The Pilot: A Tale of the SeaCooper, James Fenimore
History
The Pilot: A Tale of the Sea
Cooper, James Fenimore
Historical fiction; Sea stories; United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Naval operations -- Fiction; War stories
“He knows your prudence too well, Captain Barnstable, to fear either the
wreck of your vessel or the drowning of her crew. How near the bottom
does your keel lie?”
“I am afraid to sound,” returned Barnstable. “I have never the heart to
touch a lead-line when I see the rocks coming up to breathe like so many
porpoises.”
“You are afloat!” exclaimed the other, with a vehemence that denoted an
abundance of latent fire.
“Afloat!” echoed his friend; “ay, the little Ariel would float in air!”
As he spoke, he rose in the boat, and lifting his leathern sea-cap from
his head, stroked back the thick clusters of black locks which shadowed
his sun-burnt countenance, while he viewed his little vessel with the
complacency of a seaman who was proud of her qualities. “But it's close
work, Mr. Griffith, when a man rides to a single anchor in a place like
this, and at such a nightfall. What are the orders?”
“I shall pull into the surf and let go a grapnel; you will take Mr.
Merry into your whale-boat, and try to drive her through the breakers on
the beach.”
“Beach!” retorted Barnstable; “do you call a perpendicular rock of a
hundred feet in height a beach!”
“We shall not dispute about terms,” said Griffith, smiling, “but you
must manage to get on the shore; we have seen the signal from the land,
and know that the pilot, whom we have so long expected, is ready to come
off.”
Barnstable shook his head with a grave air, as he muttered to himself,
“This is droll navigation; first we run into an unfrequented bay that is
full of rocks, and sandpits, and shoals, and then we get off our pilot.
But how am I to know him?”
“Merry will give you the password, and tell you where to look for him.
I would land myself, but my orders forbid it. If you meet with
difficulties, show three oar-blades in a row, and I will pull in to your
assistance. Three oars on end and a pistol will bring the fire of my
muskets, and the signal repeated from the barge will draw a shot from
the ship.”
“I thank you, I thank you,” said Barnstable, carelessly; “I believe I
can fight my own battles against all the enemies we are likely to fall
in with on this coast. But the old man is surely mad, I would----”
“You would obey his orders if he were here, and you will now please to
obey mine,” said Griffith, in a tone that the friendly expression of his
eye contradicted. “Pull in, and keep a lookout for a small man in a drab
pea-jacket; Merry will give you the word; if he answer it, bring him off
to the barge.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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