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The Crater by James Fenimore Cooper

J >> James Fenimore Cooper >> The Crater




The spring passed as pleasantly as thoughts of home and Bridget would
allow, and his beds and plantations flourished to a degree that
surprised him. As for the grass, as soon as it once got root, it became
a most beneficial assistant to his plans of husbandry. Nor was it grass
alone that rewarded Mark's labours and forethought in his meadows and
pastures. Various flowers appeared in the herbage; and he was delighted
at finding a little patch of the common wild strawberry, the seed of
which had doubtless got mixed with those of the grasses. Instead of
indulging his palate with a taste of this delicious and most salubrious
fruit, Mark carefully collected it all, made a bed in his garden, and
included the cultivation of this among his other plants. He would not
disturb a single root of the twenty or thirty different shoots that he
found, all being together, and coming from the same cast of his hand
while sowing, lest it might die; but, with the seed of the fruit, he was
less chary. One thing struck Mark as singular. Thus far his garden was
absolutely free from weeds of every sort. The seed that he put into the
ground came up, and nothing else. This greatly simplified his toil,
though he had no doubt that, in the course of time, he should meet with
intruders in his beds. He could only account for this circumstance by
the facts, that the ashes of the volcano contained of themselves no
combination of the elements necessary to produce plants, and that the
manures he used, in their nature, were free from weeds.




Chapter XI.



"The globe around earth's hollow surface shakes,
And is the ceiling of her sleeping sons:
O'er devastation we blind revels keep;
While buried towns support the dancer's heel."

Young.


It was again mid-summer ere Mark Woolston had his boat ready for
launching. He had taken things leisurely, and completed his work in all
its parts, before he thought of putting the craft into the water. Afraid
of worms, he used some of the old copper on this boat, too; and he
painted her, inside and out, not only with fidelity, but with taste.
Although there was no one but Kitty to talk to, he did not forget to
paint the name which he had given to his new vessel, in her
stern-sheets, where he could always see it. She was called the "Bridget
Yardley;" and, notwithstanding the unfavourable circumstances in which
she had been put together, Mark thought she did no discredit to her
beautiful namesake, when completed. When he had everything finished,
even to mast and sails, of the last of which he fitted her with mainsail
and jib, the young man set about his preparations for getting his vessel
afloat.

There was no process by which one man could move a boat of the size of
the Bridget, while out of its proper element, but to launch it by means
of regular ways. With a view to this contingency, the keel had been laid
between the ways of the Neshamony, which were now all ready to be used.
Of course it was no great job to make a cradle for a boat, and our
boat-builder had 'wedged up,' and got the keel of his craft off the
'blocks,' within eight-and-forty hours after he had begun upon that part
of his task. It only remained to knock away the spur-shores and start
the boat. Until that instant, Mark had pursued his work on the Bridget
as mechanically and steadily as if hired by the day When, however, he
perceived that he was so near his goal, a flood of sensations came over
the young man, and his limbs trembled to a degree that compelled him to
be seated. Who could tell the consequences to which that boat might
lead? Who knew but the 'Bridget' might prove the means of carrying him
to his own Bridget, and restoring him to civilized life? At that
instant, if appeared to Mark as if his existence depended on the
launching of his boat, and he was fearful some unforeseen accident might
prevent it. He was obliged to wait several minutes in order to recover
his self-possession.

At length Mark succeeded in subduing this feeling, and he resumed his
work with most of his former self-command. Everything being ready, he
knocked away the spur-shores, and, finding the boat did not start, he
gave it a blow with a mawl. This set the mass in motion, and the little
craft slid down the ways without any interruption, until it became
water-born, when it shot out from the Reef like a duck. Mark was
delighted with his new vessel, now that it was fairly afloat, and saw
that it sat on an even keel, according to his best hopes. Of course he
had not neglected to secure it with a line, by which he hauled it in
towards the rock, securing it in a natural basin which was just large
enough for such a purpose. So great, indeed, were his apprehensions of
losing his boat, which now seemed so precious to him, that he had worked
some ringbolts out of the ship and let them into the rock, where he had
secured them by means of melted lead, in order to make fast to.

