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Authors: James Fenimore Cooper

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In walking around this deserted encampment, the traces of a pathway to
the shore were found. They were too obvious to be mistaken, and led us
to the water in the passage opposite to that by which the Crisis had
been carried in by the Dipper, and at a point that was not in view
from her present anchorage. Here we found a sort of landing, and many
of the heavier pieces of the wreck; such as it had not been thought
necessary to haul up to the fires, having no metal about them. Among
other things of this sort, was a portion of the keel quite thirty feet
long, the keelson bolts, keelson, and floor-timbers all attached. This
was the only instance in which we discovered any metal; and this we
found, only because the fragment was too strong and heavy to be
manageable. We looked carefully, in all directions, in the hope of
discovering something that might give us an insight into the nature of
the disaster that had evidently occurred, but, for some time without
success. At length I strolled to a little distance from the landing,
and took a seat on a flat stone, which had been placed on the living
rock that faced most of the island, evidently to form a
resting-place. My seat proved unsteady, and in endeavouring to adjust
it more to my mind, I removed the stone, and discovered that it rested
on a common log-slate. This slate was still covered with legible
writing, and I soon had the whole party around me, eager to learn the
contents. The melancholy record was in these precise words: viz.—

"The American brig Sea-Otter, John Squires, master,
coaxed
into
this bay, June 9th, 1797, and seized by savages, on the morning of the
11th. Master, second-mate, and seven of the people killed on the
spot. Brig gutted first, then hauled up
here
, and burnt to the
water's edge for the iron. David King, first-mate, and six others,
viz., George Lunt, Henry Webster, Stephen Stimpson and John Harris,
seamen, Bill Flint, cook, and Peter Doolittle, boy, still living, but
God only knows what is to be our fate. I shall put this slate beneath
the stone I now sit on, in the hope it may one day let our friends
learn what has happened."—

We looked at each other, astounded. Both the captain and Marble
remembered to have heard that a brig in this trade, called the
Sea-Otter, was missing; and, here, by a communication that was little
short of miraculous, we were let into the secret of her disappearance.

"
Coaxed
in—" repeated the captain, running his eye over the
writing, which had been thus singularly preserved, and that, in a
situation where one would think it might have been discovered a
thousand times.—"Yes, yes—I now begin to understand the whole
matter. If there were any wind, gentlemen, I would go to sea this very
night."

"That would be hardly worth our while, Captain Williams," the
chief-mate answered, "since we are now on our guard, and I feel pretty
certain that there are no savages in our neighbourhood. So far, the
Dipper and his friends have traded with us fairly enough, and it is
likely they have more skins to dispose of. This chap, whom the people
have christened Smudge, takes matters so coolly, that I hardly think
he knows anything about the Sea-Otter, which may have been cut off by
another gang, altogether."

There was good reason in these remarks, and they had their effect on
the captain. The latter, however, determined to put Smudge to the
proof, by showing him the slate, and otherwise bringing him under such
a cross-examination as signs alone could effect. I dare say, an
indifferent spectator would have laughed at witnessing our efforts to
confound the Indian. We made grimaces, pointed, exclaimed, hallooed,
swore, and gesticulated in vain. Smudge was as unmoved at it all, as
the fragment of keel to which he was confronted. The fellow either did
not, or would not understand us. His stupidity defied our tests; and
Marble gave the matter up in despair, declaring that "the beast knows
nothing of anything, much less of the Sea-Otter." As for the slate, he
did not seem to have the smallest notion what such a thing meant.

We returned to the ship, carrying with us the slate, and the report of
our discoveries. All hands were called, and the captain made us a
speech. It was sufficiently to the point, though it was not in the
least, of the "God-like" character. We were told how ships were lost
by the carelessness of their crews; reminded we were on the North-West
Coast, where a vessel with a few boxes of beads and bales of blankets,
to say nothing of her gunpowder, firearms, and metals, was as
valuable, as a vessel laden with gold dust would be in one of our own
ports. Vigilance, while on watch, and obedience to the orders of the
vessel, in the event of an alarm, were the principal things dwelt
on. By observing these two great requisites, we should all be safe
enough; whereas, by disregarding them, we should probably share the
fate of the people of the brig, of which we had just discovered some
of the remains.

