Tom Cringles Log | Page 5

an octagonal--shaped cone, like the weight of a window--sash, about eighteen inches long, and two inches diameter at the bottom, tapering away nearly to a point at top, where it was flattened, and a hole pierced for the line to be fastened to. At the lower end--the but--end, as I would say there was a hollow scooped out, and filled with grease, so that when the lead was cast, the quality of the soil, sand, or shells, or mud, that came up adhering to this lard, indicated, along with the depth of water, our situation in the North Sea; and by this, indeed, we guided our course, in the absence of all opportunity of ascertaining our position by observations of the sun.
The Captain consulted the chart--"Sand and shells; why, you should have deeper water, Mr Treenail. Any of the fishing--boats near you?"
"Not at present, sir; but we cannot be far off some of them."
"Well, let me know when you come near any of them."
A little after this, as became my situation, I rose and made my bow, and went on deck.
By this time the night had fallen, and it was thicker than ever, so that, standing beside the man at the wheel, you could not see farther forward than the booms; yet it was not dark, either,--that is, it was moonlight, so that the haze, thick as it was, had that silver gauze--like appearance, as if it had been luminous in itself, that cannot be described to any one who has not seen it. The gun had been fired just as I came on deck, but no responding tinkle gave notice of any vessel being in the neighbourhood. Ten minutes, it may have been a quarter of an hour, when a short roll of the drum was beaten from the forecastle, where I was standing. At the moment I thought I heard a holla, but I could not be sure. Presently I saw a small light, with a misty halo surrounding it, just under the bowsprit.
"Port your helm," sung out the boatswain,--"port your helm, or we shall be over a fishing--boat!"
A cry arose from beneath a black object was for an instant distinguishable and the next moment a crash was heard. The spritsailyard rattled, and broke off sharp'at the point where it crossed the bowsprit; and a heavy smashing thump against our bows told, in fearful language, that we had run her down. Three of the men and a boy hung on by the rigging of the bowsprit, and were brought safely on board; but two poor fellows perished with their boat. It appeared, that they had broken their bell; and although they saw us coming, they had no better means than shouting, and showing a light, to advertise us of their vicinity.
Next morning the wind once more chopped round, and the weather cleared, and in four--and--twenty hours thereafter we were off the mouth of the Elbe, with three miles of white foaming shoals between us and the land at Cuxhaven, roaring and hissing, as if ready to swallow us up. It was low water, and, as our object was to land the emissary at Cuxhaven, we had to wait, having no pilot for the port, although we had the signal flying for one all morning, until noon, when we ran in close to the green mound which constituted the rampart of the fort at the entrance. To our great surprise, when we hoisted our colours and pennant, and fired a gun to leeward, there was no flag hoisted in answer at the flag--staff, nor was there any indication of a single living soul on shore to welcome us. Mr Splinter and the Captain were standing together at the gangway--"Why, sir," said the former, "this silence somewhat surprises me: what say you, Cheragoux?" to the government emissary or messenger already mentioned, who was peering through the glass close by.
"Why, mi Lieutenant, I don't certain dat all ish right on sore dere.'
"No?" said Captain Deadeye; "why, what do you see?"
"It ish not so mosh vat I shee, as vat I no shee, sir, dat trembles me. It cannot surely be possib dat de Prussian an' Hanoverian troop have left de place, and dat dese dem Franceman ave advance so far as de Elbe autrefois, dat ish, once more?'
"French!" said Deadeye: 'poo, nonsense; no French hereabouts; none nearer than those cooped up in Hamburgh with Davoust, take my word for it."
"I sall take your vord for any ting else in de large vorld, mi Capitain; but I see someting glance behind dat rampart, parapet you call, dat look dem like de shako of de infanterie legere of dat willain de Emperor Napoleon. Ah! I see de red worsted epaulet of de grenadier also; sacre! vat is dat pof of vite smoke?"
What it