diff options
Diffstat (limited to '15859-h/15859-h.htm')
| -rw-r--r-- | 15859-h/15859-h.htm | 11071 |
1 files changed, 11071 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/15859-h/15859-h.htm b/15859-h/15859-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f8ca1ae --- /dev/null +++ b/15859-h/15859-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11071 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Piazza Tales, by Herman Melville</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.center {text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.right {text-align: right; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.footnote {font-size: 90%; + text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +sup { vertical-align: top; font-size: 0.6em; } + +div.fig { display:block; + margin:0 auto; + text-align:center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Piazza Tales, by Herman Melville</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Piazza Tales</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Herman Melville</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: May 18, 2005 [eBook #15859]<br /> +[Most recently updated: January 8, 2022]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Dave Maddock, Josephine Paolucci, Joshua Hutchinson, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PIAZZA TALES ***</div> + +<h1>The Piazza Tales</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">by Herman Melville</h2> + +<p class="center"> +Author of “Typee,” “Omoo,” etc., etc., etc. +</p> + +<p class="center"> +New York;<br/> +Dix & Edwards, 321 Broadway.<br/> +London: Sampson Low, Son & Co.<br/> +Miller & Holman,<br/> +Printers & Stereotypers, N.Y. +</p> + +<p class="center"> +1856 +</p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">The Piazza</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">Bartleby</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">Benito Cereno</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">The Lightning-Rod Man</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05">The Encantadas</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap06">The Bell-Tower</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>THE PIAZZA.</h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“With fairest flowers,<br/> +Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele—” +</p> + +<p> +When I removed into the country, it was to occupy an old-fashioned farm-house, +which had no piazza—a deficiency the more regretted, because not only did +I like piazzas, as somehow combining the coziness of in-doors with the freedom +of out-doors, and it is so pleasant to inspect your thermometer there, but the +country round about was such a picture, that in berry time no boy climbs hill +or crosses vale without coming upon easels planted in every nook, and sun-burnt +painters painting there. A very paradise of painters. The circle of the stars +cut by the circle of the mountains. At least, so looks it from the house; +though, once upon the mountains, no circle of them can you see. Had the site +been chosen five rods off, this charmed ring would not have been. +</p> + +<p> +The house is old. Seventy years since, from the heart of the Hearth Stone +Hills, they quarried the Kaaba, or Holy Stone, to which, each Thanksgiving, the +social pilgrims used to come. So long ago, that, in digging for the foundation, +the workmen used both spade and axe, fighting the Troglodytes of those +subterranean parts—sturdy roots of a sturdy wood, encamped upon what is +now a long land-slide of sleeping meadow, sloping away off from my poppy-bed. +Of that knit wood, but one survivor stands—an elm, lonely through +steadfastness. +</p> + +<p> +Whoever built the house, he builded better than he knew; or else Orion in the +zenith flashed down his Damocles’ sword to him some starry night, and +said, “Build there.” For how, otherwise, could it have entered the +builder’s mind, that, upon the clearing being made, such a purple +prospect would be his?—nothing less than Greylock, with all his hills +about him, like Charlemagne among his peers. +</p> + +<p> +Now, for a house, so situated in such a country, to have no piazza for the +convenience of those who might desire to feast upon the view, and take their +time and ease about it, seemed as much of an omission as if a picture-gallery +should have no bench; for what but picture-galleries are the marble halls of +these same limestone hills?—galleries hung, month after month anew, with +pictures ever fading into pictures ever fresh. And beauty is like +piety—you cannot run and read it; tranquillity and constancy, with, +now-a-days, an easy chair, are needed. For though, of old, when reverence was +in vogue, and indolence was not, the devotees of Nature, doubtless, used to +stand and adore—just as, in the cathedrals of those ages, the worshipers +of a higher Power did—yet, in these times of failing faith and feeble +knees, we have the piazza and the pew. +</p> + +<p> +During the first year of my residence, the more leisurely to witness the +coronation of Charlemagne (weather permitting, they crown him every sunrise and +sunset), I chose me, on the hill-side bank near by, a royal lounge of +turf—a green velvet lounge, with long, moss-padded back; while at the +head, strangely enough, there grew (but, I suppose, for heraldry) three tufts +of blue violets in a field-argent of wild strawberries; and a trellis, with +honeysuckle, I set for canopy. Very majestical lounge, indeed. So much so, that +here, as with the reclining majesty of Denmark in his orchard, a sly ear-ache +invaded me. But, if damps abound at times in Westminster Abbey, because it is +so old, why not within this monastery of mountains, which is older? +</p> + +<p> +A piazza must be had. +</p> + +<p> +The house was wide—my fortune narrow; so that, to build a panoramic +piazza, one round and round, it could not be—although, indeed, +considering the matter by rule and square, the carpenters, in the kindest way, +were anxious to gratify my furthest wishes, at I’ve forgotten how much a +foot. +</p> + +<p> +Upon but one of the four sides would prudence grant me what I wanted. Now, +which side? +</p> + +<p> +To the east, that long camp of the Hearth Stone Hills, fading far away towards +Quito; and every fall, a small white flake of something peering suddenly, of a +coolish morning, from the topmost cliff—the season’s new-dropped +lamb, its earliest fleece; and then the Christmas dawn, draping those dim +highlands with red-barred plaids and tartans—goodly sight from your +piazza, that. Goodly sight; but, to the north is Charlemagne—can’t +have the Hearth Stone Hills with Charlemagne. +</p> + +<p> +Well, the south side. Apple-trees are there. Pleasant, of a balmy morning, in +the month of May, to sit and see that orchard, white-budded, as for a bridal; +and, in October, one green arsenal yard; such piles of ruddy shot. Very fine, I +grant; but, to the north is Charlemagne. +</p> + +<p> +The west side, look. An upland pasture, alleying away into a maple wood at top. +Sweet, in opening spring, to trace upon the hill-side, otherwise gray and +bare—to trace, I say, the oldest paths by their streaks of earliest +green. Sweet, indeed, I can’t deny; but, to the north is Charlemagne. +</p> + +<p> +So Charlemagne, he carried it. It was not long after 1848; and, somehow, about +that time, all round the world, these kings, they had the casting vote, and +voted for themselves. +</p> + +<p> +No sooner was ground broken, than all the neighborhood, neighbor Dives, in +particular, broke, too—into a laugh. Piazza to the north! Winter piazza! +Wants, of winter midnights, to watch the Aurora Borealis, I suppose; hope +he’s laid in good store of Polar muffs and mittens. +</p> + +<p> +That was in the lion month of March. Not forgotten are the blue noses of the +carpenters, and how they scouted at the greenness of the cit, who would build +his sole piazza to the north. But March don’t last forever; patience, and +August comes. And then, in the cool elysium of my northern bower, I, Lazarus in +Abraham’s bosom, cast down the hill a pitying glance on poor old Dives, +tormented in the purgatory of his piazza to the south. +</p> + +<p> +But, even in December, this northern piazza does not repel—nipping cold +and gusty though it be, and the north wind, like any miller, bolting by the +snow, in finest flour—for then, once more, with frosted beard, I pace the +sleety deck, weathering Cape Horn. +</p> + +<p> +In summer, too, Canute-like, sitting here, one is often reminded of the sea. +For not only do long ground-swells roll the slanting grain, and little wavelets +of the grass ripple over upon the low piazza, as their beach, and the blown +down of dandelions is wafted like the spray, and the purple of the mountains is +just the purple of the billows, and a still August noon broods upon the deep +meadows, as a calm upon the Line; but the vastness and the lonesomeness are so +oceanic, and the silence and the sameness, too, that the first peep of a +strange house, rising beyond the trees, is for all the world like spying, on +the Barbary coast, an unknown sail. +</p> + +<p> +And this recalls my inland voyage to fairy-land. A true voyage; but, take it +all in all, interesting as if invented. +</p> + +<p> +From the piazza, some uncertain object I had caught, mysteriously snugged away, +to all appearance, in a sort of purpled breast-pocket, high up in a hopper-like +hollow, or sunken angle, among the northwestern mountains—yet, whether, +really, it was on a mountain-side, or a mountain-top, could not be determined; +because, though, viewed from favorable points, a blue summit, peering up away +behind the rest, will, as it were, talk to you over their heads, and plainly +tell you, that, though he (the blue summit) seems among them, he is not of them +(God forbid!), and, indeed, would have you know that he considers +himself—as, to say truth, he has good right—by several cubits their +superior, nevertheless, certain ranges, here and there double-filed, as in +platoons, so shoulder and follow up upon one another, with their irregular +shapes and heights, that, from the piazza, a nigher and lower mountain will, in +most states of the atmosphere, effacingly shade itself away into a higher and +further one; that an object, bleak on the former’s crest, will, for all +that, appear nested in the latter’s flank. These mountains, somehow, they +play at hide-and-seek, and all before one’s eyes. +</p> + +<p> +But, be that as it may, the spot in question was, at all events, so situated as +to be only visible, and then but vaguely, under certain witching conditions of +light and shadow. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, for a year or more, I knew not there was such a spot, and might, +perhaps, have never known, had it not been for a wizard afternoon in +autumn—late in autumn—a mad poet’s afternoon; when the turned +maple woods in the broad basin below me, having lost their first vermilion +tint, dully smoked, like smouldering towns, when flames expire upon their prey; +and rumor had it, that this smokiness in the general air was not all Indian +summer—which was not used to be so sick a thing, however mild—but, +in great part, was blown from far-off forests, for weeks on fire, in Vermont; +so that no wonder the sky was ominous as Hecate’s cauldron—and two +sportsmen, crossing a red stubble buck-wheat field, seemed guilty Macbeth and +foreboding Banquo; and the hermit-sun, hutted in an Adullum cave, well towards +the south, according to his season, did little else but, by indirect reflection +of narrow rays shot down a Simplon pass among the clouds, just steadily paint +one small, round, strawberry mole upon the wan cheek of northwestern hills. +Signal as a candle. One spot of radiance, where all else was shade. +</p> + +<p> +Fairies there, thought I; some haunted ring where fairies dance. +</p> + +<p> +Time passed; and the following May, after a gentle shower upon the +mountains—a little shower islanded in misty seas of sunshine; such a +distant shower—and sometimes two, and three, and four of them, all +visible together in different parts—as I love to watch from the piazza, +instead of thunder storms, as I used to, which wrap old Greylock, like a Sinai, +till one thinks swart Moses must be climbing among scathed hemlocks there; +after, I say, that, gentle shower, I saw a rainbow, resting its further end +just where, in autumn, I had marked the mole. Fairies there, thought I; +remembering that rainbows bring out the blooms, and that, if one can but get to +the rainbow’s end, his fortune is made in a bag of gold. Yon +rainbow’s end, would I were there, thought I. And none the less I wished +it, for now first noticing what seemed some sort of glen, or grotto, in the +mountain side; at least, whatever it was, viewed through the rainbow’s +medium, it glowed like the Potosi mine. But a work-a-day neighbor said, no +doubt it was but some old barn—an abandoned one, its broadside beaten in, +the acclivity its background. But I, though I had never been there, I knew +better. +</p> + +<p> +A few days after, a cheery sunrise kindled a golden sparkle in the same spot as +before. The sparkle was of that vividness, it seemed as if it could only come +from glass. The building, then—if building, after all, it +was—could, at least, not be a barn, much less an abandoned one; stale hay +ten years musting in it. No; if aught built by mortal, it must be a cottage; +perhaps long vacant and dismantled, but this very spring magically fitted up +and glazed. +</p> + +<p> +Again, one noon, in the same direction, I marked, over dimmed tops of terraced +foliage, a broader gleam, as of a silver buckler, held sunwards over some +croucher’s head; which gleam, experience in like cases taught, must come +from a roof newly shingled. This, to me, made pretty sure the recent occupancy +of that far cot in fairy land. +</p> + +<p> +Day after day, now, full of interest in my discovery, what time I could spare +from reading the Midsummer’s Night Dream, and all about Titania, +wishfully I gazed off towards the hills; but in vain. Either troops of shadows, +an imperial guard, with slow pace and solemn, defiled along the steeps; or, +routed by pursuing light, fled broadcast from east to west—old wars of +Lucifer and Michael; or the mountains, though unvexed by these mirrored sham +fights in the sky, had an atmosphere otherwise unfavorable for fairy views. I +was sorry; the more so, because I had to keep my chamber for some time +after—which chamber did not face those hills. +</p> + +<p> +At length, when pretty well again, and sitting out, in the September morning, +upon the piazza, and thinking to myself, when, just after a little flock of +sheep, the farmer’s banded children passed, a-nutting, and said, +“How sweet a day”—it was, after all, but what their fathers +call a weather-breeder—and, indeed, was become so sensitive through my +illness, as that I could not bear to look upon a Chinese creeper of my +adoption, and which, to my delight, climbing a post of the piazza, had burst +out in starry bloom, but now, if you removed the leaves a little, showed +millions of strange, cankerous worms, which, feeding upon those blossoms, so +shared their blessed hue, as to make it unblessed evermore—worms, whose +germs had doubtless lurked in the very bulb which, so hopefully, I had planted: +in this ingrate peevishness of my weary convalescence, was I sitting there; +when, suddenly looking off, I saw the golden mountain-window, dazzling like a +deep-sea dolphin. Fairies there, thought I, once more; the queen of fairies at +her fairy-window; at any rate, some glad mountain-girl; it will do me good, it +will cure this weariness, to look on her. No more; I’ll launch my +yawl—ho, cheerly, heart! and push away for fairy-land—for +rainbow’s end, in fairy-land. +</p> + +<p> +How to get to fairy-land, by what road, I did not know; nor could any one +inform me; not even one Edmund Spenser, who had been there—so he wrote +me—further than that to reach fairy-land, it must be voyaged to, and with +faith. I took the fairy-mountain’s bearings, and the first fine day, when +strength permitted, got into my yawl—high-pommeled, leather +one—cast off the fast, and away I sailed, free voyager as an autumn leaf. +Early dawn; and, sallying westward, I sowed the morning before me. +</p> + +<p> +Some miles brought me nigh the hills; but out of present sight of them. I was +not lost; for road-side golden-rods, as guide-posts, pointed, I doubted not, +the way to the golden window. Following them, I came to a lone and languid +region, where the grass-grown ways were traveled but by drowsy cattle, that, +less waked than stirred by day, seemed to walk in sleep. Browse, they did +not—the enchanted never eat. At least, so says Don Quixote, that sagest +sage that ever lived. +</p> + +<p> +On I went, and gained at last the fairy mountain’s base, but saw yet no +fairy ring. A pasture rose before me. Letting down five mouldering +bars—so moistly green, they seemed fished up from some sunken +wreck—a wigged old Aries, long-visaged, and with crumpled horn, came +snuffing up; and then, retreating, decorously led on along a milky-way of +white-weed, past dim-clustering Pleiades and Hyades, of small forget-me-nots; +and would have led me further still his astral path, but for golden flights of +yellow-birds—pilots, surely, to the golden window, to one side flying +before me, from bush to bush, towards deep woods—which woods themselves +were luring—and, somehow, lured, too, by their fence, banning a dark +road, which, however dark, led up. I pushed through; when Aries, renouncing me +now for some lost soul, wheeled, and went his wiser way. Forbidding and +forbidden ground—to him. +</p> + +<p> +A winter wood road, matted all along with winter-green. By the side of pebbly +waters—waters the cheerier for their solitude; beneath swaying +fir-boughs, petted by no season, but still green in all, on I +journeyed—my horse and I; on, by an old saw-mill, bound down and hushed +with vines, that his grating voice no more was heard; on, by a deep flume clove +through snowy marble, vernal-tinted, where freshet eddies had, on each side, +spun out empty chapels in the living rock; on, where Jacks-in-the-pulpit, like +their Baptist namesake, preached but to the wilderness; on, where a huge, +cross-grain block, fern-bedded, showed where, in forgotten times, man after man +had tried to split it, but lost his wedges for his pains—which wedges yet +rusted in their holes; on, where, ages past, in step-like ledges of a cascade, +skull-hollow pots had been churned out by ceaseless whirling of a +flintstone—ever wearing, but itself unworn; on, by wild rapids pouring +into a secret pool, but soothed by circling there awhile, issued forth +serenely; on, to less broken ground, and by a little ring, where, truly, +fairies must have danced, or else some wheel-tire been heated—for all was +bare; still on, and up, and out into a hanging orchard, where maidenly looked +down upon me a crescent moon, from morning. +</p> + +<p> +My horse hitched low his head. Red apples rolled before him; Eve’s +apples; seek-no-furthers. He tasted one, I another; it tasted of the ground. +Fairy land not yet, thought I, flinging my bridle to a humped old tree, that +crooked out an arm to catch it. For the way now lay where path was none, and +none might go but by himself, and only go by daring. Through blackberry brakes +that tried to pluck me back, though I but strained towards fruitless growths of +mountain-laurel; up slippery steeps to barren heights, where stood none to +welcome. Fairy land not yet, thought I, though the morning is here before me. +</p> + +<p> +Foot-sore enough and weary, I gained not then my journey’s end, but came +ere long to a craggy pass, dipping towards growing regions still beyond. A +zigzag road, half overgrown with blueberry bushes, here turned among the +cliffs. A rent was in their ragged sides; through it a little track branched +off, which, upwards threading that short defile, came breezily out above, to +where the mountain-top, part sheltered northward, by a taller brother, sloped +gently off a space, ere darkly plunging; and here, among fantastic rocks, +reposing in a herd, the foot-track wound, half beaten, up to a little, +low-storied, grayish cottage, capped, nun-like, with a peaked roof. +</p> + +<p> +On one slope, the roof was deeply weather-stained, and, nigh the turfy +eaves-trough, all velvet-napped; no doubt the snail-monks founded mossy +priories there. The other slope was newly shingled. On the north side, doorless +and windowless, the clap-boards, innocent of paint, were yet green as the north +side of lichened pines or copperless hulls of Japanese junks, becalmed. The +whole base, like those of the neighboring rocks, was rimmed about with shaded +streaks of richest sod; for, with hearth-stones in fairy land, the natural +rock, though housed, preserves to the last, just as in open fields, its +fertilizing charm; only, by necessity, working now at a remove, to the sward +without. So, at least, says Oberon, grave authority in fairy lore. Though +setting Oberon aside, certain it is, that, even in the common world, the soil, +close up to farm-houses, as close up to pasture rocks, is, even though +untended, ever richer than it is a few rods off—such gentle, nurturing +heat is radiated there. +</p> + +<p> +But with this cottage, the shaded streaks were richest in its front and about +its entrance, where the ground-sill, and especially the doorsill had, through +long eld, quietly settled down. +</p> + +<p> +No fence was seen, no inclosure. Near by—ferns, ferns, ferns; +further—woods, woods, woods; beyond—mountains, mountains, +mountains; then—sky, sky, sky. Turned out in aerial commons, pasture for +the mountain moon. Nature, and but nature, house and, all; even a low +cross-pile of silver birch, piled openly, to season; up among whose silvery +sticks, as through the fencing of some sequestered grave, sprang vagrant +raspberry bushes—willful assertors of their right of way. +</p> + +<p> +The foot-track, so dainty narrow, just like a sheep-track, led through long +ferns that lodged. Fairy land at last, thought I; Una and her lamb dwell here. +Truly, a small abode—mere palanquin, set down on the summit, in a pass +between two worlds, participant of neither. +</p> + +<p> +A sultry hour, and I wore a light hat, of yellow sinnet, with white duck +trowsers—both relics of my tropic sea-going. Clogged in the muffling +ferns, I softly stumbled, staining the knees a sea-green. +</p> + +<p> +Pausing at the threshold, or rather where threshold once had been, I saw, +through the open door-way, a lonely girl, sewing at a lonely window. A +pale-cheeked girl, and fly-specked window, with wasps about the mended upper +panes. I spoke. She shyly started, like some Tahiti girl, secreted for a +sacrifice, first catching sight, through palms, of Captain Cook. Recovering, +she bade me enter; with her apron brushed off a stool; then silently resumed +her own. With thanks I took the stool; but now, for a space, I, too, was mute. +This, then, is the fairy-mountain house, and here, the fairy queen sitting at +her fairy window. +</p> + +<p> +I went up to it. Downwards, directed by the tunneled pass, as through a leveled +telescope, I caught sight of a far-off, soft, azure world. I hardly knew it, +though I came from it. +</p> + +<p> +“You must find this view very pleasant,” said I, at last. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, sir,” tears starting in her eyes, “the first time I +looked out of this window, I said ‘never, never shall I weary of +this.’” +</p> + +<p> +“And what wearies you of it now?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” while a tear fell; “but it is not the +view, it is Marianna.” +</p> + +<p> +Some months back, her brother, only seventeen, had come hither, a long way from +the other side, to cut wood and burn coal, and she, elder sister, had +accompanied, him. Long had they been orphans, and now, sole inhabitants of the +sole house upon the mountain. No guest came, no traveler passed. The zigzag, +perilous road was only used at seasons by the coal wagons. The brother was +absent the entire day, sometimes the entire night. When at evening, fagged out, +he did come home, he soon left his bench, poor fellow, for his bed; just as +one, at last, wearily quits that, too, for still deeper rest. The bench, the +bed, the grave. +</p> + +<p> +Silent I stood by the fairy window, while these things were being told. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know,” said she at last, as stealing from her story, +“do you know who lives yonder?—I have never been down into that +country—away off there, I mean; that house, that marble one,” +pointing far across the lower landscape; “have you not caught it? there, +on the long hill-side: the field before, the woods behind; the white shines out +against their blue; don’t you mark it? the only house in sight.” +</p> + +<p> +I looked; and after a time, to my surprise, recognized, more by its position +than its aspect, or Marianna’s description, my own abode, glimmering much +like this mountain one from the piazza. The mirage haze made it appear less a +farm-house than King Charming’s palace. +</p> + +<p> +“I have often wondered who lives there; but it must be some happy one; +again this morning was I thinking so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Some happy one,” returned I, starting; “and why do you think +that? You judge some rich one lives there?” +</p> + +<p> +“Rich or not, I never thought; but it looks so happy, I can’t tell +how; and it is so far away. Sometimes I think I do but dream it is there. You +should see it in a sunset.” +</p> + +<p> +“No doubt the sunset gilds it finely; but not more than the sunrise does +this house, perhaps.” +</p> + +<p> +“This house? The sun is a good sun, but it never gilds this house. Why +should it? This old house is rotting. That makes it so mossy. In the morning, +the sun comes in at this old window, to be sure—boarded up, when first we +came; a window I can’t keep clean, do what I may—and half burns, +and nearly blinds me at my sewing, besides setting the flies and wasps +astir—such flies and wasps as only lone mountain houses know. See, here +is the curtain—this apron—I try to shut it out with then. It fades +it, you see. Sun gild this house? not that ever Marianna saw.” +</p> + +<p> +“Because when this roof is gilded most, then you stay here within.” +</p> + +<p> +“The hottest, weariest hour of day, you mean? Sir, the sun gilds not this +roof. It leaked so, brother newly shingled all one side. Did you not see it? +The north side, where the sun strikes most on what the rain has wetted. The sun +is a good sun; but this roof, in first scorches, and then rots. An old house. +They went West, and are long dead, they say, who built it. A mountain house. In +winter no fox could den in it. That chimney-place has been blocked up with +snow, just like a hollow stump.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yours are strange fancies, Marianna.” +</p> + +<p> +“They but reflect the things.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I should have said, ‘These are strange things,’ rather +than, ‘Yours are strange fancies.’” +</p> + +<p> +“As you will;” and took up her sewing. +</p> + +<p> +Something in those quiet words, or in that quiet act, it made me mute again; +while, noting, through the fairy window, a broad shadow stealing on, as cast by +some gigantic condor, floating at brooding poise on outstretched wings, I +marked how, by its deeper and inclusive dusk, it wiped away into itself all +lesser shades of rock or fern. +</p> + +<p> +“You watch the cloud,” said Marianna. +</p> + +<p> +“No, a shadow; a cloud’s, no doubt—though that I cannot see. +How did you know it? Your eyes are on your work.” +</p> + +<p> +“It dusked my work. There, now the cloud is gone, Tray comes back.” +</p> + +<p> +“How?” +</p> + +<p> +“The dog, the shaggy dog. At noon, he steals off, of himself, to change +his shape—returns, and lies down awhile, nigh the door. Don’t you +see him? His head is turned round at you; though, when you came, he looked +before him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your eyes rest but on your work; what do you speak of?” +</p> + +<p> +“By the window, crossing.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean this shaggy shadow—the nigh one? And, yes, now that I +mark it, it is not unlike a large, black Newfoundland dog. The invading shadow +gone, the invaded one returns. But I do not see what casts it.” +</p> + +<p> +“For that, you must go without.” +</p> + +<p> +“One of those grassy rocks, no doubt.” +</p> + +<p> +“You see his head, his face?” +</p> + +<p> +“The shadow’s? You speak as if <i>you</i> saw it, and all the time +your eyes are on your work.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tray looks at you,” still without glancing up; “this is his +hour; I see him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you then, so long sat at this mountain-window, where but clouds +and, vapors pass, that, to you, shadows are as things, though you speak of them +as of phantoms; that, by familiar knowledge, working like a second sight, you +can, without looking for them, tell just where they are, though, as having +mice-like feet, they creep about, and come and go; that, to you, these lifeless +shadows are as living friends, who, though out of sight, are not out of mind, +even in their faces—is it so?” +</p> + +<p> +“That way I never thought of it. But the friendliest one, that used to +soothe my weariness so much, coolly quivering on the ferns, it was taken from +me, never to return, as Tray did just now. The shadow of a birch. The tree was +struck by lightning, and brother cut it up. You saw the cross-pile +out-doors—the buried root lies under it; but not the shadow. That is +flown, and never will come back, nor ever anywhere stir again.” +</p> + +<p> +Another cloud here stole along, once more blotting out the dog, and blackening +all the mountain; while the stillness was so still, deafness might have forgot +itself, or else believed that noiseless shadow spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Birds, Marianna, singing-birds, I hear none; I hear nothing. Boys and +bob-o-links, do they never come a-berrying up here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Birds, I seldom hear; boys, never. The berries mostly ripe and +fall—few, but me, the wiser.” +</p> + +<p> +“But yellow-birds showed me the way—part way, at least.” +</p> + +<p> +“And then flew back. I guess they play about the mountain-side, but +don’t make the top their home. And no doubt you think that, living so +lonesome here, knowing nothing, hearing nothing—little, at least, but +sound of thunder and the fall of trees—never reading, seldom speaking, +yet ever wakeful, this is what gives me my strange thoughts—for so you +call them—this weariness and wakefulness together Brother, who stands and +works in open air, would I could rest like him; but mine is mostly but dull +woman’s work—sitting, sitting, restless sitting.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, do you not go walk at times? These woods are wide.” +</p> + +<p> +“And lonesome; lonesome, because so wide. Sometimes, ’tis true, of +afternoons, I go a little way; but soon come back again. Better feel lone by +hearth, than rock. The shadows hereabouts I know—those in the woods are +strangers.” +</p> + +<p> +“But the night?” +</p> + +<p> +“Just like the day. Thinking, thinking—a wheel I cannot stop; pure +want of sleep it is that turns it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have heard that, for this wakeful weariness, to say one’s +prayers, and then lay one’s head upon a fresh hop pillow—” +</p> + +<p> +“Look!” +</p> + +<p> +Through the fairy window, she pointed down the steep to a small garden patch +near by—mere pot of rifled loam, half rounded in by sheltering +rocks—where, side by side, some feet apart, nipped and puny, two +hop-vines climbed two poles, and, gaining their tip-ends, would have then +joined over in an upward clasp, but the baffled shoots, groping awhile in empty +air, trailed back whence they sprung. +</p> + +<p> +“You have tried the pillow, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“And prayer?” +</p> + +<p> +“Prayer and pillow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is there no other cure, or charm?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, if I could but once get to yonder house, and but look upon whoever +the happy being is that lives there! A foolish thought: why do I think it? Is +it that I live so lonesome, and know nothing?” +</p> + +<p> +“I, too, know nothing; and, therefore, cannot answer; but, for your sake, +Marianna, well could wish that I were that happy one of the happy house you +dream you see; for then you would behold him now, and, as you say, this +weariness might leave you.” +</p> + +<p> +—Enough. Launching my yawl no more for fairy-land, I stick to the piazza. +It is my box-royal; and this amphitheatre, my theatre of San Carlo. Yes, the +scenery is magical—the illusion so complete. And Madam Meadow Lark, my +prima donna, plays her grand engagement here; and, drinking in her sunrise +note, which, Memnon-like, seems struck from the golden window, how far from me +the weary face behind it. +</p> + +<p> +But, every night, when the curtain falls, truth comes in with darkness. No +light shows from the mountain. To and fro I walk the piazza deck, haunted by +Marianna’s face, and many as real a story. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>BARTLEBY.</h2> + +<p> +I am a rather elderly man. The nature of my avocations, for the last thirty +years, has brought me into more than ordinary contact with what would seem an +interesting and somewhat singular set of men, of whom, as yet, nothing, that I +know of, has ever been written—I mean, the law-copyists, or scriveners. I +have known very many of them, professionally and privately, and, if I pleased, +could relate divers histories, at which good-natured gentlemen might smile, and +sentimental souls might weep. But I waive the biographies of all other +scriveners, for a few passages in the life of Bartleby, who was a scrivener, +the strangest I ever saw, or heard of. While, of other law-copyists, I might +write the complete life, of Bartleby nothing of that sort can be done. I +believe that no materials exist, for a full and satisfactory biography of this +man. It is an irreparable loss to literature. Bartleby was one of those beings +of whom nothing is ascertainable, except from the original sources, and, in his +case, those are very small. What my own astonished eyes saw of Bartleby, +<i>that</i> is all I know of him, except, indeed, one vague report, which will +appear in the sequel. +</p> + +<p> +Ere introducing the scrivener, as he first appeared to me, it is fit I make +some mention of myself, my <i>employés</i>, my business, my chambers, and +general surroundings; because some such description is indispensable to an +adequate understanding of the chief character about to be presented. Imprimis: +I am a man who, from his youth upwards, has been filled with a profound +conviction that the easiest way of life is the best. Hence, though I belong to +a profession proverbially energetic and nervous, even to turbulence, at times, +yet nothing of that sort have I ever suffered to invade my peace. I am one of +those unambitious lawyers who never addresses a jury, or in any way draws down +public applause; but, in the cool tranquillity of a snug retreat, do a snug +business among rich men’s bonds, and mortgages, and title-deeds. All who +know me, consider me an eminently <i>safe</i> man. The late John Jacob Astor, a +personage little given to poetic enthusiasm, had no hesitation in pronouncing +my first grand point to be prudence; my next, method. I do not speak it in +vanity, but simply record the fact, that I was not unemployed in my profession +by the late John Jacob Astor; a name which, I admit, I love to repeat; for it +hath a rounded and orbicular sound to it, and rings like unto bullion. I will +freely add, that I was not insensible to the late John Jacob Astor’s good +opinion. +</p> + +<p> +Some time prior to the period at which this little history begins, my +avocations had been largely increased. The good old office, now extinct in the +State of New York, of a Master in Chancery, had been conferred upon me. It was +not a very arduous office, but very pleasantly remunerative. I seldom lose my +temper; much more seldom indulge in dangerous indignation at wrongs and +outrages; but, I must be permitted to be rash here, and declare, that I +consider the sudden and violent abrogation of the office of Master in Chancery, +by the new Constitution, as a —— premature act; inasmuch as I had +counted upon a life-lease of the profits, whereas I only received those of a +few short years. But this is by the way. +</p> + +<p> +My chambers were up stairs, at No. —— Wall street. At one end, they +looked upon the white wall of the interior of a spacious skylight shaft, +penetrating the building from top to bottom. +</p> + +<p> +This view might have been considered rather tame than otherwise, deficient in +what landscape painters call “life.” But, if so, the view from the +other end of my chambers offered, at least, a contrast, if nothing more. In +that direction, my windows commanded an unobstructed view of a lofty brick +wall, black by age and everlasting shade; which wall required no spy-glass to +bring out its lurking beauties, but, for the benefit of all near-sighted +spectators, was pushed up to within ten feet of my window panes. Owing to the +great height of the surrounding buildings, and my chambers being on the second +floor, the interval between this wall and mine not a little resembled a huge +square cistern. +</p> + +<p> +At the period just preceding the advent of Bartleby, I had two persons as +copyists in my employment, and a promising lad as an office-boy. First, Turkey; +second, Nippers; third, Ginger Nut. These may seem names, the like of which are +not usually found in the Directory. In truth, they were nicknames, mutually +conferred upon each other by my three clerks, and were deemed expressive of +their respective persons or characters. Turkey was a short, pursy Englishman, +of about my own age—that is, somewhere not far from sixty. In the +morning, one might say, his face was of a fine florid hue, but after twelve +o’clock, meridian—his dinner hour—it blazed like a grate full +of Christmas coals; and continued blazing—but, as it were, with a gradual +wane—till six o’clock, P.M., or thereabouts; after which, I saw no +more of the proprietor of the face, which, gaining its meridian with the sun, +seemed to set with it, to rise, culminate, and decline the following day, with +the like regularity and undiminished glory. There are many singular +coincidences I have known in the course of my life, not the least among which +was the fact, that, exactly when Turkey displayed his fullest beams from his +red and radiant countenance, just then, too, at that critical moment, began the +daily period when I considered his business capacities as seriously disturbed +for the remainder of the twenty-four hours. Not that he was absolutely idle, or +averse to business, then; far from it. The difficulty was, he was apt to be +altogether too energetic. There was a strange, inflamed, flurried, flighty +recklessness of activity about him. He would be incautious in dipping his pen +into his inkstand. All his blots upon my documents were dropped there after +twelve o’clock, meridian. Indeed, not only would he be reckless, and +sadly given to making blots in the afternoon, but, some days, he went further, +and was rather noisy. At such times, too, his face flamed with augmented +blazonry, as if cannel coal had been heaped on anthracite. He made an +unpleasant racket with his chair; spilled his sand-box; in mending his pens, +impatiently split them all to pieces, and threw them on the floor in a sudden +passion; stood up, and leaned over his table, boxing his papers about in a most +indecorous manner, very sad to behold in an elderly man like him. Nevertheless, +as he was in many ways a most valuable person to me, and all the time before +twelve o’clock, meridian, was the quickest, steadiest creature, too, +accomplishing a great deal of work in a style not easily to be +matched—for these reasons, I was willing to overlook his eccentricities, +though, indeed, occasionally, I remonstrated with him. I did this very gently, +however, because, though the civilest, nay, the blandest and most reverential +of men in the morning, yet, in the afternoon, he was disposed, upon +provocation, to be slightly rash with his tongue—in fact, insolent. Now, +valuing his morning services as I did, and resolved not to lose them—yet, +at the same time, made uncomfortable by his inflamed ways after twelve +o’clock—and being a man of peace, unwilling by my admonitions to +call forth unseemly retorts from him, I took upon me, one Saturday noon (he was +always worse on Saturdays) to hint to him, very kindly, that, perhaps, now that +he was growing old, it might be well to abridge his labors; in short, he need +not come to my chambers after twelve o’clock, but, dinner over, had best +go home to his lodgings, and rest himself till tea-time. But no; he insisted +upon his afternoon devotions. His countenance became intolerably fervid, as he +oratorically assured me—gesticulating with a long ruler at the other end +of the room—that if his services in the morning were useful, how +indispensable, then, in the afternoon? +</p> + +<p> +“With submission, sir,” said Turkey, on this occasion, “I +consider myself your right-hand man. In the morning I but marshal and deploy my +columns; but in the afternoon I put myself at their head, and gallantly charge +the foe, thus”—and he made a violent thrust with the ruler. +</p> + +<p> +“But the blots, Turkey,” intimated I. +</p> + +<p> +“True; but, with submission, sir, behold these hairs! I am getting old. +Surely, sir, a blot or two of a warm afternoon is not to be severely urged +against gray hairs. Old age—even if it blot the page—is honorable. +With submission, sir, we <i>both</i> are getting old.” +</p> + +<p> +This appeal to my fellow-feeling was hardly to be resisted. At all events, I +saw that go he would not. So, I made up my mind to let him stay, resolving, +nevertheless, to see to it that, during the afternoon, he had to do with my +less important papers. +</p> + +<p> +Nippers, the second on my list, was a whiskered, sallow, and, upon the whole, +rather piratical-looking young man, of about five and twenty. I always deemed +him the victim of two evil powers—ambition and indigestion. The ambition +was evinced by a certain impatience of the duties of a mere copyist, an +unwarrantable usurpation of strictly professional affairs, such as the original +drawing up of legal documents. The indigestion seemed betokened in an +occasional nervous testiness and grinning irritability, causing the teeth to +audibly grind together over mistakes committed in copying; unnecessary +maledictions, hissed, rather than spoken, in the heat of business; and +especially by a continual discontent with the height of the table where he +worked. Though of a very ingenious mechanical turn, Nippers could never get +this table to suit him. He put chips under it, blocks of various sorts, bits of +pasteboard, and at last went so far as to attempt an exquisite adjustment, by +final pieces of folded blotting-paper. But no invention would answer. If, for +the sake of easing his back, he brought the table lid at a sharp angle well up +towards his chin, and wrote, there like a man using the steep roof of a Dutch +house for his desk, then he declared that it stopped the circulation in his +arms. If now he lowered the table to his waistbands, and stooped over it in +writing, then there was a sore aching in his back. In short, the truth of the +matter was, Nippers knew not what he wanted. Or, if he wanted anything, it was +to be rid of a scrivener’s table altogether. Among the manifestations of +his diseased ambition was a fondness he had for receiving visits from certain +ambiguous-looking fellows in seedy coats, whom he called his clients. Indeed, I +was aware that not only was he, at times, considerable of a ward-politician, +but he occasionally did a little business at the Justices’ courts, and +was not unknown on the steps of the Tombs. I have good reason to believe, +however, that one individual who called upon him at my chambers, and who, with +a grand air, he insisted was his client, was no other than a dun, and the +alleged title-deed, a bill. But, with all his failings, and the annoyances he +caused me, Nippers, like his compatriot Turkey, was a very useful man to me; +wrote a neat, swift hand; and, when he chose, was not deficient in a +gentlemanly sort of deportment. Added to this, he always dressed in a +gentlemanly sort of way; and so, incidentally, reflected credit upon my +chambers. Whereas, with respect to Turkey, I had much ado to keep him from +being a reproach to me. His clothes were apt to look oily, and smell of +eating-houses. He wore his pantaloons very loose and baggy in summer. His coats +were execrable; his hat not to be handled. But while the hat was a thing of +indifference to me, inasmuch as his natural civility and deference, as a +dependent Englishman, always led him to doff it the moment he entered the room, +yet his coat was another matter. Concerning his coats, I reasoned with him; but +with no effect. The truth was, I suppose, that a man with so small an income +could not afford to sport such a lustrous face and a lustrous coat at one and +the same time. As Nippers once observed, Turkey’s money went chiefly for +red ink. One winter day, I presented Turkey with a highly respectable-looking +coat of my own—a padded gray coat, of a most comfortable warmth, and +which buttoned straight up from the knee to the neck. I thought Turkey would +appreciate the favor, and abate his rashness and obstreperousness of +afternoons. But no; I verily believe that buttoning himself up in so downy and +blanket-like a coat had a pernicious effect upon him—upon the same +principle that too much oats are bad for horses. In fact, precisely as a rash, +restive horse is said to feel his oats, so Turkey felt his coat. It made him +insolent. He was a man whom prosperity harmed. +</p> + +<p> +Though, concerning the self-indulgent habits of Turkey, I had my own private +surmises, yet, touching Nippers, I was well persuaded that, whatever might be +his faults in other respects, he was, at least, a temperate young man. But, +indeed, nature herself seemed to have been his vintner, and, at his birth, +charged him so thoroughly with an irritable, brandy-like disposition, that all +subsequent potations were needless. When I consider how, amid the stillness of +my chambers, Nippers would sometimes impatiently rise from his seat, and +stooping over his table, spread his arms wide apart, seize the whole desk, and +move it, and jerk it, with a grim, grinding motion on the floor, as if the +table were a perverse voluntary agent, intent on thwarting and vexing him, I +plainly perceive that, for Nippers, brandy-and-water were altogether +superfluous. +</p> + +<p> +It was fortunate for me that, owing to its peculiar +cause—indigestion—the irritability and consequent nervousness of +Nippers were mainly observable in the morning, while in the afternoon he was +comparatively mild. So that, Turkey’s paroxysms only coming on about +twelve o’clock, I never had to do with their eccentricities at one time. +Their fits relieved each other, like guards. When Nippers’s was on, +Turkey’s was off; and <i>vice versa</i>. This was a good natural +arrangement, under the circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +Ginger Nut, the third on my list, was a lad, some twelve years old. His, father +was a carman, ambitious of seeing his son on the bench instead of a cart, +before he died. So he sent him to my office, as student at law, errand-boy, +cleaner and sweeper, at the rate of one dollar a week. He had a little desk to +himself, but he did not use it much. Upon inspection, the drawer exhibited a +great array of the shells of various sorts of nuts. Indeed, to this +quick-witted youth, the whole noble science of the law was contained in a +nut-shell. Not the least among the employments of Ginger Nut, as well as one +which he discharged with the most alacrity, was his duty as cake and apple +purveyor for Turkey and Nippers. Copying law-papers being proverbially a dry, +husky sort of business, my two scriveners were fain to moisten their mouths +very often with Spitzenbergs, to be had at the numerous stalls nigh the Custom +House and Post Office. Also, they sent Ginger Nut very frequently for that +peculiar cake—small, flat, round, and very spicy—after which he had +been named by them. Of a cold morning, when business was but dull, Turkey would +gobble up scores of these cakes, as if they were mere wafers—indeed, they +sell them at the rate of six or eight for a penny—the scrape of his pen +blending with the crunching of the crisp particles in his mouth. Of all the +fiery afternoon blunders and flurried rashnesses of Turkey, was his once +moistening a ginger-cake between his lips, and clapping it on to a mortgage, +for a seal. I came within an ace of dismissing him then. But he mollified me by +making an oriental bow, and saying— +</p> + +<p> +“With submission, sir, it was generous of me to find you in stationery on +my own account.” +</p> + +<p> +Now my original business—that of a conveyancer and title hunter, and +drawer-up of recondite documents of all sorts—was considerably increased +by receiving the master’s office. There was now great work for +scriveners. Not only must I push the clerks already with me, but I must have +additional help. +</p> + +<p> +In answer to my advertisement, a motionless young man one morning stood upon my +office threshold, the door being open, for it was summer. I can see that figure +now—pallidly neat, pitiably respectable, incurably forlorn! It was +Bartleby. +</p> + +<p> +After a few words touching his qualifications, I engaged him, glad to have +among my corps of copyists a man of so singularly sedate an aspect, which I +thought might operate beneficially upon the flighty temper of Turkey, and the +fiery one of Nippers. +</p> + +<p> +I should have stated before that ground glass folding-doors divided my premises +into two parts, one of which was occupied by my scriveners, the other by +myself. According to my humor, I threw open these doors, or closed them. I +resolved to assign Bartleby a corner by the folding-doors, but on my side of +them, so as to have this quiet man within easy call, in case any trifling thing +was to be done. I placed his desk close up to a small side-window in that part +of the room, a window which originally had afforded a lateral view of certain +grimy backyards and bricks, but which, owing to subsequent erections, commanded +at present no view at all, though it gave some light. Within three feet of the +panes was a wall, and the light came down from far above, between two lofty +buildings, as from a very small opening in a dome. Still further to a +satisfactory arrangement, I procured a high green folding screen, which might +entirely isolate Bartleby from my sight, though not remove him from my voice. +And thus, in a manner, privacy and society were conjoined. +</p> + +<p> +At first, Bartleby did an extraordinary quantity of writing. As if long +famishing for something to copy, he seemed to gorge himself on my documents. +There was no pause for digestion. He ran a day and night line, copying by +sun-light and by candle-light. I should have been quite delighted with his +application, had he been cheerfully industrious. But he wrote on silently, +palely, mechanically. +</p> + +<p> +It is, of course, an indispensable part of a scrivener’s business to +verify the accuracy of his copy, word by word. Where there are two or more +scriveners in an office, they assist each other in this examination, one +reading from the copy, the other holding the original. It is a very dull, +wearisome, and lethargic affair. I can readily imagine that, to some sanguine +temperaments, it would be altogether intolerable. For example, I cannot credit +that the mettlesome poet, Byron, would have contentedly sat down with Bartleby +to examine a law document of, say five hundred pages, closely written in a +crimpy hand. +</p> + +<p> +Now and then, in the haste of business, it had been my habit to assist in +comparing some brief document myself, calling Turkey or Nippers for this +purpose. One object I had, in placing Bartleby so handy to me behind the +screen, was, to avail myself of his services on such trivial occasions. It was +on the third day, I think, of his being with me, and before any necessity had +arisen for having his own writing examined, that, being much hurried to +complete a small affair I had in hand, I abruptly called to Bartleby. In my +haste and natural expectancy of instant compliance, I sat with my head bent +over the original on my desk, and my right hand sideways, and somewhat +nervously extended with the copy, so that, immediately upon emerging from his +retreat, Bartleby might snatch it and proceed to business without the least +delay. +</p> + +<p> +In this very attitude did I sit when I called to him, rapidly stating what it +was I wanted him to do—namely, to examine a small paper with me. Imagine +my surprise, nay, my consternation, when, without moving from his privacy, +Bartleby, in a singularly mild, firm voice, replied, “I would prefer not +to.” +</p> + +<p> +I sat awhile in perfect silence, rallying my stunned faculties. Immediately it +occurred to me that my ears had deceived me, or Bartleby had entirely +misunderstood my meaning. I repeated my request in the clearest tone I could +assume; but in quite as clear a one came the previous reply, “I would +prefer not to.” +</p> + +<p> +“Prefer not to,” echoed I, rising in high excitement, and crossing +the room with a stride. “What do you mean? Are you moon-struck? I want +you to help me compare this sheet here—take it,” and I thrust it +towards him. +</p> + +<p> +“I would prefer not to,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +I looked at him steadfastly. His face was leanly composed; his gray eye dimly +calm. Not a wrinkle of agitation rippled him. Had there been the least +uneasiness, anger, impatience or impertinence in his manner; in other words, +had there been any thing ordinarily human about him, doubtless I should have +violently dismissed him from the premises. But as it was, I should have as soon +thought of turning my pale plaster-of-paris bust of Cicero out of doors. I +stood gazing at him awhile, as he went on with his own writing, and then +reseated myself at my desk. This is very strange, thought I. What had one best +do? But my business hurried me. I concluded to forget the matter for the +present, reserving it for my future leisure. So calling Nippers from the other +room, the paper was speedily examined. +</p> + +<p> +A few days after this, Bartleby concluded four lengthy documents, being +quadruplicates of a week’s testimony taken before me in my High Court of +Chancery. It became necessary to examine them. It was an important suit, and +great accuracy was imperative. Having all things arranged, I called Turkey, +Nippers and Ginger Nut, from the next room, meaning to place the four copies in +the hands of my four clerks, while I should read from the original. +Accordingly, Turkey, Nippers, and Ginger Nut had taken their seats in a row, +each with his document in his hand, when I called to Bartleby to join this +interesting group. +</p> + +<p> +“Bartleby! quick, I am waiting.” +</p> + +<p> +I heard a slow scrape of his chair legs on the uncarpeted floor, and soon he +appeared standing at the entrance of his hermitage. +</p> + +<p> +“What is wanted?” said he, mildly. +</p> + +<p> +“The copies, the copies,” said I, hurriedly. “We are going to +examine them. There”—and I held towards him the fourth +quadruplicate. +</p> + +<p> +“I would prefer not to,” he said, and gently disappeared behind the +screen. +</p> + +<p> +For a few moments I was turned into a pillar of salt, standing at the head of +my seated column of clerks. Recovering myself, I advanced towards the screen, +and demanded the reason for such extraordinary conduct. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Why</i> do you refuse?” +</p> + +<p> +“I would prefer not to.” +</p> + +<p> +With any other man I should have flown outright into a dreadful passion, +scorned all further words, and thrust him ignominiously from my presence. But +there was something about Bartleby that not only strangely disarmed me, but, in +a wonderful manner, touched and disconcerted me. I began to reason with him. +</p> + +<p> +“These are your own copies we are about to examine. It is labor saving to +you, because one examination will answer for your four papers. It is common +usage. Every copyist is bound to help examine his copy. Is it not so? Will you +not speak? Answer!” +</p> + +<p> +“I prefer not to,” he replied in a flutelike tone. It seemed to me +that, while I had been addressing him, he carefully revolved every statement +that I made; fully comprehended the meaning; could not gainsay the irresistible +conclusion; but, at the same time, some paramount consideration prevailed with +him to reply as he did. +</p> + +<p> +“You are decided, then, not to comply with my request—a request +made according to common usage and common sense?” +</p> + +<p> +He briefly gave me to understand, that on that point my judgment was sound. +Yes: his decision was irreversible. +</p> + +<p> +It is not seldom the case that, when a man is browbeaten in some unprecedented +and violently unreasonable way, he begins to stagger in his own plainest faith. +He begins, as it were, vaguely to surmise that, wonderful as it may be, all the +justice and all the reason is on the other side. Accordingly, if any +disinterested persons are present, he turns to them for some reinforcement for +his own faltering mind. +</p> + +<p> +“Turkey,” said I, “what do you think of this? Am I not +right?” +</p> + +<p> +“With submission, sir,” said Turkey, in his blandest tone, “I +think that you are.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nippers,” said I, “what do <i>you</i> think of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think I should kick him out of the office.” +</p> + +<p> +(The reader, of nice perceptions, will here perceive that, it being morning, +Turkey’s answer is couched in polite and tranquil terms, but Nippers +replies in ill-tempered ones. Or, to repeat a previous sentence, +Nippers’s ugly mood was on duty, and Turkey’s off.) +</p> + +<p> +“Ginger Nut,” said I, willing to enlist the smallest suffrage in my +behalf, “what do <i>you</i> think of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think, sir, he’s a little <i>luny</i>,” replied Ginger +Nut, with a grin. +</p> + +<p> +“You hear what they say,” said I, turning towards the screen, +“come forth and do your duty.” +</p> + +<p> +But he vouchsafed no reply. I pondered a moment in sore perplexity. But once +more business hurried me. I determined again to postpone the consideration of +this dilemma to my future leisure. With a little trouble we made out to examine +the papers without Bartleby, though at every page or two Turkey deferentially +dropped his opinion, that this proceeding was quite out of the common; while +Nippers, twitching in his chair with a dyspeptic nervousness, ground out, +between his set teeth, occasional hissing maledictions against the stubborn oaf +behind the screen. And for his (Nippers’s) part, this was the first and +the last time he would do another man’s business without pay. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Bartleby sat in his hermitage, oblivious to everything but his own +peculiar business there. +</p> + +<p> +Some days passed, the scrivener being employed upon another lengthy work. His +late remarkable conduct led me to regard his ways narrowly. I observed that he +never went to dinner; indeed, that he never went anywhere. As yet I had never, +of my personal knowledge, known him to be outside of my office. He was a +perpetual sentry in the corner. At about eleven o’clock though, in the +morning, I noticed that Ginger Nut would advance toward the opening in +Bartleby’s screen, as if silently beckoned thither by a gesture invisible +to me where I sat. The boy would then leave the office, jingling a few pence, +and reappear with a handful of ginger-nuts, which he delivered in the +hermitage, receiving two of the cakes for his trouble. +</p> + +<p> +He lives, then, on ginger-nuts, thought I; never eats a dinner, properly +speaking; he must be a vegetarian, then; but no; he never eats even vegetables, +he eats nothing but ginger-nuts. My mind then ran on in reveries concerning the +probable effects upon the human constitution of living entirely on ginger-nuts. +Ginger-nuts are so called, because they contain ginger as one of their peculiar +constituents, and the final flavoring one. Now, what was ginger? A hot, spicy +thing. Was Bartleby hot and spicy? Not at all. Ginger, then, had no effect upon +Bartleby. Probably, he preferred it should have none. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing so aggravates an earnest person as a passive resistance. If the +individual so resisted be of a not inhumane temper, and the resisting one +perfectly harmless in his passivity, then, in the better moods of the former, +he will endeavor charitably to construe to his imagination what proves +impossible to be solved by his judgment. Even so, for the most part, I regarded +Bartleby and his ways. Poor fellow! thought I, he means no mischief; it is +plain he intends no insolence; his aspect sufficiently evinces that his +eccentricities are involuntary. He is useful to me. I can get along with him. +If I turn him away, the chances are he will fall in with some less-indulgent +employer, and then he will be rudely treated, and perhaps driven forth +miserably to starve. Yes. Here I can cheaply purchase a delicious +self-approval. To befriend Bartleby; to humor him in his strange willfulness, +will cost me little or nothing, while I lay up in my soul what will eventually +prove a sweet morsel for my conscience. But this mood was not invariable, with +me. The passiveness of Bartleby sometimes irritated me. I felt strangely goaded +on to encounter him in new opposition—to elicit some angry spark from him +answerable to my own. But, indeed, I might as well have essayed to strike fire +with my knuckles against a bit of Windsor soap. But one afternoon the evil +impulse in me mastered me, and the following little scene ensued: +</p> + +<p> +“Bartleby,” said I, “when those papers are all copied, I will +compare them with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I would prefer not to.” +</p> + +<p> +“How? Surely you do not mean to persist in that mulish vagary?” +</p> + +<p> +No answer. +</p> + +<p> +I threw open the folding-doors near by, and, turning upon Turkey and Nippers, +exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“Bartleby a second time says, he won’t examine his papers. What do +you think of it, Turkey?” +</p> + +<p> +It was afternoon, be it remembered. Turkey sat glowing like a brass boiler; his +bald head steaming; his hands reeling among his blotted papers. +</p> + +<p> +“Think of it?” roared Turkey; “I think I’ll just step +behind his screen, and black his eyes for him!” +</p> + +<p> +So saying, Turkey rose to his feet and threw his arms into a pugilistic +position. He was hurrying away to make good his promise, when I detained him, +alarmed at the effect of incautiously rousing Turkey’s combativeness +after dinner. +</p> + +<p> +“Sit down, Turkey,” said I, “and hear what Nippers has to +say. What do you think of it, Nippers? Would I not be justified in immediately +dismissing Bartleby?” +</p> + +<p> +“Excuse me, that is for you to decide, sir. I think his conduct quite +unusual, and, indeed, unjust, as regards Turkey and myself. But it may only be +a passing whim.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” exclaimed I, “you have strangely changed your mind, +then—you speak very gently of him now.” +</p> + +<p> +“All beer,” cried Turkey; “gentleness is effects of +beer—Nippers and I dined together to-day. You see how gentle <i>I</i> am, +sir. Shall I go and black his eyes?” +</p> + +<p> +“You refer to Bartleby, I suppose. No, not to-day, Turkey,” I +replied; “pray, put up your fists.” +</p> + +<p> +I closed the doors, and again advanced towards Bartleby. I felt additional +incentives tempting me to my fate. I burned to be rebelled against again. I +remembered that Bartleby never left the office. +</p> + +<p> +“Bartleby,” said I, “Ginger Nut is away; just step around to +the Post Office, won’t you? (it was but a three minutes’ walk), and +see if there is anything for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I would prefer not to.” +</p> + +<p> +“You <i>will</i> not?” +</p> + +<p> +“I <i>prefer</i> not.” +</p> + +<p> +I staggered to my desk, and sat there in a deep study. My blind inveteracy +returned. Was there any other thing in which I could procure myself to be +ignominiously repulsed by this lean, penniless wight?—my hired clerk? +What added thing is there, perfectly reasonable, that he will be sure to refuse +to do? +</p> + +<p> +“Bartleby!” +</p> + +<p> +No answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Bartleby,” in a louder tone. +</p> + +<p> +No answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Bartleby,” I roared. +</p> + +<p> +Like a very ghost, agreeably to the laws of magical invocation, at the third +summons, he appeared at the entrance of his hermitage. +</p> + +<p> +“Go to the next room, and tell Nippers to come to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I prefer not to,” he respectfully and slowly said, and mildly +disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +“Very good, Bartleby,” said I, in a quiet sort of serenely-severe +self-possessed tone, intimating the unalterable purpose of some terrible +retribution very close at hand. At the moment I half intended something of the +kind. But upon the whole, as it was drawing towards my dinner-hour, I thought +it best to put on my hat and walk home for the day, suffering much from +perplexity and distress of mind. +</p> + +<p> +Shall I acknowledge it? The conclusion of this whole business was, that it soon +became a fixed fact of my chambers, that a pale young scrivener, by the name of +Bartleby, had a desk there; that he copied for me at the usual rate of four +cents a folio (one hundred words); but he was permanently exempt from examining +the work done by him, that duty being transferred to Turkey and Nippers, out of +compliment, doubtless, to their superior acuteness; moreover, said Bartleby was +never, on any account, to be dispatched on the most trivial errand of any sort; +and that even if entreated to take upon him such a matter, it was generally +understood that he would “prefer not to”—in other words, that +he would refuse point-blank. +</p> + +<p> +As days passed on, I became considerably reconciled to Bartleby. His +steadiness, his freedom from all dissipation, his incessant industry (except +when he chose to throw himself into a standing revery behind his screen), his +great stillness, his unalterableness of demeanor under all circumstances, made +him a valuable acquisition. One prime thing was this—<i>he was always +there</i>—first in the morning, continually through the day, and the last +at night. I had a singular confidence in his honesty. I felt my most precious +papers perfectly safe in his hands. Sometimes, to be sure, I could not, for the +very soul of me, avoid falling into sudden spasmodic passions with him. For it +was exceeding difficult to bear in mind all the time those strange +peculiarities, privileges, and unheard of exemptions, forming the tacit +stipulations on Bartleby’s part under which he remained in my office. Now +and then, in the eagerness of dispatching pressing business, I would +inadvertently summon Bartleby, in a short, rapid tone, to put his finger, say, +on the incipient tie of a bit of red tape with which I was about compressing +some papers. Of course, from behind the screen the usual answer, “I +prefer not to,” was sure to come; and then, how could a human creature, +with the common infirmities of our nature, refrain from bitterly exclaiming +upon such perverseness—such unreasonableness. However, every added +repulse of this sort which I received only tended to lessen the probability of +my repeating the inadvertence. +</p> + +<p> +Here it must be said, that according to the custom of most legal gentlemen +occupying chambers in densely-populated law buildings, there were several keys +to my door. One was kept by a woman residing in the attic, which person weekly +scrubbed and daily swept and dusted my apartments. Another was kept by Turkey +for convenience sake. The third I sometimes carried in my own pocket. The +fourth I knew not who had. +</p> + +<p> +Now, one Sunday morning I happened to go to Trinity Church, to hear a +celebrated preacher, and finding myself rather early on the ground I thought I +would walk round to my chambers for a while. Luckily I had my key with me; but +upon applying it to the lock, I found it resisted by something inserted from +the inside. Quite surprised, I called out; when to my consternation a key was +turned from within; and thrusting his lean visage at me, and holding the door +ajar, the apparition of Bartleby appeared, in his shirt sleeves, and otherwise +in a strangely tattered deshabille, saying quietly that he was sorry, but he +was deeply engaged just then, and—preferred not admitting me at present. +In a brief word or two, he moreover added, that perhaps I had better walk round +the block two or three times, and by that time he would probably have concluded +his affairs. +</p> + +<p> +Now, the utterly unsurmised appearance of Bartleby, tenanting my law-chambers +of a Sunday morning, with his cadaverously gentlemanly <i>nonchalance</i>, yet +withal firm and self-possessed, had such a strange effect upon me, that +incontinently I slunk away from my own door, and did as desired. But not +without sundry twinges of impotent rebellion against the mild effrontery of +this unaccountable scrivener. Indeed, it was his wonderful mildness chiefly, +which not only disarmed me, but unmanned me as it were. For I consider that +one, for the time, is a sort of unmanned when he tranquilly permits his hired +clerk to dictate to him, and order him away from his own premises. Furthermore, +I was full of uneasiness as to what Bartleby could possibly be doing in my +office in his shirt sleeves, and in an otherwise dismantled condition of a +Sunday morning. Was anything amiss going on? Nay, that was out of the question. +It was not to be thought of for a moment that Bartleby was an immoral person. +But what could he be doing there?—copying? Nay again, whatever might be +his eccentricities, Bartleby was an eminently decorous person. He would be the +last man to sit down to his desk in any state approaching to nudity. Besides, +it was Sunday; and there was something about Bartleby that forbade the +supposition that he would by any secular occupation violate the proprieties of +the day. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, my mind was not pacified; and full of a restless curiosity, at +last I returned to the door. Without hindrance I inserted my key, opened it, +and entered. Bartleby was not to be seen. I looked round anxiously, peeped +behind his screen; but it was very plain that he was gone. Upon more closely +examining the place, I surmised that for an indefinite period Bartleby must +have ate, dressed, and slept in my office, and that, too without plate, mirror, +or bed. The cushioned seat of a ricketty old sofa in one corner bore the faint +impress of a lean, reclining form. Rolled away under his desk, I found a +blanket; under the empty grate, a blacking box and brush; on a chair, a tin +basin, with soap and a ragged towel; in a newspaper a few crumbs of ginger-nuts +and a morsel of cheese. Yes, thought I, it is evident enough that Bartleby has +been making his home here, keeping bachelor’s hall all by himself. +Immediately then the thought came sweeping across me, what miserable +friendlessness and loneliness are here revealed! His poverty is great; but his +solitude, how horrible! Think of it. Of a Sunday, Wall-street is deserted as +Petra; and every night of every day it is an emptiness. This building, too, +which of week-days hums with industry and life, at nightfall echoes with sheer +vacancy, and all through Sunday is forlorn. And here Bartleby makes his home; +sole spectator, of a solitude which he has seen all populous—a sort of +innocent and transformed Marius brooding among the ruins of Carthage! +</p> + +<p> +For the first time in my life a feeling of overpowering stinging melancholy +seized me. Before, I had never experienced aught but a not unpleasing sadness. +The bond of a common humanity now drew me irresistibly to gloom. A fraternal +melancholy! For both I and Bartleby were sons of Adam. I remembered the bright +silks and sparkling faces I had seen that day, in gala trim, swan-like sailing +down the Mississippi of Broadway; and I contrasted them with the pallid +copyist, and thought to myself, Ah, happiness courts the light, so we deem the +world is gay; but misery hides aloof, so we deem that misery there is none. +These sad fancyings—chimeras, doubtless, of a sick and silly +brain—led on to other and more special thoughts, concerning the +eccentricities of Bartleby. Presentiments of strange discoveries hovered round +me. The scriveners pale form appeared to me laid out, among uncaring strangers, +in its shivering winding sheet. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly I was attracted by Bartleby’s closed desk, the key in open sight +left in the lock. +</p> + +<p> +I mean no mischief, seek the gratification of no heartless curiosity, thought +I; besides, the desk is mine, and its contents, too, so I will make bold to +look within. Everything was methodically arranged, the papers smoothly placed. +The pigeon holes were deep, and removing the files of documents, I groped into +their recesses. Presently I felt something there, and dragged it out. It was an +old bandanna handkerchief, heavy and knotted. I opened it, and saw it was a +savings’ bank. +</p> + +<p> +I now recalled all the quiet mysteries which I had noted in the man. I +remembered that he never spoke but to answer; that, though at intervals he had +considerable time to himself, yet I had never seen him reading—no, not +even a newspaper; that for long periods he would stand looking out, at his pale +window behind the screen, upon the dead brick wall; I was quite sure he never +visited any refectory or eating house; while his pale face clearly indicated +that he never drank beer like Turkey, or tea and coffee even, like other men; +that he never went anywhere in particular that I could learn; never went out +for a walk, unless, indeed, that was the case at present; that he had declined +telling who he was, or whence he came, or whether he had any relatives in the +world; that though so thin and pale, he never complained of ill health. And +more than all, I remembered a certain unconscious air of pallid—how shall +I call it?—of pallid haughtiness, say, or rather an austere reserve about +him, which had positively awed me into my tame compliance with his +eccentricities, when I had feared to ask him to do the slightest incidental +thing for me, even though I might know, from his long-continued motionlessness, +that behind his screen he must be standing in one of those dead-wall reveries +of his. +</p> + +<p> +Revolving all these things, and coupling them with the recently discovered +fact, that he made my office his constant abiding place and home, and not +forgetful of his morbid moodiness; revolving all these things, a prudential +feeling began to steal over me. My first emotions had been those of pure +melancholy and sincerest pity; but just in proportion as the forlornness of +Bartleby grew and grew to my imagination, did that same melancholy merge into +fear, that pity into repulsion. So true it is, and so terrible, too, that up to +a certain point the thought or sight of misery enlists our best affections; +but, in certain special cases, beyond that point it does not. They err who +would assert that invariably this is owing to the inherent selfishness of the +human heart. It rather proceeds from a certain hopelessness of remedying +excessive and organic ill. To a sensitive being, pity is not seldom pain. And +when at last it is perceived that such pity cannot lead to effectual succor, +common sense bids the soul be rid of it. What I saw that morning persuaded me +that the scrivener was the victim of innate and incurable disorder. I might +give alms to his body; but his body did not pain him; it was his soul that +suffered, and his soul I could not reach. +</p> + +<p> +I did not accomplish the purpose of going to Trinity Church that morning. +Somehow, the things I had seen disqualified me for the time from church-going. +I walked homeward, thinking what I would do with Bartleby. Finally, I resolved +upon this—I would put certain calm questions to him the next morning, +touching his history, etc., and if he declined to answer them openly and +unreservedly (and I supposed he would prefer not), then to give him a twenty +dollar bill over and above whatever I might owe him, and tell him his services +were no longer required; but that if in any other way I could assist him, I +would be happy to do so, especially if he desired to return to his native +place, wherever that might be, I would willingly help to defray the expenses. +Moreover, if, after reaching home, he found himself at any time in want of aid, +a letter from him would be sure of a reply. +</p> + +<p> +The next morning came. +</p> + +<p> +“Bartleby,” said I, gently calling to him behind his screen. +</p> + +<p> +No reply. +</p> + +<p> +“Bartleby,” said I, in a still gentler tone, “come here; I am +not going to ask you to do anything you would prefer not to do—I simply +wish to speak to you.” +</p> + +<p> +Upon this he noiselessly slid into view. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you tell me, Bartleby, where you were born?” +</p> + +<p> +“I would prefer not to.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you tell me <i>anything</i> about yourself?” +</p> + +<p> +“I would prefer not to.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what reasonable objection can you have to speak to me? I feel +friendly towards you.” +</p> + +<p> +He did not look at me while I spoke, but kept his glance fixed upon my bust of +Cicero, which, as I then sat, was directly behind me, some six inches above my +head. +</p> + +<p> +“What is your answer, Bartleby,” said I, after waiting a +considerable time for a reply, during which his countenance remained immovable, +only there was the faintest conceivable tremor of the white attenuated mouth. +</p> + +<p> +“At present I prefer to give no answer,” he said, and retired into +his hermitage. +</p> + +<p> +It was rather weak in me I confess, but his manner, on this occasion, nettled +me. Not only did there seem to lurk in it a certain calm disdain, but his +perverseness seemed ungrateful, considering the undeniable good usage and +indulgence he had received from me. +</p> + +<p> +Again I sat ruminating what I should do. Mortified as I was at his behavior, +and resolved as I had been to dismiss him when I entered my office, +nevertheless I strangely felt something superstitious knocking at my heart, and +forbidding me to carry out my purpose, and denouncing me for a villain if I +dared to breathe one bitter word against this forlornest of mankind. At last, +familiarly drawing my chair behind his screen, I sat down and said: +“Bartleby, never mind, then, about revealing your history; but let me +entreat you, as a friend, to comply as far as may be with the usages of this +office. Say now, you will help to examine papers to-morrow or next day: in +short, say now, that in a day or two you will begin to be a little +reasonable:—say so, Bartleby.” +</p> + +<p> +“At present I would prefer not to be a little reasonable,” was his +mildly cadaverous reply. +</p> + +<p> +Just then the folding-doors opened, and Nippers approached. He seemed suffering +from an unusually bad night’s rest, induced by severer indigestion than +common. He overheard those final words of Bartleby. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Prefer not</i>, eh?” gritted Nippers—“I’d +<i>prefer</i> him, if I were you, sir,” addressing +me—“I’d <i>prefer</i> him; I’d give him preferences, +the stubborn mule! What is it, sir, pray, that he <i>prefers</i> not to do +now?” +</p> + +<p> +Bartleby moved not a limb. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Nippers,” said I, “I’d prefer that you would +withdraw for the present.” +</p> + +<p> +Somehow, of late, I had got into the way of involuntarily using this word +“prefer” upon all sorts of not exactly suitable occasions. And I +trembled to think that my contact with the scrivener had already and seriously +affected me in a mental way. And what further and deeper aberration might it +not yet produce? This apprehension had not been without efficacy in determining +me to summary measures. +</p> + +<p> +As Nippers, looking very sour and sulky, was departing, Turkey blandly and +deferentially approached. +</p> + +<p> +“With submission, sir,” said he, “yesterday I was thinking +about Bartleby here, and I think that if he would but prefer to take a quart of +good ale every day, it would do much towards mending him, and enabling him to +assist in examining his papers.” +</p> + +<p> +“So you have got the word, too,” said I, slightly excited. +</p> + +<p> +“With submission, what word, sir,” asked Turkey, respectfully +crowding himself into the contracted space behind the screen, and by so doing, +making me jostle the scrivener. “What word, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“I would prefer to be left alone here,” said Bartleby, as if +offended at being mobbed in his privacy. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>That’s</i> the word, Turkey,” said +I—“<i>that’s</i> it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, <i>prefer</i>? oh yes—queer word. I never use it myself. But, +sir, as I was saying, if he would but prefer—” +</p> + +<p> +“Turkey,” interrupted I, “you will please withdraw.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh certainly, sir, if you prefer that I should.” +</p> + +<p> +As he opened the folding-door to retire, Nippers at his desk caught a glimpse +of me, and asked whether I would prefer to have a certain paper copied on blue +paper or white. He did not in the least roguishly accent the word prefer. It +was plain that it involuntarily rolled from his tongue. I thought to myself, +surely I must get rid of a demented man, who already has in some degree turned +the tongues, if not the heads of myself and clerks. But I thought it prudent +not to break the dismission at once. +</p> + +<p> +The next day I noticed that Bartleby did nothing but stand at his window in his +dead-wall revery. Upon asking him why he did not write, he said that he had +decided upon doing no more writing. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, how now? what next?” exclaimed I, “do no more +writing?” +</p> + +<p> +“No more.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what is the reason?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you not see the reason for yourself,” he indifferently replied. +</p> + +<p> +I looked steadfastly at him, and perceived that his eyes looked dull and +glazed. Instantly it occurred to me, that his unexampled diligence in copying +by his dim window for the first few weeks of his stay with me might have +temporarily impared his vision. +</p> + +<p> +I was touched. I said something in condolence with him. I hinted that of course +he did wisely in abstaining from writing for a while; and urged him to embrace +that opportunity of taking wholesome exercise in the open air. This, however, +he did not do. A few days after this, my other clerks being absent, and being +in a great hurry to dispatch certain letters by the mail, I thought that, +having nothing else earthly to do, Bartleby would surely be less inflexible +than usual, and carry these letters to the post-office. But he blankly +declined. So, much to my inconvenience, I went myself. +</p> + +<p> +Still added days went by. Whether Bartleby’s eyes improved or not, I +could not say. To all appearance, I thought they did. But when I asked him if +they did, he vouchsafed no answer. At all events, he would do no copying. At +last, in reply to my urgings, he informed me that he had permanently given up +copying. +</p> + +<p> +“What!” exclaimed I; “suppose your eyes should get entirely +well—better than ever before—would you not copy then?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have given up copying,” he answered, and slid aside. +</p> + +<p> +He remained as ever, a fixture in my chamber. Nay—if that were +possible—he became still more of a fixture than before. What was to be +done? He would do nothing in the office; why should he stay there? In plain +fact, he had now become a millstone to me, not only useless as a necklace, but +afflictive to bear. Yet I was sorry for him. I speak less than truth when I say +that, on his own account, he occasioned me uneasiness. If he would but have +named a single relative or friend, I would instantly have written, and urged +their taking the poor fellow away to some convenient retreat. But he seemed +alone, absolutely alone in the universe. A bit of wreck in the mid Atlantic. At +length, necessities connected with my business tyrannized over all other +considerations. Decently as I could, I told Bartleby that in six days time he +must unconditionally leave the office. I warned him to take measures, in the +interval, for procuring some other abode. I offered to assist him in this +endeavor, if he himself would but take the first step towards a removal. +“And when you finally quit me, Bartleby,” added I, “I shall +see that you go not away entirely unprovided. Six days from this hour, +remember.” +</p> + +<p> +At the expiration of that period, I peeped behind the screen, and lo! Bartleby +was there. +</p> + +<p> +I buttoned up my coat, balanced myself; advanced slowly towards him, touched +his shoulder, and said, “The time has come; you must quit this place; I +am sorry for you; here is money; but you must go.” +</p> + +<p> +“I would prefer not,” he replied, with his back still towards me. +</p> + +<p> +“You <i>must</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +He remained silent. +</p> + +<p> +Now I had an unbounded confidence in this man’s common honesty. He had +frequently restored to me sixpences and shillings carelessly dropped upon the +floor, for I am apt to be very reckless in such shirt-button affairs. The +proceeding, then, which followed will not be deemed extraordinary. +</p> + +<p> +“Bartleby,” said I, “I owe you twelve dollars on account; +here are thirty-two; the odd twenty are yours—Will you take it?” +and I handed the bills towards him. +</p> + +<p> +But he made no motion. +</p> + +<p> +“I will leave them here, then,” putting them under a weight on the +table. Then taking my hat and cane and going to the door, I tranquilly turned +and added—“After you have removed your things from these offices, +Bartleby, you will of course lock the door—since every one is now gone +for the day but you—and if you please, slip your key underneath the mat, +so that I may have it in the morning. I shall not see you again; so good-by to +you. If, hereafter, in your new place of abode, I can be of any service to you, +do not fail to advise me by letter. Good-by, Bartleby, and fare you +well.” +</p> + +<p> +But he answered not a word; like the last column of some ruined temple, he +remained standing mute and solitary in the middle of the otherwise deserted +room. +</p> + +<p> +As I walked home in a pensive mood, my vanity got the better of my pity. I +could not but highly plume myself on my masterly management in getting rid of +Bartleby. Masterly I call it, and such it must appear to any dispassionate +thinker. The beauty of my procedure seemed to consist in its perfect quietness. +There was no vulgar bullying, no bravado of any sort, no choleric hectoring, +and striding to and fro across the apartment, jerking out vehement commands for +Bartleby to bundle himself off with his beggarly traps. Nothing of the kind. +Without loudly bidding Bartleby depart—as an inferior genius might have +done—I <i>assumed</i> the ground that depart he must; and upon that +assumption built all I had to say. The more I thought over my procedure, the +more I was charmed with it. Nevertheless, next morning, upon awakening, I had +my doubts—I had somehow slept off the fumes of vanity. One of the coolest +and wisest hours a man has, is just after he awakes in the morning. My +procedure seemed as sagacious as ever—but only in theory. How it would +prove in practice—there was the rub. It was truly a beautiful thought to +have assumed Bartleby’s departure; but, after all, that assumption was +simply my own, and none of Bartleby’s. The great point was, not whether I +had assumed that he would quit me, but whether he would prefer so to do. He was +more a man of preferences than assumptions. +</p> + +<p> +After breakfast, I walked down town, arguing the probabilities <i>pro</i> and +<i>con</i>. One moment I thought it would prove a miserable failure, and +Bartleby would be found all alive at my office as usual; the next moment it +seemed certain that I should find his chair empty. And so I kept veering about. +At the corner of Broadway and Canal street, I saw quite an excited group of +people standing in earnest conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll take odds he doesn’t,” said a voice as I passed. +</p> + +<p> +“Doesn’t go?—done!” said I, “put up your +money.” +</p> + +<p> +I was instinctively putting my hand in my pocket to produce my own, when I +remembered that this was an election day. The words I had overheard bore no +reference to Bartleby, but to the success or non-success of some candidate for +the mayoralty. In my intent frame of mind, I had, as it were, imagined that all +Broadway shared in my excitement, and were debating the same question with me. +I passed on, very thankful that the uproar of the street screened my momentary +absent-mindedness. +</p> + +<p> +As I had intended, I was earlier than usual at my office door. I stood +listening for a moment. All was still. He must be gone. I tried the knob. The +door was locked. Yes, my procedure had worked to a charm; he indeed must be +vanished. Yet a certain melancholy mixed with this: I was almost sorry for my +brilliant success. I was fumbling under the door mat for the key, which +Bartleby was to have left there for me, when accidentally my knee knocked +against a panel, producing a summoning sound, and in response a voice came to +me from within—“Not yet; I am occupied.” +</p> + +<p> +It was Bartleby. +</p> + +<p> +I was thunderstruck. For an instant I stood like the man who, pipe in mouth, +was killed one cloudless afternoon long ago in Virginia, by summer lightning; +at his own warm open window he was killed, and remained leaning out there upon +the dreamy afternoon till some one touched him, when he fell. +</p> + +<p> +“Not gone!” I murmured at last. But again obeying that wondrous +ascendancy which the inscrutable scrivener had over me, and from which +ascendancy, for all my chafing, I could not completely escape, I slowly went +down stairs and out into the street, and while walking round the block, +considered what I should next do in this unheard-of perplexity. Turn the man +out by an actual thrusting I could not; to drive him away by calling him hard +names would not do; calling in the police was an unpleasant idea; and yet, +permit him to enjoy his cadaverous triumph over me—this, too, I could not +think of. What was to be done? or, if nothing could be done, was there anything +further that I could <i>assume</i> in the matter? Yes, as before I had +prospectively assumed that Bartleby would depart, so now I might +retrospectively assume that departed he was. In the legitimate carrying out of +this assumption, I might enter my office in a great hurry, and pretending not +to see Bartleby at all, walk straight against him as if he were air. Such a +proceeding would in a singular degree have the appearance of a home-thrust. It +was hardly possible that Bartleby could withstand such an application of the +doctrine of assumptions. But upon second thoughts the success of the plan +seemed rather dubious. I resolved to argue the matter over with him again. +</p> + +<p> +“Bartleby,” said I, entering the office, with a quietly severe +expression, “I am seriously displeased. I am pained, Bartleby. I had +thought better of you. I had imagined you of such a gentlemanly organization, +that in any delicate dilemma a slight hint would suffice—in short, an +assumption. But it appears I am deceived. Why,” I added, unaffectedly +starting, “you have not even touched that money yet,” pointing to +it, just where I had left it the evening previous. +</p> + +<p> +He answered nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you, or will you not, quit me?” I now demanded in a sudden +passion, advancing close to him. +</p> + +<p> +“I would prefer <i>not</i> to quit you,” he replied gently +emphasizing the <i>not</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“What earthly right have you to stay here? Do you pay any rent? Do you +pay my taxes? Or is this property yours?” +</p> + +<p> +He answered nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you ready to go on and write now? Are your eyes recovered? Could you +copy a small paper for me this morning? or help examine a few lines? or step +round to the post-office? In a word, will you do anything at all, to give a +coloring to your refusal to depart the premises?” +</p> + +<p> +He silently retired into his hermitage. +</p> + +<p> +I was now in such a state of nervous resentment that I thought it but prudent +to check myself at present from further demonstrations. Bartleby and I were +alone. I remembered the tragedy of the unfortunate Adams and the still more +unfortunate Colt in the solitary office of the latter; and how poor Colt, being +dreadfully incensed by Adams, and imprudently permitting himself to get wildly +excited, was at unawares hurried into his fatal act—an act which +certainly no man could possibly deplore more than the actor himself. Often it +had occurred to me in my ponderings upon the subject, that had that altercation +taken place in the public street, or at a private residence, it would not have +terminated as it did. It was the circumstance of being alone in a solitary +office, up stairs, of a building entirely unhallowed by humanizing domestic +associations—an uncarpeted office, doubtless, of a dusty, haggard sort of +appearance—this it must have been, which greatly helped to enhance the +irritable desperation of the hapless Colt. +</p> + +<p> +But when this old Adam of resentment rose in me and tempted me concerning +Bartleby, I grappled him and threw him. How? Why, simply by recalling the +divine injunction: “A new commandment give I unto you, that ye love one +another.” Yes, this it was that saved me. Aside from higher +considerations, charity often operates as a vastly wise and prudent +principle—a great safeguard to its possessor. Men have committed murder +for jealousy’s sake, and anger’s sake, and hatred’s sake, and +selfishness’ sake, and spiritual pride’s sake; but no man, that +ever I heard of, ever committed a diabolical murder for sweet charity’s +sake. Mere self-interest, then, if no better motive can be enlisted, should, +especially with high-tempered men, prompt all beings to charity and +philanthropy. At any rate, upon the occasion in question, I strove to drown my +exasperated feelings towards the scrivener by benevolently construing his +conduct.—Poor fellow, poor fellow! thought I, he don’t mean +anything; and besides, he has seen hard times, and ought to be indulged. +</p> + +<p> +I endeavored, also, immediately to occupy myself, and at the same time to +comfort my despondency. I tried to fancy, that in the course of the morning, at +such time as might prove agreeable to him, Bartleby, of his own free accord, +would emerge from his hermitage and take up some decided line of march in the +direction of the door. But no. Half-past twelve o’clock came; Turkey +began to glow in the face, overturn his inkstand, and become generally +obstreperous; Nippers abated down into quietude and courtesy; Ginger Nut +munched his noon apple; and Bartleby remained standing at his window in one of +his profoundest dead-wall reveries. Will it be credited? Ought I to acknowledge +it? That afternoon I left the office without saying one further word to him. +</p> + +<p> +Some days now passed, during which, at leisure intervals I looked a little into +“Edwards on the Will,” and “Priestley on Necessity.” +Under the circumstances, those books induced a salutary feeling. Gradually I +slid into the persuasion that these troubles of mine, touching the scrivener, +had been all predestinated from eternity, and Bartleby was billeted upon me for +some mysterious purpose of an allwise Providence, which it was not for a mere +mortal like me to fathom. Yes, Bartleby, stay there behind your screen, thought +I; I shall persecute you no more; you are harmless and noiseless as any of +these old chairs; in short, I never feel so private as when I know you are +here. At last I see it, I feel it; I penetrate to the predestinated purpose of +my life. I am content. Others may have loftier parts to enact; but my mission +in this world, Bartleby, is to furnish you with office-room for such period as +you may see fit to remain. +</p> + +<p> +I believe that this wise and blessed frame of mind would have continued with +me, had it not been for the unsolicited and uncharitable remarks obtruded upon +me by my professional friends who visited the rooms. But thus it often is, that +the constant friction of illiberal minds wears out at last the best resolves of +the more generous. Though to be sure, when I reflected upon it, it was not +strange that people entering my office should be struck by the peculiar aspect +of the unaccountable Bartleby, and so be tempted to throw out some sinister +observations concerning him. Sometimes an attorney, having business with me, +and calling at my office, and finding no one but the scrivener there, would +undertake to obtain some sort of precise information from him touching my +whereabouts; but without heeding his idle talk, Bartleby would remain standing +immovable in the middle of the room. So after contemplating him in that +position for a time, the attorney would depart, no wiser than he came. +</p> + +<p> +Also, when a reference was going on, and the room full of lawyers and +witnesses, and business driving fast, some deeply-occupied legal gentleman +present, seeing Bartleby wholly unemployed, would request him to run round to +his (the legal gentleman’s) office and fetch some papers for him. +Thereupon, Bartleby would tranquilly decline, and yet remain idle as before. +Then the lawyer would give a great stare, and turn to me. And what could I say? +At last I was made aware that all through the circle of my professional +acquaintance, a whisper of wonder was running round, having reference to the +strange creature I kept at my office. This worried me very much. And as the +idea came upon me of his possibly turning out a long-lived man, and keep +occupying my chambers, and denying my authority; and perplexing my visitors; +and scandalizing my professional reputation; and casting a general gloom over +the premises; keeping soul and body together to the last upon his savings (for +doubtless he spent but half a dime a day), and in the end perhaps outlive me, +and claim possession of my office by right of his perpetual occupancy: as all +these dark anticipations crowded upon me more and more, and my friends +continually intruded their relentless remarks upon the apparition in my room; a +great change was wrought in me. I resolved to gather all my faculties together, +and forever rid me of this intolerable incubus. +</p> + +<p> +Ere revolving any complicated project, however, adapted to this end, I first +simply suggested to Bartleby the propriety of his permanent departure. In a +calm and serious tone, I commanded the idea to his careful and mature +consideration. But, having taken three days to meditate upon it, he apprised +me, that his original determination remained the same; in short, that he still +preferred to abide with me. +</p> + +<p> +What shall I do? I now said to myself, buttoning up my coat to the last button. +What shall I do? what ought I to do? what does conscience say I <i>should</i> +do with this man, or, rather, ghost. Rid myself of him, I must; go, he shall. +But how? You will not thrust him, the poor, pale, passive mortal—you will +not thrust such a helpless creature out of your door? you will not dishonor +yourself by such cruelty? No, I will not, I cannot do that. Rather would I let +him live and die here, and then mason up his remains in the wall. What, then, +will you do? For all your coaxing, he will not budge. Bribes he leaves under +your own paper-weight on your table; in short, it is quite plain that he +prefers to cling to you. +</p> + +<p> +Then something severe, something unusual must be done. What! surely you will +not have him collared by a constable, and commit his innocent pallor to the +common jail? And upon what ground could you procure such a thing to be +done?—a vagrant, is he? What! he a vagrant, a wanderer, who refuses to +budge? It is because he will <i>not</i> be a vagrant, then, that you seek to +count him <i>as</i> a vagrant. That is too absurd. No visible means of support: +there I have him. Wrong again: for indubitably he <i>does</i> support himself, +and that is the only unanswerable proof that any man can show of his possessing +the means so to do. No more, then. Since he will not quit me, I must quit him. +I will change my offices; I will move elsewhere, and give him fair notice, that +if I find him on my new premises I will then proceed against him as a common +trespasser. +</p> + +<p> +Acting accordingly, next day I thus addressed him: “I find these chambers +too far from the City Hall; the air is unwholesome. In a word, I propose to +remove my offices next week, and shall no longer require your services. I tell +you this now, in order that you may seek another place.” +</p> + +<p> +He made no reply, and nothing more was said. +</p> + +<p> +On the appointed day I engaged carts and men, proceeded to my chambers, and, +having but little furniture, everything was removed in a few hours. Throughout, +the scrivener remained standing behind the screen, which I directed to be +removed the last thing. It was withdrawn; and, being folded up like a huge +folio, left him the motionless occupant of a naked room. I stood in the entry +watching him a moment, while something from within me upbraided me. +</p> + +<p> +I re-entered, with my hand in my pocket—and—and my heart in my +mouth. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-by, Bartleby; I am going—good-by, and God some way bless you; +and take that,” slipping something in his hand. But it dropped upon the +floor, and then—strange to say—I tore myself from him whom I had so +longed to be rid of. +</p> + +<p> +Established in my new quarters, for a day or two I kept the door locked, and +started at every footfall in the passages. When I returned to my rooms, after +any little absence, I would pause at the threshold for an instant, and +attentively listen, ere applying my key. But these fears were needless. +Bartleby never came nigh me. +</p> + +<p> +I thought all was going well, when a perturbed-looking stranger visited me, +inquiring whether I was the person who had recently occupied rooms at No. +—— Wall street. +</p> + +<p> +Full of forebodings, I replied that I was. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, sir,” said the stranger, who proved a lawyer, “you are +responsible for the man you left there. He refuses to do any copying; he +refuses to do anything; he says he prefers not to; and he refuses to quit the +premises.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am very sorry, sir,” said I, with assumed tranquillity, but an +inward tremor, “but, really, the man you allude to is nothing to +me—he is no relation or apprentice of mine, that you should hold me +responsible for him.” +</p> + +<p> +“In mercy’s name, who is he?” +</p> + +<p> +“I certainly cannot inform you. I know nothing about him. Formerly I +employed him as a copyist; but he has done nothing for me now for some time +past.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall settle him, then—good morning, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +Several days passed, and I heard nothing more; and, though I often felt a +charitable prompting to call at the place and see poor Bartleby, yet a certain +squeamishness, of I know not what, withheld me. +</p> + +<p> +All is over with him, by this time, thought I, at last, when, through another +week, no further intelligence reached me. But, coming to my room the day after, +I found several persons waiting at my door in a high state of nervous +excitement. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the man—here he comes,” cried the foremost one, +whom I recognized as the lawyer who had previously called upon me alone. +</p> + +<p> +“You must take him away, sir, at once,” cried a portly person among +them, advancing upon me, and whom I knew to be the landlord of No. +—— Wall street. “These gentlemen, my tenants, cannot stand it +any longer; Mr. B——,” pointing to the lawyer, “has +turned him out of his room, and he now persists in haunting the building +generally, sitting upon the banisters of the stairs by day, and sleeping in the +entry by night. Everybody is concerned; clients are leaving the offices; some +fears are entertained of a mob; something you must do, and that without +delay.” +</p> + +<p> +Aghast at this torrent, I fell back before it, and would fain have locked +myself in my new quarters. In vain I persisted that Bartleby was nothing to +me—no more than to any one else. In vain—I was the last person +known to have anything to do with him, and they held me to the terrible +account. Fearful, then, of being exposed in the papers (as one person present +obscurely threatened), I considered the matter, and, at length, said, that if +the lawyer would give me a confidential interview with the scrivener, in his +(the lawyer’s) own room, I would, that afternoon, strive my best to rid +them of the nuisance they complained of. +</p> + +<p> +Going up stairs to my old haunt, there was Bartleby silently sitting upon the +banister at the landing. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you doing here, Bartleby?” said I. +</p> + +<p> +“Sitting upon the banister,” he mildly replied. +</p> + +<p> +I motioned him into the lawyer’s room, who then left us. +</p> + +<p> +“Bartleby” said I, “are you aware that you are the cause of +great tribulation to me, by persisting in occupying the entry after being +dismissed from the office?” +</p> + +<p> +No answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Now one of two things must take place. Either you must do something, or +something must be done to you. Now what sort of business would you like to +engage in? Would you like to re-engage in copying for some one?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; I would prefer not to make any change.” +</p> + +<p> +“Would you like a clerkship in a dry-goods store?” +</p> + +<p> +“There is too much confinement about that. No, I would not like a +clerkship; but I am not particular.” +</p> + +<p> +“Too much confinement,” I cried, “why you keep yourself +confined all the time!” +</p> + +<p> +“I would prefer not to take a clerkship,” he rejoined, as if to +settle that little item at once. +</p> + +<p> +“How would a bar-tender’s business suit you? There is no trying of +the eye-sight in that.” +</p> + +<p> +“I would not like it at all; though, as I said before, I am not +particular.” +</p> + +<p> +His unwonted wordiness inspirited me. I returned to the charge. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, would you like to travel through the country collecting +bills for the merchants? That would improve your health.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I would prefer to be doing something else.” +</p> + +<p> +“How, then, would going as a companion to Europe, to entertain some young +gentleman with your conversation—how would that suit you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all. It does not strike me that there is anything definite about +that. I like to be stationary. But I am not particular.” +</p> + +<p> +“Stationary you shall be, then,” I cried, now losing all patience, +and, for the first time in all my exasperating connection with him, fairly +flying into a passion. “If you do not go away from these premises before +night, I shall feel bound—indeed, I <i>am</i> +bound—to—to—to quit the premises myself!” I rather +absurdly concluded, knowing not with what possible threat to try to frighten +his immobility into compliance. Despairing of all further efforts, I was +precipitately leaving him, when a final thought occurred to me—one which +had not been wholly unindulged before. +</p> + +<p> +“Bartleby,” said I, in the kindest tone I could assume under such +exciting circumstances, “will you go home with me now—not to my +office, but my dwelling—and remain there till we can conclude upon some +convenient arrangement for you at our leisure? Come, let us start now, right +away.” +</p> + +<p> +“No: at present I would prefer not to make any change at all.” +</p> + +<p> +I answered nothing; but, effectually dodging every one by the suddenness and +rapidity of my flight, rushed from the building, ran up Wall street towards +Broadway, and, jumping into the first omnibus, was soon removed from pursuit. +As soon as tranquillity returned, I distinctly perceived that I had now done +all that I possibly could, both in respect to the demands of the landlord and +his tenants, and with regard to my own desire and sense of duty, to benefit +Bartleby, and shield him from rude persecution, I now strove to be entirely +care-free and quiescent; and my conscience justified me in the attempt; though, +indeed, it was not so successful as I could have wished. So fearful was I of +being again hunted out by the incensed landlord and his exasperated tenants, +that, surrendering my business to Nippers, for a few days, I drove about the +upper part of the town and through the suburbs, in my rockaway; crossed over to +Jersey City and Hoboken, and paid fugitive visits to Manhattanville and +Astoria. In fact, I almost lived in my rockaway for the time. +</p> + +<p> +When again I entered my office, lo, a note from the landlord lay upon the desk. +I opened it with trembling hands. It informed me that the writer had sent to +the police, and had Bartleby removed to the Tombs as a vagrant. Moreover, since +I knew more about him than any one else, he wished me to appear at that place, +and make a suitable statement of the facts. These tidings had a conflicting +effect upon me. At first I was indignant; but, at last, almost approved. The +landlord’s energetic, summary disposition, had led him to adopt a +procedure which I do not think I would have decided upon myself; and yet, as a +last resort, under such peculiar circumstances, it seemed the only plan. +</p> + +<p> +As I afterwards learned, the poor scrivener, when told that he must be +conducted to the Tombs, offered not the slightest obstacle, but, in his pale, +unmoving way, silently acquiesced. +</p> + +<p> +Some of the compassionate and curious bystanders joined the party; and headed +by one of the constables arm in arm with Bartleby, the silent procession filed +its way through all the noise, and heat, and joy of the roaring thoroughfares +at noon. +</p> + +<p> +The same day I received the note, I went to the Tombs, or, to speak more +properly, the Halls of Justice. Seeking the right officer, I stated the purpose +of my call, and was informed that the individual I described was, indeed, +within. I then assured the functionary that Bartleby was a perfectly honest +man, and greatly to be compassionated, however unaccountably eccentric. I +narrated all I knew and closed by suggesting the idea of letting him remain in +as indulgent confinement as possible, till something less harsh might be +done—though, indeed, I hardly knew what. At all events, if nothing else +could be decided upon, the alms-house must receive him. I then begged to have +an interview. +</p> + +<p> +Being under no disgraceful charge, and quite serene and harmless in all his +ways, they had permitted him freely to wander about the prison, and, +especially, in the inclosed grass-platted yards thereof. And so I found him +there, standing all alone in the quietest of the yards, his face towards a high +wall, while all around, from the narrow slits of the jail windows, I thought I +saw peering out upon him the eyes of murderers and thieves. +</p> + +<p> +“Bartleby!” +</p> + +<p> +“I know you,” he said, without looking round—“and I +want nothing to say to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was not I that brought you here, Bartleby,” said I, keenly +pained at his implied suspicion. “And to you, this should not be so vile +a place. Nothing reproachful attaches to you by being here. And see, it is not +so sad a place as one might think. Look, there is the sky, and here is the +grass.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know where I am,” he replied, but would say nothing more, and so +I left him. +</p> + +<p> +As I entered the corridor again, a broad meat-like man, in an apron, accosted +me, and, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, said—“Is that your +friend?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does he want to starve? If he does, let him live on the prison fare, +that’s all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you?” asked I, not knowing what to make of such an +unofficially speaking person in such a place. +</p> + +<p> +“I am the grub-man. Such gentlemen as have friends here, hire me to +provide them with something good to eat.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is this so?” said I, turning to the turnkey. +</p> + +<p> +He said it was. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then,” said I, slipping some silver into the +grub-man’s hands (for so they called him), “I want you to give +particular attention to my friend there; let him have the best dinner you can +get. And you must be as polite to him as possible.” +</p> + +<p> +“Introduce me, will you?” said the grub-man, looking at me with an +expression which seem to say he was all impatience for an opportunity to give a +specimen of his breeding. +</p> + +<p> +Thinking it would prove of benefit to the scrivener, I acquiesced; and, asking +the grub-man his name, went up with him to Bartleby. +</p> + +<p> +“Bartleby, this is a friend; you will find him very useful to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your sarvant, sir, your sarvant,” said the grub-man, making a low +salutation behind his apron. “Hope you find it pleasant here, sir; nice +grounds—cool apartments—hope you’ll stay with us some +time—try to make it agreeable. What will you have for dinner +to-day?” +</p> + +<p> +“I prefer not to dine to-day,” said Bartleby, turning away. +“It would disagree with me; I am unused to dinners.” So saying, he +slowly moved to the other side of the inclosure, and took up a position +fronting the dead-wall. +</p> + +<p> +“How’s this?” said the grub-man, addressing me with a stare +of astonishment. “He’s odd, ain’t he?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think he is a little deranged,” said I, sadly. +</p> + +<p> +“Deranged? deranged is it? Well, now, upon my word, I thought that friend +of yourn was a gentleman forger; they are always pale, and genteel-like, them +forgers. I can’t help pity ’em—can’t help it, sir. Did +you know Monroe Edwards?” he added, touchingly, and paused. Then, laying +his hand piteously on my shoulder, sighed, “he died of consumption at +Sing-Sing. So you weren’t acquainted with Monroe?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I was never socially acquainted with any forgers. But I cannot stop +longer. Look to my friend yonder. You will not lose by it. I will see you +again.” +</p> + +<p> +Some few days after this, I again obtained admission to the Tombs, and went +through the corridors in quest of Bartleby; but without finding him. +</p> + +<p> +“I saw him coming from his cell not long ago,” said a turnkey, +“may be he’s gone to loiter in the yards.” +</p> + +<p> +So I went in that direction. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you looking for the silent man?” said another turnkey, passing +me. “Yonder he lies—sleeping in the yard there. ’Tis not +twenty minutes since I saw him lie down.” +</p> + +<p> +The yard was entirely quiet. It was not accessible to the common prisoners. The +surrounding walls, of amazing thickness, kept off all sounds behind them. The +Egyptian character of the masonry weighed upon me with its gloom. But a soft +imprisoned turf grew under foot. The heart of the eternal pyramids, it seemed, +wherein, by some strange magic, through the clefts, grass-seed, dropped by +birds, had sprung. +</p> + +<p> +Strangely huddled at the base of the wall, his knees drawn up, and lying on his +side, his head touching the cold stones, I saw the wasted Bartleby. But nothing +stirred. I paused; then went close up to him; stooped over, and saw that his +dim eyes were open; otherwise he seemed profoundly sleeping. Something prompted +me to touch him. I felt his hand, when a tingling shiver ran up my arm and down +my spine to my feet. +</p> + +<p> +The round face of the grub-man peered upon me now. “His dinner is ready. +Won’t he dine to-day, either? Or does he live without dining?” +</p> + +<p> +“Lives without dining,” said I, and closed the eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Eh!—He’s asleep, ain’t he?” +</p> + +<p> +“With kings and counselors,” murmured I. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +There would seem little need for proceeding further in this history. +Imagination will readily supply the meagre recital of poor Bartleby’s +interment. But, ere parting with the reader, let me say, that if this little +narrative has sufficiently interested him, to awaken curiosity as to who +Bartleby was, and what manner of life he led prior to the present +narrator’s making his acquaintance, I can only reply, that in such +curiosity I fully share, but am wholly unable to gratify it. Yet here I hardly +know whether I should divulge one little item of rumor, which came to my ear a +few months after the scrivener’s decease. Upon what basis it rested, I +could never ascertain; and hence, how true it is I cannot now tell. But, +inasmuch as this vague report has not been without a certain suggestive +interest to me, however sad, it may prove the same with some others; and so I +will briefly mention it. The report was this: that Bartleby had been a +subordinate clerk in the Dead Letter Office at Washington, from which he had +been suddenly removed by a change in the administration. When I think over this +rumor, hardly can I express the emotions which seize me. Dead letters! does it +not sound like dead men? Conceive a man by nature and misfortune prone to a +pallid hopelessness, can any business seem more fitted to heighten it than that +of continually handling these dead letters, and assorting them for the flames? +For by the cart-load they are annually burned. Sometimes from out the folded +paper the pale clerk takes a ring—the finger it was meant for, perhaps, +moulders in the grave; a bank-note sent in swiftest charity—he whom it +would relieve, nor eats nor hungers any more; pardon for those who died +despairing; hope for those who died unhoping; good tidings for those who died +stifled by unrelieved calamities. On errands of life, these letters speed to +death. +</p> + +<p> +Ah, Bartleby! Ah, humanity! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>BENITO CERENO.</h2> + +<p> +In the year 1799, Captain Amasa Delano, of Duxbury, in Massachusetts, +commanding a large sealer and general trader, lay at anchor with a valuable +cargo, in the harbor of St. Maria—a small, desert, uninhabited island +toward the southern extremity of the long coast of Chili. There he had touched +for water. +</p> + +<p> +On the second day, not long after dawn, while lying in his berth, his mate came +below, informing him that a strange sail was coming into the bay. Ships were +then not so plenty in those waters as now. He rose, dressed, and went on deck. +</p> + +<p> +The morning was one peculiar to that coast. Everything was mute and calm; +everything gray. The sea, though undulated into long roods of swells, seemed +fixed, and was sleeked at the surface like waved lead that has cooled and set +in the smelter’s mould. The sky seemed a gray surtout. Flights of +troubled gray fowl, kith and kin with flights of troubled gray vapors among +which they were mixed, skimmed low and fitfully over the waters, as swallows +over meadows before storms. Shadows present, foreshadowing deeper shadows to +come. +</p> + +<p> +To Captain Delano’s surprise, the stranger, viewed through the glass, +showed no colors; though to do so upon entering a haven, however uninhabited in +its shores, where but a single other ship might be lying, was the custom among +peaceful seamen of all nations. Considering the lawlessness and loneliness of +the spot, and the sort of stories, at that day, associated with those seas, +Captain Delano’s surprise might have deepened into some uneasiness had he +not been a person of a singularly undistrustful good-nature, not liable, except +on extraordinary and repeated incentives, and hardly then, to indulge in +personal alarms, any way involving the imputation of malign evil in man. +Whether, in view of what humanity is capable, such a trait implies, along with +a benevolent heart, more than ordinary quickness and accuracy of intellectual +perception, may be left to the wise to determine. +</p> + +<p> +But whatever misgivings might have obtruded on first seeing the stranger, would +almost, in any seaman’s mind, have been dissipated by observing that, the +ship, in navigating into the harbor, was drawing too near the land; a sunken +reef making out off her bow. This seemed to prove her a stranger, indeed, not +only to the sealer, but the island; consequently, she could be no wonted +freebooter on that ocean. With no small interest, Captain Delano continued to +watch her—a proceeding not much facilitated by the vapors partly mantling +the hull, through which the far matin light from her cabin streamed equivocally +enough; much like the sun—by this time hemisphered on the rim of the +horizon, and, apparently, in company with the strange ship entering the +harbor—which, wimpled by the same low, creeping clouds, showed not unlike +a Lima intriguante’s one sinister eye peering across the Plaza from the +Indian loop-hole of her dusk <i>saya-y-manta.