I will confess, I passed an uncomfortable night. An unknown enemy is
always a formidable enemy; and I would rather have fought three
guarda-costas
at once, than lie where we did, in a bay as
smooth as a looking-glass, surrounded by forests as silent as a
desert, and in a well-armed ship, that was prepared at all points, to
meet her foes, even to her boarding-nettings.

Nothing came of it all. The Dipper and Smudge eat their supper with
the appetites of injured innocence, and slept like tops. If guilty, we
all agreed that they must be utterly destitute of consciences. As for
ourselves, we were on the alert until near morning, the very moment
when the danger would probably be the greatest, provided there were
any at all; and then weariness overcame all who were not on the
look-out, and some who were. Still, nothing happened. The sun returned
to us in due season, gilding the tree-tops with its beams; our little
bay began to bask in its glory, and with the cheerfulness that usually
accompanies such a scene, vanished most of our apprehensions for the
moment. A night of reflection had quieted our fears, and we all woke
up next morning, as indifferent to the fate of the Sea-Otter, as was
at all decent.

Chapter XIII
*

"The monarch mind—the mystery of commanding,
The godlike power—the art Napoleon,
Of winning, fettering, moulding, wielding, banding
The hearts of millions, till they move as one;
Thou hast it."
HALLECK—
Red Jacket
.

Smudge and the Dipper behaved admirably all next day. Beef, pork and
bread—those great desiderata of life, which the European is apt to
say form the
primum mobile
of American existence—seemed to
engross their thoughts; and when they were not eating, they were busy
with sleep. At length we grew ashamed of watching such mere animals,
and turned our thoughts to other subjects. We had understood the
Dipper, that eight-and-forty hours must elapse before we might expect
to see any more skins; and Captain Williams, passing from alarm to
extreme security, determined to profit by a lovely day, and send down,
or rather strip, all three of the top-masts, and pay some necessary
attention to their rigging. At nine o'clock, accordingly, the hands
were turned-to, and before noon the ship was pretty thoroughly
en
deshabille
. We sent as little down as possible, keeping even the
top-sail-yards aloft, though without their lifts or braces, steadying
them by guys; but the top-masts were lowered as far as was found
possible, without absolutely placing the lower yards on the
hammock-cloths. In a word, we put the ship in the most unmanageable
position, without absolutely littering our decks. The security of the
haven, and the extreme beauty of the weather, emboldened the captain
to do this; apprehension of every sort appearing to have quite taken
leave of him.

The work proceeded merrily. We had not only a strong crew, but we had
a good crew; and our Philadelphians were in their element, the moment
there was a question of the rigging. By sunset, the chafes were
examined, and parcelled, and served anew; and the top-mast rigging was
all got up and put over the mast-heads again, and everything was ready
to sway upon in the morning. But an uncommonly active day required a
good night's rest; and the people were all ordered to turn in, as soon
as they had supped. The ship was to be left to the vigilance of the
captain and the three mates, during the night.

The anchor-watch was set at eight, and ran from two hours, to two
hours. My turn commenced at midnight, and was to last until two;
Marble succeeding me from two until four, when all hands were to be
called to get our sticks aloft. When I turned out at twelve, I found
the third-mate conversing, as well as he could, with the Dipper; who,
with Smudge, having slept so much of the day, appeared disposed to
pass the night in smoking.

"How long have these fellows been on deck?" I asked of the third-mate,
as he was about to go below.

"All my watch; I found them with the captain, who passed them over to
me for company. If that chap, the Dipper, only knew anything of a
human language, he would be something of society; but I'm as tired of
making signs to him, as I ever was with a hard day's work."

