Under the lee of the wreck, the sea was comparatively mild, and the mate fastened the painter of the boat to the bobstay of the brig. Without much difficulty, the two men climbed to the forecastle of the vessel, which was still above the water. Doubtless Mr. Carboy was right in regard to the position of the wreck on the rocks, but the sea dashed furiously against the broken end of the hulk. The hurricane renewed its violence, and as the tide rose, the waves swept over the two men. But the rising sea did worse than this for them. It loosened the cargo, consisting in part of hogsheads of molasses; and they rolled down into the deep water. Relieved of this weight, the tide lifted the wreck from between the rocks; the hulk rolled over and disappeared beneath the white-crowned waves, dragging the whale-boat down with it. The movement was so sudden that the mate and the passenger had no time to save themselves, if there had been any means of doing so, and they went down with the wreck. After a hard struggle for life, they perished.
Harvey Barth alone was spared, and he rested on the flat rock in the ravine till his wasted breath and meagre strength were regained. Then he continued his weary ascent till he reached the summit of the cliffs, where he saw the boat made fast to the wreck, and the mate and passenger clinging to the forestay. In the next glare of the lightning, with a thrill of horror, he saw the hulk topple over and disappear in the mad waves.
Harvey Barth, the sick man, was the only one of the dozen persons on board of the Waldo who was left alive in half an hour after the hurricane burst upon her; and she was not the only vessel that foundered or was dashed upon the rocks in that terrific storm, nor the only one from whose crew only a single life was spared. The tempest and the lightning had done their work; and when it was done, the dark clouds rolled away, the lightning glared no more, the winds subsided, and the sea was calm again. Later in the night, the wind came cold and fresh from the north-west, and swept away from the narrow beach the wounded body of Burns, and nearly every vestige of the wreck. The rising sun of the next morning revealed hardly a trace of the terrible disaster.
CHAPTER III.
"HARVEY BARTH, HIS DIARY."
Harvey Barth stood on the high cliff and wept; not in a poetical sense, but cried like a little child, and the hot tears burned on his cold, thin pale cheeks. Captain 'Siah had always used him well; the rough mate had been kind to him; and the seamen, most of whom, like himself, were farmers' sons, had been friendly during the three months they were together. Even the passenger often seated himself in the galley to talk with him, as he smoked his pipe. Now they were all gone. So far as Harvey knew, every one of them, from the captain to the humblest seaman, had perished, either by the bolt from the clouds or in the mad waters. It was barely possible that the mate or passenger had escaped from the wreck on which they had taken refuge, as they had the whale-boat with them.
Harvey Barth, who had often told his shipmates that he had not much longer to live, was the only one saved from the whole ship's company. It seemed to him very strange that he should be spared while so many stronger men had been suddenly swept away. He dared not believe that any one else had been saved, and he could not but regard himself as a monument of the mercy, as well as of the mysterious ways of Providence. He thanked God from the depths of his heart that he was saved, and he was almost willing to believe that he might yet escape the fate to which his malady had doomed him.
The hurricane subsided almost as suddenly as it had commenced; the sea abated its violence, and the booming thunder was heard only in the distance. The black clouds rolled away from the westward, and the stars sparkled in the blue sky. The steward was wet to the skin, and he shivered with cold. Where he was he had not the least idea. On the distant shore he could see the light-houses, but what points of land they marked he did not know. He was on the solid land, and that was the sum total of his information. He was well nigh worn out by the exertions and the excitement of the evening, but, turning his back to the treacherous ocean which had swallowed up all his friends, he walked as rapidly as his strength would admit, in order to warm himself by the exercise. From the cliffs the land sloped upward, but he soon reached the top of the hill, on which he paused to take an observation. From the point where he stood there was a much sharper descent before him than on the side by which he had come up. At the foot of the hill he saw two lights, then a sheet of water, and beyond a multitude of lights indicating a considerable village.