AMONG THE SHOALS

BY J. F. COOPER

James Fenimore Cooper (1789–1851): A famous American novelist. His best novels describe backwoods and seafaring life, with both of which Cooper’s early experiences had made him familiar. The most popular of these stories are “Deerslayer,” “The Last of the Mohicans,” and “The Pilot.”

This selection is from “The Pilot,” the best of Cooper’s sea novels. The scene is laid during the American Revolution, and John Paul Jones, the hero of so many Revolutionary sea-fights,is one of the characters in the story.

Ⅰ

As the first mist of the gale passed over, it was succeeded by a faint light that was a good deal aided by the glittering foam of the waters, which now broke in white curls around the vessel in every direction. The land could be faintly discerned, rising like a heavy bank of black fog, above the margin of the waters, and was only distinguishable from the heavens by its deeper gloom and obscurity. The last rope was coiled and deposited in its proper place by the seamen, and for several minutes the stillness of death pervaded the crowded decks. It was evident to every one that their ship was dashing at a prodigious rate through the waves, and was approaching withshoals and dangers were known to be situated.

“Tack your ship, sir, tack your ship,” said the pilot to Griffith; “I would see how she works before we reach the pointwhere she must behave well or we perish.”

Griffith gazed after him, while the pilot gave forth the cheering order that called each man to his station to perform the desiredalee , than the huge ship bore up gallantly against the wind, and, dashing directly through the waves, threw the foam high into the air, as she looked boldly into the very eye of the wind; and then, yielding gracefully to its power, she fell off on the other tack, with her head pointed from those dangerous shoals that she had so recently approached with such terrifying velocity. The heavy yards swung round, as if they had been vanes to indicate the currents of the air; and in a few moments the frigate again moved with stately progress through the Water, leaving the rocks and shoals behind her on one side of the bay, but advancing toward those that offered equal danger on the other.

During this time the sea was becoming more agitated, and the violence of the wind was gradually increasing. The latter no longer whistled amid the cordage of the vessel, but it seemed to howl surlily as it passed the complicated machinery that the frigate obtruded in its path. An endless succession of white surges rose above the heavy billows, and the very air was glittering with the light that was disengaged from the ocean. The ship yielded each moment more and more before the storm, and in less than half an hour from the time that she had lifted her anchor she was driven along with tremendous fury by the full power of a gale of wind. Still the hardy and experienced mariners who directed her movements, held her to the course that was necessary to their preservation, and still Griffith gaveforth, when directed by their unknown pilot, those orders that turned her in the narrow channel where alone safety was to be found.

So far the performance of his duty appeared easy to the stranger, and he gave the required directions in those still, calm tones that formed so remarkable a contrast to the responsibility of his situation. But when the land was becoming dim in distance as well as darkness, and the agitated sea alone was to be discovered as it swept by them in foam, he broke in upon the monotonous roaring of the tempest with the sound of his voice, seeming to rouse himself to the occasion.

“Now is the time to watch her closely, Mr. Griffith,” he cried; “here we get the true tide and the real danger. Place the bestquartermaster of your ship in those chains, and let an officer stand by him and see that he gives us the right water.”

“I will take that office on myself,” said the captain; “pass alight into the weather main chains.”

“Stand by yourHeave away that lead!”

These preparations taught the crew to expect the crisis, and every officer and man stood in fearful silence at his assigned station, awaiting the issue of the trial. Even the quartermaster gave out his orders to the men at the wheel in deeper and hoarser tones than usual, as if anxious not to disturb the quiet and order of the vessel.

While this deep expectation pervaded the frigate the piercing cry of the leadsman, as he called “by themark seven,” rose above the tempest, crossed over the decks, and appeared to pass away to leeward, borne on the blast like the warnings of some water-spirit.

“‘Tis well,” returned the pilot calmly; “try it again.”

The short pause was succeeded by another cry, “and a half-five!”

“She shoals! she shoals!” exclaimed Griffith; “keep her a good full.”

“Aye! you must hold the vessel in command now,” said the pilot, with those cool tones that are most appalling in critical moments, because they seem to denote most preparation and care.

The third call, “by the deep four!” was followed by a prompt direction from the stranger to tack.

Griffith seemed to emulate the coolness of the pilot, in issuing the necessary orders to execute thismaneuver .

