The gallant bark flew along like an arrow. She soon passed the two wrecks, and, after an interval of about two hours, came in sight of the fortress, described in a former chapter, which guards the river’s mouth. The crew hardly ventured to breathe as she arrived abreast of the all-commanding castle. But, to their great relief, she encountered no molestation, but shot over the bar unscathed.
The inspirited mariners burst into a hearty hurrah at this happy deliverance; and Master Halyard, relieved from his look-out, hastened to join Hildebrand, and congratulate him on their almost miraculous escape.
To a landsman, by whom their position could not be understood, there would have seemed but small ground for congratulation. They were in the Bay of Biscay, and the wind, now unbroken by any heights, which had bordered either side of the river, blew a perfect gale. The ship, though running under bare poles, was up in the air on one side, and almost touched the water on the other; and the sea rose up beyond like a great wall. High as it was reared, one could hear it curling at the top, with a long, shrill roar; and what withheld it from at once dashing on the ship, and overwhelming it in destruction, appeared to be a singular and unfathomable mystery.
But, to the eyes of the mariners, these particulars, in reality, presented little danger. They had a good ship, a fair offing, and plenty of room; and though, of course, brighter weather would have been more welcome, their present situation was not so perilous, and gave them little serious concern.
Hildebrand resigned the helm to his mate, Tom Tarpaulin, as Halyard came up. He received that person cordially, but, after a few words’ greeting, tarried only to enjoin him to set a careful watch, and then retired to his cabin.
Worn out as he was, and with every fibre aching with fatigue, the first thought that assailed him, on fairly entering the cabin, was solicitude for Inez. Moved by this feeling, he pushed past the pantler, who sat watching on the locker, and, with a stealthy step, approached the fair sufferer’s resting-place.
She was awake, and her eyes, looking up at his approach, met his. He saw, at a glance, that she was burning with fever.
She did not offer to speak, and, after one hasty glance at her face, Hildebrand turned away, and stepped back to the pantler.
“Be vigilant!” he said to that person. “She will want a drink anon, and thou must give her something cool. I must to bed, or sink.”
With these words, he turned to the adjacent berth; and without taking off his clothes, which were perfectly dry and warm, threw himself on the bed. Thus bestowed, he tried to meditate, and to call up to his eye, in melancholy array, the several causes for sorrow and dejection which his situation embraced. But, however earnestly he sought to arouse himself, his energies were so utterly prostrated, and his frame so wearied, that his endeavours at meditation were unsuccessful, and he had hardly laid fairly down, when he was overtaken by sleep.