The Red Rover: A Tale

by James Fenimore Cooper

“Furl away!” shouted Wilder. “Cut, if too late, work away with knives and teeth—down, every man of you, down—down for your lives, all!”

There was that in the voice of the lieutenant which sounded in the ears of his people like a supernatural cry. He had so recently witnessed a calamity similar to that which again threatened him, that perhaps his feelings lent a secret horror to the tones. A score of forms was seen descending swiftly, through an atmosphere that appeared sensible to the touch. Nor was their escape, which might be likened to the stooping of birds that dart into their nest, too earnestly pressed. Stripped of all its rigging, and already tottering under numerous wounds, the lofty and overloaded spars yielded to the mighty force of the squall, tumbling in succession towards the hull, until nothing stood but the three firmer, but shorn and nearly useless, lower masts. By far the greater number of those aloft reached the deck in time to insure their safety, though some there were too stubborn, and still too much under the sullen influence of the combat, to hearken to the words of warning. These victims of their own obstinacy were seen clinging to the broken fragments of the spars, as the “Dart,” in a cloud of foam, drove away from the spot where they floated, until their persons and their misery were alike swallowed in the distance.

“It is the hand of God!” hoarsely exclaimed the veteran Bignall, while his contracting eye drunk in the destruction of the wreck. “Mark me, Henry Ark; I will forever testify that the guns of the pirate have not brought us to this condition.”

Little disposed to seek the same miserable consolation as his Commander, Wilder exerted himself in counteracting, so far as circumstances would allow, an injury that he felt, however, at that moment to be irreparable. Amid the howling of the gust, and the fearful crashing of the thunder, with an atmosphere now lurid with the glare of lightning, and now nearly obscured by the dark canopy of vapour, and with all the frightful evidences of the fight still reeking and ghastly before their eyes, did the crew of the British cruiser prove true to themselves and to their ancient reputation. The voices of Bignall and his subordinates were heard in the tempest, uttering those mandates which long, experience had rendered familiar, or encouraging the people to their duty. But the strife of the elements was happily of short continuance The squall soon swept over the spot, leaving the currents of the trade rushing into their former channels, and a sea that was rather stilled, than agitated by the counteracting influence of the winds.

But, as one danger passed away from before the eyes of the mariners of the “Dart,” another, scarcely less to be apprehended, forced itself upon their attention, All recollection of the favours of the past, and every feeling of gratitude, was banished from the mind of Wilder, by the mountings of powerful professional pride, and that love of glory which becomes inherent in the warrior, as he gazed on the untouched and beautiful symmetry of the “Dolphin’s” spars, and all the perfect, and still underanged, order of her tackle. It seemed as if she bore a charmed fate, or that some supernatural agency had been instrumental in preserving her unharmed, amid the violence of a second hurricane. But cooler thought, and more impartial reflection, compelled the internal acknowledgment, that the vigilance and wise precautions of the remarkable individual who appeared not only to govern her movements, but to control her fortunes, had their proper influence in producing the result.

Little leisure, however, was allowed to ruminate on these changes, or to deprecate the advantage of their enemy. The vessel of the Rover had already opened many broad sheets of canvas; and, as the return of the regular breeze gave her the wind, her approach was rapid and unavoidable.

“’Fore George, Mr Ark, luck is all on the dishonest side to-day,” said the veteran, so soon as he perceived by the direction which the “Dolphin” took, that the encounter was likely to be renewed. “Send the people to quarters again, and clear away the guns; for we are likely to have another bout with the rogues.”

“I would advise a moment’s delay,” Wilder earnestly observed, when he heard his Commander issuing an order to his people to prepare to deliver their fire, the instant their enemy should come within a favourable position. “Let me entreat you to delay; we know not what may be his present intentions.”

“None shall put foot on the deck of the ‘Dart,’ without submitting to the authority of her royal master,” returned the stern old tar. “Give it to him, my men! Scatter the rogues from their guns! and let them know the danger of approaching a lion, though he should be crippled!”

Wilder saw that remonstrance was now too late for a fresh broadside was hurled from the “Dart,” to defeat any generous intentions that the Rover might entertain. The ship of the latter received the iron storm, while advancing, and immediately deviated gracefully from her course, in such a way as to prevent its repetition. Then she was seen sweeping towards the bows of the nearly helpless cruiser of the King, and a hoarse summons was heard ordering her ensign to be lowered.