Kitabı oku: «Harper's New Monthly Magazine. No. XVI.—September, 1851—Vol. III», sayfa 7
A WATERSPOUT IN THE INDIAN OCEAN
One of the noblest and most beautiful sights in the world is a gallant, symmetrical, full-rigged ship, clothed with mighty wings from keel to truck, cleaving through the waves under the influence of a "right merrie" wind abeam. There is something exceedingly grand, to behold it steadily gliding along, like a thing instinct with life; to see its towering pyramidal sails swelling to the generous breeze; to glance from its fluttering ensigns, and bright sides, and snowy canvas, to the contrasting deep blue sea, sparkling beneath the vertical rays of the tropical sun; to hastily run over in one's mind a few only of the spirit-stirring associations conjured by the object. But it is not with a ship in this exhilarating position that I have now to deal; to the reverse – it is with one which lay like "a painted ship upon a painted ocean" – being a large East Indiaman, chartered to convey troops to the Bombay presidency, and lying totally becalmed not far from the tropics.
I was languidly swinging in my hammock, one sultry morning, when not a breath of air was stirring strong enough "to blow a lady's curl aside," when I heard a sound which convinced me that something unusual had occurred to arouse the listless idlers lounging on the upper deck. It speedily increased to such a degree that all between decks who were able (myself included) rushed up, pell-mell, to discover the reason, and soon there were none left below but the miserable sick, who could not crawl from their stifling berths.
"What's the kick-up?" roared the gigantic corporal of the grenadier company, the moment he got his head above the combing of the hatchway.
"Niver sighted sich a jamb sin' the meet at Ballyshannon!" echoed a voluble Irish comrade. "Maybe a tu-an'-thirty-punder wouldn't mak' buthermilk of us all just now."
"Can ye no kape that long red rope i' yer own impty hid, but ye must let every body know ye're a gomulah? Ain't it a watherspout, eh?" fiercely responded a brother Emeralder.
"A watherspout! an' what's that, avick? Summat to ate?"
"Ate! ye gossoon! Ay, it's summat as'll soon ate yer, big and ugly as yer are."
Some few happy-go-lucky reprobates laughed at Pat's sapience, but the majority felt the matter to be far too serious to permit their indulging in senseless merriment, and strove, with uncontrollable interest, to secure some position whence they could behold an object of which they had heard or read highly-colored accounts. I myself instantly sprang into the shrouds, and the whole spectacle then burst full upon me in all its novel grandeur.
As already mentioned, not a breath of air was stirring, and the vessel herself lay sluggishly on the briny ocean, the sails hanging in bags, or clewed up in festoons to the yards, and the masts motionless as Pompey's Pillar. At the distance of very little more than the ship's length, the sea was bubbling up in the shape of spiral cones of varying height and sizes, all of them springing from within a circle, the circumference of which might be equal to that of the ring of an equestrian circus. The vertical rays of the sun invested the falling spray with an indescribable beauty, but the level water appeared of a dull, strong, white color. The phenomenon was attended by a very loud and long-continued hissing noise, of a peculiar and terrifying kind. This was but the commencement of a waterspout. Every moment we expected to see the several columns unite in one; and, from their contiguity, there would, in such a case, be no hope of final escape. Either the ship would be totally engulfed, or every atom of mast, rigging, and all above deck, would be whirled a hundred fathoms through the air.
Travelers say that the serpent possesses the basilisk power of fascinating its prey by the glare of its eye, and certainly a waterspout is equal in that terrible attribute, for scarcely a man in the ship that saw it was able to withdraw his gaze from the fearful spectacle. All other faculties seemed to be absorbed, and even had they had the opportunity to flee, few would have been able to move a foot.
Many on board were personally cognizant that any extraordinary concussion of the air, as that produced by the firing of guns, had been known to cause waterspouts to subside, and the captain of our ship had given orders to train two of the main-deck large carronades (for we were armed en flute) upon it, with heavy charges. But so riveted and entranced were all, that it was with extreme difficulty that either soldiers or sailors could be got to move; and only when some of the officers literally placed their own shoulders to the wheel, and exhorted, and even struck the gaping, bewildered men, were the guns charged and trained in the waist of the ship. Scarcely was this done, when five or six of the largest columns suddenly joined together, as though by a species of magnetic attraction, and formed one of colossal magnitude, high as the maintopsail-yard, the spiral motion rapidly increasing, and the whole body seeming to near the ship.
