harvey barth stood on the high cliff and wept; not in a poetical sense, but cried like a little child, and the hot tears burned on his cold, thin pale cheeks. captain 'siah had always used him well; the rough mate had been kind to him; and the seamen, most of whom, like himself, were farmers' sons, had been friendly during the three months they were together. even the passenger often seated himself in the galley to talk with him, as he smoked his pipe. now they were all gone. so far as harvey knew, every one of them, from the captain to the humblest seaman, had perished, either by the bolt from the clouds or in the mad waters. it was barely possible that the mate or passenger had escaped from the wreck on which they had taken refuge, as they had the whale-boat with them.[pg 49]
harvey barth, who had often told his shipmates that he had not much longer to live, was the only one saved from the whole ship's company. it seemed to him very strange that he should be spared while so many stronger men had been suddenly swept away. he dared not believe that any one else had been saved, and he could not but regard himself as a monument of the mercy, as well as of the mysterious ways of providence. he thanked god from the depths of his heart that he was saved, and he was almost willing to believe that he might yet escape the fate to which his malady had doomed him.
the hurricane subsided almost as suddenly as it had commenced; the sea abated its violence, and the booming thunder was heard only in the distance. the black clouds rolled away from the westward, and the stars sparkled in the blue sky. the steward was wet to the skin, and he shivered with cold. where he was he had not the least idea. on the distant shore he could see the light-houses, but what points of land they marked he did not know. he was on the solid land, and that was the sum total of his information. he was well nigh worn out by the[pg 50] exertions and the excitement of the evening, but, turning his back to the treacherous ocean which had swallowed up all his friends, he walked as rapidly as his strength would admit, in order to warm himself by the exercise. from the cliffs the land sloped upward, but he soon reached the top of the hill, on which he paused to take an observation. from the point where he stood there was a much sharper descent before him than on the side by which he had come up. at the foot of the hill he saw two lights, then a sheet of water, and beyond a multitude of lights indicating a considerable village.
the nearest light appeared not to be over half a mile distant, and the pale moon came out from behind the piles of black clouds to guide his steps. the cold north-west wind had begun to blow, and it chilled the wanderer to his very bones. he quickened his steps down the declivity, and soon reached a rude, one-story dwelling, at the door of which he knocked. he saw the light in the house, but no one answered his summons, and he repeated it more vigorously than before. then a window was cautiously thrown open a few inches.[pg 51]
"who's there?" asked a woman.
"a stranger," replied harvey, shivering with cold, so that he could hardly utter the words.
"my husband's over to the village, and i can't let no strangers in at this time of night," added the woman.
"i've been cast away on the coast, and i'm really suffering," drawled the steward, in broken sentences.
"cast away!" exclaimed the wife of the man who was over at the village, as she dropped the sash.
the terrible storm which had spent its fury upon sea and land was enough to convince her that men might have been shipwrecked; and this was not the first time that those treacherous ledges off high rock, as the cliff was called, had shattered a good vessel. the woman hastened to the door, and threw it wide open. the pale, shivering form of harvey barth, the overcoat he wore still dripping with water, was enough to satisfy her that the visitor had no evil intentions.
"come in," said she; and when the steward saw the comfortable room in the house, he required[pg 52] no second invitation. "why, you are shivering with cold!"
"yes marm; i'm not very well, and getting wet don't agree with me," replied harvey, his teeth still chattering.
the room to which he was shown was the parlor, sitting-room, and kitchen of the cottage. on the hearth was a large cooking-stove, in which the woman immediately lighted a fire. she piled on the dry wood till the stove was full, and in a few moments the room was as hot as the oven of the stove.
