Wolves of the Sea | Page 7

to
witness, for in all the long voyage we encountered but one vessel in
that desolate ocean, a French armed corvette, fairly bristling with guns,
which ran in close enough to hail us, but seemed satisfied to permit us
to pass unvisited. I clung to the rail and watched its white sails
disappear until they resembled the wings of gulls, feeling more than
ever conscious of our helplessness. There were few among the
prisoners I had any desire to companion with--only two, as I recall
now--a law clerk from Sussex, a rather bright young fellow, but full of
strange notions, and an older man, who had seen service in Flanders.
We messed together, and pledged mutual friendship in the new land, a
pledge not destined to be fulfilled, as I never again saw nor heard of the
former after we went ashore, and the last glimpse I had of the older
man was as he was being loaded into a cart bound for some interior
plantation. God grant they both lived, and became again free men.
How those sodden hours and days dragged! How long were those black
nights, in which I lay sleepless, listening to indescribable noises, and
breathing the rank, poisonous air. The short time passed on deck was
my only solace, and yet even there I found little to interest, except a
continuous new hope. We were herded well forward, a rope dividing us
from the main deck, which space the passengers aft used as a
promenade. Here, between the foremast and the cabin, someone was
strolling idly about most of the time, or lounging along the rail out of
the sun. In time I came to recognize them all by sight, and learned, in
one way or another, something of their characteristics, and purpose in
taking this voyage. They were not an unusual lot, the majority planters
from the Colonies homeward bound, with occasionally a new emigrant
about to try for fortune beyond seas, together with one or two naval
officers. There were only three women aboard, a fat dowager, the
young lady I had noticed at embarkation, and her colored maid. Many
of the days were pleasant, with quiet sea and bright sunshine, and the
younger woman must have passed hours on deck during so long and
tedious a voyage. Yet it chanced I saw almost nothing of her. I heard
her presence on board discussed several times by others of our
company, but it somehow chanced that during my time in the open she
was usually below. Indeed I gained but one glimpse of the lady in the

first two weeks at sea, and then only as we were being ordered down to
our quarters for the night. Just as I was approaching the hatch to
descend, she appeared from within the cabin, accompanied by the
middle-aged planter, and the two advanced toward the rail. The
younger gallant, who was standing there alone, saw them the moment
they emerged, and hastened forward, bowing low, hat in hand. She
barely recognized him, her gaze traveling beyond the fellow toward the
disappearing line of prisoners. It was an evening promising storm, with
some motion to the sea, and a heavy bank of clouds visible off the port
quarter, brightened by flashes of zigzag lightning. The brig rolled
dizzily, so the cavalier sought to steady her steps, but she only laughed
at the effort, waving him aside, as she moved easily forward. Once with
hand on the rail, she ignored his presence entirely, looking first at the
threatening cloud, and then permitting her gaze to rest once more upon
the line of men descending through the hatch.
It had become my turn to go down, yet in that instant our eyes met
fairly, and I instantly knew she saw and recognized me. For a single
second our glances clung, as though some mysterious influence held us
to each other--then the angry guard struck me with the stock of his
piece.
"What er ye standin' thar fer?" he demanded savagely. "Go on
down--lively now."
I saw her clasping fingers convulsively grip the rail, and, even at that
distance, marked a sudden flame of color in her cheeks. That was all
her message to me, yet quite enough. Although we had never spoken,
although our names were yet unknown, I was no criminal to her mind,
no unrecognized prisoner beneath contempt, but a human being in
whom she already felt a personal interest, and to whom she extended
thought and sympathy. The blow of the gun-stock bruised my back, yet
it was with a smile and a light heart that I descended the ladder, deeply
conscious of a friend on board--one totally unable to serve me, perhaps,
yet nevertheless a friend. Even in our isolation, guarded in those narrow
quarters,