[page 351:] |
||
|
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  SOME years
ago, I engaged passage from Charleston, S. C., to the city of New York,
in the fine packet-ship "Independence," Captain Hardy. We were to sail
on the fifteenth of the month (June,) weather permitting; and, on the
fourteenth,
I went on board to arrange some matters in my state[[-]]room. I found that we were to have a great many
passengers,
including a
more
than usual number of ladies. On the list were several of my
acquaintances;
and among other names, I was rejoiced to see that of Mr. Cornelius
Wyatt,
a young artist, for whom I entertained feelings of warm friendship. He
had been with me a fellow-student at C—— University, where we were
very
much together. He had the ordinary temperament of genius, and was a
compound
of misanthropy, sensibility, and enthusiasm. To these qualities he
united
the warmest and truest heart which ever beat in a human bosom. I observed that his name was carded upon three
state[[-]]rooms; and,
upon
again referring to the list of passengers, I found that he had engaged
passage for himself, wife, and two sisters — his own. The
state[[-]]rooms
were sufficiently roomy, and each had two berths, one above the other.
These berths, to be sure, were so exceedingly narrow as to be
insufficient
for more than one person; still, I could not comprehend why there were three
state-rooms for these four persons. I was,
just at that epoch, in
one of those moody frames of mind which make a man abnormally
inquisitive
about trifles; and I confess, with shame, that I busied myself in a
variety
of ill-bred and preposterous conjectures about this matter of [page
352:] the
supernumerary
state-room. It was no business of mine, to be sure; but with none the
less
pertinacity did I occupy myself in attempts to resolve the enigma. At
last
I reached a conclusion which wrought in me great wonder why I had not
arrived
at it before. "It is a servant, of course," I said; "what a fool I am,
not
sooner to have thought of so obvious a solution!" And then I again
repaired
to the list — but here I saw distinctly that no servant was to
come
with
the party; although, in fact, it had been the original design to bring
one — for the words "and servant" had been first written and then
overscored.
"Oh, extra baggage to be sure," I now said to myself — "something he
wishes not to be put in the hold — something to be kept under his own
eye — ah, I have it — a painting or so — and this is what he has
been
bargaining about with Nicolino, the Italian Jew." This idea satisfied
me,
and I dismissed my curiosity for the nonce. Wyatt's two sisters I knew very well, and most
amiable
and clever
girls
they were. His wife he had newly married, and I had never yet seen her.
He had often talked about her in my presence, however, and in his usual
style of enthusiasm. He described her as of surpassing beauty, wit, and
accomplishment. I was, therefore, quite anxious to make her
acquaintance. On the day in which I visited the ship, (the
fourteenth,)
Wyatt and
party
were also to visit it — so the captain informed me — and I waited on
board an hour longer than I had designed, in hope of being presented to
the bride; but then an apology came. "Mrs. W. was a little indisposed,
and would decline coming on board until to-morrow, at the hour of
sailing." The morrow having arrived, I was going from my hotel
to
the wharf,
when
Captain Hardy met me and said that, "owing to circumstances," (a stupid
but convenient phrase,) "he rather thought the 'Independence' would not
sail for a day or two, and that when all was ready, he would send up
and
let me know." This I thought strange, for there was a stiff southerly
breeze;
but as "the circumstances" were not forthcoming, although I pumped for
them with much perseverance, I had nothing to do but to return home and
digest my impatience at leisure. I did not receive the expected message from the
captain
for nearly a
week. It came at length, however, and I immediately [page 353:]
went on board. The
ship was crowded with passengers, and everything was in the bustle
attendant
upon making sail. Wyatt's party arrived in about ten minutes after
myself.
There were the two sisters, the bride, and the artist — the latter in
one of his customary fits of moody misanthropy. I was too well used to
these, however, to pay them any special attention. He did not even
introduce
me to his wife; — this courtesy devolving, per force, upon his sister
Marian — a very sweet and intelligent girl, who, in a few hurried
words, made
us acquainted. Mrs. Wyatt had been closely veiled; and when she
raised
her veil, in
acknowledging my bow, I confess that I was very profoundly astonished.
