Hammer and Anvil: A Novel

by Friedrich Spielhagen

CHAPTER XVI.

It was two o'clock when we re-entered the house. At the first touch of the bell Paula appeared in the hall; but the superintendent only gave her an affectionate smile and a pat on the cheek, and kept on to his chamber, whither I followed him. He did not speak to his daughter, because he could not speak. His face was of a corpse-like paleness, and deep red spots burned in the hollows of his cheeks. With a motion of his hand he asked my assistance, and I helped him to undress. As soon as he was in bed he turned his eyes upon me with a look of gratitude, and then closed them in death-like exhaustion.

I took my seat by his bedside, and could not avert my eyes from the pale, noble face. A sublime calm lay upon it; even the red spots had vanished from the cheeks; no movement betrayed that in this breast, that scarcely moved, a heart was beating, that under this lofty brow dwelt a spirit; I felt as though I was watching by a corpse.

Thus solemnly and slowly passed the hours of that night. In all my life I have never met with a stronger contrast than that of the calm face of that sleeping man with the wild fury of the storm that raged without with unabated violence. Well might he sleep; the mightiest pinion of an earthly storm could not soar to the blessed heights where his spirit was floating.

Involuntarily my thoughts recurred to the night when the smuggler, who had just become a murderer, lay wounded in my arms in that hollow in the ruin, writhing, cursing God, himself, and all the world. And that man was the brother of this? It seemed incredible that one mother could have brought forth two such different beings; that the same sun could shine on two men so unlike; and then again it seemed to me that both, the wild one and the gentle, the hater and the friend of men, were one and the same person; as if I had once already seen the pale face before me; as if it were the same face upon whose brow, pallid in death, the morning sun shone, as it rose ruddy out of the sea after that night of horror in the ruin on the cliff.

But these thoughts were but the wild fancies of one overcome by weariness. I must indeed have really slept for a while, for as I raised my head again the gray twilight was glimmering through the lowered curtains. The superintendent was still lying there as he had lain all night, his eyes closed and his white hands folded over his breast. I softly arose and crept out of the room. I had to breathe fresh air; I felt that I must try to shake off the weight that pressed upon my heart.

As I crossed the silent hall I was surprised to see that the hand of the great clock at the foot of the stairs pointed to eight. I had supposed, from the dim light, that it was not more than five or six. But as soon as I stepped out of doors, I saw why it was no lighter. The black pall which had lain over the earth in the night was now changed to a gray one--a pallid twilight, that was neither night nor day. And the fury of the storm was still unabated. As I turned the sheltering corner of the house, I had to plant myself firmly on my feet in order not to be dashed to the earth. Thus, crouching down, I made my way through the garden, now a scene of devastation. There lay trees torn up by the roots, and others broken off but a few feet from the ground. The path was strewn with branches and twigs, and the air filled with whirling leaves. Only the old plane-trees at the Belvedere still resisted the storm, and their majestic boughs were lashed wildly about by the blast. I made my way to the Belvedere, the only spot from which one could obtain a view, though but a limited one, of the stormy quarter. I feared that the old summer-house would not have been able to resist the tempest; but there it still stood--doubtless the high bastion had protected it. I hurried into it for shelter; and as I hastily threw open the door I saw Paula standing at one of the narrow windows, on the side facing the sea.

"You here, Paula?" I cried in alarm. "You here in this weather, when the house may come down at any moment!"

"How is my father?" asked Paula.

"He is sleeping," I said. "You have not slept."

I saw that by her pale cheeks and the dark circles round her eyes. She looked away from me, and pointed out of the window at which we were standing, which now was but a window-space, for the storm had blown in all the stained panes except one in one corner.

"Is that not terrible?" she said.

