The hut was built of half-trimmed trunks of trees laid on
each other, crossing at the four corners and running out at
unequal lengths, the chinks partly filled in with sods and moss.
each other, crossing at the four corners and running out at
unequal lengths, the chinks partly filled in with sods and moss.
Warner - World's Best Literature - v08 - Dah to Dra
" And out crawled a miser-
able boy, looking as if shrunk up with fear and famine. "Speak,
and tell me who you are, and what you do here," said Paul.
The poor fellow's jaws moved and quivered, but he did not utter
a sound. His spare frame shook, and his knees knocked against
each other as in an ague fit. Paul looked at him for a moment.
His loose shambly frame was nearly bare to the bones, his light
sunburnt hair hung long and straight round his thin jaws and
white eyes, that shone with a delirious glare, as if his mind had
been terror-struck. There was a sickly, beseeching smile about
## p. 4292 (#54) ############################################
4292
RICHARD HENRY DANA, SENIOR
his mouth. His skin, between the freckles, was as white as a
leper's, and his teeth long and yellow. He appeared like one
who had witnessed the destruction about him, and was the only
living thing spared, to make death seem more horrible.
"Who put you here to starve? " said Paul to him.
«< Nobody, sir. "
"Why did you come, then? »
>>>>
"Oh, I can't help it; I must come.
"Must!
And why must you? " The boy looked round tim-
idly, and crouching near Paul, said in a tremulous, low voice,
his eyes glancing fearfully through the chasm, ""Tis He, 'tis He
that makes me! " Paul turned suddenly round, and saw before
him for the first time the deserted tract of pine wood and sand
which has been described. "Who and where is he? " asked Paul
impatiently, expecting to see some one.
"There, there, in the wood yonder," answered the boy,
crouching still lower, and pointing with his finger, whilst his
hand shook as if palsied.
"I see nothing," said Paul, "but these pines. What possesses
you? Why do you shudder so, and look so pale? Do you take
the shadows of the trees for devils ? "
"Don't speak of them. They'll be on me, if you talk of
them here," whispered the boy eagerly. Drops of sweat stood
on his brow from the agony of terror he was in. As Paul looked
at the lad, he felt something like fear creeping over him.
turned his eyes involuntarily to the wood again. "If we must
not talk here," said he at last, "come along with me, and tell
me what all this means. " The boy rose, and followed close to
Paul.
"Is it the Devil you have seen, that you shake so? »
"You have named him; I never must," said the boy. "I have
seen strange sights, and heard sounds whispered close to my
ears, so full of spite, and so dreadful, I dared not look round
lest I should see some awful face at mine.
I've thought I felt it
touch me sometimes. "
"And what wicked thing have you done, that they should
haunt you so ? "
"Oh, sir, I was a foolhardy boy. Two years ago I was not
afraid of anything. Nobody dared go into the wood, or even so
much as over the rocks, to look at it, after what happened
there. "—"I've heard a foolish story," said Paul. -" So once, sir,
## p. 4293 (#55) ############################################
RICHARD HENRY DANA, SENIOR
4293
the thought took me that I would go there a-bird's-nesting, and
bring home the eggs and show to the men.
And it would never
go out of my mind after, though I began to wish I hadn't
thought any such thing. Every night when I went to bed I
would lie and say to myself, To-morrow is the day for me to
go;' and I did not like to be alone in the dark, and wanted some
one with me to touch me when I had bad dreams. And when
I waked in the morning, I felt as if something dreadful was
coming upon me before night. Well, every day,-I don't know
how it was, I found myself near this ridge; and every time I
went farther and farther up it, though I grew more and more
frightened. And when I had gone as far as I dared, I was
afraid to wait, but would turn and make away so fast that many
a time I fell down some of these places, and got lamed and
bruised. The boys began to think something, and would whis-
per each other and look at me; and when they found I saw
them, they would turn away. It grew hard for me to be one at
their games, though once I used to be the first chosen in I
can't tell how it was, but all this only made me go on; and as
the boys kept out of the way, I began to feel as if I must do
what I had thought of, and as if there was somebody, I couldn't
think who, that was to have me and make me do what he
pleased. So it went on, sir, day after day," continued the lad,
in a weak, timid tone, but comforted at finding one to tell his
story to; "till at last I reached as far as the hollow where you
just now frighted me so, when I heard you near me. I didn't
run off as I used to from the other places, but sat down under
the rock. Then I looked out and saw the trees. I tried to get
up and run home, but I couldn't; I dared not come out and go
round the corner of the rock. I tried to look another way, but
my eyes seemed fastened on the trees; I couldn't take 'em off.
At last I thought something told me it was time for me to go
on. I got up. "
Here poor Abel shook so that he seized hold of Paul's arm to
help him. Paul recoiled as if an unclean creature touched him.
The boy shrunk back.
"Go on," said Paul recovering himself. The boy took com-
fort from the sound of another's voice: "I went a little way
down the hollow, sir, as if drawn along. Then I came to a
steep place; I put my legs over to let myself down; my knees
grew so weak I dared not trust myself; I tried to draw them up,
-
## p. 4294 (#56) ############################################
4294
RICHARD HENRY DANA, SENIOR
but the strength was all gone out of them, and then my feet were
as heavy as if made of lead. I gave a screech, and there was a
yell close to me and for miles round, that nigh stunned me. I
can't say how, but the last thing I knew was my leaping along
the rocks, while there was nothing but flames of fire shooting
all round me. It was scarce midday when I left home; and
when I came to myself under the locusts it was growing dark. "
"Rest here awhile," said Paul, looking at the boy as at some
mysterious being, "and tell out your story. "
Glad at being in company, the boy sat down upon the grass,
and went on with his tale:-"I crawled home as well as I
could, and went to bed. When I was falling asleep I had the
same feeling I had when sitting over the rock. I dared not lie
in bed any longer, for I couldn't keep awake while there. Glad
was I when the day broke, and I saw a neighbor open his door
and come out. I was not well all day, and I tried to think
myself more ill than I was, because I somehow thought that
then I needn't go to the wood. But the next day He was not
to be put off; and I went, though I cried and prayed all the
way that I might not be made to go. But I could not stop till
I had got over the hill, and reached the sand round the wood.
When I put my foot on it, all the joints in me jerked as if they
would not hold together, so that I cried out with the pain. When
I came under the trees there was a deep sound, and great shad-
ows were all round me. My hair stood on end, and my eyes
kept glimmering; yet I couldn't go back. I went on till I
found a crow's nest. I climbed the tree, and took out the eggs.
The old crow kept flying round and round me. As soon as I
felt the eggs in my hand and my work done, I dropped from
the tree and ran for the hollow. I can't tell how it was, but it
seemed to me that I didn't gain a foot of ground-it was just
as if the whole wood went with me. Then I thought He had
me his.
The ground began to bend and the trees to move. At
last I was nigh blind. I struck against one tree and another
till I fell to the ground. How long I lay there I can't tell;
but when I came to I was on the sand, the sun blazing hot upon
me and my skin scorched up. I was so stiff and ached so, I
could hardly stand upright. I didn't feel or think anything
after this; and hardly knew where I was till somebody came
and touched me, and asked me whether I was walking in my
sleep; and I looked up and found myself close home.
## p. 4295 (#57) ############################################
RICHARD HENRY DANA, SENIOR
4295
me.
"The boys began to gather round me as if I were something
strange; and when I looked at them they would move back from
'What have you been doing, Abel? ' one of them asked me
at last. 'No good, I warrant you,' answered another, who stood
back of me. And when I turned around to speak to him he
drew behind the others, as if afraid I should harm him; - and I
was too weak and frightened to hurt a fly. 'See his hands;
they are stained all over. '-'And there's a crow's egg, as I'm
alive! ' said another. -'And the crow is the Devil's bird, Tom,
isn't it? ' asked a little boy. 'O Abel, you've been to that wood
and made yourself over to Him. '-They moved off one after
another, every now and then turning round and looking at me
as if I were cursed. After this they would not speak to me nor
come nigh me. I heard people talking, and saw them going
about, but not one of them all could I speak to, or get to come
near me; it was dreadful, being so alone! I met a boy that
used to be with me all day long; and I begged him not to go
off from me so, and to stop, if it were only for a moment.
'You played with me once,' said I; 'and won't you do so much.
as look at me, or ask me how I am, when I am so weak and ill
too? ' He began to hang back a little, and I thought from his
face that he pitied me. I could have cried for joy, and was
going up to him, but he turned away. I called out after him,
telling him that I would not so much as touch him with my
finger, or come any nearer to him, if he would only stop and
speak one word to me; but he went away shaking his head, and
muttering something, I hardly knew what,-how that I did not
belong to them, but was the Evil One's now. I sat down on a
stone and cried, and wished that I was dead; for I couldn't help
it, though it was wicked in me to do so. "
"And is there no one," asked Paul, "who will notice you or
speak to you? Do you live so alone now? " It made his heart
ache to look down upon the pining, forlorn creature before him.
"Not a soul," whined out the boy. "My grandmother is dead
now, and only the gentlefolks give me anything; for they don't
seem afraid of me, though they look as if they didn't like me,
and wanted me gone. All I can, I get to eat in the woods, and
I beg out of the village. But I dare not go far, because I don't
know when He will want me. But I am not alone, He's with
me day and night. As I go along the street in the daytime, I
feel Him near me, though I can't see Him; and it is as if He
## p. 4296 (#58) ############################################
4296
RICHARD HENRY DANA, SENIOR
were speaking to me; and yet I don't hear any words. He
makes me follow Him to that wood; and I have to sit the whole
day where you found me, and I dare not complain nor move, till
I feel He will let me go. I've looked at the pines, sometimes,
till I have seen spirits moving all through them. Oh, 'tis an
awful place; they breathe cold upon me when He makes me go
there. "
"Poor wretch! " said Paul.