I should have been much more so, however, had not long experience
advised
me not to trust, with too implicit a reliance, the enthusiastic
descriptions
of my friend, the artist, when indulging in comments upon the
loveliness
of woman. When beauty was the theme, I well knew with what facility he
soared into the regions of the purely ideal. The truth is, I could not help regarding Mrs. Wyatt
as a
decidedly
plain-looking
woman. If not positively ugly, she was not, I think, very far from it.
She was dressed, however, in exquisite taste — and then I had no doubt
that she had captivated my friend's heart by the more enduring graces
of
the intellect and soul. She said very few words, and passed at once
into
her state-room with Mr. W. My old inquisitiveness now returned. There was no
servant — that
was
a settled point. I looked, therefore, for the extra baggage. After some
delay, a cart arrived at the wharf, with an oblong pine box, which was
everything that seemed to be expected. Immediately upon its arrival we
made sail, and in a short time were safely over the bar and standing
out
to sea. The box in question was, as I say, oblong. It was
about
six feet in
length by two and a half in breadth; — I observed it attentively, and
like
to be precise. Now this shape was peculiar; and no sooner had I
seen
it,
than I took credit to myself for the accuracy of my guessing. I had
reached
the conclusion, it will be remembered, that the extra baggage of my
friend,
the artist, would prove to be pictures, or at least a picture; for I
knew
he had been for several weeks in conference with Nicolino: — and now [page
354:]
here
was a box which, from its shape, could possibly contain nothing
in the
world but a copy of Leonardo's "Last Supper;" and a copy of this very
"Last
Supper," done by Rubini the younger, at Florence, I had known, for some
time, to be in the possession of Nicolino. This point, therefore, I
considered
as sufficiently settled. I chuckled excessively when I thought of my
acumen.
It was the first time I had ever known Wyatt to keep from me any of his
artistical secrets; but here he evidently intended to steal a march
upon
me, and smuggle a fine picture to New York, under my very nose;
expecting
me to know nothing of the matter. I resolved to quiz him well,
now and
hereafter. One thing, however, annoyed me not a little. The box
did not go into
the extra state-room. It was deposited in Wyatt's own; and there, too,
it remained, occupying very nearly the whole of the floor — no doubt
to
the exceeding discomfort of the artist and his wife; — this the more
especially
as the tar or paint with which it was lettered in sprawling capitals,
emitted
a strong, disagreeable, and, to my fancy, a peculiarly
disgusting odor.
On the lid were painted the words — "Mrs. Adelaide Curtis, Albany,
New
York. Charge of Cornelius Wyatt, Esq. This side up. To be handled with
care." Now, I was aware that Mrs. Adelaide Curtis, of
Albany,
was the
artist's
wife's mother; — but then I looked upon the whole address as a
mystification,
intended especially for myself. I made up my mind, of course, that the
box and contents would never get farther north than the studio of my
misanthropic
friend, in Chambers Street, New York. For the first three or four days we had fine
weather,
although the
wind
was dead ahead; having chopped round to the northward, immediately upon
our losing sight of the coast. The passengers were, consequently, in
high
spirits, and disposed to be social. I must except, however,
Wyatt and
his
sisters, who behaved stiffly, and, I could not help thinking,
uncourteously
to the rest of the party. Wyatt's conduct I did not so much
regard. He
was gloomy, even beyond his usual habit — in fact he was morose
— but
in him I was prepared for eccentricity. For the sisters, however, I
could
make no excuse. They secluded themselves in their state-rooms during
the
greater part of the passage, and [page 365:] absolutely
refused, although I
repeatedly
urged them, to hold communication with any person on board. Mrs. Wyatt herself was far more agreeable. That is
to
say, she was chatty;
and to be chatty is no slight recommendation at sea. She became excessively
intimate with most of the ladies; and, to my profound astonishment,
evinced
no equivocal disposition to coquet with the men. She amused us all very
much. I say "amused" — and scarcely know how to explain myself.
The
truth
is, I soon found that Mrs. W. was far oftener laughed at than with.