"We shall soon know our fate," exclaimed the captain. "Now, Tom," said he, to the old man-o'-war's gunner, "do your best – your very best."
"Ay, ay, sir!" replied the tough old salt, in that muttering, indistinct manner, common to old seamen when much excited. "Avast a minute!" grumbled he to an assistant, who was busy with the chocks. "Hand me that monkey's tail!"
Eagerly clutching with his fish-hooks of fingers the short iron crowbar so denominated, he rammed it as far as he could down the ample mouth of the piece, in a peculiar direction.
"Away, skylarkers! Sea-room, ye red-coats! There: de-press a little – more – so, avast!" He took a quick squint down the short but deadly tube, and then turned to the artillery-man presiding over the other carronade, with "Ship mate, are you all clear for a run?"
"All ready?" inquired the captain.
"All ready, sir," repeated the veteran tar.
"Very good," was the reply; and, springing on the capstan-head, the latter sang out at the top of his voice, "Now men, I want every one of you – red-coats and blue-jackets – to try your lungs! They're strong enough on most occasions, and don't be behindhand now. Our lives depend upon it." Here he paused; and, pointing significantly to the tremendous spout, which enlarged and neared the ship every moment, he impressively demanded, "Do you see yon big fellow?"
"Ay, ay," said the tarry-jackets.
"Yes," said the red-coats.
"Very well, then, all I've got to say, is, that if we don't thrash him, he will thrash us! So no demi-semi-quavers, but give three hearty cheers to frighten him away, for he's a real coward. Hats off, and up at arm's length!" They obeyed.
"Now, my hearties," continued he, well knowing in what strain to address them, "let us try if our throats can not drown the bark of these two bull-dogs of ours! Why, we're good-for-nothing, if we can't make as much din as a couple of rusty iron candlesticks! Hu-r-r-ah!"
As the gallant commander waved his hat aloft, the keen eye of the old gunner glistened with uncommon ardor, and, squirting a long stream of suspicious-looking fluid some odd fathoms from the ship's side, he muttered, "Here goes a re'g'lar wide-awaker" – applied the match to the priming – bang! bang! the two "candlesticks" blended into one simultaneous roar, accompanied by hurrahs which of themselves shook the sultry air.
The steady state of the ship was highly favorable to the marksmen, and the skill of the old gunner produced a result equal to his most sanguine expectations, for the "monkey's tail" struck fairly athwart the spout at an elevation of some fifteen feet, and the whole immense body immediately fell with a crash like that of a steeple, and before the cheering ended, all had subsided – old Neptune's face became unwrinkled as heretofore, ship and shadow again became double, rainbow-hued dolphins again glided like elfin shadows just beneath the translucent surface, flying-fish again skipped along it with redoubled zest, the huge albatross again inertly stretched its immense wings, the screaming sea-hawk again descended from the regions of immensity, where it had been soaring at an elevation far beyond the pierce of human vision, the white side of the insatiate shark again glanced in fearful proximity to the imprisoned ship; aboard which ship hearts rose as the waves fell, fear was indignantly kicked out of its brief abiding-place, tongues were again in active commission, feet were again pattering, and arms again swinging about, shrill orders were again bandied, the pet monkey ran chattering aloft to complete its lately suspended dissection of the marine's cap, tarry-jackets again freshened their quids, hitched their voluminous trowsers, and made vigorous renewed allusion to their precious eyes and limbs, and red-coats once more found themselves at the usual discount.
So heavily had the guns been charged, that they rebounded across the deck, overturning a score of the very "finest pisantry in the world," who one and all vehemently asserted in the rich brogue, and with the lively gesticulations of their native land, that they were "kilt intirely, an' no misthake, at all, at all!"
I have only to add, that a glorious spanking breeze followed within a few hours; and many a poor fellow blessed the waterspout, from a vague notion that to its agency we were indebted for the grateful change. But what mysterious affinity there could be between a waterspout in a calm, and a breeze springing up soon afterward, I leave my scientific friends to discover and explain. Such things are above a plain seaman's philosophy.
