;
for Mrs, Vail exhibited toward him a marked politeness
which her daughter was quick to perceive, and which, per-
ceiving, she closely imitated in her own deportment as the
proper polite model for her to copy.
Accordingly Barbara was full of extraordinary attentions
to Anthony Oammeyer in Philip Chantilly's absence.
Probably, had this ambitious man known the real state
of Barbara's heart ; had he dreamed that for Philip Chan-
tilly her first, ^ her chief, her only accepted lover she
had already filled the wine-cup of her oblation to overfiow-
ing, and that what she was giving to the second comer was
only the good- will which she had for this friend as she had
the same feeling for every ofiicer and sailor on Philip's
ship ; ^it is quite possible that Anthony Cammeyer would
have quenched the promptings of his ambition, and left
the great prize in the peaceful possession of its first captor.
But Lieut. Cammeyer knew nothing of this. He mis-
interpreted Mrs. Vail ; he misinterpreted Barbara ; he
misinterpreted the situation. And accordingly he was
unconsciously engendering misery for all.
During Philip's absence which had now prolonged
itself beyond the rough weather of the second day into the
sunshine of the third Capt. Chantilly and Dr. Vail talked
incessantly together ; opening the volumes of two whole
352 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
lives to each other, and discussing the history of the world
during seventeen of its most eventful years.
This left Barbara frequently in the company of Cam-
meyer.
That shrewd officer fancied that his fortune now hung
before him like a golden apple, waiting to be plucked.
Anthony and Barbara took walks together, scouring the
island in every nook and cranny : visiting the coral rocks
and inlets ; rambling among the pineapples and plantains ;
plucking the red roses and the redder cardinal flowers ;
singling out the Berenice butterflies ; listening to the
screaming macaws ; beckoning to the dwarf goats ; and
climbing the hillocks for outlooks to the sea, ,
" Are you interested in geology, Mr. Cammeyer ? '^ she
asked.
" Ye-es, a little,*' he replied, meaning a very little.
"By standing here on this rock," said she, "you can
see the whole coast of the island. Notice yonder how the
ground rises in terraces toward a central ridge of conical
hills ^though my father smiles at me for calling them
hills, and says they have not risen high enough in the
world to be entitled to such honors. On the northwest,
as you may observe, the rocks are of coralline limestone.
Here on this eastern side, you will recognize under us
strata of silicious sandstone, intermixed with ferruginous
matter the calcareous sandstone passing into silicious
limestone."
"How did you learn all this ?" asked Cammeyer, sur-
prised at her profundity.
She replied laughingly, "I have yet learned so little t)f
the wonders of Nature during our few months' residence
here, that I have often wished myself Oambuscan's
daughter."
" Cambuscan ? " inquired Cammeyer, " who was Tie 9 "
" ^^'" exclaimed Barbara, surprised that any inhabi-
AH OtTTSTBETCHED HAND. 353
tant of the outer world should be ignorant of so pal-
pable a fact in himian history. *'He was the King of
Tartary.^'
"Bless me !" cried Cammeyer, with an effort at a jest,
i^ why do you wish to be a Tartar ?"
" Because/^ replied Barbara, who was as ignorant of
Cammeyer's slang joke as Cammeyer was of Barbara's his-
torical allusion "because, good sir, the King of Tartary's
daughter had a ring which, whenever she put it on her
finger, enabled her to understand the language of all birds
and the yirtues of all plants. I have often wished to wear
that ring.'*
Mr. Cammeyer now lighted a cigar. This was a great
curiosity to Barbara. She had never seen such a thing
before, nor had she eyer happened to hear her father men-
tion this adjunct of civilization. Had Barbara been a
young man, she might have taken to this fascinating vice
with graceful promptitude, and accepted the lieutenant's
jocose offer of one of the perfumed tempters ; but as he
accompanied this sham proposition with a statement that
such indulgences were not for the fair sex, she gazed with
bewilderment while he poured forth the curling smoke
from his Eoman and double-chimneyed nose.
" Now," said she, " since you have lighted a torch, I will
show you something to set fire to. Come this way."
She led him to a little boiling spring ; in other words,
to a spot where carburetted hydrogen escaped from the
earth ; and whenever the rain left the shallow excavation
full of water, the escaping gas, bubbling up through the
water, gave it the appearance of boiling.
" Put your hand into it," said she, with a merry twinkle
in her eyes.
" I do not wish to be scalded," he responded, cautiously.
" Then I shall put in mine."
Saying which, she rolled up the sleeve from her beautifu^
354 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
white arm^ and thrust that whole faultless piece of alabas-
ter into the bubbling flood.
" How can you bear so much heat ? *' asked Oammeyer,
thinking her a witch.
" 0, it is not hot. It only appears to be so. If I had
my father's thermometer here, I would ^how you that the
temperature is just the same as of any other pool of rain-
water. But I wiU set the water on fire. Please lend me
your torch.'*
Barbara took Cammeyer's cigar, and, applying the lighted
end to the boiling flood, set the volatile gas in a blaze,
which made the disturbed water appear to be burning with
a white, flickering, ghostly light.
The glowing face of the woman who wrought this
witchery smote Anthony Cammeyer with a spell of sorcery. '
Soon a puff of the sea-breeze blew out the fire, and
Barbara was about to lead her companion back to their
rocky seat, overlooking the Atlantic ^when Cammeyer,
who had trodden on something that seized his foot, gave a
start and cry.
" That is a scorpion," said Barbara, and she curiously
watched the vicious little thing in the grass.
" Am I bitten by a scorpion ? " cried Cammeyer.
" Then it is a mortal wound. I am a dead man ! "
He turned to a cowardly paleness, an5 a cold sweat
broke out on his brow.
"No," replied Barbara, quickly, "the little creature
has very ill manners, but he can do you no harm. My
fingers have been bitten a dozen times by just such a
snipper-snapper as that."
Cammeyer's scare was for nothing, and he felt a little
ashamed of his exhibition of cowardice in the presence of
his braver companion.
"You seem," he said to Barbara, '*to be afraid of
nothing.''
AN OUTSTRETCHED HAND. 355
" yes, I hate yampires. They come npon one nna-
wares and suck one's blood. I haye wakened in the morn-
ing and found that a yampire had left a blood-spot on my
ear sometimes on my arm."
" How startling ! " exclaimed Cammeyer. " Did ^he
creature not terrify you in the night ? "
" N"o, the yampire comes upon you gently while you are
fast asleep, and pricks you with a fine sharp point. My
mother, seyeral years ago, had some cambric needles on
the ship. I remember that their points were very fine.
But the yampire's tooth pricks a smaller hole than a cam-
bric needle could do. I hate these midnight assassins ! "
Cammeyer expressed his cordial assent to Barbara's
yiew of yampires ; which showed no small disinterested-
ness on his part, since he was something of a yampire
himself.
A light green snake, graceful and timid, now glided
past them, escaping out of their way.
Cammeyer again started.
" That," said Barbara, " is one of our pussy-cats. Haye
you a cat on your ship ? "
." Yes."
" 0, I wish you had brought it ashore with you. I am
so anxious to see a real cat. We found mice in the house,
and my father said that haying no cat for cats kill mice,
do they not ? we must have a mouser ; and so we took a
harmless green snake ^like the one that just passed. We
call our snakes our pussy-cats."
Barbara grew more and more fascinating to Cammeyer,
hour by hour ; and as he walked at her side, he hardly
noticed the parrots, the humming-birds, the ants, and the
centipedes ; which latter, had he condescended to scruti-
nize them, would haye giyen him eyen more loathsome
occasion to shudder than he found in the pnakes and scor-
pions. He was intent only on gazing at Barbara, who
- w
366 TBMPEST-TOSSBP.
flometimes seemed to him to be a beautiful wild siren
superior to humanity.
Comely to his eyes from the first, she swiftly grew be-
fore him into a piece of perfect splendor.
" 0, my dear friend I ^' exclaimed Barbara, " I have for-
gotten to show you one thing. Look yonder it is a little
broken boat that came ashore during the earthquake. I
planted it round about with flowers. Stand here see
they have almost hidden it out of sight. But I will push
aside the vines and show you the boat's name."
Barbara then uncovered the gilt letters of the n,ame
Good Hope.
"It is a man-of-war'sT)oat,"said Cammeyer after some
examination ; ^^ but I know of no vessel in the American
navy with such a name. As these are English islands,
some English cruiser was probably in this neighborhood
during the earthquake. The boat may have been washed
from the ship's deck and cast ashore."
Barbara, leaving the flowery boat and resuming her seat
among the rocks, looked into her companion's pleased eyes
and said,
"Mr. Cammeyer, I have neither sister nor brother.
Yes, I have a distant sister, whom I have never seen.
Lucy Wilmerding has always been to me like a sister.
You heard my father speaking of her yesterday did you
not ? "
" Yes," said Cammeyer, with an air of ignorance and
indifference.
" 0," exclaimed Barbara, " I wish that you^ Mr. Cam-
meyer, could have known Lucy Wilmerding I am sure
you would have loved her. What an unhappy fate is hers
to break her heart over a false lover ! Can men be so
despicable ? What a pity that my dear Lucy could not
have been the wife of a brave and noble man ^like your-
.-1^ I 9)
"i
A^ OUTSTRETCHED HAJsTD. 357
Cammeyer felt javelins piercing him in these words.
He quivered under them, but resolved to hide his wounds,
which he did with a self-mastery so complete that no trace
of his emotion appeared on his face, save a little pallor.
. "Lucy shall be my sister, *' continued Barbara, "and
you shall be my brother ^will you not ? Then I shall
have both brother and sister. Why do you frown ? ''
" I cannot be your brother," said Cammeyer, trying to
smile, *^but I can be something more. Will you permit
me to say wfe,t ? "
" I do not understand you," she replied.
^^ There is a good reason why I cannot be your brother."
" What is it ? " she asked.
" It is because," said he, "I wish to be your husband."
Barbara^s heart heaved with sudden tumult. Her face
reddened to a flame. Her eyes glittered like stars.
" Husband ?" she exclaimed, as if asking herself whether
she had heard the strange word correctly.
The astonished maiden was in a novel situation. She
had received for the first time an offer of marriage. No
wonder she was bewildered. But her mingled surprise
and alarm were not due to her kindly interest in the young
man she stood before an interest merely friendly, and
nothing moje. Her agitation was all centered in one par-
ticular word which had fallen from his lips.
This was the word, "husl)and."
It was the word itself, and not the man who uttered it,
that so strongly shook Barbara's mind.
The cool-headed Cammeyer, who felt flattered by the
otvious emotion which his proposition had occasioned in
Barbara's breast; little suspected that this sudden pricking
of her heart was due, not to the archer, but to the arrow.
The heart uses a more swift and fiery logic than the
head. Barbara, having made the discovery through
Anthony Cammeyer that a man who admires a woman mf
368 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
want to be her husband, immediately leaped to the con-
clusion that Philip Chantilly might also be actuated by
the same desire. But she was puzzled to understand
why Philip, who had passionately declared to her his love,
had not asked her to be his wife ; while, on the other
hand, Cammeyer, who had not spoken to her a word of
love, had proposed to be her husband,
Barbara's native instinct was that love should be only
for marriage, and marriage only for love.
One golden thought, however, had now tifeen struck in
the mint of Barbara's mind a thought which, like a
guinea, was stamped on two different sides ; each impres-
sion being counterpart to the other, and both necessary to
the perfect coin : one was, that possibly Philip would de-
sire to be her husband ; and the other its golden oppo-
site ^that haply she was destined to become Philip's wife.
Under the present and blissful burden of this fancied
future, Barbara, hiding her holy secret within her happy
heart, and shrinking from a rude exposure of it to a
stranger's eye, hastily rose and said,
"Good sir, I must now go."
Saying which she sped away with stately haste from her
bewildered companion ; who, as he watched her retreating
form as she disappeared among the trees, little dreamed
that on reaching the house she stole straightway to her
chamber, and sinking on her knees before the ancient
crucifix on the wall, invoked the grace of Heaven on the
head of Philip Chantilly.
.. J
CHAPTER XXIV.
REVOLT.
AFTEE Barbara ended her passionate prayer for Philip
- (in which her devotions were probably not according
to any known rubric or ritual) she rose from her knees,
turned away from the prie-Dieu, and stepped in front of
a looking-glass.
Barbara's glance at the mirror on this occasion was not
to see Narcissa, but herself. Her desire to appear well in
Philip's eyes was the same emotion that has blushingly
enkindled many a pure woman's cheeks, and modestly
prompted her to array herself with chaste beauty to meet the
lord of her heart and fate. One swift glance by Barbara,
first at her face and then at her dress, reminded her that
though she could not heighten the comeliness of the one,
she knew where to borrow a queenly richness for the other.
This supplement to Nature's loveliness lay packed in
, lavender in a chest, and had once been a bride's wedding-
gown ^part of the wardrobe left on board the Coromandel
by Mrs. Atwill.
Barbara, who on the ship had kept this chest in her
state-room, and who in the Hermitage kept it in her cham-
ber, now lifted the lid took out the white silk robe
shook out its folds swept her hand over the lustrous
fabric to make it rustle ^held it up, first on one arm, then
on the other unclad herself of the gown she. was wearing
put on this cream-white array ^bejeweled herself with a
859
360 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
necklace of pearls unbound her hair till it fell about her
shoulders shod her feet in white silk slippers clasped
her bracelets on her naked arms and, having thus arrayed
herself, went to submit her loveliness to the approving glass,
"I wonder/' thought she, "whether Philip admires
white silk."
Going to her jewel-box, she took out Philip's letter
which she kept therein as her chief jewel kissed the en-
velope kissed the seal kissed the paper and then read
the contents from beginning to end, in a low, soft voice,
as if murmuring some immortal music to her mortal ears.
" Oh what a letter ! '' she whispered. "What wonderful
words it contains ! ^ Your true lover, Philip Chantilly ! ' ''
And she kept repeating the closing phrase. "Philip calls
himself my true lover. What can I give my true lover in
return ? Time lovers should have true love. Philip, I
give you my true love.''
Barbara then forgot her glowing image in the glass, and
became absorbed in the contemplation of another image
more pleasing to her mind the figure of the young sailor
of the Tamaqua ^the hero of her true love,, of her pure
heart, of her whole soul.
Her thoughts rose to such a rapture that she paced up
and down her little apartment, like an untamed leopard in
a cage ; she shivered and burned ; she wept and laughed ;
she caught up her one and only love-letter, and pressed it
to her lips which was an act of grace such as she had
not yet bestowed on her one and only lover ; she sighed
yet not with grief ; she put her hand against her breast as
if trying to steady her beating heart ; and she exclaimed,
" How often have I put on this dress to please my father
in our solitude ! How often have I danced in these slip-
pers on the floor of the Coromandel's cabin at my mock-
wedding ! How often have I worn this necklace as if it
were a bridal ornament ! "
REVOLT. 361
No sooner had these whispered words escaped her lips
than she once more pressed her hand against her bosom,
and said in a low moan,
"0 hush, foolish heart of mine ^giddy with yain hope !
It cannot be. Do you not know that Philip may choose
among a thousand ^yes, among ten thousand of the chief
ladies of all the world ? Will he then come back again into
the wilderness to choose yotif^^
Barbara answered her question doubtfully,
" Yes ^no no ^yes.*'
But her doubts were only of a moment's space, for
^^ perfect lore caste th out fear."
Barbara rallied her shaken heart, and exclaimed,
" Did he not write it with his own hand ? * Your true
lover, Philip Chantilly V Philip, Philip !"
The excited girl turned again to the glass, and catching
sight of her white hand, which Philip had kissed, she
kissed it on the same spot as if some touch of Philip's
lips still remained there.
The real woman who gave this kiss, seeing her image
doing the same thing in the glass, addressed her twin self,
and said,
'^ 0, Narcissa, look at me now 1 Speak to me, darling,
as of old. Speak to me of Philip ! Speak to me and say,
' thou blessed among women ! ' Speak to me and tell
me, * My beloved is mine, and I am his *I ' Philip !
God ! "
The tumult in her breast overcame her ; she felt a sud-
den dizziness ; and she sat down between the guardian
griffins of her antique chair.
Mr. Cammeyer, meanwhile, had slowly followed the
swift-flying Barbara to the house ; and as he already had
noticed Mrs. Vail's marked courtesy towards him ; and as
a young man who courts a daughter finds it worth while
36J2 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
to be reinforced by her mother, he made a prompt and
bold statement to Mrs. Vail of his proposition to Barbara.
In doing this, he distorted the case, and left a false im-
pression on Mrs. Vail.
^'In short," said he, in concluding his adroit remarks^
'^I asked for your daughter in marriage, and thongh she
received my offer in a somewhat unconventional way, I
have reason to suppose that she accepted it, and I have
done myself the honor to be the first to inform you of it.'*
On hearing this intelligence, Mrs. Vail was filled with
consternation and grief.
Anthony Cammeyer was no favorite with Barbara's
mother. How then, she wondered, could he have become
in so short a time a favorite with Barbara herself ? Above
all, how could the darling child have so swiftly given her
heai't to a total stranger ^a man, too, not to be compared
with Philip Chantilly ?
With motherly aggressiveness, Mrs. Vail instantly re-
solved to interfere between her daughter and this new-
comef.
Bousing her invalid strength to make an appropriate
reply to Lieut. Cammeyer, she addressed him thus :
" I am so surprised so bewildered and (I cannot help
confessing) so grieved at what you have told me from Bar-
bara who ought herself to have been the first to announce
it ^tliat my heart almost refuses to speak. That girl
from her babyhood down to these last few days has seen
no other man than her father. The sudden arrival of
strangers among us has been exciting and bewildering even
to her father and me how much more so to her ! She is
an impulsive creature rushing hither and thither like the
wind. If she has suddenly poured out upon you her sym-
pathy and love, she may follow it with her disappointment,
her vexation, yes even her scorn and hate. She is a law unto
"herself, and Avill be loth to receive her law from another.
REVOLT. 363
Of the submissions which women are supposed to make in
wedlock of the subordinate rank which they are expected
to hold of all this, Barbara as yet knows nothing. Con-
sider how liable such a girl's feelings are to be mistaken
to be misdirected. You take an undue advantage of her
isolation and ignorance. I would ratlier that our old ship
had never brought us to the shore than that Barbara, in
her first misstepping on the land, should stumble into
a false marriage. If she loves you truly, nothing will
sever her from you ; and her love .will not grow less, but
more, by waiting and feeding itself on hope and trust.
On the other hand, if she does not yet know her heart, you
will harm both yourself and her by pressing this suit any
further, just now. Mr. Cammeyer, I beg you not to say
another word to my daughter on this subject until I can
confer with her father and herself-^not a word until I give
you my consent to speak not even if you have to wait sev-
eral days, or even longer. Will you promise me this ? "
Mr. Cammeyer, not dissatisfied with Mrs. Vail's argu-
ment ^which, to him, seemed on the whole to tell in his
favor ^gave his promise on the spot ; and, noticing her
excitement and weariness, withdrew from her presence.
Barbara, in the next room, had overheard the rumbling
voices of the two talkers, but did not catch the drift of
their conversation.
Lieut. Cammeyer, on leaving the house, walked with
elastic and conquering step toward the Coromandel ^hailed
Bobson and Carter stepped into the ferry-basket was
drawn by them to the ship sat in a willow-chair on deck
lighted a fresh cigar and plunged into a profound medi-
tation.
Among the mystic laws of human nature, which follow
like Nemesis in the track of human conduct, is one which
ordains that no man's mind, however excited with present
interest or engrossed with prospective ambition, can at any
364 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
moment be safe against the inopportune and awful intru-
sion of the dead, of the absent, or of the wronged.
Lucy Wilmerding, like a phantom, now confronted An-
thony Cammeyer, and accompanied him in all his thoughts
of Barbara Vail.
It is not to be supposed that Anthony Cammeyer still
loved Lucy Wilmerding ; for, properly speaking, he had
not loved her at first, and he loved her now less than ever.
Whatever pleased interest he may have had in her during
the early days when ha inwreathed her name into his vis-
ions of future advancement in the world, his feeling was
not true love. Its shallow depth had no right to that deep
name. Little love is none at all. No man loves a woman
truly if he loves her less than he loves himself, or less than
he loves any other person or thing in the world.
But Lieut. Cammeyer though he had never truly loved
Lucy Wilmerding had not become so wholly callous to
the reproaches of his conscience, as not to have groaned
in spirit many times at the injury which he had inflicted
on this noble woman. He knew well enough that the blow
'which he gave her had broken her heart that it was a mur-
der which he had committed upon her, most murderous in
that its victim, though slain, could not die, but must
endure a living death.
Cammeyer knew also that for this dastardliness on his
part he had suffered a long, slow punishment, which Nature
had wrought out within him in her subtlest way ; a punish-
ment now made awfully complete ; for he was distinctly
conscious that, in spite of all his admiration for Barbara,
and of the fascinating spell which she had wrought upon
him, and of the offer of marriage which he had made to
her ^he was, nevertheless, not in love with her ; and this
fact showed him that one of the elemental functions of
a human being, the power to love, if he had ever possessed
it, had been at last obliterated from his composition.
* _ .
EEVOLT. 365
^^ If I cannot love sucli a woman as Barbara Y^il," said
he, " then I can never love any one."
He was right.: the fire was extinct within him ^the gift
was withdrawn ^the fountain of this most human and
most divine of all feelings was dried in his breast forever.
If, in the rude clash of carnal powers, it is a truth of
histoiy that they that take the sword shall perish by
the sword, it is still more awfuUy true that, in the jamng
collision of human souls, whoso destroys another's love
and heart and Jife shall suffer the destruction of his own.
This is an awful retribution, but Cammeyer knew, not
only that it had been inflicted upon him, but that he
merited the penalty.
A cold anger, like the chill of rain, passed through his
blood against Barbara for her unconscious agency in reveal-
ing to him the searing and blasting of his nature the
final sentence of his fate.
But his prolonged meditations did not lead him to
change, but only to intensify, his determination to woo and
win Barbara ; for he thought that in so doing he might
possibly, after all, find his way back toward his former
and lost self. If not too late, he hoped yet to renew the
freshness of his youth to be once again at peace with his
tempest-tossed breast. Otherwise he knew himself a lost
soul, condemned to ^^ the blackness of darkness forever.''