"I'm weak and hungry, and yet when I try to eat, something
chokes me; I don't love what I eat. "
"Come along with me, and you shall have something to
nourish and warm you; for you are pale and shiver, and look
cold here in the very sun. ”
rolled down his
He got up and
The boy looked up at Paul, and the tears
cheeks at hearing one speak so kindly to him.
followed meekly after to the house.
Paul, seeing a servant in the yard, ordered the boy some-
thing to eat. The man cast his eye upon Abel, and then looked
at Paul as if he had not understood him. "I spoke distinctly
enough," said Paul; "and don't you see that the boy is nigh
starved? " The man gave a mysterious look at both of them,
and with a shake of his head as he turned away, went to do as
he was bid.
"What means the fellow? " said Paul to himself as he entered
the house. "Does he take me to be bound to Satan too? Yet
there may be bonds upon the soul, though we know it not; and
evil spirits at work within us, of which we little dream. And
are there no beings but those seen of mortal eye or felt by
mortal touch? Are there not passing in and around this piece
of moving mold, in which the spirit is pent up, those whom it
hears not? those whom it has no finer sense whereby to com-
mune with? Are all the instant joys that come and go, we
know not whence nor whither, but creations of the mind? Or
are they not rather bright and heavenly messengers, whom when
this spirit is set free it will see in all their beauty? whose
sweet sounds it will then drink in? Yes, it is, it is so; and all
around us is populous with beings, now invisible to us as this
circling air. "
The moon was down and the sky overcast when they began
to wind among the rocks. Though Paul's walks had lain of
late in this direction, he was not enough acquainted with the
## p. 4297 (#59) ############################################
RICHARD HENRY DANA, SENIOR
4297
passage to find his way through it in the dark. Abel, who had
traversed it often in the night, alone and in terror, now took
heart at having some one with him at such an hour, and of
fered unhesitatingly to lead. "The boy winds round those
crags with the speed and ease of a stream," said Paul; "not so
fast, Abel. "
"Take hold of the root which shoots out over your head, sir,
for 'tis ticklish work getting along just here. Do you feel it,
sir? "
"I have hold," said Paul.
"Let yourself gently down by it, sir. You needn't be a bit
afraid, for 'twill not give way; man couldn't have fastened it
stronger. "
This was the first time Abel had felt his power, or had been
of consequence to any one, since the boys had turned him out
from their games; and it gave him a momentary activity, and
an unsettled sort of spirit, which he had never known since
then. He had been shunned and abhorred; and he believed him-
self the victim of some demoniac power. To have another in
this fearful bondage with him, as Paul had intimated, was a
relief from his dreadful solitariness in his terrors and sufferings.
"And he said that it was I who was to work a curse on him,"
muttered Abel. "It cannot be, surely, that such a thing as I
am can harm a man like him! " And though Abel remembered
Paul's kindness, and that this was to seal his own doom too, yet
it stirred the spirit of pride within him.
"What are you muttering to yourself, there in the dark,"
demanded Paul; "or whom talk you with, you withered wretch ? »
Abel shook in every joint at the sound of Paul's harsh voice.
"It is so dreadfully still here," said Abel; "I hear nothing
but your steps behind me, and they make me start. " This was
true; for notwithstanding his touch of instant pride, his terrors
and his fear of Paul were as great as ever.
"Speak louder then," said Paul, "or hold your peace. I like
not your muttering; it bodes no good. "
"It may bring a curse to you, worse than that on me, if a
worse can be," said Abel to himself; "but who can help it? "
Day broke before they cleared the ridge; a drizzling rain
came on; and the wind, beginning to rise, drove through the
crevices in the rocks with sharp whistling sounds which seemed
to come from malignant spirits of the air.
## p. 4298 (#60) ############################################
4298
RICHARD HENRY DANA, SENIOR
They had scarcely entered the wood when the storm became
furious; and the trees, swaying and beating with their branches
against one another, seemed possessed of a supernatural madness,
and engaged in wild conflict, as if there were life and passion in
them; and their broken, decayed arms groaned like things in
torment. The terror of these sights and sounds was too much
for poor Abel; it nearly crazed him; and he set up a shriek that
for a moment drowned the noise of the storm. It startled Paul;
and when he looked at him, the boy's face was of a ghostly
whiteness. The rain had drenched him to the skin; his clothes
clung to his lean body, that shook as if it would come apart; his
eyes flew wildly, and his teeth chattered against each other. The
fears and torture of his mind gave something unearthly to his
look, that made Paul start back. "Abel-boy-fiend-speak!
What has seized you? "
"They told me so," cried Abel-"I've done it-I led the
way for you- they're coming, they're coming-we're lost! "
"Peace, fool," said Paul, trying to shake off the power he felt
Abel gaining over him, "and find us a shelter if you can. "
"There's only the hut," said Abel, "and I wouldn't go into
that if it rained fire. "
"And why not? "
"I once felt that it was for me to go, and I went so near
as to see in at the door. And I saw something in the hut - it
was not a man, for it flitted by the opening just like a shadow;
and I heard two muttering something to one another; it wasn't
like other sounds, for as soon as I heard it, it made me stop
my ears. I couldn't stay any longer, and I ran till I cleared
the wood. Oh! 'tis His biding-place, when He comes to the
wood. "
"And is it of His own building? " asked Paul, sarcastically.
"No," answered Abel; "'twas built by the two wood-cutters;
and one of them came to a bloody end, and they say the other
died the same night, foaming at the mouth like one possessed.
There it is," said he, almost breathless, as he crouched down and
pointed at the hut under the trees. "Do not go, sir,” he said.
catching hold of the skirts of Paul's coat,-"I've never dared go
nigher since. "-"Let loose, boy," cried Paul, striking Abel's
hand from his coat, "I'll not be fooled with. " Abel, alarmed at
being left alone, crawled after Paul as far as he dared go; then
taking hold of him once more, made a supplicating motion to
## p. 4299 (#61) ############################################
RICHARD HENRY DANA, SENIOR
4299
him to stop; he was afraid to speak. Paul pushed on without
regarding him.
The hut stood on the edge of a sand-bank that was kept
up by a large pine, whose roots and fibres, lying partly bare,
looked like some giant spider that had half buried himself in
the sand. On the right of the hut was a patch of broken
ground, in which were still standing a few straggling dried
stalks of Indian corn; and from two dead trees hung knotted
pieces of broken line, which had formerly served for a clothes-
line.
The hut was built of half-trimmed trunks of trees laid on
each other, crossing at the four corners and running out at
unequal lengths, the chinks partly filled in with sods and moss.
The door, which lay on the floor, was of twisted boughs; and
the roof, of the same, was caved in, and but partly kept out
the sun and rain.
As Paul drew near the entrance he stopped, though the
wind just then came in a heavy gust, and the rain fell like a
flood. It was not a dread of what he might see within; but
it seemed to him that there was a spell round him, drawing
him nearer and nearer to its centre; and he felt the hand of
some invisible power upon him. As he stepped into the hut
a chill ran over him, and his eyes shut involuntarily. Abel
watched him eagerly; and as he saw him enter, tossed his arms
wildly shouting, "Gone, gone! They'll have me
me too-they're
coming, they're coming! " and threw himself on his face to
the ground.
Driven from home by his maddening passions, a perverse
delight in self-torture had taken possession of Paul; and his
mind so hungered for more intense excitement, that it craved
to prove true all which its jealousy and superstition had
imaged. He had walked on, lost in this fearful riot, but with
no particular object in view, and taking only a kind of crazed
joy in his bewildered state. Esther's love for him, which he
at times thought past doubt feigned, the darkness of the night,
and then the driving storm with its confused motions and
sounds, made an uproar of the mind which drove out all
settled purpose or thought.
The stillness of the place into which he had now entered,
where was heard nothing but the slow, regular dripping of the
rain from the broken roof upon the hard-trod floor; the lowered
and distant sound of the storm without; the sudden change
## p. 4300 (#62) ############################################
4300
RICHARD HENRY DANA, SENIOR
from the whirl and swaying of the trees to the steady walls
of the building, put a sudden stop to the violent working of
his brain, and he gradually fell into a stupor.
When Abel began to recover, he could scarcely raise himself
from the ground. He looked round, but could see nothing of
Paul. "They have bound us together," said he; "and something
is drawing me toward him. There is no help for me; I must
go whither he goes. " As he was drawn nearer and nearer to
the hut he seemed to struggle and hang back, as if pushed on
against his will. At last he reached the doorway; and clinging
to its side with a desperate hold, as if not to be forced in, put
his head forward a little, casting a hasty glance into the building.
"There he is, and alive! " breathed out Abel.
Paul's stupor was now beginning to leave him; his recollec-
tion was returning; and what had passed came back slowly and
at intervals. There was something he had said to Esther before
leaving home-he could not tell what; then his gazing after her
as she drove from the house; then something of Abel,—and he
sprang from the ground as if he felt the boy's touch again about
his knees; then the ball-room, and a multitude of voices, and all
talking of his wife. Suddenly she appeared darting by him; and
Frank was there. Then came his agony and tortures again; all
returned upon him as in the confusion of some horrible trance.
Then the hut seemed to enlarge and the walls to rock; and
shadows of those he knew, and of terrible beings he had never
seen before, were flitting round him and mocking at him. His
own substantial form seemed to him undergoing a change, and
taking the shape and substance of the accursed ones at which he
looked. As he felt the change going on he tried to utter a cry,
but he could not make a sound nor move a limb. The ground
under him rocked and pitched; it grew darker and darker, till
everything was visionary; and he thought himself surrounded by
spirits, and in the mansions of the damned. Something like a
deep black cloud began to gather gradually round him. The
gigantic structure, with its tall terrific arches, turned slowly into
darkness, and the spirits within disappeared one after another,
till as the ends of the cloud met and closed, he saw the last of
them looking at him with an infernal laugh in his undefined
visage.
