第92章 THE SKETCH BOOK(3)

I shall never forget that cry! It was some time before we could putthe ship about, she was under such headway. We returned, as nearlyas we could guess, to the place where the smack had anchored. Wecruised about for several hours in the dense fog. We fired signalguns, and listened if we might hear the halloo of any survivors: butall was silent- we never saw or heard any thing of them more."I confess these stories, for a time, put an end to all my finefancies. The storm increased with the night. The sea was lashed intotremendous confusion. There was a fearful, sullen sound of rushingwaves, and broken surges. Deep called unto deep. At times the blackvolume of clouds over head seemed rent asunder by flashes of lightningwhich quivered along the foaming billows, and made the succeedingdarkness doubly terrible. The thunders bellowed over the wild waste ofwaters, and were echoed and prolonged by the mountain waves. As Isaw the ship staggering and plunging among these roaring caverns, itseemed miraculous that she regained her balance, or preserved herbuoyancy. Her yards would dip into the water: her bow was almostburied beneath the waves. Sometimes an impending surge appearedready to overwhelm her, and nothing but a dexterous movement of thehelm preserved her from the shock.

When I retired to my cabin, the awful scene still followed me. Thewhistling of the wind through the rigging sounded like funerealwailings. The creaking of the masts, the straining and groaning ofbulk-heads, as the ship labored in the weltering sea, werefrightful. As I heard the waves rushing along the sides of the ship,and roaring in my very ear it seemed as if Death were raging roundthis floating prison, seeking for his prey: the mere starting of anail, the yawning of a seam, might give him entrance.

A fine day, however, with a tranquil sea and favoring breeze, soonput all these dismal reflections to flight. It is impossible to resistthe gladdening influence of fine weather and fair wind at sea. Whenthe ship is decked out in all her canvas, every sail swelled, andcareering gayly over the curling waves, how lofty, how gallant sheappears- how she seems to lord it over the deep!

I might fill a volume with the reveries of a sea voyage, for with meit is almost a continual reverie- but it is time to get to shore.

It was a fine sunny morning when the thrilling cry of "land!" wasgiven from the mast-head. None but those who have experienced it canform an idea of the delicious throng of sensations which rush intoan American's bosom, when he first comes in sight of Europe. Thereis a volume of associations with the very name. It is the land ofpromise, teeming with every thing of which his childhood has heard, oron which his studious years have pondered.

From that time until the moment of arrival, it was all feverishexcitement. The ships of war, that prowled like guardian giantsalong the coast; the headlands of Ireland, stretching out into thechannel; the Welsh mountains, towering into the clouds; all wereobjects of intense interest. As we sailed up the Mersey, Ireconnoitred the shore with a telescope. My eye dwelt with delighton neat cottages, with their trim shrubberies and green grass plots. Isaw the mouldering ruin of an abbey overrun with ivy, and the taperspire of a village church rising from the brow of a neighboringhill- all were characteristic of England.

The tide and wind were so favorable that the ship was enabled tocome at once to the pier. It was thronged with people; some, idlelookers-on, others, eager expectants of friends or relatives. I coulddistinguish the merchant to whom the ship was consigned. I knew him byhis calculating brow and restless air. His hands were thrust into hispockets; he was whistling thoughtfully, and walking to and fro, asmall space having been accorded him by the crowd, in deference to histemporary importance. There were repeated cheerings and salutationsinterchanged between the shore and the ship, as friends happened torecognize each other. I particularly noticed one young woman of humbledress, but interesting demeanor. She was leaning forward from amongthe crowd; her eye hurried over the ship as it neared the shore, tocatch some wished-for countenance. She seemed disappointed andagitated; when I heard a faint voice call her name. It was from a poorsailor who had been ill all the voyage, and had excited the sympathyof every one on board. When the weather was fine, his messmates hadspread a mattress for him on deck in the shade, but of late hisillness had so increased, that he had taken to his hammock, and onlybreathed a wish that he might see his wife before he died. He had beenhelped on deck as we came up the river, and was now leaning againstthe shrouds, with a countenance so wasted, so pale, so ghastly, thatit was no wonder even the eye of affection did not recognize him. Butat the sound of his voice, her eye darted on his features; it read,at once, a whole volume of sorrow; she clasped her hands, uttered afaint shriek, and stood wringing them in silent agony.

All now was hurry and bustle. The meetings of acquaintances- thegreetings of friends- the consultations of men of business. I alonewas solitary and idle. I had no friend to meet, no cheering toreceive. I stepped upon the land of my forefathers- but felt that Iwas a stranger in the land.

THE END

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1819-20