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The Crater by James Fenimore Cooper

J >> James Fenimore Cooper >> The Crater




All this was a proof of Mark's entire disinterestedness. He did not know
that his young bride had quite thirty thousand dollars in reversion, or
in one sense in possession, although she could derive no benefit from it
until she was of age, or married, and past her eighteenth year. This
fact her husband did not learn for several days after his marriage, when
his bride communicated it to him, with a proposal that he should quit
the sea and remain with her for life. Mark was very much in love, but
this scheme scarce afforded him the satisfaction that one might have
expected. He was attached to his profession, and scarce relished the
thought of being dependent altogether on his wife for the means of
subsistence. The struggle between love and pride was great, but Mark, at
length, yielded to Bridget's blandishments, tenderness and tears. They
could only meet at the house of Mary Bromley, the bride's-maid, but then
the interviews between them were as frequent as Mark's duty would allow.
The result was that Bridget prevailed, and the young husband went up to
Bristol and candidly related all that had passed, thus revealing, in
less than a week, a secret which it was intended should remain hid for
at least two years.

Doctor Woolston was sorely displeased, at first; but the event had that
about it which would be apt to console a parent. Bridget was not only
young, and affectionate, and beautiful, and truthful; but, according to
the standard of Bristol, she was rich. There was consolation in all
this, notwithstanding professional rivalry and personal dislikes. We are
not quite certain that he did not feel a slight gratification at the
thought of his son's enjoying the fortune which his rival had received
from his wife, and which, but for the will of the grandfather, would
have been enjoyed by that rival himself. Nevertheless, the good Doctor
did his duty in the premises. He communicated the news of the marriage
to Doctor Yardley in a very civilly-worded note, which left a fair
opening for a settlement of all difficulties, had the latter been so
pleased. The latter did not so please, however, but exploded in a
terrible burst of passion, which almost carried him off in a fit of
apoplexy.

Escaping all physical dangers, in the end, Doctor Yardley went
immediately to Philadelphia, and brought his daughter home. Both Mark
and Bridget now felt that they had offended against one of the simplest
commands of God. They had _not_ honoured their father and their mother,
and even thus early came the consciousness of their offence. It was in
Mark's power, however, to go and claim his wife, and remove her to his
father's house, notwithstanding his minority and that of Bridget. In
this last respect, the law offered no obstacle; but the discretion of
Doctor Woolston did. This gentleman, through the agency of a common
friend, had an interview with his competitor, and they talked the matter
over in a tolerably composed and reasonable temper. Both the parents, as
medical men, agreed that it would be better that the young couple should
not live together for two or three years, the very tender age of
Bridget, in particular, rendering this humane, as well as discreet.
Nothing was said of the fortune, which mollified Doctor Yardley a good
deal, since he would be left to manage it, or at least to receive the
income so long as no legal claimant interfered with his control. Elderly
gentlemen submit very easily to this sort of influence. Then, Doctor
Woolston was exceedingly polite, and spoke to his rival of a difficult
case in his own practice, as if indirectly to ask an opinion of his
competitor. All this contributed to render the interview more amicable
than had been hoped, and the parties separated, if not friends, at least
with an understanding on the subject of future proceedings.

It was decided that Mark should continue in the Rancocus for another
voyage. It was known the ship was to proceed to some of the islands of
the Pacific, in quest of a cargo of sandal-wood and beche-le-mar, for
the Chinese market, and that her next absence from home would be longer,
even, than her last. By the time the vessel returned, Mark would be of
age, and fit to command a ship himself, should it be thought expedient
for him to continue in his profession. During the period the vessel
still remained in port, Mark was to pay occasional visits to his wife,
though not to live with her; but the young couple might correspond by
letter, as often as they pleased. Such was an outline of the treaty made
between the high contracting parties.

