THE FISHERMAN'S FAMILY. "As he spoke, A sea burst o'er them, and their cables broke! "COME aft here, my lads, and haul down another reef in the mainsail!" exclaimed a hoary veteran, who stood at the helm of a fishing smack which was buffeting the waves at the entrance to the British Channel one October evening, when the lowering of the clouds and the freshening of the breeze gaye strong indications of a southwesterly gale. The order was promptly obeyed; and the snug little craft again breasted the lofty surge, like a bird upon the wing, skimming the foaming tops of the billows. "We shall have a rough night, father," said a middle aged man, whose hardy countenance had borne the washing of many a salt sea spray; "the sun is setting in yon bank, and tinges the ocean with his reddening hue. The summits of the Scilly Isles appear like dying watch-fires through the haze; and these, you know, are sure prognostics of a rising gale." "Then let it come," replied the veteran. "He whom the winds and the seas obey, can, when it pleaseth him, allay their fury and command them 'Peace, be still!' But go, Richard, have the trysail ready and get the storm-jib up; for by the long swell from the westward, I am of opinion there has been bad weather to windward, which will be down upon us before long; so let us have all low and snug before dark, my lad. And, James," continued he to a noble-looking, fair-haired lad; "James, set St. Agnes' lighthouse by the compass, for the fog will thicken presently; and yon Seven Stones*-worse than the plagues of Egypt to a sailor-look far from tempting, crested as they are with feathery foam." "I hope mother will not be uneasy about us," rejoined the youth, as he laid the edge of his hand upon the compass, directing it towards the lighthouse; "we have been a fortnight at sea, grandfather, and the tempests must have howled round the cottage fearfully o' nights; it has blown hard * The Seven Stones are dangerous rocks lying between the Scilly Isles and the Land's End. ever since we came out, and not a fish caught, besides losing part of our nets." "What, still uttering` complaints!" exclaimed the veteran. "Look at your brother yonder, on the windless end; how fearlessly he sits and watches the ill-omened bird* which triumphs in a storm." "He does not think of home," replied the youth. "But what would become of mother, and Jane, and the little ones, should the Fisherman's Family go to wreck?” "The Fisherman's Family go to wreck!" reiterated the old man, stamping his foot upon the deck; "she'll weather many a gale yet, my boy! Look at this white head!" and as he uncovered his hoary locks that wildly wantoned in the breeze, he presented a fine picture of Time steering inexperienced youth through the dangerous channels which beset human life. "Look at this white head!" he exclaimed; "the snows and storms of sixty-seven winters have passed over it, yet was I never deserted in peril by HIM in whom I have placed my trust. Your mother knows what a fisherman's life is. Ay, boy, it was my pride to fortify her mind against adversity. But go, James, * A small bird, like a swallow, that is scarcely ever seen except previously to or during a gale of wind. It is viewed with a superstitious feeling by seamen, who call it "Mother Carey's Chicken." and help your father reef the bowsprit; for we shall have the gale here presently." And a gale indeed they had; for scarcely was the glory of the day departed, when the wind, like a destroying angel, came sweeping over the surface of the deep, and dashing the billows up to heaven with fury. Night shed its blackness on the scene, whilst the dense fog rendered it more drear and horrible. Poor James thought of his mother and his happy home; whilst his brother Ned, though two years his junior, seemed like a child of the tempest, exulting in its lavish wild ness. The Fisherman's Family (for such was the name of the smack) rode buoyant on the waves; she rose and fell with the heave and set of the sea, like the swift-winged swallow when it stems the tempest; and the small bark scarcely felt the roughness of the billows, where larger vessels would have laboured fearfully with their heavy burdens. It was about ten o'clock, when the crew of the smack thought that amidst the roaring of the storm they could distinguish the reports of signalguns at a distance, and every ear was anxiously inclined to discover the quarter whence the sounds proceeded. At length they became more distinct, and it was soon ascertained that the vessel must be nearing them. The fog was still thick and gloomy, yet occasionally there were intervals of partial clearness; and it was during one of these breaks that a ship was descried drifting at the mercy of the wind and waves, for it was evident, from the wild course she was pursuing, that all management was lost. Her foremast, bowsprit, and main top-mast were gone; and having nothing aloft to steady her, the billows beat against her sides and dashed raging over her. The smack showed a light, which was immediately answered, and two guns fired to acknowledge the near approach of succour. "That ship has lost her rudder as well as her masts," exclaimed the old man; "she has struck somewhere; and now my lads, to render them assistance!" "Oh, if we should get her safe into Mount's Bay, grandfather," said James, “and a good salvage* awarded, what would mother say to us then? I should not mind the loss of the nets." "Let us save their lives," said Ned, "at all events; and if we can save the ship too, so much the better." In the course of another hour the smack was hailing the ship, and found that her rudder had been knocked away upon the rocks at the same * Salvage is a sum of money allowed to individuals who are instrumental in saving a ship from being wrecked. VOL. II. E |