The Bridget was not more than a fourth of the size of the Neshamony,
though rather more than half as long. Nevertheless, she was a good boat;
and Mark, knowing that he must depend on sails principally to move her,
had built a short deck forward to prevent the seas from breaking aboard
her, as well as to give him a place in which he might stow away various
articles, under cover from the rain. Her ballast was breakers, filled
with fresh water, of which there still remained several in the ship. All
these, as well as her masts, sails, oars, &c., were in her when she was
launched; and that important event having taken place early in the
morning, Mark could not restrain his impatience for a cruise, but
determined to go out on the reef at once, further than he had ever yet
ventured in the dingui, in order to explore the seas around him.
Accordingly, he put some food on board, loosened his fasts, and made
sail.

The instant the boat moved ahead, and began to obey her helm, Mark felt
as if he had found a new companion. Hitherto Kitty had, in a measure,
filled this place; but a boat had been the young man's delight on the
Delaware, in his boyhood, and he had not tacked his present craft more
than two or three times, before he caught himself talking to it, and
commending it, as he would a human being. As the wind usually blew in
the same direction, and generally a good stiff breeze, Mark beat up
between the Reef and Guano Island, working round the weather end of the
former, until he came out at the anchorage of the Rancocus. After
beating about in that basin a little while, as if merely to show off the
Bridget to the ship, Mark put the former close by the wind, and stood
off in the channel by which he and Bob had brought the latter into her
present berth.

It was easy enough to avoid all such breakers as would be dangerous to a
boat, by simply keeping out of white water; but the Bridget could pass
over most of the reefs with impunity, on account of the depth of the sea
on them. Mark beat up, on short tacks, therefore, until he found the two
buoys between which he had brought the ship, and passing to windward of
them, he stood off in the direction where he expected to find the reef
over which the Rancocus had beaten. He was not long in making this
discovery. There still floated the buoy of the bower, watching as
faithfully as the seaman on his look-out! Mark ran the boat up to this
well-tried sentinel, and caught the lanyard, holding on by it, after
lowering his sails.

The boat was now moored by the buoy-rope of the ship's anchor, and it
occurred to our young man that a certain use might be made of this
melancholy memorial of the calamity that had befallen the Rancocus. The
anchor lay quite near a reef, on it indeed in one sense; and it was in
such places that fish most abounded. Fishing-tackle was in the boat, and
Mark let down a line. His success was prodigious. The fish were hauled
in almost as fast as he could bait and lower his hook, and what was
more they proved to be larger and finer than those taken at the old
fishing-grounds. By the experience of the half hour he passed at the
spot, Mark felt certain that he could fill his boat there in a day's
fishing. After hauling in some twenty or thirty, however, he cast off
from the lanyard, hoisted his sails, and crossed the reef, still working
to windward.

It was Mark's wish to learn something of the nature and extent of the
shoals in this direction. With this object in view, he continued beating
up, sometimes passing boldly through shallow water, at others going
about to avoid that which he thought might be dangerous, until he
believed himself to be about ten miles to windward of the island. The
ship's masts were his beacon, for the crater had sunk below the horizon,
or if visible at all, it was only at intervals, as the boat was lifted
on a swell, when it appeared a low hummock, nearly awash. It was with
difficulty that the naked spars could be seen at that distance; nor
could they be, except at moments, and that because the compass told the
young man exactly where to look for them.

As for the appearance of the reefs, no naked rock was anywhere to be
seen in this direction, though there were abundant evidences of the
existence of shoals. As well as he could judge, Mark was of opinion that
these shoals extended at least twenty miles in this direction, he having
turned up fully five leagues without getting clear of them. At that
distance from his solitary home, and out of sight of everything like
land, did the young man eat his frugal, but good and nourishing dinner,
with his jib-sheet to windward and the boat hove-to. The freshness of
the breeze had induced him to reef, and under that short sail, he found
the Bridget everything he could wish. It was now about the middle of the
afternoon, and Mark thought it prudent to turn out his reef, and run
down for the crater. In half an hour he caught a sight of the spars of
the ship; and ten minutes later, the Summit appeared above the horizon.