The vessel rose slowly from the inclined position into which she had been forced by the tempest, and the sails were shaking violently, as if to release themselves from their confinement, while the ship stemmed the billows, when the well-known voice of the sailing master was heard shouting from the forecastle: “Breakers! breakers, dead ahead!”

This appalling sound seemed yet to be lingering about the ship, when a second voice cried, “Breakers on our lee bow!”

“We are in a bight of the shoals, Mr. Gray!” cried the commander. “She loses her way; perhaps an anchor might hold her.”

“Clear away thatbest bower !” shouted Griffith through his trumpet.

“Hold on!” cried the pilot, in a voice that reached the very hearts of all who heard him; “hold on everything.”

The young man turned fiercely to the daring stranger who thus defied the discipline of his vessel, and at once demanded:“Who is it that dares to countermand my orders? Is it not enough that you run the ship into danger, but you must interfere to keep her there? If another word —”

“Peace, Mr. Griffith,” interrupted the captain, bending from the rigging, his gray locks blowing about in the wind and adding a look of wildness to the haggard care that he exhibited by the light of his lantern; “yield the trumpet to Mr. Gray; he alone can save us!”

Griffith threw his speaking trumpet on the deck, and as hewalked proudly away, muttered in bitterness of feeling: “Then all is lost indeed! and among the rest the foolish hopes with which I visited this coast.”

There was, however, no time for reply; the ship had been rapidly running into the wind, and as the efforts of the crew were paralyzed by the contradictory orders they had heard, she gradually lost her way and in a few seconds all her sails were taken aback.

Before the crew understood their situation, the pilot had applied the trumpet to his mouth, and, in a voice that rose above the tempest, he thundered forth his orders. Each command was given distinctly and with a precision that showed him to be master of his profession. The helm was kept fast, the head yards swung up heavily against the wind, and the vessel was soon whirling round on her heel with aretrograde movement.

Ⅱ

Griffith was too much of a seaman not to perceive that the pilot had seized with a perception almost intuitive the only method that promised to extricate the vessel from her situation. He was young, impetuous, and proud, but he was also generous. Forgetting his resentment and his mortification,he rushed forward among the men, and, by his presence and example, added certainty to the experiment. The ship fell off slowly before the gale, and bowed her yards nearly to the water as she felt the blast pouring its fury on her broadside, while the surly waves beat violently against her stern, as if in reproach at departing from her usual manner of moving.

The voice of the pilot, however, was still heard, steady and calm, and yet so clear and high as to reach every ear; and the obedient seamen whirled the yards at his bidding, in despite of the tempest, as if they handled the toys of their childhood. When the ship had fallen off dead before the wind, her head sails were shaken, her after yards trimmed, and her helm shifted before she had time to run upon the danger that had threatened, as well to leeward as to windward. The beautiful fabric, obedient to her government, threw her bows up gracefully toward the wind again; and, as her sails were trimmed, moved out from among the dangerous shoals in which she had been embayed, as steadily and swiftly as she had approached them.

A moment of breathless astonishment succeeded the accomplishment of this nice maneuver, but there was no time for the usual expressions of surprise. The stranger still held the trumpet, and continued to lift his voice amid the howlings of the blast, whenever prudence or skill required any change in the management of the ship. For an hour longer there was a fearful struggle for their preservation, the channel becoming at each step more complicated, and the shoals thickening around the mariners on every side. The lead was cast rapidly, and the quick eye of the pilot seemed to pierce the darkness with a keenness of vision that exceeded human power.

It was apparent to all that were in the vessel that they were under the guidance of one who understood the navigation thoroughly, and their exertions kept pace with their reviving confidence. Again and again the frigate appeared to be rushingblindly on shoals where the sea was covered with foam and where destruction would have been as sudden as it was certain, when the clear voice of the stranger was heard warning them of the danger and inciting them to do their duty. The vessel was implicitly yielded to his government; and during those anxious moments when she was dashing the waters aside, throwing the spray over her enormous yards, each ear would listen eagerly for those sounds that had obtained a command over the crew that can only be acquired under such circumstances by great steadiness andconsummate skill.

The ship was recovering from the inaction of changing her course in one of those critical tacks that she had made so often, when the pilot, for the first time, addressed the commander of the frigate, who still continued to superintend the allimportant duty of the leadsman.

“Now is the pinch,” he said, “and if the ship behaves well, we are safe; but if otherwise, all we have yet done will be useless.”

The veteran seaman whom he addressed left the chains at this portentous notice, and calling to his first lieutenant, required of the stranger an explanation of his warning.