MAURICE TIERNAY,
THE SOLDIER OF FORTUNE
[Continued from the August Number.]
CHAPTER XXXVIII
A ROYALIST "DE LA VIEILLE ROCHE."
On a hot and sultry day of June, I found myself seated in a country cart, and under the guard of two mounted dragoons, wending my way toward Kuffstein, a Tyrol fortress, to which I was sentenced as a prisoner. A weary journey was it; for in addition to my now sad thoughts, I had to contend against an attack of ague, which I had just caught, and which was then raging like a plague in the Austrian camp. One solitary reminiscence, and that far from a pleasant one, clings to this period. We had halted on the outskirts of a little village called "Broletto," for the siesta; and there, in a clump of olives, were quietly dozing away the sultry hours, when the clatter of horsemen awoke us; and on looking up, we saw a cavalry escort sweep past at a gallop. The corporal who commanded our party hurried into the village to learn the news, and soon returned with the tidings that "a great victory had been gained over the French, commanded by Bonaparte in person; that the army was in full retreat; and this was the dispatch an officer of Melas's staff was now hastening to lay at the feet of the emperor."
"I thought several times this morning," said the corporal, "that I heard artillery; and so it seems I might, for we are not above twenty miles from where the battle was fought."
"And how is the place called?" asked I, in a tone skeptical enough to be offensive.
"Marengo," replied he; "mayhap the name will not escape your memory."
How true was the surmise, but in how different a sense from what he uttered it! But so it was; even as late as four o'clock the victory was with the Austrians. Three separate envoys had left the field with tidings of success; and it was only late at night that the general, exhausted by a disastrous day, and almost broken-hearted, could write to tell his master that "Italy was lost."
I have many a temptation here to diverge from a line that I set down for myself in these memoirs, and from which as yet I have not wandered – I mean, not to dwell upon events wherein I was not myself an actor; but I am determined still to adhere to my rule; and leaving that glorious event behind me, plod wearily along my now sad journey.
Day after day we journeyed through a country teeming with abundance; vast plains of corn and maize, olives, and vines every where: on the mountains, the crags, the rocks, festooned over cliffs, and spreading their tangled networks over cottages, and yet every where poverty, misery, and debasement, ruined villages, and a half-naked, starving populace, met the eye at every turn. There was the stamp of slavery on all, and still more palpably was there the stamp of despotism in the air of their rulers.
I say this in sad spirit; for within a year from the day in which I write these lines, I have traveled the self-same road, and with precisely the self-same objects before me. Changed in nothing, save what time changes, in ruin and decay! There was the dreary village as of yore; the unglazed windows closed with some rotten boarding, or occupied by a face gaunt with famine. The listless, unoccupied group still sat or lay on the steps before the church; a knot of nearly naked creatures sat card-playing beside a fountain, their unsheathed knives alongside of them; and, lastly, on the wall of the one habitation which had the semblance of decency about it, there stared out the "double-headed eagle," the symbol of their shame and their slavery! It never can be the policy of a government to retard the progress and depress the energies of a people beneath its rule. Why, then, do we find a whole nation, gifted and capable as this, so backward in civilization? Is the fault with the rulers? or are there, indeed, people, whose very development is the obstacle to their improvement; whose impulses of right and wrong will submit to no discipline; and who are incapable of appreciating true liberty? This would be a gloomy theory; and the very thought of it suggests darker fears for a land to which my sympathies attach me more closely!
If any spot can impress the notion of impregnability, it is Kuffstein. Situated on an eminence of rock over the Inn, three sides of the base are washed by that rapid river, a little village occupies the fourth; and from this the supplies are hoisted up to the garrison above, by cranes and pulleys; the only approach being by a path wide enough for a single man, and far too steep and difficult of access to admit of his carrying any burden, however light. All that science and skill could do is added to the natural strength of the position, and from every surface of the vast rock itself the projecting mouths of guns and mortars show resources of defense it would seem madness to attack.