In making these arrangements, Doctor Yardley was partly influenced by a
real paternal interest in the welfare of his daughter, who he thought
altogether too young to enter on the duties and cares of the married
life. Below the surface, however, existed an indefinite hope that
something might yet occur to prevent the consummation of this most
unfortunate union, as he deemed the marriage to be, and thus enable him
to get rid of the hateful connection altogether. How this was to happen,
the worthy doctor certainly did not know. This was because he lived in
1796, instead of in 1847. Now-a-days, nothing is easier than to separate
a man from his wife, unless it be to obtain civic honours for a
murderer. Doctor Yardley, at the present moment, would have coolly gone
to work to get up a lamentable tale about his daughter's fortune, and
youth, and her not knowing her own mind when she married, and a ship's
cabin, and a few other embellishments of that sort, when the worthy and
benevolent statesmen who compose the different legislatures of this vast
Union would have been ready to break their necks, in order to pass a
bill of divorce. Had there been a child or two, it would have made no
great difference, for means would have been devised to give the custody
of them to the mother. This would have been done, quite likely, for the
first five years of the lives of the dear little things, because the
children would naturally require a mother's care; and afterwards,
because the precocious darlings, at the mature age of seven, would
declare, in open court, that they really loved 'ma' more than they did
'pa'! To write a little plainly on a very important subject, we are of
opinion that a new name ought to be adopted for the form of government
which is so fast creeping into this country. New things require new
names; and, were Solomon now living, we will venture to predict two
things of him, viz. he would change his mind on the subject of
novelties, and he would never go to congress. As for the new name, we
would respectfully suggest that of Gossipian, in lieu of that of
Republican, gossip fast becoming the lever that moves everything in the
land. The newspapers, true to their instincts of consulting the ruling
tastes, deal much more in gossip than they deal in reason; the courts
admit it as evidence; the juries receive it as fact, as well as the law;
and as for the legislatures, let a piteous tale but circulate freely in
the lobbies, and bearded men, like Juliet when a child, as described by
her nurse, will "stint and cry, ay!" In a word, principles and proof are
in much less esteem than assertions and numbers, backed with enough of
which, anything may be made to appear as legal, or even constitutional.

But neither of our doctors entered into all these matters. It was enough
for them that the affair of the marriage was disposed of, for a time at
least, and things were permitted to drop into their ancient channels.
The intercourse between Bridget and Anne was renewed, just as if nothing
had happened, and Mark's letters to his virgin bride were numerous, and
filled with passion. The ship was 'taking in,' and he could only leave
her late on Saturday afternoons, but each Sunday he contrived to pass in
Bristol. On such occasions he saw his charming wife at church, and he
walked with her in the fields, along with Anne and a favoured admirer of
hers, of an afternoon, returning to town in season to be at his post on
the opening of the hatches, of a Monday morning.

In less than a month after the premature marriage between Mark Woolston
and Bridget Yardley, the Rancocus cleared for the Pacific and Canton.
The bridegroom found one day to pass in Bristol, and Doctor Yardley so
far pitied his daughter's distress, as to consent that the two girls
should go to town, under his own care, and see the young man off. This
concession was received with the deepest gratitude, and made the young
people momentarily very happy. The doctor even consented to visit the
ship, which Captain Crutchely, laughing, called St. Mark's chapel, in
consequence of the religious rite which had been performed on board her.
Mrs. Crutchely was there, on the occasion of this visit, attending to
her husband's comforts, by fitting curtains to his berth, and looking
after matters in general in the cabin; and divers jokes were ventured
by the honest ship-master, in making his comments on, and in giving his
opinion of the handy-work of his own consort. He made Bridget blush more
than once, though her enduring tenderness in behalf of Mark induced her
to sit out all the captain's wit, rather than shorten a visit so
precious, one moment.

The final parting was an hour of bitter sorrow. Even Mark's young heart,
manly, and much disposed to do his duty as he was, was near breaking:
while Bridget almost dissolved in tears. They could not but think how
long that separation was to last, though they did not anticipate by what
great and mysterious events it was to be prolonged. It was enough for
them, that they were to live asunder two whole years; and two whole
years appear like an age to those who have not yet lived their four
lustrums. But the final moment must and did arrive, and the young people
were compelled to tear themselves asunder, though the parting was like
that of soul and body. The bride hung on the bridegroom's neck, as the
tendril clings to its support, until removed by gentle violence.