The
gentlemen said little about her; but the ladies, in a little while,
pronounced
her "a good-hearted thing, rather indifferent-looking, totally
uneducated,
and decidedly vulgar." The great wonder was, how Wyatt had been
entrapped
into such a match. Wealth was the general solution — but this I knew to
be no solution at all; for Wyatt had told me that she neither brought
him
a dollar nor had any expectations from any source whatever. "He had
married,"
he said, "for love, and for love only; and his bride was far more than
worthy of his love." When I thought of these expressions, on the part
of
my friend, I confess that I felt indescribably puzzled. Could it be
possible
that he was taking leave of his senses? What else could I think? He,
so
refined, so intellectual, so fastidious, with so exquisite a perception
of the faulty, and so keen an appreciation of the beautiful! To be
sure,
the lady seemed especially fond of him — particularly so in his
absence — when she made herself ridiculous by frequent quotations of
what had
been said by her "beloved husband, Mr. Wyatt." The word "husband"
seemed
forever — to use one of her own delicate expressions — forever "on the
tip of her tongue." In the meantime, it was observed by all on board,
that
he avoided her in the most pointed manner, and, for the most
part, shut
himself up alone in his state-room, where, in fact, he might have been
said to live altogether, leaving his wife at full liberty to amuse
herself
as she thought best, in the public society of the main cabin. My conclusion, from what I saw and heard, was, that,
the
artist, by
some unaccountable freak of fate, or perhaps in some fit of
enthusiastic
and fanciful passion, had been induced to unite himself with a person
altogether
beneath him, and that the natural result, entire and speedy disgust,
had
ensued. I pitied him from the [page 356:] bottom of my heart —
but could not, for
that reason, quite forgive his incommunicativeness in the matter of the
"Last Supper." For this I resolved to have my revenge. One day he came upon deck, and, taking his arm as
had
been my wont,
I sauntered with him backwards and forwards. His gloom, however, (which
I
considered quite natural under the circumstances,) seemed entirely
unabated.
He said little, and that moodily, and with evident effort. I ventured a
jest or two, and he made a sickening attempt at a smile. Poor fellow! —
as I thought of his wife, I wondered that he could have heart
to put on
even the semblance of mirth. At last I ventured a home thrust. I
determined to commence a series of
covert
insinuations, or innuendoes, about the oblong box — just to let him
perceive,
gradually, that I was not altogether the butt, or victim, of
his little
bit of pleasant mystification. My first observation was by way of
opening
a masked battery. I said something about the "peculiar shape of that
box;"
and, as I spoke the words, I smiled knowingly, winked, and touched him
gently with my fore-finger in the ribs. The manner in which Wyatt received this harmless
pleasantry,
convinced
me, at once, that he was mad. At first he stared at me as if he found
it
impossible to comprehend the witticism of my remark; but as its point
seemed
slowly to make its way into his brain, his eyes in the same
proportion,
seemed protruding from their sockets. Then he grew very red — then
hideously
pale — then, as if highly amused with what I had insinuated, he began
a loud and boisterous laugh, which, to my astonishment, he kept up,
with
gradually increasing vigor, for ten minutes or more. In conclusion, he
fell flat and heavily upon the deck. When I ran to uplift him, to all
appearance
he was dead. I called assistance, and, with much difficulty, we
brought him to
himself.
Upon reviving he spoke incoherently for some time. At length we bled
him
and put him to bed. The next morning he was quite recovered, so far as
regarded his mere bodily health. Of his mind I say nothing, of course.
I avoided him during the rest of the passage, by advice of the captain,
who seemed to coincide with me altogether in my views of his insanity,
but cautioned me to say nothing on this head to any person on board. [page
357:]Several circumstances occurred immediately after
this
fit of Wyatt's,
which
contributed to heighten the curiosity with which I was already
possessed.