Three thousand men, under the command of General Urleben, held this fortress at the time I speak of; and by their habits of discipline and vigilance, showed that no over-security would make them neglect the charge of so important a trust. I was the first French prisoner that had ever been confined within the walls, and to the accident of my uniform was I indebted for this distinction. I have mentioned that in Genoa they gave me a staff-officer's dress and appointments, and from this casual circumstance it was supposed that I should know a great deal of Massena's movements and intentions, and that by judicious management I might be induced to reveal it.
General Urleben, who had been brought up in France, was admirably calculated to have promoted such an object, were it practicable. He possessed the most winning address, as well as great personal advantages; and although now past the middle of life, was reputed one of the handsomest men in Austria. He at once invited me to his table, and having provided me with a delightful little chamber, from whence the view extended four miles along the Inn, he sent me stores of books, journals, and newspapers, French, English, and German, showing by the very candor of their tidings a most flattering degree of confidence and trust.
If imprisonment could ever be endurable with resignation, mine ought to have been so. My mornings were passed in weeding or gardening a little plot of ground outside my window, giving me ample occupation in that way, and rendering carnations and roses dearer to me, through all my after life, than without such associations they would ever have been. Then I used to sketch for hours, from the walls, bird's-eye views, prisoner's glimpses, of the glorious Tyrol scenery below us. Early in the afternoon came dinner, and then, with the general's pleasant converse, a cigar, and a chess-board, the time wore smoothly on till nightfall.
An occasional thunder-storm, grander and more sublime than any thing I have ever seen elsewhere, would now and then vary a life of calm but not unpleasant monotony; and occasionally, too, some passing escort, on the way to or from Vienna, would give tidings of the war; but except in these, each day was precisely like the other, so that when the almanac told me it was autumn, I could scarcely believe a single month had glided over. I will not attempt to conceal the fact, that the inglorious idleness of my life, this term of inactivity at an age when hope, and vigor, and energy, were highest within me, was a grievous privation; but, except in these regrets, I could almost call this time a happy one. The unfortunate position in which I started in life, gave me little opportunity, or even inclination, for learning. Except the little Père Michel had taught me, I knew nothing. I need not say that this was but a sorry stock of education, even at that period; when I must say, the sabre was more in vogue than the grammar.
I now set steadily about repairing this deficiency. General Urleben lent me all his aid, directing my studies, supplying me with books, and at times affording me the still greater assistance of his counsel and advice. To history generally, but particularly that of France, he made me pay the deepest attention, and seemed never to weary while impressing upon me the grandeur of our former monarchies, and the happiness of France when ruled by her legitimate sovereigns.
I had told him all that I knew myself of my birth and family, and frequently would he allude to the subject of my reading, by saying, "The son of an old 'Garde du Corps' needs no commentary when perusing such details as these. Your own instincts tell you how nobly these servants of a monarchy bore themselves – what chivalry lived at that time in men's hearts, and how generous and self-denying was their loyalty."
Such and such like were the expressions which dropped from him from time to time; nor was their impression the less deep, when supported by the testimony of the memoirs with which he supplied me. Even in deeds of military glory, the Monarchy could compete with the Republic, and Urleben took care to insist upon a fact I was never unwilling to concede – that the well-born were ever foremost in danger, no matter whether the banner was a white one or a tricolor.
"Le bon sang ne peut meutir" was an adage I never disputed, although certainly I never expected to hear it employed in the disparagement of those to whom it did not apply.
As the winter set in I saw less of the general. He was usually much occupied in the mornings, and at evening he was accustomed to go down to the village, where, of late, some French emigré families had settled – unhappy exiles, who had both peril and poverty to contend against! Many such were scattered through the Tyrol at that period, both for the security and the cheapness it afforded. Of these Urleben rarely spoke; some chance allusion, when borrowing a book or taking away a newspaper, being the extent to which he ever referred to them.
One morning, as I sat sketching on the walls, he came up to me, and said, "Strange enough, Tiernay, last night I was looking at a view of this very scene, only taken from another point of sight; both were correct, accurate in every detail, and yet most dissimilar – what a singular illustration of many of our prejudices and opinions. The sketch I speak of was made by a young countrywoman of yours – a highly gifted lady, who little thought that the accomplishments of her education were one day to be the resources of her livelihood. Even so," said he, sighing, "a marquise of the best blood of France is reduced to sell her drawings!"