Meanwhile, Dr. Vail, who had left the Coromandel
shortly before Cammeyer came on board, returned to the
house.
*^ Eodney, Eodney," exclaimed his wife to him, ^* I
am sick at heart. Mr. Cammeyer has made to Barbara a
proposition of marriage, and she has rashly accepted it."
Dr. Vail stood transfixed.
A tempest gathered on his brow. The lion which
sleeps in every strong nature (like Thorwaldsen's statue cut
in the rock) was roused within him. No eagle, glaring at
806 TEHPEST-TOSSED.
the fiery gun, ever showed more piercing ey(?8 than Rod-
ney's at that moment.
^^ Impossible !" he elclaimed^ in a white heat. "By
heaven, no ! I forbid it. Never, never, never shall Bar-
bara marry that man ! "
He clenclied his hands ; he walked up and down the
small room in great agitation ; the floor shook under his
feet ; his wife turned pale at the sight of his rage ; and in
the midst of this exciting scene, which wrought the father
to frenzy and the mother to prostration, Barbara herself
suddenly opened her door and stepped forth in her bridal
dress !
She stood before her father like an apparition.
They met, face to face, mute as statues, and looked at
each other, eye to eye.
Every word of Dr. Vail's loud and violent speech had
been overheard by Barbara, yet she had not heard any
mention of Cammeyer's name. What she heard, instead
of a name, was her father's invective against an absent
person, contemptuously described as "that man." With
Dr. Vail and Mary, "that man" was Anthony Cammeyer.
With Barbara, it was Philip.
Such and so great are the misunderstandings that arise
between those who are nearest to each other, and who
ought never to misunderstand each other at all !
There was something aAvful in Barbara's agony at this
moment. She was white and ghastly, as if her cheeks
had caught their color from her veil. Her lips were blood-
less. She looked like one against whom all the world had
turned, and who in despair suddenly resolved to fight
perhaps to die.
The case was a simple one, as it appeared to Barbara's
pure and innocent mind. She loved Philip. She loved
him truly, wholly, absolutely. She loved him without
'^rve, without fear. She had not intended that this
REVOLT. 367
loye ^now that it was requited should be kept secret
from her parents ; but thus far there had been no conven-
ient opportunity for her to make to them a disclosure.
Moreover, Philip was absent, nor liad he yet asked of
her the same question which another had put ; and cer-
tainly it was hardly time for her to speak until he had
spoken.
Dr. Vail, standing before his daughter, gazed at her
half in love, half in anger, and wholly in grief.
Barbara felt that Philip had been unjustly and ignoniin-
iously treated by her father ; that Philip, the son of her
father's best friend Philip, their long seeker and final
discoverer Philip, the noble prince and hero Philip, the
master of her heart ; Barbara felt that this paragon of men
had been scornfully denounced by her father as *^that
man." Her father had called heaven to witness that she
should never marry *^that man." The loving maiden,
" Vested all in white, pure as her mind,
})
bled under her veil from the wound so suddenly struck at
'Hhat man." So Barbara, with love's loyalty, resolved to
take the fate, whatever it might be, which was now in
store for ^^that man."
It is idle to argue about filial duty. This is a beautiful
gauze which fond parents weave about their children,
thinking it to be some charmed armor of protection, like
Great-heart's shield in the allegory ; but it is neither a
shield nor a coat of mail ; it is not a. defence at all ; it is a
mere filmy veil a vapor an exhalation ; it is consumed,
blown away at the breath of one sweet and glowing word
spoken by the stranger of yesterday who becomes the lover
of to-day. Vain is it for the mother to bind her daughter
to imprisonment at home in chambers
* Silken, chill, and chaste.*'
368 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
Vain is it for the father to spend his toil, his thougiil,
his life, for the sake of one fair girl, who, like a bird,
hearing a cooing-call afar oflE a singer in another sky
flies away at the summons, and foreyer abandons the
parental nest.
This is Nature's absolute fiat which fathers and moth-
ers may tremble at, but which they cannot resist.
"I haye heard all you said," remarked Barbara, sadly ;
'^I was not eayes-dropping, but when it thunders, one
cannot help haying ears."
"Barbara," said her father, "haye you come in this
attire to inyite me to a wedding ? "
"No," she replied, "I am not going to a wedding."
" Why, then," asked he, with a frown, " why are you in
such haste to put on a semblance of marriage ? '*
" It was you," she replied, " who taught me to wear this
dress. For your pleasure, many times I haye put it on.
At your command, I can take it off. Shall I do so ? "
Barbara's yoice grew tender, for she saw that her father
was now in tears.
"0 Barbara, my daughter," he exclaimed, melted still
further at the sound of her yoice, "you haye neyer
giyen me a pang till to-day I But your willingness to
desert your mother aiid me, and to unite yourself in
such haste to a stranger of whom you know nothing
my daughter I my daughter ! this is so rash, so unwise,
so unaccountable, so dreadful, that it pierces me to the
heart."
He then caught up her hand in his, as be was wont to
do held it patted it and at last kissed it.
In doing this, he espied on her finger, for the first time,
an unfamiliar ring.
He flung down her hand yiolently, and exclaimed,
" What is this ? "
'+ is a wedding ring," she replied meekly.
J
i TJ
REVOLT. 369
Dr. Vail instantly conjectured that it was a liasty and
crafty gift from Cammeyer.
" Barbara ! '* he exclaimed, with rekindled indignation,
" this is blasphemy ! Take that ring off I Obey me I
This is mad haste this is unmaidenly behayior. The
sight of this ring will be a shock to Capt. Chantilly ; I
will spare him an unnecessary pang."
" 0," replied. Barbara, appealing to her mother, and
showing a new phase in her agitation. ^' What have I
done ? This innocent ring why should it offend ? Let
me think ! Yes, it was Capt. Chantilly's gift to Philip's
mother. She is dead. Her bereaved husband, seeing me
wear it, might be reminded of her death. I never thought
of that. I will take it off at once."
She took off the ring.
^^ Rosa's wedding-ring ?" inquired Mary, with profound
cariosity. -
^^ Yes," said Barbara, ^^look at the inscription ;" and
she handed the ring to her mother, who, on holding it up,
saw on the inner golden circle these engraved letters :
0. (7. and B, (7., Jan. 12, 1840.
*^ How came this ring on your finger ? " asked Dr. Vail,
^whose anger was all gone.
"I put it there myself/' replied Barbara, calmly.
^' How came it in your possession ? "
Barbara knew not how to account for the sudden change
in her father's manner.
^' It was a gift to me," she replied, and tears welled into
her eyes at the confession.
"From whom?"
Then a proud heat, not unaccompanied with anger,
shot its fire through Barbara's blood ; and, remembering
her father's unjust and unaccountable assault on Philip,
she answered, with a flash of resentment,
370 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
" It was giyen to me by that man,''
" Who ? Lieut. Cammeyer ?"
"No, Philip Chantilly."
All the remaining clouds broke away in a moment^ and
sunshine gilded each wintry face into a midsummer glow.
" Barbara," said her father, '^I was present at that wed-
ding. So was your mother ^long before she became my
wife. We saw the bridegroom put this ring on the bride's
finger. Do you say that Bosa's son made a gift of it to
you ? "
"Yes."
" When and how ? "
"He sent it to me from the Tamaqua, accompanied
with a letter."
" May I see the letter ? "
Barbara gave her father a proud and penetrating look,
and stood before him with a dignity beyond her years,-^
as if some strange tincture had been incorporated into her
blood, conveying with it the courage and wisdom of ma-
turer life.
" I will show you the letter on condition," said she,
"that you will promise to love and honor the writier."
" Barbara," responded Dr. Vail, catching her in his
arms, "I accept the terms ;" and her father was more
glad at that moment to surrender to his daughter than
to have conquered a king.
Barbara then, with joy unutterable, and in the midst of
blushes that suffused her cheeks like the rosy streaks of
morning across a clear sky, went to her chamber, and
returned to her parents with her letter from Philip.
"Barbara," inquired her father, after he and Mary had
perused it together, while tears were in Mary's eyes ^
which her daughter was quick to see and to bless as a good
omen " Barbara, what did you say to Lieut. Cammeyer
about marriage ? "
BEVOLT. 371
'^Nothing."
"What do you mean to say to him about it ? "
"Nothing/'
" What does he expect you to say to him about it ? *'
"Nothing."
"But your mother informed me that Cammeyer had
asked you in marriage^ and that you had accepted his
proposal."
The maiden stood in mute bewilderment. Lieut. Cam-
meyer was now revealed to her as having borne false wit-
ness against her to her mother. Barbara, who seldom
resisted any impulse of her heart, already fulfilled the
prophecy which her mother made to Cammeyer, and was
entertaining for that gentleman, not love for love, but
scorn for hypocrisy.
It is not a little singular, and yet perhaps will be ex-
plained by some future canon of that perfected mental
philosophy for which the world waits, how the souls both
of friends and foes seem to take cognizance of each other
at a distance and to engender mutual likes and dislikes at
the. same moment.
" My dear father," said Barbara, who was determined,
both for Philip's sake and her own, to make her position
still more clear, " I was talking with Lieut. Cammeyer,
He described his travels the war ^the great ships. I
was a 'hungry listener, having starved so long. I felt
grateful for such a companion especially in Philip's ab-
sence. I thought of Viola in the Twelfth Night, and
how she said,
' I am all the daughters of my father's house,
And all the brothers too.'
So I told Mr. Cammeyer that, having no sisters or broth-
ers, I had made Lucy Wilmerding my sister, and I asked
would he be my brother ? He then, to my astonishment.
372
TEMPEST-TOSSEDr
offered to be my husband. I made him no answer, but
left his presence. Mr. Cammeyer has done me a wrong
you a wrong and " She was about to add '^ Philip
a wrong ; " but her blushing face spoke her meaning better
than her lips could have done.
"Barbara/' said her father, who was now the most
pleased of men, so that he heaved a mock sigh of pre-
tended misery, " I have just discovered the fearful sacri-
fice which I must make in order to regain the lost world :
I must pay Jephtha's price for it."
CHAPTER XXV.
EMBARKATIOI^.
EAELY the next morning, at Oapt. Chantilly^s sug-
gestion, preparations were made for removing the
household articles from the Hermitage to the Coromandel,
so that the ship might he ready, on Philip's arrival, to be
towed to Barbados.
"We shall be in Barbados to-night,^' remarked Capt.
Chantilly.
" joy ! " exclaimed Barbara. *^ That will be, to me,
my first entrance into the civilized world."
Her eyes sparkled with delight ; her cheeks grew flushed ;
her form seemed as full of life as if she were about to run
a race. There was such a fresh, original, unconventional
air about her, that the captain ^perhaps with a thought
for Philip said to himself,
" She is the most magnificent creature I ever saw."
"Why did not Philip," she asked, "come yesterday?
The wind abated. Indeed there was no tempest at all."
"I don't know why he did not come," replied his
father, "but Philip always acts with judgment ; and he
must have had some good reason, which we shall know in
due time. One thing I know already he did not stay
away through any loathing to return."
Much as Barbara wanted to see the world, she did not
want to see it half so much as to see Philip. Indeed, if
she could have chosen between going back again for year^
373
374 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
on the ocean with Philip for her companion, and going
into the crowded world without his companionship, she
would have chosen Philip and given up the world.
Barbara had already found that, judged by the final
test, the chief thing in life is love.
The transfer of the few household gods and goods to the
ship was quickly made, for Capt. Chantilly ordered Lieut.
Cammeyer to bring Eobson and Carter to the scene, who,
with brawny arms and Atlantean shoulders, carried the
chests, boxes, beds, books and everything else so swiftly
down, that in three hours, or long before noon, the re-
moval was successfully accomplished.
'^Mother," said Barbara, looking at the stained-glass
windows, " I am thinking of what Eve said,
" 'And must I leave thee, Paradise ?'
0, how much more highly favored are we, who, instead of
leaving Paradise, are about to enter it ! And yet," she
added, '^ when we came to this place I thought it a Para-
dise. Since that time, it has brought us the greatest hap-
piness of our lives. So why should we not think our little
island now more a Paradise than ever ? 0, I wonder if
the whole world will thus go on from gloiy to glory 1 ''
Lieut. Cammeyer passed an uncomfortable morning.
Very little was said to him by anybody. He noticed the
general reticence.
*^ Something is wrong," thought he. " The bird almost
hopped into my net yesterday. What baleful influence
has interfered between her and me since then ? It is not
Philip Chantilly, for he has not arrived. What, then,
can it be ? "
At that moment Dr. Vail and Oliver went by him
talking earnestly, unaware of his presence. He could not
" ^ theme of their discourse. All he heard was a
EKBAEKATIOK. 375
few detached vords, together with a eingle complete
phrase, spoken with declamatory londnese,
" What a scoundrel !"
These words were uttered by Capt, Chantilly. The talk
had been concerning Lucy Wilmerding particularly con-
c-erning the baseness of the man who sought to marry her
fji- her father's wealth, yet wlio, when she seemed no
longer likely to inherit it, deserted her and broke her
heart. Bat neither Capt. Chantilly nor Dr. Vail knew or
imagined that Lieut. Cammeyer waa this destroyer of a
woman's peace. Little did they dream tliat they were
discussing tlie conduct of a man wlio, at that moment,
stood behind a cocoa-tree, within three paces of tliem.
" I heard the name of Lawrence Wilmerding," said
Cammeyer to himself. " Then they must know about
my affair with Lucy. How the devil could they liave
heard ? But do they dare borate me as a scoundrel witliin
hearing of my own ears ? I will pay them for this
audacity."
Lieut, Cammeyer began from that moment to play a
cunning part : the part of a devoted and obliging friend
to all the family, particularly to Barbara. He was omni-
present as an assistant here with a rope, there with a
strap here with a hammer and nails, there with a hoop
or band.
But the more officious he grew, the more unresponsive
they. At least so it seemed to him. But with all his
acnteness, he misinterpreted their mood.
They never suspected that they were offering him a
slight. The islanders, grateful for tlieir rescue, would
not for a bag of gold have shown any unkindness even j
toward the meanest of their i-escuerg. ^Irr^, Vail :md J
Barbara were so absorbed in the great oliiiiigojBUifi oni
around them, and at the gi-eater change goir
them, a change of residence and of destiny
376 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
were lost in this inward activity of mind. " The. greatest
joys*' said Talleyrand '^ are silent."
Barbara was of too generous a nature to harbor in her
white bosom any dark malice toward a human creature ;.
and though Cammeyer's misrepresentation of her to her
father and mother had given her an hour of agony, yet on
reflection she could not so greatly blame Cammeyer for
misunderstanding her as she blamed herself for being mis-
understood. Moreover it is not in the heart of -any woman
to bear unkindness toward a man whose chief offence
against her consists in his offering to marry her.
Barbara was waiting for a good opportunity to say
something very decisive to Cammeyer, but she meant to
say it with dignity and kindliness.
This opportunity soon came, for Cammeyer himself was
quick to invoke it.
^^I am not pressing you for an answer, Miss Barbara,*'
said he.
^^Mr. Cammeyer, an answer to what ? "
*^I refer. Miss Barbara, to the question which I ad-
dressed to you yesterday under the cocoa-nut trees."
^^Mr. Cammeyer, you asked me if the boiling-spring
burned me, and I answered no. You asked me if I was
afraid of serpents, and I answered no. You asked me
several other questions, to all which I answered yes or no.
You then asked me a grave question which I did not answer
at all. I think you know what it is I will not mention it.
But I have a request to make concerning it ; I request
that you will never again speak to me on that subject."
*^My dear Miss Barbara, have you heard anything
about me that has displeased you ? "
" Yes, good sir," said Barbara, with charming frank-
ness ; for she thought his misrepresentation a sufficient
cause for her displeasure; '^but I should not have told
^d you not asked me."
EMBAEKATIOIS". 377
Cammeyer pondered.
'^ They must have told her/' thought he, *^that I de-
serted Lucy Wilmerding ; ^yes, they have told her that I
am a scoundrel."
With that quick logic by which guilty minds persuade
themselves that all the world perceives their perfidy and
stands ready to punish it, Cammeyer felt that he was a
disgraced man in the eyes not only of Barbara but of Mrs.
Vail, Rodney, the captain, the ship's crew, and all man-
kind. Proud and arrogant by nature, he was stung to the
quick roused Hot to shame and repentance, but to resent-
ment and revenge.
^* I will deal blow for blow," he muttered, grinding his
teeth ; "yes, I will have both my vengeance and my prize
I will punish the men and capture the maid ; I will
possess the estate besides. Scoundrel ! that's a hard
word. So much the better it will have the more mo-
mentum for flinging it back. I will swing it over them
like a bludgeon ! "
Cammeyer was one of those cool and gentlemanly vil-
lains who hide their inward passion by outward calm,
and who, when occasion requires, are competent to be
the most consummate of knaves. But although he was*
too intelligent not to know that he was a man with a
convenient absence of a moral sense, and was thereby
fitted to execute a high order of treachery, he would
neveitheless have been shocked at the contemplation
of himself as other than a man who refused to be
wicked except in an extreme case, for which a general
tenor of good behavior, before and after, would amply
atone.
A thick, cool sea-fog had hung over the island all the
morning, and Capt. Chantilly had several times attempted
to look through it with his glass in hope of seeing Phih*
878 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
anchored somewhere off the coasts waiting to find his way
to the cove.
At length the wind freshened a little^ partially thinning
away the mists and yapors, so that the dim form of a vessel
was discovered in the distance.
^' Philip has chosen a wrong anchorage," said his father,
^^ but when the fog lifts, his anchor will lift with it, and
he will hasten hither."
Lieut. Cammeyer volunteered to go in the boat with
Bobson and Carter, and to pilot the ship.
" Yes, go and laugh at Philip for losing%is reckoning,"
said the captain. ^^My dear Miss Barbara," he added,
whispering in her ear, ^Hhere is sometliing that makes
young men blind ; do you know wha't it is ? It is sung of
in ditties, and it rhymes with dove."
^^Then it must be a sweet song," said she.
Cammeyer, in proposing to go in the boat, was not dis-
interested, for though not desirous to assist Philip in find-
ing his way back to the island and to Barbara, yet he sought
a good excuse to get away from the company awhile, in or-
der to plot his revenge.
*^ Boys, pull me out to that ship," said Cammeyer, light-
ing a cigar.
It was a longer pull than they expected. Fogs magnify
and delude. The rowers pulled and strained on the rolling
sea for two hours, and still the dim ship appeared as far off
as ever. They then found themselves plunging into a still
denser mist. The situation was risky. Cammeyer felt per-
plexed. To go back was dangerous, for the fog had shut
out the island behind him, just as it had shut out the ship
before him.
It was now easy for Cammeyer to understand why Philip
had mistaken the island.
Shortly afterward, a sound of merriment from ^ chorus
of voices came through the mist.
EMBARKATIOlir. 379
'* That's one o' Tom Jackson's yams," said Bobson^ " and
the men are laughing at it."
The ship loomed up ahead of them, and they were just
under her stem so near that they could hear the flapping
of her flag.
*^ Ship ahoy I " cried Oammeyer.
''"Boat ahoy ! " was the response.
Cammeyer ascended to the deck, while the two men re-
mained in the boat. He was met at the gangway by a
stranger whose uniform bespoke him an officer in the Con-
federate service. A second glance showed him that the
ship's flag was not the stars and stripes but the stars and
bars. He had boarded an enemy's man-of-war.
This was a capital blunder ; and he bit liis lip with yex-
ation.
" What ship is this ? " he asked^ with diplomatic gravity.
" The Good Hope, sir."
'' What commander ? "
" Captain Lane."
Cammeyer was caught in a trap.
His uniform had already betrayed him, and it was too
late for his ingenious mind to devise a stratagem for es-
cape.
" You are my prisoner, sir," said the courteous midship-
man who had greeted him, " we take blue cloth wherever
we find it ; we shall be happy to take all you can bring us
of the same pattern."
Sobson and Carter were then ordered up on deck, and,
greatly to their astonishment, were immediately put in
irons.
" I would like to see the captain," demanded Cammeyer.
'^ You shall have that pleasure," responded his captor
" which I am sure will be mutual. Do me the honor to
follow me into the captain's cabin."
The commander who greeted Cammeyer was Capt. Lane,
380 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
formerly of the Coromandel and now of the Confederate
Na7 ; but altliough Cammeyer once knew that the former
captain of the Coromandel was a man named Lane^ yet be
had so long dropped this fact from his current thoughts,
that it had faded from his memory.
The greeting between the two strangers was not cordial
but polite.
After some mutual and commonplace inquiries, Cam-
meyer touched the pith of the matter, and with dignified
emphasis remarked,
*'I respectfully protest, sir, against this capture. These
are British islands. You are trespassing on the neutrality
of the British flag."
This was a valid argument, and Capt. Lane knew it.
*'I shall do myself the honor,''' said he, "to hold you
and your men, not as prisoners of war, but as police arrests.
You have come as spies ^Aa^ gives me a right to treat you
as thieves. Besides, this island is uninhabited. I know
these Grenadines well ; I came near running ashore on one
of them three months ago during an earthquake. As it
was, I lost the ship's pinnace. I have stopped here many
a time to fill my water-casks. And I know, sir, that for
me no law prevails here except such as I choose to make
for myself. You are a sailor what is your ship ? "
" The Union gunboat Tamaqua."
" Who commands her ? "
" Captain Chantilly."
" Chantilly ! I once knew a man of that name. He
was a Yankee in South Africa. Damn him, I owe him a
grudge. His very name makes me angry."
"It is the same man," responded Cammeyer, who in-
stantly felt disposed to make friends with an enemy of
Capt. Chantilly.
"What I Oliver Chantilly of Cape Town ? "
" Yes, the Very same."
EMBABKATION. 381
Capt. Lane was seized with a double passion of anger and
fear.
" Where is the Tamaqua now ?*' he demanded.
'' I don't know/'
" Don't trifle with me, sir, or I may loosen your tongue
with a hot iron."
