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 Providence6. 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 malady7 had doomed8 him.
The hurricane subsided9 almost as suddenly as it had commenced; the sea abated10 its violence, and the booming thunder was heard only in the distance. The black clouds rolled away from the westward11, and the stars sparkled in the blue sky. The steward12 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[Pg 50] exertions13 and the excitement of the evening, but, turning his back to the treacherous14 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.
The nearest light appeared not to be over half a mile distant, and the pale moon came out from behind the piles of black clouds to guide his steps. The cold north-west wind had begun to blow, and it chilled the wanderer to his very bones. He quickened his steps down the declivity15, and soon reached a rude, one-story dwelling16, at the door of which he knocked. He saw the light in the house, but no one answered his summons, and he repeated it more vigorously than before. Then a window was cautiously thrown open a few inches.[Pg 51]
"Who's there?" asked a woman.
"A stranger," replied Harvey, shivering with cold, so that he could hardly utter the words.
"My husband's over to the village, and I can't let no strangers in at this time of night," added the woman.
"I've been cast away on the coast, and I'm really suffering," drawled the steward, in broken sentences.
"Cast away!" exclaimed the wife of the man who was over at the village, as she dropped the sash.
The terrible storm which had spent its fury upon sea and land was enough to convince her that men might have been shipwrecked; and this was not the first time that those treacherous ledges19 off High Rock, as the cliff was called, had shattered a good vessel20. The woman hastened to the door, and threw it wide open. The pale, shivering form of Harvey Barth, the overcoat he wore still dripping with water, was enough to satisfy her that the visitor had no evil intentions.
"Come in," said she; and when the steward saw the comfortable room in the house, he required[Pg 52] no second invitation. "Why, you are shivering with cold!"
"Yes marm; I'm not very well, and getting wet don't agree with me," replied Harvey, his teeth still chattering21.
The room to which he was shown was the parlor22, sitting-room23, and kitchen of the cottage. On the hearth24 was a large cooking-stove, in which the woman immediately lighted a fire. She piled on the dry wood till the stove was full, and in a few moments the room was as hot as the oven of the stove.
"It's no use," said the housekeeper25, who had seated herself to rock the cradle; "you are wet through to your skin; and you can't get warm till you put on dry clothes."
She went to a closet and took out her husband's Sunday clothes a woolen26 undershirt, and a pair of thick socks. Harvey thought of Paradise when he saw them, for he was so chilled that to be warm again seemed to him the climax27 of earthly joy. The woman laid them on the bed in an adjoining chamber28, and then begged him to put them on. He needed no urging, and soon his trembling limbs were encased in the warm,[Pg 53] dry clothes. The coat and pants were much too short for him, but otherwise they fitted very well. When he came out of the chamber, with his wet clothes in his hands, he found a cup of hot tea on the table waiting for him.
"Now drink this," said his kind host. "It will help to warm you up; and I will put your things where they will dry."
Harvey drank the tea, and the effect was excellent. A short time before the stove restored the warmth to his body, and he began to feel quite comfortable.
"I feel good now," said he, with a sickly smile. "I'm really a new man."
"Now I wish you would tell me about the wreck," added the woman, as she rocked the cradle till it was a heavy sea for the baby, which threatened it with shipwreck17.
"Certainly; I'll tell you all about it," replied Harvey.
He started his story at the West India Islands; but, with his drawl and his hacking29 cough, he made slow progress. He had not reached the coast of Maine when the woman's husband arrived. Of course he was astonished to find a[Pg 54] stranger so comfortably installed in his house; but when his wife explained who the steward was, he became as hospitable30 and friendly as his wife had been.
"This is my husband, John Carter," said the woman, as the man of the house seated himself at the stove.
"My name is Harvey Barth," added the shipwrecked. "I was cook and steward of the brig Waldo; but she is gone to pieces now."
"Sho! you don't say so!" exclaimed John Carter. "Why, I made a voyage to Savannah myself in the Waldo, before I was married!"
"You will never make another in her. She broke into two pieces, which rolled over and went to the bottom," added Harvey.
"You don't say so! Was Captain Barnwood in her?"
"Yes, he was. Cap'n 'Siah, as we all called him—"
"So did we," interposed John Carter, with a smile.