As I expressed a wish to see the sketches in question, he volunteered to make the request, if I would send some of mine in return, and thus accidentally grew up a sort of intercourse between myself and the strangers, which gradually extended to books, and music, and, lastly, to civil messages and inquiries of which the general was ever the bearer.
What a boon was all this to me! What a sun-ray through the bars of a prisoner's cell was this gleam of kindness and sympathy! The very similarity of our pursuits, too, had something inexpressibly pleasing in it, and I bestowed ten times as much pains upon each sketch, now that I knew to whose eyes it would be submitted.
"Do you know, Tiernay," said the general to me, one day, "I am about to incur a very heavy penalty in your behalf – I am going to contravene the strict orders of the War Office, and take you along with me this evening down to the village."
I started with surprise and delight together, and could not utter a word.
"I know perfectly well," continued he, "that you will not abuse my confidence. I ask, then, for nothing beyond your word, that you will not make any attempt at escape; for this visit may lead to others, and I desire, so far as possible, that you should feel as little constraint as a prisoner well may."
I readily gave the pledge required, and he went on —
"I have no cautions to give you, nor any counsels. Madame d'Aigreville is a royalist."
"She is madame, then!" said I, in a voice of some disappointment.
"Yes, she is a widow, but her niece is unmarried," said he, smiling at my eagerness. I affected to hear the tidings with unconcern, but a burning flush covered my cheek, and I felt as uncomfortable as possible.
I dined that day as usual with the general; adjourning after dinner to the little drawing-room, where we played our chess. Never did he appear to me so tedious in his stories, so intolerably tiresome in his digressions, as that evening. He halted at every move – he had some narrative to recount, or some observation to make, that delayed our game to an enormous time; and at last, on looking out of the window, he fancied there was a thunder-storm brewing, and that we should do well to put off our visit to a more favorable opportunity.
"It is little short of half a league," said he, "to the village, and in bad weather is worse than double the distance."
I did not dare to controvert his opinion, but, fortunately, a gleam of sunshine shot, the same moment, through the window, and proclaimed a fair evening.
Heaven knows I had suffered little of a prisoner's durance – my life had been one of comparative freedom and ease; and yet, I can not tell the swelling emotion of my heart with which I emerged from the deep archway of the fortress, and heard the bang of the heavy gate, as it closed behind me. Steep as was the path, I felt as if I could have bounded down it without a fear! The sudden sense of liberty was maddening in its excitement, and I half suspect that had I been on horseback in that moment of wild delight, I should have forgotten all my plighted word and parole, though I sincerely trust that the madness would not have endured beyond a few minutes. If there be among my readers one who has known imprisonment, he will forgive this confession of a weakness, which to others of less experience will seem unworthy, perhaps dishonorable.
Dorf Kuffstein was a fair specimen of the picturesque simplicity of a Tyrol village. There were the usual number of houses, with carved galleries and quaint images in wood, the shrines and altars, the little "Platz," for Sunday recreation, and the shady alley for rifle practice.
There were also the trelliced walks of vines, and the orchards, in the midst of one of which we now approached a long, low farm-house, whose galleries projected over the river. This was the abode of Madame d'Aigreville.
A peasant was cleaning a little mountain pony, from which a side-saddle had just been removed as we came up, and he, leaving his work, proceeded to ask us into the house, informing us as he went, that the ladies had just returned from a long ramble, and would be with us presently.
The drawing-room into which we were shown was a perfect picture of cottage elegance; all the furniture was of polished walnut wood, and kept in the very best condition. It opened by three spacious windows upon the terrace above the river, and afforded a view of mountain and valley for miles on every side. An easel was placed on this gallery, and a small sketch in oils of Kuffstein was already nigh completed on it. There were books, too, in different languages, and, to my inexpressible delight, a piano!
The reader will smile, perhaps, at the degree of pleasure objects so familiar and every-day called forth; but let him remember how removed were all the passages of my life from such civilizing influences – how little of the world had I seen beyond camps and barrack-rooms, and how ignorant I was of the charm which a female presence can diffuse over even the very humblest abode.
Before I had well ceased to wonder, and admire these objects, the marquise entered.