And it was terrible indeed. Sky and sea of a leaden gray, and between sea and sky whirling white specks like snowflakes driven by a November wind. These white specks were gulls, and their dismal cries reached us at intervals. Upon the high bastion, opposite us, the storm had beaten down the tall grass which used to nod so lightly in the wind, as flat as if heavy rollers had passed over it; and over the long, low rampart from time to time appeared streaks which at first I could not account for. Could they be the crests of waves? The thing seemed impossible. The rampart, as I knew, was more than twelve feet high, and in front of it was a wide sandy beach, on which a popular bathing-establishment had been erected. Over the rampart a glimpse of the sea might always be caught, but it was at a considerable distance; but these streaks, if they were waves, were not dancing out at sea; I saw plainly how they rose, fell, tumbled over, and beaten to foam and spray flew over the rampart. It was the surf, and the surf had risen to the crest of the rampart!

"What will come of it?" asked Paula.

It was the very question which I had asked myself yesterday evening at this identical place, though in another and very different sense. I was then only thinking of her who now stood before me, and looked up to me with large, terrified eyes; but in my spirit, confused by the sleepless night I had passed, nature and human destiny mingled inextricably together:

"Paula," I said.

She glanced up to me again.

"Paula," I repeated, and my voice trembled and my hand sought hers, "if the storm of life ever rages around you as that is raging--will you turn to me for help and protection? Will you, Paula? say!"

A bright flush reddened her pale cheeks; she drew her hand, which I did not venture to detain, out of mine.

"You are one of those good men, George, who desire to help all, and upon whom, therefore, all think they have claims."

"That is not an answer, Paula," I said.

She opened her lips to speak; but I was not to learn if the unfavorable construction I had given her words was the right one or not, for at this moment a blast smote the summer-house, tearing off the roof, and driving in the remaining sashes, that fell in shivers around us. I caught Paula around the waist and sprang with her out of the house, which fell with a crash the instant we had quitted it. Paula gave a shriek of terror, and clasped me convulsively. My heart bounded with joy when I thus held the dear maiden in my arms; but she released her hold immediately.

"What weaklings we women are, after all!" she said. "You men must think that we exist for no other purpose than to be protected by you."

As she said this there was an indignant expression in her large eyes and her brow; but her lips twitched with hardly-repressed weeping.

What was passing in her thoughts at that moment?

I did not learn this until years later.

We went--or rather, struggled--back to the house. No further word was spoken between us, nor did she take my arm, which I, for my part, did not venture to offer her. Would she have rejected the arm of another as well? I asked myself.

With a sadness that I had never felt before, I was sitting an hour later in the office. How could I work with this disquiet in my heart, with this weight upon my brain, and on such a day as this? But "first do your work, everything else will come in in its place," was the word of the superintendent, and in accordance with this word I seated myself at my work, and copied lists and examined accounts without making a single error in my figures. I had well spent my long apprenticeship: I could now say that I had learned to work.

It was noon when I went to the superintendent to place the papers I had prepared before him for his signature. When I reached the ante-room of his cabinet I stopped, for through the half-opened door I heard some one speaking within.

"It is a grand opportunity," said an unctious voice, which of late years had been less frequently heard in the superintendent's house--"a glorious time, a time of the Lord, who reveals himself in storm and tempest, to awaken the heart of sinful man from its obduracy. Let us rightly understand this time, Herr Superintendent, and not let the Lord appeal to us in vain."

"You will excuse me if I do not share your view, Herr von Krossow. I have this night had an example of the frenzy to which superstitious terror drives these wild souls. If you wish to explain to the men these phenomena of nature, I am most willing to aid you in the undertaking; but I see no advantage in a general prayer-meeting, and must therefore, I regret to say, decline to permit it."

The superintendent said this in his calm, convincing manner, but it did not seem to convince his antagonist. A brief pause succeeded, and the soft voice began again:

"I forgot to mention that the president, from whom I have just come, and to whom I imparted my intention, entirely agreed with my views, and even expressed the wish that the bells might be rung in all the churches, and the congregations assembled for prayer. He cannot fail to feel it very sensibly if here--just here--his authority is--what shall I say?--disregarded."

"I am afraid," replied the superintendent, "that many more will find themselves to-day compelled to refuse the customary respect to the authority of the president; I fear that the bells will be rung, not to call the people to the churches, but to summon them to work. Unless the storm soon abates there will be much work and hard work to do before night."