"Cap'n 'Siah was as nice a man as ever trod a quarter-deck."
"So he was."[Pg 55]
"He's gone now," sighed Harvey.
"Was he lost?"
"Yes sir; he was knocked stiff by the lightning, with half a dozen others."
"Sho! Was the brig struck by lightning?"
"She was. It came down the mainmast and knocked the wheel into a thousand pieces. When the steering-gear gave out, we couldn't do anything more. I'm the only one of twelve men and a passenger that was saved."
Harvey Barth commenced his story anew, when the astonishment31 of John Carter had abated a little, and gave all the particulars of the voyage and the wreck and all the details of his personal history since he kept school in "York State." It was midnight when he had finished, and the details were discussed for an hour afterwards. Mrs. Carter had brought on more hot tea, with pie and cheese, and other eatables, which the steward had consumed in large quantities, for one of the features of his malady was a ravenous32 appetite. John Carter, who had been detained at the village by the violence of the storm, was as hospitable as any one could be, and Harvey slept that night in the best bed in the house.[Pg 56]
After breakfast the next morning he brought out the oil-cloth which contained his diary. He had carefully concealed33 it when he changed his clothes, and he was now anxious to know whether it had escaped serious injury in the storm. He unfolded the oil-cloth before John Carter and his wife. To his great satisfaction, he found it unharmed by the floods of water which had drenched34 him. The water-proof covering had secured it even from any dampness.
Harvey opened the book at a certain place, and exhibited between the leaves a thin pile of bank notes—the whole of his worldly wealth, for, as the Waldo was a total loss, the wages that were due him on account of the voyage were gone forever. But there was fifty-two dollars between the leaves of the diary. He had come from home with a good stock of clothing, and had saved nearly all he had earned, including his advance for the West India voyage. At Havana Mr. Carboy had the misfortune to lose his watch overboard, and, as he needed one, Harvey had sold him his—a very good silver one—for twenty-five dollars.[Pg 57]
"Now Mr. Carter, I want to pay you for what I've had," drawled Harvey, as he opened the diary, and exposed his worldly wealth.
"Pay me!" exclaimed John Carter, with something like horror in his tones and expression; "take any money from a brother sailor who has been wrecked18! I don't know where you got such a bad opinion of me, but I would starve to death, and then be hung and froze to death, before I'd take a cent from you!"
"I am willing to pay for what I've had, and I shall be very much obliged to you besides," added Harvey.
"Not a red. Put up your money. I don't feel right to have you offer it, even," said the host, turning away his head.
"I've always paid my way so far; but I don't know how much longer I shall be able to do so. I'm very thankful to you and Mrs. Carter for what you've done, and I shall write it all down in my diary as soon as I get a chance."
"You are welcome to all we've done; and we only wish it had been more," replied Mrs. Carter.[Pg 58]
"I don't think I shall go to sea any more," added Harvey, gloomily. "I have friends in York State, and I have money enough to get back there. That's all I want now. If you will tell me how I can get to New York, I'll be moving on now. I haven't got long to stay in this world, and I mean to spend the rest of my days where I was born and brought up."
"A steamer comes over to the village about three times a week, and she will be over to-day or to-morrow. I will row you over if you say so; but I shall be glad to take care of you as long as you will stay here."
"I'm much obliged to you; but I think I had better go over this forenoon."
Half an hour later the steward shook hands with Mrs. Carter and bade her adieu. John pulled him across the river, as it was called,—though it was more properly a narrow bay, into which a small stream flowed from the high lands farther inland. The village was called Rockhaven, and was a place of considerable importance. It had two thousand tons of fishing vessels35; but the granite36 quarries37 in the vicinity were the principal sources of wealth to the place[Pg 59] Latterly Rockhaven, which was beautifully situated38 on high land overlooking the waters of the lower bay, had begun to be a place of resort for summer visitors.
The western extremity39 of the village extended nearly to the high cliffs on the sea-shore, and the situation was very romantic and picturesque40. The fishing was the best in the bay, and the rocks were very attractive to people from the city. The harbor had deep water at any time of tide. For a summer residence, the only disadvantage was the want of suitable hotels or boarding-houses. Of the former there were two, of the most homely41 and primitive42 character, and not many of the inhabitants who had houses suitable for city people were willing to take boarders.