Abel continued watching him in speechless agony. Paul's
consciousness was now leaving him; his head began to swim
## p. 4301 (#63) ############################################
RICHARD HENRY DANA, SENIOR
4301
he reeled; and as his hand swept down the side of the hut,
while trying to save himself, it struck against a rusty knife that
had been left sticking loosely between the logs. "Let go, let
go! " shrieked Abel; "there's blood on 't-'tis cursed, 'tis cursed. "
As Paul swung round with the knife in his hand, Abel sprang
from the door with a shrill cry, and Paul sank on the floor,
muttering to himself, "What said They? »
When he began to come to himself a little, he was still sitting
on the ground, his back against the wall. His senses were yet
confused. He thought he saw his wife near him, and a bloody
knife by his side. After sitting a little longer his mind grad-
ually grew clearer, and at last he felt for the first time that his
hand held something. As his eye fell on it and he saw dis-
tinctly what it was, he leaped upright with a savage yell and
dashed the knife from him as if it had been an asp stinging
him. He stood with his bloodshot eyes fastened on it, his hands
spread, and his body shrunk up with horror. "Forged in hell!
and for me, for me! " he screamed, as he sprang forward and
seized it with a convulsive grasp. "Damned pledge of the
league that binds us! " he cried, holding it up and glaring
wildly on it. "And yet a voice did warn me of what, I know
not. Which of ye put it in this hand? Speak let me look on
you?
D'ye hear me, and will not answer? Nay, nay, what
needs it? This tells me, though it speaks not.
I know your
promptings now," he said, folding his arms deliberately; "your
work must be done; and I am doomed to it. "
-
## p. 4302 (#64) ############################################
T
4302
RICHARD HENRY DANA, JUNIOR
(1815-1882)
HE literary fame of Richard Henry Dana the younger rests on
a single book, produced at the age of twenty-five. Two
Years Before the Mast' stands unique in English literature:
it reports a man's actual experiences at sea, yet touches the facts
with a fine imagination. It is a bit of Dana's own life while on a
vacation away from college. The manner in which he got his
material was remarkable, but to the literature he came as by birth-
right, through his father, Richard Henry Dana the elder, then
a well-known poet, novelist, and essayist.
He was born in Cambridge in 1815, grow-
ing up in the intellectual atmosphere of
that university town, and in due course of
time entering Harvard College, where his
father and grandfather before him had been
trained in law and letters. An attack of
the measles during his third year at col-
lege left him with weakened eyes, and an
active outdoor life was prescribed as the
only remedy. From boyhood up he had
been passionately fond of the sea; small
wonder, then, that he now determined to
take a long sea voyage. Refusing a berth
R. H. DANA, JR.
offered him on a vessel bound for the East
Indies, he chose to go as common sailor before the mast, on a mer-
chantman starting on a two-years' trading voyage around Cape Horn
to California. At that time boys of good family from the New
England coast towns often took such trips. Dana indeed found a
companion in a former merchant's clerk of Boston. They left on
August 14th, 1834, doubled Cape Horn, spent many months in the
waters of the Pacific and on the coast of California, trading with the
natives and taking in cargoes of hides, and returned to Boston in
September, 1836. Young Dana, entirely cured of his weakness, re-
entered college, graduated the next year, and then went to study in
the law school of Harvard. During his cruise he had kept a journal,
which he now worked over into the narrative that made him famous,
and that bids fair to keep his name alive as long as boys, young or
old, delight in sea stories. It is really not a story at all, but
## p. 4303 (#65) ############################################
RICHARD HENRY DANA, JUNIOR
4303
describes with much vivacity the whole history of a long trading voy-
age, the commonplace life of the sailor with its many hardships,
including the savage brutality of captains with no restraint on passion
or manners, and scant recreations; the sea in storm and calm, and the
California coast before the gold fever, when but few Europeans were
settled there, and hides were the chief export of a region whose
riches lay still secreted under the earth. The great charm of the
narrative lies in its simplicity and its frank statement of facts. Dana
apparently did not invent anything, but depicted real men, men he
had intimately known for two years, calling them even by their own
names, and giving an unvarnished account of what they did and
said. He never hung back from work or shirked his duty. but
"roughed it" to the very end. As a result of these experiences, this
book is the only one that gives any true idea of the sailor's life.
Sea stories generally depend for their interest on the inventive skill
of their authors; Dana knew how to hold the attention by a simple
statement of facts. The book has all the charm and spontaneity of a
keenly observant yet imaginative and cultivated mind, alive to all
the aspects of the outer world, and gifted with that fine literary
instinct which, knowing the value of words, expresses its thoughts
with precision. Seafaring men have commented on his exactness in
reproducing the sailor's phraseology. The book was published in
1840, translated into several languages, and adopted by the British
Admiralty for distribution in the Navy. Few sailors are without a
copy in their chest. The Seaman's Friend,' which Dana published
in the following year, was inspired by his indignation at the abuses
he had witnessed in the merchant marine.
Dana did not follow up his first success, and his life henceforth
belongs to the history of the bar and politics of Massachusetts,
rather than to literature. The fame of his book brought to his law
office many admiralty cases. In 1848 he was one of the founders of
the Free Soil party; later he became an active abolitionist, and took
a large part in the local politics of his State. For a year he
lectured on international law in Harvard college. He contributed
to the North American Review, and wrote besides on various legal
topics. His one other book on travel, 'To Cuba and Back, a Vaca-
tion Voyage,' the fruit of a trip to that island in 1859, though well
written, never became popular. He retired from his profession in
1877, and spent the last years of his life in Paris and Italy. He
died in Rome, January 6th, 1882.
## p. 4304 (#66) ############################################
4304
RICHARD HENRY DANA, JUNIOR
A DRY GALE
From Two Years Before the Mast
WⓇ
E HAD been below but a short time before we had the
usual premonitions of a coming gale,- seas washing over
the whole forward part of the vessel, and her bows beat-
ing against them with a force and sound like the driving of
piles. The watch, too, seemed very busy trampling about decks
and singing out at the ropes. A sailor can tell by the sound
what sail is coming in; and in a short time we heard the top-
gallant-sails come in, one after another, and then the flying jib.
This seemed to ease her a good deal, and we were fast going
off to the land of Nod, when-bang, bang, bang on the scuttle,
and "All hands, reef topsails, ahoy! " started us out of our
berths, and it not being very cold weather, we had nothing
extra to put on, and were soon on deck. I shall never forget
the fineness of the sight. It was a clear and rather a chilly
night; the stars were twinkling with an intense brightness, and
as far as the eye could reach there was not a cloud to be seen.
The horizon met the sea in a defined line. A painter could not
have painted so clear a sky. There was not a speck upon it.
Yet it was blowing great guns from the northwest. When you
can see a cloud to windward, you feel that there is a place for
the wind to come from; but here it seemed to come from no-
where. No person could have told from the heavens, by their
eyesight alone, that it was not a still summer's night. One reef
after another we took in the topsails, and before we could get
them hoisted up we heard a sound like a short quick rattling of
thunder, and the jib was blown to atoms out of the bolt-rope.
We got the topsails set, and the fragments of the jib stowed
away, and the foretopmast staysail set in its place, when the
great mainsail gaped open, and the sail ripped from head to
foot. "Lay up on that main yard and furl the sail, before it
blows to tatters! " shouted the captain; and in a moment we
were up, gathering the remains of it upon the yard. We got it
wrapped round the yard, and passed gaskets over it as snugly
as possible, and were just on deck again, when with another
loud rent, which was heard throughout the ship, the foretopsail,
which had been double-reefed, split in two athwartships, just
below the reef-band, from earing to earing. Here again it was—
## p. 4305 (#67) ############################################
RICHARD HENRY DANA, JUNIOR
4305
down yard, haul out reef-tackles, and lay out upon the yard for
reefing. By hauling the reef-tackles chock-a-block we took the
strain from the other earings, and passing the close-reef earing,
and knotting the points carefully, we succeeded in setting the
sail, close reefed.
We had but just got the rigging coiled up, and were waiting
to hear "Go below the watch! " when the main royal worked
loose from the gaskets, and blew directly out to leeward, flap-
ping and shaking the mast like a wand. Here was a job for
somebody. The royal must come in or be cut adrift, or the mast
would be snapped short off. All the light hands in the starboard
watch were sent up one after another, but they could do nothing
with it. At length John, the tall Frenchman, the head of the
starboard watch (and a better sailor never stepped upon a deck),
sprang aloft, and by the help of his long arms and legs suc-
ceeded after a hard struggle,- the sail blowing over the yard-
arm to leeward, and the skysail adrift directly over his head,-
in smothering it and frapping it with long pieces of sinnet. He
came very near being blown or shaken from the yard several
times, but he was a true sailor, every finger a fish-hook. Hav-
ing made the sail snug, he prepared to send the yard down,
which was a long and difficult job; for frequently he was obliged
to stop and hold on with all his might for several minutes, the
ship pitching so as to make it impossible to do anything else at
that height. The yard at length came down safe, and after it
the fore and mizzen royal yards were sent down. All hands
were then sent aloft, and for an hour or two we were hard at
work, making the booms well fast, unreeving the studding sail
and royal and skysail gear, getting rolling-ropes on the yard,
setting up the weather breast-backstays, and making other prep-
arations for a storm. It was a fine night for a gale, just cool
and bracing enough for quick work, without being cold, and as
bright as day. It was sport to have a gale in such weather as
this. Yet it blew like a hurricane. The wind seemed to come
with a spite, an edge to it, which threatened to scrape us off the
yards. The force of the wind was greater than I had ever felt
it before; but darkness, cold, and wet are the worst parts of a
storm to a sailor.