“See you yon light on the southern headland?” returned the pilot; “you may know it from the star near it by its sinking at times in the ocean. Now observe thehummock a little north of it, looking like a shadow in the horizon; ’tis a hill far inland. If we keep that light open from the hill, we shall do well; but if not, we surely go to pieces.”

“Let us tack again!” exclaimed the lieutenant.

The pilot shook his head as he replied: “There is no more tacking orbox-hauling to be done to-night. We have barely room to pass out of the shoals on this course; and if we can weather the Devil’s Grip, we clear their outermost point; but if not, as I said before, there is but an alternative.”

“If we had beaten out the way we entered,” exclaimed Griffith, “we should have done well.”

“Say, also, if the tide would have let us do so,” returned the pilot, calmly. “Gentlemen, we must be prompt; we have but a mile to go, and the ship appears to fly. That topsail is not enough to keep her up to the wind; we want both jib and mainsail.”

“’Tis a perilous thing to loosen canvas in such a tempest!” observed the doubtful captain.

“It must be done,” returned the collected stranger; “we perish without it. See! the light already touches the edge of the hummock; the sea casts us to leeward!”

“It shall be done!” cried Griffith, seizing the trumpet from the hand of the pilot.

The orders of the lieutenant were executed almost as soon as issued; and everything being ready the enormous folds of the mainsail were turned loose to the blast. There was an instant when the result was doubtful; the tremendous threshing of the heavy sail seemed to bid defiance to all restraint, shaking the ship to her center; but art and strength prevailed and gradually the canvas was distended, and bellying as it filled, was drawndown to its usual place by the power of a hundred men. The vessel yielded to this immense addition of force and bowed before it like a reed bending to a breeze. But the success of the measure was announced by a joyful cry from the stranger, that seemed to burst from his inmost soul.

“She feels it! she springs her luff! observe,” he said, “the light opens from the hummock already: if she will only bear her canvas we shall go clear!”

A report like that of a cannon interrupted his exclamation, and something resembling a white cloud was seen drifting before the wind from the head of the ship, till it was driven into the gloom far to leeward.

“’Tis the jib, blown from theboltropes ,” said the commander of the frigate. “This is no time to spread light duck; but the mainsail may stand it yet.”

“The sail would laugh at a tornado,” returned the lieutenant; “but the mast springs like a piece of steel.”

“Silence all!” cried the pilot. “Now, gentlemen, we shall soon know our fate. Let herluff — luff you can!”

This warning effectually closed alldiscourse , and the hardy mariners, knowing that they had already done all in the power of man to insure their safety, stood in breathless anxiety, awaiting the result. At a short distance ahead of them the whole ocean was white with foam, and the waves, instead of rolling on in regular succession, appeared to be tossing about in mad gambols. A single streak of dark billows, not half a cable’s length in width, could be discerned running into this chaos of water; but it was soon lost to the eye amid the confusion of the disturbed element. Along this narrow path the vessel moved more heavily than before, being brought so near the wind as to keep her sails touching. The pilot silently proceeded to the wheel, and with his own hands he undertook the steerage of the ship. No noise proceeded from the frigate to interrupt the horrid tumult of the ocean; and she entered the channel among the breakers with the silence of a desperate calmness.

Twenty times, as the foam rolled away to leeward, the crew were on the eve of uttering their joy, as they supposed the vessel past the danger; but breaker after breaker would still heave up before them, following each other into the general mass, to check their exultation. Occasionally the fluttering of the sails would be heard; and when the looks of the startled seamen were turned to the wheel, they beheld the stranger grasping its spokes, with his quick eye glancing from the water to the canvas. At length the ship reached a point where she appeared to be rushing directly into the jaws of destruction, when suddenly her course was changed, and her head receded rapidly from the wind. At the same instant the voice of the pilot was heard shouting, “Square away the yards! in mainsail!”

A general burst from the crew echoed, “Square away the yards!” and quick as thought the frigate was seen gliding along the channel before the wind. The eye had hardly time to dwell on the foam, which seemed like clouds driving in the heavens, and directly the gallant vessel issued from her perils, and rose and fell on the heavy waves of the sea.

The seamen were yet drawing long breaths, and gazing about them like men recovered from a trance, when Griffith approached the man who had so successfully conducted them through their perils. The lieutenant grasped the hand of the other, as he said, “You have this night proved yourself a faithful pilot, and such a seaman as the world cannot equal.”