Willis the Pilot | Page 5

of the Rhine, at Staubach, or the falls of Niagara, are to the gushings of a sylvan rivulet. In a few minutes the Jackal river had converted the valley into a lake, in which the plantations and buildings appeared to be afloat, and rendering egress from Rockhouse nearly impossible.
However much of a colorist Willis might be, he could not have painted a storm with the eloquence of the elements that had cut short his observation.
"You will not attempt to embark in weather like this?" inquired Mrs. Becker anxiously.
"My duty it is to be on board," replied the Pilot.
"The craft that ventures to take you there will get swamped twenty times on the way," observed Becker.
"The worst of it is, the wind is from the east, and evidently carries waterspouts with it. These waterspouts strike a ship without the slightest warning, play amongst the rigging, whirl the sails about like feathers--sometimes carry them off bodily, or, if they do not do that, tear them to shreds and shiver the masts. In either case, the consequences are disagreeable."
"A reason for you to be thankful you are safe on shore with us!" remarked Mrs. Wolston.
"It is all very well for you, Mrs. Wolston, and you, Mrs. Becker, to talk in that way; your business in life is that of wives and mothers. But what will the Lords of the Admiralty say, when they hear that the sloop Nelson was wrecked whilst Master Willis, the boatswain, was skulking on shore like a land-rat?"
"Oh, they would only say there was one useful man more, and a victim the less," replied Fritz.
"Why, not exactly, Master Fritz; they would say that Willis was a poltroon or a deserter, whichever he likes; they would very likely condemn him to the yard-arm by default, and carry out the operation when they get hold of him. But I will not endanger any one else; all I want is the use of your canoe."
"What! brave this storm in a wretched seal-skin cockle-shell like that?"
"Would it not be offending Providence," hazarded Mary Wolston, "for one of God's creatures to abandon himself to certain death?"
"It would, indeed," added Mrs. Wolston; "true courage consists in facing danger when it is inevitable, but not in uselessly imperiling one's life; there stops courage, and temerity begins."
"If it is not pride or folly. I do not mean that with reference to you, Willis," hastily added Wolston; "I know that you are open as day, and that all your impulses arise from the heart."
"That is all very fine--but I must act; let me have the canoe. I want the canoe: that is my idea."
"Having lived fifteen years cut off from society," gravely observed Becker, "it may be that I have forgotten some of the laws it imposes; nevertheless, I declare upon my honor and conscience--"
"Let me have the canoe, otherwise I must swim to the ship."
"I declare," continued Becker, "that Willis exaggerates the requirements of his duty. There are stronger forces to which the human will must yield. It is one thing to desert one's post in the hour of danger, and another to have come on shore at the express desire of a superior officer, when the weather was fine, and nothing presaged a storm."
"If there is danger," continued the obstinate sailor, whom the united strength of the four men could scarcely restrain, "I ought to share it; that is my duty and I must."
"But," said Wolston, "all the boatswains and pilots in the world can do nothing against hurricanes and waterspouts; their duty consists in steering the ship clear of reefs and quicksands, and not in fighting with the elements."
"There is one thing you forget, Mr. Wolston."
"And what is that, Willis?"
"It is to be side by side with your comrades in the hour of calamity, to aid them if you can, and to perish with them if such be the will of Fate. At this moment, poor Littlestone may be on the point of taking up his winter quarters in the body of a shark. But there, if the sloop is lost while I am here on shore, I will not survive her; all that you can say or do will not prevent me doing myself justice."
At this moment Jack, who had disappeared during this discussion, unobserved, came in saturated to the skin with water, and in a state difficult to describe. Like the boots of Panurge, his feet were floating in the water that flowed from the rim of his cap.
"What is this?" exclaimed his mother. "You wilful boy, may I ask where, in all the world, you have been?"
"I have just come from the bay. O father and mother! O Mr. and Mrs. Wolston! O Master Willis! if you had only seen! The sea is furious; sometimes the waves rise to the skies and