At this moment, through the roar of the storm, was audible a lamentable tone as if coming from the clouds, followed by other dismal sounds of wailing and crying, and suddenly the door leading into the hall was thrown open, and the doctor rushed breathlessly in.

"It is as we expected," he panted, hurrying past me into the superintendent's room, into which I followed him in excitement which had something better in it than mere curiosity.

"It is as we expected," he repeated, taking off his spectacles and wiping from his face the wet sand and other drift with which he was covered from head to foot. "In an hour, or two hours at most, the water will be over the rampart, unless a breach first happens, which is to be feared, in more than one place."

"What precautions are being taken?"

"They are sitting with hands in their laps--is not that enough? I hurried to the chief of police and to the president to entreat them to send every man that could use his arms to the rampart, and to order back the battalion, which marched out to parade two hours ago, because no countermand arrived--can you conceive such madness!--and is now struggling and buffeted upon the road, unless the storm has blown them all into the ditches long ago, which is more probable. Under all the circumstances they cannot be far, and would soon be back if a couple of mounted couriers were sent after them. They are more wanted here than in the ditches. All this I laid before the gentlemen. What do you suppose the chief of police answered me? He had been a soldier himself, and knew that an officer must obey his orders. It was not to be supposed that the battalion would be recalled at his request. And the president--that pretended saint--what is it? O, Herr von Krossow, you here? I am sorry that you have had to hear the opinion I have of your uncle; but it is out now, and I can neither help myself nor him. I cannot see that the sanctity is anything but a pretence, which in such a calamity talks of the judgments of God, and that it is vain to kick against the pricks."

"I shall not fail, as in duty bound, to notify my uncle of the friendly opinions which are so frankly expressed of him here," said Herr von Krossow, seizing his broad-rimmed hat with hands that trembled with rage, and hastening out of the door.

"A pleasant journey to you!" cried the pugnacious doctor, running a few steps after him, like a cock whose adversary has left him master of the arena. "A pleasant journey!" he called once more through the open door, which he then, snorting wrath and scorn, flung furiously to.

"You have lost your place here," said the superintendent, seriously.

"At all events, the fellow will know my opinion of him," crowed the doctor.

"What does that matter?" asked the superintendent. "But that you should be physician here matters much, and to me most of all. We must try to repair this in some way."

The superintendent walked up and down the room with slow steps, his hands clasped behind his back, as was his custom; the doctor stood first upon one foot and then upon the other, looking greatly ashamed and confused.

"What is it?" asked the superintendent of a turnkey, who entered at that moment with an agitated face.

"There is a crowd of people here, Herr Superintendent."

"Where?"

"At the gate."

"What kind of people?"

"Mostly from the Bridge-street, Herr Superintendent. They say they will all be drowned. And since the prison stands so much higher----"

Without a word the superintendent left the room and crossed the court. We followed. He had on a short silk coat he usually wore in the house, and was without hat or cap. As he strode on before us, the storm, which was furious in the court, dishevelled his thin, dark hair, and the ends of his long moustache fluttered like pennons in the wind.

We reached the gate which the growling porter was ordered to open. The previous evening the opening of a prison door had exhibited to me a frightful spectacle, and I now had to behold a most moving and pitiable one, which has remained no less indelibly impressed on my memory.

There were outside probably fifty persons, mostly women, some men, both old and young, and children, some even in the arms of their mothers. Nearly all were carrying in their hands, or had placed upon the ground, some of their little possessions, and these apparently the first that came to hand, caught up in haste and alarm. I saw a woman with a great wash-tub on her shoulders, which she clutched as firmly as if it would fall to pieces if let go; and a man carrying an empty bird-cage, which the wind was whirling about. The gate was no sooner open than they all rushed into the yard as if pursued by furies. The turnkey wished to oppose their entrance, but the superintendent took him by the arm.

"Let them in," he said.