John Carter pulled his passenger across the harbor, and walked with him to the Cliff House, near the headlong steeps which bounded the village on the west. He introduced him to Peter Bennington, the landlord, and told his story for him.
"I am sorry for you," said Mr. Bennington.
"O, I've got money enough to pay my bill,"[Pg 60] interposed Harvey Barth, who had a sufficiency of honest pride, and asked nothing for charity's sake.
The landlord showed him to a room, after he had shaken hands with and bidden adieu to John Carter, it was not the best room in the house, but it was neat and comfortable. Harvey inquired about the steamer to Rockland, and was told that she would probably come the next day, and return in the afternoon. The steward made himself comfortable, and ate a hearty43 dinner when it was ready. In the afternoon he borrowed a pen and ink, and began to write out a full account of the wreck of the Waldo. He wrote a large, round hand, which was enough to convince any one who saw it that he was or had been a schoolmaster. He worked his pen slowly and carefully, but he entered so minutely into the details of the disaster that he had not half finished the narrative44 when the supper bell rang.
Harvey did not resume the task again that day; he was too weary to do so. That night he was ill and feverish45, and in the morning had an attack of bleeding at the lungs. The landlord[Pg 61] sent for the doctor, but the patient was not able to leave in the steamer, which went in the afternoon. The landlord's wife nursed him carefully and kindly46, and in a week he began to improve. He had no further attack of bleeding, and he began to hope that he should live to get home. As soon as he was able to sit up in the bed, he resumed the writing up of the diary.
But we must leave him in his chamber thus occupied, to introduce the most important character of our story.
He was a rather tall and quite stout47 young fellow of sixteen. He was dressed in homely attire48, what there was of it, for he wore no coat, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up above his elbows, in order, apparently49, to give his arms more freedom. He was as tawny50 as the sailors of the Waldo had been, tanned by the hot suns of the West Indies. He had just come down the river from the principal wharf51, at the head of which was the fish market—a very important institution, where the product of the sea formed a considerable portion of the food of the people. The boat in which he sailed was an old, black, dingy52 affair, which needed to be baled[Pg 62] out more than once a day to keep her afloat. The sail was almost as black as the hull53, and had been patched and darned in a hundred places. The skipper and crew of this unsightly old craft was Leopold Bennington, the only son of the landlord of the Cliff House, though he had three daughters.
Leopold carried the anchor of his boat far up on the rocks above the beach, and thrust one of the arms down into a crevice54, where it would hold the boat. Taking from the dingy boat a basket which was heavy enough to give a considerable curve to his spine55 as he carried it, he climbed up the rocks to the street which extended along the shore of the river for half a mile. On the opposite side of it was the Cliff House. His father stood on the piazza56 of the house as the young man crossed the street.
"Well, Leopold, what luck had you to-day?" asked Mr. Bennington, as his son approached.
"First rate, father," replied the young man, as his bronzed face lighted up with enthusiasm.
"What did you get?" asked the landlord.
"Mackerel."[Pg 63]
"Mackerel!" exclaimed mine host, his face in turn lighting57 up with pleasure.
"Lots of them, father."
"We have hardly seen a mackerel this year yet. I never knew them to be so scarce since I have been on this coast."
"There hasn't been any caught before these for a month, and then only a few tinkers," added Leopold, as he removed the wet rock-weed with which he had covered the fish to protect them from the sun. "They are handsome ones, too."
"So they are—number ones every one of them, and some extra," said the landlord, as he raised the fish with his hand so that he could see them.
"They were the handsomest lot of mackerel I ever saw," continued the young fisherman, his face glowing with satisfaction. "I brought up three dozen for you, and sold the rest. I made a good haul to-day."
"Three dozen will be all we can use in the house, as big as those are. Two dozen would have been enough; we don't have many people here now. But where did you get them?"
"Just off High Rock, where the Waldo was[Pg 64] wrecked. I fished within a cable's length of the Ledges. I don't know but the sugar and molasses from the brig drew the mackerel around her," laughed Leopold, as he took an old black wallet from his pocket.
"Were there any other boats near you?" asked the prudent58 landlord.
"Not another one; folks are tired of trying for mackerel, and have given it up. I didn't expect to find any, but I happened to have my jigs59 in the boat; and for an hour I worked three of them as lively as any fellow ever did, I can tell you."