Among other things, this: I had been nervous — drank too much strong
green
tea, and slept ill at night — in fact, for two nights I could not be
properly
said to sleep at all. Now, my state-room opened into the main cabin, or
dining-room, as did those of all the single men on board. Wyatt's three
rooms were in the after-cabin, which was separated from the main one by
a slight sliding door, never locked even at night. As we were almost
constantly
on a wind, and the breeze was not a little stiff, the ship heeled to
leeward
very considerably; and whenever her starboard side was to leeward, the
sliding door between the cabins slid open, and so remained, nobody
taking
the trouble to get up and shut it. But my berth was in such a position,
that when my own state-room door was open, as well as the sliding door
in question, (and my own door was always open on account of the
heat,) I
could see into the after[[-]]cabin quite distinctly, and just at that
portion
of it, too, where were situated the state-rooms of Mr. Wyatt. Well,
during
two nights (not consecutive) while I lay awake, I clearly saw
Mrs. W.,
about eleven o'clock upon each night, steal cautiously from the
state-room
of Mr. W., and enter the extra room, where she remained until day break
[[daybreak]],
when she was called by her husband and went back. That they were
virtually
separated was clear. They had separate apartments — no doubt in
contemplation
of a more permanent divorce; and here, after all, I thought, was the
mystery
of the extra state-room. There was another circumstance, too, which
interested me
much.
During
the two wakeful nights in question, and immediately after the
disappearance
of Mrs. Wyatt into the extra state-room, I was attracted by certain
singular,
cautious, subdued noises in that of her husband. After listening to
them
for some time, with thoughtful attention, I at length succeeded
perfectly
in translating their import. They were sounds occasioned by the artist
in prying open the oblong box, by means of a chisel and mallet — the
latter
being apparently muffled, or deadened, by some soft woollen or cotton
substance
in which its head was enveloped. In this manner I fancied I could distinguish the
precise
moment [page 358:] when
he fairly disengaged the lid — also, that I could determine when he
removed
it altogether, and when he deposited it upon the lower berth in his
room;
this latter point I knew, for example, by certain slight taps which the
lid made in striking against the wooden edges of the berth, as he
endeavored
to lay it down very gently — there being no room for it on the
floor.
After this there was a dead stillness, and I heard nothing more, upon
either
occasion, until nearly daybreak; unless, perhaps, I may mention a low
sobbing,
or murmuring sound, so very much suppressed as to be nearly inaudible —
if, indeed, the whole of this latter noise were not rather produced by
my own imagination. I say it seemed to resemble sobbing or
sighing —
but,
of course, it could not have been either. I rather think it was a
ringing
in my own ears. Mr. Wyatt, no doubt, according to custom, was merely
giving
the rein to one of his hobbies — indulging in one of his fits of
artistic
enthusiasm. He had opened his oblong box, in order to feast his eyes on
the pictorial treasure within. There was nothing in this however, to
make
him sob. I repeat, therefore, that it must have been simply a
freak of
my own fancy, distempered by good Captain Hardy's green tea. Just
before
dawn, on each of the two nights of which I speak, I distinctly heard
Mr.
Wyatt replace the lid upon the oblong box, and force the nails into
their
old places, by means of the muffled mallet. Having done this, he issued
from his state-room, fully dressed, and proceeded to call Mrs. W. from
hers. We had been at sea seven days, and were now off Cape
Hatteras, when
there came a tremendously heavy blow from the southwest. We were, in a
measure, prepared for it, however, as the weather had been holding out
threats for some time. Everything was made snug, alow and aloft; and
as
the wind steadily freshened, we lay to, at length, under spanker and
foretopsail,
both double-reefed. In this trim, we rode safely enough for forty-eight
hours — the ship
proving herself an excellent sea[[-]]boat, in many respects, and
shipping no
water of any consequence. At the end of this period, however, the gale
had freshened into a hurricane, and our after-sail split into
ribbons,
bringing us so much in the trough of the water that we shipped several
prodigious seas, one immediately after the other. By this accident we
lost
three men overboard, [page 359:] with the caboose, and nearly
the whole of the
larboard
bulwarks. Scarcely had we recovered our senses, before the foretopsail
went into shreds, when we got up a storm stay-sail, and with this did
pretty well for some hours, the ship heading the sea much more steadily
than before. The gale still held on, however, and we saw no signs
of
its abating.