A tall and stately old lady, with an air at once haughty and gracious, received me with a profound courtesy, while she extended her hand to the salute of the general. She was dressed in deep mourning, and wore her white hair in two braids along her face. The sound of my native language, with its native accent, made me forget the almost profound reserve of her manner, and I was fast recovering from the constraint her coldness imposed, when her niece entered the room. Mademoiselle, who was, at that time, about seventeen, but looked older by a year or two, was the very ideal of "brunette" beauty; she was dark-eyed and black-haired, with a mouth the most beautifully formed; her figure was light, and her foot a model of shape and symmetry. All this I saw in an instant, as she came, half-sliding, half-bounding, to meet the general: and then turning to me, welcomed me with a cordial warmth, very different from the reception of Madame la Marquise.
Whether it was the influence of her presence, whether it was a partial concession of the old lady's own, or whether my own awkwardness was wearing off by time, I can not say – but gradually the stiffness of the interview began to diminish. From the scenery around us we grew to talk of the Tyrol generally, then of Switzerland, and lastly of France. The marquise came from Auvergne, and was justly proud of the lovely scenery of her birth-place.
Calmly and tranquilly as the conversation had been carried on up to this period, the mention of France seemed to break down the barrier of reserve within the old lady's mind, and she burst out in a wild flood of reminiscences of the last time she had seen her native village. "The Blues," as the revolutionary soldiers were called, had come down upon the quiet valley, carrying fire and carnage into a once peaceful district. The chateau of her family was razed to the ground; her husband was shot upon his own terrace; the whole village was put to the sword; her own escape was owing to the compassion of the gardener's wife, who dressed her like a peasant boy, and employed her in a menial station, a condition she was forced to continue so long as the troops remained in the neighborhood. "Yes," said she, drawing off her silk mittens, "these hands still witness the hardships I speak of. These are the marks of my servitude."
It was in vain the general tried at first to sympathize, and then withdraw her from the theme; in vain her niece endeavored to suggest another topic, or convey a hint that the subject might be unpleasing to me. It was the old lady's one absorbing idea, and she could not relinquish it. Whole volumes of the atrocities perpetrated by the revolutionary soldiery came to her recollection; each moment, as she talked, memory would recall this fact or the other, and so she continued rattling on with the fervor of a heated imagination, and the wild impetuosity of a half-crazed intellect. As for myself, I suffered far more from witnessing the pain others felt for me, than from any offense the topic occasioned me directly. These events were all "before my time." I was neither a Blue by birth nor adoption; a child during the period of revolution, I had only taken a man's part when the country, emerging from its term of anarchy and blood, stood at bay against the whole of Europe. These consolations were, however, not known to the others, and it was at last, in a moment of unendurable agony, that mademoiselle rose and left the room.
The general's eyes followed her as she went, and then sought mine with an expression full of deep meaning. If I read his look aright, it spoke patience and submission; and the lesson was an easier one than he thought.
"They talk of heroism," cried she, frantically – "it was massacre! And when they speak of chivalry, they mean the slaughter of women and children!" She looked round, seeing that her niece had left the room, suddenly dropped her voice to a whisper, and said, "Think of her mother's fate; dragged from her home, her widowed, desolate home, and thrown into the Temple, outraged and insulted, condemned on a mock trial, and then carried away to the guillotine! Ay, and even then, on that spot, which coming death might have sanctified, in that moment, when even fiendish vengeance can turn away, and leave its victim at liberty to utter a last prayer in peace, even then, these wretches devised an anguish greater than all death could compass. You will scarcely believe me," said she, drawing in her breath, and talking with an almost convulsive effort, "you will scarcely believe me in what I am now about to tell you, but it is the truth – the simple but horrible truth. When my sister mounted the scaffold there was no priest to administer the last rites. It was a time, indeed, when few were left; their hallowed heads had fallen in thousands before that. She waited for a few minutes, hoping that one would appear; and when the mob learned the meaning of her delay, they set up a cry of fiendish laughter, and with a blasphemy that makes one shudder to think of, they pushed forward a boy, one of those blood-stained 'gamins' of the streets, and made him gabble a mock litany! Yes, it is true: a horrible mockery of our service, in the ears and before the eyes of that dying saint."
