United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Fiction
The commodore, as did my brother-officers, complimented me very much on
what I had done, but as I had been left alone, I thought very unfairly,
in my glory, I cannot say that I valued their compliments at a very high
rate. I knew that I had done my duty at all events, and that was enough
for me. Captain Luttrell, however, of his own accord agreed to remain
by the Leviathan till the morning, in the hopes of being able to get
more of her cargo out of her. Out of spirits at the loss of so many
poor fellows, and after all at having done so little, I entered the
gun-room. Supper was placed before me; I could scarcely touch it.
Getting rid of my wet clothes, I threw myself at last into my berth, and
scarcely had my head touched my pillow than I was fast asleep. Still
the thought of the Leviathan haunted me, and I continued dreaming of the
scenes I had gone through during the time I had been on board her. At
last I awoke, and, slipping on my clothes, found my way on deck. There
she lay--a dark, misty-looking object--rolling away even more violently
than before, so it seemed to me. Still she was afloat, and while she
remained above water I still had hopes of saving more of her cargo. As
I gazed at her a strange sensation came over me. I know that I began to
talk loudly and to wave my hand, and to play all sorts of antics. How
long I was doing this I do not know, when one of my brother-officers put
his hand on my shoulder and said, "You have had hard work, Hurry; bed is
the best place for you." I let him lead me below without a word of
remonstrance. It struck eight bells in the morning watch when I once
more awoke. I hurried on deck; the sky was dark and lowering--the
leaden seas tumbling about with snow-white crests, from which the foam
flew away to leeward, blown by a strong gale, which seemed every moment
increasing. We were still close to the Leviathan. I kept gazing at her
with a sort of stupid stare I dare say it looked like.
"It will not do, Hurry," said Captain Luttrell. "We must give it up. I
cannot risk your life or those of any of our people on board the old
ship again."
I was scarcely inclined to acquiesce in his remark. I wanted to make
another effort to save the ship, and regretted that I had not remained
on board all night. Just then she made two or three rolls heavier than
usual--a sea appeared suddenly to lift up her stern--she made a plunge
forward. I watched, expecting her to rise again--but no. It was her
last plunge. Like the huge monster from which she took her name, she
dived down beneath the waves; the waters washed over her decks;
gradually her masts sank till the pennant alone was to be seen streaming
upwards for an instant, till that also was drawn down to the depths of
the ocean. I could not help uttering a groan of grief, not for the
wealth which I thus saw engulfed beneath the waves, but for the
destruction of all the hopes I had been so fondly cherishing.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account