Bridget did not give up her hold upon Mark so long as even his vessel
remained in sight. She went with Anne, in a carriage, as low as the
Point, and saw the Rancocus pass swiftly down the river, on this its
fourth voyage, bearing those in her who as little dreamed of their fate,
as the unconscious woods and metals, themselves, of which the ship was
constructed. Mark felt his heart beat, when he saw a woman's
handkerchief waving to him from the shore, and a fresh burst of
tenderness nearly unmanned him, when, by the aid of the glass, he
recognised the sweet countenance and fairy figure of Bridget. Ten
minutes later, distance and interposing objects separated that young
couple for many a weary day!

A few days at sea restored the equanimity of Mark's feelings, while the
poignant grief of Bridget did not fail to receive the solace which time
brings to sorrows of every degree and nature. They thought of each other
often, and tenderly; but, the pain of parting over, they both began to
look forward to the joys of meeting, with the buoyancy and illusions
that hope is so apt to impart to the bosoms of the young and
inexperienced. Little did either dream of what was to occur before
their eyes were to be again gladdened with the sight of their respective
forms.

Mark found in his state-room--for, in the Rancocus, the cabin was fitted
with four neat little state-rooms, one for the captain, and two for the
mates, with a fourth for the supercargo--many proofs of Bridget's love
and care. Mrs. Crutchely, herself, though so much longer experienced,
had scarcely looked after the captain's comfort with more judgment, and
certainly not with greater solicitude, than this youthful bride had
expended on her bridegroom's room. In that day, artists were not very
numerous in America, nor is it very probable that Doctor Yardley would
have permitted his daughter to take so decided a step as to sit for her
miniature for Mark's possession; but she had managed to get her profile
cut, and to have it framed, and the mate discovered it placed carefully
among his effects, when only a week out. From this profile Mark derived
the greatest consolation. It was a good one, and Bridget happened to
have a face that would tell in that sort of thing, so that the husband
had no difficulty in recognising the wife, in this little image. There
it was, with the very pretty slight turn of the head to one side, that
in Bridget was both natural and graceful. Mark spent hours in gazing at
and in admiring this inanimate shadow of his bride, which never failed
to recall to him all her grace, and nature, and tenderness and love,
though it could not convey any direct expression of her animation and
spirit.

It is said ships have no Sundays. The meaning of this is merely that a
vessel must perform her work, week-days and sabbaths, day and night, in
fair or foul. The Rancocus formed no exception to the rule, and on she
travelled, having a road before her that it would require months ere the
end of it could be found. It is not our intention to dwell on the
details of this long voyage, for two reasons. One is the fact that most
voyages to the southern extremity of the American continent are marked
by the same incidents; and the other is, that we have much other matter
to relate, that must be given with great attention to minutiae, and
which we think will have much more interest with the reader.

Captain Crutchely touched at Rio for supplies, as is customary; and,
after passing a week in that most delightful of all havens, went his
way. The passage round the Horn was remarkable neither way. It could not
be called a very boisterous one, neither was the weather unusually mild.
Ships do double this cape, occasionally, under their top-gallant-sails,
and we have heard of one vessel that did not furl her royals for several
days, while off that formidable head-land; but these cases form the
exception and not the rule. The Rancocus was under close-reefed topsails
for the better part of a fortnight, in beating to the southward and
westward, it blowing very fresh the whole time; and she might have been
twice as long struggling with the south-westerly gales, but for the
fortunate circumstance of the winds veering so far to the southward as
to permit her to lay her course, when she made a great run to the
westward. When the wind again hauled, as haul it was almost certain to
do, Captain Crutchely believed himself in a meridian that would admit of
his running with an easy bowline, on the larboard tack. No one but a
sailor can understand the effect of checking the weather-braces, if it
be only for a few feet, and of getting a weather-leach to stand without
'swigging out' on its bowline. It has much the same influence on the
progress of a ship, that an eloquent speech has on the practice of an
advocate, a great cure or a skilful operation on that of a medical man,
or a lucky hit in trade on the fortunes of the young merchant. Away all
go alike, if not absolutely with flowing sheets, easily, swiftly, and
with less of labour than was their wont. Thus did it now prove with the
good ship Rancocus. Instead of struggling hard with the seas to get
three knots ahead, she now made her six, and kept all, or nearly all,
she made. When she saw the land again, it was found there was very
little to spare, but that little sufficed. The vessel passed to windward
of everything, and went on her way rejoicing, like any other that had
been successful in a hard and severe struggle. A fortnight later, the
ship touched at Valparaiso.