We had stepped on one side, and let the mad torrent pour by us, and it now spread over the court, and in part rushed up to the door of the building.

"Halt!" cried the superintendent.

They all stopped.

"Let the women and children enter," he said, to his subordinates, "also the old and the sick. You men may go in to warm yourselves, but in ten minutes you must all be here again. This is no time for men to be sitting behind the stove."

Here came new guests through the open gate.

"Let them in--let all in!" said the superintendent.

A young woman with a child in her arms, who had rushed in after the others, went up to the superintendent and said:

"I want my husband! Why do you keep him locked up? I can't carry all the brats at once! If I don't find the rest, you may drown this one too!"

She was just going to lay the child on the ground, when she suddenly turned upon the doctor, who was standing by, pushed the child into his arms, and sprang out of the gate. The woman had wonderfully long blond hair, which had fallen loose, and as she rushed off in frantic haste it fluttered behind her in a thousand strings.

"Get rid of your little burden," said the superintendent, smiling, to the doctor. "You must take command here in my place. Look after the women and children, my friend, and see that the men are through with their dinner in a quarter of an hour; then let them come out here, all of them, without exception, but the sick."

The doctor cast an inquiring look at his chief. Suddenly a light seemed to flash across his grotesque physiognomy, and holding the wailing child close to his breast, he ran with his queer tripping steps into the house to carry out the orders he had just received.

"Stay here, George," said the superintendent to me, "and talk to the people, as thou knowest how. I shall be back in ten minutes."

He went: I remained staring after him. What was the meaning of this? For the first time he had called me thou. His eye had been steadily fixed upon me; it was not a trip of the tongue, and yet he had not spoken it intentionally; I felt this instinctively; I felt, indeed I knew, that it was because at this solemn moment the little barriers which conventional life had thrown up between us, in this man's eyes, shrivelled up into nothing. And I knew what was in his mind: I knew that he was preparing himself for a battle of life and death, and that he had gone to take farewell of his family. A shudder ran through me; my breast swelled high; I raised my head proudly.

"Good people," I said, "take courage: he will help you if a man can."

They crowded around me, bewailing their great peril; how the water had been rising since yesterday midnight at the rate of nearly a foot an hour; that had now been going on for twelve hours, and the rampart in the lowest part was only twelve or thirteen feet high; that the Bridge-street and Sweed-street next to it were but very little above the ordinary level of the sea, and if the rampart gave way, all were lost. Master-Pilot Walter, who understood these things well, had always said something would happen; but there was no money for anything of the sort--that was all spent on the bastions and casemates on the land-side.

"And they have clapped my two boys into uniform," said an old man, "and now they are out on the road and cannot help us."

"But he will," I said.

The old man looked at me incredulously.

"He is a good gentleman," he said; "every child knows that; but what can he do?"

Here the superintendent came again out of the house, and at the same time out of three several doors which opened from the different wings of the main-building streamed forth the convicts, and work-house men, about four hundred in number, all more or less stalwart men, in their gray working-jackets, the most already provided with spades, picks, axes, ropes, and whatever else likely to be of service, that they had been able to find in the establishment. The men were headed by their overseers.

Thus they came on in military order and step. "Halt! Front face!" commanded the overseers, and the men halted in three companies, steady as a battalion under arms.

"This way, men!" cried the superintendent, in a sonorous voice. The men obeyed. All eyes were fixed upon him, who stood with his head bent down as if reflecting. Suddenly he looked up, his eye flashed around the circle, and with a voice that rose strong and clear above the storm, he cried:

"Men! Each one of us has had some one hour in his life which he would give much to be able to recall. To-day a great good fortune is granted you: every one of you, whoever he may be and whatever he has done--every one of you may now buy back that hour, and become again what he once was, before God, himself, and all good men. You have been told what you are wanted for. It is to risk your lives for the lives of others--for the lives of helpless women and children! I make you no vain promises; I do not say what you are about to do will make free men of you; on the contrary, I tell you that you will return here just as you left. Neither freedom nor any other reward awaits you when the gate closes behind you this evening after your work is over--nothing but the thanks of your superintendent, a glass of stiff grog, and a comfortable rest upon your beds, such as an honest fellow deserves. Will you stand by me on these conditions? Whoever will, let him raise his right hand and give a hearty Aye!"

