Jack in the Forecastle; or, Incidents in the Early Life of Hawser Martingale

by John Sherburne Sleeper

This cape is well known as the southern extremity of Nova Scotia, a dangerous point, on which, notwithstanding the lighthouse on its extremity, many vessels have been wrecked, and a countless number of lives have been lost. The fog again gathered around the brig soon after the sun had passed the meridian, and became so dense that for several hour it was impossible to perceive any object, even at the distance of twenty yards from the vessel. But Captain Allen, confident in the correctness of his latitude by observation, manifested no anxiety, and kept the brig on her course, without ordering any particular lookout, which, indeed, would hardly have been of use, or using the lead.

There was a steady breeze, and the brig was going through the water at the rate of six or seven knots, when, just as the shades of evening began to fall, the thick curtain, which had hitherto surrounded us on every side, was suddenly lifted. The fog vanished as if at the will of an enchanter; and, to the consternation of Captain Allen and every person on board, we discovered craggy ledges of rock rising out of the water directly ahead and on either side, and not a quarter of a mile off!

We were running directly on Cape Sable. It was a narrow escape. The brig was immediately put round on the other tack, and we clawed off from the land with all possible speed, shuddering at the idea of the dangers which in the fog-darkness had surrounded us, and truly grateful for our preservation.

The fogs on our coast are a great impediment in the way of navigation. They screen from view the lighthouses in the night, and the headlands in the daytime, and are often the cause of perplexity and dismay even to the most skilful navigator, and have led to the destruction of thousands of vessels. The philosopher, who, stimulated by the spirit which led Professor Espy to attempt to control the storms, change the density of the atmosphere, and produce rain in times of drought, should succeed in placing in the hands of the navigator the means of dispelling fogs at will when navigating a dangerous coast, would indeed be a benefactor to sailors, and deserve the richest tribute of gratitude.

As we approached the shores of Massachusetts, having been six weeks at sea, every person on board was anxious to obtain a sight of land once more, notwithstanding our vessel was stanch and strong and our provisions and water abundant. There is always a pleasant excitement among a ship's company at the prospect of soon terminating a voyage. We drew towards Cape Cod, and one night when the soundings indicated that we were not far from the shore, a good look-out was kept from the topsail yard for the light; but no light was visible through the night. Soon after daybreak, the LIGHTHOUSE, right ahead, was plainly seen from the deck with the naked eye, being not more than five or six miles off. Whether the light had been allowed to expire through inattention on the part of an unfaithful keeper, or a thick haze had collected over the land and veiled it from the view of vessels in the offing, as was suggested by some good-natured individuals, was never known.

All was now bustle and excitement. The land was in sight; the "highlands of Cape Cod" were plainly visible; the wind was north-east, and every thing indicated that we should be safely anchored in Boston harbor, or hauled snugly in, alongside the wharf, before another night.

It is pleasant to witness the exuberance of spirits on such an occasion. Orders were promptly obeyed; every man moved as if he had been suddenly endued with a double portion of strength and activity; smiles lighted up every countenance; the joke and the laugh went round, and even Cato, the philosophic African, as he stood near his camboose and gazed earnestly on the barren sands, clapped his hands with glee, exhibited a store of ivory which would have excited the admiration of an elephant. Even the old brig seemed to participate in the joyousness that pervaded the ship's company, and glided along smoothly and rapidly, gracefully and merrily, as if conscious that a quiet haven and a snug resting place were at hand.

Passing Race Point we soon came in sight of the "south shore" of Massachusetts By, the land hallowed by the trials and sufferings of the Pilgrims. We passed near Cohasset Rocks, dangers, which, it is well known, have caused the destruction of many a noble ship and in full view of Boston lighthouse we received a pilot on board.

Pilots should be a happy as well as a useful class of men. When a ship arrives at the entrance of a harbor, after a long passage, the sight of a pilot carries joy to every heart. He appears truly in the guise of "a guide, philosopher, and friend," is warmly welcomed, and treated with kindness and hospitality. The news is eagerly demanded, friends are inquired for, and the words which fall from his lips are attentively listened to, carefully noted, and prized as highly as the sayings of the Delphic oracles.

The dome of the State House was soon distinctly seen; a conspicuous object, which seems to rest lightly upon the countless edifices, a mural crown upon a kingly city. We thridded the narrows, and off Long Island Head Captain Allen suddenly recollected he had a prisoner under his charge. Petersen had been released from durance in the morning as usual, and light-hearted and joyous, had toiled with the crew, apparently sympathizing in their feelings. Speaking English fluently, and well acquainted with the harbor, for he had sailed a voyage out of Boston, it would have been easy for him to slip quietly over the bow and swim to the shore, where, it is possible, he might have escaped the fearful punishment that awaited him for his crimes. But he made no effort to escape, and was now conducted below by the mate, handcuffed, and confined to his quarters in the half-deck.