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
Some time before the sun set, I went aloft to take a last look at the
ocean. I do not think any desire to prolong my existence carried me up the
mast, but there was a lingering wish to look after my mate. The ocean
beamed gloriously that eventide, and I fancied that it was faintly
reflecting the gracious countenance of its divine Creator, in a smile of
beneficent love. I felt my heart soften, as I gazed around me, and I
fancied heavenly music was singing the praises of God, on the face of the
great deep. Then I knelt in the top, and prayed.
Rising, I looked at the ocean, as I supposed, for the last time. Not a
sail was anywhere to be seen. I cannot say that I felt disappointed;--I
did not expect relief from that quarter. My object was, to find my mate,
that we might die together. Slowly I raised the glass, and the horizon was
swept with deliberation. Nothing appeared. I had shut the glass, and was
about to sling it, when my eye caught the appearance of something floating
on the surface of the ocean, within a mile of the ship; well to leeward,
and ahead. I had overlooked it, in consequence of ranging above it with
the glass, in the desire to sweep the horizon. I could not be mistaken: it
was the wreck. In a moment the glass was levelled, and I assured myself of
the fact. The top was plainly visible, floating quite high above the
surface, and portions of the yards and masts were occasionally seen, as
the undulations of the ocean left them bare. I saw an object, lying
motionless across the top-rim, which I supposed to be Marble. He was
either dead or asleep.
What a revulsion of feeling came over me at this sight! A minute before,
and I was completely isolated; cut off from the rest of my species, and
resigned to a fate that seemed to command my quitting this state of being,
without further communion with mankind. Everything was changed. Here was
the companion of so many former dangers, the man who had taught me my
profession, one that I can truly say I loved, quite near me, and possibly
dying for the want of that aid which I might render! I was on deck in the
twinkling of an eye; the sheets were eased off, and the helm put up.
Obedient to my wishes, the ship fell off, and I soon got a glimpse, from
the spot where I stood, at the wheel, of the wreck a little clear of the
weather cat-head. By this time, the wind was so light, and the ship had
got to be so deep in the water, that the motion of the last was very slow.
Even with the helm up, it scarce equalled half a knot; I began to fear I
should not be able to reach my goal, after all!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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