“You paint in gloomy colors, Captain Ludlow,” said the free-trader, drawing a heavy breath, in spite of all his resolution. “My experience tells me you are right, though my wishes would fain contradict you. Still, I think we have the promise of a tranquil night.”
“Tranquil for a ship, or even for a boat; but hazardous to a raft like this. You see that this top-mast already works in the cap, at each heave of the water, and as the wood loosens, our security lessens.”
“Thy council is not flattering!—Captain Ludlow, you are a seaman and a man, and I shall not attempt to trifle with your knowledge. With you, I think the danger imminent, and almost our only hope dependent on the good fortune of my brigantine.”
“Will those in her think it their duty to quit their anchorage, to come in quest of a raft whose existence is unknown to them?”
“There is hope in the vigilance of her of the sea-green mantle! You may deem this fanciful, or even worse, at such a moment; but I, who have run so many gauntlets under her favor, have faith in her fortunes. Surely, you are not a seaman, Captain Ludlow, without a secret dependence on some unseen and potent agency!”
“My dependence is placed in the agency of him who is all-potent, but never visible. If he forget us, we may indeed despair!”
“This is well, but it is not the fortune I would express. Believe me, spite of an education which teaches all you have said, and of a reason that is often too clear for folly, there is a secret reliance on hidden chances, that has been created by a life of activity and hazard, and which, if it should do nothing better, does not abandon me to despair. The omen of the light and the smile of my mistress would cheer me, spite of a thousand philosophers!”
“You are fortunate in purchasing consolation so cheaply;” returned the commander of Queen Anne, who felt a latent hope in his companion’s confidence that he would have hesitated to acknowledge. “I see but little that we can do to aid our chances, except it be to clear away all unnecessary weight, and to secure the raft as much as possible by additional lashings.”
The ‘Skimmer of the Seas’ assented to the proposal. Consulting a moment longer, on the details of their expedients, they rejoined the group near the top, in order to see them executed. As the seamen on the raft were reduced to the two people of the brigantine, Ludlow and his companion were obliged to assist in the performance of the duty.
Much useless rigging, that added to the pressure without aiding the buoyancy of the raft, was cut away; and all the boom-irons were knocked off the yards, and suffered to descend to the bottom of the ocean. By these means a great weight was taken from the raft, which in consequence floated with so much additional power to sustain those who depended on it for life. The Skimmer, accompanied by his two silent but obedient seamen, ventured along the attenuated and submerged spars to the extremity of the tapering masts, and after toiling, with the dexterity of men accustomed to deal with the complicated machinery of a ship in the darkest nights, they succeeded in releasing the two smaller masts with their respective yards, and in floating them down to the body of the wreck, or the part around the top. Here the sticks were crossed in a manner to give great additional strength and footing to the stage.