"it's no use," said the housekeeper, who had seated herself to rock the cradle; "you are wet through to your skin; and you can't get warm till you put on dry clothes."
she went to a closet and took out her husband's sunday clothes a woolen undershirt, and a pair of thick socks. harvey thought of paradise when he saw them, for he was so chilled that to be warm again seemed to him the climax of earthly joy. the woman laid them on the bed in an adjoining chamber, and then begged him to put them on. he needed no urging, and soon his trembling limbs were encased in the warm,[pg 53] dry clothes. the coat and pants were much too short for him, but otherwise they fitted very well. when he came out of the chamber, with his wet clothes in his hands, he found a cup of hot tea on the table waiting for him.
"now drink this," said his kind host. "it will help to warm you up; and i will put your things where they will dry."
harvey drank the tea, and the effect was excellent. a short time before the stove restored the warmth to his body, and he began to feel quite comfortable.
"i feel good now," said he, with a sickly smile. "i'm really a new man."
"now i wish you would tell me about the wreck," added the woman, as she rocked the cradle till it was a heavy sea for the baby, which threatened it with shipwreck.
"certainly; i'll tell you all about it," replied harvey.
he started his story at the west india islands; but, with his drawl and his hacking cough, he made slow progress. he had not reached the coast of maine when the woman's husband arrived. of course he was astonished to find a[pg 54] stranger so comfortably installed in his house; but when his wife explained who the steward was, he became as hospitable and friendly as his wife had been.
"this is my husband, john carter," said the woman, as the man of the house seated himself at the stove.
"my name is harvey barth," added the shipwrecked. "i was cook and steward of the brig waldo; but she is gone to pieces now."
"sho! you don't say so!" exclaimed john carter. "why, i made a voyage to savannah myself in the waldo, before i was married!"
"you will never make another in her. she broke into two pieces, which rolled over and went to the bottom," added harvey.
"you don't say so! was captain barnwood in her?"
"yes, he was. cap'n 'siah, as we all called him—"
"so did we," interposed john carter, with a smile.
"cap'n 'siah was as nice a man as ever trod a quarter-deck."
"so he was."[pg 55]
"he's gone now," sighed harvey.
"was he lost?"
"yes sir; he was knocked stiff by the lightning, with half a dozen others."
"sho! was the brig struck by lightning?"
"she was. it came down the mainmast and knocked the wheel into a thousand pieces. when the steering-gear gave out, we couldn't do anything more. i'm the only one of twelve men and a passenger that was saved."
harvey barth commenced his story anew, when the astonishment of john carter had abated a little, and gave all the particulars of the voyage and the wreck and all the details of his personal history since he kept school in "york state." it was midnight when he had finished, and the details were discussed for an hour afterwards. mrs. carter had brought on more hot tea, with pie and cheese, and other eatables, which the steward had consumed in large quantities, for one of the features of his malady was a ravenous appetite. john carter, who had been detained at the village by the violence of the storm, was as hospitable as any one could be, and harvey slept that night in the best bed in the house.[pg 56]
after breakfast the next morning he brought out the oil-cloth which contained his diary. he had carefully concealed it when he changed his clothes, and he was now anxious to know whether it had escaped serious injury in the storm. he unfolded the oil-cloth before john carter and his wife. to his great satisfaction, he found it unharmed by the floods of water which had drenched him. the water-proof covering had secured it even from any dampness.
harvey opened the book at a certain place, and exhibited between the leaves a thin pile of bank notes—the whole of his worldly wealth, for, as the waldo was a total loss, the wages that were due him on account of the voyage were gone forever. but there was fifty-two dollars between the leaves of the diary. he had come from home with a good stock of clothing, and had saved nearly all he had earned, including his advance for the west india voyage. at havana mr. carboy had the misfortune to lose his watch overboard, and, as he needed one, harvey had sold him his—a very good silver one—for twenty-five dollars.[pg 57]
"now mr. carter, i want to pay you for what i've had," drawled harvey, as he opened the diary, and exposed his worldly wealth.
"pay me!" exclaimed john carter, with something like horror in his tones and expression; "take any money from a brother sailor who has been wrecked! i don't know where you got such a bad opinion of me, but i would starve to death, and then be hung and froze to death, before i'd take a cent from you!"