Capt. Lane, who, years before, had been something of a
coward, was now something of a bully ; two characters
that frequently exist in the same person.
^^ I mistook yaur ship, sir, for the Tamaqua."
^^ Explain yourself," demanded Lane.
" On Tuesday last," replied Cammeyer, ^^ I ^as one of a
party who left the Tamaqua to make a boat reconnoissance
of the next island yonder. (I say yonder, for it is there,
though you cannot see it through the fog.) The vessel
proved to be an old wreck a ship that was struck by
lightning at sea, seventeen years ago and that drifted
about, disabled and helpless, with a handful of people on
board, till at last they went ashore about four months since
on one of the Grenadines, We found the old hulk still
afloat, and what is more the company still alive. The
Tamaqua is hourly expected to touch at the island in
order to carry them away to Barbados. So I very naturally
mistook your ship, sir, for the Tamaqua."
'^ What was the name of the wreck ? "
'' The Coromandel."
Lane started to his feet.
" That's not possible ! " he exclaimed.
"Yes, sir, as I said before, a strange story, but true."
Lane's agitation was peculiar. It was made up of glad-
ness, regret, chagrin and wrath. He exhibited a behavior
that was unaccountable to Cammeyer.
" The Coromandel, did you say ? " asked Lane, who tore
off a sliver of white margin from a newspaper, and with a
swift ferocity kept re-tearing it into infinitesimal bits.
382 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
'^ Yqs, sir, the Coromandel. She is a strange-looking
old hulk green-whiskered with long sea-grass. She was
built originally for the Arctic Sea and made stronger than
the Tower of Babel."
'' The Coromandel 1 '* ejaculated Lane, repeating the
word over and oyer again ; alternately looking down at the
bits of paper that he was littering the floor with, and up
at Cammeyer's face to detect some evidence of a falsehood.
^^ no," he continued, suddenly bursting into a loud laugh,
like the enforced merriment of one who hears a ghost story,
which he partly believes and wholly fears. "No, sir, not
the Coromandel ! Nonsense, no ! "
Cammeyer, who was still puzzled by Lane's agitation,
again assured him that he had made a true report of the
old ship.
"Give me," cried Lane, '^the name of one of the pas-
sengers."
" Dr. Eodney Vail," responded Cammeyer.
" Another."
*^ Mary Vail ^his wife."
'^Another."
" Barbara Vail a daughter, bom on board."
" Any more ? "
" A negress Mrs. Vail's nurse, named Jezebel."
'' Is that all ? "
'* All but one, a dog called Beaver."
*' Great God ! " exclaimed Lane, throwing down a mimic
snow-storm of bits of paper out of his hand. *^ / was cap-
tain of the Coromandel on the very voyage when she was
wrecked. That was my dog. All true^ all true 1 " And
he flung himself in his chair in profound astonishment and
apparent dejection.
" Facts are stranger than fiction I " thought Cammeyer,
marveling that he should have encountered the former cap-
tain of the Coromandel.
EMBAKKATIOK. 383
" But, sir,^* cried Lane, leaping again to his feet, *' be-
fore I believe this miracle, I must see it with my own eyes/*
'* You will find it exactly as I have stated,*' retorted
Cammeyer.
These disclosures put Lane into an entirely altered mood
toward Cammeyer. It made him look upon his prisoner
as a man whom he would like to turn from an enemy into
a friend. Lane felt that his reputation would be ruined
forever by the reappearance of the Coromandel, to whose
sinking he had sworn an oath. He suffered all a cowaixi's
anguish at the prospective revival of the condemnation
which in years past had been visited upon him for this
affair, and which had hardly yet faded from men's memories.
He gazed into Cammeyer's face with a pitiful look of misery
and imploration.
Cammeyer, who was a shrewd man, sprang at the oppor-
tunity to make himself of service to Lane, as a means of
accomplishing not only his deliverance but his revenge.
^^ Capt. Lane," said he, *'you remarked that you had a
grudge against Oliver Chantilly. So have I against both
the Chantillys. Let us then come to terms."
" Sir," cried Lane, who, instead of waitingfor Oammeyer's
offer, hastened, like a weak man, to make advances him-
self, ^^I know those Chantillys. You will never rise so
long as you serve under them. They are the chief men
wherever they go. The devil himself can never get ahead
of them. I know it, for I have tried."
Capt. Lane seemed unconscious of the self-disparagement
which his hasty words implied.
" Lieut. Cammeyer," he continued, ^^/can do more for you
than they. I want to pay off a very ancient grudge. If you
will tell me how I can do it, I will give you a safe return,
and they shall never know you had a finger in the business."
Cammeyer caught at this suggestion, as a night-hawk
snaps at a glow-worm.
384 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
Two ideas gleamed like-twin stars in his mind ^first his
escape, next his revenge. Here was a chan6e for. both.
Quick in invention and fertile in expedients, he replied :
^* Capt. Lane, listen. There's a lady in the case. She
belongs to me she is mine she made a formal gift of her-
self to me at least she did so by implication, which is the
way that ladies always prefer. But notwithstanding this
commitment of the woman by her free will to me, and to
me alone, I have reason to believe that PhiUp Chantilly
wants to capture her for himself."
'' Who is the lady ? "
'^ She is Eodney Vail's daughter, born on the Coromandel.
And she is a beauty. She outvies anything from Grosvenor
Square to Rio Janeiro.'*
Capt. Lane, in thinking how his deserted ship had come
back again to mock him, and how she had brought with
her a paragon, bom and reared on a hulk which he had left
to go to the bottom ^was stung anew with the reflection
that he would never again be able to hold up his head
among honorable men.
^^Sir," said he to Cammeyer, with mingled mildness and
ferocity, "is she such a beauty as you say ?"
"Yes, sir."
" And she has promised you her hand ? "
"She has."
"And Philip Chantilly is interfering between you ?"
"Yes."
"And do you want to punish him ?"
"I do."
" How do you propose to do it ? "
" By capturing the woman and marrying her at once."
" The devil ! " exclaimed Lane, who immediately tore
off more paper and began dividing it into flakes of snow.
A long talk then followed, during which the two men
warmed toward each other in a common purpose.
EMBAKKATION. 365
^* If you will deliyer Miss Vail into my hands/' said
Oammeyer ^Mf you will make me appear to her to be her
only protector if you will lay her under an overwhelm-
ing obligation of gratitude to me, so that I shall have
the right to insist on her marrying me to repay it, I will
reward you by ^^
^^Bywhat?"
" By delivering the Taniaqua into your hands/'
'^The devil !" exclaimed Lane, who continued tearing
the paper, and listening with intense interest.
*^ How do you understand the compact ? " inquired Oam-
meyer, who felt that if there were any loose ends they
should be tied at once.
" I understand.," replied Lane, *Hhat I am to capture
the woman and give her to you; in return for which you
are to capture the Tamaqua and give ter to 7ne. In other
words, a girl for a gunboat. A fair exchange no robbery."
^^ Oapt. Lane," said Oammeyer, ^^ our understanding is
complete."
The two men, with a smiling malice on their faces, and
a foretoken of victory in their breasts, then discussed at
full length a clever conspiracy by which they were to carry
out their base plan.
Meanwhile, in the thickening fog ^which began at first
to drizzle and at last to rain the islanders had resumed
their old familiar quarters in the cabin of the Ooromandel.
" This mist is very dense," said Barbara, " I hope
Philip will not get on the coral reefs. Much as I wish him
here, I almost wish him miles away. It is dangerous."
Barbara's sweet rest in Philip was now a halcyon pleasure
to her soul. She had experienced many exquisite sensa-
tions in life, but this surpassed them all. The breakers
roared on the outer side of the sand-bar, and filled her
ears with their noise ; but she consciously heard only a still.
386 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
small Yoice whispering within her soul. That one voice
uttered but one name, " Philip.'' A screaming gull flew
past, and this too seemed to say " Philip. " The wind sighed
softly by, and murmured the same sound, "Philip."
Barbara's heart kept rushing to her lips, and she went
about breathing the same charmed word, " Philip.''
"It is high time," said Capt. Chantilly, "that Cam-
meyer returned with the boat, bringing Philip with him.
Either the Tamaqua has moved from her place^ or else
the fog hides her. She is not to be seen where she was."
Capt. Chantilly said this as the result of observations
made on the hill-top, where he had been with Dr. Vail.
"Do you think," asked Barbara, "that the Tamaqua
would approach the coast in this fog ? "
"No," replied Capt Chantilly; "but Philip could
anchor the ship an^ come ashore in a boat. Cammeyer
knows the way back. The fog ought not to prevent him
from finding the island. The breakers ring like a fog-
bell, and he has only to follow them southward to the
mouth of the cove, and come up here in smooth water."
Barbara went to her old state-room, and, shutting the
door, exclaimed,
^^It is cruel this absence ^tliis separation. The fog
is like an enemy a prison a fate. I hate it ! In years
past, I have gone through days of it together, and have
not cared ; but now it suffocates me. Philip, do you
know how I long for you ? Can you guess that I am
thinking of you ? " And she buried her face in her hands.
Jezebel crossed the cabin, muttering in her quaint,
cheery way,
" What's de good book say ? ^At ebenin' time there
shaD be light.' Dey must a' had lamps in dem days.
So we must hab a lamp in ours."
She lighted the same old astral burner that once was *j
blown out by the earthquake's breath.
EMBARKATIOS^. 387
Barbara came forth from her solitude.
The lighted lamp suggested to her a signal-fire on the
hill-top.
*' Perhaps," thought she, ^* ?hilip may be bewildered in
the mists ; the fire, if I should kindle it, would guide him
on his way."
Barbara thought of Hero's light in the tower to guide
Leander across the Hellespont.
Dr. Vail and his daughter proceeded to the hill-top to
kindle a fire.
*' It will not be easy," said he, *^ to raise a bright flame
in this mist and'yapor ; we must stay and watch it, for if
we. turn our backs, it will go out."
While the father and daughter were thus engaged on
shore, a ship's boat, containing four sailors to row it and
two passengei'S sitting in the stern one an old man in a
pea-jacket, and the other a lady hooded in a water-proof
cloak glided briskly up the cove, and stopped at the
Coromandel.
"Ship ahoy !" shouted the old man, standing in the
dim light.
So hearty was the stentorian yoice that Oliver Chantilly,
who was on deck at the time, recognized it as the organ-
pipe of old John Scarborough.
Capt. Chantilly acknowledged the- salutation and asked,
" Where's my son Philip? "
*^The lad," said Scaw, "is hon the Tamaqua. He
wouldn't leave the ship without a proper hoflScer to stay
behind. He sends letters he sends me and better than
hall, he sends a fine lady."
Capt. Chantilly bowed to the fine lady, who acknowl-
edged the courtesy.
" Why did not Philip leave Cammeyer in charge of the
ship and come himself ? "
388 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
i(
Oammeyerr" inquired Scaw. "Why, Cammeyer
hisn't hon the ship. Philip said as 'ow Cammeyer was on
the 'hiland.'*
*' Cammeyer left the island this morning," remarked
Capt. Chantilly ; " he started with Bobson and Carter in
the boat to board the Tamaqua, lying off the coast in a fog. ''
"Well, then," replied Scaw, "Cammeyer must a'
lost his ^ay 'imself, for he has not been near the Tamaqua.
And no more has the Tamaqua been lyin' hoff the coast in
a fog, ^though it's you who say it who mebbe ought to
know your hown ship when you see her, ^honly you can't
know her when you don't see her."
During this colloquy Capt. Chantilly had indicated to the
oarsmen to run their boat ashore, and by means of the
ferry-basket to board the ship.
The lady came first.
" I have not the honor of knowing you, madam," said
Oliver, as he handed her from the basket to the deck, " but
I suppose you are a veiy special and particular friend of
Capt. Scarborough, since he keeps your name altogether
to himself."
" A lady," said Scaw, speaking with an emphasis as if
he were expounding a tenet of international law, " a lady
has a right to keep her name to *erself till she is willin' to
bestow it hon another; andhif this lady would drop hoff ^ers,
I know a hold cove who would be 'appy to give her 'i^."
At which, Capt Scarborough, who was now fourscore
years old, danced a step or two on the deck.
"Holiver, I halways said as 'ow I wasn't too hold but I
would live to dance on the CoromandePs deck. An' I've
done it. Yes, demmit, and though I've been a powerful
bachelor all my life, yet I wouldn't mind a dancin' at my
own weddin' at the 'leventh hour."
Capt. Chantilly laughed, and saw that the old lion was
in love.
~ EHBASKATION. 889
The lady, ^o had been on the point of replying to
Oliver, but was interrupted by the foregoing remarks of
Scarborough, now remarked,
" I would be glad, sir, to go unannounced into the pres-
ence of Mrs. Vail."
She said this with a gracious dignity of manner in strik-
ing contrast with the roughness and bluffness of her leonine
friend.
Capt. Chantilly conducted the lady into the cabin.
Mrs. Vail had taken for granted that the noise of feet
which she heard overhead indicated the return of Philip
and Cammeyer ; and she was regretting that Eodney and
Barbara were absent on shore.
Her surprise at noticing an unfamiliar female figure was
followed at the next moment by the intense joy of behold-
ing after the lady threw aside her cloak and hood ^the
beloved form and face of Lucy Wilmerding !
The two women rushed into each other's arms, speaking
only through their wet eyes.
Capt. Scarborough, when he met the Chantillys in
Carlisle Bay, had accidentally, in the first flush of his
eager greetings, and of his imparting the secret concern-
ing the supposed Confederate steamer, forgotten to men-
tion that Miss Wilmerding was then in Bridgetown,
On the return of the Tamaqua to Barbados with news
from the Coromandel, Lucy sought through Capt. Scaw
an interview with Philip, and begged permission to accom-
pany the ship back to the island and to the exiles.
She had at first hesitated about making this request, hav-
ing incidentally leanied that Lieut. Cammeyer -whom she
had not seen, or heard from, for many a sad year ^was on
the island. She shrank from meeting him. Her pride
and womanly reserve would have prompted her to avoid
coming face to face with the destroyer of her peace. Bui:
she reflected that, on Philip's amval at the island, Cam-
390 TEMPEST-T0SSE1.
meyer would immediately be put in charge of the Tamaqua^
while Philip and she would go ashore ; and that therefore
she would be quite as thoroughly aloof from the shunned
man as if she were on another continent.
Lucy had never ceased to love Camineyer ; ^f or the
divine flame^ having once been set burning on the altar of
her pure heart, remained like a vestal fire, unquenched ;
but the shock which her false lover had given her had
been so violent, and its effects so abiding, that despite her
ever-continuing love, nothing would have tempted Lucy
Wilmerding to hold an interview with Anthony Cammeyer
unless, indeed, she should find him fallen into some
misfortune.
In such a case, it would be quite certain that his ex-
tremity would touch in this deep-hearted woman those
fountains of pity which in woman's nature, like the waters
of Jacob's well, may lie sealed with a stone from sight, but
which, when uncovered at need, are still found to be
sweet, plentiful, and pure.
John Scarborough, like Philip Chantilly, had not the
slightest idea that Lucy Wilmerding and Anthony Cam-
meyer had ever known each other ^least of all that they
liad been betrothed.
While Dr. Vail and Barbara were striving to make the
signal-fire burn on the hill- top a task in which they
fought their watery enemy, the mist Lucy Wilmerding
and Scarborough were holding an animated talk with Mrs.
Vail in the cabin.
This talk was inteiTupted by Jezebel, with numerous
inquiries concerning her boy Pete.
It was also interrupted by Beaver, who grumbled and
growled, and was about to take Capt. Scaw by a trow-
ser-leg, but was rebuked by the lifted forefinger of Mary
Vail.
Old Scaw was beside himself with delight. His words
EMBAKKATION. 391
went bellowing througli the cabin like the explosion of
hand-grenades. He walked round thumping the timbers
with his knuckles, to assure himself that he was on board
a real ship, rather than in an imaginary ark. He occasion-
ally stopped in his pacings to peer into Mrs. Vail's face,
and to offer her the rude and sincere homage which the
strong and robust awkwardly show to the fragile and weak.
Capt. Scaw excited at first the merriment of Jezebel,
whose sense of the ludicrous was strong ; but when he was
asked to state his age, and responded eighty, the old wom-
an grew instantly jealous of his slightly superior years,
and plainly showed her pique at being dispossessed from
her position as patriarch of the ship.
The old man's attentions to Lucy Wilmerding were so
marked and ijicessant as to be embarrassing to that lady.
Meanwhile Oliver Chantilly carefully perused the fol-
lowing letter from his son :
On Board the Tamaqua. At Sea, Sept. 22, 1864.
My Dear Fathek
On reaching Carlisle Bay, I steamed up past Needham's Point, and
on ranging Fort Charles with St. Anne's Castle, anchored for the
night.
The wind was high, with dashes of rain, yet there was nothing
like the tornado which the barometer threatened, and which at one
time I expected.
At 9 p.m. I took Forsyth with me ashore, and we visited the
American Consul ; from whom I received intelligence that a Con-
federate cruiser, the Good Hope commander unknown is prowling
about these waters, seeking, like a she-devil, for what she may
devour.
Early the next morning Capt. Scarborough came on board, bring-
ing with him, to my surprise. Miss Lucy "Wilmerding ; who is now
a resident of Bridgetown, and of whom the veteran seems to be ex-
traordinarily fond. The old man has quite changed his crusty
opinions about women.
Acting on the Consul's information, I have deemed it my duty to
393 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
t^nil part of two days in skirting (hesc islanils to find the rebel
ios's den ; which will explain my dclny to return.
If you or CMmmeyer were on board, so that I could leave the ship
with aome older head than Forsyth's, I would now give three drops'
of my heart's blood to go ashore to eet Barlmra.
But it seems uiy perverse fate to Ije separated Irom the one object
in this world that most reminds me of tlic next..
I shall put to sea far enough to-niKlit to give all the Grenudinos
B wide berth, and shall crawl back early in tlie nioriiing t-o pick jou
up and hold a council of war.
An American merchant ship the Deiiiiirarii^ ia at Bridgetown,
loading with sugar. She ia commandt-d ly~guesH whom? Capt,
John Blaisdell, the Coromandel's first tnalf, who belped the pHssengers
into the boats during the fire. He senda his hearty ragarda to Dr.
Vail and family, and hopes the Coro'nnndel will get to Bridgetown
before the Demarara seti .sail. His eyes filled with tears when I told
hiin the story of the wandering hulk and her little compmy. He is
a brave and manly fellow, and hia ship ia a heanty he deserves as
good a one as ever suited.
There was a report at the Custom- House that the new governor of
Barbados is to be Sir Richard Wilkinson, whoae arrival is every
day expected.
The Coromandel will be an interesting curiosity to the baronet 1
The enclosed letter you will please deliver by your own hand in
private.
Your oft-vexing and now vexed son,
Philip Chantillt.
The "enclosed" in the above was a letter from Philip
|o Barbara the second in the modern system of postal
commanieation which had proved so great a novelfy to
the primitive mind of this fair maid,
" Hark ! " said Mrs. Vail, " I hear footsteps on the deck.
Rodney and Barbara are returning. My dear Lucy, here
is Barbara's chamber. Hide yonrself in it, and I will send
her to find yon there."
Mrs. Vail conducted Lucy to Barbara's room, and light-
ing a little lamp on a rack, left her sitting in the light.
, Mrs. Vail, on coming forth, and closing the floor behind
y
EMBARKATION. 393
her, met Barbara just as she came tripping down the
cabin-stairs,
" ! " exclaimed the flushed girl, at witnessing strange
men in the cabin.
Her father was equally surprised.
Then came a tumult of excitement a pell-mell of in-
troductions, hand-shakings, explanations, and joy-wishes ;
during all which Capt. Scarborough ruled the scene as
before, or rather, he was its " lord of misrule."
His great sides did not seem capacious enough to con-
tain his overflowing spirits. He roared with irrepressible
hilarity. He was on the point of tossing Barbara into the
air as he used to do with Philip, but reflecting that he
would bump her head against the deck-beams, he wisely
refrained from killing her with kindness.
Barbara was the common delight and treasure of all, an
object of supreme happiness to everybody except herself ;
for she suffered a pang of disappointment at the absence
of Philip.
Capt. Chantilly, who noticed this shade, slyly handed
her Philip's letter, which she instantly fled away with to
her own room.
What was her surprise to see herself there confronted by
a beautiful woman, who rose, and, with a tender and gra-
cious gaze, looked into her face without saying a word !
Had Barbara seen an incorporeal spirit, she could not
have been more completely astonished, subdued, and
awed I
Here was one of her own sex one of the great world of
women one of the fair sisterhood to whom she herself
belonged a real and not a shadowy Narcissa. Barbara
was no longer in exile. She was at last in society.
She saw at a glance that, whoever her visitor might be,
she was a benignant lady, tall, majestic, and elegant.
A few threads of early gray in her hair seemed to inter-
^
394 t:empest-tossed.
lace her youth and her maturer life into one ripening
comeliness, borrowed from both seasons. Her eyes were
black, and burned with large yet gentle lights. Her face
possessed that uncommon type of beauty which is height-
ened instead of hurt by a mournful expression ; as if the
ineffable dignity of some inward grief marked itself on
the outer front.
It is the instinct of all women, when they meet as
strangers, to look at each other thoroughly before they speak.
These two women stood speechless, face to face ; both
beautiful, but utterly unlike ; one past the heyday of her
youth, the other just mounting toward it ; -one pale, the
other flushed ; one brunette, the other blonde each per-
fect according to her type.
The two together seemed to outshine the lamplight, and
to be themselves the illumination of the room.
*^ My darling," said the elder, "this is a strange hour.
I am not sure that I ought to believe my eyes ^they report
to me such incredible marvels. I knew your mother when
she was young before her marriage. Your forehead is
like hers ; so is your mouth ; but that is all the resem-
blance. what beautiful hair you have 1 and what a
sweet face ! God has favored you, my darling. Beauty is
one of heaven's best gifts to woman. And so you are Mrs.
Vail's daughter ! I would not have known you. To think
that I have lived to see both her and you ! And to think
that you have had such a strange, such a romantic, such a
fabulous life. Ah, well, I too have had a strange life. All
lives are strange, my child. It is a strange world."
