We all stood looking with eagerness towards the wreck—the ladies with opera-glasses to their eyes, the gentlemen with telescopes; the captain aft was constantly viewing her through his glass, and the second mate, who had charge of the deck, watched her through the shrouds of the main rigging with the intentness of a pirate whose eyes are upon a chase.
The fact was, it was impossible to tell whether there might be human beings aboard of her, let alone the sort of pathetic interest one found in the sight of the lonely object rolling out yonder in a drowning way amidst the sparkling morning waters of the blue immensity of the deep. Only a little while ago, I thought to myself as I surveyed her, she was a noble ship; her white sails soared, she sat like a large summer cloud upon the water, the foam sparkled at her fore-foot; like ourselves, she might have been homeward bound—and now see her! Hearts which were lately beating in full life, are silent—stilled for ever in those cold depths upon whose surface she is heaving.
There is no object in life, I think, that appeals more solemnly to the mind than a wreck fallen in with far out at sea. She is an image of death, and the thought of the eternity that follows upon death is symbolized by the secret green profound in whose depths she will shortly be swallowed up.
The hull lay so deep in the water that the name under her counter was buried, and not to be read. A flash of light broke from her wet black side each time she rolled from the sun, and the brilliant glare was so much like the crimson gleam of a gun, that again and again I would catch myself listening for the noise of the explosion, as though forsooth there were people firing signals to us aboard her.
“An eight hundred ton ship at least,” the captain told the ladies, “and a very fine model. Oh yes! She’s been hammered to pieces by a storm of wind. She has no boats, you see, so let us hope her people managed to get away in safety, and that they are by this time on board a ship.”
“I daresay,” said a young fellow, one of the cuddy passengers, “that her hold is full of valuable goods. Pity we couldn’t take her in tow and carry her home with us. Why shouldn’t the cargo of such a vessel as that be worth—call it twenty thousand pounds if you will? There’s just money enough in that figure to make me tolerably comfortable for the rest of my life. Confounded nonsense to have a fortune under your nose, and be obliged to watch it sink!”
“Well, Mr. Graham,” said the captain, laughing, “there’s the hulk, sir. If you have a mind to take charge of her, I’ll put you on board. Nothing venture nothing have, you know. That’s particularly the case at sea.”
“Too late! too late!” growled out the bass voice of an old major who had been making the tour of the world for his health. “See there!” and he pointed a long, skinny, trembling forefinger at the wreck.
She was sinking as he spoke! It was as wild a sight in its way as you could conceive; she put her bow under and lifted her stern, and made her last dive as though she were something living. She disappeared swiftly; indeed the ocean was rolling clear to the horizon before you could realise that the substantial object, which a moment or two before was floating firm to your sight, was gone.