The voyage of the Rancocus may now be said to have commenced in earnest.
Hitherto she had done little but make her way across the endless waste
of waters; but now she had the real business before her to execute. A
considerable amount of freight, which had been brought on account of
the Spanish government, was discharged, and the vessel filled up her
water. Certain supplies of food that was deemed useful in cases of
scurvy, were obtained, and after a delay of less than a fortnight, the
ship once more put to sea.

In the year 1796 the Pacific Ocean was by no means as familiar to
navigators as it is to-day. Cooke had made his celebrated voyages less
than twenty years before, and the accounts of them were then before the
world; but even Cooke left a great deal to be ascertained, more
especially in the way of details. The first inventor, or discoverer of
anything, usually gains a great name, though it is those who come after
him that turn his labours to account. Did we know no more of America
to-day than was known to Columbus, our knowledge would be very limited,
and the benefits of his vast enterprise still in their infancy.

Compared with its extent, perhaps, and keeping in view its ordinary
weather, the Pacific can hardly be considered a dangerous sea; but he
who will cast his eyes over its chart, will at once ascertain how much
more numerous are its groups, islands, rocks, shoals and reefs, than
those of the Atlantic. Still, the mariners unhesitatingly steered out
into its vast waters, and none with less reluctance and fewer doubts
than those of America.

For nearly two months did Captain Crutchely, after quitting Valparaiso,
hold his way into the depths of that mighty sea, in search of the
islands he had been directed to find. Sandal-wood was his aim, a branch
of commerce, by the way, which ought never to be pursued by any
Christian man, or Christian nation, if what we hear of its uses in China
be true. There, it is said to be burned as incense before idols, and no
higher offence can be committed by any human being than to be principal,
or accessory, in any manner or way, to the substitution of any created
thing for the ever-living God. In after-life Mark Woolston often thought
of this, when reflection succeeded to action, and when he came to muse
on the causes which may have led to his being the subject of the
wonderful events that occurred in connection with his own fortunes. We
have now reached a part of our narrative, however, when it becomes
necessary to go into details, which we shall defer to the commencement
of a new chapter.




Chapter III.



"God of the dark and heavy deep!
The waves lie sleeping on the sands,
Till the fierce trumpet of the storm
Hath summon'd up their thundering bands;
Then the white sails are clashed like foam,
Or hurry trembling o'er the seas,
Till calmed by thee, the sinking gale
Serenely breathes, Depart in peace."

Peabody.


The day that preceded the night of which we are about to speak, was
misty, with the wind fresh at east-south-east. The Rancocus was running
off, south-west, and consequently was going with the wind free. Captain
Crutchely had one failing, and it was a very bad one for a ship-master;
he would drink rather too much grog, at his dinner. At all other times
he might have been called a sober man; out, at dinner, he would gulp
down three or four glasses of rum and water. In that day rum was much
used in America, far more than brandy; and every dinner-table, that had
the smallest pretension to be above that of the mere labouring man, had
at least a bottle of one of these liquors on it. Wine was not commonly
seen at the cabin-table; or, if seen, it was in those vessels that had
recently been in the vine-growing countries, and on special occasions.
Captain Crutchely was fond of the pleasures of the table in another
sense. His eating was on a level with his drinking; and for pigs, and
poultry, and vegetables that would keep at sea, his ship was always a
little remarkable.