After Lucy had hurriedly made these remarks, Barbara,
who was not yet recovered of her astonishment, showed
no disposition to speak, but only to listen.
Lucy, in speaking, appeared more than ever a monument
of beauty to Barbara's eyes. No woman whom Barbara
had seen pictured in the books, or whom she had mirrored
EMBABKATIOl^^, 395
in her mind, was equal in comeliness to this impressive
stranger.
There was a perfume that exhaled from her as from a
delicate flower there was a graciousness in her presence
that fell upon Barbara like a benediction.
The unknown visitor put her arms about the younger
maid, atid pressed her to her heart.
" I am glad,*^ said Barbara, who had now regained her
self-possession and her tongue, " very glad more glad
than I can tell to see any friend of my mother. You are
most welcome. You will remember that I am a stranger
to all my mother's friends so please tell me your name."
^^ Ah," said Lucy, " I wish you might guess it."
" I cannot," replied Barbara. " Pray, dear lady, tell
me who you are."
"Your mother always loved me," said Lucy, ^'will
you love me, I wonder ? "
** Yes," responded Barbara, with a bountiful emphasis,
*'I am sure of it."
'^ Will you promise ?"
^* Yes, fair lady," returned Barbara, who once again re-
sorted to the stately salutations of the story-books. And
as she gazed into Lucy's dark, lustrous eyes, she saw in
them inore loveliness than she had supposed to exist among
women.
"I am Lucy Wilmerding."
Barbara leaped back. Her astonishment was supreme.
She had never once thought of Lucy as other than fixed in
an immortality of youth a creature who had been bom at
seventeen, and had always remained at that original and
unchanging age.
Then a sudden flood of feeling overcame her, and swept
away all her doubts.
Eushing up to her, she clasped her idol to her breast,
and exclaimed, amid her tears,
396 TEUFEST-TOSSED.
"0 Lueyl Lucy !"
The Lucy Wilmerding of Barbara's imagination was an
entirely different person from the Lucy who now stood be-
fore her : and yet the real Lucy was not less noble ^bnt
even more so than her prototype.
"Yes," she exclaimed, "you are worthy to be Lucy
Wilmerding I " and she kissed her aa one prineesa would
kiss another. " Dear, darling, beloved Lucy ! I am proud
to belong to the human race since you and and since
you, my dear, belong to it."
Barbara and Lucy held each other in their mutual arms
as two flowering vines intertwine themselves into one.
When this embrace was at last unlocked, Barbara found
herself holding a crumpled letter in her hand, at sight of
which she showed a look of pity and distress, as if the
little white object were some living thing whese life had
been ruthlessly crushed.
" 0," said she, eagerly, " I hope it is not harmed,"
" No," remarked Lucy, who knew that Philip had sent
this letter to Barbara, and who was charmed to see the
pare girl's passion for him written so plainly on her face,
" I suspect that it contains something which even death
itself cannot kill."
"What is that ? " asked Barbara, who thought of some
other piece of durable metal, like the gold ring which the
former letter enclosed.
"Love," answered Lucy.
Barbara blushed into a charming unison with the crim-
Bon wall of her chamber.
"I am afraid," retorted Lucy, with a gentle satire in
her tone, " that he has omitted to write one thing which
he said to me this morning on the ship."
" what was that ? " inquired Barbara, anxious that no
precious word that fell from Philip's lips should go to
EMBARKATION. 397
c
My darling," responded Lucy, " Lieut. Chantilly told
me that you were the loveliest woman that had ever yet
lived on earth.'*
What Philip wrote in that letter, Barbara did not
communicate to her friend, but appropriated entirely to
herself.
It is a mistake to suppose that love is a generous passion.
It is the chief greed possible to human nature. It is the
selfishness of great hearts. It is the avarice of God.
Lucy Wilmerding, with all the beauty of her living pres-
ence, was less to Barbara than a little crumpled note-sheet
in the handwriting of Philip Chantilly.
So Lucy stepped forth from the state-room to meet Dr.
Vail, whom she had not yet seen ^leaving Barbara alone
with her letter and her love;
CHAPTER XXVI.
AGATHA.
A FTEE an eyening of the most animated talk eyer heard
-^^^ on board the Coromandel since the days when her
cabin was full of outward-bound passengers seventeen
years before, the company broke up about midnight and
scattered to their state-rooms ; Barbara and Lucy sleeping .
together in No. 13 ; that is, if two talkative women can
be said to sleep when they spend nearly the whole night
in confidential chat.
The souls of women are like nightingales ; their sweet-
est discourse with each other is at night.
Barbara and Lucy told each other the story of their
lives making such reservation as each narrator thought
to be dictated by a proper modesty; that is, Barbara told
hers, omitting a too open reference to Philip ; and Luoy
hers, studiously disguising her acquaintance with Cam-
meyer.
** Darling Lucy, you have gone through the whole
world. You have seen everything. Which is the loveliest
thing of all ? "
Lucy smiled, and replied,
*^ My sweet Barbara, one of our poets ^a woman too
asks the question,
" ' What's the best thing in the world ? '
And her answer is,
898
(( (
AGATHA. 399
Something out of it, I think.' "
"0 Lucy/^ whispered Barbara, '' I think t^ie most beau-
tiful thing in the world must be a little child ^a sweet
babe in its mother's arms. This is a sight I never saw."
^' My darling," replied Lucy, to whom the thought of
never having seen a child communicated a powerful sense
of Barbara's complete isolation from the world, "you
have lived such a lonely life on the ship in such extreme
and uncommon exile from mankind ^that you seem like
the heroine of a romantic tale. I would not be surprised
if some writer would one day make a romance out of your
adventures."
Barbara knew from Capt. Chantilly's conversation that
Lucy "Wilmerding was a broken-hearted woman, but did
not tell Lucy what the Captain had said on this sad sub-
ject, hoping to hear the tale from her own lips.
The disguised narrative which Lucy told ran as follows :
" You already know," said she, " that after my mother
died, my father and I went to Europe."
" Yes."
*^ You know also that my father was very rich."
"Yes."
** Well, his intention was to enjoy foreign lands in a
rich man's lavish way."
"How splendid I" interrupted Barbara, her eyes burn-
ing in the darkness at the magnificent thought.
" So, for four or five years, my father and I traversed
Europe agoing everywhere. We lived in Paris ^we lived
in Madrid we lived in Eome we lived wherever there
was life. We sought music, and pictures everything
lovely and attractive. We drank the full cup of all pure
pleasures."
*^ How delicious ! " exclaimed Barbara, feeling the wine
of this description flowing in her blood.
400 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
" Then my father had many troubles, in the midst of
which he died.'*
" how sad ! " whispered Barbara.
*' His death occurred at Florence. '*
Tears came into Barbara's eyes.
*^ He was buried in the Protestant graveyard there.''
Barbara, who had invoked the telling of this tale, almost
wished that Lucy would stop it.
" Then I was left alone ^a stranger in a strange land."
" How dreadful I What did you do ? "
At this point Lucy hesitated, but finally went on as
follows :
" I was all alone in the world save for save for Agatha,
my other self, whom you shall see to-morrow when we
reach Bridgetown. I must tell you that Agatha was en-
gaged to a young American naval-officer, whose name she
forbids me to mention. Her lover though I think he
never loved her ^was a splendid man in appearance ^tall
and stately. But he had a sordid mind, and when he found
that the supposed heiress I mean Agatha would not in-
herit her father's fortune (for her father told him jestingly
that he was going to bequeath all his property, not to his
daughter, but to a public charity) ^the young lover, who
proved to possess no true love, made cunning excuses for
postponing the marriage, and finally deserted her forever.
She that is, Agatha never saw him afterward, nor has she
received a solitary word from him from that day to this."
'^ Perhaps he died," said Barbara, who could not com-
prehend such conduct in a living man toward a loving
woman ; and she felt, too, that there was a strange simi-
larity between Agatha's case and what she had supposed to
be Lucy's own.
^'No, he did not die," said Lucy. "He has since been
heard from in Japan, in South America, and in the Ameri-
can war."
AGATHA. 401
'^It must be such a help to Agatha,^' said Barbara^ ** to
have a real sister ^not such a foolish image of one as J had
in Narcissa."
"I clung to Agatha,^' responded Lucy, '^because I had
nothing else to cling to. Among my father's financial asso-
ciates," she continued, "w^ an old man James Scar-
borough, twin brother to him whom you have seen
to-night. If you had ever seen Jam,es you would have
thought him perhaps out of his mind. At least, that was
his lawyer's defence of him in court. But it did not avail.
He had become involved in speculations, and had taken
trust-funds, my father's deposits among them, ruining my
father and others."
^'What are trust-funds?" asked Barbara, who knew
nothing of money or its uses, except to regard a few coins
as picturesque curiosities.
'^ Trust-funds," said Lucy, " are other people's money.
Old Mr. Scarborough, finding himself in diffibulty, took
other people's money to help him out."
" "Well," said Barbara, "if he was in trouble, and other
people's money would relieve him, would they not be glad
that he took it ? "
"No, my child; on the contrary, they were very
angry because he took it. He was sentenced for five
years."
" What do you mean by sentenced for five years ? " in-
quired Barbara, whose opportunities for reading police-
reports had been limited.
"I mean," said Lucy, " that he was condemned to im-
prisonment for five long years."
"0," exclaimed Barbara, "how cruel to treat a good
old man in that way !"
Lucy could not make Barbara comprehend the sin of
embezzlement and forgery, so she dropped this point, and
went on with her story.
402 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
'*My father's American stocks were thrown on the
market and sacrificed."
Barbara listened, not understanding what was meant by
stocks, or their being thrown on the market and sacrificed ;
but she did not wish to interrupt the narrative by showing
her ignorance ; so she asked no question for her financial
enlightenment.
The truth is, Barbara knew quite as much of finance
as Lucy did, for both together knew nothing : in which
respect they resembled some of the proudest statesmen of
the present day.
" My father," continued Lucy, "in consequence of the
losses which he suffered through old Mr. Scarborough, be-
came a bankrupt.'*
"A bankrupt!" thought Barbara. *^I wonder what
that is ! "
But she made no inquiry.
"It was this misfortune," continued Lucy, 'Hhat so
preyed on my father's mind as to drive him into his
grave."
Barbara inferred that bankruptcy was a subtle disease
of which men die : and she was not far wrong.
" Well," continued Lucy, " Mrs. Scarborough, the old
man's wife, then told me that she had a moderate income
in her own right, and begged me to live in her family,
saying that this was the only reparation she could ever
hope to make for the losses which her husband had en-
tailed on my father. So I went ^Agatha and I ^to live
with Mrs. Scarborough in a small country-place just out
of London. I lived there Agatha and I ^fof five years.
Then Mr. Scarborough's term expired,"
" What does that mean ?" asked Barbara, who now felt
that she must ask some necessary questions or else she
would not understand the story.
"It means," said Lucy, "that after the old man had
AGATHA. 403
stayed five years in prison, he was then let out, and he re-
turned to his home."
"How glad," exclaimed Barbara, "his family must
have been to see him 1 "
^^ I never saw," said Lucy, " such a sad face as his. It
was sorrow's self. From the day of his sentence, he never
smiled. He looked a hundred years old, though only sev-
enty, I ^Agatha and I could not bear to stay, he seemed
so ashamed to meet me at the table ; and I resolved to
go. *No,' said Mrs. Scarborough, ^it will pain him if
you go.' So I stayed.
'* It then became (strange to say) a still more pleasant
home for me than ever. He was a stricken and penitent
man, and would weep like a child at any tenderness shown
to him; I Agatha and I ^would comb his white locks;
he would sit like a dead man, bolt upright in his chair,
never speaking except with his eyes. Such helplessness
and heart-break I never saw.
" His one and only thought was, ^ How can I undo the
wrong ? I can never undo it in my life. I must suffer for
it till death. And unless God shall prove more merciful
than man, I shall continue to suffer for it after death.'
"At length, to get him away from the scene of his
wrong-doing, his wife persuaded him to take the family
out of England, and go to one of the colonies.
" First they thought of Cape Town. But the old man's
brother lived there high in the esteem of the community
and the culprit would not go where he thought his
presence might fling a shadow on the one remaining good
name in the family. So we went to live in Barbados,
where Mrs. Scarborough's moderate means would suffice
to support the family. That was several years ago, and
yet it seems only yesterday.
"Then Mrs. Scarborough died. This was the final
blow that broke the old man's heart. He was seventy-
404 TBMPEST-TOSSED.
seven years old. I ^Agatha and I ^not having any re-
maining ambition in life ^for I had lost early what
others lose late that is, I had lost everything ^well,
having nothing to gain elsewhere, I stayed with the old
man Agatha and I ^and helped his tottering steps down-
ward toward the tomb."
" He died ? " asked Barbara.
" Yes ; and his funeral was one of the largest ever held
in Barbados. All hearts were touched and melted.
" Notification was then sent to Capt. John Scarborough
at Cape Town to come and settle the estate.
"Before Capt. Scarborough arrived, I had gone
Agatha and I to live with the Sisters of Mercy ; not as a
member of the order, but the convent employed me to in-
struct the choir, in return for which I had a residence in
the building without cost.'^
" Dear Lucy," said Barbara, " how different your life
has been from what I imagined it ! "
"Ah, Barbara, few lives ever fulfill their early promise.
I had too much of sunshine at the beginning not to need
the shadow at last. God knows best."
" Please go on," said Barbara, who drank every word as
from a fountain, half bitter and half sweet.
"When Capt. Scarborough came and opened the will,"
said Lucy, "he found the property to be 3,000, all be-
queathed to me; with a statement, written in the old
man's trembling hand, that the little money which he was
able to leave belonged morally to Lawrence Wilmerding's
daughter, who would have inherited the same and a hun-
dred times more from her father, had not her father been
brought to ruin by the testator's acts.
" This will pleased Capt. Scarborough, who said in his
quaint way, ^ Miss Lucy, my brother was always out of
his 'ed, but never out of his 'art. His 'ed was always
%, but his 'art always right.*
r
AGATHA. 406
" It makes me laugh, Barbara, to think of the amndng
talk of thia Hying brother eonceraing the dead. He never
defended, yet iierer abused him. He always spoke of him
with a comical gayetj and afEectioo. He is eighty years
old and yet yon see him hale and lively he is a fine
apeciraen of an old bachelor. And only think, Barbara,
but no, you cannot guess what he wanted to do."
" What was it P "
"Why, he wanted to marry me I "
" What did yoi say to him ? "
" 0, 1 answered that I would never marry any living
man."
" Dear Lucy, do you mean never to marry ?"
" I marry ! "
Barbara felt that she had touched a dangerous subject,
and diverting the conversation from Lucy's own case, said,
"Did Agatha forgive the man who proved so unworthy
of her ? Did she cease to love him ? Does this base man
1 live still P"
" Barbara, I must not epeak of what Agatha never
mentions. Every heart knoweth its own bitterness. All
persons who see Agatha, even without a word from her
lips, and in spite of her efforts at concealment, discover
I that she is a sorrow-stricken woman, walking her shadowed
way through the world, seeking for some quiet gate out
of it.
"Barbara, /have seen a great deal of the world you,
a very little of it ; but it is of small consequence to see
much or little ; happiness is here here alone," and she
pressed her hand with pathetic emphasis against her sad
heart. "Ah, yes, if even the kingdom of God is within
ns, as the canon of Scripture says, then of course the
lesser kingdom of the world must find room within us
' also,
[ " I mean that everything is in the heart. The hef '
406 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
the life. Agatha has gained nothing by seeing the world ;
you have lost nothing by not seeing it. Indeed, Agatha
has lost everything; you have gained everything. My
darling, you are looking forward eagerly to the world
which you are about to enter ; and I can tell you in ad-
vance the most that you will find in it."
"0 what?"
"You will find in the world chiefly what you carry into
it. Life will be little or much to you according to the
fate or fortune of your heart's love. You are very happy,
and I can tell you the secret of your happiness. It is not
because you are about to enter the world, but because you
have found a true love and a true lover. Give a woman
these two blessings ^love and a lover and you may then
deny her everything else. Love fulfilled in a lover this
is woman's all in all.
" If you should ask Agatha I mean when you see her
to-morrow ^which of all the world's treasures is chief,
she would point to the one she lost ; the loss of her first,
her last, her only possible love ; no, not her love, but her
lover. Her love she can never, never lose it is only her
lover that is gone. But when her lover went, all the world
went with him. So Agatha knows that nothing now re-
mains for her but heaven."
Barbara, whose interest was intense in Lucy's conversa-
tion, pressed her with questions concerning the man whom
Agatha loved his character and history ; ^but Lucy
evaded them on the plea, as before, of her obligation of
reticence concerning Agatha's secrets.
" Ah, Barbara, I must tell you what is going to happen
to Agatha."
"Go on," urged Barbara, emphatically.
" After Agatha," resumed her aiitobiographer, " took
up her qaiet abode in the convent though she was no
more a part of it than her lodgment in a countiy-inn
AGATHA. 407
would have made her a part of that she nevertheless
hecame greatly attached to the Sisters of Mercy. Mother
Dionysia would say to her, * To those who forget them-
selves, and who remember only God, there can be no other
sorrows except the sorrows of the Saviour which He suf-
fered for our joy, and the sorrows of others to whom we
are to carry this joy.' Agatha became intimate with the
youngest of the novitiates. This was Sister Angela. She .
was an orphan at school in the convent. At fifteen she
prepared herself to be a nun, although she could not take
the white 'veil until seventeen."
'' What is the white veil ? "
*^It is a garment the nuns wear a badge of their
order. At seventeen, Angela looked the merest child.
She was a blonde, just like you ; her hair, before it was
cut off, was like yours. And, 0, such deep and quiet blue
eyes ! She was very slight, and never well any little raw
wind gave her a distressing cough. When the dear girl
began to fade away, I could have taken out the heart from
my own breast and put it into hers if that would have
kept her alive.
" One day the dear child crossed herself and turned so
paie that I knew she must be dying. I immediately ran
for the Mother Superior to come to the bedside. She
came, and bent over dear Angela, kissed her, and put the
crucifix to the sufferer's lips. The little maid clasped
it with her white hands, and kissed it so passionately that
I am sure her kiss must have thrilled the heart of our
Lord in heaven.
" Then the little thing's teeth chattered. I ran to my
cell and brought a soft flannel which I spread over the
dying girl. ^Darling/ said I, ^this will make you a little
warmer.'
^* ^ no,' she said meekly. ^ It cannot keep out the
chill of death. Dear Agatha, bend low I have something j
408 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
to ask you. Listen. K I go, will you take my place
will you wear the white veil ? '
" Agatha trembled and made no reply.
" ^ Dear Agatha, speak to me,' said she. * What mes-
sage shall I bear from you to our blessed Mother Mary ?
Will you take my place will you wear the white veil ? '
"^Agatha answered not a word, but sat wrestling as
with life and death, with time and eternity.
" ^ 0, my sister Agatha, promise to take my place when
I am gone ^will you wear the white veil ? ' "
Barbara was now weeping at Lucy's mournful tale.
"0 Barbara," said Lucy, **no heart, not even of stone,
could have held out against such an appeal."
" What did Agatha reply ? " asked Barbara.
" She said, ' Yes, Angela, I promise I promise to take
your place I promise to wear the white veil.'
'^Then the holy candle was lighted and put into the
dying girl's hands in token that she was a virgin whose
light was burning ; and as its flame overspread her face,
she opened her eyes and exclaimed in a voice like music,
" ^ Behold, the bridegroom cometh ! '
" Dear Barbara, Agatha, faithful to her vow, is to take
Angela's place in the Convent of St. Carliola, and will
publicly assume the white veil on Sunday next. You will
arrive in Bridgetown just in time to witness the cere-
mony."
" Do you think," asked Barbara, " that Agatha will find
any rest in the nunnery ? "
"0 no, Agatha does not go there for rest ; that would
be misery for her ; that would tempt her to brood over the
past ; she wants, not rest, but active toil. She joins thef
Sisters of Mercy to be clothed with their habit, and to go
out every day to tasks for the relief of human suffering."
"Dear Lucy, what is the ceremony of taking the white
veil ? "
AQATHA. 409
" When we arrive," answered Lucy, " you ahaJl see tlie
ceremony with jour own eyes."
" What is the white veil made of ? "
" It is made ot simple muslin."
*' Lucy, I have a lovely piece of muslin. It is French,
and soft as vclfet. It is many years old, but white as
enow. May I give it to Agatha for her veil ? "
" Yes, my darling, "whispered Lucy, "but if Agatha is
to receive from tfou the white veil of a nun, then you must
receive from her the white veil of a bride."
As the night waned, there was mach other talk between
Barbara and Lucy, until at last the two women fell asleep
in eHch other's anns.
1
CHAPTER XXVn.
SURPRISE.
BETWEEN" midnight and morning the fog thinned
away, and the stars peeped out.
Every soul on the Coromandel slept.
Beayer, too, was among the sleepers an unwatchful
watch-dog; for although Barbara, early in the evening,
had led him from his down-stairs kennel and stationed him
on deck with orders to remain there as a sentry all night,
and particularly to give a loud bark of welcome in case of
Philip's approach, yet the burden of the old dog's age hung
heavily on his eyelids and weighed him down into a deep
slumber at his post.
Had Beaver been awake, he would now have barked ; for
a boat full of men was stealthily rowing toward the ship,
with muffled oars, in the gray dawn.
It was a boat from the Good Hope, and the men were
armed to the teeth.
Chiswick K. Lane was standing on the boat's bow, peer-
ing at the Coromandel to make sure of her doubtful
identity. He had once been the Coromandel's captain ;
he was now coming to be her captor.
Cammeyer was not among the boat's company, but had
been left behind on the Good Hope, to save appearances.
He was there guarded in fi-ee confinement as a prisoner-
of-war.
410
4
r
SUBPBISE. 411
The boat-load of conspirators drew nigh the anchored
hulk in silence.
*^Can it be possible that I see the Coromandel once
more ? " thought Lane.
The agitated man, notwithstanding the positive proof
which Cammeyer had given him of the ship's identity, did
not dismiss his last remaining doubt until he drew close
under the bow, and dimly saw the old craft's gilded name.