-
Having got on deck again, we looked round to see what time
of night it was, and whose watch. In a few minutes the man.
at the wheel struck four bells, and we found that the other
VIII-270
## p. 4306 (#68) ############################################
4306
RICHARD HENRY DANA, JUNIOR
watch was out and our own half out. Accordingly the starboard
watch went below, and left the ship to us for a couple of hours,
yet with orders to stand by for a call.
Hardly had they got below before away went the foretop-
mast staysail, blown to ribands. This was a small sail, which
we could manage in the watch, so that we were not obliged to
call up the other watch. We laid upon the bowsprit, where we
were under water half the time, and took in the fragments of
the sail; and as she must have some headsail on her, prepared
to bend another staysail. We got the new one out into the net-
tings; seized on the tack, sheets, and halyards, and the hanks;
manned the halyards, cut adrift the frapping-lines, and hoisted
away; but before it was half-way up the stay it was blown all
to pieces. When we belayed the halyards, there was nothing
left but the bolt-rope. Now large eyes began to show them-
selves in the foresail; and knowing that it must soon go, the
mate ordered us upon the yard to furl it. Being unwilling to
call up the watch, who had been on deck all night, he roused
out the carpenter, sailmaker, cook, and steward, and with their
help we manned the foreyard, and after nearly half an hour's
struggle, mastered the sail and got it well furled round the
yard. The force of the wind had never been greater than at
this moment. In going up the rigging it seemed absolutely to
pin us down to the shrouds; and on the yard there was no such
thing as turning a face to windward. Yet there was no driving
sleet and darkness and wet and cold as off Cape Horn; and
instead of stiff oilcloth suits, southwester caps, and thick boots,
we had on hats, round jackets, duck trousers, light shoes, and
everything light and easy. These things make a great differ-
ence to a sailor. When we got on deck the man at the wheel
struck eight bells (four o'clock in the morning), and "All star-
bowlines, ahoy! " brought the other watch up, but there was no
going below for us. The gale was now at its height, "blowing
like scissors and thumb-screws"; the captain was on deck; the
ship, which was light, rolling and pitching as though she would
shake the long sticks out of her, and the sails were gaping open
and splitting in every direction. The mizzen-topsail, which was
a comparatively new sail and close reefed, split from head to
foot in the bunt; the foretopsail went in one rent from clew to
earing, and was blowing to tatters; one of the chain bobstays
parted; the spritsailyard sprung in the slings, the martingale
## p. 4307 (#69) ############################################
RICHARD HENRY DANA, JUNIOR
4307
had slued away off to leeward; and owing to the long dry
weather the lee rigging hung in large bights at every lurch.
One of the main-topgallant shrouds had parted; and to crown
all, the galley had got adrift and gone over to leeward, and the
anchor on the lee bow had worked loose and was thumping the
side. Here was work enough for all hands for half a day. Our
gang laid out on the mizzen-topsailyard, and after more than
half an hour's hard work furled the sail, though it bellied out
over our heads, and again, by a slat of the wind, blew in
under the yard with a fearful jerk and almost threw us off
from the foot-ropes.
Double gaskets were passed round the yards, rolling tackles
and other gear bowsed taut, and everything made as secure as it
could be. Coming down, we found the rest of the crew just
coming down the fore rigging, having furled the tattered top-
sail, or rather, swathed it round the yard, which looked like a
broken limb bandaged. There was no sail now on the ship but
the spanker and the close-reefed main-topsail, which still held
good. But this was too much after-sail, and order was given to
furl the spanker. The brails were hauled up, and all the light
hands in the starboard watch sent out on the gaff to pass the
gaskets; but they could do nothing with it. The second mate
swore at them for a parcel of "sogers," and sent up a couple of
the best men; but they could do no better, and the gaff was
lowered down. All hands were now employed in setting up the
lee rigging, fishing the spritsail yard, lashing the galley, and
getting tackles upon the martingale, to bowse it to windward.
Being in the larboard watch, my duty was forward, to assist in
setting up the martingale. Three of us were out on the martin-
gale guys and back-ropes for more than half an hour, carrying
out, hooking, and unhooking the tackles, several times buried in
the seas, until the mate ordered us in from fear of our being
washed off. The anchors were then to be taken up on the rail,
which kept all hands on the forecastle for an hour, though every
now and then the seas broke over it, washing the rigging off to
leeward, filling the lee scuppers breast-high, and washing chock
aft to the taffrail.
Having got everything secure again, we were promising our-
selves some breakfast, for it was now nearly nine o'clock in the
forenoon, when the main-topsail showed evident signs of giving
way. Some sail must be kept on the ship, and the captain
## p. 4308 (#70) ############################################
4308
RICHARD HENRY DANA, JUNIOR
ordered the fore and main spencer gaffs to be lowered down,
and the two spencers (which were storm sails; brand-new, small,
and made of the strongest canvas) to be got up and bent; leav-
ing the main-topsail to blow away, with a blessing on it, if it
would only last until we could set the spencers. These we bent
on very carefully, with strong robands and seizings, and making
tackles fast to the clews, bowsed them down to the water-ways.
By this time the main-topsail was among the things that have
been, and we went aloft to stow away the remnant of the last
sail of all those which were on the ship twenty-four hours before.
The spencers were now the only whole sails on the ship, and
being strong and small, and near the deck, presenting but little
surface to the wind above the rail, promised to hold out well.
Hove-to under these, and eased by having no sail above the
tops, the ship rose and fell, and drifted off to leeward like a line-
of-battle ship.
It was now eleven o'clock, and the watch was sent below to
get breakfast, and at eight bells (noon), as everything was snug,
although the gale had not in the least abated, the watch was
set and the other watch and idlers sent below. For three days
and three nights the gale continued with unabated fury, and
with singular regularity. There were no lulls, and very little
variation in its fierceness. Our ship, being light, rolled so as
almost to send the fore yard-arm under water, and drifted off
bodily to leeward. All this time there was not a cloud to be
seen in the sky, day or night; no, not so large as a man's hand.
Every morning the sun rose cloudless from the sea, and set
again at night in the sea in a flood of light. The stars, too,
came out of the blue one after another, night after night, unob-
scured, and twinkled as clear as on a still frosty night at home,
until the day came upon them. All this time the sea was roll-
ing in immense surges, white with foam, as far as the eye could
reach, on every side; for we were now leagues and leagues
from shore.
## p. 4309 (#71) ############################################
RICHARD HENRY DANA, JUNIOR
4309
EVERY-DAY SEA LIFE
From Two Years Before the Mast
THE
HE sole object was to make the time pass on. Any change
was sought for which would break the monotony of the
time; and even the two-hours' trick at the wheel, which
came round to us in turn, once in every other watch, was looked
upon as a relief. The never-failing resource of long yarns,
which eke out many a watch, seemed to have failed us now; for
we had been so long together that we had heard each other's
stories told over and over again till we had them by heart; each
one knew the whole history of each of the others, and we were
fairly and literally talked out. Singing and joking we were in
no humor for; and in fact any sound of mirth or laughter would
have struck strangely upon our ears, and would not have been
tolerated any more than whistling or a wind instrument. The
last resort, that of speculating upon the future, seemed now to
fail us; for our discouraging situation, and the danger we were
really in (as we expected every day to find ourselves drifted
back among the ice), "clapped a stopper" upon all that. From
saying when we get home," we began insensibly to alter it "if
we get home," and at last the subject was dropped by a tacit
«<
consent.
struck out, and a
In this state of things a new light was
new field opened, by a change in the watch. One of our watch
was laid up for two or three days by a bad hand (for in cold
weather the least cut or bruise ripens into a sore), and his place
was supplied by the carpenter. This was a windfall, and there
was a contest who should have the carpenter to walk with him.
As "Chips" was a man of some little education, and he and I
had had a good deal of intercourse with each other, he fell in
with me in my walk. He was a Finn, but spoke English well,
and gave me long accounts of his country,- the customs, the
trade, the towns, what little he knew of the government (I found
he was no friend of Russia), his voyages, his first arrival in
America, his marriage and courtship; he had married a country-
woman of his, a dressmaker, whom he met with in Boston. I
had very little to tell him of my quiet sedentary life at home;
and in spite of our best efforts, which had protracted these yarns
through five or six watches, we fairly talked each other out, and
## p. 4310 (#72) ############################################
4310
RICHARD HENRY DANA, JUNIOR
I turned him over to another man in the watch and put myself
upon my own resources.
I commenced a deliberate system of time-killing, which united
some profit with a cheering-up of the heavy hours. As soon as
I came on deck, and took my place and regular walk, I began
with repeating over to myself in regular order a string of mat-
ters which I had in my memory,-the multiplication table and
the table of weights and measures; the Kanaka numerals; then
the States of the Union, with their capitals; the counties of
England, with their shire towns, and the kings of England in
their order, and other things. This carried me through my
facts, and being repeated deliberately, with long intervals, often
eked out the first two bells. Then came the Ten Command-
ments, the thirty-ninth chapter of Job, and a few other passages
from Scripture. The next in the order, which I seldom varied
from, came Cowper's 'Castaway,' which was a great favorite
with me; its solemn measure and gloomy character, as well as
the incident it was founded upon, making it well suited to a
lonely watch at sea. Then his 'Lines to Mary,' his address to the
Jackdaw, and a short extract from Table Talk' (I abounded in
Cowper, for I happened to have a volume of his poems in my
chest); 'Ille et nefasto' from Horace, and Goethe's 'Erl-König. '
After I had got through these, I allowed myself a more general
range among everything that I could remember, both in prose
and verse. In this way, with an occasional break by relieving
the wheel, heaving the log, and going to the scuttle-butt for a
drink of water, the longest watch was passed away; and I was
so regular in my silent recitations that if there was no inter-
ruption by ship's duty I could tell very nearly the number of
bells by my progress.
able boy, looking as if shrunk up with fear and famine. "Speak,
and tell me who you are, and what you do here," said Paul.