Four hundred right hands flew up, and from four hundred throats came the shout AYE!

At once the crowd, which had been joined by the fugitives from the town, was divided into three companies, of which Süssmilch was to command the first, I the second, and a convict named Mathes, formerly a ship-builder, and a very active, intelligent man, the third. The overseers had fallen into the ranks with the rest.

"Every man is his own overseer to-day!" said the superintendent.

Thus we marched out of the gate.

The short street upon which the principal prison-gate opened was soon traversed, but at the old and rather narrow gate at the end of the street we met with a singular resistance, which, more than anything hitherto, exhibited the might of the storm. The old gate was in fact only an open arch in the wall, and yet it took us longer to get through it than if we had had to burst heavy doors of oak plated with iron, so violently did the blast press through the narrow opening. Like a giant with hundred arms it stood without and thrust back like a helpless child each one that endeavored to force his way; only our combined exertions, holding each other's hands and clinging to the rugged surface of the arch, enabled us to force the pass. Then we hastened along the way, between the high bastion on one side and the town-fosse with the prison-buildings on the other side, until we reached the place where our help was needed.

It was that low rampart which immediately joined the bastion, over the crest of which I had so often cast a longing eye from the Belvedere towards the sea and the island. Its length was perhaps five hundred paces, and then came the harbor with its high stone breakwaters reaching far out into the sea. At the first sight I perceived why this place was exposed to such terrible peril in a storm like this. The sea, driven in by the force of the storm, was caught between the high bastion, that rested upon immense foundations of solid masonry, and the long breakwater, as in a cul-de-sac, and as it could escape on neither side, it spent all its force upon the barrier that here barred its way. If the rampart gave way, the whole lower part of the town was gone. No one could avoid seeing this who looked from the rampart into the narrow streets on the water-side, where the ridges of the roofs for the most part scarcely reached the height of the rampart, so that one could see over them into the inner harbor which lay on the opposite side of the harbor-suburb, where now the masts of the ships were swaying like reeds in the wind.

I think that I did not take more than a quarter of a minute to have a distinct comprehension of the situation as I have just described it, and indeed no more time was allowed me. My senses and feelings were too powerfully seized by the sight of the danger we had come to contend with. I, who had passed my whole life upon the coast, who had been tossed for days together by the waves in small or large craft, who had watched, from the shore at least, many a fierce storm with unwearied attention and sympathetic terror--I thought that I knew the sea; and now saw that I no more knew it than any one knows a bomb, who has not seen one explode and scatter death and destruction around. Not even in my wildest fancies had I ever approached the reality. This was not the sea which was an expanse of water forming greater and smaller waves; this was a monster, a world of monsters rushing upon us with wide-open jaws, roaring, howling, ravening for prey; it was no longer anything definite or distinguishable--the destruction of all form, of all color--chaos that had broken loose to engulf the world.

I believe there was not one of the whole company who was not similarly affected by the sight. I can see them now standing there--the four hundred as they had rushed to the crest of the rampart, with pale faces, their terrified eyes now turned upon the howling chaos, then upon their neighbors, and then upon the man who had led them here, and who alone was able to say what was to be done, what could be done.

And never had a hesitating crowd a better leader.

With the true eye of love that thoughtfully gazes into the past, I see him in so many situations, and always do I behold him noble and good; but at no moment better and nobler than in this, as he stood upon the highest point of the rampart, one arm wound round the strong flag-staff which he had hastily erected, as firm upon his weakened limbs as the bronze statue of an ancient hero! And hero-like was the look of his eye which in one glance took in the danger and the remedy; hero-like was the gesture as he raised his hand, and hero-like was the voice which in clear incisive tones gave the needful orders.