There it was 1
The begrimed letters ^blurred yet recognizable seemed
to certify that he had committed perjury. In reading the
ship's name, he read in it his whole past history. The
mildew that gangrened the one seemed typical of the stain
that defiled the other.
" God's vengeance ! " he cried. "It is the Coromandel
afloat safe sound 1 "
Ordering his men to remain in the bpat, he climbed
noiselessly to the deck, and walked from the bow as far
aft as the mizzenmast.
" Yes," he whispered, " the same water-tanks, the same
wheel, the same compass all the same as of old."
Turning round to walk back again toward the bow, his
elbow accidentally jostled against a bucket which stood
on the edge of the binnacle, and knocked it to the
deck.
Wakened by the noise, Beaver slowly opened his eyes,
leisurely shook his shaggy sides, and sedately stepped
forth from the midst of a coil of rope in which he had
kenneled himself during the night.
" The devil ! " exclaimed Lane. " The same dog ! I
can remember his brown coat before it had a gray hair.
Beaver, lie down ! "
This command, spoken in a low voice, was accompanied
with a threatening scowl to enforce it ; for Beaver began
to make noisy and joyful demonstrations.
412 TEHPEST-TOSSED.
He had eyidently identified Capt. Lane as his old
master of seyenteen years before ^just as the dog Argus
recognized Ulysses on that hero's return after an absence
of twenty.
^* Lie down, I say/' repeated Lane.
Beaver wagged his tail put his fore-paws against Lane's
breast and wheezed forth his salutation to his old master
in a manner most unwelcome.
** Hush, Beaver 1 " whispered Lane again, ^patting him
on the head, and trying persuasion instead of authority ;
but joy is not easily repressed, either in men or dogs ;
and the more Beaver was commanded and cajoled, the
more he grew delighted and irrepressible.
^^Downl" ordered Lane, pointing with his finger;
but Beaver only took this to be a satirical invitation to do
the opposite ; so he leaped up once more against his old
master's breast.
" Take that, then 1 " said Lane, striking him a stinging
blow on his right ear, to stop his congratulatory barking ;
but the dog accepted the buffet in kindness, and replied
with noisier barks.
" Damn the cur 1 " muttered Lane, '* he will wake the
ship's company before the time."
Whereupon the desperado drew a bowie-knife, and as
the unsuspecting and kindly creature once more leaped up
against him, the inhuman wretch swung back his arm to
its utmost reach, drove forward the glittering blade with
full force and momentum, and plunged it to the hilt in
the old dog's throat !
shades of heroes ! ^think of Ulysses poniarding Argus
in return for the dumb brute's welcome to the master of his
youth !
Beaver, under the murderous blow, fell heavily to the
deck groaning ^gasping and quivering in a pool of his
r nwT Mood.
SUBPBISE. 413
Lane ran to the ship's bow, and bending over, motioned
to his men to ascend.
They were barefoot shod with silence. They ran up
like squirrels. On reaching the deck, they formed in line
^numbering twelve marines and a lieutenant.
Not a loud word escaped their lips.
Lane stole on tiptoe toward the stairway leading to the
cabin ; when suddenly Barbara, who, having awaked at
Beaver's joyful bark, had robed herself with glad haste,
and had fled.with winged footsteps to the deck to be the
first to welcome the coming guest, ^now exultingly ac-
costed the conspirator in the faint gray light with the
ringing exclamation
'' Philip I "
But at the next moment her eyes cruelly corrected this
happy error of her heart, and she discovered not Philip
but a strange man with a bloody weapon in his hand.
"Where is Philip P" she wondered, full of alarm and
distress. ^^ And who are these menacing men ? Why have
they come ? what if they are pirates ! "
Catching sight of the bleeding dog, she uttered a scream.
" Beaver, what is this ? Blood ? Are you killed ?
Beaver 1 My dog, my dear dog ! "
Beaver, recognizing her voice, lifted his head ^turned
toward her his closed eyes, which he could not open gave
a faint moan, which was all the response he could make
crawled as near as possible to her feet. drooped his head
against the deck quivered convulsively gasped and was
dead.
Barbara, in tempestuous anger, confronted Capt. Lane,
exclaiming,
" What murderer are you, who have slain my dog ! Quit
this deck ! Go, bloody and brutal man ! stay ! ^what
have you done to Philip ? Have you killed Aim, too ? Is
Philip dead ? Tell me, sir ! speak ! "
414 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
" Tour dog ? '* sneered Lane, who cringed at the spec-
tacle of the girl's misery. ''Not yours, my lady, but
mine ^he was my dog. A man may kill his own dog may
he not ? This dog belonged to this ship, and this ship be-
longed to me, and both were mine before you were bom.^'
Hearing these incredible and preposterous words, Bar-
bara felt that she was in the presence of some maniac or
savage, who was inventing a horrible tale such as she had
read in the plots of books.
*' Beaver ! " she exclaimed, bending over him in grief,
" I have lived with you all my life romped with you
taught you tricks fed you watched over you and now I
see you killed ! murdered I my dear old dog P'
Her father, who heard the noise, came up stairs, and
seeing his daughter prostrate on the deck, and Beaver dead
beside her, and blood near them, and a bloody-handed man
standing over them, imagined that his beloved Barbara
had been murdered, and that the strange man was her
murderer.
- A sudden icy fire, like the sting of cold, pricked and
burned Dr. Vail's pulse.
Leaping upon the assassin, he recognized a familiar face.
"Lane !" he cried. "Miscreant I Having abandoned
us to one death, do vou revisit us with another ? It shall
be your last crime."
Dr. Vail clutched him by the throat, and in the twink-
ling of an eye threw him heavily down into the pool of
the dog's blood, from which Lane rose stained.
The twelve marines, during this scene of violence, re-
mained motionless, for Lane had instructed them against
making any demonstration except at his positive command:
^a precaution to avoid infringing the neutrality laws.
Capt. Chant illy now appeared on deck, followed by old
Scarborough.
" What means this bloody business ? " asked the captain
SURPRISE. 415
of the Tamaqua, who saw at a glance that it was a strata-
gem of war.
The hour for Lane's manoeuvre had been fixed by Cam-
meyer at day-break, because this was the time of high-
water.
In pursuance of Cammeyer's plan, the Good Hope, flying
the Confederate flag, was now hoyering o& the mouth of
the cove. Her draught of water was thirteen feet ruot
deep enough to endanger her touching bottom. She might
have steamed up to where the Coromandel lay, except that
in so narrow an estuary she could not have turned round
to go back.
Following the first boat came three others, all wielding
lusty oars to tug the Coromandel to the covers mouth,
where she was to be put in tow of the steamer.
*
One of these boats straightway slipped the chain-cable by
which the Coromandel was anchored. Another detached the
hawsers which guyed the great hulk to the shore. The
third cut off the feny-basket.
The stratagem for the capture, backed as it was by a
force of seventy men in the boats, together with a co-oper-
ating man-of-war in the offing, was about to prove a
success.
Capt. Chantilly turned to Lane, and with a haughty
sneer, remarked,
^^ I have met you before, sir, and know you for a coward.
Gentlemen" (turning to the armed marines), ^^this cap-
tain of yours commanded this ship seventeen years ago.
He abandoned her in a storm, leaving on board of her one
man and two women. These exiles have drifted about the
sea on this same hulk almost ever since. They are alive
to-day in this year 1864 against this wretch's sworn
oath that he saw them sink in 1847 ! He was a coward
then, he is a coward now. See, he has drawn his knife on
a feeble old dog a dog that has been the playmate of this
416 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
young woman ever since she was a child. Sir '* (turning
directly to Lane), ^' there is not in all your body a drop
of blood as brave as this which you have spilt from a
dog I "
Capt. Scaw, on recognizing Lane, was so choked with
rage that he could not speak, except to roar forth a few
detonating imprecations that went echoing over the island
like discharges of artillery.
Lucy Wilmerding had started for the deck, but arrested
her steps midway on the cabin-stairs, not venturing to go
further, and stood shuddering with an ominous sense of
impending woe.
Capt. Chantilly, who saw the strategic perfection of the
scheme, now bethought him that the enterprise could not
have been planned without an intimate knowledge of the
situation ; furthermore, that this knowledge could not have
been obtained by an ordinary reconnoissance from a distance;
wherefore he leaped to the conclusion that Lane must have
had an accomplice on the shore ; in other words, that Cam-
meyer was in the plot.
*' "Where, sir, is Lieut. Cammeyer ? ^' asked Capt. Chan-
tilly, turning upon Lane with a fierce tone of peremptory
inquiry.
" He is on my ship, sir, a captive where I hope to see
you join him in captivity."
Lucy Wilmerding overheard this intelligence concerning
Cammeyer's misfortune, and immediately ascended to the
deck.
" Sir," replied Chantilly, ^^you dare not touch a hair of
my head nor of any head in this party. "We are in
neutral waters, and you know it. Leave ^I copamand you!
^go ! Now, gentlemen " (turning again to the marines),
" this cowardly chief of yours, by leading you into maraud-
ing on neutral territory, renders each one of you liable to
hang on an English gibbet. This peaceable man, " pointing
SURPBISE. 417
to Eodney, " is now a resident on the soil of Great Britain,
and claims the protection of her flag/'
To which Lane haughtily replied,
'^ And I claim my ship. This ship is mine. She was
mine seventeen years ago she was mine when I lost her
she is mine now that I have found her and being
mine, I shall take her though the devil himself should say
nay/'
" You perjured liar," cried old Sqaw, who was now suflS-
ciently calmed to speak, ^^you claim this ship ? youy who
took a hoath that you saw her sink ? you a findin' of your
lost wessel ? Demmit, sir, the wessel what you lost went
to the bottom o' the sea ^you swore 4o that same in a
haffidavy and demmit, sir, hif you want fhat wessel, my
hadwice to you his to go straight to the bottom to find
her."
Lucy Wilmerding, who was trembling with distress in
contemplating Cammeyer as a prisoner, never suspected
his treason, but supposed him to be an honorable captive.
This sudden calamity to a man whose fortunes, whether
for good or ill, were once the chief object of Lucy's inter-
est, woke within her a desire to help him in his extremity.
" But," thought she, " what can I do without exposing
the fact that I have known him ? "
She resolved to wait till the situation should develop a
good opportunity by which she could render good for evil
to the-man who had stabbed her heart and slain its jDcace.
^^ How came, my officer on your ship ? " said Capt. Chan-
tilly, arrogantly ; for although the captain of the Tamaqua
was now practically a prisoner on the Coromandel, yet he
still ruled the scene by the force of his proud spirit.
'^Sir," replied Lane, ^^it took nothing but Lieut. Cam-
meyer's own free will to bring him to me, but it will take
mine to let him go again."
^^ Sir," responded Chantilly, *^ I call your attention once
418 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
more to the fact that you are in neutral waters a, fact
which includes the case both of Cammeyer and the Coro-
mandel."
^' Sir," retorted Lane, *^you may go further and include
yourself. You are ih neutral waters, as you say : I grant
it. So I will give you ten minutes to go ashore yourself
and party. But if you remain voluntarily on this ship till
after I have towed her beyond the neutrality line, I shall
then seize you as a prisoner-of-war, and hold you as capt-
ured on the high seas. Will you go ashore or stay aboard
which ? But there is one of your company who must
go, even if all the rest stay."
" Who ? " interposed Dr. Vail.
"Your daughter, sir."
Dr. Vail, construing this remark as a brutal threat against
Barbara, was about to spring once again at Lane's throat,
but the rebel pointed with a smile, first to his men behind
him, then to the boats in the stream, and finally to the
steamer just ahead.
"Eodney Vail," said he, "it will be a useless waste of
your life, to attempt mine.^*
" I would give my two eyes," retorted Dr. Vail, " and
enter willingly blind into a world that I long to see, in ex-
change for a loaded pistol at this moment, to^ shoot you
dead 1 "
The Coromandel by this time had been drawn almost to
the mouth of the basin, and would soon be past any con-
venient spot for landing her passengers.
" Do you decide to go or stay ? " asked Lane peremptorily
o.? Capt. Chantilly.
A hurried consultation was privately held by Vail,
Chantilly, and Scarborough.
" Oliver, my dear friend," said Eodney earnestly, ^^ you
must go ashore to be picked up by Philip otherwise you
will be a prisoner."
SURPRISE. 419
" jS^o/' replied Oliver, " my chance of being picked up
by Philip will come sooner if I stay on the Coromandcl
than on the island. By heaven, if Philip does not yet
prove a player in this game he is not his f ather^s son. Did
he not write that he was skirting the coast ? Philip is in
the neighborhood we have his own word for it. I shall
stay by the ship."
This decision (without the reason) was announced to
Lane ; after which the Coromandel, having reached the
open sea, was hitched by a hawser to the Good Hope.
^^Boys," exclaimed Lane, speaking to his marines, ^^ re-
tire into the boat and wait for me there."
As the marines were clambering down the Coromandel's
sides. Dr. Vail turned to Lane and said contemptuously,
*^Capt. Lane, the last time your men and you had
occasion to quit the Coromandel, you were not the last to
go ; I think John Blaisdell could testify to this fact."
This cutting allusion to Lane's cowardice during the
conflagration elicited from him no direct reply ; but he
curled his lips scornfully, and said,
" Call up your daughter, sir, who has fled into the cabin
bid her come back, to go with me at once I am in haste."
" By heaven, sir," replied her father, " my daughter
shall not stir from this ship."
Barbara at that very moment returned to the deck ; and
Lane, smiling at her with an affected gallantry, remarked,
" My fair lady, I have your lover on board my ship in
irons ; would it riot be gracious in you to share his chains ?
Will you not be glad to go ? "
Barbara, who had heard none of the previous allusions
to Lieut. Cammeyer as a prisoner on the Good Hope,
uttered a piercing cry at this announcement concerning
her lover supposing Lane to be speaking of Philip.
" God ! " she exclaimed, stunned and staggered by the
intelligence. *^ Is he indeed a prisoner on your ship ? "
420 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
"Yes/' replied Lane, " and he has sent me to fetch you
to him, to solace his captivity. Will you accompany
me?"
"Yes, yesl'^ answered Barbara, "let me fly at
once."
" I thought so," replied Capt. Lane, turning to her
father with a sneer. " What fond darlings these women
are ! "
Capt. Lane's exulting announcement that he had made
a prisoner of Barbara's lover deceived not only Barbara
herself but all the Coromandel's bewildered company
smiting their astonished minds with the sudden and awful
conviction that Cammeyer, Philip, and the Tamaqua were
each and all in the hands of the foe.
" Great God, my lost ship ! " muttered Capt. Chantilly
agonized at the foregone conclusion into which he had
erroneously fallen.
At this critical moment, the mutual misunderstandinjgs
of all parties were so many that they may be thus cata-
logued :
First, Lucy Wilmerding, who had accompanied Barbara
to the deck, had all along been mistaken by Lane for
Barbara's mother.
So, too. Lane never suspected that Barbara, whom he
saw in beautiful agony for her imperilled lover, was not
thinking of Anthony Cammeyer but of Philip Chantilly.
So, too, Barbara little dreamed that Lane was inviting'
her to join a man whom she could more easily loathe than
love. So, too, Lucy, who had heard that Cammeyer was a
prisoner on the Good Hope, supposed now that Philip was
there too. So, too (chief blunder of all), Capt. Chantilly,
Dr. Vail, and Scarborough all thought that Cammeyer had
delivered the Tamaqua and Philip to the foe.
Half the events in history (and more than half in ro-
mance) turn on similar accidents and mischances.
8UBPEISE. 421
" Are yon ready ? '' asked Lane, speaking gently to Bar-
bara, whom lie now looked upon as his chief ally.
^^ Yes, no ; let me say good-bye to my mother first ; '*
and she tripped down into the cabin and back again
eager now to go kissing her father and rushing up to
do the same to Lucy.
^* No," said Lucy, " no farewell to me I shall go with
you do not^ay nay I insist let me have my will."
C^t. Lane, still supposing that Miss Wilmerding was
Mrs. Vail, not only consented to her going, but was full
of glee at having both the daughter and her mother as
hostages ^probably as accomplices.
The gunboat was now under full headway, towing her
moss-clad prize out to sea, eastward, direct for Barbados.
Barbara and Lucy were taken on board.
Capt. Lane, in leading the ladies into his cabin, cast his
eyes on a little photograph of Sir Eichard Wilkinson, and
inwardly chuckled at the reception which he expected to
enjoy from his old patron, the new governor of Barbados.
'^ The baronet," thought he, " will find that he did not
spend forty thousand pounds on the Good Hope in vain
he will get his money back again and more besides."
The two ladies clung to each other, fearing a fate that
seemed all the more portentous because it was unknown.
But their fears were not for themselves. Barbara feared
for Philip Lucy for Cammeyer. Each kept her own
anxiety a heart's secret from the other : which is the habit
of deep-hearted women.
" I am sure," said Lane, addressing Barbara with marked
courtesy, " quite sure that you cannot be offended, even
with a rude sailor like me, for conducting you to the man
of your heart ; and I can only regret that so fine a gallant
is not the man of your father's heart also. But, begging
your pardon, madam" (bowing to Lucy), "the young
lady is now free to choose for herself."
422 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
" I do not understand yon," replied Barbara, in bewil-
derment.
" My pretty miss, yon have given a certain gentleman a
promise to make him the happiest of men, but your father
is an obstacle to the match."
*^ 0, this is false ! " cried Barbara.
*^ Do you then accuse your lover of falsehood ?"
" I beg you," said Barbara, eagerly, " takene to lieut.
ChantiUy at once."
"To Lieut. ChantiUy?"
"Yes."
" I cannot take you to Lieut. Chantilly," said he.
" Why not ? "
"Because I do not know where that rover is."
" But you told me he was on this ship and in irons."
"No."
"You did, sir! I call heaven to witness that you
did!"
"No," replied Lane, struck with Barbara's beauty,
which seemed to increase with her distress ; " I said I
would lead you to your lover but he is not Philip Chan- .
tilly he is Lieut. Cammeyer."
At this remark Lucy Wilmerding started as if stung by
a serpent. "
"I will call Lieut. Cammeyer at once," said Lane.
" Miss Vail, you will not find him loaded with very heavy
chains ; they are not of actual iron and they shall be al-
together silken, if you so decree. He is at his ease, en-
joying his freedom and I presume is expecting your
approach with the proper palpitation of a true lover's
heart."
Lucy, who had hitherto remained standing, now sank
into a chair. She drew her veil over her face. A human
soul, when it is in agony, finds another agony in the dread
of exposing its writhings to human eyes.
SURPBISE. 423
Lient. Oammeyer has spoken falsely/' said Barbara.
He is not my lover, nor am I his/^
But," interposed Lane, "he explicitly told me of his
offer to you of marriage of your willing acceptance and
of your father and the Chantillys as obstacles.''
Every successive word of this disclosure concerning
Cammeyer's attempt to marry Barbara, pierced the veil of
Lucy Wilmerding like the seven daggers that rent Caesar's
mantle.
"Good sir," said Barbara, with indignation, "Lieut.
Cammeyer did propose marriage to me, but I was the ob-
stacle, not my father, nor any other person."
"Has Cammeyer then dared to deceive me?" asked
Lane, biting his lips.
"If he has tdid you this," replied Barbara, "or any-
thing like it, he has deceived you most wickedly."
"You do not, then, wish to marry him ? "
" I do not."
*^ Have you not given him your word ? "
"I have not."
*^ Do you reject his offer ? "
^' I spurn it."
'^ Do you not love this man ? "
"I disdain him."
Barbara's beautiful eyes were now flashing uncommon
fires ; while the veil that covered Lucy Wilmerding's pale
face was hiding a whiteness as of death itself.
" The devil I " exclaimed Lane, gnawing his nether lip.
"If this man has been playing a trick on youy my lady, he
may be playing one on me. Tell me. Miss Vail, is Cam-
meyer a villain ? "
"I have never dwelt among villains," responded Bar-
bara, " and I know not in what villainy consists."
Capt. Lane summoned a midshipman, and said haugh-
tify.
424 TEMPEST-TOSSED,
** Bring me Lieut. Cammeyer."
After the midshipman departed. Lane turned to Bar-
bara and exclaimed sharply,
'^ You shall meet this Yankee renegade face to face in
my presence. There is a falsehood between him and you.
I shall determine for myself which one of you has told
it."
" Shall I retire ? " asked Lucy, who rose as if to go, and
who gladly would have gone : for she now felt an inten-
sified dread of meeting the basest man of all the world.
" no, I beg you to stay,'' urged Barbara, imploringly.
Cammeyer then entered the room, and noticing that
Barbara was accompanied by a veiled lady, took for
granted (as Lane had done) that this companion was her
mother.
The cool strategist first bowed deferentially to the sup-
posed mother, and then, turning to the daughter, was
about to kiss her hand, when Barbara drew it back and
fiercely exclaimed,
" I forbid you, sir, to touch me and I appeal to Capt.
Lane for protection."
This remark not only solved Lane's doubt, but touched
his pride.
"The girl speaks the truth," thought he, "and the
man is a knave."
Capt. Lane's sympathy quickly welled up toward the
angry young beauty.
"Miss Vail," remarked Cammeyer, with admirable
composure, "I desire to see you a few moments alone."
" I-dfctine to be seen."
"\But I have a word for your private ear."
" Sir, I refuse to listen to it."
" But it is for your interest and safety."
" I disdain, sir, to receive any proposition that you may
make."
SURPRISE. 425
'* Miss Vail, I am anxious for your happiness."
^'Then, sir, leave me instantly."
*^Miss Barbara, this is unexpected."
'^ I beg you, captain," pleaded Barbara, turning to Lane,
** terminate for me this interview at once."
^*It shall be as you wish," responded Lane, who by this
time was wholly won to Barbara's side.
^^I have a few words then," remarked Cammeyer, with
chilly blandness, " to address to this lady " (pointing to
Lucy, still supposing her to be Barbara's mother). "I
prefer to speak with her in private^ that is, with your
kind permission, captain and with the lady's own."
Cammeyer, little dreaming in whose presence he stood,
was then left alone with a woman whom he had deserted
thirteen years before and by whom he had ever since
been despised, pitied, and loved.
