The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 2, No. 14, December 1858: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and PoliticsVarious
Philosophy
The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 2, No. 14, December 1858: A Magazine of Literature, Art, and Politics
Various
American periodicals
"Between us both we managed to get the spars into some sort of a
raft-shape, so that they would float us more comfortably; and there we
watched for the morning. When that came, the sea had smoothed itself,
and the wind died away considerably,--as it does in the Mediterranean at
short notice. We looked every way for the white lateen-sails of the
coasting and fishing craft, but in vain. It grew hotter and hotter as
the sun got higher, and hope and strength began to give out. I lay down
on the raft and slept,--how long I don't know, for my first
consciousness was my friend's cry of "A ship!" I looked up, and there,
sure enough, in the northeast, was a large ship, running before the
wind, right in our direction. I suspect poor Fritzeli must have been
asleep also, that he hadn't seen her before,--for she was barely a
couple of miles off. She was apparently from Genoa or Spezzia; but the
main thing was, that she was travelling our road, and that with a will.
I tore off my shirt-sleeve at the shoulder, and waved it, while Fritzeli
held up his red sash. But it was an anxious time. On she came,--a big
frigate. We could see a commodore's pendant flying at the main, and
almost hear the steady rush of water under her black bows. Did they see
us, or not? There was no telling; a man-of-war walks the sea's roads
without taking hats off to everybody that comes along. A quiet report
goes up to the officer of the deck, a long look with a glass, and the
whole affair would be settled without troubling us to come into council.
On she came, till we could see the guns in her bow ports, and almost
count the meshes in her hammock netting. The shadow of her lofty sails
was already fallen upon us before she gave a sign of recognition. Then
her bow gave a wide sheer, and her whole broadside came into view, as
she glided by the spars where we were crouching. An officer appeared at
her quarter and waved his gold-banded cap to us, as the frigate rounded
to, to the leeward of us,--and the glorious stripes and stars blew out
clear against the hot sky. A light dingey was in the water before the
main yard had been well swung aback, and a midshipman was urging the
men, who needed no urging, to give way strong. I didn't know how weak I
had got, till they were lifting me aboard the boat. An hour after, when
I had had something to eat and was a little restored and had told my
story, the officer of the deck was relieved and came below to see me.
"'I fancy, Sir, we've just passed something of your steamer,' he
said,--'a yawlboat, bottom up, with a name on the stern which we
couldn't well make out: _Erco_ something, it looked like. Hadn't been
long in the water, I should say.'
"And that was the last of the steamer. Fritzeli and I were the sole
survivors."
THE JOLLY MARINER:
A BALLAD.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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