On the day in question, it happened to be the birthday of Mrs.
Crutchely, and the captain had drunk even a little more than common.
Now, when a man is in the habit of drinking rather more than is good for
him, an addition of a little more than common is very apt to upset him.
Such, a sober truth, was the case with the commander of the Rancocus,
when he left the dinner-table, at the time to which there is particular
allusion. Mark, himself, was perfectly sober. The taste of rum was
unpleasant to him, nor did his young blood and buoyant spirits crave its
effects. If he touched it at all, it was in very small quantities, and
greatly diluted with water. He saw the present condition of his
superior, therefore, with regret; and this so much the more, from the
circumstance that an unpleasant report was prevailing in the ship, that
white water had been seen ahead, during a clear moment, by a man who had
just come from aloft. This report the mate repeated to the captain,
accompanying it with a suggestion that it might be well to shorten sail,
round-to, and sound. But Captain Crutchely treated the report with no
respect, swearing that the men were always fancying they were going
ashore on coral, and that the voyage would last for ever, did he comply
with all their conceits of this nature. Unfortunately, the second-mate
was an old sea-dog, who owed his present inferior condition to his being
a great deal addicted to the practice in which his captain indulged only
a little, and he had been sharing largely in the hospitality of the
cabin that afternoon, it being his watch below. This man supported the
captain in his contempt for the rumours and notions of the crew, and
between them Mark found himself silenced.

Our young officer felt very uneasy at the account of the sailor who had
reported white water ahead, for he was one of the best men in the ship,
and altogether unlikely to say that which was not true. It being now six
o'clock in the evening, and the second-mate having taken charge of the
watch, Mark went up into the fore-top-gallant cross-trees himself, in
order to get the best look ahead that he could before the night set in.
It wanted but half an hour, or so of sunset, when the young man took his
station in the cross-trees, the royal not being set. At first, he could
discern nothing ahead, at a distance greater than a mile, on account of
the mist; but, just as the sun went below the waters it lighted up to
the westward, and Mark then plainly saw what he was perfectly satisfied
must be breakers, extending for several miles directly across the
vessel's track!

Such a discovery required decision, and the young man shouted out--

"Breakers ahead!"

This cry, coming from his first officer, startled even Captain
Crutchely, who was recovering a little from the effect of his potations,
though it was still treated with contempt by the second-mate, who had
never forgiven one as young as Mark, for getting a berth that he fancied
due to his own greater age and experience. He laughed openly at this
second report of breakers, at a point in the ocean where the chart laid
down a clear sea; but the captain knew that the charts could only tell
him what was known at the time they were made, and he felt disposed to
treat his first officer, young as he was, with more respect than the
second-mate. All hands were called in consequence, and sail was
shortened. Mark came down to assist in this duty, while Captain
Crutchely himself went aloft to look out for the breakers. They passed
each other in the top, the latter desiring his mate to bring the ship by
the wind, on the larboard tack, or with her head to the southward, as
soon as he had the sail sufficiently reduced to do so with safety.

For a few minutes after he reached the deck, Mark was fully employed in
executing his orders. Sail was shortened with great rapidity, the men
working with zeal and alarm, for they believed their messmate when the
captain had not. Although the vessel was under top-mast studding-sails
when the command to take in the canvas was given, it was not long before
Mark had her under her three topsails, and these with two reefs in them,
and the ship on an easy bowline, with her head to the southward. When
all this was done the young man felt a good deal of relief, for the
danger he had seen was ahead, and this change of course brought it
nearly abeam. It is true, the breakers were still to leeward, and
insomuch most dangerously situated but the wind did not blow strong
enough to prevent the ship from weathering them, provided time was taken
by the forelock. The Rancocus was a good, weatherly ship, nor was there
sufficient sea on to make it at all difficult for her to claw off a lee
shore. Desperate indeed is the situation of the vessel that has rocks or
sands under her lee, with the gale blowing in her teeth, and heavy seas
sending her bodily, and surely, however slowly, on the very breakers she
is struggling to avoid! Captain Crutchely had not been aloft five
minutes before he hailed the deck, and ordered Mark to send Bob Betts up
to the cross-trees. Bob had the reputation of being the brightest
look-out in the vessel, and was usually employed when land was about to
be approached, or a sail was expected to be made. He went up the
fore-rigging like a squirrel, and was soon at the captain's side, both
looking anxiously to leeward. A few minutes after the ship had hauled by
the wind, both came down, stopping in the top, however, to take one more
look to leeward.