It had been the intention of our young sailor to stay out all night, had
the weather been promising. His wish was to ascertain how he might
manage the boat, single-handed, while he slept, and also to learn the
extent of the shoals. As the extraordinary fertility of the crater
superseded the necessity of his labouring much to keep himself supplied
with food, he had formed a plan of cruising off the shoals, for days at
a time, in the hope of falling in with something that was passing, and
which might carry him back to the haunts of men. No vessel would or
could come in sight of the crater, so long as the existence of the reefs
was known; but the course steered by the Rancocus was a proof that ships
did occasionally pass in that quarter of the Pacific. Mark had indulged
in no visionary hopes on this subject, for he knew he might keep in the
offing a twelvemonth and see nothing; but an additional twenty-four
hours might realize all his hopes.

The weather, however on this his first experiment, did not encourage him
to remain out the whole night. On the contrary, by the time the crater
was in sight, Mark thought he had not seen a more portentous-looking sky
since he had been on the Reef. There was a fiery redness in the
atmosphere that alarmed him, and he would have rejoiced to be at home,
in order to secure his stock within the crater. From the appearances, he
anticipated another tempest with its flood. It is true, it was not the
season when the last occurred, but the climate might admit of these
changes. The difference between summer and winter was very trifling on
that reef, and a hurricane, or a gale, was as likely to occur in the one
as in the other.

Just as the Bridget was passing the two buoys by which the ship-channel
had been marked, her sail flapped. This was a bad omen, for it betokened
a shift of wind, which rarely happened, unless it might be from six
months to six months, without being the precursor of some sort of a
storm. Mark was still two miles from the Reef, and the little wind there
was soon came ahead. Luckily, it was smooth water, and very little air
sufficed to force that light craft ahead, while there was usually a
current setting from that point towards the crater. The birds, moreover,
seemed uneasy, the air being filled with them, thousands flying over the
boat, around which they wheeled, screaming and apparently terrified. At
first Mark ascribed this unusual behaviour of his feathered neighbours
to the circumstance of their now seeing a boat for the commencement of
such an acquaintance; but, recollecting how often he had passed their
haunts, in the dingui, when they would hardly get out of the way, he
soon felt certain there must be another reason for this singular
conduct.

The sun went down in a bank of lurid fire, and the Bridget was still a
mile from the ship. A new apprehension now came over our hermit. Should
a tempest bring the wind violently from the westward, as was very likely
to be the case under actual circumstances, he might be driven out to
sea, and, did the little craft resist the waves, forced so far off as to
make him lose the Reef altogether. Then it was that Mark deeply felt how
much had been left him, by casting his lot on that beautiful and
luxuriant crater, instead of reducing him to those dregs of misery which
so many shipwrecked mariners are compelled to swallow! How much, or how
many of the blessings that he enjoyed on the Reef, would he not have
been willing to part with, that evening, in order to secure a safe
arrival at the side of the Rancocus! By the utmost care to profit by
every puff of air, and by handling the boat with the greatest skill,
this happy result was obtained, however, without any sacrifice.

About nine o'clock, and not sooner, the boat was well secured, and Mark
went into his cabin. Here he knelt and returned thanks to God, for his
safe return to a place that was getting to be as precious to him as the
love of life could render it. After this, tired with his day's work, the
young man got into his berth and endeavoured to sleep.

The fatigue of the day, notwithstanding the invigorating freshness of
the breeze, acted as an anodyne, and our young man soon forgot his
adventures and his boat, in profound slumbers. It was many hours ere
Mark awoke, and when he did, it was with a sense of suffocation. At
first he thought the ship had taken fire, a lurid light gleaming in at
the open door of the cabin, and he sprang to his feet in recollection of
the danger he ran from the magazine, as well as from being burned. But
no cracking of flames reaching his ears, he dressed hastily and went out
on the poop. He had just reached this deck, when he felt the whole ship
tremble from her truck to her keel, and a rushing of water was heard on
all sides of him, as if a flood were coming. Hissing sounds were heard,
and streams of fire, and gleams of lurid light were seen in the air. It
was a terrible moment, and one that might well induce any man to imagine
that time was drawing to its close.

