Chapter XVI

O, I have suffered
With those that I saw suffer: a brave vessel
Who had no doubt some noble creatures in her,
Dashed all to pieces!
SHAKSPEARE.

The evening, which was pronounced odious by the loungers at Sandford, closed in dark and louring over the little vessel still far distant from that port which she was endeavouring to make.

Lucy had been guilty of an imprudent piece of generosity on first coming on board. Castleton had always given her an unbounded command of money, wishing to provide against the danger of her having imbibed parsimonious inclinations from her mother. Upon their last separation, too, he had forced upon her a larger sum than usual; thinking it not unlikely that she might wish to make a present to her family, as from herself, without putting them under an obligation to him: but as Farmer Darnell had resolutely refused to receive money from her in any shape, knowing from whom the funds must be derived, she still found herself with an over-burthened purse; and, under a restless desire to give to some one, and a dislike to cause unrequited trouble, she had made a much more liberal present to be divided amongst the crew of Lord Stayinmore’s yacht, than they had previously expected, or than they afterwards merited. For, without in the least meaning to assert, that an amateur’s crew may not be the best in the world, the crew of a neglected yacht may be supposed likely to get a little disorganized. The certainty of this being their last voyage for the season, joined to the prospect of ample funds, provided for them by Lady Castleton, which they would soon be at liberty to spend at their own pleasure, determined them to make clear ship of what they yet had in store; having found out therefore that their passenger George, was something of a seaman, the helm, after having been transferred from one to the other of the crew, was at length consigned to him. George readily accepted the trust; believing from his knowledge of the local difficulties of the coast, that he could steer her with the greatest safety. But he was not a little uneasy when he saw the purpose for which this trust had been abandoned to him.

Lucy sat near the helmsman, inquiring occasionally as to their progress, which seemed to her impatience slow and tedious. George endeavoured, as far as truth permitted, to tranquillize her; but his own anxieties increased, as he watched the unclear and thickening aspect of the weather, and at the same time noted, in the excited countenances of the crew, as they occasionally peered above the hatchway, how much they were unfitting themselves for that calm and efficient assistance, which he knew must soon be required.

George’s situation was a difficult one; he could not leave the helm, nor could he vociferate all he feared, to the unconscious crew, without the danger of alarming Lucy. At length, he caught within hail one straggler from the revellers below; and whispering to him energetically the necessity of preparing to resist the danger, which was now imminent, said, “Are you already so blinded, you besotted drivellers, as not to see it yourselves? I have witnessed some stiff gales and rough weather in every part of the world; but with this wind, and the lee-shore, and the reef of rocks to weather with an ebb-tide, I never saw threaten an uglier night, or one that required more care.”

The man stood with the stupid, would-be-wise look of incipient inebriety, and said he would go and tell his messmates.

Lucy evidently saw, by George’s anxious countenance, that all was not right, and looked up to him, inquiring, as if demanding that he should not conceal from her his thoughts; but as a driving rain was just then added to the discomforts of the lowering evening, he, instead of saying any thing in confirmation of her now awakened fears, only urged that she should retire below, and not unnecessarily expose herself to the storm. But she shook her head, saying, “No, George; in my earliest dangers I was used to cling to you for protection; and it seems more natural-like to bide by you, if we are now in danger--are we, George?”

“Danger? no. There’s nothing but what such a tight built bark as this ought to ride through in safety; but nothing’s to be done without hands. If you could but call the skipper, Lucy; I cannot leave the helm, even for a moment.” Lucy rose on the instant, and, impressed with the idea of exerting herself for the common safety, she trod the rolling deck with unusual firmness and security. The sound of her voice unexpectedly calling upon them, and urging them solemnly to return to their duty, roused the besotted revellers from their orgies, and they tumbled, one after the other, upon deck, and immediately began to consider as to the best method of meeting the danger.

George, now relieved from the helm, insisted upon conveying Lucy to the cabin, where she would be more safe from the boisterous rudeness alike of the weather and of the crew. “George, I see that you think there’s danger; tell me the truth, I pray you; it will be better for me.”

“I can only repeat, that there ought to be no danger; but there are points between here and Sandford, which require steady heads, and skilful pilotage, to weather. The night, too, has set in darker than I had hoped, and there are those aboard that are not so clear as they might be; I certainly fear that, with this wind, we shall not get any more sea-room. But the best safeguard is, that no one should stand idle, whose hand and head are alike steady; so I must leave you, Lucy.”

“One moment, George; if the worst should happen; that is, if the ship should go down, think not of me. You, a man, active, and an excellent swimmer, might easily save yourself. As for me, though I would not sinfully hasten my end, believe me I feel still less disposed to avoid it; for I should not in the least regret to die.”

“No, Lucy; the first instinct of my nature was to assist you, and I should now selfishly bless the danger that gave me an unlooked-for opportunity of either dying with you, or being the means of your salvation.”

“But if to save me be beyond your power, then take this little watch to my husband. Tell him that he tossed it to me carelessly before he loved me; that I valued it as a relic, after he had ceased to love me, and that only with the prospect of impending death did I part with it. No, not even yet will I do so; it will be more proper to keep it till the last,” said she, checking herself, and again hanging it round her neck, and pressing it to her heart. “But, haste, you’re wanted, George;” as a discordant cry for him was heard from the crew above.

“Where are we, Sir?” eagerly asked several voices together.

“Why, fools, dolts, lubbers,” cried George, indignant, and at the same time alarmed, “by the bearing of those two lights, we should be as near as possible over Sunken-Spike Head.”

“No more a lubber than yourself; and we’re no more there than we are in hell,” answered the offended skipper. But before the words had well passed his lips, the violence of a sudden shock laid the greater part of the already unsteady crew prostrate on the deck; and the rest, thus completely sobered, too surely knew, from the pointed form of the hidden rock, that an incurable leak must be sprung.

“The boat--the boat,” was the immediate cry. The boat was soon lowered, and Lucy, almost unconscious, was carried into it by George. The crew followed immediately, but in much greater numbers than so small a bark could possibly hold, with any prospect of escape to the passengers. But all remonstrance on this subject was rendered unavailing; for whilst in this state, the boat was raised for an instant on the surface of an enormous breaker, then dashed with overpowering force against the side of the vessel; and it being thus completely swamped, every one endeavoured to provide for his own safety as best he might. George, supporting Lucy on one arm, and maintaining his hold of a stray plank with the other, was left at the mercy of the contending billows.