Miles Wallingford: Sequel to "Afloat and Ashore"Cooper, James Fenimore
General
Miles Wallingford: Sequel to "Afloat and Ashore"
Cooper, James Fenimore
Merchant mariners -- Fiction; Sea stories; Seafaring life -- Fiction
I could not but admire the coolness and conduct of Marble even at that
terrific moment! In the first place, he put the helm hard down, and lashed
the wheel, the wisest thing that could be done by men in our situation.
This he did by means of that nautical instinct, which enables a seaman to
act, in the direst emergencies, almost without reflection, or, as one
closes his eyes to avoid danger to the pupils. Then he gave one glance at
the state of things in-board, running forward with the end of a rope to
throw to Diogenes, should the cook rise near the ship. By the time he was
satisfied the hope of doing anything in that way, was vain, I was on
deck, and we two stood facing each other, in the midst of the scene of
desolation and ruin that was around us. Marble caught my hand with a look
that spoke as plainly as words. It told me the joy he felt at seeing I was
spared, his determination to stick by me to the last; yet, how low were
his hopes of ultimate preservation! It was such a look as any man would be
glad to receive from a comrade in the heat of battle; nevertheless, it was
not a look that promised victory.
The situation of the ship would now have been much better than it had
been, in many respects, were it not for the wreck. All the masts forward
had gone over the lee bow, and would have lain in a sufficiently
favourable situation for a strong crew to get rid of them; but in our case
we were compelled to let things take their course. It is true, we could
cut away, and this we began to do pretty freely, but the lower-end of the
foremast lay on the forecastle, where it was grinding everything near it
to pieces, with the heaving and setting of the waves. All the bulwarks in.
that part of the ship threatened soon to be beaten down, and I felt afraid
the cat-head would be torn violently out of the ship, leaving a bad leak.
Leaks enough there were, as it was. The launch, camboose, water-casks, and
spare spars, in driving overboard, having forced out timber-heads, and
other supports, in a way to split the plank sheer, which let in the water
fast, every time the lee gunwale went under. I gave up my sugars and
coffees from the first, bringing my hopes down as low as the saving of the
ship, the instant I saw the state of the upper works.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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