The Crater; Or, Vulcan's Peak: A Tale of the Pacific

by James Fenimore Cooper

Mark Woolston was much too sensible a man to fall into any of the modern absurdities on the subject of equality, and a community of interests. One or two individuals, even in that day, had wished to accompany him, who were for forming an association in which all property should be shared in common, and in which nothing was to be done but that which was right. Mark had not the least objection in the world to the last proposition, and would have been glad enough to see it carried out to the letter, though he differed essentially with the applicants, as to the mode of achieving so desirable an end. He was of opinion that civilization could not exist without property, or property without a direct personal interest in both its accumulation and its preservation. They, on the other hand, were carried away by the crotchet that community-labour was better than individual labour, and that a hundred men would be happier and better off with their individualities compressed into one, than by leaving them in a hundred subdivisions, as they had been placed by nature. The theorists might have been right, had it been in their power to compress a hundred individuals into one, but it was riot. After all their efforts, they would still remain a hundred individuals, merely banded together under more restraints, and with less liberty than are common.

Of all sophisms, that is the broadest which supposes personal liberty is extended by increasing the power of the community. Individuality is annihilated in a thousand things, by the community-power that already exists in this country, where persecution often follows from a man's thinking and acting differently from his neighbours, though the law professes to protect him. The reason why this power becomes so very formidable, and is often so oppressively tyrannical in its exhibition, is very obvious. In countries where the power is in the hands of the few, public sympathy often sustains the man who resists its injustice; but no public sympathy can sustain him who is oppressed by the public itself. This oppression does not often exhibit itself in the form of law, but rather in its denial. He, who has a clamour raised against him by numbers, appeals in vain to numbers for justice, though his claim may be clear as the sun at noon-day. The divided responsibility of bodies of men prevents anything like the control of conscience, and the most ruthless wrongs are committed, equally without reflection and without remorse.

Mark Woolston had thought too much on the subject, to be the dupe of any of these visionary theories. Instead of fancying that men never knew anything previously to the last ten years of the eighteenth century, he was of the opinion of the wisest man who ever lived, that 'there was nothing new under the sun.' That 'circumstances might alter cases' he was willing enough to allow, nor did he intend to govern the crater by precisely the same laws as he would govern Pennsylvania, or Japan; but he well understood, nevertheless, that certain great moral truths existed as the law of the human family, and that they were not to be set aside by visionaries; and least of all, with impunity.

Everything connected with the colony was strictly practical. The decision of certain points had unquestionably given the governor trouble, though he got along with them pretty well, on the whole. A couple of young lawyers had desired to go, but he had the prudence to reject them. Law, as a science, is a very useful study, beyond a question; but the governor, rightly enough, fancied that his people could do without so much science for a few years longer. Then another doctor volunteered his services. Mark remembered the quarrels between his father and his father-in-law, and thought it better to die under one theory than under two. As regards a clergyman, Mark had greater difficulty. The question of sect was not as seriously debated half a century ago as it is to-day; still it was debated. Bristol had a very ancient society, of the persuasion of the Anglican church, and Mark's family belonged to it. Bridget, however, was a Presbyterian, and no small portion of the new colonists were what is called Wet-Quakers; that is, Friends who are not very particular in their opinions or observances. Now, religion often caused more feuds than anything else: still it was impossible to have a priest for every persuasion, and one ought to suffice for the whole colony. The question was of what sect should that one clergyman be? So many prejudices were to be consulted, that the governor was about to abandon the project in despair, when accident determined the point. Among Heaton's relatives was a young man of the name of Hornblower, no bad appellation, by the way, for one who had to sound so many notes of warning, who had received priest's orders from the hands of the well-known Dr. White, so long the presiding Bishop of America, and whose constitution imperiously demanded a milder climate than that in which he then lived. As respects him, it became a question purely of humanity, the divine being too poor to travel on his own account, and he was received on board the Rancocus, with his wife, his sister, and two children, that he might have the benefit of living within the tropics. The matter was fully explained to the other emigrants, who could not raise objections if they would, but who really were not disposed to do so in a case of such obvious motives. A good portion of them, probably, came to the conclusion that Episcopalian ministrations were better than none, though, to own the truth, the liturgy gave a good deal of scandal to a certain portion of their number. Reading prayers was so profane a thing, that these individuals could scarcely consent to be present at such a vain ceremony; nor was the discontent, on this preliminary point, fully disposed of until the governor once asked the principal objector how he got along with the Lord's Prayer, which was not only written and printed, but which usually was committed to memory! Notwithstanding this difficulty, the emigrants did get along with it without many qualms, and most of them dropped quietly into the habit of worshipping agreeably to a liturgy, just as if it were not the terrible profanity that some of them had imagined. In this way, many of our most intense prejudices get lost in new communications.

It is not our intention to accompany the Rancocus, day by day, in her route. She touched at Rio, and sailed again at the end of eight and forty hours. The passage round the Horn was favourable, and having got well to the westward, away the ship went for her port. One of the cows got down, and died before it could be relieved, in a gale off the cape; but no other accident worth mentioning occurred. A child died with convulsions, in consequence of teething, a few days later; but this did not diminish the number on board, as three were born the same week. The ship had now been at sea one hundred and sixty days, counting the time passed at Rio, and a general impatience to arrive pervaded the vessel. If the truth must be said, some of the emigrants began to doubt the governor's ability to find his islands again, though none doubted of their existence. The Kannakas, however, declared that they began to smell home, and it is odd enough, that this declaration, coming as it did from ignorant men who made it merely on a fanciful suggestion, obtained more credit with most of the emigrants, than all the governor's instruments and observations.

One day, a little before noon it was, Mark appeared on deck with his quadrant, and as he cleaned the glasses of the instrument, he announced his conviction that the ship would shortly make the group of the crater. A current had set him further north than he intended to go, but having hauled up to south-west, he waited only for noon to ascertain his latitude, to be certain of his position. As the governor maintained a proper distance from his people, and was not in the habit of making-unnecessary communications to them, his present frankness told for so much the more, and it produced a very general excitement in the ship. All eyes were on the look-out for land, greatly increasing the chances of its being shortly seen. The observation came at noon, as is customary, and the governor found he was about thirty miles to the northward of the group of islands he was seeking. By his calculation, he was still to the eastward of it, and he hauled up, hoping to fall in with the land well to windward. After standing on three hours in the right direction, the look-outs from the cross-trees declared no land was visible ahead. For one moment the dreadful apprehension of the group's having sunk under another convulsion of nature crossed Mark's mind, but he entertained that notion for a minute only. Then came the cry of "sail ho!" to cheer everybody, and to give them something else to think of.

This was the first vessel the Rancocus had seen since she left Rio. It was to windward, and appeared to be standing down before the wind. In an hour's time the two vessels were near enough to each other to enable the glass to distinguish objects; and the quarter-deck, on board the Rancocus, were all engaged in looking at the stranger.

"'Tis the Mermaid," said Mark to Betts, "and it's all right. Though what that craft can be doing here to windward of the islands is more than I can imagine!"

"Perhaps, sir, they's a cruising arter us," answered Bob. "This is about the time they ought to be expectin' on us; and who knows but Madam Woolston and Friend Marthy may not have taken it into their heads to come out a bit to see arter their lawful husbands?"

The governor smiled at this conceit, but continued his observations in silence.