Mark Woolston now comprehended his situation, notwithstanding the
intense darkness which prevailed, except in those brief intervals of
lurid light. He had felt the shock of an earthquake, and the volcano had
suddenly become active. Smoke and ashes certainly filled the air, and
our poor hermit instinctively looked towards his crater, already so
verdant and lively, in the expectation of seeing it vomit flames.
Everything there was tranquil; the danger, if danger there was, was
assuredly more remote. But the murky vapour which rendered breathing
exceedingly difficult, also obstructed the view, and prevented his
seeing where the explosion really was. For a brief space our young man
fancied he must certainly be suffocated; but a shift of wind came, and
blew away the oppressive vapour, clearing the atmosphere of its
sulphurous and most offensive gases and odours. Never did feverish
tongue enjoy the cooling and healthful draught, more than Mark rejoiced
in this change. The wind had got back to its old quarter, and the air he
respired soon became pure and refreshing. Had the impure atmosphere
lasted ten minutes longer, Mark felt persuaded he could not have
breathed it with any safety.

The light was now most impatiently expected by our young man. The
minutes seemed to drag; but, at length, the usual signs of returning day
became apparent to him, and he got on the bowsprit of the ship, as if to
meet it in its approach. There he stood looking to the eastward, eager
to have ray after ray shoot into the firmament, when he was suddenly
struck with a change in that quarter of the ocean, which at once
proclaimed the power of the effort which the earth had made in its
subterranean throes. Naked rocks appeared in places where Mark was
certain water in abundance had existed a few hours before. The sea-wall,
directly ahead of the ship, and which never showed itself above the
surface more than two or three inches, in any part of it, and that only
at exceedingly neap tides, was now not only bare for a long distance,
but parts rose ten and fifteen feet above the surrounding sea. This
proved, at once, that the earthquake had thrust upward a vast surface
of the reef, completely altering the whole appearance of the shoal! In a
word, nature had made another effort, and islands had been created, as
it might be in the twinkling of an eye.

Mark was no sooner assured of this stupendous fact, than he hurried on
to the poop, in order to ascertain what changes had occurred in and
about the crater. It had been pushed upward, in common with all the
rocks for miles on every side of it, though without disturbing its
surface! By the computation of our young man, the Reef, which previously
lay about six feet above the level of the ocean, was now fully twenty,
so many cubits having been, by one single but mighty effort of nature,
added to its stature. The planks which led from the stern of the vessel
to the shore, and which had formed a descent, were now nearly level, so
much water having left the basin as to produce this change. Still the
ship floated, enough remaining to keep her keel clear of the bottom.

Impatient to learn all, Mark ran ashore, for by this time it was broad
daylight, and hastened into the crater, with an intention to ascend at
once to the Summit. As he passed along, he could detect no change
whatever on the surface of the Reef; everything lying just as it had
been left, and the pigs and poultry were at their usual business of
providing for their own wants. Ashes, however, were strewn over the
rocks to a depth that left his footprints as distinct as they could have
been made in a light snow. Within the crater the same appearances were
observed, fully an inch of ashes covering its verdant pastures and the
whole garden. This gave Mark very little concern, for he knew that the
first rain would wash this drab-looking mantle into the earth, where it
would answer all the purposes of a rich dressing of manure.

On reaching the Summit, our young man was enabled to form a better
opinion of the vast changes which had been wrought around him, by this
sudden elevation of the earth's crust. Everywhere sea seemed to be
converted into land, or, at least, into rock. All the white water had
disappeared, and in its place arose islands of rock, or mud, or sand. A
good deal of the last was to be seen, and some quite near the Reef, as
we shall still continue to call the island of the crater. Island,
however, it could now hardly be termed. It is true that ribands of water
approached it on all sides, resembling creeks, and rivers and small
sounds; but, as Mark stood there on the Summit, it seemed to him that it
was now possible to walk for leagues, in every direction, commencing at
the crater and following the lines of reefs, and rocks, and sands, that
had been laid bare by the late upheaving. The extent of this change gave
him confidence in its permanency, and the young man had hopes that what
had thus been produced by the Providence of God would be permitted to
remain, to answer his own benevolent purposes. It certainly made an
immense difference in his own situation. The boat could still be used,
but it was now possible for him to ramble for hours, if not for days,
along the necks, and banks, and hummocks, and swales that had been
formed, and that with a dry foot. His limits were so much enlarged as to
offer something like a new world to his enterprise and curiosity.