The poor fellow's jaws moved and quivered, but he did not utter
a sound. His spare frame shook, and his knees knocked against
each other as in an ague fit. Paul looked at him for a moment.
His loose shambly frame was nearly bare to the bones, his light
sunburnt hair hung long and straight round his thin jaws and
white eyes, that shone with a delirious glare, as if his mind had
been terror-struck. There was a sickly, beseeching smile about
## p. 4292 (#54) ############################################
4292
RICHARD HENRY DANA, SENIOR
his mouth. His skin, between the freckles, was as white as a
leper's, and his teeth long and yellow. He appeared like one
who had witnessed the destruction about him, and was the only
living thing spared, to make death seem more horrible.
"Who put you here to starve? " said Paul to him.
«< Nobody, sir. "
"Why did you come, then? »
>>>>
"Oh, I can't help it; I must come.
"Must!
And why must you? " The boy looked round tim-
idly, and crouching near Paul, said in a tremulous, low voice,
his eyes glancing fearfully through the chasm, ""Tis He, 'tis He
that makes me! " Paul turned suddenly round, and saw before
him for the first time the deserted tract of pine wood and sand
which has been described. "Who and where is he? " asked Paul
impatiently, expecting to see some one.
"There, there, in the wood yonder," answered the boy,
crouching still lower, and pointing with his finger, whilst his
hand shook as if palsied.
"I see nothing," said Paul, "but these pines. What possesses
you? Why do you shudder so, and look so pale? Do you take
the shadows of the trees for devils ? "
"Don't speak of them. They'll be on me, if you talk of
them here," whispered the boy eagerly. Drops of sweat stood
on his brow from the agony of terror he was in. As Paul looked
at the lad, he felt something like fear creeping over him.
turned his eyes involuntarily to the wood again. "If we must
not talk here," said he at last, "come along with me, and tell
me what all this means. " The boy rose, and followed close to
Paul.
"Is it the Devil you have seen, that you shake so? »
"You have named him; I never must," said the boy. "I have
seen strange sights, and heard sounds whispered close to my
ears, so full of spite, and so dreadful, I dared not look round
lest I should see some awful face at mine.
I've thought I felt it
touch me sometimes. "
"And what wicked thing have you done, that they should
haunt you so ? "
"Oh, sir, I was a foolhardy boy. Two years ago I was not
afraid of anything. Nobody dared go into the wood, or even so
much as over the rocks, to look at it, after what happened
there. "—"I've heard a foolish story," said Paul. -" So once, sir,
## p. 4293 (#55) ############################################
RICHARD HENRY DANA, SENIOR
4293
the thought took me that I would go there a-bird's-nesting, and
bring home the eggs and show to the men.
And it would never
go out of my mind after, though I began to wish I hadn't
thought any such thing. Every night when I went to bed I
would lie and say to myself, To-morrow is the day for me to
go;' and I did not like to be alone in the dark, and wanted some
one with me to touch me when I had bad dreams. And when
I waked in the morning, I felt as if something dreadful was
coming upon me before night. Well, every day,-I don't know
how it was, I found myself near this ridge; and every time I
went farther and farther up it, though I grew more and more
frightened. And when I had gone as far as I dared, I was
afraid to wait, but would turn and make away so fast that many
a time I fell down some of these places, and got lamed and
bruised. The boys began to think something, and would whis-
per each other and look at me; and when they found I saw
them, they would turn away. It grew hard for me to be one at
their games, though once I used to be the first chosen in I
can't tell how it was, but all this only made me go on; and as
the boys kept out of the way, I began to feel as if I must do
what I had thought of, and as if there was somebody, I couldn't
think who, that was to have me and make me do what he
pleased. So it went on, sir, day after day," continued the lad,
in a weak, timid tone, but comforted at finding one to tell his
story to; "till at last I reached as far as the hollow where you
just now frighted me so, when I heard you near me. I didn't
run off as I used to from the other places, but sat down under
the rock. Then I looked out and saw the trees. I tried to get
up and run home, but I couldn't; I dared not come out and go
round the corner of the rock. I tried to look another way, but
my eyes seemed fastened on the trees; I couldn't take 'em off.
At last I thought something told me it was time for me to go
on. I got up. "
Here poor Abel shook so that he seized hold of Paul's arm to
help him. Paul recoiled as if an unclean creature touched him.
The boy shrunk back.
"Go on," said Paul recovering himself. The boy took com-
fort from the sound of another's voice: "I went a little way
down the hollow, sir, as if drawn along. Then I came to a
steep place; I put my legs over to let myself down; my knees
grew so weak I dared not trust myself; I tried to draw them up,
-
## p. 4294 (#56) ############################################
4294
RICHARD HENRY DANA, SENIOR
but the strength was all gone out of them, and then my feet were
as heavy as if made of lead. I gave a screech, and there was a
yell close to me and for miles round, that nigh stunned me. I
can't say how, but the last thing I knew was my leaping along
the rocks, while there was nothing but flames of fire shooting
all round me. It was scarce midday when I left home; and
when I came to myself under the locusts it was growing dark. "
"Rest here awhile," said Paul, looking at the boy as at some
mysterious being, "and tell out your story. "
Glad at being in company, the boy sat down upon the grass,
and went on with his tale:-"I crawled home as well as I
could, and went to bed. When I was falling asleep I had the
same feeling I had when sitting over the rock. I dared not lie
in bed any longer, for I couldn't keep awake while there. Glad
was I when the day broke, and I saw a neighbor open his door
and come out. I was not well all day, and I tried to think
myself more ill than I was, because I somehow thought that
then I needn't go to the wood. But the next day He was not
to be put off; and I went, though I cried and prayed all the
way that I might not be made to go. But I could not stop till
I had got over the hill, and reached the sand round the wood.
When I put my foot on it, all the joints in me jerked as if they
would not hold together, so that I cried out with the pain. When
I came under the trees there was a deep sound, and great shad-
ows were all round me. My hair stood on end, and my eyes
kept glimmering; yet I couldn't go back. I went on till I
found a crow's nest. I climbed the tree, and took out the eggs.
The old crow kept flying round and round me. As soon as I
felt the eggs in my hand and my work done, I dropped from
the tree and ran for the hollow. I can't tell how it was, but it
seemed to me that I didn't gain a foot of ground-it was just
as if the whole wood went with me. Then I thought He had
me his.
The ground began to bend and the trees to move. At
last I was nigh blind. I struck against one tree and another
till I fell to the ground. How long I lay there I can't tell;
but when I came to I was on the sand, the sun blazing hot upon
me and my skin scorched up. I was so stiff and ached so, I
could hardly stand upright. I didn't feel or think anything
after this; and hardly knew where I was till somebody came
and touched me, and asked me whether I was walking in my
sleep; and I looked up and found myself close home.
## p. 4295 (#57) ############################################
RICHARD HENRY DANA, SENIOR
4295
me.
"The boys began to gather round me as if I were something
strange; and when I looked at them they would move back from
'What have you been doing, Abel? ' one of them asked me
at last. 'No good, I warrant you,' answered another, who stood
back of me. And when I turned around to speak to him he
drew behind the others, as if afraid I should harm him; - and I
was too weak and frightened to hurt a fly. 'See his hands;
they are stained all over. '-'And there's a crow's egg, as I'm
alive! ' said another. -'And the crow is the Devil's bird, Tom,
isn't it? ' asked a little boy. 'O Abel, you've been to that wood
and made yourself over to Him. '-They moved off one after
another, every now and then turning round and looking at me
as if I were cursed. After this they would not speak to me nor
come nigh me. I heard people talking, and saw them going
about, but not one of them all could I speak to, or get to come
near me; it was dreadful, being so alone! I met a boy that
used to be with me all day long; and I begged him not to go
off from me so, and to stop, if it were only for a moment.
'You played with me once,' said I; 'and won't you do so much.
as look at me, or ask me how I am, when I am so weak and ill
too? ' He began to hang back a little, and I thought from his
face that he pitied me. I could have cried for joy, and was
going up to him, but he turned away. I called out after him,
telling him that I would not so much as touch him with my
finger, or come any nearer to him, if he would only stop and
speak one word to me; but he went away shaking his head, and
muttering something, I hardly knew what,-how that I did not
belong to them, but was the Evil One's now. I sat down on a
stone and cried, and wished that I was dead; for I couldn't help
it, though it was wicked in me to do so. "
"And is there no one," asked Paul, "who will notice you or
speak to you? Do you live so alone now? " It made his heart
ache to look down upon the pining, forlorn creature before him.
"Not a soul," whined out the boy. "My grandmother is dead
now, and only the gentlefolks give me anything; for they don't
seem afraid of me, though they look as if they didn't like me,
and wanted me gone. All I can, I get to eat in the woods, and
I beg out of the village. But I dare not go far, because I don't
know when He will want me. But I am not alone, He's with
me day and night. As I go along the street in the daytime, I
feel Him near me, though I can't see Him; and it is as if He
## p. 4296 (#58) ############################################
4296
RICHARD HENRY DANA, SENIOR
were speaking to me; and yet I don't hear any words. He
makes me follow Him to that wood; and I have to sit the whole
day where you found me, and I dare not complain nor move, till
I feel He will let me go. I've looked at the pines, sometimes,
till I have seen spirits moving all through them. Oh, 'tis an
awful place; they breathe cold upon me when He makes me go
there. "
"Poor wretch! " said Paul.
