Chapter 17

"Sit still, and hear the last of our sea sorrow."--_Shakspeare_

The weight of the tempest had been felt at that hapless moment when Earing
and his unfortunate companions were precipitated from their giddy
elevation into the sea. Though the wind continued to blow long after this
fatal event, it was with a constantly diminishing power. As the gale
decreased the sea began to rise, and the vessel to labour in proportion.
Then followed two hours of anxious watchfulness on the part of Wilder,
during which the whole of his professional knowledge was needed in order
to keep the despoiled hull of the Bristol trader from becoming a prey to
the greedy waters. His consummate skill, however, proved equal to the task
that was required at his hands; and, just as the symptoms of day were
becoming visible along the east, both wind and waves were rapidly
subsiding together. During the whole of this doubtful period our
adventurer did not receive the smallest assistance from any of the crew,
with the exception of two experienced seamen whom he had previously
stationed at the wheel. But to this neglect he was indifferent; since
little more was required than his own judgment, seconded, as it faithfully
was, by the exertions of the manners more immediately under his eye.

The day dawned on a scene entirely different from that which had marked
the tempestuous deformity of the night. The whole fury of the winds
appear ed to have been expended in their precocious effort. From the
moderate gale, to which they had fallen by the end of the middle watch,
they further altered to a vacillating breeze; and, ere the sun had risen,
the changeful air had subsided into a flat calm. The sea went down as
suddenly as the power which had raised, it vanished; and, by the time the
broad golden light of the sun was shed fairly and fully upon the unstable
element, it lay unruffled and polished, though still gently heaving in
swells so long and heavy as to resemble the placid respiration of a
sleeping infant.

The hour was still early, and the serene appearance of the sky and the
ocean gave every promise of a day which might be passed in devising the
expedients necessary to bring the ship again, in some measure, under the
command of her people.

"Sound the pumps," said Wilder, observing that the crew were appearing
from the different places in which they had bestowed their cares and their
persons together, during the later hours of the night.

"Do you hear me, sir?" he added sternly, observing that no one moved to
obey his order. "Let the pumps be sounded, and the ship cleared of every
inch of water."

Nighthead, to whom Wilder had now addressed himself, regarded his
Commander with an