Silent Struggles. Ann S. Stephens
were looking for the ship so anxiously?"
"Aye, young man. I was looking for something which was to come up from the east through yon gate of clouds; but whether it was a weather-worn vessel or an archangel sent on some special mission, was not told me."
"And you come hither expecting nothing?"
"Expecting every thing, for Jehovah is everywhere," answered the old man, solemnly.
The youth was greatly impressed, his eye brightened.
"I only wish it were in my power to have expectations grounded on so much faith," he said. "Now I come forth like a storm-bird, because a strife of wind and water fills me with some grand expectation never realized, but which seems always on the verge of fulfilment. You may perchance smile, but it seems to me as if I had been months and years watching for that very craft yonder, as if my own fate were anchored with it in the storm. Nay, more, the guns, as they boomed over these waves, seemed challenging me to meet some new destiny, and grapple with it to the end, as I will—as I will!"
The young man stretched his arm towards the shadowy vessel, and his slight, almost boyish form swelled with excitement, while the dark brown eyes, usually bright and playful as a child's, darkened and grew larger with the sudden excitement that had come upon him.
The minister grasped his outstretched arm, and fixed a steady gaze on his face.
"And you also have been on the watch. Like me, you have come blindfold through the storm, searching into the future for that ghostly ship, where it spreads its shrouds of dull mist, and rocks upon the moaning sea. Has the spirit of prophecy touched your young life also, that you say these things with a shortened breath and white cheek, like one terrified or inspired?"
"I know not," said the young man; "but, like you, I have expected that visit long. In storm and darkness as it comes now have I seen it."
"How—where?" cried the old man, breathlessly.
"In my dreams or reveries, I know not which, it has floated often, shrouded as it is now, impalpable, a phantom of spars and fog."
"And you have seen this?"
"No, not with my eyes; it comes across my life like a ghost whose presence fills you with awe, but answers to no sense."
"Like a ghost which you would fain flee from and cannot. Is it thus the spirit deals with you also?"
"Nay, I would not flee, it arouses my courage. Even now my heart leaps toward yon vessel as if some precious thing lay in its hold which no one but myself may dare to claim."
"This is strange—marvellously strange," said the minister, forgetting himself in the enthusiasm of the young man.
"What is strange?"
"That we two should meet here for the first time in our lives, haunted by the same dreams, waiting together for the same revelation. Heaven forbid that this should prove a device of the evil one urging us on to perdition. I trust that you have not come forth without fasting and prayer, my young brother, for of a verity there is great need of both in these latter days."
The youth smiled, for solemn thoughts made but brief impressions on him, and the idea of quenching any one of his bright fancies by fasting or prayer amused him exceedingly, notwithstanding the earnestness of the old man's words.
The minister did not notice this gleam of levity, which would have shocked him to the soul, for his eyes were fascinated by the strange vessel, and he could not force them to look steadily on any other object.
While the two men stood together the wind had shifted, carrying off the rain. Through the gray mists left behind came a crimson glow from the sun, which was that moment sinking behind the heights and shooting its golden lances after the storm as it rolled slowly back upon the bosom of the ocean.
"It is gone," said the old man, mournfully, as the heavy clouds settled back upon the vessel; "the vapors have swallowed it up as usual. Let us descend the hill, brother."
"Not yet—not yet!" cried the youth. "See! the storm is breaking away, the sunset has drawn it seaward. Look, look how beautifully the vessel pencils itself against that break of blue in the sky."
The old man turned again, and clasping his hands, murmured, "It is neither phantom nor mist, but a ship of sturdy English oak, with masts and spars standing. Hush!—young man, see you nothing upon the deck?"
"Yes, surely, a group of persons standing together."
"No, not that, nearer the bow!"
"It is the form of a woman alone, with her arms folded and her face turned this way."
"Aye, the form of a woman with an outer garment of crimson, beneath which her arms are crossed as she looks westward, is it not?"
"Truly you have described the woman, for, though I cannot see her features, they are certainly turned this way."
"My sight is dim and will not serve me; tell me, stands the lady there yet?"
"Yes, yes—clearer and clearer the sunset gathers over the vessel, turning the angry waves to gold; the clouds are fringed with light, and grow luminous around her. Sir, I entreat you tell me—who is this woman?"
"Alas, I do not know."
"But the vessel, what is her name, from what port does she come?"
"How should I answer questions like these—I who never saw either the vessel or the woman till now, save as shadows drifting through the night. If yonder ship be, as it seems, of tough oak, and the woman a living soul, then is the revelation complete and I may seek rest, sure that the end will come."
The minister turned away as he spoke, and gathering the cloak around him prepared to descend toward the town, but the young man lingered.
"Stay, stay!" he cried; "the people on board that craft are mad! No boat could live in these waves, and yet they lower one to the water, and men jump in, flinging themselves over the side of the vessel. Come back, old man, she is preparing to descend. Her mantle gleams redly against the black side of the ship; she gathers it around her like the wings of a tropical bird, and settles down in the boat, which plunges and rocks like a wild animal tugging at its chains. They loosen the cable—a wave seizes upon the boat—it quivers upon the topmost crest—plunges—and—oh! heavens! A man poises himself on the bulwarks and leaps into the boiling ocean—the boat rocks heavily—turns to save him—they grasp at his garments and attempt to pull him in—now the boat is hurled onward and the poor man is lost—no! they fling a cable from the vessel—he snatches it and they draw him up the sides again. But the boat—another wave seizes it! Old man, old man, gather up your strength and follow me. It is for this we have been brought together."
The youth ran forward as he spoke, taking the nearest path to the shore. The minister followed after with a degree of energy that belied his years. Now and then they caught a glimpse of the boat, struggling feebly with the waves, and this gave them courage.
It was no slight distance that lay between the crest of that hill and the broken shore at its foot; but space seemed nothing to the impetuous young man. He rushed down the steep, calling out cheerfully for his companion to be careful of the inequalities over which he bounded like a deer, and at length stood panting on a curve of the beach, with his head uncovered and his wild, bright eyes roving over the harbor in search of the boat.
It was struggling up the harbor, beaten to and fro by the wind, which seemed to come from every point at once, and tossed fearfully by the waves that were wrangling together and leaping after it like ravenous wolves.
It was evident that the sailors had lost all control of the little craft, which fairly leaped in the water with a desperate strain, as if mad to escape from its howling enemies. Suddenly the wind took it on the crest of a wave, whirled it sheer about, and drove it on with fury towards the point where Parris and his young companion stood.
A chain of sunken rocks girded the shore in that place, breaking up the waves into innumerable whirlpools,