The Portland Sketch Book. Various

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THE CRUISE OF THE DART.

       Table of Contents

By S. B. Beckett.

       Table of Contents

      "There was an old and quiet man,

       And by the fire sat he;

       And now, said he, to you I'll tell

       Things passing strange that once befell

       A ship upon the sea."—Mary Howitt.

      "There she is, Ricardo," said I to my friend, as we reached the end of the pier, in Havana, while the Dart lay about half a mile off the shore,—"what think you of her?"

      "Beautiful!—a more symmetrical craft never passed the Moro!"

      So thought I, and my heart responded with a thrill of pride to the sentiment. How saucy she looked, with her gay streamers abroad upon the winds, and the red-striped flag of the Union floating jauntily at the main peak—with her lofty masts tapering away, till, relieved against the blue abyss, they were apparently diminished to the size of willow wands, while the slight ropes that supported the upper spars seemed, from the pier, like the fairy tracery of the spider. Although surrounded by ships, xebecs, brigantines, polacres, galleys and galliots from almost every clime in christendom, she stood up conspicuously among them all, an apt representative of the land whence she came! But let us take a nearer view of the beauty. The hull was long, low, and at the bows almost as sharp as the missile after which she was named. From the waist to the stern she tapered away in the most graceful proportions, and she had as lovely a run as ever slid over the dancing billows. Light and graceful as a sea-bird, she rocked on the undulating water. But her rig!—herein, to my thinking, was her chiefest beauty—every thing pertaining to it was so exact, so even and so tanto. Besides the sail usually carried by man-of-war schooners, she had the requisite appertenances for a royal and flying kite, or sky-sail, which, now that she was in port, were all rigged up. Not another vessel of her class in the navy could spread so much canvas to the influence of old Boreas as the Dart.

      Her armament consisted of one long brass twenty-four pounder, mounted on a revolving carriage midships, and six twelve-pound carronades. Add to this a picked crew of ninety men, with the redoubtable Jonathan West as our captain, Mr. Dacre Dacres as first, and your humble servant, Ahasuerus Hackinsack, as second lieutenant, besides a posse of minor officers and middies,—and you may form a faint idea of the Dart.

      Bidding adieu to my friend, I jumped into the pinnace waiting, and in a few minutes stood on her quarter deck.

      But it will be necessary for me to explain for what purpose the Dart was here. She had been dispatched by government to cruise among the Leeward Islands, and about Cape St. Antonio, in quest of a daring band of pirates, who, trusting to their superior prowess and the fleetness of their vessel, a schooner called the Sea-Sprite, had long scourged the merchantmen of the Indian seas with impunity. Cruiser after cruiser had been sent out to attack them in vain. She had invariably escaped, until at length, in reality, they were left for awhile, the undisputed 'rulers of the waves,' as they vauntingly styled themselves. It was said of the Sea-Sprite, that she was as fleet as the winds, and as mysterious in her movements; and her master spirit, the fierce Juan Piesta, was as wily and fierce a robber, as ever prowled upon the western waters. Indeed, so wonderful and various had been his escapes, that many of the Spaniards, and the lower orders of seamen in general, believed him to be leagued with the Powers of Darkness!

      But the Dart had been fitted up for the present cruise expressly on account of her matchless speed, and our captain, generally known in the service by the significant appellation of Old Satan West, was, in situations where fighting or peril formed any part of the story, a full match for his namesake.

      After cruising about the western extremity of Cuba, for nearly a month, to no purpose, we bore away for the southern coast of St. Domingo, and at the time my story opens, were off Jacquemel. The morning was heralded onward by troops of clouds, of the most brilliant and burning hues—deep crimson ridges—fire-fringed volumes of purple, hanging far in the depths of the mild and beautiful heaven—long, rose-tinted and golden plumes, stretching up from the horizon to the zenith,—forming altogether a most gorgeous and magnificent spectacle, while, to complete the pageant, the sun, just rising from his ocean lair, shed a flood of glaring light far over the restless expanse toward us, and every rope and spar of our vessel, begemmed with bright dew-drops, flashed and twinkled in his beams, like the jeweled robes of a princely bride.

      "Fore top there! what's that away in the wake o' the sun?" called out Mr. Dacres.

      "A drifting spar, I believe, Sir—but the sun throws such a glare on the water I cannot see plainly."

      I looked in the direction pointed out, and saw a dark object tumbling about on the fiery swell, like an evil spirit in torment. We altered our course and stood away toward it. It turned out to be a boat, apparently empty, but on a nearer inspection we perceived a man lying under its thwarts, whose pale, lank features and sunken eye bespoke him as suffering the last pangs of starvation. My surprise can better be imagined than described, on discovering in the unfortunate man a highly loved companion of my boyhood, Frederick Percy! He was transferred from his miserable quarters to a snug berth on board of the Dart, and in a few hours, by the judicious management of our surgeon, was resuscitated, so as to be able to come on deck.

      His story may be told in a few words. He had been travelling in England—while there had married a beautiful, but friendless orphan. Soon after this occurrence he embarked in one of his father's ships for Philadelphia, intending to touch at St. Domingo city, and take in a freight. But, three days before, when within a few hours' sail of their destined port, they had fallen in with a piratical schooner, which, after a short struggle, succeeded in capturing them. While protecting his wife from the insults of the bucaneers, he received a blow in the temple, which deprived him of his senses; and when he awoke to consciousness it was night, wild and dark, and he was tossing on the lone sea, without provisions, sail or oars, as we had found him. For three days he had not tasted food. Poor fellow! his anxiety as to the fate of his wife almost drove him to distraction.

      This circumstance assured us that we were on the right trail of the marauder whom we sought. We continued beating up the coast till noon, when the breeze died away into a stark calm, and we lay rolling on the long glassy swell, about ten leagues from the St. Domingo shore. The sun was intensely powerful, glowing through the hazy atmosphere, directly over our heads, like a red-hot cannon ball; and the far-stretching main was as sultry and arid as the sands of an African desert. To the north, the cloud-topped mountains of St. Domingo obstructed our view, looming through the blue haze to an immense height—presenting to as the aspect of huge, flat, shadowy walls; and one need have taxed his imagination but lightly, to fancy them the boundaries dividing us from a brighter and a better clime. The depths of the ocean were as translucent as an unobscured summer sky, and far beneath us we could distinguish the dolphins and king-fish, roaming leisurely about, or darting hither and thither as some object attracted their pursuit; while nearer its surface the blue element was alive with myriads of minor nondescripts, riggling, flouncing and lazily moving up and down,—probably attracted by the shade of our dark hull.

      The men having little else to do, obtained from the captain permission to СКАЧАТЬ