</i> +</p> + +<p> +It might have been but a deception of the vapors, but, the longer the stranger +was watched the more singular appeared her manoeuvres. Ere long it seemed hard +to decide whether she meant to come in or no—what she wanted, or what she +was about. The wind, which had breezed up a little during the night, was now +extremely light and baffling, which the more increased the apparent uncertainty +of her movements. Surmising, at last, that it might be a ship in distress, +Captain Delano ordered his whale-boat to be dropped, and, much to the wary +opposition of his mate, prepared to board her, and, at the least, pilot her in. +On the night previous, a fishing-party of the seamen had gone a long distance +to some detached rocks out of sight from the sealer, and, an hour or two before +daybreak, had returned, having met with no small success. Presuming that the +stranger might have been long off soundings, the good captain put several +baskets of the fish, for presents, into his boat, and so pulled away. From her +continuing too near the sunken reef, deeming her in danger, calling to his men, +he made all haste to apprise those on board of their situation. But, some time +ere the boat came up, the wind, light though it was, having shifted, had headed +the vessel off, as well as partly broken the vapors from about her. +</p> + +<p> +Upon gaining a less remote view, the ship, when made signally visible on the +verge of the leaden-hued swells, with the shreds of fog here and there raggedly +furring her, appeared like a white-washed monastery after a thunder-storm, seen +perched upon some dun cliff among the Pyrenees. But it was no purely fanciful +resemblance which now, for a moment, almost led Captain Delano to think that +nothing less than a ship-load of monks was before him. Peering over the +bulwarks were what really seemed, in the hazy distance, throngs of dark cowls; +while, fitfully revealed through the open port-holes, other dark moving figures +were dimly descried, as of Black Friars pacing the cloisters. +</p> + +<p> +Upon a still nigher approach, this appearance was modified, and the true +character of the vessel was plain—a Spanish merchantman of the first +class, carrying negro slaves, amongst other valuable freight, from one colonial +port to another. A very large, and, in its time, a very fine vessel, such as in +those days were at intervals encountered along that main; sometimes superseded +Acapulco treasure-ships, or retired frigates of the Spanish king’s navy, +which, like superannuated Italian palaces, still, under a decline of masters, +preserved signs of former state. +</p> + +<p> +As the whale-boat drew more and more nigh, the cause of the peculiar +pipe-clayed aspect of the stranger was seen in the slovenly neglect pervading +her. The spars, ropes, and great part of the bulwarks, looked woolly, from long +unacquaintance with the scraper, tar, and the brush. Her keel seemed laid, her +ribs put together, and she launched, from Ezekiel’s Valley of Dry Bones. +</p> + +<p> +In the present business in which she was engaged, the ship’s general +model and rig appeared to have undergone no material change from their original +warlike and Froissart pattern. However, no guns were seen. +</p> + +<p> +The tops were large, and were railed about with what had once been octagonal +net-work, all now in sad disrepair. These tops hung overhead like three ruinous +aviaries, in one of which was seen, perched, on a ratlin, a white noddy, a +strange fowl, so called from its lethargic, somnambulistic character, being +frequently caught by hand at sea. Battered and mouldy, the castellated +forecastle seemed some ancient turret, long ago taken by assault, and then left +to decay. Toward the stern, two high-raised quarter galleries—the +balustrades here and there covered with dry, tindery sea-moss—opening out +from the unoccupied state-cabin, whose dead-lights, for all the mild weather, +were hermetically closed and calked—these tenantless balconies hung over +the sea as if it were the grand Venetian canal. But the principal relic of +faded grandeur was the ample oval of the shield-like stern-piece, intricately +carved with the arms of Castile and Leon, medallioned about by groups of +mythological or symbolical devices; uppermost and central of which was a dark +satyr in a mask, holding his foot on the prostrate neck of a writhing figure, +likewise masked. +</p> + +<p> +Whether the ship had a figure-head, or only a plain beak, was not quite +certain, owing to canvas wrapped about that part, either to protect it while +undergoing a re-furbishing, or else decently to hide its decay. Rudely painted +or chalked, as in a sailor freak, along the forward side of a sort of pedestal +below the canvas, was the sentence, “<i>Seguid vuestro jefe</i>” +(follow your leader); while upon the tarnished headboards, near by, appeared, +in stately capitals, once gilt, the ship’s name, “SAN +DOMINICK,” each letter streakingly corroded with tricklings of +copper-spike rust; while, like mourning weeds, dark festoons of sea-grass +slimily swept to and fro over the name, with every hearse-like roll of the +hull. +</p> + +<p> +As, at last, the boat was hooked from the bow along toward the gangway +amidship, its keel, while yet some inches separated from the hull, harshly +grated as on a sunken coral reef. It proved a huge bunch of conglobated +barnacles adhering below the water to the side like a wen—a token of +baffling airs and long calms passed somewhere in those seas. +</p> + +<p> +Climbing the side, the visitor was at once surrounded by a clamorous throng of +whites and blacks, but the latter outnumbering the former more than could have +been expected, negro transportation-ship as the stranger in port was. But, in +one language, and as with one voice, all poured out a common tale of suffering; +in which the negresses, of whom there were not a few, exceeded the others in +their dolorous vehemence. The scurvy, together with the fever, had swept off a +great part of their number, more especially the Spaniards. Off Cape Horn they +had narrowly escaped shipwreck; then, for days together, they had lain tranced +without wind; their provisions were low; their water next to none; their lips +that moment were baked. +</p> + +<p> +While Captain Delano was thus made the mark of all eager tongues, his one eager +glance took in all faces, with every other object about him. +</p> + +<p> +Always upon first boarding a large and populous ship at sea, especially a +foreign one, with a nondescript crew such as Lascars or Manilla men, the +impression varies in a peculiar way from that produced by first entering a +strange house with strange inmates in a strange land. Both house and +ship—the one by its walls and blinds, the other by its high bulwarks like +ramparts—hoard from view their interiors till the last moment: but in the +case of the ship there is this addition; that the living spectacle it contains, +upon its sudden and complete disclosure, has, in contrast with the blank ocean +which zones it, something of the effect of enchantment. The ship seems unreal; +these strange costumes, gestures, and faces, but a shadowy tableau just emerged +from the deep, which directly must receive back what it gave. +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps it was some such influence, as above is attempted to be described, +which, in Captain Delano’s mind, heightened whatever, upon a staid +scrutiny, might have seemed unusual; especially the conspicuous figures of four +elderly grizzled negroes, their heads like black, doddered willow tops, who, in +venerable contrast to the tumult below them, were couched, sphynx-like, one on +the starboard cat-head, another on the larboard, and the remaining pair face to +face on the opposite bulwarks above the main-chains. They each had bits of +unstranded old junk in their hands, and, with a sort of stoical self-content, +were picking the junk into oakum, a small heap of which lay by their sides. +They accompanied the task with a continuous, low, monotonous, chant; droning +and drilling away like so many gray-headed bag-pipers playing a funeral march. +</p> + +<p> +The quarter-deck rose into an ample elevated poop, upon the forward verge of +which, lifted, like the oakum-pickers, some eight feet above the general +throng, sat along in a row, separated by regular spaces, the cross-legged +figures of six other blacks; each with a rusty hatchet in his hand, which, with +a bit of brick and a rag, he was engaged like a scullion in scouring; while +between each two was a small stack of hatchets, their rusted edges turned +forward awaiting a like operation. Though occasionally the four oakum-pickers +would briefly address some person or persons in the crowd below, yet the six +hatchet-polishers neither spoke to others, nor breathed a whisper among +themselves, but sat intent upon their task, except at intervals, when, with the +peculiar love in negroes of uniting industry with pastime, two and two they +sideways clashed their hatchets together, like cymbals, with a barbarous din. +All six, unlike the generality, had the raw aspect of unsophisticated Africans. +</p> + +<p> +But that first comprehensive glance which took in those ten figures, with +scores less conspicuous, rested but an instant upon them, as, impatient of the +hubbub of voices, the visitor turned in quest of whomsoever it might be that +commanded the ship. +</p> + +<p> +But as if not unwilling to let nature make known her own case among his +suffering charge, or else in despair of restraining it for the time, the +Spanish captain, a gentlemanly, reserved-looking, and rather young man to a +stranger’s eye, dressed with singular richness, but bearing plain traces +of recent sleepless cares and disquietudes, stood passively by, leaning against +the main-mast, at one moment casting a dreary, spiritless look upon his excited +people, at the next an unhappy glance toward his visitor. By his side stood a +black of small stature, in whose rude face, as occasionally, like a +shepherd’s dog, he mutely turned it up into the Spaniard’s, sorrow +and affection were equally blended. +</p> + +<p> +Struggling through the throng, the American advanced to the Spaniard, assuring +him of his sympathies, and offering to render whatever assistance might be in +his power. To which the Spaniard returned for the present but grave and +ceremonious acknowledgments, his national formality dusked by the saturnine +mood of ill-health. +</p> + +<p> +But losing no time in mere compliments, Captain Delano, returning to the +gangway, had his basket of fish brought up; and as the wind still continued +light, so that some hours at least must elapse ere the ship could be brought to +the anchorage, he bade his men return to the sealer, and fetch back as much +water as the whale-boat could carry, with whatever soft bread the steward might +have, all the remaining pumpkins on board, with a box of sugar, and a dozen of +his private bottles of cider. +</p> + +<p> +Not many minutes after the boat’s pushing off, to the vexation of all, +the wind entirely died away, and the tide turning, began drifting back the ship +helplessly seaward. But trusting this would not long last, Captain Delano +sought, with good hopes, to cheer up the strangers, feeling no small +satisfaction that, with persons in their condition, he could—thanks to +his frequent voyages along the Spanish main—converse with some freedom in +their native tongue. +</p> + +<p> +While left alone with them, he was not long in observing some things tending to +heighten his first impressions; but surprise was lost in pity, both for the +Spaniards and blacks, alike evidently reduced from scarcity of water and +provisions; while long-continued suffering seemed to have brought out the less +good-natured qualities of the negroes, besides, at the same time, impairing the +Spaniard’s authority over them. But, under the circumstances, precisely +this condition of things was to have been anticipated. In armies, navies, +cities, or families, in nature herself, nothing more relaxes good order than +misery. Still, Captain Delano was not without the idea, that had Benito Cereno +been a man of greater energy, misrule would hardly have come to the present +pass. But the debility, constitutional or induced by hardships, bodily and +mental, of the Spanish captain, was too obvious to be overlooked. A prey to +settled dejection, as if long mocked with hope he would not now indulge it, +even when it had ceased to be a mock, the prospect of that day, or evening at +furthest, lying at anchor, with plenty of water for his people, and a brother +captain to counsel and befriend, seemed in no perceptible degree to encourage +him. His mind appeared unstrung, if not still more seriously affected. Shut up +in these oaken walls, chained to one dull round of command, whose +unconditionality cloyed him, like some hypochondriac abbot he moved slowly +about, at times suddenly pausing, starting, or staring, biting his lip, biting +his finger-nail, flushing, paling, twitching his beard, with other symptoms of +an absent or moody mind. This distempered spirit was lodged, as before hinted, +in as distempered a frame. He was rather tall, but seemed never to have been +robust, and now with nervous suffering was almost worn to a skeleton. A +tendency to some pulmonary complaint appeared to have been lately confirmed. +His voice was like that of one with lungs half gone—hoarsely suppressed, +a husky whisper. No wonder that, as in this state he tottered about, his +private servant apprehensively followed him. Sometimes the negro gave his +master his arm, or took his handkerchief out of his pocket for him; performing +these and similar offices with that affectionate zeal which transmutes into +something filial or fraternal acts in themselves but menial; and which has +gained for the negro the repute of making the most pleasing body-servant in the +world; one, too, whom a master need be on no stiffly superior terms with, but +may treat with familiar trust; less a servant than a devoted companion. +</p> + +<p> +Marking the noisy indocility of the blacks in general, as well as what seemed +the sullen inefficiency of the whites it was not without humane satisfaction +that Captain Delano witnessed the steady good conduct of Babo. +</p> + +<p> +But the good conduct of Babo, hardly more than the ill-behavior of others, +seemed to withdraw the half-lunatic Don Benito from his cloudy languor. Not +that such precisely was the impression made by the Spaniard on the mind of his +visitor. The Spaniard’s individual unrest was, for the present, but noted +as a conspicuous feature in the ship’s general affliction. Still, Captain +Delano was not a little concerned at what he could not help taking for the time +to be Don Benito’s unfriendly indifference towards himself. The +Spaniard’s manner, too, conveyed a sort of sour and gloomy disdain, which +he seemed at no pains to disguise. But this the American in charity ascribed to +the harassing effects of sickness, since, in former instances, he had noted +that there are peculiar natures on whom prolonged physical suffering seems to +cancel every social instinct of kindness; as if, forced to black bread +themselves, they deemed it but equity that each person coming nigh them should, +indirectly, by some slight or affront, be made to partake of their fare. +</p> + +<p> +But ere long Captain Delano bethought him that, indulgent as he was at the +first, in judging the Spaniard, he might not, after all, have exercised charity +enough. At bottom it was Don Benito’s reserve which displeased him; but +the same reserve was shown towards all but his faithful personal attendant. +Even the formal reports which, according to sea-usage, were, at stated times, +made to him by some petty underling, either a white, mulatto or black, he +hardly had patience enough to listen to, without betraying contemptuous +aversion. His manner upon such occasions was, in its degree, not unlike that +which might be supposed to have been his imperial countryman’s, Charles +V., just previous to the anchoritish retirement of that monarch from the +throne. +</p> + +<p> +This splenetic disrelish of his place was evinced in almost every function +pertaining to it. Proud as he was moody, he condescended to no personal +mandate. Whatever special orders were necessary, their delivery was delegated +to his body-servant, who in turn transferred them to their ultimate +destination, through runners, alert Spanish boys or slave boys, like pages or +pilot-fish within easy call continually hovering round Don Benito. So that to +have beheld this undemonstrative invalid gliding about, apathetic and mute, no +landsman could have dreamed that in him was lodged a dictatorship beyond which, +while at sea, there was no earthly appeal. +</p> + +<p> +Thus, the Spaniard, regarded in his reserve, seemed the involuntary victim of +mental disorder. But, in fact, his reserve might, in some degree, have +proceeded from design. If so, then here was evinced the unhealthy climax of +that icy though conscientious policy, more or less adopted by all commanders of +large ships, which, except in signal emergencies, obliterates alike the +manifestation of sway with every trace of sociality; transforming the man into +a block, or rather into a loaded cannon, which, until there is call for +thunder, has nothing to say. +</p> + +<p> +Viewing him in this light, it seemed but a natural token of the perverse habit +induced by a long course of such hard self-restraint, that, notwithstanding the +present condition of his ship, the Spaniard should still persist in a demeanor, +which, however harmless, or, it may be, appropriate, in a well-appointed +vessel, such as the San Dominick might have been at the outset of the voyage, +was anything but judicious now. But the Spaniard, perhaps, thought that it was +with captains as with gods: reserve, under all events, must still be their cue. +But probably this appearance of slumbering dominion might have been but an +attempted disguise to conscious imbecility—not deep policy, but shallow +device. But be all this as it might, whether Don Benito’s manner was +designed or not, the more Captain Delano noted its pervading reserve, the less +he felt uneasiness at any particular manifestation of that reserve towards +himself. +</p> + +<p> +Neither were his thoughts taken up by the captain alone. Wonted to the quiet +orderliness of the sealer’s comfortable family of a crew, the noisy +confusion of the San Dominick’s suffering host repeatedly challenged his +eye. Some prominent breaches, not only of discipline but of decency, were +observed. These Captain Delano could not but ascribe, in the main, to the +absence of those subordinate deck-officers to whom, along with higher duties, +is intrusted what may be styled the police department of a populous ship. True, +the old oakum-pickers appeared at times to act the part of monitorial +constables to their countrymen, the blacks; but though occasionally succeeding +in allaying trifling outbreaks now and then between man and man, they could do +little or nothing toward establishing general quiet. The San Dominick was in +the condition of a transatlantic emigrant ship, among whose multitude of living +freight are some individuals, doubtless, as little troublesome as crates and +bales; but the friendly remonstrances of such with their ruder companions are +of not so much avail as the unfriendly arm of the mate. What the San Dominick +wanted was, what the emigrant ship has, stern superior officers. But on these +decks not so much as a fourth-mate was to be seen. +</p> + +<p> +The visitor’s curiosity was roused to learn the particulars of those +mishaps which had brought about such absenteeism, with its consequences; +because, though deriving some inkling of the voyage from the wails which at the +first moment had greeted him, yet of the details no clear understanding had +been had. The best account would, doubtless, be given by the captain. Yet at +first the visitor was loth to ask it, unwilling to provoke some distant rebuff. +But plucking up courage, he at last accosted Don Benito, renewing the +expression of his benevolent interest, adding, that did he (Captain Delano) but +know the particulars of the ship’s misfortunes, he would, perhaps, be +better able in the end to relieve them. Would Don Benito favor him with the +whole story. +</p> + +<p> +Don Benito faltered; then, like some somnambulist suddenly interfered with, +vacantly stared at his visitor, and ended by looking down on the deck. He +maintained this posture so long, that Captain Delano, almost equally +disconcerted, and involuntarily almost as rude, turned suddenly from him, +walking forward to accost one of the Spanish seamen for the desired +information. But he had hardly gone five paces, when, with a sort of eagerness, +Don Benito invited him back, regretting his momentary absence of mind, and +professing readiness to gratify him. +</p> + +<p> +While most part of the story was being given, the two captains stood on the +after part of the main-deck, a privileged spot, no one being near but the +servant. +</p> + +<p> +“It is now a hundred and ninety days,” began the Spaniard, in his +husky whisper, “that this ship, well officered and well manned, with +several cabin passengers—some fifty Spaniards in all—sailed from +Buenos Ayres bound to Lima, with a general cargo, hardware, Paraguay tea and +the like—and,” pointing forward, “that parcel of negroes, now +not more than a hundred and fifty, as you see, but then numbering over three +hundred souls. Off Cape Horn we had heavy gales. In one moment, by night, three +of my best officers, with fifteen sailors, were lost, with the main-yard; the +spar snapping under them in the slings, as they sought, with heavers, to beat +down the icy sail. To lighten the hull, the heavier sacks of mata were thrown +into the sea, with most of the water-pipes lashed on deck at the time. And this +last necessity it was, combined with the prolonged detections afterwards +experienced, which eventually brought about our chief causes of suffering. +When—” +</p> + +<p> +Here there was a sudden fainting attack of his cough, brought on, no doubt, by +his mental distress. His servant sustained him, and drawing a cordial from his +pocket placed it to his lips. He a little revived. But unwilling to leave him +unsupported while yet imperfectly restored, the black with one arm still +encircled his master, at the same time keeping his eye fixed on his face, as if +to watch for the first sign of complete restoration, or relapse, as the event +might prove. +</p> + +<p> +The Spaniard proceeded, but brokenly and obscurely, as one in a dream. +</p> + +<p> +—“Oh, my God! rather than pass through what I have, with joy I +would have hailed the most terrible gales; but—” +</p> + +<p> +His cough returned and with increased violence; this subsiding; with reddened +lips and closed eyes he fell heavily against his supporter. +</p> + +<p> +“His mind wanders. He was thinking of the plague that followed the +gales,” plaintively sighed the servant; “my poor, poor +master!” wringing one hand, and with the other wiping the mouth. +“But be patient, Señor,” again turning to Captain Delano, +“these fits do not last long; master will soon be himself.” +</p> + +<p> +Don Benito reviving, went on; but as this portion of the story was very +brokenly delivered, the substance only will here be set down. +</p> + +<p> +It appeared that after the ship had been many days tossed in storms off the +Cape, the scurvy broke out, carrying off numbers of the whites and blacks. When +at last they had worked round into the Pacific, their spars and sails were so +damaged, and so inadequately handled by the surviving mariners, most of whom +were become invalids, that, unable to lay her northerly course by the wind, +which was powerful, the unmanageable ship, for successive days and nights, was +blown northwestward, where the breeze suddenly deserted her, in unknown waters, +to sultry calms. The absence of the water-pipes now proved as fatal to life as +before their presence had menaced it. Induced, or at least aggravated, by the +more than scanty allowance of water, a malignant fever followed the scurvy; +with the excessive heat of the lengthened calm, making such short work of it as +to sweep away, as by billows, whole families of the Africans, and a yet larger +number, proportionably, of the Spaniards, including, by a luckless fatality, +every remaining officer on board. Consequently, in the smart west winds +eventually following the calm, the already rent sails, having to be simply +dropped, not furled, at need, had been gradually reduced to the beggars’ +rags they were now. To procure substitutes for his lost sailors, as well as +supplies of water and sails, the captain, at the earliest opportunity, had made +for Baldivia, the southernmost civilized port of Chili and South America; but +upon nearing the coast the thick weather had prevented him from so much as +sighting that harbor. Since which period, almost without a crew, and almost +without canvas and almost without water, and, at intervals giving its added +dead to the sea, the San Dominick had been battle-dored about by contrary +winds, inveigled by currents, or grown weedy in calms. Like a man lost in +woods, more than once she had doubled upon her own track. +</p> + +<p> +“But throughout these calamities,” huskily continued Don Benito, +painfully turning in the half embrace of his servant, “I have to thank +those negroes you see, who, though to your inexperienced eyes appearing unruly, +have, indeed, conducted themselves with less of restlessness than even their +owner could have thought possible under such circumstances.” +</p> + +<p> +Here he again fell faintly back. Again his mind wandered; but he rallied, and +less obscurely proceeded. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, their owner was quite right in assuring me that no fetters would be +needed with his blacks; so that while, as is wont in this transportation, those +negroes have always remained upon deck—not thrust below, as in the +Guinea-men—they have, also, from the beginning, been freely permitted to +range within given bounds at their pleasure.” +</p> + +<p> +Once more the faintness returned—his mind roved—but, recovering, he +resumed: +</p> + +<p> +“But it is Babo here to whom, under God, I owe not only my own +preservation, but likewise to him, chiefly, the merit is due, of pacifying his +more ignorant brethren, when at intervals tempted to murmurings.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, master,” sighed the black, bowing his face, “don’t +speak of me; Babo is nothing; what Babo has done was but duty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Faithful fellow!” cried Captain Delano. “Don Benito, I envy +you such a friend; slave I cannot call him.” +</p> + +<p> +As master and man stood before him, the black upholding the white, Captain +Delano could not but bethink him of the beauty of that relationship which could +present such a spectacle of fidelity on the one hand and confidence on the +other. The scene was heightened by, the contrast in dress, denoting their +relative positions. The Spaniard wore a loose Chili jacket of dark velvet; +white small-clothes and stockings, with silver buckles at the knee and instep; +a high-crowned sombrero, of fine grass; a slender sword, silver mounted, hung +from a knot in his sash—the last being an almost invariable adjunct, more +for utility than ornament, of a South American gentleman’s dress to this +hour. Excepting when his occasional nervous contortions brought about disarray, +there was a certain precision in his attire curiously at variance with the +unsightly disorder around; especially in the belittered Ghetto, forward of the +main-mast, wholly occupied by the blacks. +</p> + +<p> +The servant wore nothing but wide trowsers, apparently, from their coarseness +and patches, made out of some old topsail; they were clean, and confined at the +waist by a bit of unstranded rope, which, with his composed, deprecatory air at +times, made him look something like a begging friar of St. Francis. +</p> + +<p> +However unsuitable for the time and place, at least in the blunt-thinking +American’s eyes, and however strangely surviving in the midst of all his +afflictions, the toilette of Don Benito might not, in fashion at least, have +gone beyond the style of the day among South Americans of his class. Though on +the present voyage sailing from Buenos Ayres, he had avowed himself a native +and resident of Chili, whose inhabitants had not so generally adopted the plain +coat and once plebeian pantaloons; but, with a becoming modification, adhered +to their provincial costume, picturesque as any in the world. Still, relatively +to the pale history of the voyage, and his own pale face, there seemed +something so incongruous in the Spaniard’s apparel, as almost to suggest +the image of an invalid courtier tottering about London streets in the time of +the plague. +</p> + +<p> +The portion of the narrative which, perhaps, most excited interest, as well as +some surprise, considering the latitudes in question, was the long calms spoken +of, and more particularly the ship’s so long drifting about. Without +communicating the opinion, of course, the American could not but impute at +least part of the detentions both to clumsy seamanship and faulty navigation. +Eying Don Benito’s small, yellow hands, he easily inferred that the young +captain had not got into command at the hawse-hole, but the cabin-window; and +if so, why wonder at incompetence, in youth, sickness, and gentility united? +</p> + +<p> +But drowning criticism in compassion, after a fresh repetition of his +sympathies, Captain Delano, having heard out his story, not only engaged, as in +the first place, to see Don Benito and his people supplied in their immediate +bodily needs, but, also, now farther promised to assist him in procuring a +large permanent supply of water, as well as some sails and rigging; and, though +it would involve no small embarrassment to himself, yet he would spare three of +his best seamen for temporary deck officers; so that without delay the ship +might proceed to Conception, there fully to refit for Lima, her destined port. +</p> + +<p> +Such generosity was not without its effect, even upon the invalid. His face +lighted up; eager and hectic, he met the honest glance of his visitor. With +gratitude he seemed overcome. +</p> + +<p> +“This excitement is bad for master,” whispered the servant, taking +his arm, and with soothing words gently drawing him aside. +</p> + +<p> +When Don Benito returned, the American was pained to observe that his +hopefulness, like the sudden kindling in his cheek, was but febrile and +transient. +</p> + +<p> +Ere long, with a joyless mien, looking up towards the poop, the host invited +his guest to accompany him there, for the benefit of what little breath of wind +might be stirring. +</p> + +<p> +As, during the telling of the story, Captain Delano had once or twice started +at the occasional cymballing of the hatchet-polishers, wondering why such an +interruption should be allowed, especially in that part of the ship, and in the +ears of an invalid; and moreover, as the hatchets had anything but an +attractive look, and the handlers of them still less so, it was, therefore, to +tell the truth, not without some lurking reluctance, or even shrinking, it may +be, that Captain Delano, with apparent complaisance, acquiesced in his +host’s invitation. The more so, since, with an untimely caprice of +punctilio, rendered distressing by his cadaverous aspect, Don Benito, with +Castilian bows, solemnly insisted upon his guest’s preceding him up the +ladder leading to the elevation; where, one on each side of the last step, sat +for armorial supporters and sentries two of the ominous file. Gingerly enough +stepped good Captain Delano between them, and in the instant of leaving them +behind, like one running the gauntlet, he felt an apprehensive twitch in the +calves of his legs. +</p> + +<p> +But when, facing about, he saw the whole file, like so many organ-grinders, +still stupidly intent on their work, unmindful of everything beside, he could +not but smile at his late fidgety panic. +</p> + +<p> +Presently, while standing with his host, looking forward upon the decks below, +he was struck by one of those instances of insubordination previously alluded +to. Three black boys, with two Spanish boys, were sitting together on the +hatches, scraping a rude wooden platter, in which some scanty mess had recently +been cooked. Suddenly, one of the black boys, enraged at a word dropped by one +of his white companions, seized a knife, and, though called to forbear by one +of the oakum-pickers, struck the lad over the head, inflicting a gash from +which blood flowed. +</p> + +<p> +In amazement, Captain Delano inquired what this meant. To which the pale Don +Benito dully muttered, that it was merely the sport of the lad. +</p> + +<p> +“Pretty serious sport, truly,” rejoined Captain Delano. “Had +such a thing happened on board the Bachelor’s Delight, instant punishment +would have followed.” +</p> + +<p> +At these words the Spaniard turned upon the American one of his sudden, +staring, half-lunatic looks; then, relapsing into his torpor, answered, +“Doubtless, doubtless, Señor.” +</p> + +<p> +Is it, thought Captain Delano, that this hapless man is one of those paper +captains I’ve known, who by policy wink at what by power they cannot put +down? I know no sadder sight than a commander who has little of command but the +name. +</p> + +<p> +“I should think, Don Benito,” he now said, glancing towards the +oakum-picker who had sought to interfere with the boys, “that you would +find it advantageous to keep all your blacks employed, especially the younger +ones, no matter at what useless task, and no matter what happens to the ship. +Why, even with my little band, I find such a course indispensable. I once kept +a crew on my quarter-deck thrumming mats for my cabin, when, for three days, I +had given up my ship—mats, men, and all—for a speedy loss, owing to +the violence of a gale, in which we could do nothing but helplessly drive +before it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Doubtless, doubtless,” muttered Don Benito. +</p> + +<p> +“But,” continued Captain Delano, again glancing upon the +oakum-pickers and then at the hatchet-polishers, near by, “I see you keep +some, at least, of your host employed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” was again the vacant response. +</p> + +<p> +“Those old men there, shaking their pows from their pulpits,” +continued Captain Delano, pointing to the oakum-pickers, “seem to act the +part of old dominies to the rest, little heeded as their admonitions are at +times. Is this voluntary on their part, Don Benito, or have you appointed them +shepherds to your flock of black sheep?” +</p> + +<p> +“What posts they fill, I appointed them,” rejoined the Spaniard, in +an acrid tone, as if resenting some supposed satiric reflection. +</p> + +<p> +“And these others, these Ashantee conjurors here,” continued +Captain Delano, rather uneasily eying the brandished steel of the +hatchet-polishers, where, in spots, it had been brought to a shine, “this +seems a curious business they are at, Don Benito?” +</p> + +<p> +“In the gales we met,” answered the Spaniard, “what of our +general cargo was not thrown overboard was much damaged by the brine. Since +coming into calm weather, I have had several cases of knives and hatchets daily +brought up for overhauling and cleaning.” +</p> + +<p> +“A prudent idea, Don Benito. You are part owner of ship and cargo, I +presume; but none of the slaves, perhaps?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am owner of all you see,” impatiently returned Don Benito, +“except the main company of blacks, who belonged to my late friend, +Alexandro Aranda.” +</p> + +<p> +As he mentioned this name, his air was heart-broken; his knees shook; his +servant supported him. +</p> + +<p> +Thinking he divined the cause of such unusual emotion, to confirm his surmise, +Captain Delano, after a pause, said: “And may I ask, Don Benito, +whether—since awhile ago you spoke of some cabin passengers—the +friend, whose loss so afflicts you, at the outset of the voyage accompanied his +blacks?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“But died of the fever?” +</p> + +<p> +“Died of the fever. Oh, could I but—” +</p> + +<p> +Again quivering, the Spaniard paused. +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me,” said Captain Delano, lowly, “but I think that, +by a sympathetic experience, I conjecture, Don Benito, what it is that gives +the keener edge to your grief. It was once my hard fortune to lose, at sea, a +dear friend, my own brother, then supercargo. Assured of the welfare of his +spirit, its departure I could have borne like a man; but that honest eye, that +honest hand—both of which had so often met mine—and that warm +heart; all, all—like scraps to the dogs—to throw all to the sharks! +It was then I vowed never to have for fellow-voyager a man I loved, unless, +unbeknown to him, I had provided every requisite, in case of a fatality, for +embalming his mortal part for interment on shore. Were your friend’s +remains now on board this ship, Don Benito, not thus strangely would the +mention of his name affect you.” +</p> + +<p> +“On board this ship?” echoed the Spaniard. Then, with horrified +gestures, as directed against some spectre, he unconsciously fell into the +ready arms of his attendant, who, with a silent appeal toward Captain Delano, +seemed beseeching him not again to broach a theme so unspeakably distressing to +his master. +</p> + +<p> +This poor fellow now, thought the pained American, is the victim of that sad +superstition which associates goblins with the deserted body of man, as ghosts +with an abandoned house. How unlike are we made! What to me, in like case, +would have been a solemn satisfaction, the bare suggestion, even, terrifies the +Spaniard into this trance. Poor Alexandro Aranda! what would you say could you +here see your friend—who, on former voyages, when you, for months, were +left behind, has, I dare say, often longed, and longed, for one peep at +you—now transported with terror at the least thought of having you anyway +nigh him. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment, with a dreary grave-yard toll, betokening a flaw, the +ship’s forecastle bell, smote by one of the grizzled oakum-pickers, +proclaimed ten o’clock, through the leaden calm; when Captain +Delano’s attention was caught by the moving figure of a gigantic black, +emerging from the general crowd below, and slowly advancing towards the +elevated poop. An iron collar was about his neck, from which depended a chain, +thrice wound round his body; the terminating links padlocked together at a +broad band of iron, his girdle. +</p> + +<p> +“How like a mute Atufal moves,” murmured the servant. +</p> + +<p> +The black mounted the steps of the poop, and, like a brave prisoner, brought up +to receive sentence, stood in unquailing muteness before Don Benito, now +recovered from his attack. +</p> + +<p> +At the first glimpse of his approach, Don Benito had started, a resentful +shadow swept over his face; and, as with the sudden memory of bootless rage, +his white lips glued together. +</p> + +<p> +This is some mulish mutineer, thought Captain Delano, surveying, not without a +mixture of admiration, the colossal form of the negro. +</p> + +<p> +“See, he waits your question, master,” said the servant. +</p> + +<p> +Thus reminded, Don Benito, nervously averting his glance, as if shunning, by +anticipation, some rebellious response, in a disconcerted voice, thus +spoke:— +</p> + +<p> +“Atufal, will you ask my pardon, now?” +</p> + +<p> +The black was silent. +</p> + +<p> +“Again, master,” murmured the servant, with bitter upbraiding +eyeing his countryman, “Again, master; he will bend to master yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Answer,” said Don Benito, still averting his glance, “say +but the one word, <i>pardon</i>, and your chains shall be off.” +</p> + +<p> +Upon this, the black, slowly raising both arms, let them lifelessly fall, his +links clanking, his head bowed; as much as to say, “no, I am +content.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go,” said Don Benito, with inkept and unknown emotion. +</p> + +<p> +Deliberately as he had come, the black obeyed. +</p> + +<p> +“Excuse me, Don Benito,” said Captain Delano, “but this scene +surprises me; what means it, pray?” +</p> + +<p> +“It means that that negro alone, of all the band, has given me peculiar +cause of offense. I have put him in chains; I—” +</p> + +<p> +Here he paused; his hand to his head, as if there were a swimming there, or a +sudden bewilderment of memory had come over him; but meeting his +servant’s kindly glance seemed reassured, and proceeded:— +</p> + +<p> +“I could not scourge such a form. But I told him he must ask my pardon. +As yet he has not. At my command, every two hours he stands before me.” +</p> + +<p> +“And how long has this been?” +</p> + +<p> +“Some sixty days.” +</p> + +<p> +“And obedient in all else? And respectful?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Upon my conscience, then,” exclaimed Captain Delano, impulsively, +“he has a royal spirit in him, this fellow.” +</p> + +<p> +“He may have some right to it,” bitterly returned Don Benito, +“he says he was king in his own land.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said the servant, entering a word, “those slits in +Atufal’s ears once held wedges of gold; but poor Babo here, in his own +land, was only a poor slave; a black man’s slave was Babo, who now is the +white’s.” +</p> + +<p> +Somewhat annoyed by these conversational familiarities, Captain Delano turned +curiously upon the attendant, then glanced inquiringly at his master; but, as +if long wonted to these little informalities, neither master nor man seemed to +understand him. +</p> + +<p> +“What, pray, was Atufal’s offense, Don Benito?” asked Captain +Delano; “if it was not something very serious, take a fool’s +advice, and, in view of his general docility, as well as in some natural +respect for his spirit, remit him his penalty.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, master never will do that,” here murmured the servant to +himself, “proud Atufal must first ask master’s pardon. The slave +there carries the padlock, but master here carries the key.” +</p> + +<p> +His attention thus directed, Captain Delano now noticed for the first, that, +suspended by a slender silken cord, from Don Benito’s neck, hung a key. +At once, from the servant’s muttered syllables, divining the key’s +purpose, he smiled, and said:—“So, Don Benito—padlock and +key—significant symbols, truly.” +</p> + +<p> +Biting his lip, Don Benito faltered. +</p> + +<p> +Though the remark of Captain Delano, a man of such native simplicity as to be +incapable of satire or irony, had been dropped in playful allusion to the +Spaniard’s singularly evidenced lordship over the black; yet the +hypochondriac seemed some way to have taken it as a malicious reflection upon +his confessed inability thus far to break down, at least, on a verbal summons, +the entrenched will of the slave. Deploring this supposed misconception, yet +despairing of correcting it, Captain Delano shifted the subject; but finding +his companion more than ever withdrawn, as if still sourly digesting the lees +of the presumed affront above-mentioned, by-and-by Captain Delano likewise +became less talkative, oppressed, against his own will, by what seemed the +secret vindictiveness of the morbidly sensitive Spaniard. But the good sailor, +himself of a quite contrary disposition, refrained, on his part, alike from the +appearance as from the feeling of resentment, and if silent, was only so from +contagion. +</p> + +<p> +Presently the Spaniard, assisted by his servant somewhat discourteously crossed +over from his guest; a procedure which, sensibly enough, might have been +allowed to pass for idle caprice of ill-humor, had not master and man, +lingering round the corner of the elevated skylight, began whispering together +in low voices. This was unpleasing. And more; the moody air of the Spaniard, +which at times had not been without a sort of valetudinarian stateliness, now +seemed anything but dignified; while the menial familiarity of the servant lost +its original charm of simple-hearted attachment. +</p> + +<p> +In his embarrassment, the visitor turned his face to the other side of the +ship. By so doing, his glance accidentally fell on a young Spanish sailor, a +coil of rope in his hand, just stepped from the deck to the first round of the +mizzen-rigging. Perhaps the man would not have been particularly noticed, were +it not that, during his ascent to one of the yards, he, with a sort of covert +intentness, kept his eye fixed on Captain Delano, from whom, presently, it +passed, as if by a natural sequence, to the two whisperers. +</p> + +<p> +His own attention thus redirected to that quarter, Captain Delano gave a slight +start. From something in Don Benito’s manner just then, it seemed as if +the visitor had, at least partly, been the subject of the withdrawn +consultation going on—a conjecture as little agreeable to the guest as it +was little flattering to the host. +</p> + +<p> +The singular alternations of courtesy and ill-breeding in the Spanish captain +were unaccountable, except on one of two suppositions—innocent lunacy, or +wicked imposture. +</p> + +<p> +But the first idea, though it might naturally have occurred to an indifferent +observer, and, in some respect, had not hitherto been wholly a stranger to +Captain Delano’s mind, yet, now that, in an incipient way, he began to +regard the stranger’s conduct something in the light of an intentional +affront, of course the idea of lunacy was virtually vacated. But if not a +lunatic, what then? Under the circumstances, would a gentleman, nay, any honest +boor, act the part now acted by his host? The man was an impostor. Some +low-born adventurer, masquerading as an oceanic grandee; yet so ignorant of the +first requisites of mere gentlemanhood as to be betrayed into the present +remarkable indecorum. That strange ceremoniousness, too, at other times +evinced, seemed not uncharacteristic of one playing a part above his real +level. Benito Cereno—Don Benito Cereno—a sounding name. One, too, +at that period, not unknown, in the surname, to super-cargoes and sea captains +trading along the Spanish Main, as belonging to one of the most enterprising +and extensive mercantile families in all those provinces; several members of it +having titles; a sort of Castilian Rothschild, with a noble brother, or cousin, +in every great trading town of South America. The alleged Don Benito was in +early manhood, about twenty-nine or thirty. To assume a sort of roving +cadetship in the maritime affairs of such a house, what more likely scheme for +a young knave of talent and spirit? But the Spaniard was a pale invalid. Never +mind. For even to the degree of simulating mortal disease, the craft of some +tricksters had been known to attain. To think that, under the aspect of +infantile weakness, the most savage energies might be couched—those +velvets of the Spaniard but the silky paw to his fangs. +</p> + +<p> +From no train of thought did these fancies come; not from within, but from +without; suddenly, too, and in one throng, like hoar frost; yet as soon to +vanish as the mild sun of Captain Delano’s good-nature regained its +meridian. +</p> + +<p> +Glancing over once more towards his host—whose side-face, revealed above +the skylight, was now turned towards him—he was struck by the profile, +whose clearness of cut was refined by the thinness, incident to ill-health, as +well as ennobled about the chin by the beard. Away with suspicion. He was a +true off-shoot of a true hidalgo Cereno. +</p> + +<p> +Relieved by these and other better thoughts, the visitor, lightly humming a +tune, now began indifferently pacing the poop, so as not to betray to Don +Benito that he had at all mistrusted incivility, much less duplicity; for such +mistrust would yet be proved illusory, and by the event; though, for the +present, the circumstance which had provoked that distrust remained +unexplained. But when that little mystery should have been cleared up, Captain +Delano thought he might extremely regret it, did he allow Don Benito to become +aware that he had indulged in ungenerous surmises. In short, to the +Spaniard’s black-letter text, it was best, for awhile, to leave open +margin. +</p> + +<p> +Presently, his pale face twitching and overcast, the Spaniard, still supported +by his attendant, moved over towards his guest, when, with even more than his +usual embarrassment, and a strange sort of intriguing intonation in his husky +whisper, the following conversation began:— +</p> + +<p> +“Señor, may I ask how long you have lain at this isle?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but a day or two, Don Benito.” +</p> + +<p> +“And from what port are you last?” +</p> + +<p> +“Canton.” +</p> + +<p> +“And there, Señor, you exchanged your sealskins for teas and silks, I +think you said?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Silks, mostly.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the balance you took in specie, perhaps?” +</p> + +<p> +Captain Delano, fidgeting a little, answered— +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; some silver; not a very great deal, though.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah—well. May I ask how many men have you, Señor?” +</p> + +<p> +Captain Delano slightly started, but answered— +</p> + +<p> +“About five-and-twenty, all told.” +</p> + +<p> +“And at present, Señor, all on board, I suppose?” +</p> + +<p> +“All on board, Don Benito,” replied the Captain, now with +satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +“And will be to-night, Señor?” +</p> + +<p> +At this last question, following so many pertinacious ones, for the soul of him +Captain Delano could not but look very earnestly at the questioner, who, +instead of meeting the glance, with every token of craven discomposure dropped +his eyes to the deck; presenting an unworthy contrast to his servant, who, just +then, was kneeling at his feet, adjusting a loose shoe-buckle; his disengaged +face meantime, with humble curiosity, turned openly up into his master’s +downcast one. +</p> + +<p> +The Spaniard, still with a guilty shuffle, repeated his question: +</p> + +<p> +“And—and will be to-night, Señor?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, for aught I know,” returned Captain Delano—“but +nay,” rallying himself into fearless truth, “some of them talked of +going off on another fishing party about midnight.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your ships generally go—go more or less armed, I believe, +Señor?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, a six-pounder or two, in case of emergency,” was the +intrepidly indifferent reply, “with a small stock of muskets, +sealing-spears, and cutlasses, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +As he thus responded, Captain Delano again glanced at Don Benito, but the +latter’s eyes were averted; while abruptly and awkwardly shifting the +subject, he made some peevish allusion to the calm, and then, without apology, +once more, with his attendant, withdrew to the opposite bulwarks, where the +whispering was resumed. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment, and ere Captain Delano could cast a cool thought upon what had +just passed, the young Spanish sailor, before mentioned, was seen descending +from the rigging. In act of stooping over to spring inboard to the deck, his +voluminous, unconfined frock, or shirt, of coarse woolen, much spotted with +tar, opened out far down the chest, revealing a soiled under garment of what +seemed the finest linen, edged, about the neck, with a narrow blue ribbon, +sadly faded and worn. At this moment the young sailor’s eye was again +fixed on the whisperers, and Captain Delano thought he observed a lurking +significance in it, as if silent signs, of some Freemason sort, had that +instant been interchanged. +</p> + +<p> +This once more impelled his own glance in the direction of Don Benito, and, as +before, he could not but infer that himself formed the subject of the +conference. He paused. The sound of the hatchet-polishing fell on his ears. He +cast another swift side-look at the two. They had the air of conspirators. In +connection with the late questionings, and the incident of the young sailor, +these things now begat such return of involuntary suspicion, that the singular +guilelessness of the American could not endure it. Plucking up a gay and +humorous expression, he crossed over to the two rapidly, +saying:—“Ha, Don Benito, your black here seems high in your trust; +a sort of privy-counselor, in fact.” +</p> + +<p> +Upon this, the servant looked up with a good-natured grin, but the master +started as from a venomous bite. It was a moment or two before the Spaniard +sufficiently recovered himself to reply; which he did, at last, with cold +constraint:—“Yes, Señor, I have trust in Babo.” +</p> + +<p> +Here Babo, changing his previous grin of mere animal humor into an intelligent +smile, not ungratefully eyed his master. +</p> + +<p> +Finding that the Spaniard now stood silent and reserved, as if involuntarily, +or purposely giving hint that his guest’s proximity was inconvenient just +then, Captain Delano, unwilling to appear uncivil even to incivility itself, +made some trivial remark and moved off; again and again turning over in his +mind the mysterious demeanor of Don Benito Cereno. +</p> + +<p> +He had descended from the poop, and, wrapped in thought, was passing near a +dark hatchway, leading down into the steerage, when, perceiving motion there, +he looked to see what moved. The same instant there was a sparkle in the +shadowy hatchway, and he saw one of the Spanish sailors, prowling there +hurriedly placing his hand in the bosom of his frock, as if hiding something. +Before the man could have been certain who it was that was passing, he slunk +below out of sight. But enough was seen of him to make it sure that he was the +same young sailor before noticed in the rigging. +</p> + +<p> +What was that which so sparkled? thought Captain Delano. It was no +lamp—no match—no live coal. Could it have been a jewel? But how +come sailors with jewels?—or with silk-trimmed under-shirts either? Has +he been robbing the trunks of the dead cabin-passengers? But if so, he would +hardly wear one of the stolen articles on board ship here. Ah, ah—if, +now, that was, indeed, a secret sign I saw passing between this suspicious +fellow and his captain awhile since; if I could only be certain that, in my +uneasiness, my senses did not deceive me, then— +</p> + +<p> +Here, passing from one suspicious thing to another, his mind revolved the +strange questions put to him concerning his ship. +</p> + +<p> +By a curious coincidence, as each point was recalled, the black wizards of +Ashantee would strike up with their hatchets, as in ominous comment on the +white stranger’s thoughts. Pressed by such enigmas and portents, it would +have been almost against nature, had not, even into the least distrustful +heart, some ugly misgivings obtruded. +</p> + +<p> +Observing the ship, now helplessly fallen into a current, with enchanted sails, +drifting with increased rapidity seaward; and noting that, from a lately +intercepted projection of the land, the sealer was hidden, the stout mariner +began to quake at thoughts which he barely durst confess to himself. Above all, +he began to feel a ghostly dread of Don Benito. And yet, when he roused +himself, dilated his chest, felt himself strong on his legs, and coolly +considered it—what did all these phantoms amount to? +</p> + +<p> +Had the Spaniard any sinister scheme, it must have reference not so much to him +(Captain Delano) as to his ship (the Bachelor’s Delight). Hence the +present drifting away of the one ship from the other, instead of favoring any +such possible scheme, was, for the time, at least, opposed to it. Clearly any +suspicion, combining such contradictions, must need be delusive. Beside, was it +not absurd to think of a vessel in distress—a vessel by sickness almost +dismanned of her crew—a vessel whose inmates were parched for +water—was it not a thousand times absurd that such a craft should, at +present, be of a piratical character; or her commander, either for himself or +those under him, cherish any desire but for speedy relief and refreshment? But +then, might not general distress, and thirst in particular, be affected? And +might not that same undiminished Spanish crew, alleged to have perished off to +a remnant, be at that very moment lurking in the hold? On heart-broken pretense +of entreating a cup of cold water, fiends in human form had got into lonely +dwellings, nor retired until a dark deed had been done. And among the Malay +pirates, it was no unusual thing to lure ships after them into their +treacherous harbors, or entice boarders from a declared enemy at sea, by the +spectacle of thinly manned or vacant decks, beneath which prowled a hundred +spears with yellow arms ready to upthrust them through the mats. Not that +Captain Delano had entirely credited such things. He had heard of +them—and now, as stories, they recurred. The present destination of the +ship was the anchorage. There she would be near his own vessel. Upon gaining +that vicinity, might not the San Dominick, like a slumbering volcano, suddenly +let loose energies now hid? +</p> + +<p> +He recalled the Spaniard’s manner while telling his story. There was a +gloomy hesitancy and subterfuge about it. It was just the manner of one making +up his tale for evil purposes, as he goes. But if that story was not true, what +was the truth? That the ship had unlawfully come into the Spaniard’s +possession? But in many of its details, especially in reference to the more +calamitous parts, such as the fatalities among the seamen, the consequent +prolonged beating about, the past sufferings from obstinate calms, and still +continued suffering from thirst; in all these points, as well as others, Don +Benito’s story had corroborated not only the wailing ejaculations of the +indiscriminate multitude, white and black, but likewise—what seemed +impossible to be counterfeit—by the very expression and play of every +human feature, which Captain Delano saw. If Don Benito’s story was, +throughout, an invention, then every soul on board, down to the youngest +negress, was his carefully drilled recruit in the plot: an incredible +inference. And yet, if there was ground for mistrusting his veracity, that +inference was a legitimate one. +</p> + +<p> +But those questions of the Spaniard. There, indeed, one might pause. Did they +not seem put with much the same object with which the burglar or assassin, by +day-time, reconnoitres the walls of a house? But, with ill purposes, to solicit +such information openly of the chief person endangered, and so, in effect, +setting him on his guard; how unlikely a procedure was that? Absurd, then, to +suppose that those questions had been prompted by evil designs. Thus, the same +conduct, which, in this instance, had raised the alarm, served to dispel it. In +short, scarce any suspicion or uneasiness, however apparently reasonable at the +time, which was not now, with equal apparent reason, dismissed. +</p> + +<p> +At last he began to laugh at his former forebodings; and laugh at the strange +ship for, in its aspect, someway siding with them, as it were; and laugh, too, +at the odd-looking blacks, particularly those old scissors-grinders, the +Ashantees; and those bed-ridden old knitting women, the oakum-pickers; and +almost at the dark Spaniard himself, the central hobgoblin of all. +</p> + +<p> +For the rest, whatever in a serious way seemed enigmatical, was now +good-naturedly explained away by the thought that, for the most part, the poor +invalid scarcely knew what he was about; either sulking in black vapors, or +putting idle questions without sense or object. Evidently for the present, the +man was not fit to be intrusted with the ship. On some benevolent plea +withdrawing the command from him, Captain Delano would yet have to send her to +Conception, in charge of his second mate, a worthy person and good +navigator—a plan not more convenient for the San Dominick than for Don +Benito; for, relieved from all anxiety, keeping wholly to his cabin, the sick +man, under the good nursing of his servant, would, probably, by the end of the +passage, be in a measure restored to health, and with that he should also be +restored to authority. +</p> + +<p> +Such were the American’s thoughts. They were tranquilizing. There was a +difference between the idea of Don Benito’s darkly pre-ordaining Captain +Delano’s fate, and Captain Delano’s lightly arranging Don +Benito’s. Nevertheless, it was not without something of relief that the +good seaman presently perceived his whale-boat in the distance. Its absence had +been prolonged by unexpected detention at the sealer’s side, as well as +its returning trip lengthened by the continual recession of the goal. +</p> + +<p> +The advancing speck was observed by the blacks. Their shouts attracted the +attention of Don Benito, who, with a return of courtesy, approaching Captain +Delano, expressed satisfaction at the coming of some supplies, slight and +temporary as they must necessarily prove. +</p> + +<p> +Captain Delano responded; but while doing so, his attention was drawn to +something passing on the deck below: among the crowd climbing the landward +bulwarks, anxiously watching the coming boat, two blacks, to all appearances +accidentally incommoded by one of the sailors, violently pushed him aside, +which the sailor someway resenting, they dashed him to the deck, despite the +earnest cries of the oakum-pickers. +</p> + +<p> +“Don Benito,” said Captain Delano quickly, “do you see what +is going on there? Look!” +</p> + +<p> +But, seized by his cough, the Spaniard staggered, with both hands to his face, +on the point of falling. Captain Delano would have supported him, but the +servant was more alert, who, with one hand sustaining his master, with the +other applied the cordial. Don Benito restored, the black withdrew his support, +slipping aside a little, but dutifully remaining within call of a whisper. Such +discretion was here evinced as quite wiped away, in the visitor’s eyes, +any blemish of impropriety which might have attached to the attendant, from the +indecorous conferences before mentioned; showing, too, that if the servant were +to blame, it might be more the master’s fault than his own, since, when +left to himself, he could conduct thus well. +</p> + +<p> +His glance called away from the spectacle of disorder to the more pleasing one +before him, Captain Delano could not avoid again congratulating his host upon +possessing such a servant, who, though perhaps a little too forward now and +then, must upon the whole be invaluable to one in the invalid’s +situation. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, Don Benito,” he added, with a smile—“I should +like to have your man here, myself—what will you take for him? Would +fifty doubloons be any object?” +</p> + +<p> +“Master wouldn’t part with Babo for a thousand doubloons,” +murmured the black, overhearing the offer, and taking it in earnest, and, with +the strange vanity of a faithful slave, appreciated by his master, scorning to +hear so paltry a valuation put upon him by a stranger. But Don Benito, +apparently hardly yet completely restored, and again interrupted by his cough, +made but some broken reply. +</p> + +<p> +Soon his physical distress became so great, affecting his mind, too, +apparently, that, as if to screen the sad spectacle, the servant gently +conducted his master below. +</p> + +<p> +Left to himself, the American, to while away the time till his boat should +arrive, would have pleasantly accosted some one of the few Spanish seamen he +saw; but recalling something that Don Benito had said touching their ill +conduct, he refrained; as a shipmaster indisposed to countenance cowardice or +unfaithfulness in seamen. +</p> + +<p> +While, with these thoughts, standing with eye directed forward towards that +handful of sailors, suddenly he thought that one or two of them returned the +glance and with a sort of meaning. He rubbed his eyes, and looked again; but +again seemed to see the same thing. Under a new form, but more obscure than any +previous one, the old suspicions recurred, but, in the absence of Don Benito, +with less of panic than before. Despite the bad account given of the sailors, +Captain Delano resolved forthwith to accost one of them. Descending the poop, +he made his way through the blacks, his movement drawing a queer cry from the +oakum-pickers, prompted by whom, the negroes, twitching each other aside, +divided before him; but, as if curious to see what was the object of this +deliberate visit to their Ghetto, closing in behind, in tolerable order, +followed the white stranger up. His progress thus proclaimed as by mounted +kings-at-arms, and escorted as by a Caffre guard of honor, Captain Delano, +assuming a good-humored, off-handed air, continued to advance; now and then +saying a blithe word to the negroes, and his eye curiously surveying the white +faces, here and there sparsely mixed in with the blacks, like stray white pawns +venturously involved in the ranks of the chess-men opposed. +</p> + +<p> +While thinking which of them to select for his purpose, he chanced to observe a +sailor seated on the deck engaged in tarring the strap of a large block, a +circle of blacks squatted round him inquisitively eying the process. +</p> + +<p> +The mean employment of the man was in contrast with something superior in his +figure. His hand, black with continually thrusting it into the tar-pot held for +him by a negro, seemed not naturally allied to his face, a face which would +have been a very fine one but for its haggardness. Whether this haggardness had +aught to do with criminality, could not be determined; since, as intense heat +and cold, though unlike, produce like sensations, so innocence and guilt, when, +through casual association with mental pain, stamping any visible impress, use +one seal—a hacked one. +</p> + +<p> +Not again that this reflection occurred to Captain Delano at the time, +charitable man as he was. Rather another idea. Because observing so singular a +haggardness combined with a dark eye, averted as in trouble and shame, and then +again recalling Don Benito’s confessed ill opinion of his crew, +insensibly he was operated upon by certain general notions which, while +disconnecting pain and abashment from virtue, invariably link them with vice. +</p> + +<p> +If, indeed, there be any wickedness on board this ship, thought Captain Delano, +be sure that man there has fouled his hand in it, even as now he fouls it in +the pitch. I don’t like to accost him. I will speak to this other, this +old Jack here on the windlass. +</p> + +<p> +He advanced to an old Barcelona tar, in ragged red breeches and dirty +night-cap, cheeks trenched and bronzed, whiskers dense as thorn hedges. Seated +between two sleepy-looking Africans, this mariner, like his younger shipmate, +was employed upon some rigging—splicing a cable—the sleepy-looking +blacks performing the inferior function of holding the outer parts of the ropes +for him. +</p> + +<p> +Upon Captain Delano’s approach, the man at once hung his head below its +previous level; the one necessary for business. It appeared as if he desired to +be thought absorbed, with more than common fidelity, in his task. Being +addressed, he glanced up, but with what seemed a furtive, diffident air, which +sat strangely enough on his weather-beaten visage, much as if a grizzly bear, +instead of growling and biting, should simper and cast sheep’s eyes. He +was asked several questions concerning the voyage—questions purposely +referring to several particulars in Don Benito’s narrative, not +previously corroborated by those impulsive cries greeting the visitor on first +coming on board. The questions were briefly answered, confirming all that +remained to be confirmed of the story. The negroes about the windlass joined in +with the old sailor; but, as they became talkative, he by degrees became mute, +and at length quite glum, seemed morosely unwilling to answer more questions, +and yet, all the while, this ursine air was somehow mixed with his sheepish +one. +</p> + +<p> +Despairing of getting into unembarrassed talk with such a centaur, Captain +Delano, after glancing round for a more promising countenance, but seeing none, +spoke pleasantly to the blacks to make way for him; and so, amid various grins +and grimaces, returned to the poop, feeling a little strange at first, he could +hardly tell why, but upon the whole with regained confidence in Benito Cereno. +</p> + +<p> +How plainly, thought he, did that old whiskerando yonder betray a consciousness +of ill desert. No doubt, when he saw me coming, he dreaded lest I, apprised by +his Captain of the crew’s general misbehavior, came with sharp words for +him, and so down with his head. And yet—and yet, now that I think of it, +that very old fellow, if I err not, was one of those who seemed so earnestly +eying me here awhile since. Ah, these currents spin one’s head round +almost as much as they do the ship. Ha, there now’s a pleasant sort of +sunny sight; quite sociable, too. +</p> + +<p> +His attention had been drawn to a slumbering negress, partly disclosed through +the lacework of some rigging, lying, with youthful limbs carelessly disposed, +under the lee of the bulwarks, like a doe in the shade of a woodland rock. +Sprawling at her lapped breasts, was her wide-awake fawn, stark naked, its +black little body half lifted from the deck, crosswise with its dam’s; +its hands, like two paws, clambering upon her; its mouth and nose ineffectually +rooting to get at the mark; and meantime giving a vexatious half-grunt, +blending with the composed snore of the negress. +</p> + +<p> +The uncommon vigor of the child at length roused the mother. She started up, at +a distance facing Captain Delano. But as if not at all concerned at the +attitude in which she had been caught, delightedly she caught the child up, +with maternal transports, covering it with kisses. +</p> + +<p> +There’s naked nature, now; pure tenderness and love, thought Captain +Delano, well pleased. +</p> + +<p> +This incident prompted him to remark the other negresses more particularly than +before. He was gratified with their manners: like most uncivilized women, they +seemed at once tender of heart and tough of constitution; equally ready to die +for their infants or fight for them. Unsophisticated as leopardesses; loving as +doves. Ah! thought Captain Delano, these, perhaps, are some of the very women +whom Ledyard saw in Africa, and gave such a noble account of. +</p> + +<p> +These natural sights somehow insensibly deepened his confidence and ease. At +last he looked to see how his boat was getting on; but it was still pretty +remote. He turned to see if Don Benito had returned; but he had not. +</p> + +<p> +To change the scene, as well as to please himself with a leisurely observation +of the coming boat, stepping over into the mizzen-chains, he clambered his way +into the starboard quarter-gallery—one of those abandoned +Venetian-looking water-balconies previously mentioned—retreats cut off +from the deck. As his foot pressed the half-damp, half-dry sea-mosses matting +the place, and a chance phantom cats-paw—an islet of breeze, unheralded, +unfollowed—as this ghostly cats-paw came fanning his cheek; as his glance +fell upon the row of small, round dead-lights—all closed like coppered +eyes of the coffined—and the state-cabin door, once connecting with the +gallery, even as the dead-lights had once looked out upon it, but now calked +fast like a sarcophagus lid; and to a purple-black tarred-over, panel, +threshold, and post; and he bethought him of the time, when that state-cabin +and this state-balcony had heard the voices of the Spanish king’s +officers, and the forms of the Lima viceroy’s daughters had perhaps +leaned where he stood—as these and other images flitted through his mind, +as the cats-paw through the calm, gradually he felt rising a dreamy inquietude, +like that of one who alone on the prairie feels unrest from the repose of the +noon. +</p> + +<p> +He leaned against the carved balustrade, again looking off toward his boat; but +found his eye falling upon the ribbon grass, trailing along the ship’s +water-line, straight as a border of green box; and parterres of sea-weed, broad +ovals and crescents, floating nigh and far, with what seemed long formal alleys +between, crossing the terraces of swells, and sweeping round as if leading to +the grottoes below. And overhanging all was the balustrade by his arm, which, +partly stained with pitch and partly embossed with moss, seemed the charred +ruin of some summer-house in a grand garden long running to waste. +</p> + +<p> +Trying to break one charm, he was but becharmed anew. Though upon the wide sea, +he seemed in some far inland country; prisoner in some deserted château, left +to stare at empty grounds, and peer out at vague roads, where never wagon or +wayfarer passed. +</p> + +<p> +But these enchantments were a little disenchanted as his eye fell on the +corroded main-chains. Of an ancient style, massy and rusty in link, shackle and +bolt, they seemed even more fit for the ship’s present business than the +one for which she had been built. +</p> + +<p> +Presently he thought something moved nigh the chains. He rubbed his eyes, and +looked hard. Groves of rigging were about the chains; and there, peering from +behind a great stay, like an Indian from behind a hemlock, a Spanish sailor, a +marlingspike in his hand, was seen, who made what seemed an imperfect gesture +towards the balcony, but immediately as if alarmed by some advancing step along +the deck within, vanished into the recesses of the hempen forest, like a +poacher. +</p> + +<p> +What meant this? Something the man had sought to communicate, unbeknown to any +one, even to his captain. Did the secret involve aught unfavorable to his +captain? Were those previous misgivings of Captain Delano’s about to be +verified? Or, in his haunted mood at the moment, had some random, unintentional +motion of the man, while busy with the stay, as if repairing it, been mistaken +for a significant beckoning? +</p> + +<p> +Not unbewildered, again he gazed off for his boat. But it was temporarily +hidden by a rocky spur of the isle. As with some eagerness he bent forward, +watching for the first shooting view of its beak, the balustrade gave way +before him like charcoal. Had he not clutched an outreaching rope he would have +fallen into the sea. The crash, though feeble, and the fall, though hollow, of +the rotten fragments, must have been overheard. He glanced up. With sober +curiosity peering down upon him was one of the old oakum-pickers, slipped from +his perch to an outside boom; while below the old negro, and, invisible to him, +reconnoitering from a port-hole like a fox from the mouth of its den, crouched +the Spanish sailor again. From something suddenly suggested by the man’s +air, the mad idea now darted into Captain Delano’s mind, that Don +Benito’s plea of indisposition, in withdrawing below, was but a pretense: +that he was engaged there maturing his plot, of which the sailor, by some means +gaining an inkling, had a mind to warn the stranger against; incited, it may +be, by gratitude for a kind word on first boarding the ship. Was it from +foreseeing some possible interference like this, that Don Benito had, +beforehand, given such a bad character of his sailors, while praising the +negroes; though, indeed, the former seemed as docile as the latter the +contrary? The whites, too, by nature, were the shrewder race. A man with some +evil design, would he not be likely to speak well of that stupidity which was +blind to his depravity, and malign that intelligence from which it might not be +hidden? Not unlikely, perhaps. But if the whites had dark secrets concerning +Don Benito, could then Don Benito be any way in complicity with the blacks? But +they were too stupid. Besides, who ever heard of a white so far a renegade as +to apostatize from his very species almost, by leaguing in against it with +negroes? These difficulties recalled former ones. Lost in their mazes, Captain +Delano, who had now regained the deck, was uneasily advancing along it, when he +observed a new face; an aged sailor seated cross-legged near the main hatchway. +His skin was shrunk up with wrinkles like a pelican’s empty pouch; his +hair frosted; his countenance grave and composed. His hands were full of ropes, +which he was working into a large knot. Some blacks were about him obligingly +dipping the strands for him, here and there, as the exigencies of the operation +demanded. +</p> + +<p> +Captain Delano crossed over to him, and stood in silence surveying the knot; +his mind, by a not uncongenial transition, passing from its own entanglements +to those of the hemp. For intricacy, such a knot he had never seen in an +American ship, nor indeed any other. The old man looked like an Egyptian +priest, making Gordian knots for the temple of Ammon. The knot seemed a +combination of double-bowline-knot, treble-crown-knot, back-handed-well-knot, +knot-in-and-out-knot, and jamming-knot. +</p> + +<p> +At last, puzzled to comprehend the meaning of such a knot, Captain Delano +addressed the knotter:— +</p> + +<p> +“What are you knotting there, my man?” +</p> + +<p> +“The knot,” was the brief reply, without looking up. +</p> + +<p> +“So it seems; but what is it for?” +</p> + +<p> +“For some one else to undo,” muttered back the old man, plying his +fingers harder than ever, the knot being now nearly completed. +</p> + +<p> +While Captain Delano stood watching him, suddenly the old man threw the knot +towards him, saying in broken English—the first heard in the +ship—something to this effect: “Undo it, cut it, quick.” It +was said lowly, but with such condensation of rapidity, that the long, slow +words in Spanish, which had preceded and followed, almost operated as covers to +the brief English between. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment, knot in hand, and knot in head, Captain Delano stood mute; while, +without further heeding him, the old man was now intent upon other ropes. +Presently there was a slight stir behind Captain Delano. Turning, he saw the +chained negro, Atufal, standing quietly there. The next moment the old sailor +rose, muttering, and, followed by his subordinate negroes, removed to the +forward part of the ship, where in the crowd he disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +An elderly negro, in a clout like an infant’s, and with a pepper and salt +head, and a kind of attorney air, now approached Captain Delano. In tolerable +Spanish, and with a good-natured, knowing wink, he informed him that the old +knotter was simple-witted, but harmless; often playing his odd tricks. The +negro concluded by begging the knot, for of course the stranger would not care +to be troubled with it. Unconsciously, it was handed to him. With a sort of +congé, the negro received it, and, turning his back, ferreted into it like a +detective custom-house officer after smuggled laces. Soon, with some African +word, equivalent to pshaw, he tossed the knot overboard. +</p> + +<p> +All this is very queer now, thought Captain Delano, with a qualmish sort of +emotion; but, as one feeling incipient sea-sickness, he strove, by ignoring the +symptoms, to get rid of the malady. Once more he looked off for his boat. To +his delight, it was now again in view, leaving the rocky spur astern. +</p> + +<p> +The sensation here experienced, after at first relieving his uneasiness, with +unforeseen efficacy soon began to remove it. The less distant sight of that +well-known boat—showing it, not as before, half blended with the haze, +but with outline defined, so that its individuality, like a man’s, was +manifest; that boat, Rover by name, which, though now in strange seas, had +often pressed the beach of Captain Delano’s home, and, brought to its +threshold for repairs, had familiarly lain there, as a Newfoundland dog; the +sight of that household boat evoked a thousand trustful associations, which, +contrasted with previous suspicions, filled him not only with lightsome +confidence, but somehow with half humorous self-reproaches at his former lack +of it. +</p> + +<p> +“What, I, Amasa Delano—Jack of the Beach, as they called me when a +lad—I, Amasa; the same that, duck-satchel in hand, used to paddle along +the water-side to the school-house made from the old hulk—I, little Jack +of the Beach, that used to go berrying with cousin Nat and the rest; I to be +murdered here at the ends of the earth, on board a haunted pirate-ship by a +horrible Spaniard? Too nonsensical to think of! Who would murder Amasa Delano? +His conscience is clean. There is some one above. Fie, fie, Jack of the Beach! +you are a child indeed; a child of the second childhood, old boy; you are +beginning to dote and drule, I’m afraid.” +</p> + +<p> +Light of heart and foot, he stepped aft, and there was met by Don +Benito’s servant, who, with a pleasing expression, responsive to his own +present feelings, informed him that his master had recovered from the effects +of his coughing fit, and had just ordered him to go present his compliments to +his good guest, Don Amasa, and say that he (Don Benito) would soon have the +happiness to rejoin him. +</p> + +<p> +There now, do you mark that? again thought Captain Delano, walking the poop. +What a donkey I was. This kind gentleman who here sends me his kind +compliments, he, but ten minutes ago, dark-lantern in had, was dodging round +some old grind-stone in the hold, sharpening a hatchet for me, I thought. Well, +well; these long calms have a morbid effect on the mind, I’ve often +heard, though I never believed it before. Ha! glancing towards the boat; +there’s Rover; good dog; a white bone in her mouth. A pretty big bone +though, seems to me.—What? Yes, she has fallen afoul of the bubbling +tide-rip there. It sets her the other way, too, for the time. Patience. +</p> + +<p> +It was now about noon, though, from the grayness of everything, it seemed to be +getting towards dusk. +</p> + +<p> +The calm was confirmed. In the far distance, away from the influence of land, +the leaden ocean seemed laid out and leaded up, its course finished, soul gone, +defunct. But the current from landward, where the ship was, increased; silently +sweeping her further and further towards the tranced waters beyond. +</p> + +<p> +Still, from his knowledge of those latitudes, cherishing hopes of a breeze, and +a fair and fresh one, at any moment, Captain Delano, despite present prospects, +buoyantly counted upon bringing the San Dominick safely to anchor ere night. +The distance swept over was nothing; since, with a good wind, ten +minutes’ sailing would retrace more than sixty minutes, drifting. +Meantime, one moment turning to mark “Rover” fighting the tide-rip, +and the next to see Don Benito approaching, he continued walking the poop. +</p> + +<p> +Gradually he felt a vexation arising from the delay of his boat; this soon +merged into uneasiness; and at last—his eye falling continually, as from +a stage-box into the pit, upon the strange crowd before and below him, and, +by-and-by, recognizing there the face—now composed to +indifference—of the Spanish sailor who had seemed to beckon from the +main-chains—something of his old trepidations returned. +</p> + +<p> +Ah, thought he—gravely enough—this is like the ague: because it +went off, it follows not that it won’t come back. +</p> + +<p> +Though ashamed of the relapse, he could not altogether subdue it; and so, +exerting his good-nature to the utmost, insensibly he came to a compromise. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, this is a strange craft; a strange history, too, and strange folks on +board. But—nothing more. +</p> + +<p> +By way of keeping his mind out of mischief till the boat should arrive, he +tried to occupy it with turning over and over, in a purely speculative sort of +way, some lesser peculiarities of the captain and crew. Among others, four +curious points recurred: +</p> + +<p> +First, the affair of the Spanish lad assailed with a knife by the slave boy; an +act winked at by Don Benito. Second, the tyranny in Don Benito’s +treatment of Atufal, the black; as if a child should lead a bull of the Nile by +the ring in his nose. Third, the trampling of the sailor by the two negroes; a +piece of insolence passed over without so much as a reprimand. Fourth, the +cringing submission to their master, of all the ship’s underlings, mostly +blacks; as if by the least inadvertence they feared to draw down his despotic +displeasure. +</p> + +<p> +Coupling these points, they seemed somewhat contradictory. But what then, +thought Captain Delano, glancing towards his now nearing boat—what then? +Why, Don Benito is a very capricious commander. But he is not the first of the +sort I have seen; though it’s true he rather exceeds any other. But as a +nation—continued he in his reveries—these Spaniards are all an odd +set; the very word Spaniard has a curious, conspirator, Guy-Fawkish twang to +it. And yet, I dare say, Spaniards in the main are as good folks as any in +Duxbury, Massachusetts. Ah good! At last “Rover” has come. +</p> + +<p> +As, with its welcome freight, the boat touched the side, the oakum-pickers, +with venerable gestures, sought to restrain the blacks, who, at the sight of +three gurried water-casks in its bottom, and a pile of wilted pumpkins in its +bow, hung over the bulwarks in disorderly raptures. +</p> + +<p> +Don Benito, with his servant, now appeared; his coming, perhaps, hastened by +hearing the noise. Of him Captain Delano sought permission to serve out the +water, so that all might share alike, and none injure themselves by unfair +excess. But sensible, and, on Don Benito’s account, kind as this offer +was, it was received with what seemed impatience; as if aware that he lacked +energy as a commander, Don Benito, with the true jealousy of weakness, resented +as an affront any interference. So, at least, Captain Delano inferred. +</p> + +<p> +In another moment the casks were being hoisted in, when some of the eager +negroes accidentally jostled Captain Delano, where he stood by the gangway; so, +that, unmindful of Don Benito, yielding to the impulse of the moment, with +good-natured authority he bade the blacks stand back; to enforce his words +making use of a half-mirthful, half-menacing gesture. Instantly the blacks +paused, just where they were, each negro and negress suspended in his or her +posture, exactly as the word had found them—for a few seconds continuing +so—while, as between the responsive posts of a telegraph, an unknown +syllable ran from man to man among the perched oakum-pickers. While the +visitor’s attention was fixed by this scene, suddenly the +hatchet-polishers half rose, and a rapid cry came from Don Benito. +</p> + +<p> +Thinking that at the signal of the Spaniard he was about to be massacred, +Captain Delano would have sprung for his boat, but paused, as the +oakum-pickers, dropping down into the crowd with earnest exclamations, forced +every white and every negro back, at the same moment, with gestures friendly +and familiar, almost jocose, bidding him, in substance, not be a fool. +Simultaneously the hatchet-polishers resumed their seats, quietly as so many +tailors, and at once, as if nothing had happened, the work of hoisting in the +casks was resumed, whites and blacks singing at the tackle. +</p> + +<p> +Captain Delano glanced towards Don Benito. As he saw his meagre form in the act +of recovering itself from reclining in the servant’s arms, into which the +agitated invalid had fallen, he could not but marvel at the panic by which +himself had been surprised, on the darting supposition that such a commander, +who, upon a legitimate occasion, so trivial, too, as it now appeared, could +lose all self-command, was, with energetic iniquity, going to bring about his +murder. +</p> + +<p> +The casks being on deck, Captain Delano was handed a number of jars and cups by +one of the steward’s aids, who, in the name of his captain, entreated him +to do as he had proposed—dole out the water. He complied, with republican +impartiality as to this republican element, which always seeks one level, +serving the oldest white no better than the youngest black; excepting, indeed, +poor Don Benito, whose condition, if not rank, demanded an extra allowance. To +him, in the first place, Captain Delano presented a fair pitcher of the fluid; +but, thirsting as he was for it, the Spaniard quaffed not a drop until after +several grave bows and salutes. A reciprocation of courtesies which the +sight-loving Africans hailed with clapping of hands. +</p> + +<p> +Two of the less wilted pumpkins being reserved for the cabin table, the residue +were minced up on the spot for the general regalement. But the soft bread, +sugar, and bottled cider, Captain Delano would have given the whites alone, and +in chief Don Benito; but the latter objected; which disinterestedness not a +little pleased the American; and so mouthfuls all around were given alike to +whites and blacks; excepting one bottle of cider, which Babo insisted upon +setting aside for his master. +</p> + +<p> +Here it may be observed that as, on the first visit of the boat, the American +had not permitted his men to board the ship, neither did he now; being +unwilling to add to the confusion of the decks. +</p> + +<p> +Not uninfluenced by the peculiar good-humor at present prevailing, and for the +time oblivious of any but benevolent thoughts, Captain Delano, who, from recent +indications, counted upon a breeze within an hour or two at furthest, +dispatched the boat back to the sealer, with orders for all the hands that +could be spared immediately to set about rafting casks to the watering-place +and filling them. Likewise he bade word be carried to his chief officer, that +if, against present expectation, the ship was not brought to anchor by sunset, +he need be under no concern; for as there was to be a full moon that night, he +(Captain Delano) would remain on board ready to play the pilot, come the wind +soon or late. +</p> + +<p> +As the two Captains stood together, observing the departing boat—the +servant, as it happened, having just spied a spot on his master’s velvet +sleeve, and silently engaged rubbing it out—the American expressed his +regrets that the San Dominick had no boats; none, at least, but the unseaworthy +old hulk of the long-boat, which, warped as a camel’s skeleton in the +desert, and almost as bleached, lay pot-wise inverted amidships, one side a +little tipped, furnishing a subterraneous sort of den for family groups of the +blacks, mostly women and small children; who, squatting on old mats below, or +perched above in the dark dome, on the elevated seats, were descried, some +distance within, like a social circle of bats, sheltering in some friendly +cave; at intervals, ebon flights of naked boys and girls, three or four years +old, darting in and out of the den’s mouth. +</p> + +<p> +“Had you three or four boats now, Don Benito,” said Captain Delano, +“I think that, by tugging at the oars, your negroes here might help along +matters some. Did you sail from port without boats, Don Benito?” +</p> + +<p> +“They were stove in the gales, Señor.” +</p> + +<p> +“That was bad. Many men, too, you lost then. Boats and men. Those must +have been hard gales, Don Benito.” +</p> + +<p> +“Past all speech,” cringed the Spaniard. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, Don Benito,” continued his companion with increased +interest, “tell me, were these gales immediately off the pitch of Cape +Horn?” +</p> + +<p> +“Cape Horn?—who spoke of Cape Horn?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yourself did, when giving me an account of your voyage,” answered +Captain Delano, with almost equal astonishment at this eating of his own words, +even as he ever seemed eating his own heart, on the part of the Spaniard. +“You yourself, Don Benito, spoke of Cape Horn,” he emphatically +repeated. +</p> + +<p> +The Spaniard turned, in a sort of stooping posture, pausing an instant, as one +about to make a plunging exchange of elements, as from air to water. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment a messenger-boy, a white, hurried by, in the regular performance +of his function carrying the last expired half hour forward to the forecastle, +from the cabin time-piece, to have it struck at the ship’s large bell. +</p> + +<p> +“Master,” said the servant, discontinuing his work on the coat +sleeve, and addressing the rapt Spaniard with a sort of timid apprehensiveness, +as one charged with a duty, the discharge of which, it was foreseen, would +prove irksome to the very person who had imposed it, and for whose benefit it +was intended, “master told me never mind where he was, or how engaged, +always to remind him to a minute, when shaving-time comes. Miguel has gone to +strike the half-hour afternoon. It is <i>now</i>, master. Will master go into +the cuddy?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah—yes,” answered the Spaniard, starting, as from dreams +into realities; then turning upon Captain Delano, he said that ere long he +would resume the conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“Then if master means to talk more to Don Amasa,” said the servant, +“why not let Don Amasa sit by master in the cuddy, and master can talk, +and Don Amasa can listen, while Babo here lathers and strops.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Captain Delano, not unpleased with this sociable plan, +“yes, Don Benito, unless you had rather not, I will go with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be it so, Señor.” +</p> + +<p> +As the three passed aft, the American could not but think it another strange +instance of his host’s capriciousness, this being shaved with such +uncommon punctuality in the middle of the day. But he deemed it more than +likely that the servant’s anxious fidelity had something to do with the +matter; inasmuch as the timely interruption served to rally his master from the +mood which had evidently been coming upon him. +</p> + +<p> +The place called the cuddy was a light deck-cabin formed by the poop, a sort of +attic to the large cabin below. Part of it had formerly been the quarters of +the officers; but since their death all the partitioning had been thrown down, +and the whole interior converted into one spacious and airy marine hall; for +absence of fine furniture and picturesque disarray of odd appurtenances, +somewhat answering to the wide, cluttered hall of some eccentric +bachelor-squire in the country, who hangs his shooting-jacket and tobacco-pouch +on deer antlers, and keeps his fishing-rod, tongs, and walking-stick in the +same corner. +</p> + +<p> +The similitude was heightened, if not originally suggested, by glimpses of the +surrounding sea; since, in one aspect, the country and the ocean seem +cousins-german. +</p> + +<p> +The floor of the cuddy was matted. Overhead, four or five old muskets were +stuck into horizontal holes along the beams. On one side was a claw-footed old +table lashed to the deck; a thumbed missal on it, and over it a small, meagre +crucifix attached to the bulk-head. Under the table lay a dented cutlass or +two, with a hacked harpoon, among some melancholy old rigging, like a heap of +poor friars’ girdles. There were also two long, sharp-ribbed settees of +Malacca cane, black with age, and uncomfortable to look at as +inquisitors’ racks, with a large, misshapen arm-chair, which, furnished +with a rude barber’s crotch at the back, working with a screw, seemed +some grotesque engine of torment. A flag locker was in one corner, open, +exposing various colored bunting, some rolled up, others half unrolled, still +others tumbled. Opposite was a cumbrous washstand, of black mahogany, all of +one block, with a pedestal, like a font, and over it a railed shelf, containing +combs, brushes, and other implements of the toilet. A torn hammock of stained +grass swung near; the sheets tossed, and the pillow wrinkled up like a brow, as +if who ever slept here slept but illy, with alternate visitations of sad +thoughts and bad dreams. +</p> + +<p> +The further extremity of the cuddy, overhanging the ship’s stern, was +pierced with three openings, windows or port-holes, according as men or cannon +might peer, socially or unsocially, out of them. At present neither men nor +cannon were seen, though huge ring-bolts and other rusty iron fixtures of the +wood-work hinted of twenty-four-pounders. +</p> + +<p> +Glancing towards the hammock as he entered, Captain Delano said, “You +sleep here, Don Benito?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Señor, since we got into mild weather.” +</p> + +<p> +“This seems a sort of dormitory, sitting-room, sail-loft, chapel, armory, +and private closet all together, Don Benito,” added Captain Delano, +looking round. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Señor; events have not been favorable to much order in my +arrangements.” +</p> + +<p> +Here the servant, napkin on arm, made a motion as if waiting his master’s +good pleasure. Don Benito signified his readiness, when, seating him in the +Malacca arm-chair, and for the guest’s convenience drawing opposite one +of the settees, the servant commenced operations by throwing back his +master’s collar and loosening his cravat. +</p> + +<p> +There is something in the negro which, in a peculiar way, fits him for +avocations about one’s person. Most negroes are natural valets and +hair-dressers; taking to the comb and brush congenially as to the castinets, +and flourishing them apparently with almost equal satisfaction. There is, too, +a smooth tact about them in this employment, with a marvelous, noiseless, +gliding briskness, not ungraceful in its way, singularly pleasing to behold, +and still more so to be the manipulated subject of. And above all is the great +gift of good-humor. Not the mere grin or laugh is here meant. Those were +unsuitable. But a certain easy cheerfulness, harmonious in every glance and +gesture; as though God had set the whole negro to some pleasant tune. +</p> + +<p> +When to this is added the docility arising from the unaspiring contentment of a +limited mind and that susceptibility of blind attachment sometimes inhering in +indisputable inferiors, one readily perceives why those hypochondriacs, Johnson +and Byron—it may be, something like the hypochondriac Benito +Cereno—took to their hearts, almost to the exclusion of the entire white +race, their serving men, the negroes, Barber and Fletcher. But if there be that +in the negro which exempts him from the inflicted sourness of the morbid or +cynical mind, how, in his most prepossessing aspects, must he appear to a +benevolent one? When at ease with respect to exterior things, Captain +Delano’s nature was not only benign, but familiarly and humorously so. At +home, he had often taken rare satisfaction in sitting in his door, watching +some free man of color at his work or play. If on a voyage he chanced to have a +black sailor, invariably he was on chatty and half-gamesome terms with him. In +fact, like most men of a good, blithe heart, Captain Delano took to negroes, +not philanthropically, but genially, just as other men to Newfoundland dogs. +</p> + +<p> +Hitherto, the circumstances in which he found the San Dominick had repressed +the tendency. But in the cuddy, relieved from his former uneasiness, and, for +various reasons, more sociably inclined than at any previous period of the day, +and seeing the colored servant, napkin on arm, so debonair about his master, in +a business so familiar as that of shaving, too, all his old weakness for +negroes returned. +</p> + +<p> +Among other things, he was amused with an odd instance of the African love of +bright colors and fine shows, in the black’s informally taking from the +flag-locker a great piece of bunting of all hues, and lavishly tucking it under +his master’s chin for an apron. +</p> + +<p> +The mode of shaving among the Spaniards is a little different from what it is +with other nations. They have a basin, specifically called a barber’s +basin, which on one side is scooped out, so as accurately to receive the chin, +against which it is closely held in lathering; which is done, not with a brush, +but with soap dipped in the water of the basin and rubbed on the face. +</p> + +<p> +In the present instance salt-water was used for lack of better; and the parts +lathered were only the upper lip, and low down under the throat, all the rest +being cultivated beard. +</p> + +<p> +The preliminaries being somewhat novel to Captain Delano, he sat curiously +eying them, so that no conversation took place, nor, for the present, did Don +Benito appear disposed to renew any. +</p> + +<p> +Setting down his basin, the negro searched among the razors, as for the +sharpest, and having found it, gave it an additional edge by expertly strapping +it on the firm, smooth, oily skin of his open palm; he then made a gesture as +if to begin, but midway stood suspended for an instant, one hand elevating the +razor, the other professionally dabbling among the bubbling suds on the +Spaniard’s lank neck. Not unaffected by the close sight of the gleaming +steel, Don Benito nervously shuddered; his usual ghastliness was heightened by +the lather, which lather, again, was intensified in its hue by the contrasting +sootiness of the negro’s body. Altogether the scene was somewhat +peculiar, at least to Captain Delano, nor, as he saw the two thus postured, +could he resist the vagary, that in the black he saw a headsman, and in the +white a man at the block. But this was one of those antic conceits, appearing +and vanishing in a breath, from which, perhaps, the best regulated mind is not +always free. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime the agitation of the Spaniard had a little loosened the bunting from +around him, so that one broad fold swept curtain-like over the chair-arm to the +floor, revealing, amid a profusion of armorial bars and +ground-colors—black, blue, and yellow—a closed castle in a blood +red field diagonal with a lion rampant in a white. +</p> + +<p> +“The castle and the lion,” exclaimed Captain +Delano—“why, Don Benito, this is the flag of Spain you use here. +It’s well it’s only I, and not the King, that sees this,” he +added, with a smile, “but”—turning towards the +black—“it’s all one, I suppose, so the colors be gay;” +which playful remark did not fail somewhat to tickle the negro. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, master,” he said, readjusting the flag, and pressing the head +gently further back into the crotch of the chair; “now, master,” +and the steel glanced nigh the throat. +</p> + +<p> +Again Don Benito faintly shuddered. +</p> + +<p> +“You must not shake so, master. See, Don Amasa, master always shakes when +I shave him. And yet master knows I never yet have drawn blood, though +it’s true, if master will shake so, I may some of these times. Now +master,” he continued. “And now, Don Amasa, please go on with your +talk about the gale, and all that; master can hear, and, between times, master +can answer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah yes, these gales,” said Captain Delano; “but the more I +think of your voyage, Don Benito, the more I wonder, not at the gales, terrible +as they must have been, but at the disastrous interval following them. For +here, by your account, have you been these two months and more getting from +Cape Horn to St. Maria, a distance which I myself, with a good wind, have +sailed in a few days. True, you had calms, and long ones, but to be becalmed +for two months, that is, at least, unusual. Why, Don Benito, had almost any +other gentleman told me such a story, I should have been half disposed to a +little incredulity.” +</p> + +<p> +Here an involuntary expression came over the Spaniard, similar to that just +before on the deck, and whether it was the start he gave, or a sudden gawky +roll of the hull in the calm, or a momentary unsteadiness of the +servant’s hand, however it was, just then the razor drew blood, spots of +which stained the creamy lather under the throat: immediately the black barber +drew back his steel, and, remaining in his professional attitude, back to +Captain Delano, and face to Don Benito, held up the trickling razor, saying, +with a sort of half humorous sorrow, “See, master—you shook +so—here’s Babo’s first blood.” +</p> + +<p> +No sword drawn before James the First of England, no assassination in that +timid King’s presence, could have produced a more terrified aspect than +was now presented by Don Benito. +</p> + +<p> +Poor fellow, thought Captain Delano, so nervous he can’t even bear the +sight of barber’s blood; and this unstrung, sick man, is it credible that +I should have imagined he meant to spill all my blood, who can’t endure +the sight of one little drop of his own? Surely, Amasa Delano, you have been +beside yourself this day. Tell it not when you get home, sappy Amasa. Well, +well, he looks like a murderer, doesn’t he? More like as if himself were +to be done for. Well, well, this day’s experience shall be a good lesson. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime, while these things were running through the honest seaman’s +mind, the servant had taken the napkin from his arm, and to Don Benito had +said—“But answer Don Amasa, please, master, while I wipe this ugly +stuff off the razor, and strop it again.” +</p> + +<p> +As he said the words, his face was turned half round, so as to be alike visible +to the Spaniard and the American, and seemed, by its expression, to hint, that +he was desirous, by getting his master to go on with the conversation, +considerately to withdraw his attention from the recent annoying accident. As +if glad to snatch the offered relief, Don Benito resumed, rehearsing to Captain +Delano, that not only were the calms of unusual duration, but the ship had +fallen in with obstinate currents; and other things he added, some of which +were but repetitions of former statements, to explain how it came to pass that +the passage from Cape Horn to St. Maria had been so exceedingly long; now and +then, mingling with his words, incidental praises, less qualified than before, +to the blacks, for their general good conduct. These particulars were not given +consecutively, the servant, at convenient times, using his razor, and so, +between the intervals of shaving, the story and panegyric went on with more +than usual huskiness. +</p> + +<p> +To Captain Delano’s imagination, now again not wholly at rest, there was +something so hollow in the Spaniard’s manner, with apparently some +reciprocal hollowness in the servant’s dusky comment of silence, that the +idea flashed across him, that possibly master and man, for some unknown +purpose, were acting out, both in word and deed, nay, to the very tremor of Don +Benito’s limbs, some juggling play before him. Neither did the suspicion +of collusion lack apparent support, from the fact of those whispered +conferences before mentioned. But then, what could be the object of enacting +this play of the barber before him? At last, regarding the notion as a whimsy, +insensibly suggested, perhaps, by the theatrical aspect of Don Benito in his +harlequin ensign, Captain Delano speedily banished it. +</p> + +<p> +The shaving over, the servant bestirred himself with a small bottle of scented +waters, pouring a few drops on the head, and then diligently rubbing; the +vehemence of the exercise causing the muscles of his face to twitch rather +strangely. +</p> + +<p> +His next operation was with comb, scissors, and brush; going round and round, +smoothing a curl here, clipping an unruly whisker-hair there, giving a graceful +sweep to the temple-lock, with other impromptu touches evincing the hand of a +master; while, like any resigned gentleman in barber’s hands, Don Benito +bore all, much less uneasily, at least than he had done the razoring; indeed, +he sat so pale and rigid now, that the negro seemed a Nubian sculptor finishing +off a white statue-head. +</p> + +<p> +All being over at last, the standard of Spain removed, tumbled up, and tossed +back into the flag-locker, the negro’s warm breath blowing away any stray +hair, which might have lodged down his master’s neck; collar and cravat +readjusted; a speck of lint whisked off the velvet lapel; all this being done; +backing off a little space, and pausing with an expression of subdued +self-complacency, the servant for a moment surveyed his master, as, in toilet +at least, the creature of his own tasteful hands. +</p> + +<p> +Captain Delano playfully complimented him upon his achievement; at the same +time congratulating Don Benito. +</p> + +<p> +But neither sweet waters, nor shampooing, nor fidelity, nor sociality, +delighted the Spaniard. Seeing him relapsing into forbidding gloom, and still +remaining seated, Captain Delano, thinking that his presence was undesired just +then, withdrew, on pretense of seeing whether, as he had prophesied, any signs +of a breeze were visible. +</p> + +<p> +Walking forward to the main-mast, he stood awhile thinking over the scene, and +not without some undefined misgivings, when he heard a noise near the cuddy, +and turning, saw the negro, his hand to his cheek. Advancing, Captain Delano +perceived that the cheek was bleeding. He was about to ask the cause, when the +negro’s wailing soliloquy enlightened him. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, when will master get better from his sickness; only the sour heart +that sour sickness breeds made him serve Babo so; cutting Babo with the razor, +because, only by accident, Babo had given master one little scratch; and for +the first time in so many a day, too. Ah, ah, ah,” holding his hand to +his face. +</p> + +<p> +Is it possible, thought Captain Delano; was it to wreak in private his Spanish +spite against this poor friend of his, that Don Benito, by his sullen manner, +impelled me to withdraw? Ah this slavery breeds ugly passions in +man.—Poor fellow! +</p> + +<p> +He was about to speak in sympathy to the negro, but with a timid reluctance he +now re-entered the cuddy. +</p> + +<p> +Presently master and man came forth; Don Benito leaning on his servant as if +nothing had happened. +</p> + +<p> +But a sort of love-quarrel, after all, thought Captain Delano. +</p> + +<p> +He accosted Don Benito, and they slowly walked together. They had gone but a +few paces, when the steward—a tall, rajah-looking mulatto, orientally set +off with a pagoda turban formed by three or four Madras handkerchiefs wound +about his head, tier on tier—approaching with a saalam, announced lunch +in the cabin. +</p> + +<p> +On their way thither, the two captains were preceded by the mulatto, who, +turning round as he advanced, with continual smiles and bows, ushered them on, +a display of elegance which quite completed the insignificance of the small +bare-headed Babo, who, as if not unconscious of inferiority, eyed askance the +graceful steward. But in part, Captain Delano imputed his jealous watchfulness +to that peculiar feeling which the full-blooded African entertains for the +adulterated one. As for the steward, his manner, if not bespeaking much dignity +of self-respect, yet evidenced his extreme desire to please; which is doubly +meritorious, as at once Christian and Chesterfieldian. +</p> + +<p> +Captain Delano observed with interest that while the complexion of the mulatto +was hybrid, his physiognomy was European—classically so. +</p> + +<p> +“Don Benito,” whispered he, “I am glad to see this +usher-of-the-golden-rod of yours; the sight refutes an ugly remark once made to +me by a Barbadoes planter; that when a mulatto has a regular European face, +look out for him; he is a devil. But see, your steward here has features more +regular than King George’s of England; and yet there he nods, and bows, +and smiles; a king, indeed—the king of kind hearts and polite fellows. +What a pleasant voice he has, too?” +</p> + +<p> +“He has, Señor.” +</p> + +<p> +“But tell me, has he not, so far as you have known him, always proved a +good, worthy fellow?” said Captain Delano, pausing, while with a final +genuflexion the steward disappeared into the cabin; “come, for the reason +just mentioned, I am curious to know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Francesco is a good man,” a sort of sluggishly responded Don +Benito, like a phlegmatic appreciator, who would neither find fault nor +flatter. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, I thought so. For it were strange, indeed, and not very creditable +to us white-skins, if a little of our blood mixed with the African’s, +should, far from improving the latter’s quality, have the sad effect of +pouring vitriolic acid into black broth; improving the hue, perhaps, but not +the wholesomeness.” +</p> + +<p> +“Doubtless, doubtless, Señor, but”—glancing at +Babo—“not to speak of negroes, your planter’s remark I have +heard applied to the Spanish and Indian intermixtures in our provinces. But I +know nothing about the matter,” he listlessly added. +</p> + +<p> +And here they entered the cabin. +</p> + +<p> +The lunch was a frugal one. Some of Captain Delano’s fresh fish and +pumpkins, biscuit and salt beef, the reserved bottle of cider, and the San +Dominick’s last bottle of Canary. +</p> + +<p> +As they entered, Francesco, with two or three colored aids, was hovering over +the table giving the last adjustments. Upon perceiving their master they +withdrew, Francesco making a smiling congé, and the Spaniard, without +condescending to notice it, fastidiously remarking to his companion that he +relished not superfluous attendance. +</p> + +<p> +Without companions, host and guest sat down, like a childless married couple, +at opposite ends of the table, Don Benito waving Captain Delano to his place, +and, weak as he was, insisting upon that gentleman being seated before himself. +</p> + +<p> +The negro placed a rug under Don Benito’s feet, and a cushion behind his +back, and then stood behind, not his master’s chair, but Captain +Delano’s. At first, this a little surprised the latter. But it was soon +evident that, in taking his position, the black was still true to his master; +since by facing him he could the more readily anticipate his slightest want. +</p> + +<p> +“This is an uncommonly intelligent fellow of yours, Don Benito,” +whispered Captain Delano across the table. +</p> + +<p> +“You say true, Señor.” +</p> + +<p> +During the repast, the guest again reverted to parts of Don Benito’s +story, begging further particulars here and there. He inquired how it was that +the scurvy and fever should have committed such wholesale havoc upon the +whites, while destroying less than half of the blacks. As if this question +reproduced the whole scene of plague before the Spaniard’s eyes, +miserably reminding him of his solitude in a cabin where before he had had so +many friends and officers round him, his hand shook, his face became hueless, +broken words escaped; but directly the sane memory of the past seemed replaced +by insane terrors of the present. With starting eyes he stared before him at +vacancy. For nothing was to be seen but the hand of his servant pushing the +Canary over towards him. At length a few sips served partially to restore him. +He made random reference to the different constitution of races, enabling one +to offer more resistance to certain maladies than another. The thought was new +to his companion. +</p> + +<p> +Presently Captain Delano, intending to say something to his host concerning the +pecuniary part of the business he had undertaken for him, +especially—since he was strictly accountable to his owners—with +reference to the new suit of sails, and other things of that sort; and +naturally preferring to conduct such affairs in private, was desirous that the +servant should withdraw; imagining that Don Benito for a few minutes could +dispense with his attendance. He, however, waited awhile; thinking that, as the +conversation proceeded, Don Benito, without being prompted, would perceive the +propriety of the step. +</p> + +<p> +But it was otherwise. At last catching his host’s eye, Captain Delano, +with a slight backward gesture of his thumb, whispered, “Don Benito, +pardon me, but there is an interference with the full expression of what I have +to say to you.” +</p> + +<p> +Upon this the Spaniard changed countenance; which was imputed to his resenting +the hint, as in some way a reflection upon his servant. After a moment’s +pause, he assured his guest that the black’s remaining with them could be +of no disservice; because since losing his officers he had made Babo (whose +original office, it now appeared, had been captain of the slaves) not only his +constant attendant and companion, but in all things his confidant. +</p> + +<p> +After this, nothing more could be said; though, indeed, Captain Delano could +hardly avoid some little tinge of irritation upon being left ungratified in so +inconsiderable a wish, by one, too, for whom he intended such solid services. +But it is only his querulousness, thought he; and so filling his glass he +proceeded to business. +</p> + +<p> +The price of the sails and other matters was fixed upon. But while this was +being done, the American observed that, though his original offer of assistance +had been hailed with hectic animation, yet now when it was reduced to a +business transaction, indifference and apathy were betrayed. Don Benito, in +fact, appeared to submit to hearing the details more out of regard to common +propriety, than from any impression that weighty benefit to himself and his +voyage was involved. +</p> + +<p> +Soon, his manner became still more reserved. The effort was vain to seek to +draw him into social talk. Gnawed by his splenetic mood, he sat twitching his +beard, while to little purpose the hand of his servant, mute as that on the +wall, slowly pushed over the Canary. +</p> + +<p> +Lunch being over, they sat down on the cushioned transom; the servant placing a +pillow behind his master. The long continuance of the calm had now affected the +atmosphere. Don Benito sighed heavily, as if for breath. +</p> + +<p> +“Why not adjourn to the cuddy,” said Captain Delano; “there +is more air there.” But the host sat silent and motionless. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime his servant knelt before him, with a large fan of feathers. And +Francesco coming in on tiptoes, handed the negro a little cup of aromatic +waters, with which at intervals he chafed his master’s brow; smoothing +the hair along the temples as a nurse does a child’s. He spoke no word. +He only rested his eye on his master’s, as if, amid all Don +Benito’s distress, a little to refresh his spirit by the silent sight of +fidelity. +</p> + +<p> +Presently the ship’s bell sounded two o’clock; and through the +cabin windows a slight rippling of the sea was discerned; and from the desired +direction. +</p> + +<p> +“There,” exclaimed Captain Delano, “I told you so, Don +Benito, look!” +</p> + +<p> +He had risen to his feet, speaking in a very animated tone, with a view the +more to rouse his companion. But though the crimson curtain of the stern-window +near him that moment fluttered against his pale cheek, Don Benito seemed to +have even less welcome for the breeze than the calm. +</p> + +<p> +Poor fellow, thought Captain Delano, bitter experience has taught him that one +ripple does not make a wind, any more than one swallow a summer. But he is +mistaken for once. I will get his ship in for him, and prove it. +</p> + +<p> +Briefly alluding to his weak condition, he urged his host to remain quietly +where he was, since he (Captain Delano) would with pleasure take upon himself +the responsibility of making the best use of the wind. +</p> + +<p> +Upon gaining the deck, Captain Delano started at the unexpected figure of +Atufal, monumentally fixed at the threshold, like one of those sculptured +porters of black marble guarding the porches of Egyptian tombs. +</p> + +<p> +But this time the start was, perhaps, purely physical. Atufal’s presence, +singularly attesting docility even in sullenness, was contrasted with that of +the hatchet-polishers, who in patience evinced their industry; while both +spectacles showed, that lax as Don Benito’s general authority might be, +still, whenever he chose to exert it, no man so savage or colossal but must, +more or less, bow. +</p> + +<p> +Snatching a trumpet which hung from the bulwarks, with a free step Captain +Delano advanced to the forward edge of the poop, issuing his orders in his best +Spanish. The few sailors and many negroes, all equally pleased, obediently set +about heading the ship towards the harbor. +</p> + +<p> +While giving some directions about setting a lower stu’n’-sail, +suddenly Captain Delano heard a voice faithfully repeating his orders. Turning, +he saw Babo, now for the time acting, under the pilot, his original part of +captain of the slaves. This assistance proved valuable. Tattered sails and +warped yards were soon brought into some trim. And no brace or halyard was +pulled but to the blithe songs of the inspirited negroes. +</p> + +<p> +Good fellows, thought Captain Delano, a little training would make fine sailors +of them. Why see, the very women pull and sing too. These must be some of those +Ashantee negresses that make such capital soldiers, I’ve heard. But +who’s at the helm. I must have a good hand there. +</p> + +<p> +He went to see. +</p> + +<p> +The San Dominick steered with a cumbrous tiller, with large horizontal pullies +attached. At each pully-end stood a subordinate black, and between them, at the +tiller-head, the responsible post, a Spanish seaman, whose countenance evinced +his due share in the general hopefulness and confidence at the coming of the +breeze. +</p> + +<p> +He proved the same man who had behaved with so shame-faced an air on the +windlass. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,—it is you, my man,” exclaimed Captain +Delano—“well, no more sheep’s-eyes now;—look straight +forward and keep the ship so. Good hand, I trust? And want to get into the +harbor, don’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +The man assented with an inward chuckle, grasping the tiller-head firmly. Upon +this, unperceived by the American, the two blacks eyed the sailor intently. +</p> + +<p> +Finding all right at the helm, the pilot went forward to the forecastle, to see +how matters stood there. +</p> + +<p> +The ship now had way enough to breast the current. With the approach of +evening, the breeze would be sure to freshen. +</p> + +<p> +Having done all that was needed for the present, Captain Delano, giving his +last orders to the sailors, turned aft to report affairs to Don Benito in the +cabin; perhaps additionally incited to rejoin him by the hope of snatching a +moment’s private chat while the servant was engaged upon deck. +</p> + +<p> +From opposite sides, there were, beneath the poop, two approaches to the cabin; +one further forward than the other, and consequently communicating with a +longer passage. Marking the servant still above, Captain Delano, taking the +nighest entrance—the one last named, and at whose porch Atufal still +stood—hurried on his way, till, arrived at the cabin threshold, he paused +an instant, a little to recover from his eagerness. Then, with the words of his +intended business upon his lips, he entered. As he advanced toward the seated +Spaniard, he heard another footstep, keeping time with his. From the opposite +door, a salver in hand, the servant was likewise advancing. +</p> + +<p> +“Confound the faithful fellow,” thought Captain Delano; “what +a vexatious coincidence.” +</p> + +<p> +Possibly, the vexation might have been something different, were it not for the +brisk confidence inspired by the breeze. But even as it was, he felt a slight +twinge, from a sudden indefinite association in his mind of Babo with Atufal. +</p> + +<p> +“Don Benito,” said he, “I give you joy; the breeze will hold, +and will increase. By the way, your tall man and time-piece, Atufal, stands +without. By your order, of course?” +</p> + +<p> +Don Benito recoiled, as if at some bland satirical touch, delivered with such +adroit garnish of apparent good breeding as to present no handle for retort. +</p> + +<p> +He is like one flayed alive, thought Captain Delano; where may one touch him +without causing a shrink? +</p> + +<p> +The servant moved before his master, adjusting a cushion; recalled to civility, +the Spaniard stiffly replied: “you are right. The slave appears where you +saw him, according to my command; which is, that if at the given hour I am +below, he must take his stand and abide my coming.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah now, pardon me, but that is treating the poor fellow like an ex-king +indeed. Ah, Don Benito,” smiling, “for all the license you permit +in some things, I fear lest, at bottom, you are a bitter hard master.” +</p> + +<p> +Again Don Benito shrank; and this time, as the good sailor thought, from a +genuine twinge of his conscience. +</p> + +<p> +Again conversation became constrained. In vain Captain Delano called attention +to the now perceptible motion of the keel gently cleaving the sea; with +lack-lustre eye, Don Benito returned words few and reserved. +</p> + +<p> +By-and-by, the wind having steadily risen, and still blowing right into the +harbor bore the San Dominick swiftly on. Sounding a point of land, the sealer +at distance came into open view. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime Captain Delano had again repaired to the deck, remaining there some +time. Having at last altered the ship’s course, so as to give the reef a +wide berth, he returned for a few moments below. +</p> + +<p> +I will cheer up my poor friend, this time, thought he. +</p> + +<p> +“Better and better,” Don Benito, he cried as he blithely +re-entered: “there will soon be an end to your cares, at least for +awhile. For when, after a long, sad voyage, you know, the anchor drops into the +haven, all its vast weight seems lifted from the captain’s heart. We are +getting on famously, Don Benito. My ship is in sight. Look through this +side-light here; there she is; all a-taunt-o! The Bachelor’s Delight, my +good friend. Ah, how this wind braces one up. Come, you must take a cup of +coffee with me this evening. My old steward will give you as fine a cup as ever +any sultan tasted. What say you, Don Benito, will you?” +</p> + +<p> +At first, the Spaniard glanced feverishly up, casting a longing look towards +the sealer, while with mute concern his servant gazed into his face. Suddenly +the old ague of coldness returned, and dropping back to his cushions he was +silent. +</p> + +<p> +“You do not answer. Come, all day you have been my host; would you have +hospitality all on one side?” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot go,” was the response. +</p> + +<p> +“What? it will not fatigue you. The ships will lie together as near as +they can, without swinging foul. It will be little more than stepping from deck +to deck; which is but as from room to room. Come, come, you must not refuse +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot go,” decisively and repulsively repeated Don Benito. +</p> + +<p> +Renouncing all but the last appearance of courtesy, with a sort of cadaverous +sullenness, and biting his thin nails to the quick, he glanced, almost glared, +at his guest, as if impatient that a stranger’s presence should interfere +with the full indulgence of his morbid hour. Meantime the sound of the parted +waters came more and more gurglingly and merrily in at the windows; as +reproaching him for his dark spleen; as telling him that, sulk as he might, and +go mad with it, nature cared not a jot; since, whose fault was it, pray? +</p> + +<p> +But the foul mood was now at its depth, as the fair wind at its height. +</p> + +<p> +There was something in the man so far beyond any mere unsociality or sourness +previously evinced, that even the forbearing good-nature of his guest could no +longer endure it. Wholly at a loss to account for such demeanor, and deeming +sickness with eccentricity, however extreme, no adequate excuse, well +satisfied, too, that nothing in his own conduct could justify it, Captain +Delano’s pride began to be roused. Himself became reserved. But all +seemed one to the Spaniard. Quitting him, therefore, Captain Delano once more +went to the deck. +</p> + +<p> +The ship was now within less than two miles of the sealer. The whale-boat was +seen darting over the interval. +</p> + +<p> +To be brief, the two vessels, thanks to the pilot’s skill, ere long +neighborly style lay anchored together. +</p> + +<p> +Before returning to his own vessel, Captain Delano had intended communicating +to Don Benito the smaller details of the proposed services to be rendered. But, +as it was, unwilling anew to subject himself to rebuffs, he resolved, now that +he had seen the San Dominick safely moored, immediately to quit her, without +further allusion to hospitality or business. Indefinitely postponing his +ulterior plans, he would regulate his future actions according to future +circumstances. His boat was ready to receive him; but his host still tarried +below. Well, thought Captain Delano, if he has little breeding, the more need +to show mine. He descended to the cabin to bid a ceremonious, and, it may be, +tacitly rebukeful adieu. But to his great satisfaction, Don Benito, as if he +began to feel the weight of that treatment with which his slighted guest had, +not indecorously, retaliated upon him, now supported by his servant, rose to +his feet, and grasping Captain Delano’s hand, stood tremulous; too much +agitated to speak. But the good augury hence drawn was suddenly dashed, by his +resuming all his previous reserve, with augmented gloom, as, with half-averted +eyes, he silently reseated himself on his cushions. With a corresponding return +of his own chilled feelings, Captain Delano bowed and withdrew. +</p> + +<p> +He was hardly midway in the narrow corridor, dim as a tunnel, leading from the +cabin to the stairs, when a sound, as of the tolling for execution in some +jail-yard, fell on his ears. It was the echo of the ship’s flawed bell, +striking the hour, drearily reverberated in this subterranean vault. Instantly, +by a fatality not to be withstood, his mind, responsive to the portent, swarmed +with superstitious suspicions. He paused. In images far swifter than these +sentences, the minutest details of all his former distrusts swept through him. +</p> + +<p> +Hitherto, credulous good-nature had been too ready to furnish excuses for +reasonable fears. Why was the Spaniard, so superfluously punctilious at times, +now heedless of common propriety in not accompanying to the side his departing +guest? Did indisposition forbid? Indisposition had not forbidden more irksome +exertion that day. His last equivocal demeanor recurred. He had risen to his +feet, grasped his guest’s hand, motioned toward his hat; then, in an +instant, all was eclipsed in sinister muteness and gloom. Did this imply one +brief, repentant relenting at the final moment, from some iniquitous plot, +followed by remorseless return to it? His last glance seemed to express a +calamitous, yet acquiescent farewell to Captain Delano forever. Why decline the +invitation to visit the sealer that evening? Or was the Spaniard less hardened +than the Jew, who refrained not from supping at the board of him whom the same +night he meant to betray? What imported all those day-long enigmas and +contradictions, except they were intended to mystify, preliminary to some +stealthy blow? Atufal, the pretended rebel, but punctual shadow, that moment +lurked by the threshold without. He seemed a sentry, and more. Who, by his own +confession, had stationed him there? Was the negro now lying in wait? +</p> + +<p> +The Spaniard behind—his creature before: to rush from darkness to light +was the involuntary choice. +</p> + +<p> +The next moment, with clenched jaw and hand, he passed Atufal, and stood +unharmed in the light. As he saw his trim ship lying peacefully at anchor, and +almost within ordinary call; as he saw his household boat, with familiar faces +in it, patiently rising and falling, on the short waves by the San +Dominick’s side; and then, glancing about the decks where he stood, saw +the oakum-pickers still gravely plying their fingers; and heard the low, +buzzing whistle and industrious hum of the hatchet-polishers, still bestirring +themselves over their endless occupation; and more than all, as he saw the +benign aspect of nature, taking her innocent repose in the evening; the +screened sun in the quiet camp of the west shining out like the mild light from +Abraham’s tent; as charmed eye and ear took in all these, with the +chained figure of the black, clenched jaw and hand relaxed. Once again he +smiled at the phantoms which had mocked him, and felt something like a tinge of +remorse, that, by harboring them even for a moment, he should, by implication, +have betrayed an atheist doubt of the ever-watchful Providence above. +</p> + +<p> +There was a few minutes’ delay, while, in obedience to his orders, the +boat was being hooked along to the gangway. During this interval, a sort of +saddened satisfaction stole over Captain Delano, at thinking of the kindly +offices he had that day discharged for a stranger. Ah, thought he, after good +actions one’s conscience is never ungrateful, however much so the +benefited party may be. +</p> + +<p> +Presently, his foot, in the first act of descent into the boat, pressed the +first round of the side-ladder, his face presented inward upon the deck. In the +same moment, he heard his name courteously sounded; and, to his pleased +surprise, saw Don Benito advancing—an unwonted energy in his air, as if, +at the last moment, intent upon making amends for his recent discourtesy. With +instinctive good feeling, Captain Delano, withdrawing his foot, turned and +reciprocally advanced. As he did so, the Spaniard’s nervous eagerness +increased, but his vital energy failed; so that, the better to support him, the +servant, placing his master’s hand on his naked shoulder, and gently +holding it there, formed himself into a sort of crutch. +</p> + +<p> +When the two captains met, the Spaniard again fervently took the hand of the +American, at the same time casting an earnest glance into his eyes, but, as +before, too much overcome to speak. +</p> + +<p> +I have done him wrong, self-reproachfully thought Captain Delano; his apparent +coldness has deceived me: in no instance has he meant to offend. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime, as if fearful that the continuance of the scene might too much +unstring his master, the servant seemed anxious to terminate it. And so, still +presenting himself as a crutch, and walking between the two captains, he +advanced with them towards the gangway; while still, as if full of kindly +contrition, Don Benito would not let go the hand of Captain Delano, but +retained it in his, across the black’s body. +</p> + +<p> +Soon they were standing by the side, looking over into the boat, whose crew +turned up their curious eyes. Waiting a moment for the Spaniard to relinquish +his hold, the now embarrassed Captain Delano lifted his foot, to overstep the +threshold of the open gangway; but still Don Benito would not let go his hand. +And yet, with an agitated tone, he said, “I can go no further; here I +must bid you adieu. Adieu, my dear, dear Don Amasa. Go—go!” +suddenly tearing his hand loose, “go, and God guard you better than me, +my best friend.” +</p> + +<p> +Not unaffected, Captain Delano would now have lingered; but catching the meekly +admonitory eye of the servant, with a hasty farewell he descended into his +boat, followed by the continual adieus of Don Benito, standing rooted in the +gangway. +</p> + +<p> +Seating himself in the stern, Captain Delano, making a last salute, ordered the +boat shoved off. The crew had their oars on end. The bowsmen pushed the boat a +sufficient distance for the oars to be lengthwise dropped. The instant that was +done, Don Benito sprang over the bulwarks, falling at the feet of Captain +Delano; at the same time calling towards his ship, but in tones so frenzied, +that none in the boat could understand him. But, as if not equally obtuse, +three sailors, from three different and distant parts of the ship, splashed +into the sea, swimming after their captain, as if intent upon his rescue. +</p> + +<p> +The dismayed officer of the boat eagerly asked what this meant. To which, +Captain Delano, turning a disdainful smile upon the unaccountable Spaniard, +answered that, for his part, he neither knew nor cared; but it seemed as if Don +Benito had taken it into his head to produce the impression among his people +that the boat wanted to kidnap him. “Or else—give way for your +lives,” he wildly added, starting at a clattering hubbub in the ship, +above which rang the tocsin of the hatchet-polishers; and seizing Don Benito by +the throat he added, “this plotting pirate means murder!” Here, in +apparent verification of the words, the servant, a dagger in his hand, was seen +on the rail overhead, poised, in the act of leaping, as if with desperate +fidelity to befriend his master to the last; while, seemingly to aid the black, +the three white sailors were trying to clamber into the hampered bow. Meantime, +the whole host of negroes, as if inflamed at the sight of their jeopardized +captain, impended in one sooty avalanche over the bulwarks. +</p> + +<p> +All this, with what preceded, and what followed, occurred with such involutions +of rapidity, that past, present, and future seemed one. +</p> + +<p> +Seeing the negro coming, Captain Delano had flung the Spaniard aside, almost in +the very act of clutching him, and, by the unconscious recoil, shifting his +place, with arms thrown up, so promptly grappled the servant in his descent, +that with dagger presented at Captain Delano’s heart, the black seemed of +purpose to have leaped there as to his mark. But the weapon was wrenched away, +and the assailant dashed down into the bottom of the boat, which now, with +disentangled oars, began to speed through the sea. +</p> + +<p> +At this juncture, the left hand of Captain Delano, on one side, again clutched +the half-reclined Don Benito, heedless that he was in a speechless faint, while +his right-foot, on the other side, ground the prostrate negro; and his right +arm pressed for added speed on the after oar, his eye bent forward, encouraging +his men to their utmost. +</p> + +<p> +But here, the officer of the boat, who had at last succeeded in beating off the +towing sailors, and was now, with face turned aft, assisting the bowsman at his +oar, suddenly called to Captain Delano, to see what the black was about; while +a Portuguese oarsman shouted to him to give heed to what the Spaniard was +saying. +</p> + +<p> +Glancing down at his feet, Captain Delano saw the freed hand of the servant +aiming with a second dagger—a small one, before concealed in his +wool—with this he was snakishly writhing up from the boat’s bottom, +at the heart of his master, his countenance lividly vindictive, expressing the +centred purpose of his soul; while the Spaniard, half-choked, was vainly +shrinking away, with husky words, incoherent to all but the Portuguese. +</p> + +<p> +That moment, across the long-benighted mind of Captain Delano, a flash of +revelation swept, illuminating, in unanticipated clearness, his host’s +whole mysterious demeanor, with every enigmatic event of the day, as well as +the entire past voyage of the San Dominick. He smote Babo’s hand down, +but his own heart smote him harder. With infinite pity he withdrew his hold +from Don Benito. Not Captain Delano, but Don Benito, the black, in leaping into +the boat, had intended to stab. +</p> + +<p> +Both the black’s hands were held, as, glancing up towards the San +Dominick, Captain Delano, now with scales dropped from his eyes, saw the +negroes, not in misrule, not in tumult, not as if frantically concerned for Don +Benito, but with mask torn away, flourishing hatchets and knives, in ferocious +piratical revolt. Like delirious black dervishes, the six Ashantees danced on +the poop. Prevented by their foes from springing into the water, the Spanish +boys were hurrying up to the topmost spars, while such of the few Spanish +sailors, not already in the sea, less alert, were descried, helplessly mixed +in, on deck, with the blacks. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime Captain Delano hailed his own vessel, ordering the ports up, and the +guns run out. But by this time the cable of the San Dominick had been cut; and +the fag-end, in lashing out, whipped away the canvas shroud about the beak, +suddenly revealing, as the bleached hull swung round towards the open ocean, +death for the figure-head, in a human skeleton; chalky comment on the chalked +words below, “<i>Follow your leader</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +At the sight, Don Benito, covering his face, wailed out: “’Tis he, +Aranda! my murdered, unburied friend!” +</p> + +<p> +Upon reaching the sealer, calling for ropes, Captain Delano bound the negro, +who made no resistance, and had him hoisted to the deck. He would then have +assisted the now almost helpless Don Benito up the side; but Don Benito, wan as +he was, refused to move, or be moved, until the negro should have been first +put below out of view. When, presently assured that it was done, he no more +shrank from the ascent. +</p> + +<p> +The boat was immediately dispatched back to pick up the three swimming sailors. +Meantime, the guns were in readiness, though, owing to the San Dominick having +glided somewhat astern of the sealer, only the aftermost one could be brought +to bear. With this, they fired six times; thinking to cripple the fugitive ship +by bringing down her spars. But only a few inconsiderable ropes were shot away. +Soon the ship was beyond the gun’s range, steering broad out of the bay; +the blacks thickly clustering round the bowsprit, one moment with taunting +cries towards the whites, the next with upthrown gestures hailing the now dusky +moors of ocean—cawing crows escaped from the hand of the fowler. +</p> + +<p> +The first impulse was to slip the cables and give chase. But, upon second +thoughts, to pursue with whale-boat and yawl seemed more promising. +</p> + +<p> +Upon inquiring of Don Benito what firearms they had on board the San Dominick, +Captain Delano was answered that they had none that could be used; because, in +the earlier stages of the mutiny, a cabin-passenger, since dead, had secretly +put out of order the locks of what few muskets there were. But with all his +remaining strength, Don Benito entreated the American not to give chase, either +with ship or boat; for the negroes had already proved themselves such +desperadoes, that, in case of a present assault, nothing but a total massacre +of the whites could be looked for. But, regarding this warning as coming from +one whose spirit had been crushed by misery the American did not give up his +design. +</p> + +<p> +The boats were got ready and armed. Captain Delano ordered his men into them. +He was going himself when Don Benito grasped his arm. +</p> + +<p> +“What! have you saved my life, Señor, and are you now going to throw away +your own?” +</p> + +<p> +The officers also, for reasons connected with their interests and those of the +voyage, and a duty owing to the owners, strongly objected against their +commander’s going. Weighing their remonstrances a moment, Captain Delano +felt bound to remain; appointing his chief mate—an athletic and resolute +man, who had been a privateer’s-man—to head the party. The more to +encourage the sailors, they were told, that the Spanish captain considered his +ship good as lost; that she and her cargo, including some gold and silver, were +worth more than a thousand doubloons. Take her, and no small part should be +theirs. The sailors replied with a shout. +</p> + +<p> +The fugitives had now almost gained an offing. It was nearly night; but the +moon was rising. After hard, prolonged pulling, the boats came up on the +ship’s quarters, at a suitable distance laying upon their oars to +discharge their muskets. Having no bullets to return, the negroes sent their +yells. But, upon the second volley, Indian-like, they hurtled their hatchets. +One took off a sailor’s fingers. Another struck the whale-boat’s +bow, cutting off the rope there, and remaining stuck in the gunwale like a +woodman’s axe. Snatching it, quivering from its lodgment, the mate hurled +it back. The returned gauntlet now stuck in the ship’s broken +quarter-gallery, and so remained. +</p> + +<p> +The negroes giving too hot a reception, the whites kept a more respectful +distance. Hovering now just out of reach of the hurtling hatchets, they, with a +view to the close encounter which must soon come, sought to decoy the blacks +into entirely disarming themselves of their most murderous weapons in a +hand-to-hand fight, by foolishly flinging them, as missiles, short of the mark, +into the sea. But, ere long, perceiving the stratagem, the negroes desisted, +though not before many of them had to replace their lost hatchets with +handspikes; an exchange which, as counted upon, proved, in the end, favorable +to the assailants. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime, with a strong wind, the ship still clove the water; the boats +alternately falling behind, and pulling up, to discharge fresh volleys. +</p> + +<p> +The fire was mostly directed towards the stern, since there, chiefly, the +negroes, at present, were clustering. But to kill or maim the negroes was not +the object. To take them, with the ship, was the object. To do it, the ship +must be boarded; which could not be done by boats while she was sailing so +fast. +</p> + +<p> +A thought now struck the mate. Observing the Spanish boys still aloft, high as +they could get, he called to them to descend to the yards, and cut adrift the +sails. It was done. About this time, owing to causes hereafter to be shown, two +Spaniards, in the dress of sailors, and conspicuously showing themselves, were +killed; not by volleys, but by deliberate marksman’s shots; while, as it +afterwards appeared, by one of the general discharges, Atufal, the black, and +the Spaniard at the helm likewise were killed. What now, with the loss of the +sails, and loss of leaders, the ship became unmanageable to the negroes. +</p> + +<p> +With creaking masts, she came heavily round to the wind; the prow slowly +swinging into view of the boats, its skeleton gleaming in the horizontal +moonlight, and casting a gigantic ribbed shadow upon the water. One extended +arm of the ghost seemed beckoning the whites to avenge it. +</p> + +<p> +“Follow your leader!” cried the mate; and, one on each bow, the +boats boarded. Sealing-spears and cutlasses crossed hatchets and hand-spikes. +Huddled upon the long-boat amidships, the negresses raised a wailing chant, +whose chorus was the clash of the steel. +</p> + +<p> +For a time, the attack wavered; the negroes wedging themselves to beat it back; +the half-repelled sailors, as yet unable to gain a footing, fighting as +troopers in the saddle, one leg sideways flung over the bulwarks, and one +without, plying their cutlasses like carters’ whips. But in vain. They +were almost overborne, when, rallying themselves into a squad as one man, with +a huzza, they sprang inboard, where, entangled, they involuntarily separated +again. For a few breaths’ space, there was a vague, muffled, inner sound, +as of submerged sword-fish rushing hither and thither through shoals of +black-fish. Soon, in a reunited band, and joined by the Spanish seamen, the +whites came to the surface, irresistibly driving the negroes toward the stern. +But a barricade of casks and sacks, from side to side, had been thrown up by +the main-mast. Here the negroes faced about, and though scorning peace or +truce, yet fain would have had respite. But, without pause, overleaping the +barrier, the unflagging sailors again closed. Exhausted, the blacks now fought +in despair. Their red tongues lolled, wolf-like, from their black mouths. But +the pale sailors’ teeth were set; not a word was spoken; and, in five +minutes more, the ship was won. +</p> + +<p> +Nearly a score of the negroes were killed. Exclusive of those by the balls, +many were mangled; their wounds—mostly inflicted by the long-edged +sealing-spears, resembling those shaven ones of the English at Preston Pans, +made by the poled scythes of the Highlanders. On the other side, none were +killed, though several were wounded; some severely, including the mate. The +surviving negroes were temporarily secured, and the ship, towed back into the +harbor at midnight, once more lay anchored. +</p> + +<p> +Omitting the incidents and arrangements ensuing, suffice it that, after two +days spent in refitting, the ships sailed in company for Conception, in Chili, +and thence for Lima, in Peru; where, before the vice-regal courts, the whole +affair, from the beginning, underwent investigation. +</p> + +<p> +Though, midway on the passage, the ill-fated Spaniard, relaxed from constraint, +showed some signs of regaining health with free-will; yet, agreeably to his own +foreboding, shortly before arriving at Lima, he relapsed, finally becoming so +reduced as to be carried ashore in arms. Hearing of his story and plight, one +of the many religious institutions of the City of Kings opened an hospitable +refuge to him, where both physician and priest were his nurses, and a member of +the order volunteered to be his one special guardian and consoler, by night and +by day. +</p> + +<p> +The following extracts, translated from one of the official Spanish documents, +will, it is hoped, shed light on the preceding narrative, as well as, in the +first place, reveal the true port of departure and true history of the San +Dominick’s voyage, down to the time of her touching at the island of St. +Maria. +</p> + +<p> +But, ere the extracts come, it may be well to preface them with a remark. +</p> + +<p> +The document selected, from among many others, for partial translation, +contains the deposition of Benito Cereno; the first taken in the case. Some +disclosures therein were, at the time, held dubious for both learned and +natural reasons. The tribunal inclined to the opinion that the deponent, not +undisturbed in his mind by recent events, raved of some things which could +never have happened. But subsequent depositions of the surviving sailors, +bearing out the revelations of their captain in several of the strangest +particulars, gave credence to the rest. So that the tribunal, in its final +decision, rested its capital sentences upon statements which, had they lacked +confirmation, it would have deemed it but duty to reject. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +I, D<small>ON</small> J<small>OSE DE</small> A<small>BOS AND</small> +P<small>ADILLA</small>, His Majesty’s Notary for the Royal Revenue, and +Register of this Province, and Notary Public of the Holy Crusade of this +Bishopric, etc. +</p> + +<p> +Do certify and declare, as much as is requisite in law, that, in the criminal +cause commenced the twenty-fourth of the month of September, in the year +seventeen hundred and ninety-nine, against the negroes of the ship San +Dominick, the following declaration before me was made: +</p> + +<p class="center"> +<i>Declaration of the first witness</i>, D<small>ON</small> +B<small>ENITO</small> C<small>ERENO</small>. +</p> + +<p> +The same day, and month, and year, His Honor, Doctor Juan Martinez de Rozas, +Councilor of the Royal Audience of this Kingdom, and learned in the law of this +Intendency, ordered the captain of the ship San Dominick, Don Benito Cereno, to +appear; which he did, in his litter, attended by the monk Infelez; of whom he +received the oath, which he took by God, our Lord, and a sign of the Cross; +under which he promised to tell the truth of whatever he should know and should +be asked;—and being interrogated agreeably to the tenor of the act +commencing the process, he said, that on the twentieth of May last, he set sail +with his ship from the port of Valparaiso, bound to that of Callao; loaded with +the produce of the country beside thirty cases of hardware and one hundred and +sixty blacks, of both sexes, mostly belonging to Don Alexandro Aranda, +gentleman, of the city of Mendoza; that the crew of the ship consisted of +thirty-six men, beside the persons who went as passengers; that the negroes +were in part as follows: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +[<i>Here, in the original, follows a list of some fifty names, descriptions, +and ages, compiled from certain recovered documents of Aranda’s, and also +from recollections of the deponent, from which portions only are +extracted.</i>] +</p> + +<p> +—One, from about eighteen to nineteen years, named José, and this was the +man that waited upon his master, Don Alexandro, and who speaks well the +Spanish, having served him four or five years; * * * a mulatto, named +Francesco, the cabin steward, of a good person and voice, having sung in the +Valparaiso churches, native of the province of Buenos Ayres, aged about +thirty-five years. * * * A smart negro, named Dago, who had been for many years +a grave-digger among the Spaniards, aged forty-six years. * * * Four old +negroes, born in Africa, from sixty to seventy, but sound, calkers by trade, +whose names are as follows:—the first was named Muri, and he was killed +(as was also his son named Diamelo); the second, Nacta; the third, Yola, +likewise killed; the fourth, Ghofan; and six full-grown negroes, aged from +thirty to forty-five, all raw, and born among the Ashantees—Matiluqui, +Yan, Leche, Mapenda, Yambaio, Akim; four of whom were killed; * * * a powerful +negro named Atufal, who being supposed to have been a chief in Africa, his +owner set great store by him. * * * And a small negro of Senegal, but some +years among the Spaniards, aged about thirty, which negro’s name was +Babo; * * * that he does not remember the names of the others, but that still +expecting the residue of Don Alexandra’s papers will be found, will then +take due account of them all, and remit to the court; * * * and thirty-nine +women and children of all ages. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +[<i>The catalogue over, the deposition goes on</i>] +</p> + +<p> +* * * That all the negroes slept upon deck, as is customary in this navigation, +and none wore fetters, because the owner, his friend Aranda, told him that they +were all tractable; * * * that on the seventh day after leaving port, at three +o’clock in the morning, all the Spaniards being asleep except the two +officers on the watch, who were the boatswain, Juan Robles, and the carpenter, +Juan Bautista Gayete, and the helmsman and his boy, the negroes revolted +suddenly, wounded dangerously the boatswain and the carpenter, and successively +killed eighteen men of those who were sleeping upon deck, some with hand-spikes +and hatchets, and others by throwing them alive overboard, after tying them; +that of the Spaniards upon deck, they left about seven, as he thinks, alive and +tied, to manoeuvre the ship, and three or four more, who hid themselves, +remained also alive. Although in the act of revolt the negroes made themselves +masters of the hatchway, six or seven wounded went through it to the cockpit, +without any hindrance on their part; that during the act of revolt, the mate +and another person, whose name he does not recollect, attempted to come up +through the hatchway, but being quickly wounded, were obliged to return to the +cabin; that the deponent resolved at break of day to come up the companion-way, +where the negro Babo was, being the ringleader, and Atufal, who assisted him, +and having spoken to them, exhorted them to cease committing such atrocities, +asking them, at the same time, what they wanted and intended to do, offering, +himself, to obey their commands; that notwithstanding this, they threw, in his +presence, three men, alive and tied, overboard; that they told the deponent to +come up, and that they would not kill him; which having done, the negro Babo +asked him whether there were in those seas any negro countries where they might +be carried, and he answered them, No; that the negro Babo afterwards told him +to carry them to Senegal, or to the neighboring islands of St. Nicholas; and he +answered, that this was impossible, on account of the great distance, the +necessity involved of rounding Cape Horn, the bad condition of the vessel, the +want of provisions, sails, and water; but that the negro Babo replied to him he +must carry them in any way; that they would do and conform themselves to +everything the deponent should require as to eating and drinking; that after a +long conference, being absolutely compelled to please them, for they threatened +to kill all the whites if they were not, at all events, carried to Senegal, he +told them that what was most wanting for the voyage was water; that they would +go near the coast to take it, and thence they would proceed on their course; +that the negro Babo agreed to it; and the deponent steered towards the +intermediate ports, hoping to meet some Spanish, or foreign vessel that would +save them; that within ten or eleven days they saw the land, and continued +their course by it in the vicinity of Nasca; that the deponent observed that +the negroes were now restless and mutinous, because he did not effect the +taking in of water, the negro Babo having required, with threats, that it +should be done, without fail, the following day; he told him he saw plainly +that the coast was steep, and the rivers designated in the maps were not to be +found, with other reasons suitable to the circumstances; that the best way +would be to go to the island of Santa Maria, where they might water easily, it +being a solitary island, as the foreigners did; that the deponent did not go to +Pisco, that was near, nor make any other port of the coast, because the negro +Babo had intimated to him several times, that he would kill all the whites the +very moment he should perceive any city, town, or settlement of any kind on the +shores to which they should be carried: that having determined to go to the +island of Santa Maria, as the deponent had planned, for the purpose of trying +whether, on the passage or near the island itself, they could find any vessel +that should favor them, or whether he could escape from it in a boat to the +neighboring coast of Arruco, to adopt the necessary means he immediately +changed his course, steering for the island; that the negroes Babo and Atufal +held daily conferences, in which they discussed what was necessary for their +design of returning to Senegal, whether they were to kill all the Spaniards, +and particularly the deponent; that eight days after parting from the coast of +Nasca, the deponent being on the watch a little after day-break, and soon after +the negroes had their meeting, the negro Babo came to the place where the +deponent was, and told him that he had determined to kill his master, Don +Alexandro Aranda, both because he and his companions could not otherwise be +sure of their liberty, and that to keep the seamen in subjection, he wanted to +prepare a warning of what road they should be made to take did they or any of +them oppose him; and that, by means of the death of Don Alexandro, that warning +would best be given; but, that what this last meant, the deponent did not at +the time comprehend, nor could not, further than that the death of Don +Alexandro was intended; and moreover the negro Babo proposed to the deponent to +call the mate Raneds, who was sleeping in the cabin, before the thing was done, +for fear, as the deponent understood it, that the mate, who was a good +navigator, should be killed with Don Alexandro and the rest; that the deponent, +who was the friend, from youth, of Don Alexandro, prayed and conjured, but all +was useless; for the negro Babo answered him that the thing could not be +prevented, and that all the Spaniards risked their death if they should attempt +to frustrate his will in this matter, or any other; that, in this conflict, the +deponent called the mate, Raneds, who was forced to go apart, and immediately +the negro Babo commanded the Ashantee Martinqui and the Ashantee Lecbe to go +and commit the murder; that those two went down with hatchets to the berth of +Don Alexandro; that, yet half alive and mangled, they dragged him on deck; that +they were going to throw him overboard in that state, but the negro Babo +stopped them, bidding the murder be completed on the deck before him, which was +done, when, by his orders, the body was carried below, forward; that nothing +more was seen of it by the deponent for three days; * * * that Don Alonzo +Sidonia, an old man, long resident at Valparaiso, and lately appointed to a +civil office in Peru, whither he had taken passage, was at the time sleeping in +the berth opposite Don Alexandro’s; that awakening at his cries, +surprised by them, and at the sight of the negroes with their bloody hatchets +in their hands, he threw himself into the sea through a window which was near +him, and was drowned, without it being in the power of the deponent to assist +or take him up; * * * that a short time after killing Aranda, they brought upon +deck his german-cousin, of middle-age, Don Francisco Masa, of Mendoza, and the +young Don Joaquin, Marques de Aramboalaza, then lately from Spain, with his +Spanish servant Ponce, and the three young clerks of Aranda, José Mozairi +Lorenzo Bargas, and Hermenegildo Gandix, all of Cadiz; that Don Joaquin and +Hermenegildo Gandix, the negro Babo, for purposes hereafter to appear, +preserved alive; but Don Francisco Masa, José Mozairi, and Lorenzo Bargas, with +Ponce the servant, beside the boatswain, Juan Robles, the boatswain’s +mates, Manuel Viscaya and Roderigo Hurta, and four of the sailors, the negro +Babo ordered to be thrown alive into the sea, although they made no resistance, +nor begged for anything else but mercy; that the boatswain, Juan Robles, who +knew how to swim, kept the longest above water, making acts of contrition, and, +in the last words he uttered, charged this deponent to cause mass to be said +for his soul to our Lady of Succor: * * * that, during the three days which +followed, the deponent, uncertain what fate had befallen the remains of Don +Alexandro, frequently asked the negro Babo where they were, and, if still on +board, whether they were to be preserved for interment ashore, entreating him +so to order it; that the negro Babo answered nothing till the fourth day, when +at sunrise, the deponent coming on deck, the negro Babo showed him a skeleton, +which had been substituted for the ship’s proper figure-head—the +image of Christopher Colon, the discoverer of the New World; that the negro +Babo asked him whose skeleton that was, and whether, from its whiteness, he +should not think it a white’s; that, upon discovering his face, the negro +Babo, coming close, said words to this effect: “Keep faith with the +blacks from here to Senegal, or you shall in spirit, as now in body, follow +your leader,” pointing to the prow; * * * that the same morning the negro +Babo took by succession each Spaniard forward, and asked him whose skeleton +that was, and whether, from its whiteness, he should not think it a +white’s; that each Spaniard covered his face; that then to each the negro +Babo repeated the words in the first place said to the deponent; * * * that +they (the Spaniards), being then assembled aft, the negro Babo harangued them, +saying that he had now done all; that the deponent (as navigator for the +negroes) might pursue his course, warning him and all of them that they should, +soul and body, go the way of Don Alexandro, if he saw them (the Spaniards) +speak, or plot anything against them (the negroes)—a threat which was +repeated every day; that, before the events last mentioned, they had tied the +cook to throw him overboard, for it is not known what thing they heard him +speak, but finally the negro Babo spared his life, at the request of the +deponent; that a few days after, the deponent, endeavoring not to omit any +means to preserve the lives of the remaining whites, spoke to the negroes peace +and tranquillity, and agreed to draw up a paper, signed by the deponent and the +sailors who could write, as also by the negro Babo, for himself and all the +blacks, in which the deponent obliged himself to carry them to Senegal, and +they not to kill any more, and he formally to make over to them the ship, with +the cargo, with which they were for that time satisfied and quieted. * * But +the next day, the more surely to guard against the sailors’ escape, the +negro Babo commanded all the boats to be destroyed but the long-boat, which was +unseaworthy, and another, a cutter in good condition, which knowing it would +yet be wanted for towing the water casks, he had it lowered down into the hold. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="letter"> +[<i>Various particulars of the prolonged and perplexed navigation ensuing here +follow, with incidents of a calamitous calm, from which portion one passage is +extracted, to wit</i>:] +</p> + +<p> +—That on the fifth day of the calm, all on board suffering much from the +heat, and want of water, and five having died in fits, and mad, the negroes +became irritable, and for a chance gesture, which they deemed +suspicious—though it was harmless—made by the mate, Raneds, to the +deponent in the act of handing a quadrant, they killed him; but that for this +they afterwards were sorry, the mate being the only remaining navigator on +board, except the deponent. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +—That omitting other events, which daily happened, and which can only +serve uselessly to recall past misfortunes and conflicts, after seventy-three +days’ navigation, reckoned from the time they sailed from Nasca, during +which they navigated under a scanty allowance of water, and were afflicted with +the calms before mentioned, they at last arrived at the island of Santa Maria, +on the seventeenth of the month of August, at about six o’clock in the +afternoon, at which hour they cast anchor very near the American ship, +Bachelor’s Delight, which lay in the same bay, commanded by the generous +Captain Amasa Delano; but at six o’clock in the morning, they had already +descried the port, and the negroes became uneasy, as soon as at distance they +saw the ship, not having expected to see one there; that the negro Babo +pacified them, assuring them that no fear need be had; that straightway he +ordered the figure on the bow to be covered with canvas, as for repairs and had +the decks a little set in order; that for a time the negro Babo and the negro +Atufal conferred; that the negro Atufal was for sailing away, but the negro +Babo would not, and, by himself, cast about what to do; that at last he came to +the deponent, proposing to him to say and do all that the deponent declares to +have said and done to the American captain; * * * * * * * that the negro Babo +warned him that if he varied in the least, or uttered any word, or gave any +look that should give the least intimation of the past events or present state, +he would instantly kill him, with all his companions, showing a dagger, which +he carried hid, saying something which, as he understood it, meant that that +dagger would be alert as his eye; that the negro Babo then announced the plan +to all his companions, which pleased them; that he then, the better to disguise +the truth, devised many expedients, in some of them uniting deceit and defense; +that of this sort was the device of the six Ashantees before named, who were +his bravoes; that them he stationed on the break of the poop, as if to clean +certain hatchets (in cases, which were part of the cargo), but in reality to +use them, and distribute them at need, and at a given word he told them; that, +among other devices, was the device of presenting Atufal, his right hand man, +as chained, though in a moment the chains could be dropped; that in every +particular he informed the deponent what part he was expected to enact in every +device, and what story he was to tell on every occasion, always threatening him +with instant death if he varied in the least: that, conscious that many of the +negroes would be turbulent, the negro Babo appointed the four aged negroes, who +were calkers, to keep what domestic order they could on the decks; that again +and again he harangued the Spaniards and his companions, informing them of his +intent, and of his devices, and of the invented story that this deponent was to +tell; charging them lest any of them varied from that story; that these +arrangements were made and matured during the interval of two or three hours, +between their first sighting the ship and the arrival on board of Captain Amasa +Delano; that this happened about half-past seven o’clock in the morning, +Captain Amasa Delano coming in his boat, and all gladly receiving him; that the +deponent, as well as he could force himself, acting then the part of principal +owner, and a free captain of the ship, told Captain Amasa Delano, when called +upon, that he came from Buenos Ayres, bound to Lima, with three hundred +negroes; that off Cape Horn, and in a subsequent fever, many negroes had died; +that also, by similar casualties, all the sea officers and the greatest part of +the crew had died. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="letter"> +[<i>And so the deposition goes on, circumstantially recounting the fictitious +story dictated to the deponent by Babo, and through the deponent imposed upon +Captain Delano; and also recounting the friendly offers of Captain Delano, with +other things, but all of which is here omitted. After the fictitious story, +etc. the deposition proceeds</i>:] +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p> +—that the generous Captain Amasa Delano remained on board all the day, +till he left the ship anchored at six o’clock in the evening, deponent +speaking to him always of his pretended misfortunes, under the fore-mentioned +principles, without having had it in his power to tell a single word, or give +him the least hint, that he might know the truth and state of things; because +the negro Babo, performing the office of an officious servant with all the +appearance of submission of the humble slave, did not leave the deponent one +moment; that this was in order to observe the deponent’s actions and +words, for the negro Babo understands well the Spanish; and besides, there were +thereabout some others who were constantly on the watch, and likewise +understood the Spanish; * * * that upon one occasion, while deponent was +standing on the deck conversing with Amasa Delano, by a secret sign the negro +Babo drew him (the deponent) aside, the act appearing as if originating with +the deponent; that then, he being drawn aside, the negro Babo proposed to him +to gain from Amasa Delano full particulars about his ship, and crew, and arms; +that the deponent asked “For what?” that the negro Babo answered he +might conceive; that, grieved at the prospect of what might overtake the +generous Captain Amasa Delano, the deponent at first refused to ask the desired +questions, and used every argument to induce the negro Babo to give up this new +design; that the negro Babo showed the point of his dagger; that, after the +information had been obtained the negro Babo again drew him aside, telling him +that that very night he (the deponent) would be captain of two ships, instead +of one, for that, great part of the American’s ship’s crew being to +be absent fishing, the six Ashantees, without any one else, would easily take +it; that at this time he said other things to the same purpose; that no +entreaties availed; that, before Amasa Delano’s coming on board, no hint +had been given touching the capture of the American ship: that to prevent this +project the deponent was powerless; * * *—that in some things his memory +is confused, he cannot distinctly recall every event; * * *—that as soon +as they had cast anchor at six of the clock in the evening, as has before been +stated, the American Captain took leave, to return to his vessel; that upon a +sudden impulse, which the deponent believes to have come from God and his +angels, he, after the farewell had been said, followed the generous Captain +Amasa Delano as far as the gunwale, where he stayed, under pretense of taking +leave, until Amasa Delano should have been seated in his boat; that on shoving +off, the deponent sprang from the gunwale into the boat, and fell into it, he +knows not how, God guarding him; that— +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="letter"> +[<i>Here, in the original, follows the account of what further happened at the +escape, and how the San Dominick was retaken, and of the passage to the coast; +including in the recital many expressions of “eternal gratitude” to +the “generous Captain Amasa Delano.” The deposition then proceeds +with recapitulatory remarks, and a partial renumeration of the negroes, making +record of their individual part in the past events, with a view to furnishing, +according to command of the court, the data whereon to found the criminal +sentences to be pronounced. From this portion is the following</i>;] +</p> + +<p> +—That he believes that all the negroes, though not in the first place +knowing to the design of revolt, when it was accomplished, approved it. * * * +That the negro, José, eighteen years old, and in the personal service of Don +Alexandro, was the one who communicated the information to the negro Babo, +about the state of things in the cabin, before the revolt; that this is known, +because, in the preceding midnight, he use to come from his berth, which was +under his master’s, in the cabin, to the deck where the ringleader and +his associates were, and had secret conversations with the negro Babo, in which +he was several times seen by the mate; that, one night, the mate drove him away +twice; * * that this same negro José was the one who, without being commanded +to do so by the negro Babo, as Lecbe and Martinqui were, stabbed his master, +Don Alexandro, after he had been dragged half-lifeless to the deck; * * that +the mulatto steward, Francesco, was of the first band of revolters, that he +was, in all things, the creature and tool of the negro Babo; that, to make his +court, he, just before a repast in the cabin, proposed, to the negro Babo, +poisoning a dish for the generous Captain Amasa Delano; this is known and +believed, because the negroes have said it; but that the negro Babo, having +another design, forbade Francesco; * * that the Ashantee Lecbe was one of the +worst of them; for that, on the day the ship was retaken, he assisted in the +defense of her, with a hatchet in each hand, with one of which he wounded, in +the breast, the chief mate of Amasa Delano, in the first act of boarding; this +all knew; that, in sight of the deponent, Lecbe struck, with a hatchet, Don +Francisco Masa, when, by the negro Babo’s orders, he was carrying him to +throw him overboard, alive, beside participating in the murder, before +mentioned, of Don Alexandro Aranda, and others of the cabin-passengers; that, +owing to the fury with which the Ashantees fought in the engagement with the +boats, but this Lecbe and Yan survived; that Yan was bad as Lecbe; that Yan was +the man who, by Babo’s command, willingly prepared the skeleton of Don +Alexandro, in a way the negroes afterwards told the deponent, but which he, so +long as reason is left him, can never divulge; that Yan and Lecbe were the two +who, in a calm by night, riveted the skeleton to the bow; this also the negroes +told him; that the negro Babo was he who traced the inscription below it; that +the negro Babo was the plotter from first to last; he ordered every murder, and +was the helm and keel of the revolt; that Atufal was his lieutenant in all; but +Atufal, with his own hand, committed no murder; nor did the negro Babo; * * +that Atufal was shot, being killed in the fight with the boats, ere boarding; * +* that the negresses, of age, were knowing to the revolt, and testified +themselves satisfied at the death of their master, Don Alexandro; that, had the +negroes not restrained them, they would have tortured to death, instead of +simply killing, the Spaniards slain by command of the negro Babo; that the +negresses used their utmost influence to have the deponent made away with; +that, in the various acts of murder, they sang songs and danced—not +gaily, but solemnly; and before the engagement with the boats, as well as +during the action, they sang melancholy songs to the negroes, and that this +melancholy tone was more inflaming than a different one would have been, and +was so intended; that all this is believed, because the negroes have said +it.—that of the thirty-six men of the crew, exclusive of the passengers +(all of whom are now dead), which the deponent had knowledge of, six only +remained alive, with four cabin-boys and ship-boys, not included with the crew; +* *—that the negroes broke an arm of one of the cabin-boys and gave him +strokes with hatchets. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +[<i>Then follow various random disclosures referring to various periods of +time. The following are extracted</i>;] +</p> + +<p> +—That during the presence of Captain Amasa Delano on board, some attempts +were made by the sailors, and one by Hermenegildo Gandix, to convey hints to +him of the true state of affairs; but that these attempts were ineffectual, +owing to fear of incurring death, and, futhermore, owing to the devices which +offered contradictions to the true state of affairs, as well as owing to the +generosity and piety of Amasa Delano incapable of sounding such wickedness; * * +* that Luys Galgo, a sailor about sixty years of age, and formerly of the +king’s navy, was one of those who sought to convey tokens to Captain +Amasa Delano; but his intent, though undiscovered, being suspected, he was, on +a pretense, made to retire out of sight, and at last into the hold, and there +was made away with. This the negroes have since said; * * * that one of the +ship-boys feeling, from Captain Amasa Delano’s presence, some hopes of +release, and not having enough prudence, dropped some chance-word respecting +his expectations, which being overheard and understood by a slave-boy with whom +he was eating at the time, the latter struck him on the head with a knife, +inflicting a bad wound, but of which the boy is now healing; that likewise, not +long before the ship was brought to anchor, one of the seamen, steering at the +time, endangered himself by letting the blacks remark some expression in his +countenance, arising from a cause similar to the above; but this sailor, by his +heedful after conduct, escaped; * * * that these statements are made to show +the court that from the beginning to the end of the revolt, it was impossible +for the deponent and his men to act otherwise than they did; * * *—that +the third clerk, Hermenegildo Gandix, who before had been forced to live among +the seamen, wearing a seaman’s habit, and in all respects appearing to be +one for the time; he, Gandix, was killed by a musket ball fired through mistake +from the boats before boarding; having in his fright run up the mizzen-rigging, +calling to the boats—“don’t board,” lest upon their +boarding the negroes should kill him; that this inducing the Americans to +believe he some way favored the cause of the negroes, they fired two balls at +him, so that he fell wounded from the rigging, and was drowned in the sea; * * +*—that the young Don Joaquin, Marques de Aramboalaza, like Hermenegildo +Gandix, the third clerk, was degraded to the office and appearance of a common +seaman; that upon one occasion when Don Joaquin shrank, the negro Babo +commanded the Ashantee Lecbe to take tar and heat it, and pour it upon Don +Joaquin’s hands; * * *—that Don Joaquin was killed owing to another +mistake of the Americans, but one impossible to be avoided, as upon the +approach of the boats, Don Joaquin, with a hatchet tied edge out and upright to +his hand, was made by the negroes to appear on the bulwarks; whereupon, seen +with arms in his hands and in a questionable attitude, he was shot for a +renegade seaman; * * *—that on the person of Don Joaquin was found +secreted a jewel, which, by papers that were discovered, proved to have been +meant for the shrine of our Lady of Mercy in Lima; a votive offering, +beforehand prepared and guarded, to attest his gratitude, when he should have +landed in Peru, his last destination, for the safe conclusion of his entire +voyage from Spain; * * *—that the jewel, with the other effects of the +late Don Joaquin, is in the custody of the brethren of the Hospital de +Sacerdotes, awaiting the disposition of the honorable court; * * *—that, +owing to the condition of the deponent, as well as the haste in which the boats +departed for the attack, the Americans were not forewarned that there were, +among the apparent crew, a passenger and one of the clerks disguised by the +negro Babo; * * *—that, beside the negroes killed in the action, some +were killed after the capture and re-anchoring at night, when shackled to the +ring-bolts on deck; that these deaths were committed by the sailors, ere they +could be prevented. That so soon as informed of it, Captain Amasa Delano used +all his authority, and, in particular with his own hand, struck down Martinez +Gola, who, having found a razor in the pocket of an old jacket of his, which +one of the shackled negroes had on, was aiming it at the negro’s throat; +that the noble Captain Amasa Delano also wrenched from the hand of Bartholomew +Barlo a dagger, secreted at the time of the massacre of the whites, with which +he was in the act of stabbing a shackled negro, who, the same day, with another +negro, had thrown him down and jumped upon him; * * *—that, for all the +events, befalling through so long a time, during which the ship was in the +hands of the negro Babo, he cannot here give account; but that, what he has +said is the most substantial of what occurs to him at present, and is the truth +under the oath which he has taken; which declaration he affirmed and ratified, +after hearing it read to him. +</p> + +<p> +He said that he is twenty-nine years of age, and broken in body and mind; that +when finally dismissed by the court, he shall not return home to Chili, but +betake himself to the monastery on Mount Agonia without; and signed with his +honor, and crossed himself, and, for the time, departed as he came, in his +litter, with the monk Infelez, to the Hospital de Sacerdotes. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +BENITO CERENO. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +DOCTOR ROZAS. +</p> + +<p> +If the Deposition have served as the key to fit into the lock of the +complications which precede it, then, as a vault whose door has been flung +back, the San Dominick’s hull lies open to-day. +</p> + +<p> +Hitherto the nature of this narrative, besides rendering the intricacies in the +beginning unavoidable, has more or less required that many things, instead of +being set down in the order of occurrence, should be retrospectively, or +irregularly given; this last is the case with the following passages, which +will conclude the account: +</p> + +<p> +During the long, mild voyage to Lima, there was, as before hinted, a period +during which the sufferer a little recovered his health, or, at least in some +degree, his tranquillity. Ere the decided relapse which came, the two captains +had many cordial conversations—their fraternal unreserve in singular +contrast with former withdrawments. +</p> + +<p> +Again and again it was repeated, how hard it had been to enact the part forced +on the Spaniard by Babo. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, my dear friend,” Don Benito once said, “at those very +times when you thought me so morose and ungrateful, nay, when, as you now +admit, you half thought me plotting your murder, at those very times my heart +was frozen; I could not look at you, thinking of what, both on board this ship +and your own, hung, from other hands, over my kind benefactor. And as God +lives, Don Amasa, I know not whether desire for my own safety alone could have +nerved me to that leap into your boat, had it not been for the thought that, +did you, unenlightened, return to your ship, you, my best friend, with all who +might be with you, stolen upon, that night, in your hammocks, would never in +this world have wakened again. Do but think how you walked this deck, how you +sat in this cabin, every inch of ground mined into honey-combs under you. Had I +dropped the least hint, made the least advance towards an understanding between +us, death, explosive death—yours as mine—would have ended the +scene.” +</p> + +<p> +“True, true,” cried Captain Delano, starting, “you have saved +my life, Don Benito, more than I yours; saved it, too, against my knowledge and +will.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, my friend,” rejoined the Spaniard, courteous even to the +point of religion, “God charmed your life, but you saved mine. To think +of some things you did—those smilings and chattings, rash pointings and +gesturings. For less than these, they slew my mate, Raneds; but you had the +Prince of Heaven’s safe-conduct through all ambuscades.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, all is owing to Providence, I know: but the temper of my mind that +morning was more than commonly pleasant, while the sight of so much suffering, +more apparent than real, added to my good-nature, compassion, and charity, +happily interweaving the three. Had it been otherwise, doubtless, as you hint, +some of my interferences might have ended unhappily enough. Besides, those +feelings I spoke of enabled me to get the better of momentary distrust, at +times when acuteness might have cost me my life, without saving +another’s. Only at the end did my suspicions get the better of me, and +you know how wide of the mark they then proved.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wide, indeed,” said Don Benito, sadly; “you were with me all +day; stood with me, sat with me, talked with me, looked at me, ate with me, +drank with me; and yet, your last act was to clutch for a monster, not only an +innocent man, but the most pitiable of all men. To such degree may malign +machinations and deceptions impose. So far may even the best man err, in +judging the conduct of one with the recesses of whose condition he is not +acquainted. But you were forced to it; and you were in time undeceived. Would +that, in both respects, it was so ever, and with all men.” +</p> + +<p> +“You generalize, Don Benito; and mournfully enough. But the past is +passed; why moralize upon it? Forget it. See, yon bright sun has forgotten it +all, and the blue sea, and the blue sky; these have turned over new +leaves.” +</p> + +<p> +“Because they have no memory,” he dejectedly replied; +“because they are not human.” +</p> + +<p> +“But these mild trades that now fan your cheek, do they not come with a +human-like healing to you? Warm friends, steadfast friends are the +trades.” +</p> + +<p> +“With their steadfastness they but waft me to my tomb, Señor,” was +the foreboding response. +</p> + +<p> +“You are saved,” cried Captain Delano, more and more astonished and +pained; “you are saved: what has cast such a shadow upon you?” +</p> + +<p> +“The negro.” +</p> + +<p> +There was silence, while the moody man sat, slowly and unconsciously gathering +his mantle about him, as if it were a pall. +</p> + +<p> +There was no more conversation that day. +</p> + +<p> +But if the Spaniard’s melancholy sometimes ended in muteness upon topics +like the above, there were others upon which he never spoke at all; on which, +indeed, all his old reserves were piled. Pass over the worst, and, only to +elucidate let an item or two of these be cited. The dress, so precise and +costly, worn by him on the day whose events have been narrated, had not +willingly been put on. And that silver-mounted sword, apparent symbol of +despotic command, was not, indeed, a sword, but the ghost of one. The scabbard, +artificially stiffened, was empty. +</p> + +<p> +As for the black—whose brain, not body, had schemed and led the revolt, +with the plot—his slight frame, inadequate to that which it held, had at +once yielded to the superior muscular strength of his captor, in the boat. +Seeing all was over, he uttered no sound, and could not be forced to. His +aspect seemed to say, since I cannot do deeds, I will not speak words. Put in +irons in the hold, with the rest, he was carried to Lima. During the passage, +Don Benito did not visit him. Nor then, nor at any time after, would he look at +him. Before the tribunal he refused. When pressed by the judges he fainted. On +the testimony of the sailors alone rested the legal identity of Babo. +</p> + +<p> +Some months after, dragged to the gibbet at the tail of a mule, the black met +his voiceless end. The body was burned to ashes; but for many days, the head, +that hive of subtlety, fixed on a pole in the Plaza, met, unabashed, the gaze +of the whites; and across the Plaza looked towards St. Bartholomew’s +church, in whose vaults slept then, as now, the recovered bones of Aranda: and +across the Rimac bridge looked towards the monastery, on Mount Agonia without; +where, three months after being dismissed by the court, Benito Cereno, borne on +the bier, did, indeed, follow his leader. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>THE LIGHTNING-ROD MAN.</h2> + +<p> +What grand irregular thunder, thought I, standing on my hearth-stone among the +Acroceraunian hills, as the scattered bolts boomed overhead, and crashed down +among the valleys, every bolt followed by zigzag irradiations, and swift slants +of sharp rain, which audibly rang, like a charge of spear-points, on my low +shingled roof. I suppose, though, that the mountains hereabouts break and churn +up the thunder, so that it is far more glorious here than on the plain. +Hark!—someone at the door. Who is this that chooses a time of thunder for +making calls? And why don’t he, man-fashion, use the knocker, instead of +making that doleful undertaker’s clatter with his fist against the hollow +panel? But let him in. Ah, here he comes. “Good day, sir:” an +entire stranger. “Pray be seated.” What is that strange-looking +walking-stick he carries: “A fine thunder-storm, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fine?—Awful!” +</p> + +<p> +“You are wet. Stand here on the hearth before the fire.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not for worlds!” +</p> + +<p> +The stranger still stood in the exact middle of the cottage, where he had first +planted himself. His singularity impelled a closer scrutiny. A lean, gloomy +figure. Hair dark and lank, mattedly streaked over his brow. His sunken +pitfalls of eyes were ringed by indigo halos, and played with an innocuous sort +of lightning: the gleam without the bolt. The whole man was dripping. He stood +in a puddle on the bare oak floor: his strange walking-stick vertically resting +at his side. +</p> + +<p> +It was a polished copper rod, four feet long, lengthwise attached to a neat +wooden staff, by insertion into two balls of greenish glass, ringed with copper +bands. The metal rod terminated at the top tripodwise, in three keen tines, +brightly gilt. He held the thing by the wooden part alone. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” said I, bowing politely, “have I the honor of a visit +from that illustrious god, Jupiter Tonans? So stood he in the Greek statue of +old, grasping the lightning-bolt. If you be he, or his viceroy, I have to thank +you for this noble storm you have brewed among our mountains. Listen: That was +a glorious peal. Ah, to a lover of the majestic, it is a good thing to have the +Thunderer himself in one’s cottage. The thunder grows finer for that. But +pray be seated. This old rush-bottomed arm-chair, I grant, is a poor substitute +for your evergreen throne on Olympus; but, condescend to be seated.” +</p> + +<p> +While I thus pleasantly spoke, the stranger eyed me, half in wonder, and half +in a strange sort of horror; but did not move a foot. +</p> + +<p> +“Do, sir, be seated; you need to be dried ere going forth again.” +</p> + +<p> +I planted the chair invitingly on the broad hearth, where a little fire had +been kindled that afternoon to dissipate the dampness, not the cold; for it was +early in the month of September. +</p> + +<p> +But without heeding my solicitation, and still standing in the middle of the +floor, the stranger gazed at me portentously and spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” said he, “excuse me; but instead of my accepting your +invitation to be seated on the hearth there, I solemnly warn <i>you</i>, that +you had best accept <i>mine</i>, and stand with me in the middle of the room. +Good heavens!” he cried, starting—“there is another of those +awful crashes. I warn you, sir, quit the hearth.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Jupiter Tonans,” said I, quietly rolling my body on the stone, +“I stand very well here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you so horridly ignorant, then,” he cried, “as not to +know, that by far the most dangerous part of a house, during such a terrific +tempest as this, is the fire-place?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, I did not know that,” involuntarily stepping upon the first +board next to the stone. +</p> + +<p> +The stranger now assumed such an unpleasant air of successful admonition, +that—quite involuntarily again—I stepped back upon the hearth, and +threw myself into the erectest, proudest posture I could command. But I said +nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“For Heaven’s sake,” he cried, with a strange mixture of +alarm and intimidation—“for Heaven’s sake, get off the +hearth! Know you not, that the heated air and soot are conductors;—to say +nothing of those immense iron fire-dogs? Quit the spot—I conjure—I +command you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Jupiter Tonans, I am not accustomed to be commanded in my own +house.” +</p> + +<p> +“Call me not by that pagan name. You are profane in this time of +terror.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, will you be so good as to tell me your business? If you seek +shelter from the storm, you are welcome, so long as you be civil; but if you +come on business, open it forthwith. Who are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am a dealer in lightning-rods,” said the stranger, softening his +tone; “my special business is—Merciful heaven! what a +crash!—Have you ever been struck—your premises, I mean? No? +It’s best to be provided;”—significantly rattling his +metallic staff on the floor;—“by nature, there are no castles in +thunder-storms; yet, say but the word, and of this cottage I can make a +Gibraltar by a few waves of this wand. Hark, what Himalayas of +concussions!” +</p> + +<p> +“You interrupted yourself; your special business you were about to speak +of.” +</p> + +<p> +“My special business is to travel the country for orders for +lightning-rods. This is my specimen-rod;” tapping his staff; “I +have the best of references”—fumbling in his pockets. “In +Criggan last month, I put up three-and-twenty rods on only five +buildings.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let me see. Was it not at Criggan last week, about midnight on Saturday, +that the steeple, the big elm, and the assembly-room cupola were struck? Any of +your rods there?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not on the tree and cupola, but the steeple.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of what use is your rod, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of life-and-death use. But my workman was heedless. In fitting the rod +at top to the steeple, he allowed a part of the metal to graze the tin +sheeting. Hence the accident. Not my fault, but his. Hark!” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind. That clap burst quite loud enough to be heard without +finger-pointing. Did you hear of the event at Montreal last year? A servant +girl struck at her bed-side with a rosary in her hand; the beads being metal. +Does your beat extend into the Canadas?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. And I hear that there, iron rods only are in use. They should have +<i>mine</i>, which are copper. Iron is easily fused. Then they draw out the rod +so slender, that it has not body enough to conduct the full electric current. +The metal melts; the building is destroyed. My copper rods never act so. Those +Canadians are fools. Some of them knob the rod at the top, which risks a deadly +explosion, instead of imperceptibly carrying down the current into the earth, +as this sort of rod does. <i>Mine</i> is the only true rod. Look at it. Only +one dollar a foot.” +</p> + +<p> +“This abuse of your own calling in another might make one distrustful +with respect to yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hark! The thunder becomes less muttering. It is nearing us, and nearing +the earth, too. Hark! One crammed crash! All the vibrations made one by +nearness. Another flash. Hold!” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you?” I said, seeing him now, instantaneously +relinquishing his staff, lean intently forward towards the window, with his +right fore and middle fingers on his left wrist. But ere the words had well +escaped me, another exclamation escaped him. +</p> + +<p> +“Crash! only three pulses—less than a third of a mile +off—yonder, somewhere in that wood. I passed three stricken oaks there, +ripped out new and glittering. The oak draws lightning more than other timber, +having iron in solution in its sap. Your floor here seems oak. +</p> + +<p> +“Heart-of-oak. From the peculiar time of your call upon me, I suppose you +purposely select stormy weather for your journeys. When the thunder is roaring, +you deem it an hour peculiarly favorable for producing impressions favorable to +your trade.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hark!—Awful!” +</p> + +<p> +“For one who would arm others with fear you seem unbeseemingly timorous +yourself. Common men choose fair weather for their travels: you choose +thunder-storms; and yet—” +</p> + +<p> +“That I travel in thunder-storms, I grant; but not without particular +precautions, such as only a lightning-rod man may know. Hark! Quick—look +at my specimen rod. Only one dollar a foot.” +</p> + +<p> +“A very fine rod, I dare say. But what are these particular precautions +of yours? Yet first let me close yonder shutters; the slanting rain is beating +through the sash. I will bar up.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you mad? Know you not that yon iron bar is a swift conductor? +Desist.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will simply close the shutters, then, and call my boy to bring me a +wooden bar. Pray, touch the bell-pull there. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you frantic? That bell-wire might blast you. Never touch bell-wire +in a thunder-storm, nor ring a bell of any sort.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor those in belfries? Pray, will you tell me where and how one may be +safe in a time like this? Is there any part of my house I may touch with hopes +of my life?” +</p> + +<p> +“There is; but not where you now stand. Come away from the wall. The +current will sometimes run down a wall, and—a man being a better +conductor than a wall—it would leave the wall and run into him. Swoop! +<i>That</i> must have fallen very nigh. That must have been globular +lightning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very probably. Tell me at once, which is, in your opinion, the safest +part of this house? +</p> + +<p> +“This room, and this one spot in it where I stand. Come hither.” +</p> + +<p> +“The reasons first.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hark!—after the flash the gust—the sashes shiver—the +house, the house!—Come hither to me!” +</p> + +<p> +“The reasons, if you please.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come hither to me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you again, I think I will try my old stand—the hearth. And +now, Mr. Lightning-rod-man, in the pauses of the thunder, be so good as to tell +me your reasons for esteeming this one room of the house the safest, and your +own one stand-point there the safest spot in it.” +</p> + +<p> +There was now a little cessation of the storm for a while. The Lightning-rod +man seemed relieved, and replied:— +</p> + +<p> +“Your house is a one-storied house, with an attic and a cellar; this room +is between. Hence its comparative safety. Because lightning sometimes passes +from the clouds to the earth, and sometimes from the earth to the clouds. Do +you comprehend?—and I choose the middle of the room, because if the +lightning should strike the house at all, it would come down the chimney or +walls; so, obviously, the further you are from them, the better. Come hither to +me, now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Presently. Something you just said, instead of alarming me, has +strangely inspired confidence.” +</p> + +<p> +“What have I said?” +</p> + +<p> +“You said that sometimes lightning flashes from the earth to the +clouds.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, the returning-stroke, as it is called; when the earth, being +overcharged with the fluid, flashes its surplus upward.” +</p> + +<p> +“The returning-stroke; that is, from earth to sky. Better and better. But +come here on the hearth and dry yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am better here, and better wet.” +</p> + +<p> +“How?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is the safest thing you can do—Hark, again!—to get +yourself thoroughly drenched in a thunder-storm. Wet clothes are better +conductors than the body; and so, if the lightning strike, it might pass down +the wet clothes without touching the body. The storm deepens again. Have you a +rug in the house? Rugs are non-conductors. Get one, that I may stand on it +here, and you, too. The skies blacken—it is dusk at noon. Hark!—the +rug, the rug!” +</p> + +<p> +I gave him one; while the hooded mountains seemed closing and tumbling into the +cottage. +</p> + +<p> +“And now, since our being dumb will not help us,” said I, resuming +my place, “let me hear your precautions in traveling during +thunder-storms.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait till this one is passed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, proceed with the precautions. You stand in the safest possible +place according to your own account. Go on.” +</p> + +<p> +“Briefly, then. I avoid pine-trees, high houses, lonely barns, upland +pastures, running water, flocks of cattle and sheep, a crowd of men. If I +travel on foot—as to-day—I do not walk fast; if in my buggy, I +touch not its back or sides; if on horseback, I dismount and lead the horse. +But of all things, I avoid tall men.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do I dream? Man avoid man? and in danger-time, too.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tall men in a thunder-storm I avoid. Are you so grossly ignorant as not +to know, that the height of a six-footer is sufficient to discharge an electric +cloud upon him? Are not lonely Kentuckians, ploughing, smit in the unfinished +furrow? Nay, if the six-footer stand by running water, the cloud will sometimes +<i>select</i> him as its conductor to that running water. Hark! Sure, yon black +pinnacle is split. Yes, a man is a good conductor. The lightning goes through +and through a man, but only peels a tree. But sir, you have kept me so long +answering your questions, that I have not yet come to business. Will you order +one of my rods? Look at this specimen one? See: it is of the best of copper. +Copper’s the best conductor. Your house is low; but being upon the +mountains, that lowness does not one whit depress it. You mountaineers are most +exposed. In mountainous countries the lightning-rod man should have most +business. Look at the specimen, sir. One rod will answer for a house so small +as this. Look over these recommendations. Only one rod, sir; cost, only twenty +dollars. Hark! There go all the granite Taconics and Hoosics dashed together +like pebbles. By the sound, that must have struck something. An elevation of +five feet above the house, will protect twenty feet radius all about the rod. +Only twenty dollars, sir—a dollar a foot. +Hark!—Dreadful!—Will you order? Will you buy? Shall I put down your +name? Think of being a heap of charred offal, like a haltered horse burnt in +his stall; and all in one flash!” +</p> + +<p> +“You pretended envoy extraordinary and minister plenipotentiary to and +from Jupiter Tonans,” laughed I; “you mere man who come here to put +you and your pipestem between clay and sky, do you think that because you can +strike a bit of green light from the Leyden jar, that you can thoroughly avert +the supernal bolt? Your rod rusts, or breaks, and where are you? Who has +empowered you, you Tetzel, to peddle round your indulgences from divine +ordinations? The hairs of our heads are numbered, and the days of our lives. In +thunder as in sunshine, I stand at ease in the hands of my God. False +negotiator, away! See, the scroll of the storm is rolled back; the house is +unharmed; and in the blue heavens I read in the rainbow, that the Deity will +not, of purpose, make war on man’s earth.” +</p> + +<p> +“Impious wretch!” foamed the stranger, blackening in the face as +the rainbow beamed, “I will publish your infidel notions.” +</p> + +<p> +The scowl grew blacker on his face; the indigo-circles enlarged round his eyes +as the storm-rings round the midnight moon. He sprang upon me; his tri-forked +thing at my heart. +</p> + +<p> +I seized it; I snapped it; I dashed it; I trod it; and dragging the dark +lightning-king out of my door, flung his elbowed, copper sceptre after him. +</p> + +<p> +But spite of my treatment, and spite of my dissuasive talk of him to my +neighbors, the Lightning-rod man still dwells in the land; still travels in +storm-time, and drives a brave trade with the fears of man. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>THE ENCANTADAS; OR, ENCHANTED ISLES</h2> + +<hr /> + +<h3>SKETCH FIRST.<br/> +THE ISLES AT LARGE.</h3> + +<p class="poem"> +—“That may not be, said then the ferryman,<br/> +Least we unweeting hap to be fordonne;<br/> +For those same islands seeming now and than,<br/> +Are not firme land, nor any certein wonne,<br/> +But stragling plots which to and fro do ronne<br/> +In the wide waters; therefore are they hight<br/> +The Wandering Islands; therefore do them shonne;<br/> +For they have oft drawne many a wandring wight<br/> +Into most deadly daunger and distressed plight;<br/> +For whosoever once hath fastened<br/> +His foot thereon may never it secure<br/> +But wandreth evermore uncertein and unsure.” +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="poem"> +“Darke, dolefull, dreary, like a greedy grave,<br/> +That still for carrion carcasses doth crave;<br/> +On top whereof ay dwelt the ghastly owl,<br/> +Shrieking his balefull note, which ever drave<br/> +Far from that haunt all other cheerful fowl,<br/> +And all about it wandring ghosts did wayle and howl.” +</p> + +<p> +Take five-and-twenty heaps of cinders dumped here and there in an outside city +lot; imagine some of them magnified into mountains, and the vacant lot the sea; +and you will have a fit idea of the general aspect of the Encantadas, or +Enchanted Isles. A group rather of extinct volcanoes than of isles; looking +much as the world at large might, after a penal conflagration. +</p> + +<p> +It is to be doubted whether any spot of earth can, in desolateness, furnish a +parallel to this group. Abandoned cemeteries of long ago, old cities by +piecemeal tumbling to their ruin, these are melancholy enough; but, like all +else which has but once been associated with humanity, they still awaken in us +some thoughts of sympathy, however sad. Hence, even the Dead Sea, along with +whatever other emotions it may at times inspire, does not fail to touch in the +pilgrim some of his less unpleasurable feelings. +</p> + +<p> +And as for solitariness; the great forests of the north, the expanses of +unnavigated waters, the Greenland ice-fields, are the profoundest of solitudes +to a human observer; still the magic of their changeable tides and seasons +mitigates their terror; because, though unvisited by men, those forests are +visited by the May; the remotest seas reflect familiar stars even as Lake Erie +does; and in the clear air of a fine Polar day, the irradiated, azure ice shows +beautifully as malachite. +</p> + +<p> +But the special curse, as one may call it, of the Encantadas, that which exalts +them in desolation above Idumea and the Pole, is, that to them change never +comes; neither the change of seasons nor of sorrows. Cut by the Equator, they +know not autumn, and they know not spring; while already reduced to the lees of +fire, ruin itself can work little more upon them. The showers refresh the +deserts; but in these isles, rain never falls. Like split Syrian gourds left +withering in the sun, they are cracked by an everlasting drought beneath a +torrid sky. “Have mercy upon me,” the wailing spirit of the +Encantadas seems to cry, “and send Lazarus that he may dip the tip of his +finger in water and cool my tongue, for I am tormented in this flame.” +</p> + +<p> +Another feature in these isles is their emphatic uninhabitableness. It is +deemed a fit type of all-forsaken overthrow, that the jackal should den in the +wastes of weedy Babylon; but the Encantadas refuse to harbor even the outcasts +of the beasts. Man and wolf alike disown them. Little but reptile life is here +found: tortoises, lizards, immense spiders, snakes, and that strangest anomaly +of outlandish nature, the <i>aguano</i>. No voice, no low, no howl is heard; +the chief sound of life here is a hiss. +</p> + +<p> +On most of the isles where vegetation is found at all, it is more ungrateful +than the blankness of Aracama. Tangled thickets of wiry bushes, without fruit +and without a name, springing up among deep fissures of calcined rock, and +treacherously masking them; or a parched growth of distorted cactus trees. +</p> + +<p> +In many places the coast is rock-bound, or, more properly, clinker-bound; +tumbled masses of blackish or greenish stuff like the dross of an iron-furnace, +forming dark clefts and caves here and there, into which a ceaseless sea pours +a fury of foam; overhanging them with a swirl of gray, haggard mist, amidst +which sail screaming flights of unearthly birds heightening the dismal din. +However calm the sea without, there is no rest for these swells and those +rocks; they lash and are lashed, even when the outer ocean is most at peace +with, itself. On the oppressive, clouded days, such as are peculiar to this +part of the watery Equator, the dark, vitrified masses, many of which raise +themselves among white whirlpools and breakers in detached and perilous places +off the shore, present a most Plutonian sight. In no world but a fallen one +could such lands exist. +</p> + +<p> +Those parts of the strand free from the marks of fire, stretch away in wide +level beaches of multitudinous dead shells, with here and there decayed bits of +sugar-cane, bamboos, and cocoanuts, washed upon this other and darker world +from the charming palm isles to the westward and southward; all the way from +Paradise to Tartarus; while mixed with the relics of distant beauty you will +sometimes see fragments of charred wood and mouldering ribs of wrecks. Neither +will any one be surprised at meeting these last, after observing the +conflicting currents which eddy throughout nearly all the wide channels of the +entire group. The capriciousness of the tides of air sympathizes with those of +the sea. Nowhere is the wind so light, baffling, and every way unreliable, and +so given to perplexing calms, as at the Encantadas. Nigh a month has been spent +by a ship going from one isle to another, though but ninety miles between; for +owing to the force of the current, the boats employed to tow barely suffice to +keep the craft from sweeping upon the cliffs, but do nothing towards +accelerating her voyage. Sometimes it is impossible for a vessel from afar to +fetch up with the group itself, unless large allowances for prospective lee-way +have been made ere its coming in sight. And yet, at other times, there is a +mysterious indraft, which irresistibly draws a passing vessel among the isles, +though not bound to them. +</p> + +<p> +True, at one period, as to some extent at the present day, large fleets of +whalemen cruised for spermaceti upon what some seamen call the Enchanted +Ground. But this, as in due place will be described, was off the great outer +isle of Albemarle, away from the intricacies of the smaller isles, where there +is plenty of sea-room; and hence, to that vicinity, the above remarks do not +altogether apply; though even there the current runs at times with singular +force, shifting, too, with as singular a caprice. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, there are seasons when currents quite unaccountable prevail for a great +distance round about the total group, and are so strong and irregular as to +change a vessel’s course against the helm, though sailing at the rate of +four or five miles the hour. The difference in the reckonings of navigators, +produced by these causes, along with the light and variable winds, long +nourished a persuasion, that there existed two distinct clusters of isles in +the parallel of the Encantadas, about a hundred leagues apart. Such was the +idea of their earlier visitors, the Buccaneers; and as late as 1750, the charts +of that part of the Pacific accorded with the strange delusion. And this +apparent fleetingness and unreality of the locality of the isles was most +probably one reason for the Spaniards calling them the Encantada, or Enchanted +Group. +</p> + +<p> +But not uninfluenced by their character, as they now confessedly exist, the +modern voyager will be inclined to fancy that the bestowal of this name might +have in part originated in that air of spell-bound desertness which so +significantly invests the isles. Nothing can better suggest the aspect of once +living things malignly crumbled from ruddiness into ashes. Apples of Sodom, +after touching, seem these isles. +</p> + +<p> +However wavering their place may seem by reason of the currents, they +themselves, at least to one upon the shore, appear invariably the same: fixed, +cast, glued into the very body of cadaverous death. +</p> + +<p> +Nor would the appellation, enchanted, seem misapplied in still another sense. +For concerning the peculiar reptile inhabitant of these wilds—whose +presence gives the group its second Spanish name, Gallipagos—concerning +the tortoises found here, most mariners have long cherished a superstition, not +more frightful than grotesque. They earnestly believe that all wicked +sea-officers, more especially commodores and captains, are at death (and, in +some cases, before death) transformed into tortoises; thenceforth dwelling upon +these hot aridities, sole solitary lords of Asphaltum. +</p> + +<p> +Doubtless, so quaintly dolorous a thought was originally inspired by the +woe-begone landscape itself; but more particularly, perhaps, by the tortoises. +For, apart from their strictly physical features, there is something strangely +self-condemned in the appearance of these creatures. Lasting sorrow and penal +hopelessness are in no animal form so suppliantly expressed as in theirs; while +the thought of their wonderful longevity does not fail to enhance the +impression. +</p> + +<p> +Nor even at the risk of meriting the charge of absurdly believing in +enchantments, can I restrain the admission that sometimes, even now, when +leaving the crowded city to wander out July and August among the Adirondack +Mountains, far from the influences of towns and proportionally nigh to the +mysterious ones of nature; when at such times I sit me down in the mossy head +of some deep-wooded gorge, surrounded by prostrate trunks of blasted pines and +recall, as in a dream, my other and far-distant rovings in the baked heart of +the charmed isles; and remember the sudden glimpses of dusky shells, and long +languid necks protruded from the leafless thickets; and again have beheld the +vitreous inland rocks worn down and grooved into deep ruts by ages and ages of +the slow draggings of tortoises in quest of pools of scanty water; I can hardly +resist the feeling that in my time I have indeed slept upon evilly enchanted +ground. +</p> + +<p> +Nay, such is the vividness of my memory, or the magic of my fancy, that I know +not whether I am not the occasional victim of optical delusion concerning the +Gallipagos. For, often in scenes of social merriment, and especially at revels +held by candle-light in old-fashioned mansions, so that shadows are thrown into +the further recesses of an angular and spacious room, making them put on a look +of haunted undergrowth of lonely woods, I have drawn the attention of my +comrades by my fixed gaze and sudden change of air, as I have seemed to see, +slowly emerging from those imagined solitudes, and heavily crawling along the +floor, the ghost of a gigantic tortoise, with “Memento * * * * *” +burning in live letters upon his back. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3>SKETCH SECOND.<br/> +TWO SIDES TO A TORTOISE.</h3> + +<p class="poem"> +“Most ugly shapes and horrible aspects,<br/> +Such as Dame Nature selfe mote feare to see,<br/> +Or shame, that ever should so fowle defects<br/> +From her most cunning hand escaped bee;<br/> +All dreadfull pourtraicts of deformitee.<br/> +No wonder if these do a man appall;<br/> +For all that here at home we dreadfull hold<br/> +Be but as bugs to fearen babes withall<br/> +Compared to the creatures in these isles’ entrall +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="poem"> +“Fear naught, then said the palmer, well avized,<br/> +For these same monsters are not there indeed,<br/> +But are into these fearful shapes disguized. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="poem"> +“And lifting up his vertuous staffe on high,<br/> +Then all that dreadful armie fast gan flye<br/> +Into great Zethy’s bosom, where they hidden lye.” +</p> + +<p> +In view of the description given, may one be gay upon the Encantadas? Yes: that +is, find one the gayety, and he will be gay. And, indeed, sackcloth and ashes +as they are, the isles are not perhaps unmitigated gloom. For while no +spectator can deny their claims to a most solemn and superstitious +consideration, no more than my firmest resolutions can decline to behold the +spectre-tortoise when emerging from its shadowy recess; yet even the tortoise, +dark and melancholy as it is upon the back, still possesses a bright side; its +calipee or breast-plate being sometimes of a faint yellowish or golden tinge. +Moreover, every one knows that tortoises as well as turtle are of such a make, +that if you but put them on their backs you thereby expose their bright sides +without the possibility of their recovering themselves, and turning into view +the other. But after you have done this, and because you have done this, you +should not swear that the tortoise has no dark side. Enjoy the bright, keep it +turned up perpetually if you can, but be honest, and don’t deny the +black. Neither should he, who cannot turn the tortoise from its natural +position so as to hide the darker and expose his livelier aspect, like a great +October pumpkin in the sun, for that cause declare the creature to be one total +inky blot. The tortoise is both black and bright. But let us to particulars. +</p> + +<p> +Some months before my first stepping ashore upon the group, my ship was +cruising in its close vicinity. One noon we found ourselves off the South Head +of Albemarle, and not very far from the land. Partly by way of freak, and +partly by way of spying out so strange a country, a boat’s crew was sent +ashore, with orders to see all they could, and besides, bring back whatever +tortoises they could conveniently transport. +</p> + +<p> +It was after sunset, when the adventurers returned. I looked down over the +ship’s high side as if looking down over the curb of a well, and dimly +saw the damp boat, deep in the sea with some unwonted weight. Ropes were dropt +over, and presently three huge antediluvian-looking tortoises, after much +straining, were landed on deck. They seemed hardly of the seed of earth. We had +been broad upon the waters for five long months, a period amply sufficient to +make all things of the land wear a fabulous hue to the dreamy mind. Had three +Spanish custom-house officers boarded us then, it is not unlikely that I should +have curiously stared at them, felt of them, and stroked them much as savages +serve civilized guests. But instead of three custom-house officers, behold +these really wondrous tortoises—none of your schoolboy +mud-turtles—but black as widower’s weeds, heavy as chests of plate, +with vast shells medallioned and orbed like shields, and dented and blistered +like shields that have breasted a battle, shaggy, too, here and there, with +dark green moss, and slimy with the spray of the sea. These mystic creatures, +suddenly translated by night from unutterable solitudes to our peopled deck, +affected me in a manner not easy to unfold. They seemed newly crawled forth +from beneath the foundations of the world. Yea, they seemed the identical +tortoises whereon the Hindoo plants this total sphere. With a lantern I +inspected them more closely. Such worshipful venerableness of aspect! Such +furry greenness mantling the rude peelings and healing the fissures of their +shattered shells. I no more saw three tortoises. They expanded—became +transfigured. I seemed to see three Roman Coliseums in magnificent decay. +</p> + +<p> +Ye oldest inhabitants of this, or any other isle, said I, pray, give me the +freedom of your three-walled towns. +</p> + +<p> +The great feeling inspired by these creatures was that of age:—dateless, +indefinite endurance. And in fact that any other creature can live and breathe +as long as the tortoise of the Encantadas, I will not readily believe. Not to +hint of their known capacity of sustaining life, while going without food for +an entire year, consider that impregnable armor of their living mail. What +other bodily being possesses such a citadel wherein to resist the assaults of +Time? +</p> + +<p> +As, lantern in hand, I scraped among the moss and beheld the ancient scars of +bruises received in many a sullen fall among the marly mountains of the +isle—scars strangely widened, swollen, half obliterate, and yet distorted +like those sometimes found in the bark of very hoary trees, I seemed an +antiquary of a geologist, studying the bird-tracks and ciphers upon the exhumed +slates trod by incredible creatures whose very ghosts are now defunct. +</p> + +<p> +As I lay in my hammock that night, overhead I heard the slow weary draggings of +the three ponderous strangers along the encumbered deck. Their stupidity or +their resolution was so great, that they never went aside for any impediment. +One ceased his movements altogether just before the mid-watch. At sunrise I +found him butted like a battering-ram against the immovable foot of the +foremast, and still striving, tooth and nail, to force the impossible passage. +That these tortoises are the victims of a penal, or malignant, or perhaps a +downright diabolical enchanter, seems in nothing more likely than in that +strange infatuation of hopeless toil which so often possesses them. I have +known them in their journeyings ram themselves heroically against rocks, and +long abide there, nudging, wriggling, wedging, in order to displace them, and +so hold on their inflexible path. Their crowning curse is their drudging +impulse to straightforwardness in a belittered world. +</p> + +<p> +Meeting with no such hinderance as their companion did, the other tortoises +merely fell foul of small stumbling-blocks—buckets, blocks, and coils of +rigging—and at times in the act of crawling over them would slip with an +astounding rattle to the deck. Listening to these draggings and concussions, I +thought me of the haunt from which they came; an isle full of metallic ravines +and gulches, sunk bottomlessly into the hearts of splintered mountains, and +covered for many miles with inextricable thickets. I then pictured these three +straight-forward monsters, century after century, writhing through the shades, +grim as blacksmiths; crawling so slowly and ponderously, that not only did +toad-stools and all fungus things grow beneath their feet, but a sooty moss +sprouted upon their backs. With them I lost myself in volcanic mazes; brushed +away endless boughs of rotting thickets; till finally in a dream I found myself +sitting crosslegged upon the foremost, a Brahmin similarly mounted upon either +side, forming a tripod of foreheads which upheld the universal cope. +</p> + +<p> +Such was the wild nightmare begot by my first impression of the Encantadas +tortoise. But next evening, strange to say, I sat down with my shipmates, and +made a merry repast from tortoise steaks, and tortoise stews; and supper over, +out knife, and helped convert the three mighty concave shells into three +fanciful soup-tureens, and polished the three flat yellowish calipees into +three gorgeous salvers. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3>SKETCH THIRD.<br/> +ROCK RODONDO.</h3> + +<p class="poem"> +“For they this tight the Rock of vile Reproach,<br/> +A dangerous and dreadful place,<br/> +To which nor fish nor fowl did once approach,<br/> +But yelling meaws with sea-gulls hoars and bace<br/> +And cormoyrants with birds of ravenous race,<br/> +Which still sit waiting on that dreadful clift.” +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="poem"> +“With that the rolling sea resounding soft<br/> +In his big base them fitly answered,<br/> +And on the Rock, the waves breaking aloft,<br/> +A solemn ineane unto them measured.” +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="poem"> +“Then he the boteman bad row easily,<br/> +And let him heare some part of that rare melody.” +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="poem"> +“Suddeinly an innumerable flight<br/> +Of harmefull fowles about them fluttering cride,<br/> +And with their wicked wings them oft did smight<br/> +And sore annoyed, groping in that griesly night.” +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="poem"> +“Even all the nation of unfortunate<br/> +And fatal birds about them flocked were.” +</p> + +<p> +To go up into a high stone tower is not only a very fine thing in itself, but +the very best mode of gaining a comprehensive view of the region round about. +It is all the better if this tower stand solitary and alone, like that +mysterious Newport one, or else be sole survivor of some perished castle. +</p> + +<p> +Now, with reference to the Enchanted Isles, we are fortunately supplied with +just such a noble point of observation in a remarkable rock, from its peculiar +figure called of old by the Spaniards, Rock Rodondo, or Round Rock. Some two +hundred and fifty feet high, rising straight from the sea ten miles from land, +with the whole mountainous group to the south and east. Rock Rodondo occupies, +on a large scale, very much the position which the famous Campanile or detached +Bell Tower of St. Mark does with respect to the tangled group of hoary edifices +around it. +</p> + +<p> +Ere ascending, however, to gaze abroad upon the Encantadas, this sea-tower +itself claims attention. It is visible at the distance of thirty miles; and, +fully participating in that enchantment which pervades the group, when first +seen afar invariably is mistaken for a sail. Four leagues away, of a golden, +hazy noon, it seems some Spanish Admiral’s ship, stacked up with +glittering canvas. Sail ho! Sail ho! Sail ho! from all three masts. But coming +nigh, the enchanted frigate is transformed apace into a craggy keep. +</p> + +<p> +My first visit to the spot was made in the gray of the morning. With a view of +fishing, we had lowered three boats and pulling some two miles from our vessel, +found ourselves just before dawn of day close under the moon-shadow of Rodondo. +Its aspect was heightened, and yet softened, by the strange double twilight of +the hour. The great full moon burnt in the low west like a half-spent beacon, +casting a soft mellow tinge upon the sea like that cast by a waning fire of +embers upon a midnight hearth; while along the entire east the invisible sun +sent pallid intimations of his coming. The wind was light; the waves languid; +the stars twinkled with a faint effulgence; all nature seemed supine with the +long night watch, and half-suspended in jaded expectation of the sun. This was +the critical hour to catch Rodondo in his perfect mood. The twilight was just +enough to reveal every striking point, without tearing away the dim investiture +of wonder. +</p> + +<p> +From a broken stair-like base, washed, as the steps of a water-palace, by the +waves, the tower rose in entablatures of strata to a shaven summit. These +uniform layers, which compose the mass, form its most peculiar feature. For at +their lines of junction they project flatly into encircling shelves, from top +to bottom, rising one above another in graduated series. And as the eaves of +any old barn or abbey are alive with swallows, so were all these rocky ledges +with unnumbered sea-fowl. Eaves upon eaves, and nests upon nests. Here and +there were long birdlime streaks of a ghostly white staining the tower from sea +to air, readily accounting for its sail-like look afar. All would have been +bewitchingly quiescent, were it not for the demoniac din created by the birds. +Not only were the eaves rustling with them, but they flew densely overhead, +spreading themselves into a winged and continually shifting canopy. The tower +is the resort of aquatic birds for hundreds of leagues around. To the north, to +the east, to the west, stretches nothing but eternal ocean; so that the +man-of-war hawk coming from the coasts of North America, Polynesia, or Peru, +makes his first land at Rodondo. And yet though Rodondo be terra-firma, no +land-bird ever lighted on it. Fancy a red-robin or a canary there! What a +falling into the hands of the Philistines, when the poor warbler should be +surrounded by such locust-flights of strong bandit birds, with long bills cruel +as daggers. +</p> + +<p> +I know not where one can better study the Natural History of strange sea-fowl +than at Rodondo. It is the aviary of Ocean. Birds light here which never +touched mast or tree; hermit-birds, which ever fly alone; cloud-birds, familiar +with unpierced zones of air. +</p> + +<p> +Let us first glance low down to the lowermost shelf of all, which is the +widest, too, and but a little space from high-water mark. What outlandish +beings are these? Erect as men, but hardly as symmetrical, they stand all round +the rock like sculptured caryatides, supporting the next range of eaves above. +Their bodies are grotesquely misshapen; their bills short; their feet seemingly +legless; while the members at their sides are neither fin, wing, nor arm. And +truly neither fish, flesh, nor fowl is the penguin; as an edible, pertaining +neither to Carnival nor Lent; without exception the most ambiguous and least +lovely creature yet discovered by man. Though dabbling in all three elements, +and indeed possessing some rudimental claims to all, the penguin is at home in +none. On land it stumps; afloat it sculls; in the air it flops. As if ashamed +of her failure, Nature keeps this ungainly child hidden away at the ends of the +earth, in the Straits of Magellan, and on the abased sea-story of Rodondo. +</p> + +<p> +But look, what are yon wobegone regiments drawn up on the next shelf above? +what rank and file of large strange fowl? what sea Friars of Orders Gray? +Pelicans. Their elongated bills, and heavy leathern pouches suspended thereto, +give them the most lugubrious expression. A pensive race, they stand for hours +together without motion. Their dull, ashy plumage imparts an aspect as if they +had been powdered over with cinders. A penitential bird, indeed, fitly haunting +the shores of the clinkered Encantadas, whereon tormented Job himself might +have well sat down and scraped himself with potsherds. +</p> + +<p> +Higher up now we mark the gony, or gray albatross, anomalously so called, an +unsightly unpoetic bird, unlike its storied kinsman, which is the snow-white +ghost of the haunted Capes of Hope and Horn. +</p> + +<p> +As we still ascend from shelf to shelf, we find the tenants of the tower +serially disposed in order of their magnitude:—gannets, black and +speckled haglets, jays, sea-hens, sperm-whale-birds, gulls of all +varieties:—thrones, princedoms, powers, dominating one above another in +senatorial array; while, sprinkled over all, like an ever-repeated fly in a +great piece of broidery, the stormy petrel or Mother Cary’s chicken +sounds his continual challenge and alarm. That this mysterious hummingbird of +ocean—which, had it but brilliancy of hue, might, from its evanescent +liveliness, be almost called its butterfly, yet whose chirrup under the stern +is ominous to mariners as to the peasant the death-tick sounding from behind +the chimney jamb—should have its special haunt at the Encantadas, +contributes, in the seaman’s mind, not a little to their dreary spell. +</p> + +<p> +As day advances the dissonant din augments. With ear-splitting cries the wild +birds celebrate their matins. Each moment, flights push from the tower, and +join the aerial choir hovering overhead, while their places below are supplied +by darting myriads. But down through all this discord of commotion, I hear +clear, silver, bugle-like notes unbrokenly falling, like oblique lines of +swift-slanting rain in a cascading shower. I gaze far up, and behold a +snow-white angelic thing, with one long, lance-like feather thrust out behind. +It is the bright, inspiriting chanticleer of ocean, the beauteous bird, from +its bestirring whistle of musical invocation, fitly styled the +“Boatswain’s Mate.” +</p> + +<p> +The winged, life-clouding Rodondo had its full counterpart in the finny hosts +which peopled the waters at its base. Below the water-line, the rock seemed one +honey-comb of grottoes, affording labyrinthine lurking-places for swarms of +fairy fish. All were strange; many exceedingly beautiful; and would have well +graced the costliest glass globes in which gold-fish are kept for a show. +Nothing was more striking than the complete novelty of many individuals of this +multitude. Here hues were seen as yet unpainted, and figures which are +unengraved. +</p> + +<p> +To show the multitude, avidity, and nameless fearlessness and tameness of these +fish, let me say, that often, marking through clear spaces of +water—temporarily made so by the concentric dartings of the fish above +the surface—certain larger and less unwary wights, which swam slow and +deep; our anglers would cautiously essay to drop their lines down to these +last. But in vain; there was no passing the uppermost zone. No sooner did the +hook touch the sea, than a hundred infatuates contended for the honor of +capture. Poor fish of Rodondo! in your victimized confidence, you are of the +number of those who inconsiderately trust, while they do not understand, human +nature. +</p> + +<p> +But the dawn is now fairly day. Band after band, the sea-fowl sail away to +forage the deep for their food. The tower is left solitary save the fish-caves +at its base. Its birdlime gleams in the golden rays like the whitewash of a +tall light-house, or the lofty sails of a cruiser. This moment, doubtless, +while we know it to be a dead desert rock other voyagers are taking oaths it is +a glad populous ship. +</p> + +<p> +But ropes now, and let us ascend. Yet soft, this is not so easy. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3>SKETCH FOURTH.<br/> +A PISGAH VIEW FROM THE ROCK.</h3> + +<p class="poem"> +—“That done, he leads him to the highest mount,<br/> +From whence, far off he unto him did show:”— +</p> + +<p> +If you seek to ascend Rock Rodondo, take the following prescription. Go three +voyages round the world as a main-royal-man of the tallest frigate that floats; +then serve a year or two apprenticeship to the guides who conduct strangers up +the Peak of Teneriffe; and as many more respectively to a rope-dancer, an +Indian juggler, and a chamois. This done, come and be rewarded by the view from +our tower. How we get there, we alone know. If we sought to tell others, what +the wiser were they? Suffice it, that here at the summit you and I stand. Does +any balloonist, does the outlooking man in the moon, take a broader view of +space? Much thus, one fancies, looks the universe from Milton’s celestial +battlements. A boundless watery Kentucky. Here Daniel Boone would have dwelt +content. +</p> + +<p> +Never heed for the present yonder Burnt District of the Enchanted Isles. Look +edgeways, as it were, past them, to the south. You see nothing; but permit me +to point out the direction, if not the place, of certain interesting objects in +the vast sea, which, kissing this tower’s base, we behold unscrolling +itself towards the Antarctic Pole. +</p> + +<p> +We stand now ten miles from the Equator. Yonder, to the East, some six hundred +miles, lies the continent; this Rock being just about on the parallel of Quito. +</p> + +<p> +Observe another thing here. We are at one of three uninhabited clusters, which, +at pretty nearly uniform distances from the main, sentinel, at long intervals +from each other, the entire coast of South America. In a peculiar manner, also, +they terminate the South American character of country. Of the unnumbered +Polynesian chains to the westward, not one partakes of the qualities of the +Encantadas or Gallipagos, the isles of St. Felix and St. Ambrose, the isles +Juan-Fernandez and Massafuero. Of the first, it needs not here to speak. The +second lie a little above the Southern Tropic; lofty, inhospitable, and +uninhabitable rocks, one of which, presenting two round hummocks connected by a +low reef, exactly resembles a huge double-headed shot. The last lie in the +latitude of 33°; high, wild and cloven. Juan Fernandez is sufficiently famous +without further description. Massafuero is a Spanish name, expressive of the +fact, that the isle so called lies <i>more without</i>, that is, further off +the main than its neighbor Juan. This isle Massafuero has a very imposing +aspect at a distance of eight or ten miles. Approached in one direction, in +cloudy weather, its great overhanging height and rugged contour, and more +especially a peculiar slope of its broad summits, give it much the air of a +vast iceberg drifting in tremendous poise. Its sides are split with dark +cavernous recesses, as an old cathedral with its gloomy lateral chapels. +Drawing nigh one of these gorges from sea, after a long voyage, and beholding +some tatterdemalion outlaw, staff in hand, descending its steep rocks toward +you, conveys a very queer emotion to a lover of the picturesque. +</p> + +<p> +On fishing parties from ships, at various times, I have chanced to visit each +of these groups. The impression they give to the stranger pulling close up in +his boat under their grim cliffs is, that surely he must be their first +discoverer, such, for the most part, is the unimpaired ... silence and +solitude. And here, by the way, the mode in which these isles were really first +lighted upon by Europeans is not unworthy of mention, especially as what is +about to be said, likewise applies to the original discovery of our Encantadas. +</p> + +<p> +Prior to the year 1563, the voyages made by Spanish ships from Peru to Chili, +were full of difficulty. Along this coast, the winds from the South most +generally prevail; and it had been an invariable custom to keep close in with +the land, from a superstitious conceit on the part of the Spaniards, that were +they to lose sight of it, the eternal trade-wind would waft them into unending +waters, from whence would be no return. Here, involved among tortuous capes and +headlands, shoals and reefs, beating, too, against a continual head wind, often +light, and sometimes for days and weeks sunk into utter calm, the provincial +vessels, in many cases, suffered the extremest hardships, in passages, which at +the present day seem to have been incredibly protracted. There is on record in +some collections of nautical disasters, an account of one of these ships, +which, starting on a voyage whose duration was estimated at ten days, spent +four months at sea, and indeed never again entered harbor, for in the end she +was cast away. Singular to tell, this craft never encountered a gale, but was +the vexed sport of malicious calms and currents. Thrice, out of provisions, she +put back to an intermediate port, and started afresh, but only yet again to +return. Frequent fogs enveloped her; so that no observation could be had of her +place, and once, when all hands were joyously anticipating sight of their +destination, lo! the vapors lifted and disclosed the mountains from which they +had taken their first departure. In the like deceptive vapors she at last +struck upon a reef, whence ensued a long series of calamities too sad to +detail. +</p> + +<p> +It was the famous pilot, Juan Fernandez, immortalized by the island named after +him, who put an end to these coasting tribulations, by boldly venturing the +experiment—as De Gama did before him with respect to Europe—of +standing broad out from land. Here he found the winds favorable for getting to +the South, and by running westward till beyond the influences of the trades, he +regained the coast without difficulty; making the passage which, though in a +high degree circuitous, proved far more expeditious than the nominally direct +one. Now it was upon these new tracks, and about the year 1670, or thereabouts, +that the Enchanted Isles, and the rest of the sentinel groups, as they may be +called, were discovered. Though I know of no account as to whether any of them +were found inhabited or no, it may be reasonably concluded that they have been +immemorial solitudes. But let us return to Redondo. +</p> + +<p> +Southwest from our tower lies all Polynesia, hundreds of leagues away; but +straight west, on the precise line of his parallel, no land rises till your +keel is beached upon the Kingsmills, a nice little sail of, say 5000 miles. +</p> + +<p> +Having thus by such distant references—with Rodondo the only possible +ones—settled our relative place on the sea, let us consider objects not +quite so remote. Behold the grim and charred Enchanted Isles. This nearest +crater-shaped headland is part of Albemarle, the largest of the group, being +some sixty miles or more long, and fifteen broad. Did you ever lay eye on the +real genuine Equator? Have you ever, in the largest sense, toed the Line? Well, +that identical crater-shaped headland there, all yellow lava, is cut by the +Equator exactly as a knife cuts straight through the centre of a pumpkin pie. +If you could only see so far, just to one side of that same headland, across +yon low dikey ground, you would catch sight of the isle of Narborough, the +loftiest land of the cluster; no soil whatever; one seamed clinker from top to +bottom; abounding in black caves like smithies; its metallic shore ringing +under foot like plates of iron; its central volcanoes standing grouped like a +gigantic chimney-stack. +</p> + +<p> +Narborough and Albemarle are neighbors after a quite curious fashion. A +familiar diagram will illustrate this strange neighborhood: +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> <img src="images/image01.png" width="52" +height="43" alt="[Illustration]" /> </div> + +<p> +Cut a channel at the above letter joint, and the middle transverse limb is +Narborough, and all the rest is Albemarle. Volcanic Narborough lies in the +black jaws of Albemarle like a wolf’s red tongue in his open month. +</p> + +<p> +If now you desire the population of Albemarle, I will give you, in round +numbers, the statistics, according to the most reliable estimates made upon the +spot: +</p> + +<table summary="" style="margin-left: 3em; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em;"> + +<tr> +<td>Men, </td><td>none.</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>Ant-eaters,</td><td>unknown.</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>Man-haters,</td><td>unknown.</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>Lizards,</td><td>500,000.</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>Snakes,</td><td>500,000.</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>Spiders,</td><td>10,000,000.</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>Salamanders,</td><td>unknown.</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>Devils,</td><td>do.</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>Making a clean total of</td><td>11,000,000,</td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<p class="noindent"> +exclusive of an incomputable host of fiends, ant-eaters, man-haters, and +salamanders. +</p> + +<p> +Albemarle opens his mouth towards the setting sun. His distended jaws form a +great bay, which Narborough, his tongue, divides into halves, one whereof is +called Weather Bay, the other Lee Bay; while the volcanic promontories, +terminating his coasts, are styled South Head and North Head. I note this, +because these bays are famous in the annals of the Sperm Whale Fishery. The +whales come here at certain seasons to calve. When ships first cruised +hereabouts, I am told, they used to blockade the entrance of Lee Bay, when +their boats going round by Weather Bay, passed through Narborough channel, and +so had the Leviathans very neatly in a pen. +</p> + +<p> +The day after we took fish at the base of this Round Tower, we had a fine wind, +and shooting round the north headland, suddenly descried a fleet of full thirty +sail, all beating to windward like a squadron in line. A brave sight as ever +man saw. A most harmonious concord of rushing keels. Their thirty kelsons +hummed like thirty harp-strings, and looked as straight whilst they left their +parallel traces on the sea. But there proved too many hunters for the game. The +fleet broke up, and went their separate ways out of sight, leaving my own ship +and two trim gentlemen of London. These last, finding no luck either, likewise +vanished; and Lee Bay, with all its appurtenances, and without a rival, +devolved to us. +</p> + +<p> +The way of cruising here is this. You keep hovering about the entrance of the +bay, in one beat and out the next. But at times—not always, as in other +parts of the group—a racehorse of a current sweeps right across its +mouth. So, with all sails set, you carefully ply your tacks. How often, +standing at the foremast head at sunrise, with our patient prow pointed in +between these isles, did I gaze upon that land, not of cakes, but of clinkers, +not of streams of sparkling water, but arrested torrents of tormented lava. +</p> + +<p> +As the ship runs in from the open sea, Narborough presents its side in one dark +craggy mass, soaring up some five or six thousand feet, at which point it hoods +itself in heavy clouds, whose lowest level fold is as clearly defined against +the rocks as the snow-line against the Andes. There is dire mischief going on +in that upper dark. There toil the demons of fire, who, at intervals, irradiate +the nights with a strange spectral illumination for miles and miles around, but +unaccompanied by any further demonstration; or else, suddenly announce +themselves by terrific concussions, and the full drama of a volcanic eruption. +The blacker that cloud by day, the more may you look for light by night. Often +whalemen have found themselves cruising nigh that burning mountain when all +aglow with a ball-room blaze. Or, rather, glass-works, you may call this same +vitreous isle of Narborough, with its tall chimney-stacks. +</p> + +<p> +Where we still stand, here on Rodondo, we cannot see all the other isles, but +it is a good place from which to point out where they lie. Yonder, though, to +the E.N.E., I mark a distant dusky ridge. It is Abington Isle, one of the most +northerly of the group; so solitary, remote, and blank, it looks like +No-Man’s Land seen off our northern shore. I doubt whether two human +beings ever touched upon that spot. So far as yon Abington Isle is concerned, +Adam and his billions of posterity remain uncreated. +</p> + +<p> +Ranging south of Abington, and quite out of sight behind the long spine of +Albemarle, lies James’s Isle, so called by the early Buccaneers after the +luckless Stuart, Duke of York. Observe here, by the way, that, excepting the +isles particularized in comparatively recent times, and which mostly received +the names of famous Admirals, the Encantadas were first christened by the +Spaniards; but these Spanish names were generally effaced on English charts by +the subsequent christenings of the Buccaneers, who, in the middle of the +seventeenth century, called them after English noblemen and kings. Of these +loyal freebooters and the things which associate their name with the +Encantadas, we shall hear anon. Nay, for one little item, immediately; for +between James’s Isle and Albemarle, lies a fantastic islet, strangely +known as “Cowley’s Enchanted Isle.” But, as all the group is +deemed enchanted, the reason must be given for the spell within a spell +involved by this particular designation. The name was bestowed by that +excellent Buccaneer himself, on his first visit here. Speaking in his published +voyages of this spot, he says—“My fancy led me to call it +Cowley’s Enchanted Isle, for, we having had a sight of it upon several +points of the compass, it appeared always in so many different forms; sometimes +like a ruined fortification; upon another point like a great city,” etc. +No wonder though, that among the Encantadas all sorts of ocular deceptions and +mirages should be met. +</p> + +<p> +That Cowley linked his name with this self-transforming and bemocking isle, +suggests the possibility that it conveyed to him some meditative image of +himself. At least, as is not impossible, if he were any relative of the +mildly-thoughtful and self-upbraiding poet Cowley, who lived about his time, +the conceit might seem unwarranted; for that sort of thing evinced in the +naming of this isle runs in the blood, and may be seen in pirates as in poets. +</p> + +<p> +Still south of James’s Isle lie Jervis Isle, Duncan Isle, +Grossman’s Isle, Brattle Isle, Wood’s Isle, Chatham Isle, and +various lesser isles, for the most part an archipelago of aridities, without +inhabitant, history, or hope of either in all time to come. But not far from +these are rather notable isles—Barrington, Charles’s, Norfolk, and +Hood’s. Succeeding chapters will reveal some ground for their notability. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3>SKETCH FIFTH.<br/> +THE FRIGATE, AND SHIP FLYAWAY.</h3> + +<p class="poem"> +“Looking far forth into the ocean wide,<br/> +A goodly ship with banners bravely dight,<br/> +And flag in her top-gallant I espide,<br/> +Through the main sea making her merry flight.” +</p> + +<p> +Ere quitting Rodondo, it must not be omitted that here, in 1813, the U.S. +frigate Essex, Captain David Porter, came near leaving her bones. Lying +becalmed one morning with a strong current setting her rapidly towards the +rock, a strange sail was descried, which—not out of keeping with alleged +enchantments of the neighborhood—seemed to be staggering under a violent +wind, while the frigate lay lifeless as if spell-bound. But a light air +springing up, all sail was made by the frigate in chase of the enemy, as +supposed—he being deemed an English whale-ship—but the rapidity of +the current was so great, that soon all sight was lost of him; and, at +meridian, the Essex, spite of her drags, was driven so close under the +foam-lashed cliffs of Rodondo that, for a time, all hands gave her up. A smart +breeze, however, at last helped her off, though the escape was so critical as +to seem almost miraculous. +</p> + +<p> +Thus saved from destruction herself, she now made use of that salvation to +destroy the other vessel, if possible. Renewing the chase in the direction in +which the stranger had disappeared, sight was caught of him the following +morning. Upon being descried he hoisted American colors and stood away from the +Essex. A calm ensued; when, still confident that the stranger was an +Englishman, Porter dispatched a cutter, not to board the enemy, but drive back +his boats engaged in towing him. The cutter succeeded. Cutters were +subsequently sent to capture him; the stranger now showing English colors in +place of American. But, when the frigate’s boats were within a short +distance of their hoped-for prize, another sudden breeze sprang up; the +stranger, under all sail, bore off to the westward, and, ere night, was hull +down ahead of the Essex, which, all this time, lay perfectly becalmed. +</p> + +<p> +This enigmatic craft—American in the morning, and English in the +evening—her sails full of wind in a calm—was never again beheld. An +enchanted ship no doubt. So, at least, the sailors swore. +</p> + +<p> +This cruise of the Essex in the Pacific during the war of 1812, is, perhaps, +the strangest and most stirring to be found in the history of the American +navy. She captured the furthest wandering vessels; visited the remotest seas +and isles; long hovered in the charmed vicinity of the enchanted group; and, +finally, valiantly gave up the ghost fighting two English frigates in the +harbor of Valparaiso. Mention is made of her here for the same reason that the +Buccaneers will likewise receive record; because, like them, by long cruising +among the isles, tortoise-hunting upon their shores, and generally exploring +them; for these and other reasons, the Essex is peculiarly associated with the +Encantadas. +</p> + +<p> +Here be it said that you have but three, eye-witness authorities worth +mentioning touching the Enchanted Isles:—Cowley, the Buccaneer (1684); +Colnet the whaling-ground explorer (1798); Porter, the post captain (1813). +Other than these you have but barren, bootless allusions from some few passing +voyagers or compilers. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3>SKETCH SIXTH.<br/> +BARRINGTON ISLE AND THE BUCCANEERS.</h3> + +<p class="poem"> +“Let us all servile base subjection scorn,<br/> +And as we be sons of the earth so wide,<br/> +Let us our father’s heritage divide,<br/> +And challenge to ourselves our portions dew<br/> +Of all the patrimony, which a few<br/> +hold on hugger-mugger in their hand.” +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="poem"> +“Lords of the world, and so will wander free,<br/> +Whereso us listeth, uncontroll’d of any.” +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="poem"> +“How bravely now we live, how jocund, how near the<br/> +first inheritance, without fear, how free from little troubles!” +</p> + +<p> +Near two centuries ago Barrington Isle was the resort of that famous wing of +the West Indian Buccaneers, which, upon their repulse from the Cuban waters, +crossing the Isthmus of Darien, ravaged the Pacific side of the Spanish +colonies, and, with the regularity and timing of a modern mail, waylaid the +royal treasure-ships plying between Manilla and Acapulco. After the toils of +piratic war, here they came to say their prayers, enjoy their free-and-easies, +count their crackers from the cask, their doubloons from the keg, and measure +their silks of Asia with long Toledos for their yard-sticks. +</p> + +<p> +As a secure retreat, an undiscoverable hiding-place, no spot in those days +could have been better fitted. In the centre of a vast and silent sea, but very +little traversed—surrounded by islands, whose inhospitable aspect might +well drive away the chance navigator—and yet within a few days’ +sail of the opulent countries which they made their prey—the unmolested +Buccaneers found here that tranquillity which they fiercely denied to every +civilized harbor in that part of the world. Here, after stress of weather, or a +temporary drubbing at the hands of their vindictive foes, or in swift flight +with golden booty, those old marauders came, and lay snugly out of all +harm’s reach. But not only was the place a harbor of safety, and a bower +of ease, but for utility in other things it was most admirable. +</p> + +<p> +Barrington Isle is, in many respects, singularly adapted to careening, +refitting, refreshing, and other seamen’s purposes. Not only has it good +water, and good anchorage, well sheltered from all winds by the high land of +Albemarle, but it is the least unproductive isle of the group. Tortoises good +for food, trees good for fuel, and long grass good for bedding, abound here, +and there are pretty natural walks, and several landscapes to be seen. Indeed, +though in its locality belonging to the Enchanted group, Barrington Isle is so +unlike most of its neighbors, that it would hardly seem of kin to them. +</p> + +<p> +“I once landed on its western side,” says a sentimental voyager +long ago, “where it faces the black buttress of Albemarle. I walked +beneath groves of trees—not very lofty, and not palm trees, or orange +trees, or peach trees, to be sure—but, for all that, after long +sea-faring, very beautiful to walk under, even though they supplied no fruit. +And here, in calm spaces at the heads of glades, and on the shaded tops of +slopes commanding the most quiet scenery—what do you think I saw? Seats +which might have served Brahmins and presidents of peace societies. Fine old +ruins of what had once been symmetric lounges of stone and turf, they bore +every mark both of artificialness and age, and were, undoubtedly, made by the +Buccaneers. One had been a long sofa, with back and arms, just such a sofa as +the poet Gray might have loved to throw himself upon, his Crebillon in hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Though they sometimes tarried here for months at a time, and used the +spot for a storing-place for spare spars, sails, and casks; yet it is highly +improbable that the Buccaneers ever erected dwelling-houses upon the isle. They +never were here except their ships remained, and they would most likely have +slept on board. I mention this, because I cannot avoid the thought, that it is +hard to impute the construction of these romantic seats to any other motive +than one of pure peacefulness and kindly fellowship with nature. That the +Buccaneers perpetrated the greatest outrages is very true—that some of +them were mere cutthroats is not to be denied; but we know that here and there +among their host was a Dampier, a Wafer, and a Cowley, and likewise other men, +whose worst reproach was their desperate fortunes—whom persecution, or +adversity, or secret and unavengeable wrongs, had driven from Christian society +to seek the melancholy solitude or the guilty adventures of the sea. At any +rate, long as those ruins of seats on Barrington remain, the most singular +monuments are furnished to the fact, that all of the Buccaneers were not +unmitigated monsters. +</p> + +<p> +“But during my ramble on the isle I was not long in discovering other +tokens, of things quite in accordance with those wild traits, popularly, and no +doubt truly enough, imputed to the freebooters at large. Had I picked up old +sails and rusty hoops I would only have thought of the ship’s carpenter +and cooper. But I found old cutlasses and daggers reduced to mere threads of +rust, which, doubtless, had stuck between Spanish ribs ere now. These were +signs of the murderer and robber; the reveler likewise had left his trace. +Mixed with shells, fragments of broken jars were lying here and there, high up +upon the beach. They were precisely like the jars now used upon the Spanish +coast for the wine and Pisco spirits of that country. +</p> + +<p> +“With a rusty dagger-fragment in one hand, and a bit of a wine-jar in +another, I sat me down on the ruinous green sofa I have spoken of, and +bethought me long and deeply of these same Buccaneers. Could it be possible, +that they robbed and murdered one day, reveled the next, and rested themselves +by turning meditative philosophers, rural poets, and seat-builders on the +third? Not very improbable, after all. For consider the vacillations of a man. +Still, strange as it may seem, I must also abide by the more charitable +thought; namely, that among these adventurers were some gentlemanly, +companionable souls, capable of genuine tranquillity and virtue.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3>SKETCH SEVENTH.<br/> +CHARLES’S ISLE AND THE DOG-KING.</h3> + +<p class="poem"> +—So with outragious cry,<br/> +A thousand villeins round about him swarmed<br/> +Out of the rocks and caves adjoining nye;<br/> +Vile caitive wretches, ragged, rude, deformed;<br/> +All threatning death, all in straunge manner armed;<br/> +Some with unweldy clubs, some with long speares.<br/> +Some rusty knives, some staves in fier warmd. +</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="poem"> +We will not be of any occupation,<br/> +Let such vile vassals, born to base vocation,<br/> +Drudge in the world, and for their living droyle,<br/> +Which have no wit to live withouten toyle. +</p> + +<p> +Southwest of Barrington lies Charles’s Isle. And hereby hangs a history +which I gathered long ago from a shipmate learned in all the lore of outlandish +life. +</p> + +<p> +During the successful revolt of the Spanish provinces from Old Spain, there +fought on behalf of Peru a certain Creole adventurer from Cuba, who, by his +bravery and good fortune, at length advanced himself to high rank in the +patriot army. The war being ended, Peru found itself like many valorous +gentlemen, free and independent enough, but with few shot in the locker. In +other words, Peru had not wherewithal to pay off its troops. But the +Creole—I forget his name—volunteered to take his pay in lands. So +they told him he might have his pick of the Enchanted Isles, which were then, +as they still remain, the nominal appanage of Peru. The soldier straightway +embarks thither, explores the group, returns to Callao, and says he will take a +deed of Charles’s Isle. Moreover, this deed must stipulate that +thenceforth Charles’s Isle is not only the sole property of the Creole, +but is forever free of Peru, even as Peru of Spain. To be short, this +adventurer procures himself to be made in effect Supreme Lord of the Island, +one of the princes of the powers of the earth.<a href="#fn1" +name="fnref1"><sup>[1]</sup></a> +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn1"></a> <a href="#fnref1">[1]</a> +The American Spaniards have long been in the habit of making presents of +islands to deserving individuals. The pilot Juan Fernandez procured a deed of +the isle named after him, and for some years resided there before Selkirk came. +It is supposed, however, that he eventually contracted the blues upon his +princely property, for after a time he returned to the main, and as report +goes, became a very garrulous barber in the city of Lima. +</p> + +<p> +He now sends forth a proclamation inviting subjects to his as yet unpopulated +kingdom. Some eighty souls, men and women, respond; and being provided by their +leader with necessaries, and tools of various sorts, together with a few cattle +and goats, take ship for the promised land; the last arrival on board, prior to +sailing, being the Creole himself, accompanied, strange to say, by a +disciplined cavalry company of large grim dogs. These, it was observed on the +passage, refusing to consort with the emigrants, remained aristocratically +grouped around their master on the elevated quarter-deck, casting disdainful +glances forward upon the inferior rabble there; much as, from the ramparts, the +soldiers of a garrison, thrown into a conquered town, eye the inglorious +citizen-mob over which they are set to watch. +</p> + +<p> +Now Charles’s Isle not only resembles Barrington Isle in being much more +inhabitable than other parts of the group, but it is double the size of +Barrington, say forty or fifty miles in circuit. +</p> + +<p> +Safely debarked at last, the company, under direction of their lord and patron, +forthwith proceeded to build their capital city. They make considerable advance +in the way of walls of clinkers, and lava floors, nicely sanded with cinders. +On the least barren hills they pasture their cattle, while the goats, +adventurers by nature, explore the far inland solitudes for a scanty livelihood +of lofty herbage. Meantime, abundance of fish and tortoises supply their other +wants. +</p> + +<p> +The disorders incident to settling all primitive regions, in the present case +were heightened by the peculiarly untoward character of many of the pilgrims. +His Majesty was forced at last to proclaim martial law, and actually hunted and +shot with his own hand several of his rebellious subjects, who, with most +questionable intentions, had clandestinely encamped in the interior, whence +they stole by night, to prowl barefooted on tiptoe round the precincts of the +lava-palace. It is to be remarked, however, that prior to such stern +proceedings, the more reliable men had been judiciously picked out for an +infantry body-guard, subordinate to the cavalry body-guard of dogs. But the +state of politics in this unhappy nation may be somewhat imagined, from the +circumstance that all who were not of the body-guard were downright plotters +and malignant traitors. At length the death penalty was tacitly abolished, +owing to the timely thought, that were strict sportsman’s justice to be +dispensed among such subjects, ere long the Nimrod King would have little or no +remaining game to shoot. The human part of the life-guard was now disbanded, +and set to work cultivating the soil, and raising potatoes; the regular army +now solely consisting of the dog-regiment. These, as I have heard, were of a +singularly ferocious character, though by severe training rendered docile to +their master. Armed to the teeth, the Creole now goes in state, surrounded by +his canine janizaries, whose terrific bayings prove quite as serviceable as +bayonets in keeping down the surgings of revolt. +</p> + +<p> +But the census of the isle, sadly lessened by the dispensation of justice, and +not materially recruited by matrimony, began to fill his mind with sad +mistrust. Some way the population must be increased. Now, from its possessing a +little water, and its comparative pleasantness of aspect, Charles’s Isle +at this period was occasionally visited by foreign whalers. These His Majesty +had always levied upon for port charges, thereby contributing to his revenue. +But now he had additional designs. By insidious arts he, from time to time, +cajoles certain sailors to desert their ships, and enlist beneath his banner. +Soon as missed, their captains crave permission to go and hunt them up. +Whereupon His Majesty first hides them very carefully away, and then freely +permits the search. In consequence, the delinquents are never found, and the +ships retire without them. +</p> + +<p> +Thus, by a two-edged policy of this crafty monarch, foreign nations were +crippled in the number of their subjects, and his own were greatly multiplied. +He particularly petted these renegado strangers. But alas for the deep-laid +schemes of ambitious princes, and alas for the vanity of glory. As the +foreign-born Pretorians, unwisely introduced into the Roman state, and still +more unwisely made favorites of the Emperors, at last insulted and overturned +the throne, even so these lawless mariners, with all the rest of the body-guard +and all the populace, broke out into a terrible mutiny, and defied their +master. He marched against them with all his dogs. A deadly battle ensued upon +the beach. It raged for three hours, the dogs fighting with determined valor, +and the sailors reckless of everything but victory. Three men and thirteen dogs +were left dead upon the field, many on both sides were wounded, and the king +was forced to fly with the remainder of his canine regiment. The enemy pursued, +stoning the dogs with their master into the wilderness of the interior. +Discontinuing the pursuit, the victors returned to the village on the shore, +stove the spirit casks, and proclaimed a Republic. The dead men were interred +with the honors of war, and the dead dogs ignominiously thrown into the sea. At +last, forced by stress of suffering, the fugitive Creole came down from the +hills and offered to treat for peace. But the rebels refused it on any other +terms than his unconditional banishment. Accordingly, the next ship that +arrived carried away the ex-king to Peru. +</p> + +<p> +The history of the king of Charles’s Island furnishes another +illustration of the difficulty of colonizing barren islands with unprincipled +pilgrims. +</p> + +<p> +Doubtless for a long time the exiled monarch, pensively ruralizing in Peru, +which afforded him a safe asylum in his calamity, watched every arrival from +the Encantadas, to hear news of the failure of the Republic, the consequent +penitence of the rebels, and his own recall to royalty. Doubtless he deemed the +Republic but a miserable experiment which would soon explode. But no, the +insurgents had confederated themselves into a democracy neither Grecian, Roman, +nor American. Nay, it was no democracy at all, but a permanent +<i>Riotocracy</i>, which gloried in having no law but lawlessness. Great +inducements being offered to deserters, their ranks were swelled by accessions +of scamps from every ship which touched their shores. Charles’s Island +was proclaimed the asylum of the oppressed of all navies. Each runaway tar was +hailed as a martyr in the cause of freedom, and became immediately installed a +ragged citizen of this universal nation. In vain the captains of absconding +seamen strove to regain them. Their new compatriots were ready to give any +number of ornamental eyes in their behalf. They had few cannon, but their fists +were not to be trifled with. So at last it came to pass that no vessels +acquainted with the character of that country durst touch there, however sorely +in want of refreshment. It became Anathema—a sea Alsatia—the +unassailed lurking-place of all sorts of desperadoes, who in the name of +liberty did just what they pleased. They continually fluctuated in their +numbers. Sailors, deserting ships at other islands, or in boats at sea anywhere +in that vicinity, steered for Charles’s Isle, as to their sure home of +refuge; while, sated with the life of the isle, numbers from time to time +crossed the water to the neighboring ones, and there presenting themselves to +strange captains as shipwrecked seamen, often succeeded in getting on board +vessels bound to the Spanish coast, and having a compassionate purse made up +for them on landing there. +</p> + +<p> +One warm night during my first visit to the group, our ship was floating along +in languid stillness, when some one on the forecastle shouted “Light +ho!” We looked and saw a beacon burning on some obscure land off the +beam. Our third mate was not intimate with this part of the world. Going to the +captain he said, “Sir, shall I put off in a boat? These must be +shipwrecked men.” +</p> + +<p> +The captain laughed rather grimly, as, shaking his fist towards the beacon, he +rapped out an oath, and said—“No, no, you precious rascals, you +don’t juggle one of my boats ashore this blessed night. You do well, you +thieves—you do benevolently to hoist a light yonder as on a dangerous +shoal. It tempts no wise man to pull off and see what’s the matter, but +bids him steer small and keep off shore—that is Charles’s Island; +brace up, Mr. Mate, and keep the light astern.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3>SKETCH EIGHTH.<br/> +NORFOLK ISLE AND THE CHOLA WIDOW.</h3> + +<p class="poem"> +“At last they in an island did espy<br/> +A seemly woman sitting by the shore,<br/> +That with great sorrow and sad agony<br/> +Seemed some great misfortune to deplore;<br/> +And loud to them for succor called evermore.”<br/> +<br/> +“Black his eye as the midnight sky.<br/> +White his neck as the driven snow,<br/> +Red his cheek as the morning light;—<br/> +Cold he lies in the ground below.<br/> +My love is dead,<br/> +Gone to his death-bed, ys<br/> +All under the cactus tree.”<br/> +<br/> +“Each lonely scene shall thee restore,<br/> +For thee the tear be duly shed;<br/> +Belov’d till life can charm no more,<br/> +And mourned till Pity’s self be dead.” +</p> + +<p> +Far to the northeast of Charles’s Isle, sequestered from the rest, lies +Norfolk Isle; and, however insignificant to most voyagers, to me, through +sympathy, that lone island has become a spot made sacred by the strangest +trials of humanity. +</p> + +<p> +It was my first visit to the Encantadas. Two days had been spent ashore in +hunting tortoises. There was not time to capture many; so on the third +afternoon we loosed our sails. We were just in the act of getting under way, +the uprooted anchor yet suspended and invisibly swaying beneath the wave, as +the good ship gradually turned her heel to leave the isle behind, when the +seaman who heaved with me at the windlass paused suddenly, and directed my +attention to something moving on the land, not along the beach, but somewhat +back, fluttering from a height. +</p> + +<p> +In view of the sequel of this little story, be it here narrated how it came to +pass, that an object which partly from its being so small was quite lost to +every other man on board, still caught the eye of my handspike companion. The +rest of the crew, myself included, merely stood up to our spikes in heaving, +whereas, unwontedly exhilarated, at every turn of the ponderous windlass, my +belted comrade leaped atop of it, with might and main giving a downward, +thewey, perpendicular heave, his raised eye bent in cheery animation upon the +slowly receding shore. Being high lifted above all others was the reason he +perceived the object, otherwise unperceivable; and this elevation of his eye +was owing to the elevation of his spirits; and this again—for truth must +out—to a dram of Peruvian pisco, in guerdon for some kindness done, +secretly administered to him that morning by our mulatto steward. Now, +certainly, pisco does a deal of mischief in the world; yet seeing that, in the +present case, it was the means, though indirect, of rescuing a human being from +the most dreadful fate, must we not also needs admit that sometimes pisco does +a deal of good? +</p> + +<p> +Glancing across the water in the direction pointed out, I saw some white thing +hanging from an inland rock, perhaps half a mile from the sea. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a bird; a white-winged bird; perhaps a—no; it is—it is +a handkerchief!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, a handkerchief!” echoed my comrade, and with a louder shout +apprised the captain. +</p> + +<p> +Quickly now—like the running out and training of a great gun—the +long cabin spy-glass was thrust through the mizzen rigging from the high +platform of the poop; whereupon a human figure was plainly seen upon the inland +rock, eagerly waving towards us what seemed to be the handkerchief. +</p> + +<p> +Our captain was a prompt, good fellow. Dropping the glass, he lustily ran +forward, ordering the anchor to be dropped again; hands to stand by a boat, and +lower away. +</p> + +<p> +In a half-hour’s time the swift boat returned. It went with six and came +with seven; and the seventh was a woman. +</p> + +<p> +It is not artistic heartlessness, but I wish I could but draw in crayons; for +this woman was a most touching sight; and crayons, tracing softly melancholy +lines, would best depict the mournful image of the dark-damasked Chola widow. +</p> + +<p> +Her story was soon told, and though given in her own strange language was as +quickly understood; for our captain, from long trading on the Chilian coast, +was well versed in the Spanish. A Cholo, or half-breed Indian woman of Payta in +Peru, three years gone by, with her young new-wedded husband Felipe, of pure +Castilian blood, and her one only Indian brother, Truxill, Hunilla had taken +passage on the main in a French whaler, commanded by a joyous man; which +vessel, bound to the cruising grounds beyond the Enchanted Isles, proposed +passing close by their vicinity. The object of the little party was to procure +tortoise oil, a fluid which for its great purity and delicacy is held in high +estimation wherever known; and it is well known all along this part of the +Pacific coast. With a chest of clothes, tools, cooking utensils, a rude +apparatus for trying out the oil, some casks of biscuit, and other things, not +omitting two favorite dogs, of which faithful animal all the Cholos are very +fond, Hunilla and her companions were safely landed at their chosen place; the +Frenchman, according to the contract made ere sailing, engaged to take them off +upon returning from a four months’ cruise in the westward seas; which +interval the three adventurers deemed quite sufficient for their purposes. +</p> + +<p> +On the isle’s lone beach they paid him in silver for their passage out, +the stranger having declined to carry them at all except upon that condition; +though willing to take every means to insure the due fulfillment of his +promise. Felipe had striven hard to have this payment put off to the period of +the ship’s return. But in vain. Still they thought they had, in another +way, ample pledge of the good faith of the Frenchman. It was arranged that the +expenses of the passage home should not be payable in silver, but in tortoises; +one hundred tortoises ready captured to the returning captain’s hand. +These the Cholos meant to secure after their own work was done, against the +probable time of the Frenchman’s coming back; and no doubt in prospect +already felt, that in those hundred tortoises—now somewhere ranging the +isle’s interior—they possessed one hundred hostages. Enough: the +vessel sailed; the gazing three on shore answered the loud glee of the singing +crew; and ere evening, the French craft was hull down in the distant sea, its +masts three faintest lines which quickly faded from Hunilla’s eye. +</p> + +<p> +The stranger had given a blithesome promise, and anchored it with oaths; but +oaths and anchors equally will drag; naught else abides on fickle earth but +unkept promises of joy. Contrary winds from out unstable skies, or contrary +moods of his more varying mind, or shipwreck and sudden death in solitary +waves; whatever was the cause, the blithe stranger never was seen again. +</p> + +<p> +Yet, however dire a calamity was here in store, misgivings of it ere due time +never disturbed the Cholos’ busy mind, now all intent upon the toilsome +matter which had brought them hither. Nay, by swift doom coming like the thief +at night, ere seven weeks went by, two of the little party were removed from +all anxieties of land or sea. No more they sought to gaze with feverish fear, +or still more feverish hope, beyond the present’s horizon line; but into +the furthest future their own silent spirits sailed. By persevering labor +beneath that burning sun, Felipe and Truxill had brought down to their hut many +scores of tortoises, and tried out the oil, when, elated with their good +success, and to reward themselves for such hard work, they, too hastily, made a +catamaran, or Indian raft, much used on the Spanish main, and merrily started +on a fishing trip, just without a long reef with many jagged gaps, running +parallel with the shore, about half a mile from it. By some bad tide or hap, or +natural negligence of joyfulness (for though they could not be heard, yet by +their gestures they seemed singing at the time) forced in deep water against +that iron bar, the ill-made catamaran was overset, and came all to pieces; when +dashed by broad-chested swells between their broken logs and the sharp teeth of +the reef, both adventurers perished before Hunilla’s eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Before Hunilla’s eyes they sank. The real woe of this event passed before +her sight as some sham tragedy on the stage. She was seated on a rude bower +among the withered thickets, crowning a lofty cliff, a little back from the +beach. The thickets were so disposed, that in looking upon the sea at large she +peered out from among the branches as from the lattice of a high balcony. But +upon the day we speak of here, the better to watch the adventure of those two +hearts she loved, Hunilla had withdrawn the branches to one side, and held them +so. They formed an oval frame, through which the bluely boundless sea rolled +like a painted one. And there, the invisible painter painted to her view the +wave-tossed and disjointed raft, its once level logs slantingly upheaved, as +raking masts, and the four struggling arms indistinguishable among them; and +then all subsided into smooth-flowing creamy waters, slowly drifting the +splintered wreck; while first and last, no sound of any sort was heard. Death +in a silent picture; a dream of the eye; such vanishing shapes as the mirage +shows. +</p> + +<p> +So instant was the scene, so trance-like its mild pictorial effect, so distant +from her blasted bower and her common sense of things, that Hunilla gazed and +gazed, nor raised a finger or a wail. But as good to sit thus dumb, in stupor +staring on that dumb show, for all that otherwise might be done. With half a +mile of sea between, how could her two enchanted arms aid those four fated +ones? The distance long, the time one sand. After the lightning is beheld, what +fool shall stay the thunder-bolt? Felipe’s body was washed ashore, but +Truxill’s never came; only his gay, braided hat of golden +straw—that same sunflower thing he waved to her, pushing from the +strand—and now, to the last gallant, it still saluted her. But +Felipe’s body floated to the marge, with one arm encirclingly +outstretched. Lock-jawed in grim death, the lover-husband softly clasped his +bride, true to her even in death’s dream. Ah, heaven, when man thus keeps +his faith, wilt thou be faithless who created the faithful one? But they cannot +break faith who never plighted it. +</p> + +<p> +It needs not to be said what nameless misery now wrapped the lonely widow. In +telling her own story she passed this almost entirely over, simply recounting +the event. Construe the comment of her features as you might, from her mere +words little would you have weened that Hunilla was herself the heroine of her +tale. But not thus did she defraud us of our tears. All hearts bled that grief +could be so brave. +</p> + +<p> +She but showed us her soul’s lid, and the strange ciphers thereon +engraved; all within, with pride’s timidity, was withheld. Yet was there +one exception. Holding out her small olive hand before her captain, she said in +mild and slowest Spanish, “Señor, I buried him;” then paused, +struggled as against the writhed coilings of a snake, and cringing suddenly, +leaped up, repeating in impassioned pain, “I buried him, my life, my +soul!” +</p> + +<p> +Doubtless, it was by half-unconscious, automatic motions of her hands, that +this heavy-hearted one performed the final office for Felipe, and planted a +rude cross of withered sticks—no green ones might be had—at the +head of that lonely grave, where rested now in lasting un-complaint and quiet +haven he whom untranquil seas had overthrown. +</p> + +<p> +But some dull sense of another body that should be interred, of another cross +that should hallow another grave—unmade as yet—some dull anxiety +and pain touching her undiscovered brother, now haunted the oppressed Hunilla. +Her hands fresh from the burial earth, she slowly went back to the beach, with +unshaped purposes wandering there, her spell-bound eye bent upon the incessant +waves. But they bore nothing to her but a dirge, which maddened her to think +that murderers should mourn. As time went by, and these things came less +dreamingly to her mind, the strong persuasions of her Romish faith, which sets +peculiar store by consecrated urns, prompted her to resume in waking earnest +that pious search which had but been begun as in somnambulism. Day after day, +week after week, she trod the cindery beach, till at length a double motive +edged every eager glance. With equal longing she now looked for the living and +the dead; the brother and the captain; alike vanished, never to return. Little +accurate note of time had Hunilla taken under such emotions as were hers, and +little, outside herself, served for calendar or dial. As to poor Crusoe in the +self-same sea, no saint’s bell pealed forth the lapse of week or month; +each day went by unchallenged; no chanticleer announced those sultry dawns, no +lowing herds those poisonous nights. All wonted and steadily recurring sounds, +human, or humanized by sweet fellowship with man, but one stirred that torrid +trance—the cry of dogs; save which naught but the rolling sea invaded it, +an all-pervading monotone; and to the widow that was the least loved voice she +could have heard. +</p> + +<p> +No wonder, that as her thoughts now wandered to the unreturning ship, and were +beaten back again, the hope against hope so struggled in her soul, that at +length she desperately said, “Not yet, not yet; my foolish heart runs on +too fast.” So she forced patience for some further weeks. But to those +whom earth’s sure indraft draws, patience or impatience is still the +same. +</p> + +<p> +Hunilla now sought to settle precisely in her mind, to an hour, how long it was +since the ship had sailed; and then, with the same precision, how long a space +remained to pass. But this proved impossible. What present day or month it was +she could not say. Time was her labyrinth, in which Hunilla was entirely lost. +</p> + +<p> +And now follows— +</p> + +<p> +Against my own purposes a pause descends upon me here. One knows not whether +nature doth not impose some secrecy upon him who has been privy to certain +things. At least, it is to be doubted whether it be good to blazon such. If +some books are deemed most baneful and their sale forbid, how, then, with +deadlier facts, not dreams of doting men? Those whom books will hurt will not +be proof against events. Events, not books, should be forbid. But in all things +man sows upon the wind, which bloweth just there whither it listeth; for ill or +good, man cannot know. Often ill comes from the good, as good from ill. +</p> + +<p> +When Hunilla— +</p> + +<p> +Dire sight it is to see some silken beast long dally with a golden lizard ere +she devour. More terrible, to see how feline Fate will sometimes dally with a +human soul, and by a nameless magic make it repulse a sane despair with a hope +which is but mad. Unwittingly I imp this cat-like thing, sporting with the +heart of him who reads; for if he feel not he reads in vain. +</p> + +<p> +—“The ship sails this day, to-day,” at last said Hunilla to +herself; “this gives me certain time to stand on; without certainty I go +mad. In loose ignorance I have hoped and hoped; now in firm knowledge I will +but wait. Now I live and no longer perish in bewilderings. Holy Virgin, aid me! +Thou wilt waft back the ship. Oh, past length of weary weeks—all to be +dragged over—to buy the certainty of to-day, I freely give ye, though I +tear ye from me!” +</p> + +<p> +As mariners, tost in tempest on some desolate ledge, patch them a boat out of +the remnants of their vessel’s wreck, and launch it in the self-same +waves, see here Hunilla, this lone shipwrecked soul, out of treachery invoking +trust. Humanity, thou strong thing, I worship thee, not in the laureled victor, +but in this vanquished one. +</p> + +<p> +Truly Hunilla leaned upon a reed, a real one; no metaphor; a real Eastern reed. +A piece of hollow cane, drifted from unknown isles, and found upon the beach, +its once jagged ends rubbed smoothly even as by sand-paper; its golden glazing +gone. Long ground between the sea and land, upper and nether stone, the +unvarnished substance was filed bare, and wore another polish now, one with +itself, the polish of its agony. Circular lines at intervals cut all round this +surface, divided it into six panels of unequal length. In the first were scored +the days, each tenth one marked by a longer and deeper notch; the second was +scored for the number of sea-fowl eggs for sustenance, picked out from the +rocky nests; the third, how many fish had been caught from the shore; the +fourth, how many small tortoises found inland; the fifth, how many days of sun; +the sixth, of clouds; which last, of the two, was the greater one. Long night +of busy numbering, misery’s mathematics, to weary her too-wakeful soul to +sleep; yet sleep for that was none. +</p> + +<p> +The panel of the days was deeply worn—the long tenth notches half +effaced, as alphabets of the blind. Ten thousand times the longing widow had +traced her finger over the bamboo—dull flute, which played, on, gave no +sound—as if counting birds flown by in air would hasten tortoises +creeping through the woods. +</p> + +<p> +After the one hundred and eightieth day no further mark was seen; that last one +was the faintest, as the first the deepest. +</p> + +<p> +“There were more days,” said our Captain; “many, many more; +why did you not go on and notch them, too, Hunilla?” +</p> + +<p> +“Señor, ask me not.” +</p> + +<p> +“And meantime, did no other vessel pass the isle?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, Señor;—but—” +</p> + +<p> +“You do not speak; but <i>what</i>, Hunilla?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ask me not, Señor.” +</p> + +<p> +“You saw ships pass, far away; you waved to them; they passed +on;—was that it, Hunilla?” +</p> + +<p> +“Señor, be it as you say.” +</p> + +<p> +Braced against her woe, Hunilla would not, durst not trust the weakness of her +tongue. Then when our Captain asked whether any whale-boats had— +</p> + +<p> +But no, I will not file this thing complete for scoffing souls to quote, and +call it firm proof upon their side. The half shall here remain untold. Those +two unnamed events which befell Hunilla on this isle, let them abide between +her and her God. In nature, as in law, it may be libelous to speak some truths. +</p> + +<p> +Still, how it was that, although our vessel had lain three days anchored nigh +the isle, its one human tenant should not have discovered us till just upon the +point of sailing, never to revisit so lone and far a spot, this needs +explaining ere the sequel come. +</p> + +<p> +The place where the French captain had landed the little party was on the +further and opposite end of the isle. There, too, it was that they had +afterwards built their hut. Nor did the widow in her solitude desert the spot +where her loved ones had dwelt with her, and where the dearest of the twain now +slept his last long sleep, and all her plaints awaked him not, and he of +husbands the most faithful during life. +</p> + +<p> +Now, high, broken land rises between the opposite extremities of the isle. A +ship anchored at one side is invisible from the other. Neither is the isle so +small, but a considerable company might wander for days through the wilderness +of one side, and never be seen, or their halloos heard, by any stranger holding +aloof on the other. Hence Hunilla, who naturally associated the possible coming +of ships with her own part of the isle, might to the end have remained quite +ignorant of the presence of our vessel, were it not for a mysterious +presentiment, borne to her, so our mariners averred, by this isle’s +enchanted air. Nor did the widow’s answer undo the thought. +</p> + +<p> +“How did you come to cross the isle this morning, then, Hunilla?” +said our Captain. +</p> + +<p> +“Señor, something came flitting by me. It touched my cheek, my heart, +Señor.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you say, Hunilla?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have said, Señor, something came through the air.” +</p> + +<p> +It was a narrow chance. For when in crossing the isle Hunilla gained the high +land in the centre, she must then for the first have perceived our masts, and +also marked that their sails were being loosed, perhaps even heard the echoing +chorus of the windlass song. The strange ship was about to sail, and she +behind. With all haste she now descends the height on the hither side, but soon +loses sight of the ship among the sunken jungles at the mountain’s base. +She struggles on through the withered branches, which seek at every step to bar +her path, till she comes to the isolated rock, still some way from the water. +This she climbs, to reassure herself. The ship is still in plainest sight. But +now, worn out with over tension, Hunilla all but faints; she fears to step down +from her giddy perch; she is fain to pause, there where she is, and as a last +resort catches the turban from her head, unfurls and waves it over the jungles +towards us. +</p> + +<p> +During the telling of her story the mariners formed a voiceless circle round +Hunilla and the Captain; and when at length the word was given to man the +fastest boat, and pull round to the isle’s thither side, to bring away +Hunilla’s chest and the tortoise-oil, such alacrity of both cheery and +sad obedience seldom before was seen. Little ado was made. Already the anchor +had been recommitted to the bottom, and the ship swung calmly to it. +</p> + +<p> +But Hunilla insisted upon accompanying the boat as indispensable pilot to her +hidden hut. So being refreshed with the best the steward could supply, she +started with us. Nor did ever any wife of the most famous admiral, in her +husband’s barge, receive more silent reverence of respect than poor +Hunilla from this boat’s crew. +</p> + +<p> +Rounding many a vitreous cape and bluff, in two hours’ time we shot +inside the fatal reef; wound into a secret cove, looked up along a green +many-gabled lava wall, and saw the island’s solitary dwelling. +</p> + +<p> +It hung upon an impending cliff, sheltered on two sides by tangled thickets, +and half-screened from view in front by juttings of the rude stairway, which +climbed the precipice from the sea. Built of canes, it was thatched with long, +mildewed grass. It seemed an abandoned hay-rick, whose haymakers were now no +more. The roof inclined but one way; the eaves coming to within two feet of the +ground. And here was a simple apparatus to collect the dews, or rather +doubly-distilled and finest winnowed rains, which, in mercy or in mockery, the +night-skies sometimes drop upon these blighted Encantadas. All along beneath +the eaves, a spotted sheet, quite weather-stained, was spread, pinned to short, +upright stakes, set in the shallow sand. A small clinker, thrown into the +cloth, weighed its middle down, thereby straining all moisture into a calabash +placed below. This vessel supplied each drop of water ever drunk upon the isle +by the Cholos. Hunilla told us the calabash, would sometimes, but not often, be +half filled overnight. It held six quarts, perhaps. “But,” said +she, “we were used to thirst. At sandy Payta, where I live, no shower +from heaven ever fell; all the water there is brought on mules from the inland +vales.” +</p> + +<p> +Tied among the thickets were some twenty moaning tortoises, supplying +Hunilla’s lonely larder; while hundreds of vast tableted black bucklers, +like displaced, shattered tomb-stones of dark slate, were also scattered round. +These were the skeleton backs of those great tortoises from which Felipe and +Truxill had made their precious oil. Several large calabashes and two goodly +kegs were filled with it. In a pot near by were the caked crusts of a quantity +which had been permitted to evaporate. “They meant to have strained it +off next day,” said Hunilla, as she turned aside. +</p> + +<p> +I forgot to mention the most singular sight of all, though the first that +greeted us after landing. +</p> + +<p> +Some ten small, soft-haired, ringleted dogs, of a beautiful breed, peculiar to +Peru, set up a concert of glad welcomings when we gained the beach, which was +responded to by Hunilla. Some of these dogs had, since her widowhood, been born +upon the isle, the progeny of the two brought from Payta. Owing to the jagged +steeps and pitfalls, tortuous thickets, sunken clefts and perilous intricacies +of all sorts in the interior, Hunilla, admonished by the loss of one favorite +among them, never allowed these delicate creatures to follow her in her +occasional birds’-nests climbs and other wanderings; so that, through +long habituation, they offered not to follow, when that morning she crossed the +land, and her own soul was then too full of other things to heed their +lingering behind. Yet, all along she had so clung to them, that, besides what +moisture they lapped up at early daybreak from the small scoop-holes among the +adjacent rocks, she had shared the dew of her calabash among them; never laying +by any considerable store against those prolonged and utter droughts which, in +some disastrous seasons, warp these isles. +</p> + +<p> +Having pointed out, at our desire, what few things she would like transported +to the ship—her chest, the oil, not omitting the live tortoises which she +intended for a grateful present to our Captain—we immediately set to +work, carrying them to the boat down the long, sloping stair of deeply-shadowed +rock. While my comrades were thus employed, I looked and Hunilla had +disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +It was not curiosity alone, but, it seems to me, something different mingled +with it, which prompted me to drop my tortoise, and once more gaze slowly +around. I remembered the husband buried by Hunilla’s hands. A narrow +pathway led into a dense part of the thickets. Following it through many mazes, +I came out upon a small, round, open space, deeply chambered there. +</p> + +<p> +The mound rose in the middle; a bare heap of finest sand, like that unverdured +heap found at the bottom of an hour-glass run out. At its head stood the cross +of withered sticks; the dry, peeled bark still fraying from it; its transverse +limb tied up with rope, and forlornly adroop in the silent air. +</p> + +<p> +Hunilla was partly prostrate upon the grave; her dark head bowed, and lost in +her long, loosened Indian hair; her hands extended to the cross-foot, with a +little brass crucifix clasped between; a crucifix worn featureless, like an +ancient graven knocker long plied in vain. She did not see me, and I made no +noise, but slid aside, and left the spot. +</p> + +<p> +A few moments ere all was ready for our going, she reappeared among us. I +looked into her eyes, but saw no tear. There was something which seemed +strangely haughty in her air, and yet it was the air of woe. A Spanish and an +Indian grief, which would not visibly lament. Pride’s height in vain +abased to proneness on the rack; nature’s pride subduing nature’s +torture. +</p> + +<p> +Like pages the small and silken dogs surrounded her, as she slowly descended +towards the beach. She caught the two most eager creatures in her +arms:—“Mia Teeta! Mia Tomoteeta!” and fondling them, inquired +how many could we take on board. +</p> + +<p> +The mate commanded the boat’s crew; not a hard-hearted man, but his way +of life had been such that in most things, even in the smallest, simple utility +was his leading motive. +</p> + +<p> +“We cannot take them all, Hunilla; our supplies are short; the winds are +unreliable; we may be a good many days going to Tombez. So take those you have, +Hunilla; but no more.” +</p> + +<p> +She was in the boat; the oarsmen, too, were seated; all save one, who stood +ready to push off and then spring himself. With the sagacity of their race, the +dogs now seemed aware that they were in the very instant of being deserted upon +a barren strand. The gunwales of the boat were high; its prow—presented +inland—was lifted; so owing to the water, which they seemed instinctively +to shun, the dogs could not well leap into the little craft. But their busy +paws hard scraped the prow, as it had been some farmer’s door shutting +them out from shelter in a winter storm. A clamorous agony of alarm. They did +not howl, or whine; they all but spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Push off! Give way!” cried the mate. The boat gave one heavy drag +and lurch, and next moment shot swiftly from the beach, turned on her heel, and +sped. The dogs ran howling along the water’s marge; now pausing to gaze +at the flying boat, then motioning as if to leap in chase, but mysteriously +withheld themselves; and again ran howling along the beach. Had they been human +beings, hardly would they have more vividly inspired the sense of desolation. +The oars were plied as confederate feathers of two wings. No one spoke. I +looked back upon the beach, and then upon Hunilla, but her face was set in a +stern dusky calm. The dogs crouching in her lap vainly licked her rigid hands. +She never looked behind her: but sat motionless, till we turned a promontory of +the coast and lost all sights and sounds astern. She seemed as one who, having +experienced the sharpest of mortal pangs, was henceforth content to have all +lesser heartstrings riven, one by one. To Hunilla, pain seemed so necessary, +that pain in other beings, though by love and sympathy made her own, was +unrepiningly to be borne. A heart of yearning in a frame of steel. A heart of +earthly yearning, frozen by the frost which falleth from the sky. +</p> + +<p> +The sequel is soon told. After a long passage, vexed by calms and baffling +winds, we made the little port of Tombez in Peru, there to recruit the ship. +Payta was not very distant. Our captain sold the tortoise oil to a Tombez +merchant; and adding to the silver a contribution from all hands, gave it to +our silent passenger, who knew not what the mariners had done. +</p> + +<p> +The last seen of lone Hunilla she was passing into Payta town, riding upon a +small gray ass; and before her on the ass’s shoulders, she eyed the +jointed workings of the beast’s armorial cross. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3>SKETCH NINTH.<br/> +HOOD’S ISLE AND THE HERMIT OBERLUS.</h3> + +<p class="poem"> +“That darkesome glen they enter, where they find<br/> +That cursed man low sitting on the ground,<br/> +Musing full sadly in his sullein mind;<br/> +His griesly lockes long gronen and unbound,<br/> +Disordered hong about his shoulders round,<br/> +And hid his face, through which his hollow eyne<br/> +Lookt deadly dull, and stared as astound;<br/> +His raw-bone cheekes, through penurie and pine,<br/> +Were shronke into the jawes, as he did never dine.<br/> +His garments nought but many ragged clouts,<br/> +With thornes together pind and patched reads,<br/> +The which his naked sides he wrapt abouts.” +</p> + +<p> +Southeast of Crossman’s Isle lies Hood’s Isle, or McCain’s +Beclouded Isle; and upon its south side is a vitreous cove with a wide strand +of dark pounded black lava, called Black Beach, or Oberlus’s Landing. It +might fitly have been styled Charon’s. +</p> + +<p> +It received its name from a wild white creature who spent many years here; in +the person of a European bringing into this savage region qualities more +diabolical than are to be found among any of the surrounding cannibals. +</p> + +<p> +About half a century ago, Oberlus deserted at the above-named island, then, as +now, a solitude. He built himself a den of lava and clinkers, about a mile from +the Landing, subsequently called after him, in a vale, or expanded gulch, +containing here and there among the rocks about two acres of soil capable of +rude cultivation; the only place on the isle not too blasted for that purpose. +Here he succeeded in raising a sort of degenerate potatoes and pumpkins, which +from time to time he exchanged with needy whalemen passing, for spirits or +dollars. +</p> + +<p> +His appearance, from all accounts, was that of the victim of some malignant +sorceress; he seemed to have drunk of Circe’s cup; beast-like; rags +insufficient to hide his nakedness; his befreckled skin blistered by continual +exposure to the sun; nose flat; countenance contorted, heavy, earthy; hair and +beard unshorn, profuse, and of fiery red. He struck strangers much as if he +were a volcanic creature thrown up by the same convulsion which exploded into +sight the isle. All bepatched and coiled asleep in his lonely lava den among +the mountains, he looked, they say, as a heaped drift of withered leaves, torn +from autumn trees, and so left in some hidden nook by the whirling halt for an +instant of a fierce night-wind, which then ruthlessly sweeps on, somewhere else +to repeat the capricious act. It is also reported to have been the strangest +sight, this same Oberlus, of a sultry, cloudy morning, hidden under his +shocking old black tarpaulin hat, hoeing potatoes among the lava. So warped and +crooked was his strange nature, that the very handle of his hoe seemed +gradually to have shrunk and twisted in his grasp, being a wretched bent stick, +elbowed more like a savage’s war-sickle than a civilized hoe-handle. It +was his mysterious custom upon a first encounter with a stranger ever to +present his back; possibly, because that was his better side, since it revealed +the least. If the encounter chanced in his garden, as it sometimes +did—the new-landed strangers going from the sea-side straight through the +gorge, to hunt up the queer green-grocer reported doing business +here—Oberlus for a time hoed on, unmindful of all greeting, jovial or +bland; as the curious stranger would turn to face him, the recluse, hoe in +hand, as diligently would avert himself; bowed over, and sullenly revolving +round his murphy hill. Thus far for hoeing. When planting, his whole aspect and +all his gestures were so malevolently and uselessly sinister and secret, that +he seemed rather in act of dropping poison into wells than potatoes into soil. +But among his lesser and more harmless marvels was an idea he ever had, that +his visitors came equally as well led by longings to behold the mighty hermit +Oberlus in his royal state of solitude, as simply, to obtain potatoes, or find +whatever company might be upon a barren isle. It seems incredible that such a +being should possess such vanity; a misanthrope be conceited; but he really had +his notion; and upon the strength of it, often gave himself amusing airs to +captains. But after all, this is somewhat of a piece with the well-known +eccentricity of some convicts, proud of that very hatefulness which makes them +notorious. At other times, another unaccountable whim would seize him, and he +would long dodge advancing strangers round the clinkered corners of his hut; +sometimes like a stealthy bear, he would slink through the withered thickets up +the mountains, and refuse to see the human face. +</p> + +<p> +Except his occasional visitors from the sea, for a long period, the only +companions of Oberlus were the crawling tortoises; and he seemed more than +degraded to their level, having no desires for a time beyond theirs, unless it +were for the stupor brought on by drunkenness. But sufficiently debased as he +appeared, there yet lurked in him, only awaiting occasion for discovery, a +still further proneness. Indeed, the sole superiority of Oberlus over the +tortoises was his possession of a larger capacity of degradation; and along +with that, something like an intelligent will to it. Moreover, what is about to +be revealed, perhaps will show, that selfish ambition, or the love of rule for +its own sake, far from being the peculiar infirmity of noble minds, is shared +by beings which have no mind at all. No creatures are so selfishly tyrannical +as some brutes; as any one who has observed the tenants of the pasture must +occasionally have observed. +</p> + +<p> +“This island’s mine by Sycorax my mother,” said Oberlus to +himself, glaring round upon his haggard solitude. By some means, barter or +theft—for in those days ships at intervals still kept touching at his +Landing—he obtained an old musket, with a few charges of powder and ball. +Possessed of arms, he was stimulated to enterprise, as a tiger that first feels +the coming of its claws. The long habit of sole dominion over every object +round him, his almost unbroken solitude, his never encountering humanity except +on terms of misanthropic independence, or mercantile craftiness, and even such +encounters being comparatively but rare; all this must have gradually nourished +in him a vast idea of his own importance, together with a pure animal sort of +scorn for all the rest of the universe. +</p> + +<p> +The unfortunate Creole, who enjoyed his brief term of royalty at +Charles’s Isle was perhaps in some degree influenced by not unworthy +motives; such as prompt other adventurous spirits to lead colonists into +distant regions and assume political preeminence over them. His summary +execution of many of his Peruvians is quite pardonable, considering the +desperate characters he had to deal with; while his offering canine battle to +the banded rebels seems under the circumstances altogether just. But for this +King Oberlus and what shortly follows, no shade of palliation can be given. He +acted out of mere delight in tyranny and cruelty, by virtue of a quality in him +inherited from Sycorax his mother. Armed now with that shocking blunderbuss, +strong in the thought of being master of that horrid isle, he panted for a +chance to prove his potency upon the first specimen of humanity which should +fall unbefriended into his hands. +</p> + +<p> +Nor was he long without it. One day he spied a boat upon the beach, with one +man, a negro, standing by it. Some distance off was a ship, and Oberlus +immediately knew how matters stood. The vessel had put in for wood, and the +boat’s crew had gone into the thickets for it. From a convenient spot he +kept watch of the boat, till presently a straggling company appeared loaded +with billets. Throwing these on the beach, they again went into the thickets, +while the negro proceeded to load the boat. +</p> + +<p> +Oberlus now makes all haste and accosts the negro, who, aghast at seeing any +living being inhabiting such a solitude, and especially so horrific a one, +immediately falls into a panic, not at all lessened by the ursine suavity of +Oberlus, who begs the favor of assisting him in his labors. The negro stands +with several billets on his shoulder, in act of shouldering others; and +Oberlus, with a short cord concealed in his bosom, kindly proceeds to lift +those other billets to their place. In so doing, he persists in keeping behind +the negro, who, rightly suspicious of this, in vain dodges about to gain the +front of Oberlus; but Oberlus dodges also; till at last, weary of this bootless +attempt at treachery, or fearful of being surprised by the remainder of the +party, Oberlus runs off a little space to a bush, and fetching his blunderbuss, +savagely commands the negro to desist work and follow him. He refuses. +Whereupon, presenting his piece, Oberlus snaps at him. Luckily the blunderbuss +misses fire; but by this time, frightened out of his wits, the negro, upon a +second intrepid summons, drops his billets, surrenders at discretion, and +follows on. By a narrow defile familiar to him, Oberlus speedily removes out of +sight of the water. +</p> + +<p> +On their way up the mountains, he exultingly informs the negro, that henceforth +he is to work for him, and be his slave, and that his treatment would entirely +depend on his future conduct. But Oberlus, deceived by the first impulsive +cowardice of the black, in an evil moment slackens his vigilance. Passing +through a narrow way, and perceiving his leader quite off his guard, the negro, +a powerful fellow, suddenly grasps him in his arms, throws him down, wrests his +musketoon from him, ties his hands with the monster’s own cord, shoulders +him, and returns with him down to the boat. When the rest of the party arrive, +Oberlus is carried on board the ship. This proved an Englishman, and a +smuggler; a sort of craft not apt to be over-charitable. Oberlus is severely +whipped, then handcuffed, taken ashore, and compelled to make known his +habitation and produce his property. His potatoes, pumpkins, and tortoises, +with a pile of dollars he had hoarded from his mercantile operations were +secured on the spot. But while the too vindictive smugglers were busy +destroying his hut and garden, Oberlus makes his escape into the mountains, and +conceals himself there in impenetrable recesses, only known to himself, till +the ship sails, when he ventures back, and by means of an old file which he +sticks into a tree, contrives to free himself from his handcuffs. +</p> + +<p> +Brooding among the ruins of his hut, and the desolate clinkers and extinct +volcanoes of this outcast isle, the insulted misanthrope now meditates a signal +revenge upon humanity, but conceals his purposes. Vessels still touch the +Landing at times; and by-and-by Oberlus is enabled to supply them with some +vegetables. +</p> + +<p> +Warned by his former failure in kidnapping strangers, he now pursues a quite +different plan. When seamen come ashore, he makes up to them like a +free-and-easy comrade, invites them to his hut, and with whatever affability +his red-haired grimness may assume, entreats them to drink his liquor and be +merry. But his guests need little pressing; and so, soon as rendered +insensible, are tied hand and foot, and pitched among the clinkers, are there +concealed till the ship departs, when, finding themselves entirely dependent +upon Oberlus, alarmed at his changed demeanor, his savage threats, and above +all, that shocking blunderbuss, they willingly enlist under him, becoming his +humble slaves, and Oberlus the most incredible of tyrants. So much so, that two +or three perish beneath his initiating process. He sets the +remainder—four of them—to breaking the caked soil; transporting +upon their backs loads of loamy earth, scooped up in moist clefts among the +mountains; keeps them on the roughest fare; presents his piece at the slightest +hint of insurrection; and in all respects converts them into reptiles at his +feet—plebeian garter-snakes to this Lord Anaconda. +</p> + +<p> +At last, Oberlus contrives to stock his arsenal with four rusty cutlasses, and +an added supply of powder and ball intended for his blunderbuss. Remitting in +good part the labor of his slaves, he now approves himself a man, or rather +devil, of great abilities in the way of cajoling or coercing others into +acquiescence with his own ulterior designs, however at first abhorrent to them. +But indeed, prepared for almost any eventual evil by their previous lawless +life, as a sort of ranging Cow-Boys of the sea, which had dissolved within them +the whole moral man, so that they were ready to concrete in the first offered +mould of baseness now; rotted down from manhood by their hopeless misery on the +isle; wonted to cringe in all things to their lord, himself the worst of +slaves; these wretches were now become wholly corrupted to his hands. He used +them as creatures of an inferior race; in short, he gaffles his four animals, +and makes murderers of them; out of cowards fitly manufacturing bravos. +</p> + +<p> +Now, sword or dagger, human arms are but artificial claws and fangs, tied on +like false spurs to the fighting cock. So, we repeat, Oberlus, czar of the +isle, gaffles his four subjects; that is, with intent of glory, puts four rusty +cutlasses into their hands. Like any other autocrat, he had a noble army now. +</p> + +<p> +It might be thought a servile war would hereupon ensue. Arms in the hands of +trodden slaves? how indiscreet of Emperor Oberlus! Nay, they had but +cutlasses—sad old scythes enough—he a blunderbuss, which by its +blind scatterings of all sorts of boulders, clinkers, and other scoria would +annihilate all four mutineers, like four pigeons at one shot. Besides, at first +he did not sleep in his accustomed hut; every lurid sunset, for a time, he +might have been seen wending his way among the riven mountains, there to +secrete himself till dawn in some sulphurous pitfall, undiscoverable to his +gang; but finding this at last too troublesome, he now each evening tied his +slaves hand and foot, hid the cutlasses, and thrusting them into his barracks, +shut to the door, and lying down before it, beneath a rude shed lately added, +slept out the night, blunderbuss in hand. +</p> + +<p> +It is supposed that not content with daily parading over a cindery solitude at +the head of his fine army, Oberlus now meditated the most active mischief; his +probable object being to surprise some passing ship touching at his dominions, +massacre the crew, and run away with her to parts unknown. While these plans +were simmering in his head, two ships touch in company at the isle, on the +opposite side to his; when his designs undergo a sudden change. +</p> + +<p> +The ships are in want of vegetables, which Oberlus promises in great abundance, +provided they send their boats round to his landing, so that the crews may +bring the vegetables from his garden; informing the two captains, at the same +time, that his rascals—slaves and soldiers—had become so abominably +lazy and good-for-nothing of late, that he could not make them work by ordinary +inducements, and did not have the heart to be severe with them. +</p> + +<p> +The arrangement was agreed to, and the boats were sent and hauled upon the +beach. The crews went to the lava hut; but to their surprise nobody was there. +After waiting till their patience was exhausted, they returned to the shore, +when lo, some stranger—not the Good Samaritan either—seems to have +very recently passed that way. Three of the boats were broken in a thousand +pieces, and the fourth was missing. By hard toil over the mountains and through +the clinkers, some of the strangers succeeded in returning to that side of the +isle where the ships lay, when fresh boats are sent to the relief of the rest +of the hapless party. +</p> + +<p> +However amazed at the treachery of Oberlus, the two captains, afraid of new and +still more mysterious atrocities—and indeed, half imputing such strange +events to the enchantments associated with these isles—perceive no +security but in instant flight; leaving Oberlus and his army in quiet +possession of the stolen boat. +</p> + +<p> +On the eve of sailing they put a letter in a keg, giving the Pacific Ocean +intelligence of the affair, and moored the keg in the bay. Some time +subsequent, the keg was opened by another captain chancing to anchor there, but +not until after he had dispatched a boat round to Oberlus’s Landing. As +may be readily surmised, he felt no little inquietude till the boat’s +return: when another letter was handed him, giving Oberlus’s version of +the affair. This precious document had been found pinned half-mildewed to the +clinker wall of the sulphurous and deserted hut. It ran as follows: showing +that Oberlus was at least an accomplished writer, and no mere boor; and what is +more, was capable of the most tristful eloquence. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir: I am the most unfortunate ill-treated gentleman that lives. I am a +patriot, exiled from my country by the cruel hand of tyranny. +</p> + +<p> +“Banished to these Enchanted Isles, I have again and again besought +captains of ships to sell me a boat, but always have been refused, though I +offered the handsomest prices in Mexican dollars. At length an opportunity +presented of possessing myself of one, and I did not let it slip. +</p> + +<p> +“I have been long endeavoring, by hard labor and much solitary suffering, +to accumulate something to make myself comfortable in a virtuous though unhappy +old age; but at various times have been robbed and beaten by men professing to +be Christians. +</p> + +<p> +“To-day I sail from the Enchanted group in the good boat Charity bound to +the Feejee Isles. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“F<small>ATHERLESS</small> O<small>BERLUS</small>. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>P.S.</i>—Behind the clinkers, nigh the oven, you will find the +old fowl. Do not kill it; be patient; I leave it setting; if it shall have any +chicks, I hereby bequeath them to you, whoever you may be. But don’t +count your chicks before they are hatched.” +</p> + +<p> +The fowl proved a starveling rooster, reduced to a sitting posture by sheer +debility. +</p> + +<p> +Oberlus declares that he was bound to the Feejee Isles; but this was only to +throw pursuers on a false scent. For, after a long time, he arrived, alone in +his open boat, at Guayaquil. As his miscreants were never again beheld on +Hood’s Isle, it is supposed, either that they perished for want of water +on the passage to Guayaquil, or, what is quite as probable, were thrown +overboard by Oberlus, when he found the water growing scarce. +</p> + +<p> +From Guayaquil Oberlus proceeded to Payta; and there, with that nameless +witchery peculiar to some of the ugliest animals, wound himself into the +affections of a tawny damsel; prevailing upon her to accompany him back to his +Enchanted Isle; which doubtless he painted as a Paradise of flowers, not a +Tartarus of clinkers. +</p> + +<p> +But unfortunately for the colonization of Hood’s Isle with a choice +variety of animated nature, the extraordinary and devilish aspect of Oberlus +made him to be regarded in Payta as a highly suspicious character. So that +being found concealed one night, with matches in his pocket, under the hull of +a small vessel just ready to be launched, he was seized and thrown into jail. +</p> + +<p> +The jails in most South American towns are generally of the least wholesome +sort. Built of huge cakes of sun-burnt brick, and containing but one room, +without windows or yard, and but one door heavily grated with wooden bars, they +present both within and without the grimmest aspect. As public edifices they +conspicuously stand upon the hot and dusty Plaza, offering to view, through the +gratings, their villainous and hopeless inmates, burrowing in all sorts of +tragic squalor. And here, for a long time, Oberlus was seen; the central figure +of a mongrel and assassin band; a creature whom it is religion to detest, since +it is philanthropy to hate a misanthrope. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<i>Note</i>.—They who may be disposed to question the possibility of the +character above depicted, are referred to the 2d vol. of Porter’s Voyage +into the Pacific, where they will recognize many sentences, for +expedition’s sake derived verbatim from thence, and incorporated here; +the main difference—save a few passing reflections—between the two +accounts being, that the present writer has added to Porter’s facts +accessory ones picked up in the Pacific from reliable sources; and where facts +conflict, has naturally preferred his own authorities to Porter’s. As, +for instance, <i>his</i> authorities place Oberlus on Hood’s Isle: +Porter’s, on Charles’s Isle. The letter found in the hut is also +somewhat different; for while at the Encantadas he was informed that, not only +did it evince a certain clerkliness, but was full of the strangest satiric +effrontery which does not adequately appear in Porter’s version. I +accordingly altered it to suit the general character of its author. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3>SKETCH TENTH.<br/> +RUNAWAYS, CASTAWAYS, SOLITARIES, GRAVE-STONES, ETC.</h3> + +<p class="poem"> +“And all about old stocks and stubs of trees,<br/> +    Whereon nor fruit nor leaf was ever seen,<br/> +Did hang upon ragged knotty knees,<br/> +    On which had many wretches hanged been.” +</p> + +<p> +Some relics of the hut of Oberlus partially remain to this day at the head of +the clinkered valley. Nor does the stranger, wandering among other of the +Enchanted Isles, fail to stumble upon still other solitary abodes, long +abandoned to the tortoise and the lizard. Probably few parts of earth have, in +modern times, sheltered so many solitaries. The reason is, that these isles are +situated in a distant sea, and the vessels which occasionally visit them are +mostly all whalers, or ships bound on dreary and protracted voyages, exempting +them in a good degree from both the oversight and the memory of human law. Such +is the character of some commanders and some seamen, that under these untoward +circumstances, it is quite impossible but that scenes of unpleasantness and +discord should occur between them. A sullen hatred of the tyrannic ship will +seize the sailor, and he gladly exchanges it for isles, which, though blighted +as by a continual sirocco and burning breeze, still offer him, in their +labyrinthine interior, a retreat beyond the possibility of capture. To flee the +ship in any Peruvian or Chilian port, even the smallest and most rustical, is +not unattended with great risk of apprehension, not to speak of jaguars. A +reward of five pesos sends fifty dastardly Spaniards into the wood, who, with +long knives, scour them day and night in eager hopes of securing their prey. +Neither is it, in general, much easier to escape pursuit at the isles of +Polynesia. Those of them which have felt a civilizing influence present the +same difficulty to the runaway with the Peruvian ports, the advanced natives +being quite as mercenary and keen of knife and scent as the retrograde +Spaniards; while, owing to the bad odor in which all Europeans lie, in the +minds of aboriginal savages who have chanced to hear aught of them, to desert +the ship among primitive Polynesians, is, in most cases, a hope not unforlorn. +Hence the Enchanted Isles become the voluntary tarrying places of all sorts of +refugees; some of whom too sadly experience the fact, that flight from tyranny +does not of itself insure a safe asylum, far less a happy home. +</p> + +<p> +Moreover, it has not seldom happened that hermits have been made upon the isles +by the accidents incident to tortoise-hunting. The interior of most of them is +tangled and difficult of passage beyond description; the air is sultry and +stifling; an intolerable thirst is provoked, for which no running stream offers +its kind relief. In a few hours, under an equatorial sun, reduced by these +causes to entire exhaustion, woe betide the straggler at the Enchanted Isles! +Their extent is such as to forbid an adequate search, unless weeks are devoted +to it. The impatient ship waits a day or two; when, the missing man remaining +undiscovered, up goes a stake on the beach, with a letter of regret, and a keg +of crackers and another of water tied to it, and away sails the craft. +</p> + +<p> +Nor have there been wanting instances where the inhumanity of some captains has +led them to wreak a secure revenge upon seamen who have given their caprice or +pride some singular offense. Thrust ashore upon the scorching marl, such +mariners are abandoned to perish outright, unless by solitary labors they +succeed in discovering some precious dribblets of moisture oozing from a rock +or stagnant in a mountain pool. +</p> + +<p> +I was well acquainted with a man, who, lost upon the Isle of Narborough, was +brought to such extremes by thirst, that at last he only saved his life by +taking that of another being. A large hair-seal came upon the beach. He rushed +upon it, stabbed it in the neck, and then throwing himself upon the panting +body quaffed at the living wound; the palpitations of the creature’s +dying heart injected life into the drinker. +</p> + +<p> +Another seaman, thrust ashore in a boat upon an isle at which no ship ever +touched, owing to its peculiar sterility and the shoals about it, and from +which all other parts of the group were hidden—this man, feeling that it +was sure death to remain there, and that nothing worse than death menaced him +in quitting it, killed seals, and inflating their skins, made a float, upon +which he transported himself to Charles’s Island, and joined the republic +there. +</p> + +<p> +But men, not endowed with courage equal to such desperate attempts, find their +only resource in forthwith seeking some watering-place, however precarious or +scanty; building a hut; catching tortoises and birds; and in all respects +preparing for a hermit life, till tide or time, or a passing ship arrives to +float them off. +</p> + +<p> +At the foot of precipices on many of the isles, small rude basins in the rocks +are found, partly filled with rotted rubbish or vegetable decay, or overgrown +with thickets, and sometimes a little moist; which, upon examination, reveal +plain tokens of artificial instruments employed in hollowing them out, by some +poor castaway or still more miserable runaway. These basins are made in places +where it was supposed some scanty drops of dew might exude into them from the +upper crevices. +</p> + +<p> +The relics of hermitages and stone basins are not the only signs of vanishing +humanity to be found upon the isles. And, curious to say, that spot which of +all others in settled communities is most animated, at the Enchanted Isles +presents the most dreary of aspects. And though it may seem very strange to +talk of post-offices in this barren region, yet post-offices are occasionally +to be found there. They consist of a stake and a bottle. The letters being not +only sealed, but corked. They are generally deposited by captains of +Nantucketers for the benefit of passing fishermen, and contain statements as to +what luck they had in whaling or tortoise-hunting. Frequently, however, long +months and months, whole years glide by and no applicant appears. The stake +rots and falls, presenting no very exhilarating object. +</p> + +<p> +If now it be added that grave-stones, or rather grave-boards, are also +discovered upon some of the isles, the picture will be complete. +</p> + +<p> +Upon the beach of James’s Isle, for many years, was to be seen a rude +finger-post, pointing inland. And, perhaps, taking it for some signal of +possible hospitality in this otherwise desolate spot—some good hermit +living there with his maple dish—the stranger would follow on in the path +thus indicated, till at last he would come out in a noiseless nook, and find +his only welcome, a dead man—his sole greeting the inscription over a +grave. Here, in 1813, fell, in a daybreak duel, a lieutenant of the U.S. +frigate Essex, aged twenty-one: attaining his majority in death. +</p> + +<p> +It is but fit that, like those old monastic institutions of Europe, whose +inmates go not out of their own walls to be inurned, but are entombed there +where they die, the Encantadas, too, should bury their own dead, even as the +great general monastery of earth does hers. +</p> + +<p> +It is known that burial in the ocean is a pure necessity of sea-faring life, +and that it is only done when land is far astern, and not clearly visible from +the bow. Hence, to vessels cruising in the vicinity of the Enchanted Isles, +they afford a convenient Potter’s Field. The interment over, some +good-natured forecastle poet and artist seizes his paint-brush, and inscribes a +doggerel epitaph. When, after a long lapse of time, other good-natured seamen +chance to come upon the spot, they usually make a table of the mound, and quaff +a friendly can to the poor soul’s repose. +</p> + +<p> +As a specimen of these epitaphs, take the following, found in a bleak gorge of +Chatham Isle:— +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Oh, Brother Jack, as you pass by,<br/> +As you are now, so once was I.<br/> +Just so game, and just so gay,<br/> +But now, alack, they’ve stopped my pay.<br/> +No more I peep out of my blinkers,<br/> +Here I be—tucked in with clinkers!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap06"></a>THE BELL-TOWER.</h2> + +<p> +In the south of Europe, nigh a once frescoed capital, now with dank mould +cankering its bloom, central in a plain, stands what, at distance, seems the +black mossed stump of some immeasurable pine, fallen, in forgotten days, with +Anak and the Titan. +</p> + +<p> +As all along where the pine tree falls, its dissolution leaves a mossy +mound—last-flung shadow of the perished trunk; never lengthening, never +lessening; unsubject to the fleet falsities of the sun; shade immutable, and +true gauge which cometh by prostration—so westward from what seems the +stump, one steadfast spear of lichened ruin veins the plain. +</p> + +<p> +From that tree-top, what birded chimes of silver throats had rung. A stone +pine; a metallic aviary in its crown: the Bell-Tower, built by the great +mechanician, the unblest foundling, Bannadonna. +</p> + +<p> +Like Babel’s, its base was laid in a high hour of renovated earth, +following the second deluge, when the waters of the Dark Ages had dried up, and +once more the green appeared. No wonder that, after so long and deep +submersion, the jubilant expectation of the race should, as with Noah’s +sons, soar into Shinar aspiration. +</p> + +<p> +In firm resolve, no man in Europe at that period went beyond Bannadonna. +Enriched through commerce with the Levant, the state in which he lived voted to +have the noblest Bell-Tower in Italy. His repute assigned him to be architect. +</p> + +<p> +Stone by stone, month by month, the tower rose. Higher, higher; snail-like in +pace, but torch or rocket in its pride. +</p> + +<p> +After the masons would depart, the builder, standing alone upon its +ever-ascending summit, at close of every day, saw that he overtopped still +higher walls and trees. He would tarry till a late hour there, wrapped in +schemes of other and still loftier piles. Those who of saints’ days +thronged the spot—hanging to the rude poles of scaffolding, like sailors +on yards, or bees on boughs, unmindful of lime and dust, and falling chips of +stone—their homage not the less inspirited him to self-esteem. +</p> + +<p> +At length the holiday of the Tower came. To the sound of viols, the +climax-stone slowly rose in air, and, amid the firing of ordnance, was laid by +Bannadonna’s hands upon the final course. Then mounting it, he stood +erect, alone, with folded arms, gazing upon the white summits of blue inland +Alps, and whiter crests of bluer Alps off-shore—sights invisible from the +plain. Invisible, too, from thence was that eye he turned below, when, like the +cannon booms, came up to him the people’s combustions of applause. +</p> + +<p> +That which stirred them so was, seeing with what serenity the builder stood +three hundred feet in air, upon an unrailed perch. This none but he durst do. +But his periodic standing upon the pile, in each stage of its growth—such +discipline had its last result. +</p> + +<p> +Little remained now but the bells. These, in all respects, must correspond with +their receptacle. +</p> + +<p> +The minor ones were prosperously cast. A highly enriched one followed, of a +singular make, intended for suspension in a manner before unknown. The purpose +of this bell, its rotary motion, and connection with the clock-work, also +executed at the time, will, in the sequel, receive mention. +</p> + +<p> +In the one erection, bell-tower and clock-tower were united, though, before +that period, such structures had commonly been built distinct; as the Campanile +and Torre del ’Orologio of St. Mark to this day attest. +</p> + +<p> +But it was upon the great state-bell that the founder lavished his more daring +skill. In vain did some of the less elated magistrates here caution him; saying +that though truly the tower was Titanic, yet limit should be set to the +dependent weight of its swaying masses. But undeterred, he prepared his mammoth +mould, dented with mythological devices; kindled his fires of balsamic firs; +melted his tin and copper, and, throwing in much plate, contributed by the +public spirit of the nobles, let loose the tide. +</p> + +<p> +The unleashed metals bayed like hounds. The workmen shrunk. Through their +fright, fatal harm to the bell was dreaded. Fearless as Shadrach, Bannadonna, +rushing through the glow, smote the chief culprit with his ponderous ladle. +From the smitten part, a splinter was dashed into the seething mass, and at +once was melted in. +</p> + +<p> +Next day a portion of the work was heedfully uncovered. All seemed right. Upon +the third morning, with equal satisfaction, it was bared still lower. At +length, like some old Theban king, the whole cooled casting was disinterred. +All was fair except in one strange spot. But as he suffered no one to attend +him in these inspections, he concealed the blemish by some preparation which +none knew better to devise. +</p> + +<p> +The casting of such a mass was deemed no small triumph for the caster; one, +too, in which the state might not scorn to share. The homicide was overlooked. +By the charitable that deed was but imputed to sudden transports of esthetic +passion, not to any flagitious quality. A kick from an Arabian charger; not +sign of vice, but blood. +</p> + +<p> +His felony remitted by the judge, absolution given him by the priest, what more +could even a sickly conscience have desired. +</p> + +<p> +Honoring the tower and its builder with another holiday, the republic witnessed +the hoisting of the bells and clock-work amid shows and pomps superior to the +former. +</p> + +<p> +Some months of more than usual solitude on Bannadonna’s part ensued. It +was not unknown that he was engaged upon something for the belfry, intended to +complete it, and surpass all that had gone before. Most people imagined that +the design would involve a casting like the bells. But those who thought they +had some further insight, would shake their heads, with hints, that not for +nothing did the mechanician keep so secret. Meantime, his seclusion failed not +to invest his work with more or less of that sort of mystery pertaining to the +forbidden. +</p> + +<p> +Ere long he had a heavy object hoisted to the belfry, wrapped in a dark sack or +cloak—a procedure sometimes had in the case of an elaborate piece of +sculpture, or statue, which, being intended to grace the front of a new +edifice, the architect does not desire exposed to critical eyes, till set up, +finished, in its appointed place. Such was the impression now. But, as the +object rose, a statuary present observed, or thought he did, that it was not +entirely rigid, but was, in a manner, pliant. At last, when the hidden thing +had attained its final height, and, obscurely seen from below, seemed almost of +itself to step into the belfry, as if with little assistance from the crane, a +shrewd old blacksmith present ventured the suspicion that it was but a living +man. This surmise was thought a foolish one, while the general interest failed +not to augment. +</p> + +<p> +Not without demur from Bannadonna, the chief-magistrate of the town, with an +associate—both elderly men—followed what seemed the image up the +tower. But, arrived at the belfry, they had little recompense. Plausibly +entrenching himself behind the conceded mysteries of his art, the mechanician +withheld present explanation. The magistrates glanced toward the cloaked +object, which, to their surprise, seemed now to have changed its attitude, or +else had before been more perplexingly concealed by the violent muffling action +of the wind without. It seemed now seated upon some sort of frame, or chair, +contained within the domino. They observed that nigh the top, in a sort of +square, the web of the cloth, either from accident or design, had its warp +partly withdrawn, and the cross threads plucked out here and there, so as to +form a sort of woven grating. Whether it were the low wind or no, stealing +through the stone lattice-work, or only their own perturbed imaginations, is +uncertain, but they thought they discerned a slight sort of fitful, spring-like +motion, in the domino. Nothing, however incidental or insignificant, escaped +their uneasy eyes. Among other things, they pried out, in a corner, an earthen +cup, partly corroded and partly encrusted, and one whispered to the other, that +this cup was just such a one as might, in mockery, be offered to the lips of +some brazen statue, or, perhaps, still worse. +</p> + +<p> +But, being questioned, the mechanician said, that the cup was simply used in +his founder’s business, and described the purpose; in short, a cup to +test the condition of metals in fusion. He added, that it had got into the +belfry by the merest chance. +</p> + +<p> +Again, and again, they gazed at the domino, as at some suspicious incognito at +a Venetian mask. All sorts of vague apprehensions stirred them. They even +dreaded lest, when they should descend, the mechanician, though without a flesh +and blood companion, for all that, would not be left alone. +</p> + +<p> +Affecting some merriment at their disquietude, he begged to relieve them, by +extending a coarse sheet of workman’s canvas between them and the object. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime he sought to interest them in his other work; nor, now that the domino +was out of sight, did they long remain insensible to the artistic wonders lying +round them; wonders hitherto beheld but in their unfinished state; because, +since hoisting the bells, none but the caster had entered within the belfry. It +was one trait of his, that, even in details, he would not let another do what +he could, without too great loss of time, accomplish for himself. So, for +several preceding weeks, whatever hours were unemployed in his secret design, +had been devoted to elaborating the figures on the bells. +</p> + +<p> +The clock-bell, in particular, now drew attention. Under a patient chisel, the +latent beauty of its enrichments, before obscured by the cloudings incident to +casting, that beauty in its shyest grace, was now revealed. Round and round the +bell, twelve figures of gay girls, garlanded, hand-in-hand, danced in a choral +ring—the embodied hours. +</p> + +<p> +“Bannadonna,” said the chief, “this bell excels all else. No +added touch could here improve. Hark!” hearing a sound, “was that +the wind?” +</p> + +<p> +“The wind, Excellenza,” was the light response. “But the +figures, they are not yet without their faults. They need some touches yet. +When those are given, and the—block yonder,” pointing towards the +canvas screen, “when Haman there, as I merrily call him,—him? +<i>it</i>, I mean—when Haman is fixed on this, his lofty tree, then, +gentlemen, will I be most happy to receive you here again.” +</p> + +<p> +The equivocal reference to the object caused some return of restlessness. +However, on their part, the visitors forbore further allusion to it, unwilling, +perhaps, to let the foundling see how easily it lay within his plebeian art to +stir the placid dignity of nobles. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Bannadonna,” said the chief, “how long ere you are +ready to set the clock going, so that the hour shall be sounded? Our interest +in you, not less than in the work itself, makes us anxious to be assured of +your success. The people, too,—why, they are shouting now. Say the exact +hour when you will be ready.” +</p> + +<p> +“To-morrow, Excellenza, if you listen for it,—or should you not, +all the same—strange music will be heard. The stroke of one shall be the +first from yonder bell,” pointing to the bell adorned with girls and +garlands, “that stroke shall fall there, where the hand of Una clasps +Dua’s. The stroke of one shall sever that loved clasp. To-morrow, then, +at one o’clock, as struck here, precisely here,” advancing and +placing his finger upon the clasp, “the poor mechanic will be most happy +once more to give you liege audience, in this his littered shop. Farewell till +then, illustrious magnificoes, and hark ye for your vassal’s +stroke.” +</p> + +<p> +His still, Vulcanic face hiding its burning brightness like a forge, he moved +with ostentatious deference towards the scuttle, as if so far to escort their +exit. But the junior magistrate, a kind-hearted man, troubled at what seemed to +him a certain sardonical disdain, lurking beneath the foundling’s humble +mien, and in Christian sympathy more distressed at it on his account than on +his own, dimly surmising what might be the final fate of such a cynic +solitaire, nor perhaps uninfluenced by the general strangeness of surrounding +things, this good magistrate had glanced sadly, sideways from the speaker, and +thereupon his foreboding eye had started at the expression of the unchanging +face of the Hour Una. +</p> + +<p> +“How is this, Bannadonna?” he lowly asked, “Una looks unlike +her sisters.” +</p> + +<p> +“In Christ’s name, Bannadonna,” impulsively broke in the +chief, his attention, for the first attracted to the figure, by his +associate’s remark, “Una’s face looks just like that of +Deborah, the prophetess, as painted by the Florentine, Del Fonca.” +</p> + +<p> +“Surely, Bannadonna,” lowly resumed the milder magistrate, +“you meant the twelve should wear the same jocundly abandoned air. But +see, the smile of Una seems but a fatal one. ’Tis different.” +</p> + +<p> +While his mild associate was speaking, the chief glanced, inquiringly, from him +to the caster, as if anxious to mark how the discrepancy would be accounted +for. As the chief stood, his advanced foot was on the scuttle’s curb. +</p> + +<p> +Bannadonna spoke: +</p> + +<p> +“Excellenza, now that, following your keener eye, I glance upon the face +of Una, I do, indeed perceive some little variance. But look all round the +bell, and you will find no two faces entirely correspond. Because there is a +law in art—but the cold wind is rising more; these lattices are but a +poor defense. Suffer me, magnificoes, to conduct you, at least, partly on your +way. Those in whose well-being there is a public stake, should be heedfully +attended.” +</p> + +<p> +“Touching the look of Una, you were saying, Bannadonna, that there was a +certain law in art,” observed the chief, as the three now descended the +stone shaft, “pray, tell me, then—.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon; another time, Excellenza;—the tower is damp.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, I must rest, and hear it now. Here,—here is a wide landing, +and through this leeward slit, no wind, but ample light. Tell us of your law; +and at large.” +</p> + +<p> +“Since, Excellenza, you insist, know that there is a law in art, which +bars the possibility of duplicates. Some years ago, you may remember, I graved +a small seal for your republic, bearing, for its chief device, the head of your +own ancestor, its illustrious founder. It becoming necessary, for the +customs’ use, to have innumerable impressions for bales and boxes, I +graved an entire plate, containing one hundred of the seals. Now, though, +indeed, my object was to have those hundred heads identical, and though, I dare +say, people think them; so, yet, upon closely scanning an uncut impression from +the plate, no two of those five-score faces, side by side, will be found alike. +Gravity is the air of all; but, diversified in all. In some, benevolent; in +some, ambiguous; in two or three, to a close scrutiny, all but incipiently +malign, the variation of less than a hair’s breadth in the linear +shadings round the mouth sufficing to all this. Now, Excellenza, transmute that +general gravity into joyousness, and subject it to twelve of those variations I +have described, and tell me, will you not have my hours here, and Una one of +them? But I like—.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hark! is that—a footfall above?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mortar, Excellenza; sometimes it drops to the belfry-floor from the arch +where the stonework was left undressed. I must have it seen to. As I was about +to say: for one, I like this law forbidding duplicates. It evokes fine +personalities. Yes, Excellenza, that strange, and—to you—uncertain +smile, and those fore-looking eyes of Una, suit Bannadonna very well.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hark!—sure we left no soul above?” +</p> + +<p> +“No soul, Excellenza; rest assured, no <i>soul</i>—Again the +mortar.” +</p> + +<p> +“It fell not while we were there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, in your presence, it better knew its place, Excellenza,” +blandly bowed Bannadonna. +</p> + +<p> +“But, Una,” said the milder magistrate, “she seemed intently +gazing on you; one would have almost sworn that she picked you out from among +us three.” +</p> + +<p> +“If she did, possibly, it might have been her finer apprehension, +Excellenza.” +</p> + +<p> +“How, Bannadonna? I do not understand you.” +</p> + +<p> +“No consequence, no consequence, Excellenza—but the shifted wind is +blowing through the slit. Suffer me to escort you on; and then, pardon, but the +toiler must to his tools.” +</p> + +<p> +“It may be foolish, Signor,” said the milder magistrate, as, from +the third landing, the two now went down unescorted, “but, somehow, our +great mechanician moves me strangely. Why, just now, when he so superciliously +replied, his walk seemed Sisera’s, God’s vain foe, in Del +Fonca’s painting. And that young, sculptured Deborah, too. Ay, and +that—.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tush, tush, Signor!” returned the chief. “A passing whim. +Deborah?—Where’s Jael, pray?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” said the other, as they now stepped upon the sod, “Ah, +Signor, I see you leave your fears behind you with the chill and gloom; but +mine, even in this sunny air, remain. Hark!” +</p> + +<p> +It was a sound from just within the tower door, whence they had emerged. +Turning, they saw it closed. +</p> + +<p> +“He has slipped down and barred us out,” smiled the chief; +“but it is his custom.” +</p> + +<p> +Proclamation was now made, that the next day, at one hour after meridian, the +clock would strike, and—thanks to the mechanician’s powerful +art—with unusual accompaniments. But what those should be, none as yet +could say. The announcement was received with cheers. +</p> + +<p> +By the looser sort, who encamped about the tower all night, lights were seen +gleaming through the topmost blind-work, only disappearing with the morning +sun. Strange sounds, too, were heard, or were thought to be, by those whom +anxious watching might not have left mentally undisturbed—sounds, not +only of some ringing implement, but also—so they +said—half-suppressed screams and plainings, such as might have issued +from some ghostly engine, overplied. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly the day drew on; part of the concourse chasing the weary time with songs +and games, till, at last, the great blurred sun rolled, like a football, +against the plain. +</p> + +<p> +At noon, the nobility and principal citizens came from the town in cavalcade, a +guard of soldiers, also, with music, the more to honor the occasion. +</p> + +<p> +Only one hour more. Impatience grew. Watches were held in hands of feverish +men, who stood, now scrutinizing their small dial-plates, and then, with neck +thrown back, gazing toward the belfry, as if the eye might foretell that which +could only be made sensible to the ear; for, as yet, there was no dial to the +tower-clock. +</p> + +<p> +The hour hands of a thousand watches now verged within a hair’s breadth +of the figure 1. A silence, as of the expectation of some Shiloh, pervaded the +swarming plain. Suddenly a dull, mangled sound—naught ringing in it; +scarcely audible, indeed, to the outer circles of the people—that dull +sound dropped heavily from the belfry. At the same moment, each man stared at +his neighbor blankly. All watches were upheld. All hour-hands were at—had +passed—the figure 1. No bell-stroke from the tower. The multitude became +tumultuous. +</p> + +<p> +Waiting a few moments, the chief magistrate, commanding silence, hailed the +belfry, to know what thing unforeseen had happened there. +</p> + +<p> +No response. +</p> + +<p> +He hailed again and yet again. +</p> + +<p> +All continued hushed. +</p> + +<p> +By his order, the soldiers burst in the tower-door; when, stationing guards to +defend it from the now surging mob, the chief, accompanied by his former +associate, climbed the winding stairs. Half-way up, they stopped to listen. No +sound. Mounting faster, they reached the belfry; but, at the threshold, started +at the spectacle disclosed. A spaniel, which, unbeknown to them, had followed +them thus far, stood shivering as before some unknown monster in a brake: or, +rather, as if it snuffed footsteps leading to some other world. +</p> + +<p> +Bannadonna lay, prostrate and bleeding, at the base of the bell which was +adorned with girls and garlands. He lay at the feet of the hour Una; his head +coinciding, in a vertical line, with her left hand, clasped by the hour Dua. +With downcast face impending over him, like Jael over nailed Sisera in the +tent, was the domino; now no more becloaked. +</p> + +<p> +It had limbs, and seemed clad in a scaly mail, lustrous as a +dragon-beetle’s. It was manacled, and its clubbed arms were uplifted, as +if, with its manacles, once more to smite its already smitten victim. One +advanced foot of it was inserted beneath the dead body, as if in the act of +spurning it. +</p> + +<p> +Uncertainty falls on what now followed. +</p> + +<p> +It were but natural to suppose that the magistrates would, at first, shrink +from immediate personal contact with what they saw. At the least, for a time, +they would stand in involuntary doubt; it may be, in more or less of horrified +alarm. Certain it is, that an arquebuss was called for from below. And some +add, that its report, followed by a fierce whiz, as of the sudden snapping of a +main-spring, with a steely din, as if a stack of sword-blades should be dashed +upon a pavement, these blended sounds came ringing to the plain, attracting +every eye far upward to the belfry, whence, through the lattice-work, thin +wreaths of smoke were curling. +</p> + +<p> +Some averred that it was the spaniel, gone mad by fear, which was shot. This, +others denied. True it was, the spaniel never more was seen; and, probably, for +some unknown reason, it shared the burial now to be related of the domino. For, +whatever the preceding circumstances may have been, the first instinctive panic +over, or else all ground of reasonable fear removed, the two magistrates, by +themselves, quickly rehooded the figure in the dropped cloak wherein it had +been hoisted. The same night, it was secretly lowered to the ground, smuggled +to the beach, pulled far out to sea, and sunk. Nor to any after urgency, even +in free convivial hours, would the twain ever disclose the full secrets of the +belfry. +</p> + +<p> +From the mystery unavoidably investing it, the popular solution of the +foundling’s fate involved more or less of supernatural agency. But some +few less unscientific minds pretended to find little difficulty in otherwise +accounting for it. In the chain of circumstantial inferences drawn, there may, +or may not, have been some absent or defective links. But, as the explanation +in question is the only one which tradition has explicitly preserved, in dearth +of better, it will here be given. But, in the first place, it is requisite to +present the supposition entertained as to the entire motive and mode, with +their origin, of the secret design of Bannadonna; the minds above-mentioned +assuming to penetrate as well into his soul as into the event. The disclosure +will indirectly involve reference to peculiar matters, none of, the clearest, +beyond the immediate subject. +</p> + +<p> +At that period, no large bell was made to sound otherwise than as at present, +by agitation of a tongue within, by means of ropes, or percussion from without, +either from cumbrous machinery, or stalwart watchmen, armed with heavy hammers, +stationed in the belfry, or in sentry-boxes on the open roof, according as the +bell was sheltered or exposed. +</p> + +<p> +It was from observing these exposed bells, with their watchmen, that the +foundling, as was opined, derived the first suggestion of his scheme. Perched +on a great mast or spire, the human figure, viewed from below, undergoes such a +reduction in its apparent size, as to obliterate its intelligent features. It +evinces no personality. Instead of bespeaking volition, its gestures rather +resemble the automatic ones of the arms of a telegraph. +</p> + +<p> +Musing, therefore, upon the purely Punchinello aspect of the human figure thus +beheld, it had indirectly occurred to Bannadonna to devise some metallic agent, +which should strike the hour with its mechanic hand, with even greater +precision than the vital one. And, moreover, as the vital watchman on the roof, +sallying from his retreat at the given periods, walked to the bell with +uplifted mace, to smite it, Bannadonna had resolved that his invention should +likewise possess the power of locomotion, and, along with that, the appearance, +at least, of intelligence and will. +</p> + +<p> +If the conjectures of those who claimed acquaintance with the intent of +Bannadonna be thus far correct, no unenterprising spirit could have been his. +But they stopped not here; intimating that though, indeed, his design had, in +the first place, been prompted by the sight of the watchman, and confined to +the devising of a subtle substitute for him: yet, as is not seldom the case +with projectors, by insensible gradations, proceeding from comparatively pigmy +aims to Titanic ones, the original scheme had, in its anticipated +eventualities, at last, attained to an unheard of degree of daring. +</p> + +<p> +He still bent his efforts upon the locomotive figure for the belfry, but only +as a partial type of an ulterior creature, a sort of elephantine Helot, adapted +to further, in a degree scarcely to be imagined, the universal conveniences and +glories of humanity; supplying nothing less than a supplement to the Six +Days’ Work; stocking the earth with a new serf, more useful than the ox, +swifter than the dolphin, stronger than the lion, more cunning than the ape, +for industry an ant, more fiery than serpents, and yet, in patience, another +ass. All excellences of all God-made creatures, which served man, were here to +receive advancement, and then to be combined in one. Talus was to have been the +all-accomplished Helot’s name. Talus, iron slave to Bannadonna, and, +through him, to man. +</p> + +<p> +Here, it might well be thought that, were these last conjectures as to the +foundling’s secrets not erroneous, then must he have been hopelessly +infected with the craziest chimeras of his age; far outgoing Albert Magus and +Cornelius Agrippa. But the contrary was averred. However marvelous his design, +however apparently transcending not alone the bounds of human invention, but +those of divine creation, yet the proposed means to be employed were alleged to +have been confined within the sober forms of sober reason. It was affirmed +that, to a degree of more than skeptic scorn, Bannadonna had been without +sympathy for any of the vain-glorious irrationalities of his time. For example, +he had not concluded, with the visionaries among the metaphysicians, that +between the finer mechanic forces and the ruder animal vitality some germ of +correspondence might prove discoverable. As little did his scheme partake of +the enthusiasm of some natural philosophers, who hoped, by physiological and +chemical inductions, to arrive at a knowledge of the source of life, and so +qualify themselves to manufacture and improve upon it. Much less had he aught +in common with the tribe of alchemists, who sought, by a species of +incantations, to evoke some surprising vitality from the laboratory. Neither +had he imagined, with certain sanguine theosophists, that, by faithful +adoration of the Highest, unheard-of powers would be vouchsafed to man. A +practical materialist, what Bannadonna had aimed at was to have been reached, +not by logic, not by crucible, not by conjuration, not by altars; but by plain +vice-bench and hammer. In short, to solve nature, to steal into her, to +intrigue beyond her, to procure some one else to bind her to his +hand;—these, one and all, had not been his objects; but, asking no favors +from any element or any being, of himself, to rival her, outstrip her, and rule +her. He stooped to conquer. With him, common sense was theurgy; machinery, +miracle; Prometheus, the heroic name for machinist; man, the true God. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, in his initial step, so far as the experimental automaton for the +belfry was concerned, he allowed fancy some little play; or, perhaps, what +seemed his fancifulness was but his utilitarian ambition collaterally extended. +In figure, the creature for the belfry should not be likened after the human +pattern, nor any animal one, nor after the ideals, however wild, of ancient +fable, but equally in aspect as in organism be an original production; the more +terrible to behold, the better. +</p> + +<p> +Such, then, were the suppositions as to the present scheme, and the reserved +intent. How, at the very threshold, so unlooked for a catastrophe overturned +all, or rather, what was the conjecture here, is now to be set forth. +</p> + +<p> +It was thought that on the day preceding the fatality, his visitors having left +him, Bannadonna had unpacked the belfry image, adjusted it, and placed it in +the retreat provided—a sort of sentry-box in one corner of the belfry; in +short, throughout the night, and for some part of the ensuing morning, he had +been engaged in arranging everything connected with the domino; the issuing +from the sentry-box each sixty minutes; sliding along a grooved way, like a +railway; advancing to the clock-bell, with uplifted manacles; striking it at +one of the twelve junctions of the four-and-twenty hands; then wheeling, +circling the bell, and retiring to its post, there to bide for another sixty +minutes, when the same process was to be repeated; the bell, by a cunning +mechanism, meantime turning on its vertical axis, so as to present, to the +descending mace, the clasped hands of the next two figures, when it would +strike two, three, and so on, to the end. The musical metal in this time-bell +being so managed in the fusion, by some art, perishing with its originator, +that each of the clasps of the four-and-twenty hands should give forth its own +peculiar resonance when parted. +</p> + +<p> +But on the magic metal, the magic and metallic stranger never struck but that +one stroke, drove but that one nail, served but that one clasp, by which +Bannadonna clung to his ambitious life. For, after winding up the creature in +the sentry-box, so that, for the present, skipping the intervening hours, it +should not emerge till the hour of one, but should then infallibly emerge, and, +after deftly oiling the grooves whereon it was to slide, it was surmised that +the mechanician must then have hurried to the bell, to give his final touches +to its sculpture. True artist, he here became absorbed; and absorption still +further intensified, it may be, by his striving to abate that strange look of +Una; which, though, before others, he had treated with such unconcern, might +not, in secret, have been without its thorn. +</p> + +<p> +And so, for the interval, he was oblivious of his creature; which, not +oblivious of him, and true to its creation, and true to its heedful winding up, +left its post precisely at the given moment; along its well-oiled route, slid +noiselessly towards its mark; and, aiming at the hand of Una, to ring one +clangorous note, dully smote the intervening brain of Bannadonna, turned +backwards to it; the manacled arms then instantly up-springing to their +hovering poise. The falling body clogged the thing’s return; so there it +stood, still impending over Bannadonna, as if whispering some post-mortem +terror. The chisel lay dropped from the hand, but beside the hand; the +oil-flask spilled across the iron track. +</p> + +<p> +In his unhappy end, not unmindful of the rare genius of the mechanician, the +republic decreed him a stately funeral. It was resolved that the great +bell—the one whose casting had been jeopardized through the timidity of +the ill-starred workman—should be rung upon the entrance of the bier into +the cathedral. The most robust man of the country round was assigned the office +of bell-ringer. +</p> + +<p> +But as the pall-bearers entered the cathedral porch, naught but a broken and +disastrous sound, like that of some lone Alpine land-slide, fell from the tower +upon their ears. And then, all was hushed. +</p> + +<p> +Glancing backwards, they saw the groined belfry crashed sideways in. It +afterwards appeared that the powerful peasant, who had the bell-rope in charge, +wishing to test at once the full glory of the bell, had swayed down upon the +rope with one concentrate jerk. The mass of quaking metal, too ponderous for +its frame, and strangely feeble somewhere at its top, loosed from its +fastening, tore sideways down, and tumbling in one sheer fall, three hundred +feet to the soft sward below, buried itself inverted and half out of sight. +</p> + +<p> +Upon its disinterment, the main fracture was found to have started from a small +spot in the ear; which, being scraped, revealed a defect, deceptively minute in +the casting; which defect must subsequently have been pasted over with some +unknown compound. +</p> + +<p> +The remolten metal soon reassumed its place in the tower’s repaired +superstructure. For one year the metallic choir of birds sang musically in its +belfry-bough-work of sculptured blinds and traceries. But on the first +anniversary of the tower’s completion—at early dawn, before the +concourse had surrounded it—an earthquake came; one loud crash was heard. +The stone-pine, with all its bower of songsters, lay overthrown upon the plain. +</p> + +<p> +So the blind slave obeyed its blinder lord; but, in obedience, slew him. So the +creator was killed by the creature. So the bell was too heavy for the tower. So +the bell’s main weakness was where man’s blood had flawed it. And +so pride went before the fall. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PIAZZA TALES ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, +and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following +the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use +of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for +copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very +easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation +of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project +Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may +do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected +by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark +license, especially commercial redistribution. +</div> + +<div style='margin:0.83em 0; font-size:1.1em; text-align:center'>START: FULL LICENSE<br /> +<span style='font-size:smaller'>THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE<br /> +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK</span> +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full +Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at +www.gutenberg.org/license. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or +destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your +possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a +Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound +by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person +or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this +agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ +electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the +Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection +of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual +works in the collection are in the public domain in the United +States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the +United States and you are located in the United States, we do not +claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, +displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as +all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope +that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting +free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ +works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the +Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily +comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the +same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when +you share it without charge with others. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are +in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, +check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this +agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, +distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any +other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no +representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any +country other than the United States. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other +immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear +prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work +on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, +performed, viewed, copied or distributed: +</div> + +<blockquote> + <div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> + This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most + other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions + whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms + of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online + at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you + are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws + of the country where you are located before using this eBook. + </div> +</blockquote> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is +derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not +contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the +copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in +the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are +redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply +either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or +obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ +trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any +additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms +will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works +posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the +beginning of this work. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg™ License. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including +any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access +to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format +other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official +version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website +(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense +to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means +of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain +Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the +full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +provided that: +</div> + +<div style='margin-left:0.7em;'> + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed + to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has + agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid + within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are + legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty + payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in + Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg + Literary Archive Foundation.” + </div> + + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ + License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all + copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue + all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ + works. + </div> + + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of + any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of + receipt of the work. + </div> + + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. + </div> +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project +Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than +are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing +from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of +the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set +forth in Section 3 below. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project +Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ +electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may +contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate +or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or +other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or +cannot be read by your equipment. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium +with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you +with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in +lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person +or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second +opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If +the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing +without further opportunities to fix the problem. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO +OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of +damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement +violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the +agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or +limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or +unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the +remaining provisions. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in +accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the +production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ +electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, +including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of +the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this +or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or +additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any +Defect you cause. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of +computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It +exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations +from people in all walks of life. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future +generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see +Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by +U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, +Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up +to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website +and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread +public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND +DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state +visit <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/donate/">www.gutenberg.org/donate</a>. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To +donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project +Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be +freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and +distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of +volunteer support. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in +the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not +necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper +edition. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Most people start at our website which has the main PG search +facility: <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. +</div> + +</div> + +</body> + +</html> + + |