One detachment was ordered into the low streets to bring up all the empty casks, boxes and chests they could find; another to go with spades, baskets and wheelbarrows upon the bastion, where there was earth in abundance; another into the adjoining glacis with ropes and axes to fell the trees which for years had been awaiting the enemy which--though in an unlooked-for form--had now come; another into the neighboring dock-yards to summon the ship-builders to help us, and to procure, either by persuasion or force, twenty or thirty large beams which we absolutely needed. Before half an hour had elapsed, the work, so well directed, was in full activity. At one place, baskets of earth were lowered into the rents which the sea had made in the rampart; at another, posts were driven in and wattled with boughs; at another, a wall of timbers was built up. And all worked, and hurried, and dug, and shovelled, and hammered, and wheeled, and dragged great loads, with a diligence, with an energy, with a cheerful, dauntless courage, that even now the tears start to my eyes as I think of it; when I think that these were the men whom society had spurned out; the men who, perhaps for the sake of a few groschen or a childish craving, had become common thieves; the men whom I had so often, with disgust, seen sulkily slouching across the prison court to their work; the men whom the storm of yesterday, beating against the walls of their prison, had driven to a frenzy of terror. There lay the town at their feet; they might rush into it, rob, burn, and murder to their heart's content--who was to hinder them? There lay the wide world open before them; they had only to escape into it; who could restrain them? Here was a work more difficult and more toilsome than any they had ever done; who was it that compelled them to it? This was the storm before which they had yesterday trembled in its most appalling form; why did they not tremble now? Why did they go, jesting, laughing, into the very jaws of death, when they had to secure and bring in a great mast which had been drifted in from the harbor, and which the waves were driving like a battering-ram against the rampart? Why? I believe if all men answered this why as I answer it, there would no longer be masters and serfs; no longer would men sing the sad old song of the hammer that would not be an anvil, for--but wherefore answer a why that only the world's history can answer? Wherefore lay the secrets of our hearts before a world which passes by indifferent, unnoticing, or only noticing to mock!

Whoever looked on at this work--how these men let the skin be torn from their flesh and the flesh from their bones in their terrible work--did not laugh; and those who looked on were the poor people of the water-streets--women and children for the most part, for the men had to help in the work--who stood below sheltered by the rampart, and with frightened and astonished faces looked at the gray-jackets, whom they had usually only watched with timid, suspicious glances as they passed through the streets in small parties led by overseers from out-door work. To-day they were not afraid of the gray-jackets; to-day they prayed that heaven's blessing might go with the food and drink that they brought to strengthen and refresh those who were exhausted with the toil. No, they were not afraid of the four hundred; gladly would they have seen their numbers doubled and tripled.

But there were men living far out of the reach of the danger, whose lives or property were nowise at stake, and who thus were in a position acutely to feel the irregularity and illegality of these proceedings.

I remember that, one after the other, the Chief of Police von Raubach, President von Krossow, the Lieutenant General and Commandant of the Fort, his excellency Count Dankelheim, came storming our leader with entreaties, commands, threats, to place his dreaded brigade under locks and bolts again. I remember that they came together in the evening to make a combined attack, and I have still to smile when I recall the cheerful calm with which the good, brave man repelled the assault.

"What would you have, gentlemen?" he said. "Would you really prefer that hundreds should lose their lives and thousands their property, rather than that a dozen or a couple of dozen of these poor rascals should decamp and gain the liberty which they have honestly earned to-day? But I shall bring them back when the danger is over. Before that time no man shall move me from here, unless he does it by force; and happily no one of you is able to do that, gentlemen! And now, gentlemen, this interview must terminate; night is coming on; we have at most only a half hour to make our preparations for the night. I have the honor to wish you good day!"

With these words he waved his hand towards the three high functionaries, who made an extremely poor figure as they stole off, and then turned all his attention where he was needed.

Where he was needed at this moment more than ever; for just now, at the approach of night, it seemed as if the storm had rallied all its force for a last and decisive assault.