" Madam," said he, walking up and down the little
cabin, ^^ I did myself the honor to inform you promptly
of my proposal o| marriage to your daughter, and of your
daughter's virtual acceptance. You received this intelli-
gence with a kindness to which I desire once again to
appeal. May I speak further ? "
The veiled lady bowed her assent.
Lieut. Cammeyer had previously come to the conclusion
that the vague rumor of his ill-treatment of Lucy Wilmer-
ding had been the pricking spur to Barbara's indignation.
But he was quite sure that neither the Vails nor the Chau-
tiUys had any accurate knowledge of this shadowy event
in his past life. He therefore resolved upon a bold and
wicked fabrication concerning Lucy Wilmerding, as follows :
"Mrs. Vail," said he, with an air of solemnity, "before
I speak to you again of your daughter, I must first refer to
a lamented being whom you once loved almost as a daughter.
You will readily imagine that the name which I am about
to mention is that of Lucy Wilmerding. I was once en-
426 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
gaged to Miss Wilmerding, but before we could be married,
she died ; leaving me to mourn my irreparable loss.
Time, madam, which is said to cure grief, long proved
impotent to cure mine. Recently, however (let me confess
it), Miss Barbara revived, and I may say re-hallowed, the
memory of my lost Lucy our lost Lucy. If you think
this to be a memory which I have rightly cherished ^then,
madam, pray permit it to inspire in me a desire that your
daughter shall accept the same place in my heart which
Lucy held. I have hesitated to make this appeal in this
form until now, because I have not heretofore had the
courage to communicate to you so mournful a piece of in-
telligence as Miss Lucy^s death : a death which, my dear
madam, you will now mourn for the first time, but which
/ have never ceased to lament since the day when I stood
by her new-made grave."
During these remarks, Lucy "Wilmerding sat trembling
so visibly that her shudderings ran like ripples up and down
her veil. Alternate heats and chills ^ot through her
flesh. Tears started toward her eyes, but dried on the
way thither, and left her eyelids stung with fever. Her
pulse rose high and then suddenly stopped, as if her heart
were in doubt whether to go on with life any longer, or to
put a merciful end to it at once.
The slow utterance of Cammeyer's cunningly devised
speech which he pronounced hesitatingly afforded Lucy,
before its conclusion, an opportunity to rally from the hor-
rible and sickening surprise with which the base man's
falsehood and sacrilege overwhelmed her.
Hardly had the last words of his audacious utterance
escaped his slow and monotonous lips, than she swiftly
rose, threw up her veil, and looked him in the face.
" Lucette ! " he exclaimed tottering backward ^throw-
ing up his arms ^leaning against the wall and gasping
for breath.
SUBPRISB. 427
(Lncette was the familiar name by which he had been
wont to call her in the days of their youth.)
Neither they who commit- wrong, nor they who suffer it,
can prevent it from emblazoning its tell-tale revelation on
their faces ; and in moments of high passion or startling
surprise, these life-records, in spite of all efforts at conceal-
ment, discover themselves at a glance divulging ghastly
inscriptions of crime or grief.
Lucy Wilmerding looked ten years older in a moment,
and showed the internal conflict that comes of anguish
seeking to hide itself under pride.
The base trickster, whose trick was so unexpectedly
frustrated and exposed, surveyed Lucy from "head to foot
scowled at her like a madman clenched his right hand
sprang toward her where she stood and was about to
fell her to the earth but her calm, undaunted, and de-
fiant look paralyzed his dastardly arm.
^* Wretch W she exclaimed with mingled pride, scorn,
and wrath ; and she gazed at him as if she too, in turn,
could become a destroyer ^not by a lifted hand, but by a
withering glance. " Am I dead ? " she asked, advancing
purposely near him, to show how little a brave woman
needs to fear a cowardly man's threats. " Yes, Anthony,
I am dead indeed slain you know by whom ; ^you are
right in calling me dead. But you are wrong in announc-
ing me in my grave. Every death is entitled to its burial.
You did but half your work years ago do the rest now.
Strike hard enough to lay me under ground Strike, I
say ! '*
Cammeyer was petrified. The blow which is welcomed
hurts little. The blow which Lucy outbraved remained
undealt. She stood the temporary conqueror.
" Have you come to taunt me ? " cried Cammeyer, cring-
ing before her. *^ Did you cloak yourself like an assassin
that you might steal upon me unbeknown ? Is revenge
428 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
SO sweet to your sex that a woman whon a man has
spurned will follow him round the world ^just to see him
spumed by another woman in return ? '^
^*Be thankful/* she said haughtily, ^^that I am Ttot
Barbara's mother ^to reproach you from the depths of a
mother's soul for the guile and deceit with which you
would ensnare her innocent child. Would you force her to
a marriage with you against her will her whole heart
pledged to another ? Is not one blighted life sufficient
to fill the measure of your mischief ? Is not one broken-
heart enough for you to answer for at the Judgment
Day ?"
CammeyeVs face was now liyid his eyes wild ^his fin-
gers moving as if playing on vibrating strings and his
whole aspect that of a man who, though conquered before,
was dangerous now.
But he was soon overpowered by his own excitement.
He sank. back in a chair, and gazed down at the floor with
a vacant look, as if unconscious of his visitor's presence,
his countenance lapsing into an expression of pitiful abject-
ness and woe.
^^ God I " thought Lucy, ^^ what have I said ? I have
forgotten my vows I have spoken in anger I have not
remembered mercy. Forgive me. Mother Mary in heaven 1 "
Lucy's natural resentment now came under the awful
condemnation of Agatha's religious faith. Lucy stood
appalled by the ringing of her too violent words in Aga-
tha's calm ears. Lucy's haughty anger was conquered by
Agatha's soft humility. Lucy's indignant self-assertion
was melted into Agatha's self-abnegation.
^^ Tell me," cried Cammeyer, who leaped up from his
chair, and went raving around the cabin, "what damnable
errand brings you here to torment me before my time
confess, or I will sear your eyeballs and tear out your
^eart,"
SUBPKISB.. 429
Throughout this strange interview, Oammeyer's demo-
niac behavior had been so wholly unlike the cold and re-
served manner of the man whom, in earlier years, Lucy
had looked upon as a very statue of self -poise and stony
repose, that her astonishment at the spectacle was equaled
only by her grief in beholding it.
^^Was it you," he continued, quivering with rage,
" who put Lane on my track ? Was it you who sent the
Good Hope to the island, to cheat me in the fog ? Was it
you who spread this rebel's snare for my feet ? "
Once again Cammeyer leaped toward Lucy as if to wreak
a powerful vengeance on her by one final act of malice.
"No, Anthony," said Lucy mildly, "I am a woman
and, being such, my pride and wrongs would have forbidden
me to seek your presence save at the call of your misfortune.
But I heard you were a prisoner. Capt. Lane, who holds
you, was once in my father's service, and commanded one
of our ships. My father was lenient to him for a breach of
trust. This fact, I thought, would give me a ground of
interceding with Capt. Lane in your behalf. It was this
motive^ this only that prompted me to come. Otherwise,
Anthony, we might never have met again in this world."
In a white rage, Cammeyer, as if now meditating a
simultaneous vengeance on both Lucy and Barbara, ex-
claimed
/^I could strangle you both, and laugh in doing it!"
And' he chuckled as if he were already in a delicious act of
murder. "Accursed be your name ! accursed be hers!
accursed be all your sex ! "
" Men's curses," said Lucy, ^her voice softening into a
pitjring tone, " have no lodgment in God's heart ; other-
wise on youy Anthony, the wrath of heaven would have
fallen long ago for my father cursed you on his death-bed.
But fear not for I live to forgive you ; which I do freely,
both for all the past, and for to-day."
430 TEMPEST-TOSSEB.
Lucy was about to speak further, but a horrible impre-
cation suddenly burst from Cammeyer's lips, smitiTig the
tender and charitable woman as a simoom smites a flower-
stalk.
^^ May God, whom this wretched man blasphemes,'^ sighed
Lucy, '^pity and pardon his frenzied mind."
Lucy, feeling that her continued presence would only
excite Carameyer to renewed oaths and fury, hastily re-
tired, saying the simple words
"Anthony, farewell/*
The close student of human nature will hardly need to
be reminded, in reviewing Cammeyer's apparently unchar-
acteristic behavior, that the chief part which Lucy played
in this drama of his incipient madness was merely to be the
mirror in which this defeated villain saw himself revealed
in such hideous lineaments that he was now unpoised at
the self -contemplation.
As for Lucy's motive in visiting her false lover in his
adversity, whom for thirteen years she had not sought in
his prosperity, she had stated it to him honestly ; and in
acting on the motive which she had thus stated, she simply
did as many another injured woman has done before, and will
do again ; for be it known, to the honor of all womankind,
that no man who has never been in sorrow and friendless-
ness ^no man who has never become his own worst enemy
no man who has not, in some way, suffered the chief
agonies of human life can possibly know the almost divine
omnipotence of woman's sympathy, loyalty, and love.
Lucy Wilmerding was one of a type of women who,
though not multitudinous in the world, are yet neither few
nor far between ^women who love once, and once only
women who, having once loved, and found their love
unrequited or disappointed, have no recourse but to love
still ^giving forth to the same false lover the same true
love.
SITRPEISB. 431
Among the high and holy principles to which Lucy had
devoted her heart-broken years, and which had led her into
a religious life, was a saying spoken of Him who spake as
never man spake : -
*^ Having loved His own. He loved them unto the end."
No sooner had Lucy retired from the frenzied man's
presence, than he drew a pistol ^leaped toward the door
which she had just closed behind her ^put his hand on the
knob as if about to pursue and kill her suddenly paused
changed his mind cocked the pistol thrust the ba;rrel
into his right ear and pulled the trigger.
the weapon missed fire.
This accid^it saved the raving man from self-destruction,
for at the next moment his courage failed him ; he trembled
at his act cold sweat burst out on his brow he put his
small weapon back into his pqcket ^he gasped for breath at
the horrible thought of having attempted suicide he thrust '
both his hands into his hair and finally he flung him-
self to the floor.
"My dear Lucy,^* asked Barbara, "what did Lieut.
Cammeyer say to you ? '*
*^ My dear Barbara," replied Lucy, "he mistook me for
your mother, and begged me to plead with you in his be-
half.''
"Madam," inquired Lane, surprised, "are you not,
then, this young lady's mother ? "
"No," said Lucy, "I am the daughter of Lawrence
Wilmerding you knew my father, I believe."
Capt. Lane staggered as if struck by a handspike 1
All his past career seemed again rushing upon him, to
bring hint to judgment.
Two great clouds had shadowed Oapt. Lane's name for
many years ; one a breach of commercial trust, for which
he would have suffered a harsh sentence by a court, save for
the clemency of Lawrence Wilmerding ; and the other, the
432 TEMPEST-TOSSED^
still harsher sentence of public opinion for deserting the
CoromandeL Both these clouds now seemed rising afresh
into the sky, ready to smite Lane with their thunder-bolts
onc^more.
He instantly determined to send the two ladies back to
their own ship.
To make this act seem all the more gracious, and his
disposition all the more honorable, he resolved to seoid
back Robson and Carter also ; for as these two men had
come on board his ship while she lay in neutral waters,
he felt apprehensive that their forced detention, which
could do him little good, might possibly do him great
harm.
Capt. Lane thus shrewdly sought to put not only the two
women and the two men, but all the Vail family and both
the Chantillys beside, under an obligation to credit him
with fair dealing.
The Tamaqua's boat, which had been captured with Cam-
meyer, was now got ready ; Eobson and Carter were ordered
into it ; and the two ladies were gently handed down by
Capt. Lane, who said to Barbara,
"Miss Vail, I neglected while on the Coromandel to
congratulate your father on his rescue : please convey to
him my good wishes, and say that on our arriving in Barba-
dos we shall be favored with the presence of Sir Eichard
Wilkinson, the new governor, who in. former days was
interested in your father's anticipated labors in Cape Town.
Ladies, I hope we shall arrive before nightfall ^until then,
good day."
The rebel captain stood with lifted cap while Robson and
Carter dexterously manoeuvred the little boat back from
the Good Hope to the Coromandel.
" Welcome ! my daughter 1" exclaimed Dr. Vail, em-
bracing her fondly.
stiljfLWelcome 1 my son 1 " joyfully cried Capt. Chantilly,
love.
S^TRPBISE, 433
pointing to Philip^s ship, which was just emerging from
behind one of the northerly Grenadines.
At the next moment the Tamaqua was in f nil sight about
four miles off, bearing the American flag as usual, and
showing no signs of captivity, but presenting a warlike
fronts ominous of battle and blood.
CHAPTEK XXVm.
. BATTLE.
AT sight of the Tamaqua confronting the Good Hope,
- the agitation on the Cqromandel was greater than on
either of the war-ships, aiid was full both of joy and fear.
" Look yonder 1 " exclaimed Rodney. ^* What are they
doing on the Good Hope ?"
"They are casting off the hawser," replied Oliver.
^^ Lane is setting the Coromandel adrift. There 1 the
line is gone 1 We are free 1 He means either to fight or run :
in either case he cannot drag a dead-weight behind him."
** Merciful heaven 1 " exclaimed Barbara, '* is there to*be
a battle ? What if Philip should be slain ? "
The distressed girl burst into tears.
*' Lane fight ? " cried Scaw. " No, demmit, no that
rogue will run. There's no fight in *m."
But Scarborough was wrong ; for the ,Good Hope now
sped straight toward the Tamaqua.
Oapt. Chantilly's practiced eye saw that the rebel gun-
boat meant to give a challenge.
It was diverts habit, when danger came, to be calm and
reticent. A singular nonchalance now marked his intrepid
spirit. He put a willow-chair on the top of the binnacle
sat in it with crossed legs and thrummed his larboard
knee with his starboard fingers.
** Now we shall see," he said to Eodney, " what kind o*
^^mber the boy is built of,"
484
BATTLE. 435
m
The battle was already raging in Barbara's breast.
" my dear father," she cried, " when you and I found
the little boat Good Hope and when I planted vines and
flowers about it who would have thought it an enemy in
disguise ? "
The Good Hope was an English steam-propeller of 970
tons ; built at the Liverpool dockyards ; armed with Eng-
lish guns of the latest rifled-bores ; nlanned by an English
crew who had been trained on her Majesty's- gunnery-ship
Saracen ; paid for with the money of an English baronet
at Cape Town ; and was one of not a few light, agile, and
formidable cruisers which a certain class of Englishmen
against the better genius of their country supplied to a
rebellion in the interest of human slavery in the United
States.
Sir Bichard Wilkinson, in giving this evil-minded gun-
boat a charitable name, took pains to equip her with an
armament such as would blast human charity with a fiery
breath.
From all the English foundries, he chose their best metal
here one gun, there another.
Her armament, thus picked for perfection, consisted of
eight guns in all ; among which was a rifled 110-pounder,
cast after the only pattern that had then proved success-
ful with guns of this calibre in the British service ; also a
68-pounder of that famous Blakely mould, whose thun-
derous praise had been many times self -spoken in the royal
navy ; together with a form^'dable battery of what were
known as 32-pounders of 57 hundredweight.
The Tamaqua was a steam-propeller, a, trifle smaller than
the Good Hope, her tonnage being, instead of 970, only
890 ; carrying, not eight guns, but seven ; and accomplish-
ing, when under a full head of steam, a maximum speed
of Hi or 12 knots an hour, while the Good Hope had
repeatedly attained 13.
436 TEMPESf-TOSSED.
The Tamaqaa was an American vessel throughout in
model, in metal, and in men.
Her armament included four broadside 32-pounders, one
28-pound rifle-bore, and two 11-inch thunderers carrying
each a projectile of 160 pounds.
The two armaments, though somewhat difierently dis-
tributed, showed no great disparity in the total weight of
metal which each could fling at a foe.
The two steamers, though small, and looking at a dis-
tance more like steam-yachts or revenue-cutters than war-
waging spitfires, were nevertheless rendered by their new
style of armament far more formidable than the stateliest
line-of-battle ships of the obsolete type of 74 lighter-
weighted guns.
The Good Hope would ordinarily have been the swifter
sailer of the two ^able to creep ahead of the Tamaqua by
at least a mile an hour. But the rebel ship had just been
coaling at St. Vincent, and was now full-freighted with
300 tons of coal, that weighed her down in the water ;
while the Tamaqua's hollow coal-bunkers contained hardly
more than 90 tons ; an accidental circumstance "wliich
rendered her, for the time being, the superior in speed,
and enabled Philip to surprise and astonish his rival and
particularly Cammeyer ^by the agility of the Tamaqua's
manoeuvres.
The Good Hope's oflBcers and crew numbered 142 men
^augmented by the presence of Cammeyer, who was the
most important man among them. The Tamaqua's officers
and men numbered 138 now reduced by the absence of
Capt. Chantilly, Lieut. Cammeyer, and the two seamen
Eobson and Carter ^leaving Philip's working force 134
in all ; or eight men less than his enemy.
Philip took a precaution which Lane neglected. This
was to chain-coat his vessel amidships ; in other words,
^o hang chain-cables up and down the Tamaqua's sides
BATTLE. 437
from the deck to the water, doubling and re-doubling
the chains as many times as their length would permit,
and " stopping " them fast thus turning his wooden ship
into an extemporized iron-clad.
"Both ships," said Scaw, ^* are goin' to give us a wide
^erth."
From the^ moment the two warriors came in sight of
each other, Philip steered eastward to the open sea. He
bore in mind his father's injunction against committing a
hostile act in neutral waters. The prudent young man
resolved that if a battle was to be fought, it should be
fought beyond the legal league from land.
The Tamaqua's apparent flight drew the Good Hope to
follow her at a bounding speed.
," They are going to sea," said Capt. OhantiUy, " and
we are going ashore."
The Coromandel, having been cast loose about two
miles to windward of the little isle, was rapidly drifting
back toward it wafted by a slight wind and a strong cur-
rent, both from the east.
The old ship, which had lost one anchor at sea, and had
been robbed of another that morning in the cove, had only
one remaining a river-kedge, which would not have been
a safe reliance in rough weather, but would serve well
enough in the smooth sea on which the old hulk was now
once more lazily floating as in the Calms of Capricorn.
The kedge was at once lowered from the bow and al-
lowed to hang at forty fathoms.
By this expedient the Coromandel soon afterward an-
chored herself off the breakers, just beyond their riot and
roar,, and lay awaiting the coming storm of shot and shell
about to burst forth in the sunshiny distance.
Meanwhile, on both gunboats, warlike preparations
were in swift progress plainly visible to Capt. Chantilly
through his glass.
438 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
" Can yon see Philip ?'' asked Barbara.
^* Ah/* replied the young man's father, with a provoking
levity, '* Philip is not one of those good boys in the maxim,
who are to be seen, not heard ; he is to be heard, not seen."
^^Let me look 1 " said Barbara, borrowing the glass.
Bnt her hands shook so violently that the Tamaqna
danced a mad caper across the lens, and the whole ocean
jumped np and down like a harlequin.
^* Now let me try,*' said Lucy, who l&xed a steady focus
on the Good Hope.
" Did you see him ? " asked Barbara.
^*No," replied Lucy, quietly, with a tone of disappoint-
ment on laying down the glass.
"But," said Barbara, "how could you expect to see
him ? you were looking at the wrong ship."
Lucy made no reply.
Philip Chantilly walked calmly through the Tamaqua
and spoke a few manly words to each group of men at
their posts : marines, gunners, engineers, firemen, coal-
heavers, and powder-boys.
He was everywhere saluted with a cheer ; for of all the
ship's officers he was the best beloved.
He pivoted his guns to the starboard, and gave orders
to the gunners to aim the heavy ordnance just below the
enemy's water-line reserving the lighter guns to sweep
the enemy's deck.
He unshipped the bulwarks at the port-guns, making a
wide space exempt from accidents otherwise possible by
splinters.
He hastily prepared the fore-hold for the accommodation
of the wounded.
He ordered the men to take off their jackets and fight
in their shirt-sleeves.
He put two assistant-engineers in charge of hot-water
l^SMs to be used if the ship should catch fire.
BATTLE. 439 -
He went to the men on the sick-list, and, without giving
them any command, received from them their voluntary
offer to return to their posts ^there to render such service
as each man mighb find himself able to perform.
^^ Forsyth,^' said Philip, turning to his young brother-
officer who had served with him on the Fleetwing, " let the
marines fight the rifle-gun on the top-gallant forecastle ;
put the acting-master's-mate in command."
The two vessels were now six or seven miles from shore,
still steaming eastward to the sea.
^^ Forsyth, how far away from us do you judge the Good
Hope to be at this moment ? "
" Two miles," replied Forsyth.
" I should say a. trifle less than that," rejoined Philip,
"and I mean to diminish the distance to a half-mile."
Whereupon Lieut. Chantilly suddenly wheeled his vessel
round, and under a full head of steam made a bee-line
toward the enemy as if to run him down.
The Good Hope's course continued unchanged.
The two war-dogs were now rapidly approaching each
other, but neither had yet opened his mouth to bark.
When the narrowing interval was abridged to a mile, the
Good Hope, determining now to bring her guns to bear,
sheered so as to present her starboard battery ^then slowed
her engines so as not to pass the Tamaqua too quickly ^and
suddenly delivered her full broadside ; the shot cutting
Philip's rigging as if a dozen pairs of scissors had clipped
here a ratlin and there a stay.
^^ Forsyth," said Philip, who stood taking an observation
* through a spy-glass, " those guns must have been pointed
at a range of two thousand yards. That is proof positive
that the rascal wants to play this game at arm's length, so
as to leave room for running away, if discretion should
be the better part of valor. Forsyth, hold back our fire
tiU we are within half a mile or less."
440 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
A second broadside came from the rebel cruiser ; and
then a third ; the interval between them being about two-
and-a-half minutes.
^* That's quick work," said Philip, quietly. " Now it's
our turn. Forsyth ! caution fire low ! *'
The Tamaqua then bravely trembled under her own
bellowing guns, and made the enemy stagger.
The jar was felt even on the Coromandel.