"I'm weak and hungry, and yet when I try to eat, something
chokes me; I don't love what I eat. "
"Come along with me, and you shall have something to
nourish and warm you; for you are pale and shiver, and look
cold here in the very sun. ”
rolled down his
He got up and
The boy looked up at Paul, and the tears
cheeks at hearing one speak so kindly to him.
followed meekly after to the house.
Paul, seeing a servant in the yard, ordered the boy some-
thing to eat. The man cast his eye upon Abel, and then looked
at Paul as if he had not understood him. "I spoke distinctly
enough," said Paul; "and don't you see that the boy is nigh
starved? " The man gave a mysterious look at both of them,
and with a shake of his head as he turned away, went to do as
he was bid.
"What means the fellow? " said Paul to himself as he entered
the house. "Does he take me to be bound to Satan too? Yet
there may be bonds upon the soul, though we know it not; and
evil spirits at work within us, of which we little dream. And
are there no beings but those seen of mortal eye or felt by
mortal touch? Are there not passing in and around this piece
of moving mold, in which the spirit is pent up, those whom it
hears not? those whom it has no finer sense whereby to com-
mune with? Are all the instant joys that come and go, we
know not whence nor whither, but creations of the mind? Or
are they not rather bright and heavenly messengers, whom when
this spirit is set free it will see in all their beauty? whose
sweet sounds it will then drink in? Yes, it is, it is so; and all
around us is populous with beings, now invisible to us as this
circling air. "
The moon was down and the sky overcast when they began
to wind among the rocks. Though Paul's walks had lain of
late in this direction, he was not enough acquainted with the
## p. 4297 (#59) ############################################
RICHARD HENRY DANA, SENIOR
4297
passage to find his way through it in the dark. Abel, who had
traversed it often in the night, alone and in terror, now took
heart at having some one with him at such an hour, and of
fered unhesitatingly to lead. "The boy winds round those
crags with the speed and ease of a stream," said Paul; "not so
fast, Abel. "
"Take hold of the root which shoots out over your head, sir,
for 'tis ticklish work getting along just here. Do you feel it,
sir? "
"I have hold," said Paul.
"Let yourself gently down by it, sir. You needn't be a bit
afraid, for 'twill not give way; man couldn't have fastened it
stronger. "
This was the first time Abel had felt his power, or had been
of consequence to any one, since the boys had turned him out
from their games; and it gave him a momentary activity, and
an unsettled sort of spirit, which he had never known since
then. He had been shunned and abhorred; and he believed him-
self the victim of some demoniac power. To have another in
this fearful bondage with him, as Paul had intimated, was a
relief from his dreadful solitariness in his terrors and sufferings.
"And he said that it was I who was to work a curse on him,"
muttered Abel. "It cannot be, surely, that such a thing as I
am can harm a man like him! " And though Abel remembered
Paul's kindness, and that this was to seal his own doom too, yet
it stirred the spirit of pride within him.
"What are you muttering to yourself, there in the dark,"
demanded Paul; "or whom talk you with, you withered wretch ? »
Abel shook in every joint at the sound of Paul's harsh voice.
"It is so dreadfully still here," said Abel; "I hear nothing
but your steps behind me, and they make me start. " This was
true; for notwithstanding his touch of instant pride, his terrors
and his fear of Paul were as great as ever.
"Speak louder then," said Paul, "or hold your peace. I like
not your muttering; it bodes no good. "
"It may bring a curse to you, worse than that on me, if a
worse can be," said Abel to himself; "but who can help it? "
Day broke before they cleared the ridge; a drizzling rain
came on; and the wind, beginning to rise, drove through the
crevices in the rocks with sharp whistling sounds which seemed
to come from malignant spirits of the air.
## p. 4298 (#60) ############################################
4298
RICHARD HENRY DANA, SENIOR
They had scarcely entered the wood when the storm became
furious; and the trees, swaying and beating with their branches
against one another, seemed possessed of a supernatural madness,
and engaged in wild conflict, as if there were life and passion in
them; and their broken, decayed arms groaned like things in
torment. The terror of these sights and sounds was too much
for poor Abel; it nearly crazed him; and he set up a shriek that
for a moment drowned the noise of the storm. It startled Paul;
and when he looked at him, the boy's face was of a ghostly
whiteness. The rain had drenched him to the skin; his clothes
clung to his lean body, that shook as if it would come apart; his
eyes flew wildly, and his teeth chattered against each other. The
fears and torture of his mind gave something unearthly to his
look, that made Paul start back. "Abel-boy-fiend-speak!
What has seized you? "
"They told me so," cried Abel-"I've done it-I led the
way for you- they're coming, they're coming-we're lost! "
"Peace, fool," said Paul, trying to shake off the power he felt
Abel gaining over him, "and find us a shelter if you can. "
"There's only the hut," said Abel, "and I wouldn't go into
that if it rained fire. "
"And why not? "
"I once felt that it was for me to go, and I went so near
as to see in at the door. And I saw something in the hut - it
was not a man, for it flitted by the opening just like a shadow;
and I heard two muttering something to one another; it wasn't
like other sounds, for as soon as I heard it, it made me stop
my ears. I couldn't stay any longer, and I ran till I cleared
the wood. Oh! 'tis His biding-place, when He comes to the
wood. "
"And is it of His own building? " asked Paul, sarcastically.
"No," answered Abel; "'twas built by the two wood-cutters;
and one of them came to a bloody end, and they say the other
died the same night, foaming at the mouth like one possessed.
There it is," said he, almost breathless, as he crouched down and
pointed at the hut under the trees. "Do not go, sir,” he said.
catching hold of the skirts of Paul's coat,-"I've never dared go
nigher since. "-"Let loose, boy," cried Paul, striking Abel's
hand from his coat, "I'll not be fooled with. " Abel, alarmed at
being left alone, crawled after Paul as far as he dared go; then
taking hold of him once more, made a supplicating motion to
## p. 4299 (#61) ############################################
RICHARD HENRY DANA, SENIOR
4299
him to stop; he was afraid to speak. Paul pushed on without
regarding him.
The hut stood on the edge of a sand-bank that was kept
up by a large pine, whose roots and fibres, lying partly bare,
looked like some giant spider that had half buried himself in
the sand. On the right of the hut was a patch of broken
ground, in which were still standing a few straggling dried
stalks of Indian corn; and from two dead trees hung knotted
pieces of broken line, which had formerly served for a clothes-
line.
The hut was built of half-trimmed trunks of trees laid on
each other, crossing at the four corners and running out at
unequal lengths, the chinks partly filled in with sods and moss.
The door, which lay on the floor, was of twisted boughs; and
the roof, of the same, was caved in, and but partly kept out
the sun and rain.
As Paul drew near the entrance he stopped, though the
wind just then came in a heavy gust, and the rain fell like a
flood. It was not a dread of what he might see within; but
it seemed to him that there was a spell round him, drawing
him nearer and nearer to its centre; and he felt the hand of
some invisible power upon him. As he stepped into the hut
a chill ran over him, and his eyes shut involuntarily. Abel
watched him eagerly; and as he saw him enter, tossed his arms
wildly shouting, "Gone, gone! They'll have me
me too-they're
coming, they're coming! " and threw himself on his face to
the ground.
Driven from home by his maddening passions, a perverse
delight in self-torture had taken possession of Paul; and his
mind so hungered for more intense excitement, that it craved
to prove true all which its jealousy and superstition had
imaged. He had walked on, lost in this fearful riot, but with
no particular object in view, and taking only a kind of crazed
joy in his bewildered state. Esther's love for him, which he
at times thought past doubt feigned, the darkness of the night,
and then the driving storm with its confused motions and
sounds, made an uproar of the mind which drove out all
settled purpose or thought.
The stillness of the place into which he had now entered,
where was heard nothing but the slow, regular dripping of the
rain from the broken roof upon the hard-trod floor; the lowered
and distant sound of the storm without; the sudden change
## p. 4300 (#62) ############################################
4300
RICHARD HENRY DANA, SENIOR
from the whirl and swaying of the trees to the steady walls
of the building, put a sudden stop to the violent working of
his brain, and he gradually fell into a stupor.
When Abel began to recover, he could scarcely raise himself
from the ground. He looked round, but could see nothing of
Paul. "They have bound us together," said he; "and something
is drawing me toward him. There is no help for me; I must
go whither he goes. " As he was drawn nearer and nearer to
the hut he seemed to struggle and hang back, as if pushed on
against his will. At last he reached the doorway; and clinging
to its side with a desperate hold, as if not to be forced in, put
his head forward a little, casting a hasty glance into the building.
"There he is, and alive! " breathed out Abel.
Paul's stupor was now beginning to leave him; his recollec-
tion was returning; and what had passed came back slowly and
at intervals. There was something he had said to Esther before
leaving home-he could not tell what; then his gazing after her
as she drove from the house; then something of Abel,—and he
sprang from the ground as if he felt the boy's touch again about
his knees; then the ball-room, and a multitude of voices, and all
talking of his wife. Suddenly she appeared darting by him; and
Frank was there. Then came his agony and tortures again; all
returned upon him as in the confusion of some horrible trance.
Then the hut seemed to enlarge and the walls to rock; and
shadows of those he knew, and of terrible beings he had never
seen before, were flitting round him and mocking at him. His
own substantial form seemed to him undergoing a change, and
taking the shape and substance of the accursed ones at which he
looked. As he felt the change going on he tried to utter a cry,
but he could not make a sound nor move a limb. The ground
under him rocked and pitched; it grew darker and darker, till
everything was visionary; and he thought himself surrounded by
spirits, and in the mansions of the damned. Something like a
deep black cloud began to gather gradually round him. The
gigantic structure, with its tall terrific arches, turned slowly into
darkness, and the spirits within disappeared one after another,
till as the ends of the cloud met and closed, he saw the last of
them looking at him with an infernal laugh in his undefined
visage.
