The Knickerbocker, Vol. 22, No. 5, November 1843

by Various

Such a cry now rang forth from the lips of every man, woman, and child of that vast collection, that one would have thought it sufficient to have roused the very monsters of the deep. Ashore, everything was in confusion, and nearly all dismayed. There was shouting from one to another, to do this and to do that; there was running to and fro, from one point to another; some were calling out to put off in boats, and others to throw off planks and casks, and logs of wood, and every thing that would float; but all to no purpose; all were giving orders and none obeying them. Some two or three indeed there were, who with more presence of mind had abstained from joining in the uproar, and had upon the first alarm jumped into a little skiff that lay alongside the wharf, and were now half way to the ship. Those aboard and in the boat, however, being used to accidents and dangers incidental to a seaman's life, participated not in the least in the fears of their friends ashore. They knew that their captain was an excellent swimmer, and that he would rise in a moment or two, when they had no doubts or apprehensions of his rescue from a watery grave. Those, therefore in the boat poised their oars, ready to strike off at the second toward the spot, wherever it might be, in which he should appear. The others aboard busied themselves in throwing out spars, casks, and barrels, hen-coops, and every thing that they could lay their hands upon, that would sustain his weight in the water, to assist him in getting aboard.

In less time than I have occupied in its description, all this occurred; yet short as it was, short as was the interval between his sinking and reäppearance, it was a period of the most fearfully anxious interest. Eyes were strained to catch the first glimpse of his head; and there were conflicting feelings at work within each bosom; feelings of doubt, and hope, and fear, and worse than all, a suspense that was torture. At length, to their great joy, the waters were parted a few yards from the spot where he sunk, and once more they caught sight of the object of their interest.

Was that not a shout of heart-felt gladness that then startled the echoes for miles around? Rising confidently upon the treacherous waves, as though this was his own peculiar element, he brushed the water from his face, and then struck out boldly for the ship. At the same instant the men in the boat, with a hearty cheer, simultaneously dipped their oars, and one strong pull sent the little skiff nearly a third of the distance that intervened. On board, too, more spars were thrown over, and no means were neglected to ensure his safety. Just then one of the sailors of the ship, who had thrown over every thing that he could get hold of that would float, and who had gone down into the cabin in search of something else, appeared at the bulwarks with a large heavy chair in his arms. Disregarding the expostulations of his mates, and the cries of those in the boat that enough had been thrown out, and without taking the slightest notice of its probable course, he hurled it with all his strength into the air.

'God save him now!' ejaculated many, while a half-suppressed cry of terror escaped the lips of others, as they watched its rise, and saw that the direction it was taking was such that it must inevitably strike the struggling man, or the water very near him. Shouts of warning, and cries of, 'push away, quick!' and the various sounds that would naturally occur at such a moment, filled the air, and drew his attention to the impending danger. He saw and comprehended all in a second, and with desperate effort struggled to move, though it were but a yard from the spot in which he then was. Alas! his efforts were in vain. Steadily up into the air it held its course, until it was directly over the swimmer, and the force that hurled it was expended, when it seemed to hang for a second or two, as though to give warning, and then fell with fearful rapidity. Down, down it came! None could help him now! With its full force it struck him on the head, and with a groan that went to the hearts of all who heard it, he again disappeared.

It is impossible to find words adequately to describe the consternation that prevailed at this melancholy accident. In contrast with the previous manner of expression, it displayed itself not in noise and confusion, but all seemed suddenly petrified with horror, gazing motionless and in silence at the point where the unfortunate man was last seen. For ten long and dreary minutes, this fearful stillness was unbroken by any sounds, save those of the waves leaping gently over one another, and the rushing of the breeze. Weary were the watchings for the rise of the commander of the gallant ship. When they again saw his form, a few hours after, (rude grappling-irons, constructed on the spur of the moment, having been successfully used,) the seal of death was upon his brow.

Of the whole of that vast company, so interested were they all, scarcely one had left the scene; and now, when the dripping corpse of the unfortunate captain was carried on shore, and borne up to the house of the agent of the ship, as they opened to the right and left to give passage to those who carried him, many eyes were filled, and cheeks were wet with genuine tears. One and another now began to whisper among themselves, and wonder what would be done with the vessel, now that she had lost her captain; whether she would be detained long, or until another commander could be obtained, or the first mate promoted to the office; what the agent's intentions were, and whether or not it was probable that he would order her round to Boston, and try to make a more successful start from that place. These, together with speculations upon the weather, and the probability of a storm, for now the aspect overhead was threatening, formed the staple of conversation of the assembled townsfolk for another hour, when it was whispered through the crowd, and afterward spoken loudly, that the agent had altered the day of sailing to that day week, when she would sail for England, under the charge of the first mate. Nobody, however, appeared to possess authentic information relative to this matter; each one who was questioned confessed that he was told so by a friend, who had got it from another, who in his turn had received it from somebody else.