I was armed, and felt ashamed of manifesting fear of an unarmed
man. Then the two savages gave no additional cause of distrust; the
Dipper having taken a seat on the windlass, where he was smoking his
pipe with an appearance of philosophy that would have done credit to
the gravest-looking baboon. As for Smudge, he did not appear to be
sufficiently intellectual to smoke; an occupation that has at least
the merit of affecting the air of wisdom and reflection. I never could
discover whether your great smokers were actually wiser than the rest
of the race, or not; but, it will be admitted, they occasionally seem
to be so. It was a pity Smudge did not have recourse to the practice,
as it might have given the fellow an appearance of sometimes
cogitating. As it was, while his companion was enjoying his pipe at
the windlass, he kept strolling about the deck, much as a pig would
have wandered in the same place, and seemingly with the same object.

I took charge of the decks with a very lively sense of the peculiarity
of our situation. The security that prevailed on board struck me as
unnatural; and yet I could detect no particular reason for immediate
alarm. I might be thrown overboard or murdered by the two savages on
deck, it was very true; but of what use would it be to destroy me,
since they could not hope to destroy all the rest on board without
being discovered. The night was star-lit, and there was little chance
of a canoe's approaching the ship without my seeing it; a circumstance
that, of itself, in a great measure, removed the danger. I passed the
first quarter of an hour in reflecting on these things; and then, as
use accustomed me to my situation, I began to think less of them, and
to revert to other subjects.

Clawbonny, Grace, Lucy, and Mr. Hardinge, often rose before my mind's
eye, in those distant seas. It was seldom I passed a tranquil watch at
night, without revisiting the scenes of my boyhood, and wandering
through my own fields, accompanied by my beloved sister, and her quite
as well beloved friend. How many hours of happiness had I thus passed
on the trackless wastes of the Pacific and the Atlantic; and with how
much fidelity did memory recall the peculiar graces, whether of body
or mind, of each of the dear girls in particular! Since my recent
experience in London, Emily Merton would occasionally adorn the
picture, with her more cultivated discourse and more finished manner;
and yet I do not remember to have ever given her more than a third
place on the scale of my admiration.

On the present occasion I was soon lost in ruminations on the past,
and in imagining events for the future. I was not particularly expert
at building castles in the air; but what youth of twenty, or maiden of
sixteen, never reared some sort of a fabric of this nature? These
fanciful structures are the results of inexperience building with the
materials of hope. In my most imaginative moments, I could even fancy
Rupert an industrious, staid lawyer, adorning his profession, and
rendering both Lucy and Grace happy. Beyond this, it was not easy for
the human faculties to conceive.

Lucy sang sweetly. At times, her songs fairly haunted me, and for
hours I could think of nothing but their tender sentiment and their
touching melody. I was no nightingale myself, though I sometimes
endeavoured to hum some one of the airs that floated in my
recollection, like beautiful visions of the past. This night, in
particular, my thoughts recurred to one of these songs that told of
affection and home; and I stood, for several minutes, leaning over the
railing forward, humming the tune to myself, while I endeavoured to
recall not only the words, but the sweet voice that was wont to give
them so much thrilling pathos. I did this sometimes at Clawbonny; and
time and again had Lucy placed her soft little hand on my mouth, as
she would laughingly say, "Miles, Miles! do not spoil so pretty a
song! You will never succeed with music, so work the harder with your
Latin." Sometimes she would steal behind me—I fancied I could hear
her breathing at my shoulder, even as I leaned over the rail—and
would apply her hand slyly to my lips, in her many attempts of this
nature. So vivid did one of these scenes become, that I thought I
really felt the soft smooth hand on my mouth, and I was actually about
to kiss it, when something that was smooth enough, certainly, but
which was very far from being soft, passed between my teeth, and I
felt it drawn so tight as completely to prevent my calling out. At the
same moment, my arms were seized from behind, and held as if grasped
by a vice. Turning, as well as I was able, I found that rascal Smudge
had been breathing within an inch of my ear, while he passed the gag;
and the Dipper was busy in lashing my arms together behind my
back. The whole had been done so suddenly, and yet with so much skill,
that I was a helpless prisoner, as it might be, in a single instant!

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