"Did they ask you at the fish market where you got them?"
"They did; but I didn't tell them," laughed the young man. "The mackerel fetched a good price. I counted off three hundred and twenty-four at ten cents apiece, and wouldn't take any less. They are scarce, and I saw them selling the fish at twenty cents apiece; so they will make as much as I do. Here is the money—thirty-two dollars and forty cents."
Harvey Barth, his Diary. Page 65. Harvey Barth, his Diary. Page 65.
[Pg 65]
"Keep it yourself, my boy. You shall have all you make, as long as you don't spend it for candy and nonsense. Now go up and see the sick man. He may want something, and all the folks have been busy this afternoon."
The landlord took the basket of fish and put them on the ice, while Leopold went up to Harvey Barth's chamber. The sick man did not want anything. He was sitting up in the bed, with his diary and a pen in his hands, while the inkstand stood on the little table with the medicine bottles.
"There," said Harvey to Leopold, who had been a frequent attendant during his sickness, "I have just finished writing up this date; and it contains the whole story of the wreck of the Waldo, and all that happened on board of her during the voyage."
"What is it? what are you writing, Mr. Barth?" asked the young man.
Harvey opened the book at the blank leaf in the beginning, and turned it towards his visitor.
"Harvey Barth. His diary," Leopold read. "I see; you keep a diary."
"I do. I wouldn't take a hundred dollars for that book, poor as I am," added Harvey, as he closed the volume and laid the pen on the table.[Pg 66]
"Shall I put it away for you?" asked Leopold.
"No; thank you; I'll take care of it myself," he replied as he proceeded to fold the book in its oil-cloth cover.
When Leopold had left the room, Harvey Barth enclosed the book in an old newspaper, and, getting out of bed, thrust the package up the flue of the little fireplace in the room, placing it on some projecting shelf or jamb which he had discovered there. He was very careful of the book, and seemed to be afraid some one might open it while he was asleep. Doubtless the diary contained secrets he was not willing others should discover; and certainly no one would think of looking in the flue of the fireplace for it.
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1
poetical
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| adj.似诗人的；诗一般的；韵文的；富有诗意的 | |
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2
seamen
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| n.海员 | |
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galley
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| n.（飞机或船上的）厨房单层甲板大帆船；军舰舰长用的大划艇； | |
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seaman
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| n.海员，水手，水兵 | |
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wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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7
malady
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| n.病，疾病(通常做比喻) | |
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doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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10
abated
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| 减少( abate的过去式和过去分词 )； 减去； 降价； 撤消（诉讼） | |
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westward
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| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
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12
steward
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| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
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13
exertions
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| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
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14
treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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15
declivity
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| n.下坡，倾斜面 | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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17
shipwreck
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| n.船舶失事，海难 | |
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wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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ledges
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| n.（墙壁，悬崖等）突出的狭长部分( ledge的名词复数 )；（平窄的）壁架；横档；（尤指）窗台 | |
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20
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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22
parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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25
housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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26
woolen
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| adj.羊毛(制)的；毛纺的 | |
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27
climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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29
hacking
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| n.非法访问计算机系统和数据库的活动 | |
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30
hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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32
ravenous
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| adj.极饿的，贪婪的 | |
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33
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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34
drenched
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| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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35
vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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37
quarries
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| n.（采）石场( quarry的名词复数 )；猎物（指鸟，兽等）；方形石；（格窗等的）方形玻璃v.从采石场采得( quarry的第三人称单数 )；从（书本等中）努力发掘（资料等）；在采石场采石 | |
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38
situated
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| adj.坐落在...的，处于某种境地的 | |
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39
extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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40
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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41
homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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42
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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43
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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44
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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45
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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46
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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48
attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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49
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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50
tawny
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| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
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51
wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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52
dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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53
hull
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| n.船身；(果、实等的)外壳；vt.去(谷物等)壳 | |
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54
crevice
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| n.(岩石、墙等)裂缝；缺口 | |
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55
spine
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| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
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56
piazza
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| n.广场；走廊 | |
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57
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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58
prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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59
jigs
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| n.快步舞（曲）极快地( jig的名词复数 )；夹具v.（使）上下急动( jig的第三人称单数 ) | |
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