'^ Capt. Chantilly," cried Barbara, agonizingly, "how
can you sit here smiling while Philip is in such peril ? /
shall go mad ! " and she clasped her hands against hei
temples.
The Good Hope, having hitherto fired solid shot, now
resorted to shell some of the hollow missiles bursting
against the chain-coated sides of the Tamaqua, driving the
chain-links into the solid wood, but not extending the
damage beyond this disfiguration.
As Capt. Lane's ship, notwithstanding the slowing of
her engines, was still moving with considerable speed east-
ward, and as the Tamaqua was steaming at nine or ten
knots westward, it was evident that the two ships, if they
continued in their present opposite courses, could remain
only a few moments broadside to broadside, and would
speedily be beyond each other's ^re.
" By the gods ! " cried Capt. Chantilly gaily, varying
his position in his chair by flinging his starboard leg over
his larboard knee, " just see how the boy is running round
under the stern of the Good Hope to rake her fore and
aft."
Capt. Lane, perceiving this danger, steered his vessel so
as to keep his broadside still parallel with the other ship.
The scene, as witnessed from the Coromandel, was pic-
turesque and exciting.
"Rodney," said Oliver, "you once had a taste for the
Just look yonder ^that's a manoeuvre that
BATTLE. 441
appeals to a cultiTated taaie. See thoae two ships chasing
one wnother rotmd and round like two kittens, each after
the other's taO."
Capt, Chantilly'a description of the manceiiYre was figu-
rati hut accurate,
The Tiimaqna's persistent attempt to get across the
enomy's stem, and the Good Hope's perpetual evasion of
this stratugem, resulted iu the two ships following each
other in a circle both ateaming round a common centre
keeping about half a mile apart and blasting each
other with broadsides as fast as their sweaty and begrimed
gunners could fulfil their fiery tasks.
A singular spectacle now presented itself.
Ill executing the circles, the two ships left their yisible
wakes not only in the water hut iu the air ; for eaeh
vessel's smoke rose above her in the form of a huge wreath
or ring,^the fumes showing different colors, being the
tints of different coals.
Wlien tbe firing became swift and close, the white and
fleecy powder-smoke which is unlike any other cloud that
ever floated over the world added its profuse festoons to
the solenm drapery with which the battle was curtaining
the sky.
" Is war so beautiful ? " remarked Barbara, who now
stood surveying the spectacle. " But, how horrible ! "
And the young maid's heart made a cannonading against
her breast, lending an inward thunder to the outward
acene.
The action consisted of successive broadsides, mainly of
shells, delivered by the rotating ships at intervals of two
or three minutes, for a space of three-quarters of an hour ;
during which time, hell seemed to have burst up through
t!ie sea, and the shining heaven to have beclouded itself in
urder to shield its holy eyes from gazing at the unholj
442 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
Philip Chantilly was inspired to a superhuman energy
and activity. He was omnipresent in his ship. Danger
has a strange respect for those who defy it. Philip
clothed himself with courage as with a crusader^s mail.
He felt anew his old faith that Barbara was his guardian
angel.
The battle was hot and short.
After the rotating ships had made fiye successive circles,
the two combatants ^though partially veiled from the
Coromandel's view by each other's smoke both bore evi-
dence that they had been fighting a battle of giants.
The Tamaqua had received .through her starboard bul-
warks a 68-pound Blakely shell, entering below the main
rigging, exploding on the quarter-deck, and wounding
three men at a pivot-gun.
A solid shot had struck her stempost early in the action,
jamming the rudder so that the strength of four men was
required at the wheel throughout the remainder of the
fight.
The top of her engine-room had been cut completely
across by a flying fragment of a shell.
The smoke-pipe showed a perforation through both sec-
tions by a missile that exploded in passing through, mak-
ing a ragged hole two feet in diameter, and carrying away
three of the chain-guys.
No spar had been shot down, yet the f oretopmast back-
stay had been snapped.
Moreover, the loosely-furled f oretopsail had been pierced
by a solid ball transversely through its matted folds, sev-
ering the ropes which bound it, so that the imprisoned
sail was set free in a moment, falling down without the
touch of a hand, and exhibiting five round holes made in
one sheet of canvas by a single shot.
The casualties to the crew were the wounding of three
ffunners and two firemen, the latter mortally.
BATTLB. 443
In the midst of the fury, Lieut. Ohantilly, while in the
act of giving an order, was smitten suddenly to the deck.
The men, as they beheld his fall, thought him killed, and
gave a general groan; but in a moment afterward he leaped
to his feet. It was then noticed that two seamen, who
had fallen with him, rose with him. They had all been
blown down by the wtud of a passing shell.
This escape was instantly accepted by the crew as a
token that their young leader's good luck would impart
itself to his ship and shipmates.
From that moment, Philip's hundred and thirty grim
dragons, reeking and smirched, fought like good devils
against bad.
The Good Hope, during the same period, ^that is, up to
the time of accomplishing her fifth and final circuit, had
apparently (as surveyed from the Coromandel) received
less injury than the Tamaqua; for the rebel's rigging
remained unscathed, her bulwarks unsplintered, and her
smoke-stack safe and sound.
But a ship's heart is not in her rigging ; it is in her hull.
The Good Hope had been pierced through the hull to the
heart. Philip's order to aim at the enemy's water-hne
had been mercilessly obeyed. Shot after shot, shell after
shell, had gone slanting thither with fatal aim.
Early in the fray a heavy ball went crashing through the
Good Hope's stern, breaking out a beam, which became
immediately entangled in thq propelling screw, threatening
to stop the ship's motive power, and to render her unman-
ageable ; but in a few minutes the buoyant water, pressing
up against the submerged beam, dislodged it from its mis-
chievous place ; and the great flanges onc,e more exerted
their powerful fins.
A shell had entered the Good Hope's coal-bunkers, ex-
ploding and filling her engine-room with litter.
An 11-inch projectile had cut its way completely through
444 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
her starboard side three feet above her water-line, followed
immediately by another shell from the same gun, striking
so nearly in the same place that the two fractures over-
lapped each other, making one doubly-gaping wound.
Her whale-boat, gig, and dingy had been knocked to
pieces.
The blade of her fan had been carried away.
One of her water-tight compartments had been ripped
open, and the fire-room flooded with water.
The havoc to the Good Hope's crew consisted of five
killed and nine wounded a slightness of casualty due to
the fact that the Tamaqua's shots, having been aimed low
at the hull, were mortal to the ship rather than to the men.
Notwithstanding all this destruction, the first sign visible
to the Coromandel that the rebel ship was suffering, was
the carrying away of her steam-pipe, followed by the
emission of clouds of steam that rose in the air to diversify
still further the interwreathing garlands of coal-fumes and
powder-smoke which crowned the two combatants with
halos in the sky.
A still more manifest sign of distress then appeared in
the hoisting of the rebel's sails, and her squaring away for
the shore : evidently hoping that with the light breeze to
assist the feeble engines whose fires the intruding water
was rapidly quenching she might yet creep so far away
from the battle as to take refuge within the neutral league
from land.
Philip, perceiving this stratagem, steered off from his
circle in a tangent shoreward steamed ahead of the Good
Hope sheered directly across her path and presented his
broadside so as once more to rake her fore and aft.
" Beautiful ! beautiful, my lad," said Oapt. Chantilly
quietly, still sitting cross-legged, and admiring the tactics
^his heart burning within him.
Before Philip could deliver his fire which, from such a
BATTLE. 445
position of adyantage, must haye gone through the enemy's
ship with a bloody horror the Good Hope struck her flag ;
and at the next moment all the guns on both sides of the
combat came to a strange hush ; which, from its sudden-
ness, seemed hardly less startling than the preyious sound.
In a few minutes the only cloud in the sky was the single
uprolling leaden-colored coil of smoke from Philip's chim-
ney ^ever fading, ever renewing emitted upward as from
Vulcan's smithy or from Pluto's fires.
The din-bewildered ears of both crews soon became
reconciled to the stillness ^which was now like the silence
with which men stand by a grave to witness a burial.
It was Indeed a deep grave that was about to open, and
a stately burial that was about to take place.
The Good Hope hove up in the wind ^her white wall
of canvas wrinkling like a curtain, and her headway
checked to a dead pause.
Her only remaining boat was then hastily lowered to
bear to her conqueror the news that the stricken ship
was fast settling and soon must sink.
Philip guessed in advance the purport of this message,
and prepared instantly for rescuing his enemy's imperiled
crew.
Just as he was stepping into one of his relief-boats, he
turned to his young colleague, who was stepping into an-
other, and said with quiet emotion,
"Forsyth, this is the chief trophy of war ^to push your
enemy into the jaws of death, and then to snatch him back
from it."
The spectators on the Coromandel were at a fever-heat
of eagerness.
'^ Is the battle done ? " asked Barbara, who could not
see why the Good Hope, with all her sails set, was not just
as formidable as ever.
" God be thanked 1 " cried Capt. Chantilly, in a ringing
446 TEICPBST-TOSSBD.
voice. He leaped np from his chair, and gave way for the
first time to his long-suppressed feeling. He seized first
Dn Vail and then old Scaw, embracing each in turn.
" Look, Rodney 1 " he exclaimed, pointing to the stag-
gering ship. ^^Look I the bird has wings enough, but she
cannot fly she is going to plunge. Do you see ? "
" She seems unmanageable I " observed Dr. VaiL
" She has not many minutes to swim I " added Oapt.
Chantilly.
^^Then, demmit," cried old Scaw, swinging his hat, and
tripping on what might be called the heavy fantastic toe,
*^ she'll 'ave hall the more leisure to sink and I 'ope Lane
will sink with her, like Pharo' in the Bed f I say,
Holiver, let's lend an 'and to save the demned coward from
drownin'."
^' See ! " exclaimed Oliver, " the Good Hope is half way
under water already she eems to have no more boats left
to lower they must all have been knocked to pieces the
men are climbing into the rigging for refuge."
Capt. Chantilly instantly ordered Eobson and Carter to
get into their boat ; and he and Dr. Vail followed.
^^0 heaven I" cried Lucy, with a moan, "the ship is
sinking ! "
The Good Hope's masts and sails soon began to slant over
slowly toward her wounded side. The vanquished ship was
pitifully poised between life and death. Her agony was
short. She gave a plunge backward, submerging her stern
and lifting her bow in the air. Then, with a mad rush to
her fate, she went down. The great ocean inumed her in
the deepest of sepulchres. She was sailing a voyage to the
bottom of the sea.
" God !" cried Barbara, "the vessel is swallowed up !"
The scene of this majestic disaster was about two miles
from the Coromandel.
The water at the spot where the Good Hope sank was
BATTLE. 447
covered with struggling men, floating spars, splinters, and
scattered fragments of the great wreck.
Lucy was so overcome with the sight that she could no
longer look at it.
^^ My dear sister," said she, *^have you Oapt. Ohantilly's
glass in your hand ? "
"Yes."
" Tell me, then ^for I cannot see ^the sunlight dazzles
me blind ^tell me if any of the men are saved."
Barbara, watching through the glass, reported to Lucy
the situation, thus :
" Dear Lucy, Philip's ship is sailing up close to the men
in the water. His little boats are all lowered one ^two-
three ^fpur. He is in one of them. I can see him quite
distinctly. He is now taking some drowning men into
his boat his sailors are dragging them in over the sides.
Philip's boat has picked up seven men ^yes, eight, nine
and now another. And there's another in the water they
can't get him on board he seems to be fighting his res-
cuers. They have now drawn this rough man into the
boat. Lucy, it is Lieut. Cammeyer I can see his
face- it is he and he refuses to be saved. There ! he has
jumped back again into the sea but Philip has caught
him by the arm and is holding him fast. Captain Chan-
tilly's boat has just gone up to Philip's help. Philip has
saved Lieut. Cammeyer again, and is putting him into
Capt. Chantilly's boat. Lucy, my father now has hold
of a man in the water. He has lifted him into the boat.
It looks like Capt. Lane yes, I am sur^ it is he. There !
Lieut. Cammeyer is trying to leap overboard again but
the men are holding him ^he cannot get away. the
traitor he is so ashamed of his treachery that he wants
to die I Lucy, Lucy, was there ever a man so base ?
I wonder how many of the poor creatures will be lost !
All the ^oats seem loaded. Some of the men have
448 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
gashes and look bloody. The boats will not hold aU the
men many of the victims are still in the water ^but they
are clinging to the sides of the boats. how strange is
war ! how very strange that men should be one moment
trying to kill each other, and the next moment be saving
the very men they have just tided to kill ! Philip's boat is
going back to the Tamaqua, and Capt. Chantilly's is com- - \
ing this way with Oapt. Lane and Lieut. Cammeyer in
it.''
Lucy Wilmerding, at the announcement of Cammeyer's
approach, requested Scarborough to assist her into the
cabin, which the old elephant did with ponderous cour-
tesy. Barbara stood gazing at the Tamaqua.
*^My brave, my noble Philip 1" she exclaimed, aposv
trophizingthat absent hero, '^ you wanted a victory, and you
have won it. You came afc first to capture a rebel prize,
and found the Coromandel instead. You then said our
old hulk was a dearer prize. Philip, in this hour of
your glory, do you remember me?''
The excited girl found her eyes filling so fast with joy-
ful tears, that her spy-glass became useless again, and she
sat down to await the apjwoaching boat.
CHAPTER XXIX.
EXIT AND ENTRANCE.
WHILE yet the oar-lblades glittered afar-ofl, Barbara
bethought herself to announce to her mother in
the cabin the boat's approach.
The agitated maid, hastening from her station at the
ship's bow, passed the spot where Beaver was killed. He
was no longer lying there. Dr. Vail had given him the
burial of sir true sailor ^in the sea.
"0 Beaver I" exclaimed his mourning mistress, "you
used to run all over this deck your feet went pattering
everywhere. How I miss you ! I intended to show you
to all the people, and say to them, 'This is Beaver my dog
^the brave dog that saved my life I ' Beaver ! / could
not save yours T'
" My dear daughter,'' said the invalid Mrs. Vail, "even
the strong are shaken by these excitements. Lucy herself
is prostrated, and has gone to your room. She has suf-
fered as much from the battle as if she had received a
wound in it."
Barbara would have pursued Lucy to her hiding-place,
had not Dr. Vail's distant yet ringing voice now come
sounding from his boat into the ship's cabin.
" Ship ahoy ! " cried he, as he came alongside the Coro-
mandel.
Scarborough threw a rope to Dr. Vail's boat and scru-
tinized the prisoners on board.
449
450 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
'* Halive or dead ? " inquired Seaw.
" One is nearly dead," replied Vail, " and the other is
trying to kill himself."
Capt. Chantilly's two captives were Lane and Cammeyer.
Lane was lying in the bottom of the boat in total un-
consciousness, having been rescued in the last stage of
drowning, his eyes now closed, and his body showing no
other sign of life than just sufficient to indicate the vital
breath.
Cammeyer, who seemed hardly more alive, except that
his eyes were open, was tightly held in the grip of Robson,
from whom he had made previous struggles to escape,
resulting in his present exhaustion.
" What a precious pair o^ willains !" cried Scaw, "but
look out there ! don*t let ^em fall sick men must be
'andled with care. Demmit, Eobson, don't scratch or
bruise that wilted white flesh.''
Capt. Scaw's hard tongue and soft heart were always
giving each other the lie.
Dr. Vail and Capt. Chantilly now lifted Lane; whom
Scarborough, bending down, received and drew up care-
fully to the deck.
"Lie there, you Hay-One scoundrel," cried the old
man, as he stretched the limp and Unconscious body
gently on the deck. " Holiver, this scamp swore a haffi-
davy, he did, that he saw his ship sink, he did. That
haffidavy stands kerrect hall but the name o' the said
sunken wessel. 1 say, Holiver, mebbe it would 'elp him to
die heasier jist to 'ave that haffidavy kerrected and the
right name put in. Wait a minute, Eobson, till I cover
his face from the sun. There ! "
The violent and benevolent Scaw accompanied these
words by taking off his gigantic blue flannel-jacket and
gently spreading it over the pallid face of a man whose
name he had sworn at every day for seventeen years.
EXIT AIS^D ENTEANCB. 451
'^ Cammeyer, desist from your struggles/' said Capt.
Chantilly ; ^^ you renew them at the risk of your life/'
Cammeyer had just regained a little strength and flung
it away again in another effort to leap overboard. So
great a weakness immediately followed in his limbs that a
sick child would haye been stronger. He made no resist-
ance. He spoke no word. He looked utterly abject, ex-
cept that a wild brightness glittered in his gray eyes.
" Bring both men down into the cabin at once," said Dr.
Vail, who instantly went forward to prepare the way.
Eobson and Carter then took up Lane, like a dead body.
Scarborough and Chantilly at the same time assisted
Cammeyer, who now rallied strength enough to walk be-
tween them.
^^ Mary,'* said Dr. Vail to his tender-hearted wife, ^^ this
is Capt. Lane he is nearly dead from drowning there's
no time to be lost."
Mrs. Vail, who had just emerged from her state-room,
was so shocked at the deathly look of the drowned man,
that she exclaimed,
" bring him at once into this room quick ! put him
on the bed."
Thus it happened that Capt. Lane, helpless as one dead,
was brought to be nursed back into life by Mary Vail in
the ^self-same room in which he had once basely left that
gentle woman to die.
^^ Take Cammeyer to No. 1," said Eodney, pointing to
the D'Arblay room.
The two men who had plotted to capture the Coroman-
del were now the old ship's prisoners.
Capt. Chantilly, leaving them under Dr. Vail's care,
promptly returned with Eobson and Carter to the Tama-
qua ; which had now closely approached the Coroman-
del, and was attempting to attach a hawser to her as the
Good Hope had done.
452 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
" Will Oapt, Lane revive ? " whispered Barbara to her
father.
^^ Yes, he has no bruise ^no wound ; but he was long
under water ; he will rally very slowly. Cammeyer is in
more danger than Lane."
^^ What, in danger of dying ?" asked Barbara.
''Yes," responded the physician ; " Cammeyer is deliri-
ous, and in the present weakness of his body he cannot
bear this ominous fever in his brain."
It was with a revived professional pride that Dr. Vail
found himself resuming his function as a physician ; and
it was with a still more profound satisfaction such as is
known only to lofty natures that he stood over the bed-
side of Capt. Lane, seeking the safety of the man who had
left him to destruction. There are few pleasures in life
greater than recompensing evil with good.
The women-^xcept Lucy, who still imprisoned herself
in Barbara's room were ceaseless in their ministrations
to Lane ; chafing his hands, holding restoratives to his
nostrils, and watching his pulse ; showing altogether an
assiduity which Capt. Scaw violently denounced and hear-
tily approved.
" Demmit," he cried, ^^ this pirate bought to be stran-
gled ; there, let me rub his feet."
Old Scaw felt that Lane had taken an unfair advantage
of him by being in distress ; and the vengeful curmudgeon
secretly determined that the wrath which he could not
visit on Lane should be wreaked on Lane's master. Sir
Eichard Wilkinson.
Lieut. Cammeyer sighed, groaned, and tossed about in
a feverish sleep.
Dr. Vail noted the motions of his face, consisting of
strange expressions, coming, going, and constantly chang-
ing.. Some were pitiful appeals others, angry frowns,
^trate man seemed personating two characters jat
EXIT AKB EKTBAKOE. 453
once one soliciting something which the other was deny-
ing.
" The best medicine for his wayward brain," thought
the physician, "would be sleep real sleep ^if he could
get it ; but this excited sleep has no rest in it."
Cammeyer's frame was relaxed, but his mind was chorded
to an extreme pitch. His vital forces, as they left his
limbs, appeared to withdraw into his brain, rendering his
faculties preternaturally active. His fine, manly body,
having been violently heated with fever, lay like a fagot
burning away in its own fire.
He smiled and scowled ^he gnashed his teeth ^he bit
his lips.
At intervals, he kept stretching forth his right hand as
if offering a gift to some imaginary person standing by ;
a gift apparently of flowers, for he frequently ejaculated
the word
"Violets I"
A ringing cheer now filled the vault of heaven sent up
from the Tamaqua's crew on successfully hitching the
hawser to the Coromandel and taking her in tow.
Barbara, whose blood tingled at this animating sound,
(for what is so cheery as a cheer ?) started to run up
stairs, but was intercepted by Lucy, who now for the first
time opened her room-door.
She beckoned Barbara to enter.
"My dear sister," asked Lucy, with great agitation,
" is Lieut. Cammeyer dead ? "
" No, Lucy, but he is worse than dead, he is out of his
wits. His mind is running wild. A little while ago he
picked his watch to pieces ^twisted the hands together
like a fly's legs ^held them up between his thumb and
forefinger ^and said, ^Take these violets 'offering them
to somebody whom he fancied standing at the foot of the
bed,"
454 TEMFB8T-T0SSEB.
'* My sweet Barbara/' said Lucy, pale as death, '* I am
rested now I will take your place as Lieut. Cammeyer's
nurse. Tell your father that I was at Scutari ^I have
heard men groan, and seen them die. it is a mournful
world, and its chief need is mercy I "
Lucy Wilmerding proposed to show mercy to Anthony
Cammeyer.
"Miss Wilmerding,'* inquired Dr. Vail, eagerly, "have
you ever nursed a miadman ? Cammeyer is crazed. He
has been holding the state-room lamp in his hands, think-
ing it lighted, and trying to blow it out. In spite of the
sunshine that streams into his window, he says it is now
midnight. He has just called for some absent person by
the name of Lucette, and wants to give her some imaginary
violets."
Lucy made no reply, but entered the sick man's cham-
ber.
The Coromandel, as soon as she was in tow of the swift
Tamaqua, began to sheer to right and left; so Oapt.
Chantilly sent a boat with several men to see if the old
ship's rusty rudder could be turned in its bed and made
to steer the wayward hulk.
Among these men was the negro, Peter Collins, assist-
ant gunner's mate.