I feared that we should have to succumb; that our desperate toil of six hours was all in vain. The giant-waves no longer were hurled back; their crests were torn off and flew far over the rampart into the streets. Shrieking with terror, the crowd below fled in all directions; scarcely one among us workmen could hold his place on the summit: I saw desperate fellows, who had played with the danger hitherto, now turn pale and shake their heads, and heard them say: "It is impossible: nothing more can be done."

And now came the most terrible act in this awful drama.

A small Dutch ship which had been moored in the roadstead broke loose from her anchors and was hurled about in the frightful surf like a nutshell, now tossed aloft, now engulfed in the trough of the sea, but driven with every wave nearer the rampart we were defending. We saw the despairing gestures of the crew, who were clinging to the spars and rigging: we almost fancied that we heard their cries for help.

"Can we do nothing--nothing?" I cried, turning to the superintendent with tears of anguish in my eyes.

He shook his head sadly. "This one thing, perhaps," he said, "that when she is thrown up thus high we may try if we can grapple her so that the surf may not sweep her back. If it does not succeed they are lost, and we with them, for she will make a breach in the rampart which we cannot possibly fill. Let them drive in strong posts, George, and make fast one end of our thickest rope to them. It is but a feeble possibility; but there is still a chance. Come!"

We hastened to the spot on which the ship, now but a few hundred feet distant, was driving. The men had left the crest of the rampart, and were sheltering themselves as well as they could; but now, when they saw their leader himself take an axe in his hand, they all came up and worked with a sort of fury, compared with which all that they had hitherto done was child's play.

The posts were planted, and the rope fastened. Four of the strongest men, of whom I was one, stood upon the rampart watching the right moment.

And what we thought scarcely possible, succeeded! An enormous wave came rolling up bearing the vessel with it. The wave breaks--a deluge bursts over us, but we stand firm, clutching the posts with the grip of desperation; and as soon as we can see again, there lay the ship like a stranded whale, high upon the rampart. We spring to it; a hundred hands are busy at once making fast the ropes to the masts; a hundred others in releasing the pale men--five of them from the yards. All is done before the next wave breaks. Will it carry off our prize? It comes, and after it another, and another; but the ropes hold; each wave is weaker than the last; the fourth does not reach the crest; the fifth falls far behind. In the fearful incessant thunder, which for so many hours has been deafening our ears, there comes a sudden pause; the pennons on the rocking masts of the ships in the inner harbor, which have been flying towards the east, now droop, and then fly out to the west; the wind hauls, the storm is over, the victory is ours!

The victory is ours. Every one knows it in a moment. A cheer, that seemed as if it would never end, bursts from the throats of these rude men. They grasp each other's hands; embrace each other--Hurrah! and Hurrah! again and again!

The victory is ours; but it is dearly purchased.

When I looked for him--him whom all had to thank for all--he was no longer standing on the spot where I had seen him last. But I see the men running to the place, and I run with them; I outstrip them all, driven by a fear which gives me wings. I force my way through the assembled crowd, and find all with bowed heads gazing at a man who lies upon the ground, his head upon the knees of the old sergeant. The man is pale as death, and his lips are covered with bloody froth, and all around him the earth is drenched with fresh blood--his blood--the heart's blood of that noblest of living men.

"Is he dead?" I hear one of the men ask.

But the hero could not die yet: he has one duty more to perform. He summons me with a look, and I bend over him as he moves his lips, from which no sound now issues. But I understand him. I clasp both arms around him and raise him up. Thus he stands erect, leaning upon me, the lofty kingly form. They can all see him--the men whom he has led here and whom he is going to lead back. He glances at his hand, which hangs helpless, white as wax, at his side; I raise it, and it points in the direction of the way that we had come at noon. There is not one who dares disobey this dumb, solemn command. They assemble, fall into rank and file; the sergeant and I bear their dying leader; and thus we return in long, slow, sad procession.

Night has come on; and but a few occasional gusts rush by to remind us of the frightful day we have all passed through. The convicts are sleeping upon the pillow of a good conscience, which the superintendent had promised them. Their superintendent sleeps too, and his pillow is as soft as death in a good and great cause can make it.