Abel continued watching him in speechless agony. Paul's
consciousness was now leaving him; his head began to swim
## p. 4301 (#63) ############################################
RICHARD HENRY DANA, SENIOR
4301
he reeled; and as his hand swept down the side of the hut,
while trying to save himself, it struck against a rusty knife that
had been left sticking loosely between the logs. "Let go, let
go! " shrieked Abel; "there's blood on 't-'tis cursed, 'tis cursed. "
As Paul swung round with the knife in his hand, Abel sprang
from the door with a shrill cry, and Paul sank on the floor,
muttering to himself, "What said They? »
When he began to come to himself a little, he was still sitting
on the ground, his back against the wall. His senses were yet
confused. He thought he saw his wife near him, and a bloody
knife by his side. After sitting a little longer his mind grad-
ually grew clearer, and at last he felt for the first time that his
hand held something. As his eye fell on it and he saw dis-
tinctly what it was, he leaped upright with a savage yell and
dashed the knife from him as if it had been an asp stinging
him. He stood with his bloodshot eyes fastened on it, his hands
spread, and his body shrunk up with horror. "Forged in hell!
and for me, for me! " he screamed, as he sprang forward and
seized it with a convulsive grasp. "Damned pledge of the
league that binds us! " he cried, holding it up and glaring
wildly on it. "And yet a voice did warn me of what, I know
not. Which of ye put it in this hand? Speak let me look on
you?
D'ye hear me, and will not answer? Nay, nay, what
needs it? This tells me, though it speaks not.
I know your
promptings now," he said, folding his arms deliberately; "your
work must be done; and I am doomed to it. "
-
## p. 4302 (#64) ############################################
T
4302
RICHARD HENRY DANA, JUNIOR
(1815-1882)
HE literary fame of Richard Henry Dana the younger rests on
a single book, produced at the age of twenty-five. Two
Years Before the Mast' stands unique in English literature:
it reports a man's actual experiences at sea, yet touches the facts
with a fine imagination. It is a bit of Dana's own life while on a
vacation away from college. The manner in which he got his
material was remarkable, but to the literature he came as by birth-
right, through his father, Richard Henry Dana the elder, then
a well-known poet, novelist, and essayist.
He was born in Cambridge in 1815, grow-
ing up in the intellectual atmosphere of
that university town, and in due course of
time entering Harvard College, where his
father and grandfather before him had been
trained in law and letters. An attack of
the measles during his third year at col-
lege left him with weakened eyes, and an
active outdoor life was prescribed as the
only remedy. From boyhood up he had
been passionately fond of the sea; small
wonder, then, that he now determined to
take a long sea voyage. Refusing a berth
R. H. DANA, JR.
offered him on a vessel bound for the East
Indies, he chose to go as common sailor before the mast, on a mer-
chantman starting on a two-years' trading voyage around Cape Horn
to California. At that time boys of good family from the New
England coast towns often took such trips. Dana indeed found a
companion in a former merchant's clerk of Boston. They left on
August 14th, 1834, doubled Cape Horn, spent many months in the
waters of the Pacific and on the coast of California, trading with the
natives and taking in cargoes of hides, and returned to Boston in
September, 1836. Young Dana, entirely cured of his weakness, re-
entered college, graduated the next year, and then went to study in
the law school of Harvard. During his cruise he had kept a journal,
which he now worked over into the narrative that made him famous,
and that bids fair to keep his name alive as long as boys, young or
old, delight in sea stories. It is really not a story at all, but
## p. 4303 (#65) ############################################
RICHARD HENRY DANA, JUNIOR
4303
describes with much vivacity the whole history of a long trading voy-
age, the commonplace life of the sailor with its many hardships,
including the savage brutality of captains with no restraint on passion
or manners, and scant recreations; the sea in storm and calm, and the
California coast before the gold fever, when but few Europeans were
settled there, and hides were the chief export of a region whose
riches lay still secreted under the earth. The great charm of the
narrative lies in its simplicity and its frank statement of facts. Dana
apparently did not invent anything, but depicted real men, men he
had intimately known for two years, calling them even by their own
names, and giving an unvarnished account of what they did and
said. He never hung back from work or shirked his duty. but
"roughed it" to the very end. As a result of these experiences, this
book is the only one that gives any true idea of the sailor's life.
Sea stories generally depend for their interest on the inventive skill
of their authors; Dana knew how to hold the attention by a simple
statement of facts. The book has all the charm and spontaneity of a
keenly observant yet imaginative and cultivated mind, alive to all
the aspects of the outer world, and gifted with that fine literary
instinct which, knowing the value of words, expresses its thoughts
with precision. Seafaring men have commented on his exactness in
reproducing the sailor's phraseology. The book was published in
1840, translated into several languages, and adopted by the British
Admiralty for distribution in the Navy. Few sailors are without a
copy in their chest. The Seaman's Friend,' which Dana published
in the following year, was inspired by his indignation at the abuses
he had witnessed in the merchant marine.
Dana did not follow up his first success, and his life henceforth
belongs to the history of the bar and politics of Massachusetts,
rather than to literature. The fame of his book brought to his law
office many admiralty cases. In 1848 he was one of the founders of
the Free Soil party; later he became an active abolitionist, and took
a large part in the local politics of his State. For a year he
lectured on international law in Harvard college. He contributed
to the North American Review, and wrote besides on various legal
topics. His one other book on travel, 'To Cuba and Back, a Vaca-
tion Voyage,' the fruit of a trip to that island in 1859, though well
written, never became popular. He retired from his profession in
1877, and spent the last years of his life in Paris and Italy. He
died in Rome, January 6th, 1882.
## p. 4304 (#66) ############################################
4304
RICHARD HENRY DANA, JUNIOR
A DRY GALE
From Two Years Before the Mast
WⓇ
E HAD been below but a short time before we had the
usual premonitions of a coming gale,- seas washing over
the whole forward part of the vessel, and her bows beat-
ing against them with a force and sound like the driving of
piles. The watch, too, seemed very busy trampling about decks
and singing out at the ropes. A sailor can tell by the sound
what sail is coming in; and in a short time we heard the top-
gallant-sails come in, one after another, and then the flying jib.
This seemed to ease her a good deal, and we were fast going
off to the land of Nod, when-bang, bang, bang on the scuttle,
and "All hands, reef topsails, ahoy! " started us out of our
berths, and it not being very cold weather, we had nothing
extra to put on, and were soon on deck. I shall never forget
the fineness of the sight. It was a clear and rather a chilly
night; the stars were twinkling with an intense brightness, and
as far as the eye could reach there was not a cloud to be seen.
The horizon met the sea in a defined line. A painter could not
have painted so clear a sky. There was not a speck upon it.
Yet it was blowing great guns from the northwest. When you
can see a cloud to windward, you feel that there is a place for
the wind to come from; but here it seemed to come from no-
where. No person could have told from the heavens, by their
eyesight alone, that it was not a still summer's night. One reef
after another we took in the topsails, and before we could get
them hoisted up we heard a sound like a short quick rattling of
thunder, and the jib was blown to atoms out of the bolt-rope.
We got the topsails set, and the fragments of the jib stowed
away, and the foretopmast staysail set in its place, when the
great mainsail gaped open, and the sail ripped from head to
foot. "Lay up on that main yard and furl the sail, before it
blows to tatters! " shouted the captain; and in a moment we
were up, gathering the remains of it upon the yard. We got it
wrapped round the yard, and passed gaskets over it as snugly
as possible, and were just on deck again, when with another
loud rent, which was heard throughout the ship, the foretopsail,
which had been double-reefed, split in two athwartships, just
below the reef-band, from earing to earing. Here again it was—
## p. 4305 (#67) ############################################
RICHARD HENRY DANA, JUNIOR
4305
down yard, haul out reef-tackles, and lay out upon the yard for
reefing. By hauling the reef-tackles chock-a-block we took the
strain from the other earings, and passing the close-reef earing,
and knotting the points carefully, we succeeded in setting the
sail, close reefed.
We had but just got the rigging coiled up, and were waiting
to hear "Go below the watch! " when the main royal worked
loose from the gaskets, and blew directly out to leeward, flap-
ping and shaking the mast like a wand. Here was a job for
somebody. The royal must come in or be cut adrift, or the mast
would be snapped short off. All the light hands in the starboard
watch were sent up one after another, but they could do nothing
with it. At length John, the tall Frenchman, the head of the
starboard watch (and a better sailor never stepped upon a deck),
sprang aloft, and by the help of his long arms and legs suc-
ceeded after a hard struggle,- the sail blowing over the yard-
arm to leeward, and the skysail adrift directly over his head,-
in smothering it and frapping it with long pieces of sinnet. He
came very near being blown or shaken from the yard several
times, but he was a true sailor, every finger a fish-hook. Hav-
ing made the sail snug, he prepared to send the yard down,
which was a long and difficult job; for frequently he was obliged
to stop and hold on with all his might for several minutes, the
ship pitching so as to make it impossible to do anything else at
that height. The yard at length came down safe, and after it
the fore and mizzen royal yards were sent down. All hands
were then sent aloft, and for an hour or two we were hard at
work, making the booms well fast, unreeving the studding sail
and royal and skysail gear, getting rolling-ropes on the yard,
setting up the weather breast-backstays, and making other prep-
arations for a storm. It was a fine night for a gale, just cool
and bracing enough for quick work, without being cold, and as
bright as day. It was sport to have a gale in such weather as
this. Yet it blew like a hurricane. The wind seemed to come
with a spite, an edge to it, which threatened to scrape us off the
yards. The force of the wind was greater than I had ever felt
it before; but darkness, cold, and wet are the worst parts of a
storm to a sailor.