"i am willing to pay for what i've had, and i shall be very much obliged to you besides," added harvey.
"not a red. put up your money. i don't feel right to have you offer it, even," said the host, turning away his head.
"i've always paid my way so far; but i don't know how much longer i shall be able to do so. i'm very thankful to you and mrs. carter for what you've done, and i shall write it all down in my diary as soon as i get a chance."
"you are welcome to all we've done; and we only wish it had been more," replied mrs. carter.[pg 58]
"i don't think i shall go to sea any more," added harvey, gloomily. "i have friends in york state, and i have money enough to get back there. that's all i want now. if you will tell me how i can get to new york, i'll be moving on now. i haven't got long to stay in this world, and i mean to spend the rest of my days where i was born and brought up."
"a steamer comes over to the village about three times a week, and she will be over to-day or to-morrow. i will row you over if you say so; but i shall be glad to take care of you as long as you will stay here."
"i'm much obliged to you; but i think i had better go over this forenoon."
half an hour later the steward shook hands with mrs. carter and bade her adieu. john pulled him across the river, as it was called,—though it was more properly a narrow bay, into which a small stream flowed from the high lands farther inland. the village was called rockhaven, and was a place of considerable importance. it had two thousand tons of fishing vessels; but the granite quarries in the vicinity were the principal sources of wealth to the place[pg 59] latterly rockhaven, which was beautifully situated on high land overlooking the waters of the lower bay, had begun to be a place of resort for summer visitors.
the western extremity of the village extended nearly to the high cliffs on the sea-shore, and the situation was very romantic and picturesque. the fishing was the best in the bay, and the rocks were very attractive to people from the city. the harbor had deep water at any time of tide. for a summer residence, the only disadvantage was the want of suitable hotels or boarding-houses. of the former there were two, of the most homely and primitive character, and not many of the inhabitants who had houses suitable for city people were willing to take boarders.
john carter pulled his passenger across the harbor, and walked with him to the cliff house, near the headlong steeps which bounded the village on the west. he introduced him to peter bennington, the landlord, and told his story for him.
"i am sorry for you," said mr. bennington.
"o, i've got money enough to pay my bill,"[pg 60] interposed harvey barth, who had a sufficiency of honest pride, and asked nothing for charity's sake.
the landlord showed him to a room, after he had shaken hands with and bidden adieu to john carter, it was not the best room in the house, but it was neat and comfortable. harvey inquired about the steamer to rockland, and was told that she would probably come the next day, and return in the afternoon. the steward made himself comfortable, and ate a hearty dinner when it was ready. in the afternoon he borrowed a pen and ink, and began to write out a full account of the wreck of the waldo. he wrote a large, round hand, which was enough to convince any one who saw it that he was or had been a schoolmaster. he worked his pen slowly and carefully, but he entered so minutely into the details of the disaster that he had not half finished the narrative when the supper bell rang.
harvey did not resume the task again that day; he was too weary to do so. that night he was ill and feverish, and in the morning had an attack of bleeding at the lungs. the landlord[pg 61] sent for the doctor, but the patient was not able to leave in the steamer, which went in the afternoon. the landlord's wife nursed him carefully and kindly, and in a week he began to improve. he had no further attack of bleeding, and he began to hope that he should live to get home. as soon as he was able to sit up in the bed, he resumed the writing up of the diary.
but we must leave him in his chamber thus occupied, to introduce the most important character of our story.
he was a rather tall and quite stout young fellow of sixteen. he was dressed in homely attire, what there was of it, for he wore no coat, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up above his elbows, in order, apparently, to give his arms more freedom. he was as tawny as the sailors of the waldo had been, tanned by the hot suns of the west indies. he had just come down the river from the principal wharf, at the head of which was the fish market—a very important institution, where the product of the sea formed a considerable portion of the food of the people. the boat in which he sailed was an old, black, dingy affair, which needed to be baled[pg 62] out more than once a day to keep her afloat. the sail was almost as black as the hull, and had been patched and darned in a hundred places. the skipper and crew of this unsightly old craft was leopold bennington, the only son of the landlord of the cliff house, though he had three daughters.
leopold carried the anchor of his boat far up on the rocks above the beach, and thrust one of the arms down into a crevice, where it would hold the boat. taking from the dingy boat a basket which was heavy enough to give a considerable curve to his spine as he carried it, he climbed up the rocks to the street which extended along the shore of the river for half a mile. on the opposite side of it was the cliff house. his father stood on the piazza of the house as the young man crossed the street.