The crater, nevertheless, was apparently about the centre of this new
creation. To the south, it is true, the eye could not penetrate more
than two or three leagues. A vast, dun-looking cloud, still covered the
sea in that direction, veiling its surface far and wide, and mingling
with the vapours of the upper atmosphere. Somewhere within this cloud,
how far or how near from him he knew not, Mark made no doubt a new
outlet to the pent forces of the inner earth was to be found, forming
another and an active crater for the exit of the fires beneath. Geology
was a science that had not made its present progress in the day of Mark
Woolston, but his education had been too good to leave him totally
without a theory for what had happened. He supposed that the internal
fires had produced so much gas, just beneath this spot, as to open
crevices at the bottom of the ocean, through which water had flowed in
sufficient quantities to create a vast body of steam, which steam had
been the immediate agent of lifting so much of the rock and land, and of
causing the earthquake. At the same time, the internal fires had acted
in concert; and following an opening, they had got so near the surface
as to force a chimney for their own exit, in the form of this new
crater, of the existence of which, from all the signs to the southward,
Mark did not entertain the smallest doubt.

This theory may have been true, in whole or in part, or it may have been
altogether erroneous. Such speculations seldom turn out to be minutely
accurate. So many unknown causes exist in so many unexpected forms, as
to render precise estimates of their effects, in cases of physical
phenomena, almost as uncertain as those which follow similar attempts at
any analysis of human motives and human conduct. The man who has been
much the subject of the conjectures and opinions of his
fellow-creatures, in this way, must have many occasions to wonder, and
some to smile, when he sees how completely those around him misjudge his
wishes and impulses. Although formed of the same substance, influenced
by the same selfishness, and governed by the same passions, in nothing
do men oftener err than in this portion of the exercise of their
intellects. The errors arise from one man's rigidly judging his fellow
by himself, and that which he would do he fancies others would do also.
This rule would be pretty safe, could we always penetrate into the wants
and longings of others, which quite as often fail to correspond closely
with our own, as do their characters, fortunes, and hopes.

At first sight, Mark had a good deal of difficulty in understanding the
predominant nature of the very many bodies of water that were to be seen
on every side of him. On the whole, there still remained almost as much
of one element as of the other, in the view; which of itself, however,
was a vast change from what had previously been the condition of the
shoals. There were large bodies of water, little lakes in extent, which
it was obvious enough must disappear under the process of evaporation,
no communication existing between them and the open ocean. But, on the
other hand, many of these sheets were sounds, or arms of the sea, that
must always continue, since they might be traced, far as eye could
reach, towards the mighty Pacific. Such, Mark was induced to believe,
was the fact with the belt of water that still surrounded, or nearly
surrounded the Reef; for, placed where he was, the young man was unable
to ascertain whether the latter had, or had not, at a particular point,
any land communication with an extensive range of naked rock, sand,
mud, and deposit, that stretched away to the westward, for leagues. In
obvious connection with this broad reach of what might be termed bare
ground, were Guano and Loam Islands; neither of which was an island any
longer, except as it was a part of the whole formation around it.
Nevertheless, our young man was not sorry to see that the channel around
the Reef still washed the bases of both those important places of
deposit, leaving it in his power to transport their valuable manures by
means of the raft, or boat.

The situation of the ship next became the matter of Mark's most curious
and interested investigation. She was clearly afloat, and the basin in
which she rode had a communication on each side, of it, with the sound,
or inlet, that still encircled the Reef. Descending to the shore, our
young mariner got into the dingui, and pulled out round the vessel, to
make a more minute examination. So very limpid was the water of that
sea, it was easy enough to discern a bright object on the bottom, at a
depth of several fathoms. There were no streams in that part of the
world to pour their deposits into the ocean, and air itself is scarce
more transparent than the pure water of the ocean, when unpolluted with
any foreign substances. All it wants is light, to enable the eye to
reach into it's mysteries for a long way. Mark could very distinctly
perceive the sand beneath the Rancocus' keel, and saw that the ship
still floated two or three feet clear of the bottom. It was near high
water, however; and there being usually a tide of about twenty inches,
it was plain enough that, on certain winds, the good old craft would
come in pretty close contact with the bottom. All expectation of ever
getting the vessel out of the basin must now be certainly abandoned,
since she lay in a sort of cavity, where the water was six or eight feet
deeper than it was within a hundred yards on each side of her.