-
Having got on deck again, we looked round to see what time
of night it was, and whose watch. In a few minutes the man.
at the wheel struck four bells, and we found that the other
VIII-270
## p. 4306 (#68) ############################################
4306
RICHARD HENRY DANA, JUNIOR
watch was out and our own half out. Accordingly the starboard
watch went below, and left the ship to us for a couple of hours,
yet with orders to stand by for a call.
Hardly had they got below before away went the foretop-
mast staysail, blown to ribands. This was a small sail, which
we could manage in the watch, so that we were not obliged to
call up the other watch. We laid upon the bowsprit, where we
were under water half the time, and took in the fragments of
the sail; and as she must have some headsail on her, prepared
to bend another staysail. We got the new one out into the net-
tings; seized on the tack, sheets, and halyards, and the hanks;
manned the halyards, cut adrift the frapping-lines, and hoisted
away; but before it was half-way up the stay it was blown all
to pieces. When we belayed the halyards, there was nothing
left but the bolt-rope. Now large eyes began to show them-
selves in the foresail; and knowing that it must soon go, the
mate ordered us upon the yard to furl it. Being unwilling to
call up the watch, who had been on deck all night, he roused
out the carpenter, sailmaker, cook, and steward, and with their
help we manned the foreyard, and after nearly half an hour's
struggle, mastered the sail and got it well furled round the
yard. The force of the wind had never been greater than at
this moment. In going up the rigging it seemed absolutely to
pin us down to the shrouds; and on the yard there was no such
thing as turning a face to windward. Yet there was no driving
sleet and darkness and wet and cold as off Cape Horn; and
instead of stiff oilcloth suits, southwester caps, and thick boots,
we had on hats, round jackets, duck trousers, light shoes, and
everything light and easy. These things make a great differ-
ence to a sailor. When we got on deck the man at the wheel
struck eight bells (four o'clock in the morning), and "All star-
bowlines, ahoy! " brought the other watch up, but there was no
going below for us. The gale was now at its height, "blowing
like scissors and thumb-screws"; the captain was on deck; the
ship, which was light, rolling and pitching as though she would
shake the long sticks out of her, and the sails were gaping open
and splitting in every direction. The mizzen-topsail, which was
a comparatively new sail and close reefed, split from head to
foot in the bunt; the foretopsail went in one rent from clew to
earing, and was blowing to tatters; one of the chain bobstays
parted; the spritsailyard sprung in the slings, the martingale
## p. 4307 (#69) ############################################
RICHARD HENRY DANA, JUNIOR
4307
had slued away off to leeward; and owing to the long dry
weather the lee rigging hung in large bights at every lurch.
One of the main-topgallant shrouds had parted; and to crown
all, the galley had got adrift and gone over to leeward, and the
anchor on the lee bow had worked loose and was thumping the
side. Here was work enough for all hands for half a day. Our
gang laid out on the mizzen-topsailyard, and after more than
half an hour's hard work furled the sail, though it bellied out
over our heads, and again, by a slat of the wind, blew in
under the yard with a fearful jerk and almost threw us off
from the foot-ropes.
Double gaskets were passed round the yards, rolling tackles
and other gear bowsed taut, and everything made as secure as it
could be. Coming down, we found the rest of the crew just
coming down the fore rigging, having furled the tattered top-
sail, or rather, swathed it round the yard, which looked like a
broken limb bandaged. There was no sail now on the ship but
the spanker and the close-reefed main-topsail, which still held
good. But this was too much after-sail, and order was given to
furl the spanker. The brails were hauled up, and all the light
hands in the starboard watch sent out on the gaff to pass the
gaskets; but they could do nothing with it. The second mate
swore at them for a parcel of "sogers," and sent up a couple of
the best men; but they could do no better, and the gaff was
lowered down. All hands were now employed in setting up the
lee rigging, fishing the spritsail yard, lashing the galley, and
getting tackles upon the martingale, to bowse it to windward.
Being in the larboard watch, my duty was forward, to assist in
setting up the martingale. Three of us were out on the martin-
gale guys and back-ropes for more than half an hour, carrying
out, hooking, and unhooking the tackles, several times buried in
the seas, until the mate ordered us in from fear of our being
washed off. The anchors were then to be taken up on the rail,
which kept all hands on the forecastle for an hour, though every
now and then the seas broke over it, washing the rigging off to
leeward, filling the lee scuppers breast-high, and washing chock
aft to the taffrail.
Having got everything secure again, we were promising our-
selves some breakfast, for it was now nearly nine o'clock in the
forenoon, when the main-topsail showed evident signs of giving
way. Some sail must be kept on the ship, and the captain
## p. 4308 (#70) ############################################
4308
RICHARD HENRY DANA, JUNIOR
ordered the fore and main spencer gaffs to be lowered down,
and the two spencers (which were storm sails; brand-new, small,
and made of the strongest canvas) to be got up and bent; leav-
ing the main-topsail to blow away, with a blessing on it, if it
would only last until we could set the spencers. These we bent
on very carefully, with strong robands and seizings, and making
tackles fast to the clews, bowsed them down to the water-ways.
By this time the main-topsail was among the things that have
been, and we went aloft to stow away the remnant of the last
sail of all those which were on the ship twenty-four hours before.
The spencers were now the only whole sails on the ship, and
being strong and small, and near the deck, presenting but little
surface to the wind above the rail, promised to hold out well.
Hove-to under these, and eased by having no sail above the
tops, the ship rose and fell, and drifted off to leeward like a line-
of-battle ship.
It was now eleven o'clock, and the watch was sent below to
get breakfast, and at eight bells (noon), as everything was snug,
although the gale had not in the least abated, the watch was
set and the other watch and idlers sent below. For three days
and three nights the gale continued with unabated fury, and
with singular regularity. There were no lulls, and very little
variation in its fierceness. Our ship, being light, rolled so as
almost to send the fore yard-arm under water, and drifted off
bodily to leeward. All this time there was not a cloud to be
seen in the sky, day or night; no, not so large as a man's hand.
Every morning the sun rose cloudless from the sea, and set
again at night in the sea in a flood of light. The stars, too,
came out of the blue one after another, night after night, unob-
scured, and twinkled as clear as on a still frosty night at home,
until the day came upon them. All this time the sea was roll-
ing in immense surges, white with foam, as far as the eye could
reach, on every side; for we were now leagues and leagues
from shore.
## p. 4309 (#71) ############################################
RICHARD HENRY DANA, JUNIOR
4309
EVERY-DAY SEA LIFE
From Two Years Before the Mast
THE
HE sole object was to make the time pass on. Any change
was sought for which would break the monotony of the
time; and even the two-hours' trick at the wheel, which
came round to us in turn, once in every other watch, was looked
upon as a relief. The never-failing resource of long yarns,
which eke out many a watch, seemed to have failed us now; for
we had been so long together that we had heard each other's
stories told over and over again till we had them by heart; each
one knew the whole history of each of the others, and we were
fairly and literally talked out. Singing and joking we were in
no humor for; and in fact any sound of mirth or laughter would
have struck strangely upon our ears, and would not have been
tolerated any more than whistling or a wind instrument. The
last resort, that of speculating upon the future, seemed now to
fail us; for our discouraging situation, and the danger we were
really in (as we expected every day to find ourselves drifted
back among the ice), "clapped a stopper" upon all that. From
saying when we get home," we began insensibly to alter it "if
we get home," and at last the subject was dropped by a tacit
«<
consent.
struck out, and a
In this state of things a new light was
new field opened, by a change in the watch. One of our watch
was laid up for two or three days by a bad hand (for in cold
weather the least cut or bruise ripens into a sore), and his place
was supplied by the carpenter. This was a windfall, and there
was a contest who should have the carpenter to walk with him.
As "Chips" was a man of some little education, and he and I
had had a good deal of intercourse with each other, he fell in
with me in my walk. He was a Finn, but spoke English well,
and gave me long accounts of his country,- the customs, the
trade, the towns, what little he knew of the government (I found
he was no friend of Russia), his voyages, his first arrival in
America, his marriage and courtship; he had married a country-
woman of his, a dressmaker, whom he met with in Boston. I
had very little to tell him of my quiet sedentary life at home;
and in spite of our best efforts, which had protracted these yarns
through five or six watches, we fairly talked each other out, and
## p. 4310 (#72) ############################################
4310
RICHARD HENRY DANA, JUNIOR
I turned him over to another man in the watch and put myself
upon my own resources.
I commenced a deliberate system of time-killing, which united
some profit with a cheering-up of the heavy hours. As soon as
I came on deck, and took my place and regular walk, I began
with repeating over to myself in regular order a string of mat-
ters which I had in my memory,-the multiplication table and
the table of weights and measures; the Kanaka numerals; then
the States of the Union, with their capitals; the counties of
England, with their shire towns, and the kings of England in
their order, and other things. This carried me through my
facts, and being repeated deliberately, with long intervals, often
eked out the first two bells. Then came the Ten Command-
ments, the thirty-ninth chapter of Job, and a few other passages
from Scripture. The next in the order, which I seldom varied
from, came Cowper's 'Castaway,' which was a great favorite
with me; its solemn measure and gloomy character, as well as
the incident it was founded upon, making it well suited to a
lonely watch at sea. Then his 'Lines to Mary,' his address to the
Jackdaw, and a short extract from Table Talk' (I abounded in
Cowper, for I happened to have a volume of his poems in my
chest); 'Ille et nefasto' from Horace, and Goethe's 'Erl-König. '
After I had got through these, I allowed myself a more general
range among everything that I could remember, both in prose
and verse. In this way, with an occasional break by relieving
the wheel, heaving the log, and going to the scuttle-butt for a
drink of water, the longest watch was passed away; and I was
so regular in my silent recitations that if there was no inter-
ruption by ship's duty I could tell very nearly the number of
bells by my progress.
