The Water-Witch; Or, the Skimmer of the Seas: A TaleCooper, James Fenimore
General
The Water-Witch; Or, the Skimmer of the Seas: A Tale
Cooper, James Fenimore
Sea stories
There was nothing to vary the monotony of such a scene, for an hour,
but the regular rolling of a sea that was but little agitated, a few
occasional strokes of the oars, that were given in order to keep the
barge in its place, or the heavy breathing of some smaller fish of the
cetaceous kind, as it rose to the surface to inhale the atmosphere. In
no quarter of the heavens was anything visible; not even a star was
peeping out, to cheer the solitude and silence of that solitary place.
The men were nodding on the thwarts and our young sailor was about to
relinquish his design as fruitless, when suddenly a noise was heard, at
no great distance from the spot where they lay. It was one of those
sounds which would have been inexplicable to any but a seaman, but
which conveyed a meaning to the ears of Ludlow, as plain as that which
could be imparted by speech to a landsman. A moaning creak was followed
by the low rumbling of a rope, as it rubbed on some hard or distended
substance; and then succeeded the heavy flap of canvas, that, yielding
first to a powerful impulse, was suddenly checked.
“Hear ye that?” exclaimed Ludlow, a little above a whisper. “’Tis the
brigantine, gybing his main-boom! Give way, men—see all ready to lay
him aboard!”
The crew started from their slumbers; the splash of oars was heard,
and, in the succeeding moment, the sails of a vessel, gliding through
the obscurity, nearly across their course, were visible.
“Now spring to your oars, men!” continued Ludlow, with the eagerness of
one engaged in chase. “We have him to advantage, and he is ours!—a long
pull and a strong pull—steadily, boys, and together!”
The practised crew did their duty. It seemed but a moment, before they
were close upon the chase.
“Another stroke of the oars, and she is ours!” cried
Ludlow.—“Grapple!—to your arms!—away, boarders, away!”
These orders came on the ears of the men with the effect of martial
blasts. The crew shouted, the clashing of arms was heard, and the tramp
of feet on the deck of the vessel announced the success of the
enterprise. A minute of extreme activity and of noisy confusion
followed. The cheers of the boarders had been heard, at a distance; and
rockets shot into the air, from the other boats, whose crews answered
the shouts with manful lungs. The whole ocean appeared in a momentary
glow, and the roar of a gun from the Coquette added to the fracas. The
ship set several lanterns, in order to indicate her position; while
blue-lights, and other marine signals were constantly burning in the
approaching boats, as if those who guided them were anxious to
intimidate the assailed by a show of numbers.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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