Wacousta : a tale of the Pontiac conspiracy Volume 3
Richardson, John, 1796-1852
English
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Below is a summary of Wacousta : a tale of the Pontiac conspiracy Volume 3
This etext was produced by Gardner Buchanan with help from
Charles Franks and the distributed proofers.
WACOUSTA;
or
THE PROPHECY.
Volume Three of Three
CHAPTER I.
The night passed away without further event on board the
schooner, yet in all the anxiety that might be supposed
incident to men so perilously situated. Habits of long-since
acquired superstition, too powerful to be easily shaken
off, moreover contributed to the dejection of the mariners,
among whom there were not wanting those who believed the
silent steersman was in reality what their comrade had
represented,--an immaterial being, sent from the world
of spirits to warn them of some impending evil. What
principally gave weight to this impression were the
repeated asseverations of Fuller, during the sleepless
night passed by all on deck, that what he had seen was
no other, could be no other, than a ghost! exhibiting in
its hueless, fleshless cheek, the well-known lineaments
of one who was supposed to be no more: and, if the story
of their comrade had needed confirmation among men in
whom faith in, rather than love for, the marvellous was
a constitutional ingredient, the terrible effect that
seemed to have been produced on Captain de Haldimar by
the same mysterious visitation would have been more than
conclusive. The very appearance of the night, too,
favoured the delusion. The heavens, comparatively clear
at the moment when the canoe approached the vessel, became
suddenly enveloped in the deepest gloom at its departure,
as if to enshroud the course of those who, having so
mysteriously approached, had also so unaccountably
disappeared. Nor had this threatening state of the
atmosphere the counterbalancing advantage of storm and
tempest to drive them onward through the narrow waters
of the Sinclair, and enable them, by anticipating the
pursuit of their enemies, to shun the Scylla and Charybdis
that awaited their more leisure advance. The wind increased
not; and the disappointed seamen remarked, with dismay,
that their craft scarcely made more progress than at the
moment when she first quitted her anchorage.
It was now near the first hours of day; and although,
perhaps, none slept, there were few who were not apparently
at rest, and plunged in the most painful reflections.
Still occupying her humble couch, and shielded from the
night air merely by the cloak that covered her own
blood-stained garments, lay the unhappy Clara, her deep
groans and stifled sobs bursting occasionally from her
pent-up heart, and falling on the ears of the mariners
like sounds of fearful import, produced by the mysterious
agency that already bore such undivided power over their
thoughts. On the bare deck, at her side, lay her brother,
his face turned upon the planks, as if to shut out all
objects from eyes he had not the power to close; and,
with one arm supporting his heavy brow, while the other,
cast around the restless form of his beloved sister,
seemed to offer protection and to impart confidence, even
while his lips denied the accents of consolation. Seated
on an empty hen-coop at their head, was Sir Everard
Valletort, his back reposing against the bulwarks of the
vessel, his arms folded across his chest, and his eyes
bent mechanically on the man at the helm, who stood within
a few paces of him,--an attitude of absorption, which
he, ever and anon, changed to one of anxious and enquiring
interest, whenever the agitation of Clara was manifested
in the manner already shown.
The main deck and forecastle of the vessel presented a
similar picture of mingled unquietness and repose. Many
of the seamen might be seen seated on the gun-carriages,
with their cheeks pressing the rude metal that served
them for a pillow. Others lay along the decks, with their
heads resting on the elevated hatches; while not a few,
squatted on their haunches with their knees doubled up
to their very chins, supported in that position the aching
head that rested between their rough and horny palms.
A first glance might have induced the belief that all
were buried in the most profound slumber; but the quick
jerking of a limb,--the fitful, sudden shifting of a
position,--the utter absence of that deep breathing which
indicates the unconsciousness of repose, and the occasional
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