Jezebel, who happened to observe through a cabin-
window this one dusky face among a boat's crew of
sunburnt Caucasians, said to herself with glad surprise,
" Wall, I declar ! Dat's a cullud man I Didn't know
dere was any more o' dat kind left s'posed de white folks
had cuffed and jostled and banged 'em all out o' dis
world by dis time. Dat looks like ole Bruno afore he
took to drink. What's de good book say ? ^ I am de rose
oh Rkarnn and de lily ob de walley.' "
had been so intent in watching this " black but
EXIT ANP ENTRANCE. 455
comelj " face, that she did not discover in the boat's stern
the ycung naval officer who ranked on the Tamaqua
second to Capt. Ohantilly.
Barbara now heard, first the tramping of many heavy
feet across the deck, and then the creaking of one man's
lithe footsteps flying down the cabin etaiis.
"Who comes ?" she eagerly cried her heart beating
in expectancy,
" It is I, Jason, seeking the golden fleece," responded
Philip Chantilly, " and I find it here."
Saying which, Philip audacionsly plunged his right
hand into Barbara's tresses, and immediately afterward,
outstretching both his eager arms, clasped her wildly to
his breast kissing her on her brow, her cheeks, and her
lipa in a passion of love.
Jezebel, who was starting to go upstairs, found herself
an accidental intruder on this scene.
"Lawks a-massy!" cried the astonished dame. "Is
dis what dey do in war ? Guess de war is ober. What's
de good book say ? 'Mercy and truf shall meet togedder,
and righteousness and peace shall kiss each odder.' "
" Barbara," said Philip suddenly, " is that traitor Cam-
meyer alive or dead ? My father told me of his treason
to the ship, and his treason to yon ! The dastard I Had
I suspected his villainy, I would have flung him back into
the sea ! I would have held down his cowardly head
under the water till I had seen him choke strangle-
thrice drown- and go ten times to death ! Tlie wretch ! "
And Philip clenched bis hands, and quivered with wratli.
At this moment a loud cry was heard on deck.
" Hark 1 " exclaimed Barbara, "that is Jezebel's voice.
Only a moment ago she was here in the cabin. What can
have happened to her ? "
Barbara ran to the deck, Philip following.
466 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
There are some tones of the human yoice so seldom
heard, and full of such unusual emotion, that it is im-
possible to tell at first whether they indicate despair, grief
or joy.
Jezebel's cry was one of these ; and Barbara interpreted
it as full of pain and woe.
' But this interpretation was ludicrously wrong ; for at
the next moment Barbara and Philip discovered Jezebel \
standing in a picturesque and dramatic attitude, clasping
her heavy arms round a young black man, and hugging ]
him to her breast. " i
'^Is that you, Peter Collins?'* inquired Philip, "and
do you know this woman ? "
"Yes, sir," replied the assistant gunner's mate, who still
remained a captive in the solid arms of the ancient sibyl.
" She is my mother, sir."
" wonderful ! " cried Barbara. " Dear Bel, is it true ?
Tell me speak I "
Jezebel miade no reply, but stood holding Peter Collins
in a close prison, from which (unlike the more yielding
dungeon of the original Peter for whom he was named)
there was no deliverance.
"Dear Aunt Bel," urged the impatient Barbara, ".tell i
me the truth I "
" 'Sh ! " muttered Bel, softly.
" Dear Bel," cried Barbara, " I shall not hush ^tell me."
" 'Sh ! 'Sh ! " murmured Bel.
"No," demanded Barbara; "speak, I say."
"Hush, my chillen," replied Bel, in a low but manda-
tory tone. "Don't be a makin' sich a worldly noise de
Lord is tryin' to say somefin'. Don't you hear him ? I
hab been axin' de Lord if dis yer is Pete de real Pete
my boy Pete. And blessed answer ! hark ! What's de
good book say ? ^ Woman, behold dy son ! ' "
The aged mother, with renewed conviction, and with
'
rr
EXIT AIS^D EKTBANCE. 467
reviyed affection, now locked her son still more closely in
hex gigantic arms.
"Your true name is Bamley/' observed Philip ; "how
then came it to be Collins ? "
" Because/' retorted that young man, " de Bamleys, on
de men's side, was a mis'able set. Bruno Bamley dat was
de ole man ^he nebber earned a cent for de folks. Dat
gib him a oad name. Now a bad name's 'nufE to sink a
frigate. Dat's way I changed from Bamley to Collins."
Capt. Scaw, who overheard this colloquy while assisting
the men at the rudder, now ran forward on his ponderous
tip-toes caught hold of Jezebel's hands and compelled
her to dance a few steps on deck ; a caper in which Scaw
did aU the capering, while Jezebel knew not whether to
be angry or pleased.
"Well done, Mrs. Bamley," cried her aged partner in
the dance, who now handed her back in triumph to her
son.
*^ Don't Bamley we," cried Bel, with huffy emphasis.
" I aint no Bamley no more. Didden you hear what Pete
said ? Now, what am de sense ob an ole woman like me a
stayin' named after a lazy-bones of a husband who is dead
and gone, and who never did nuffin' for his folks, when
I hab got a son like Pete. Ole Bel is agwine to be named
after dis yer boy, she is I Let me hear no more Bamleyin'
ob me in dis world. Dis ole woman am Mrs. Peter Collins.
What's de good book say ? ^ And de Lord shall write a
new name on deir forrid !'"
After Bel had been congratulated on her re-union with
her long-parted Pete, Lieut. Chantilly, who had not yet
seen either Mrs. Vail, or Rodney, or Lucy, now returned
to the cabin and received the greetings of all.
He then inquired after the condition of Lane and Cam-
meyer.
468 TBICPEST-TOSSBD. _
f
Oapt. Lane is in my room/' said Mrs. Vail; ''come
with me. He is not conscious the noise of talking will
not disturb him."
Philip took a seat at Lane's bed-side, reflecting that the
very ship which that captain had abandoned at sea was
now conyeying her deserter to land.
Mrs. Vail and Philip talked tenderly about Bosa and the
early days.
*'My dear Philip/' said she, purposely giving the con-
versation a sudden turn, '' you told me you had a sacred
feeling for the room in which you were born."
''Yes," said he, "every son owes that tribute to his
mother."
''In this room," continued Mary, "my daughter Bar-
bara was bom."
Philip rose, and bowed as in a sanctuary.
" Philip, did you not tell me, on the island, that Bar-
bara had dwelt in your thoughts for years and years ? "
"Yes."
" Now that you have seen her, does she look like the
image you had formed of her ? "
"No, she is far lovelier."
" How well do you love her ? "
"Better than life itself."
" Will you be faithful to her always ? "
"Forever and ever."
" My dear motherless boy, when my tiny Barbara was
only three days old, lying in my arms in this room, and
when I thought the Coromandel had arrived at Cape Town,
I sent word to your mother to bring you on board. You
were then a child of seven years. I meant to say* to her,
' Eosa, let us train up these children to love one another,
and to live their lives together.' That was an expectation
which I long ago thought heaven had forever thwarted.
But no heaven has never thwarted me in anything,
EXIT Aiq^D' e:n^tbance, 459
Philip, my son, my only son, as I gave Barbara to yon so
long, long ago, ^I ought to say to you now that that
I do not need to give her to you again."
Philip knelt and kissed Mrs. VaiFs hand.
His heart was full of reverence toward two mothers at
the same moment ; one on earth, the other in heaven.
Then at a turn in the talk he remarked,
" I have brought you a packet of souvenirs of my dead
mother." And he took from his pocket a red morocco
case. ^' Here is a lock of her hair ; and here is the letter
from Lucy Wilmerding which my mother saved for you
and which I promised to bring. Look at the post-mark.
It is dated August 16, 1847."
^^ Philip," said Mrs. Vail, ^^ our dear Barbara is so fond
of opening- letters that I will give her the pleasure of
breaking this seal. She has gone up stairs ^you may take
her the letter at once,"
Philip, putting it into his pocket, went to the deck,
Barbara was standing at the bow, watching the cloven
waters a sight which she never saw before ; for during
all the years of the girl's sea-faring life, the Coromandel
had drifted at a snail's pace ; but the old ship was now
going at a fine speed in a compulsory pursuit of the power-
ful gunboat, whose wheel was floundering and splashing at
a rope's length beyond the Coromandel's plunging prow.
^^0 Philip," exclaimed Barbara, ^^come and look at the
sparkling water as it dashes up. How fast we go ! The
dear old ship leaps like a dolphin."
Philip, clasping Barbara's hand, looked not at the foam-
ing waves, but at the maiden's blushing face,
^^0 Barbara," said he, "heaven knows that I am not
worthy of you no man on this poor globe could be ; but
I. love you as I love God; and by this love emboldened,
which aspires beyond its desert," (and here his voice
quivered), "0 fair maid of the sea" (and here they
460 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
both trembled), " I offer you a sailor^s heart, whose future
happiness in the wide world that lies before us will depend
on your answer to one question : Barl)ara, will you be
my wife ? "
She gave to her lover the one look which a maiden giyes
to but one man once in her lifetime, and exclaimed,
" Philip my husband !"
Haying said these few words which seemed to Barbara
wholly inadequate, yet which Philip accepted as quite suf-
ficient she wept and smiled.
Many low whispers then passed between the two lovers,
which the wind caught up and diffused like a flowery
sweetness through the earth ; just as the breath of true
love is the chief perfume of heaven itself.
^^Look, Barbara,'^ said Philip, "the sun is about to
take with him his last message to the other side of the
world. Do you know what he will say after he goes
down ? "
" Whafc ? " asked Barbara.
" He will say," replied the dear maid's lover, "that the
last thing he saw on this happy day was the happiest
sailor who ever sailed the sea."
" Philip," said she, " I have been a sailor longer than
you I have been a sailor all my life. So let me tell you
what the sun is already saying before he goes down and
see ! he grows all the brighter while he says it. He is
saying, ' That's the dear old Coromandel. Of all the fleets
and navies in the world, I know that old wreck the best.
There used to be a little brown girl on her deck, who
laughed every night and morning in my face ; and when-
ever I was hidden by clouds, the first eyes that watched
for my return were that same little maid's ; and when-
ever the pelting rains wet her fat cheeks, it was I that
came out to dry them for her. I have known many chil-
dren in my time, but never one that kept me company so
ri"'
^ EXIT AND ENTBAiq^OE. 461
many hours of the day, or so many days of the year, as
that same child. At last I missed her from the sea, and
saw her hiding away in a green island. There her true
lover found her, and he has brought her back again out
upon the same old ocean and here she is, rocking and
rolling in the same old ship ! ' Yes, Philip, that is what
the sun is now saying. But why does heaven permit
such happiness to me when it ordains such sorrow to
Lucy ? ''
At this, allusion Philip handed to Barbara the letter
which Lucy had written from London seventeen years be-
fore. Barbara opened it with eager pleasure, reading it
to herself with profound astonishment at the following
passages :
Perhaps I did not mention in my last that while we were in Berlin
(where We lived for seven months) a young American gentleman was
very attentive to papa and me. . . My papa's young friend is to
be first a midshipman, and by and by an admiral. He is tall and
splendid, and his name is Anthony Cammeyer. . . How would
that name sound for a lady ? I don't mean now dear no a long
way off in the future. (Please keep this a great secret.) . . To-
day is my sixteenth birthday. The English violet that I enclose is
one from a beautiful bunch which Anthony brought me this
morning.
^^ Philip," exclaimed Barbara, after having silently read
the letter, " I must go to Lucy at once."
Whereupon, without stopping to make any explanation
but showing great distress in her face, Barbara fled away
toward the cabin ; leaving Philip first to wonder at, and
then to follow her.
As the perplexed young man knew neither the contents
of the letter, nor the facts which the letter narrated, his
curiosity was sharpened to a feather-edge.
Lucy Wilmerding had meanwhile been in attendance '
463 TEMPEST-tOSaED.
Anthony Cammeyer, who rapidly grew weakJ
wilder in mind.
" Lacy, dear Lucy 1 " exclaimed Barbai
her where she Bat by the Leaniui; Tower,
steps of the sick man's door. " I kno
of your grief. Here is the letter yun wrote I
at Cape Town before I wae bora. I h:
in it yon say "
" Silence ! " ejaculated Lucy, turning deiith^
speaking with a tone of conimaiK^ tliiit foil n
tery on Barbara than on all the iv^-t ' Dea
added Lacy, trjring to recover luTsolf, " Lit
has been quiet for the last half Imur, lint 1
disturb his rest."
This waa a poor subterfugo on Lucy's parfcj
Barbara's silence ; and it was only ]tartially offM
that irrepressible maiden ; who now lluug her a
her sorrowing companion, and exclaimed,
"0 angel of merey ! Agatha ! Lucy I Siat
dear heart I "
This passionate exclamation by Barbiira waa i
countable enigma, both to Philip iiml lier pjirenta
But they had no time to solve the riddle ;
moment they heard a loud noise in Ciiinnicyeri
sonnding like the wrenching of the brass windcrt
from its hinges.
The deranged man immediately opened the ^^
came forth with a glaring and exciled look, LranO|
the brazen rim in his hand, stalking up and ^
cabin, and talking to himself apparently obH"''^*"^^
presence of others.
" pitifnl 1 " cried Lucy, burying her face in ^''" [
Barbara flung herself down at Lm^v's side- ., :
"What is all this mystery ?" thought Ir- VaiJ,)
ing Lucy's distress.
aJ. ."1. 1
Cfimeyer !cr*:ii-. % -.
fif liii ii6(-k s&vrii rL.\ _
^. snd he a iaj:v[^
qSITY OF MICHIQAN
)1 5 06644,4229
if^ ;.'*V"/'^:'^
ELf'v'^'
"V- " "^
ict - .
-i^ ".. ^
mt m
464 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
gazed through the thick glass out upon the sea, beckoning
as if he saw some one approach.
" Lucette ! " muttered the sick man, in a pitiful and
plaintive tone " Lucette ! " and he kept calling her
name over and oyer again his voice sinking gradually to
a mild whisper^ " Lucette ! "
Dr. Vail now resorted to a physician's stratagem, and
beckoning Barbara, said to her with a loud and command-
ing voice,
" My dear Lucette, here is Lieut. Cammeyer, who
wishes to see you. Will you speak to him ? He is wait-
ing."
Cammeyer's attention was roused by the forceful utter-
ance of these words, and as Barbara, in obedience to her
father's suggestion, stepped forth to salute the bewildered
man, he eyed her with an intense look.
*^Mr, Cammeyer," she asked, "do you know me ? Am
I not Lucette ? "
"No," he exclaimed, with a sudden and vacant laugh
^half of anger, half of ridicule : " No ha ! ha ! ^no !
Lucette has black eyes. She is sixteen. It is her birth-
day. I have brought her some violets. Where is she ?
Call her. Lucette I Lucette ! Lucett^ ! " And he
breathed forth her name as softly as if his memory of it
were sweetened by the violets with which he vras now
associating it.
Cammeyer, on showing thus a melted mood, vras allowed
his freedom from Philip's grasp.
Lucy continued to sit with her face buried in her hands.
"He is tottering," said Philip "catch him or he will
fall."
No sooner had these words escaped Philip's lips, than
Cammeyer fainted and fell to the floor.
Such a pallor instantly passed over his countenance that
Lucy, beholding the change, could no longer disguise her
EXIT AND ENTEANOE. 465
grief, but bent down beside him and lifted his head into
her lap.
The last rays of the aun were now streaming in through
both windows at the stern.
The light fell on Oammeyer's haggard face, and lent to
it a flush of life. This transformation made him appear to
Lucy as he did in his youth. She wept bitterly.
The crazed man, whose eyes had been closed, now opened
them, and fixed their gaze on the dead geranium in the
terra-ootta vase. His dull orbs brightened at the sight.
He pointed his forefinger to the dead plant and smiled.
Lucy, not knowing what he was pointing at, turned her
head to ascertain. By this movement, her face received
the level sunbeams full against it. Cammeyer caught a
glimpse of that lovely, mournful countenance. He recog-
nized, not Lucy but Lucette. Smiles played about his feat-
ures, and made him appear full of pleasure and peace.
^^Yes, sixteen," said he. "You shall have them ^I
promised to bring them. Wait. "
Summoning his feeble strength, he staggered to the
flower-vase ^plucked up the dead stalk by the roots
brought it back and offered it to Lucy, who had now
risen and was standing before him.
^^ Violets !" said he. "They are for your hair. Take
them ! "
She took the dead stalk, and in so doing, her hand
touched his ; and she found his flesh so cold and deathly
that she started back.
A corresponding shock passed at the same moment
through the trembling man, and stunned him into sanity.
Calling then into his wayward brain the little life that
remained in his fainting body, he stood erect during a few
lucid moments, and evidently recognized the real, mature,
and heart-broken woman whom he was confronting for the
last time in his life.
\
isX, ^\
ligature
of anot:^
Lucy ;
anguisli
passage \
Nighi,
ship d
In th
powerf u
cabin ; .
louder t
the exp
quicken(
way bad
At lei]"
down on
transfori
of a dea(
dishonor
watched
A few
the islan
his breas
o'^^'niun(
"as !
UNIVEHam OF MIOHIOJN ,
3SSlB0844 422
^
468 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
Both gifts are of equal preciousness, and to both givers
belong equal praise.
All night long the Coromandel the cradle of one love,
the sepulchre of another; all night long, the good old
ship ^bearing her strange burden of life and death, of
hope and despair, of faith and treachery, of honor and
ignominy ^holding thus within her narrow walls ^11 the
elements of the great world to which she was bound ; all
night long, amid the noise of the beating wheel with
which the beating of all hearts kept company, save one
that could beat no more ^the hoary hulk pursued her final
voyage, through the darkness of night and the shadow of
death, toward the golden morning and the living world.
EPILOGUE.
BEFOEE daybreak on Saturday, September 24, 1864 ;
^while the birds of Barbados were yet in their
nests asleep, and while the beacon-lights of St. Anne's
Castle and Needham's Point were still ablaze ; the Coro-
mandel, after the longest voyage that any vessel ever made
-except the endless wanderings of sunken wrecks that
drift about the bottom of the sea entered at last one of
the world's ports, dropped her anchor, and waited for
day.
It was slow in dawning ; for human wishes cannot hasten
the sun.
Meanwhile a thick sea-fog floated over the anxious
watchers on deck like the mystic future that overhung
their lives.
The Tamaqua was moored near by.
Numerous vessels lay in the channel some of com-
merce, others of war ; among which the Coromandel had
come to pursue neither the greeds of men nor the hatreds
of nations ; for her consecrated hulk, having already the
sick and the dead on board, was to remain a Marine Hospi-
tal ^to be put in holy commission as Agatha's flag-ship of
the Sisters of Mercy.
The first echo from the shore was the dismal howling of
a dog reminding the exiles how the aged Beaver, like
the archetypal patriarch who was forbidden to enter the
promised land, had died without the sight.
469
470 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
Oliver Chantilly, eager to be the first human being to
welcome Kodney Vail to the world, pushed off in the
darkness from the Tamaqua and boarded the 'Ooroman-
del : on whose ancient deck the two friends stood lock-
ed in a long embrace in token of a friendship which
had kept its faith, fulfilled its duty, and achieved its
reward.
Old John Scarborough, otherwise Scawberry, otherwise
Scaw, was unable to wait quietly for dawn, but burst out
into alternate joy and rage ; roaring forth jubilant con-
gratulations to Kodney and Oliver, and doubling his mam-
moth fist in rehearsal of the gestures with which he meant
to browbeat Sir Eichard Wilkinson a few hours later.
Jezebel, as soon as she heard the rattling anchor, hob-
bled up stairs and put her arms about the assistant gun-
ner's mate : piously reconciling herself to re-enter the
wicked world, since it offered her a career as Mre. Peter
Collins, mother of her son.
Mary Vail was hardly yet aware of the ship's arrival, but
continued ministering to Capt. Lane ; who was just
then murmuring a broken utterance of his gratitude to
that gentle woman for nursing him back to life in the
room in which he had left her to die.
Lucy Wilmerding sat watching the bier of Anthony
Camraeyer ^gazing at the closed lids to which the ex-
pected dawn could bring no li^ht. Out of the stiff, stark,
comely body, the soul which had been its only base ele-
ment had now departed, leaving the mortal remainder
stainless and pure. That which life had marred, death
had perfected. At last, with woman's love, that faileth
not, the maidenly mourner knelt beside the flower-Strewn
form, wedded it for her own, and clasped it in her arms
as a vain possession, a prostrate worshipper, bending to
a more prostrate idol, her own broken hope the most pros-
^^.rate of all.
X 'v^ .-'
. .'.
EPILOGUE. 471
Philip and Barbara stood side by side in the ship^s bow
^the place of their betrothal searching the dark east
for its firfet flush.
Never did any bridegroom bring to his bride such a
bridal-gift as Philip had in store for Barbara ; for he was
about to give her the whole world.
Into the fair maid's eyes came mists to meet the sea^s
mist ; yet her tears were not of joy for the gift, but of
love for the giver ; for she who had yearned all her life-
time to possess the world, now at last, when she was to
receive it, saw it shrink into nothingness in comparison
with that true love which is the supreme fortune of the
soul.
At length came the wished-for morning cool, blue,
and beautiful.
It brought with it the singing of birds, the firing of
salutes, the waving of flags, and the cheering of crews.
In the midst of these tokens, the exiles whose arrival
had been noised about the harbor before they left the
ship now embarked in a boat and began to glide shore-
ward for a triumphal entry into the civilized world.
Before them was the tumult of their welcome, ^with
its joys, hopes, wonders, glories, friends, home.
Behind them was the ship of their wanderings, ^fringed
with sea-grass, green as the destined memory of her name ;
lying in her new harbor quietly as in the Calms of Capri-
corn safely as in the cove of cocoa-trees sacredly as if
already moored within the hallowed shadow of the House
of Mercy.
The company stood lingering in the boat in order to
waft a prolonged and affectionate farewell to the ship ; gaz-
ing at her until she seemed to swim in the tears that filled
their fond eyes ; waving to her their hands like a flock of
flying birds ; Barbara's fair hand fluttering among then
whitest of all ^like a dove's white wing.
472 TEMPEST-TOSSED.
At last the exiles turned from the ship to the shore ;
carrying into the world the pleasant thought that what-
ever storms might gather about their own future fate,
the dear old ship, though remaining a refuge for the
weather-beaten, was herself nevermore to be Tempest-
Tossed.