The Crater; Or, Vulcan's Peak: A Tale of the Pacific. Джеймс Фенимор Купер

bit of land to leeward, if you and I was to Robinson Crusoe it for the rest of our days. My good mother was always most awarse to my following the seas on account of that very danger; most especially from a fear of the savages from the islands round about."

      "We will look for our boats," Mark gravely replied, the image of Bridget, just at that instant, appearing before his mind with a painful distinctness.

      Both now turned their eyes again to leeward, the first direct rays of the sun beginning to illumine the surface of the ocean in that quarter. Something like a misty cloud had been settled on the water, rather less than a league from the ship, in the western board, and had hitherto prevented a close examination in that part of the horizon. The power of the sun, however, almost instantly dispersed it, and then, for the first time, Bob fancied he did discover something like land. Mark, however, could not make it out, until he had gone up into the cross-trees, when he, too, got a glimpse of what, under all the circumstances, he did not doubt was either a portion of the reef that rose above the water, or was what might be termed a low, straggling island. Its distance from the ship, they estimated at rather more than two leagues.

      Both Mark and Bob remained aloft near an hour longer, or until they had got the best possible view of which their position would allow, of everything around the ship. Bob went down, and took a glass up to his officer, Mark sweeping the whole horizon with it, in the anxious wish to make out something cheering in connection with the boats. The drift of these unfortunate craft must have been towards the land, and that he examined with the utmost care. Aided by the glass, and his elevation, he got a tolerable view of the spot, which certainly promised as little in the way of supplies as any other bit of naked reef he had ever seen. The distance, however, was so great as to prevent his obtaining any certain information on that point. One thing, however, he did ascertain, as he feared, with considerable accuracy. After passing the glass along the whole of that naked rock, he could see nothing on it in motion. Of birds there were a good many, more indeed than from the extent of the visible reef he might have expected; but no signs of man could be discovered. As the ocean, in all directions, was swept by the glass, and this single fragment of a reef, which was less than a mile in length, was the only thing that even resembled land, the melancholy conviction began to force itself on Mark and Bob, that all their shipmates had perished! They might have perished in one of several ways; as the naked reef did not lie precisely to leeward of the ship, the boats may have driven by it, in the deep darkness of the past night, and gone far away out of sight of the spot where they had left the vessel, long ere the return of day. There was just the possibility that the spars of the ship might be seen by the wanderers, if they were still living, and the faint hope of their regaining the vessel, in the course of the day, by means of their oars. It was, however, more probable that the boats had capsized in some of the numerous fragments of breakers, that were visible even in the present calm condition of the ocean, and that all in them had been drowned. The best swimmer must have hopelessly perished, in such a situation, and in such a night, unless carried by a providential interference to the naked rock to leeward. That no one was living on that reef, the glass pretty plainly proved.

      Mark and Bob Betts descended to the deck, after passing a long time aloft making their observations. Both were pretty well assured that their situation was almost desperate, though each was too resolute, and too thoroughly imbued with the spirit of a seaman, to give up while there was the smallest shadow of hope. As it was now getting past the usual breakfast hour, some cold meat was got out, and, for the first time since Mark had been transferred to the cabin, they sat down on the windlass and ate the meal together. A little, however, satisfied men in their situation; Bob Betts fairly owning that he had no appetite, though so notorious at the ship's beef and a biscuit, as to be often the subject of his messmates' jokes. That morning even he could eat but little, though both felt it to be a duty they owed to themselves to take enough to sustain nature. It was while these two forlorn and desolate mariners sat there on the windlass, picking, as it might be, morsel by morsel, that they first entered into a full and frank communication with each other, touching the realities of their present situation. After a good deal had passed between them, Mark suddenly asked—

      "Do you think it possible, Bob, for us two to take care of the ship, should we even manage to get her into deep water again?"

      "Well, that is not so soon answered, Mr. Woolston," returned Bob. "We're both on us stout, and healthy, and of good courage, Mr. Mark; but 'twould be a desperate long way for two hands to carry a wessel of four hundred tons, to take the old 'Cocus from this here anchorage, all the way to the coast of America; and short of the coast there's no ra'al hope for us. Howsever, sir, that is a subject that need give us no consarn."

      "I do not see that, Bob; we shall have to do it, unless we fall in with something at sea, could we only once get the vessel; out from among these reefs."

      "Ay, ay, sir—could' we get her out from among these reefs, indeed! There's the rub, Mr. Woolston; but I fear 't will never be 'rub and go.'"

      "You think, then, we are too fairly in for it, ever to get the ship clear?"

      "Such is just my notion, Mr. Woolston, on that subject, and I've no wish to keep it a secret. In my judgment, was poor Captain Crutchely alive and back at his post, and all hands just as they was this time twenty-four hours since, and the ship where she is now, that here she would have to stay. Nothing short of kedging can ever take the wessel clear of the reefs to windward on us, and man-of-war kedging could hardly do it, then."

      "I am sorry to hear you say this," answered Mark, gloomily, "though I feared as much myself."

      "Men is men, sir, and you can get no more out on 'em than is in 'em. I looked well at these reefs, sir, when aloft, and they're what I call as hopeless affairs as ever I laid eyes on. If they lay in any sort of way, a body might have some little chance of getting through 'em, but they don't lay, no how. 'T would be 'luff' and 'keep her away' every half minute or so, should we attempt to beat up among 'em; and who is there aboard here to brace up, and haul aft, and ease off, and to swing yards sich as our'n?"

      "I was not altogether without the hope, Bob, of getting the ship into clear water: though I have thought it would be done with difficulty, I am still of opinion we had better try it, for the alternative is a very serious matter."

      "I don't exactly understand what you mean by attorneytives, Mr. Mark; though it's little harm, or little good that any attorney can do the old 'Cocus, now! But, as for getting this craft through them reefs, to windward, and into clear water, it surpasses the power of man. Did you just notice the tide-ripples, Mr. Mark, when you was up in the cross-trees?"

      "I saw them, Bob, and am fully aware of the difficulty of running as large a vessel as this among them, even with a full crew. But what will become of us, unless we get the ship into open water?"

      "Sure enough, sir. I see no other hope for us, Mr. Mark, but to Robinson Crusoe it awhile, until our times come; or, till the Lord, in his marcy, shall see fit to have us picked up."

      "Robinson Crusoe it!" repeated Mark, smiling at the quaintness of Bob's expression, which the well-meaning fellow uttered in all simplicity, and in perfect good faith—"where are we to find even an uninhabited island, on which to dwell after the mode of Robinson Crusoe?"

      "There's a bit of a reef to-leeward, where I dare say a man might pick up a living, arter a fashion," answered Bob, coolly; "then, here is the ship."

      "And how long would a hempen cable hold the ship in a place like this, where every time the vessel lifts to a sea, the clench is chafing on a rock? No, no, Bob—the ship cannot long remain where she is, depend on that. We must try and pass down to leeward, if we cannot beat the ship through the dangers to windward."

      "Harkee, Mr. Mark; I thought this matter over in my mind, while we was aloft, and this is my idee as to what is best to be done, for a start. There's the dingui on the poop, in as good order as ever a boat was. She will easily carry two on us, and, on a pinch, she might carry half a dozen. Now, my notion is to get the dingui into the water, to put a breaker and some grub in her, and to pull, down to that bit of a reef, and have a survey of it. I'll take the sculls going down, and you can keep heaving the by way of finding out if there be sich a thang as a channel in that direction. If the ship is ever to be