But these rumors were speedily verified by a party who had constituted themselves a committee to ascertain the truth or falsehood of the reports, and had marched up in a body to the counting-room of the agent. These now returned and announced that the counting-room was locked up, the agent being probably up at his house superintending the necessary arrangements for the reception of the body of the captain; but upon the door was affixed a paper, on which was written in his own hand-writing the sum and substance of what they had heard. There being now no occasion for remaining together, the crowd began to disperse, at first slowly; but at the expiration of fifteen or twenty minutes a few stragglers, who had stayed behind to take a long, last look, for the time being, of the ship, were alone left of all the hundreds that had so lately filled the place.

That night one of the most terrific storms that ever visited New-England broke over Salem, and the surrounding country and towns, for miles and miles around. Although it was late in the year, it was accompanied by the most fearfully vivid lightning and appalling thunder. Rain and hail poured down in torrents; and the winds, as though the effort to break their chains had but increased their anger, united in sustaining such a conflict, that the effects of it were visible for weeks after. The waters of the harbor were lashed into perfect fury. Several small fishing craft were sunk at their moorings, or parted their cables and drove ashore. Boats lying at the wharves, or in the dock, were dashed in pieces against each other, or carried up high and dry into the streets of the town. A small brig which was anchored above the 'Countess of Pembroke,' loaded and ready to sail for New-York, was struck by lightning and consumed by fire in the sight of many whose fears would not suffer them to attempt to sleep, and who spent a portion of the long and dreary hours of the night in straining their eyes to catch glimpses of the ship, when the lightning for a few seconds at a time rendered it visible, without an effort being made to stay the progress of the flames. The good ship herself suffered severely. Though her anchors held her firmly, yet her spars and rigging were injured. Her foretopmast was snapped early in the storm, as though it had been a pipe-stem, and several of her upper spars were cracked. A fishing schooner, which had arrived only an hour before dark, and had not hauled up to the wharf, parted her cable, and in driving toward the shore came in contact with the ship, running her bowsprit up into her fore-rigging, and staving in the bulwarks of the 'Countess of Pembroke,' with the force of the concussion. The town also suffered much. Several houses were blown down; chimneys without number were shattered, to the imminent danger of house-tops and whatever might be in the streets; roofs were lifted up and carried away; and the spire of one of the churches was struck by lightning. But fortunately the fire was extinguished by the rain before it had acquired much headway. Nor did the country escape the general devastation. Old trees, which had braved the storms of a century or more, were torn up by their roots, as though they had been but the saplings of a summer's growth; some were struck by lightning, and others whose prongs and roots had struck too deeply into the earth to be severed from that relationship, had their massy limbs and branches broken off, and otherwise suffered severely. It was in fact a storm of fearful power. None remembered ever to have witnessed such a night; and many and many months, ay, and years too, elapsed ere its equal visited the place.

Not to draw out this narrative to a tedious length, the time intervening between the morning after the storm and that appointed for a second attempt to carry the ship out may be passed over, with merely the remark that the unfortunate captain was during that period followed to his grave by a large concourse of friends; for his many virtues had won esteem, and all who knew him felt that in his untimely end a tie of tender relationship had been severed. The morning came; not like the other, bright and beautiful, with a clear, fresh breeze careering over the water, filling the sails, toying with the numberless flags and streamers upon the little craft in the harbor, and the different flag-staffs in the town, and gladdening the hearts of the voyagers and their well-wishers with the prospect of getting well off the coast; but dark, gloomy, and ominous. The whole of the broad blue canopy of heaven was shut in by one wide-spreading cloud, immovable and impenetrable, indicating the close proximity of snow. The ship had been put in complete order; but her new commander, though naturally elated at his unexpected promotion, yet felt a heavy responsibility weighing down his spirits, and a presentiment that some evil was about to befall the idolized 'Countess of Pembroke' and her crew.

Upon the shore the crowd assembled to witness her departure was if possible more dense than before; but not now, as then, rose shoutings and cheerings and well-wishings. All, alas! felt that silence was the most appropriate for the occasion; and every individual preserved it.