"well, leopold, what luck had you to-day?" asked mr. bennington, as his son approached.
"first rate, father," replied the young man, as his bronzed face lighted up with enthusiasm.
"what did you get?" asked the landlord.
"mackerel."[pg 63]
"mackerel!" exclaimed mine host, his face in turn lighting up with pleasure.
"lots of them, father."
"we have hardly seen a mackerel this year yet. i never knew them to be so scarce since i have been on this coast."
"there hasn't been any caught before these for a month, and then only a few tinkers," added leopold, as he removed the wet rock-weed with which he had covered the fish to protect them from the sun. "they are handsome ones, too."
"so they are—number ones every one of them, and some extra," said the landlord, as he raised the fish with his hand so that he could see them.
"they were the handsomest lot of mackerel i ever saw," continued the young fisherman, his face glowing with satisfaction. "i brought up three dozen for you, and sold the rest. i made a good haul to-day."
"three dozen will be all we can use in the house, as big as those are. two dozen would have been enough; we don't have many people here now. but where did you get them?"
"just off high rock, where the waldo was[pg 64] wrecked. i fished within a cable's length of the ledges. i don't know but the sugar and molasses from the brig drew the mackerel around her," laughed leopold, as he took an old black wallet from his pocket.
"were there any other boats near you?" asked the prudent landlord.
"not another one; folks are tired of trying for mackerel, and have given it up. i didn't expect to find any, but i happened to have my jigs in the boat; and for an hour i worked three of them as lively as any fellow ever did, i can tell you."
"did they ask you at the fish market where you got them?"
"they did; but i didn't tell them," laughed the young man. "the mackerel fetched a good price. i counted off three hundred and twenty-four at ten cents apiece, and wouldn't take any less. they are scarce, and i saw them selling the fish at twenty cents apiece; so they will make as much as i do. here is the money—thirty-two dollars and forty cents."
harvey barth, his diary. page 65. harvey barth, his diary. page 65.
[pg 65]
"keep it yourself, my boy. you shall have all you make, as long as you don't spend it for candy and nonsense. now go up and see the sick man. he may want something, and all the folks have been busy this afternoon."
the landlord took the basket of fish and put them on the ice, while leopold went up to harvey barth's chamber. the sick man did not want anything. he was sitting up in the bed, with his diary and a pen in his hands, while the inkstand stood on the little table with the medicine bottles.
"there," said harvey to leopold, who had been a frequent attendant during his sickness, "i have just finished writing up this date; and it contains the whole story of the wreck of the waldo, and all that happened on board of her during the voyage."
"what is it? what are you writing, mr. barth?" asked the young man.
harvey opened the book at the blank leaf in the beginning, and turned it towards his visitor.
"harvey barth. his diary," leopold read. "i see; you keep a diary."
"i do. i wouldn't take a hundred dollars for that book, poor as i am," added harvey, as he closed the volume and laid the pen on the table.[pg 66]
"shall i put it away for you?" asked leopold.
"no; thank you; i'll take care of it myself," he replied as he proceeded to fold the book in its oil-cloth cover.
when leopold had left the room, harvey barth enclosed the book in an old newspaper, and, getting out of bed, thrust the package up the flue of the little fireplace in the room, placing it on some projecting shelf or jamb which he had discovered there. he was very careful of the book, and seemed to be afraid some one might open it while he was asleep. doubtless the diary contained secrets he was not willing others should discover; and certainly no one would think of looking in the flue of the fireplace for it.