The rigging was found to be ill-fitted, and greatly strained; and on
the
third day of the blow, about five in the afternoon, our mizzen-mast, in
a heavy lurch to windward, went by the board. For an hour or more, we
tried
in vain to get rid of it, on account of the prodigious rolling of the
ship;
and, before we had succeeded, the carpenter came aft and announced four
feet of water in the hold. To add to our dilemma, we found the pumps
choked
and nearly useless. All was now confusion and despair — but an effort
was
made to
lighten
the ship by throwing overboard as much of her cargo as could be
reached,
and by cutting away the two masts that remained. This we at last
accomplished — but we were still unable to do anything at the pumps;
and, in the
meantime,
the leak gained on us very fast. At sundown, the gale had sensibly diminished in
violence, and, as the
sea went down with it, we still entertained faint hopes of saving
ourselves
in the boats. At eight, P. M., the clouds broke away to windward, and
we
had the advantage of a full moon — a piece of good fortune which
served
wonderfully to cheer our drooping spirits. After incredible labor we succeeded, at length, in
getting the
long-boat
over the side without material accident, and into this we crowded the
whole
of the crew and most of the passengers. This party made off
immediately,
and, after undergoing much suffering, finally arrived, in safety, at
Ocracoke
Inlet, on the third day after the wreck. Fourteen passengers, with the Captain, remained on
board, resolving
to trust their fortunes to the jolly-boat at the stern. We lowered it
without
difficulty, although it was only by a miracle that we prevented it from
swamping as it touched the water. It contained, when afloat, the
captain
and his wife, Mr. Wyatt and party, a Mexican officer, wife, four
children,
and myself, with a negro valet. [page 360:]We had no room, of course, for anything except a
few
positively
necessary
instruments, some provisions, and the clothes upon our backs. No one
had
thought of even attempting to save anything more. What must have been
the astonishment of all then, when having proceeded a few fathoms from
the ship, Mr. Wyatt stood up in the stern-sheets, and coolly demanded
of
Captain Hardy that the boat should be put back for the purpose of
taking
in his oblong box! "Sit down, Mr. Wyatt," replied the captain, somewhat
sternly; "you
will
capsize us if you do not sit quite still. Our gunwale is almost in the
water now." "The box!" vociferated Mr. Wyatt, still standing —
"the
box, I say!
Captain Hardy, you cannot, you will not refuse me. Its weight
will be
but
a trifle — it is nothing — mere nothing. By the mother who bore you —
for the love of Heaven — by your hope of salvation, I implore
you to
put
back for the box!" The captain, for a moment, seemed touched by the
earnest
appeal of
the
artist, but he regained his stern composure, and merely said —"Mr. Wyatt, you are mad. I cannot listen to
you. Sit
down, I say, or
you will swamp the boat. Stay — hold him — seize him! — he is about
to spring overboard! There — I knew it — he is over!" As the captain said this, Mr. Wyatt, in fact, sprang
from the boat,
and, as we were yet in the lee of the wreck, succeeded, by almost
superhuman
exertion, in getting hold of a rope which hung from the fore-chains. In
another moment he was on board, and rushing frantically down into the
cabin. In the meantime, we had been swept astern of the
ship,
and being
quite
out of her lee, were at the mercy of the tremendous sea which was still
running. We made a determined effort to put back, but our little boat
was
like a feather in the breath of the tempest. We saw at a glance that
the
doom of the unfortunate artist was sealed. As our distance from the wreck rapidly increased,
the
madman (for as
such only could we regard him) was seen to emerge from the
companion-way, up which by dint of a strength that appeared gigantic,
he dragged,
bodily,
the oblong box. While we gazed [page361:] in the extremity of
astonishment, he
passed,
rapidly, several turns of a three-inch rope, first around the box and
then
around his body. In another instant both body and box were in the sea —
disappearing suddenly, at once and forever. We lingered awhile sadly upon our oars, with our
eyes
riveted upon
the
spot. At length we pulled away. The silence remained unbroken for an
hour.
Finally, I hazarded a remark. "Did you observe, Captain, how suddenly they sank?
Was
not that an
exceedingly
singular thing? I confess that I entertained some feeble hope of his
final
deliverance, when I saw him lash himself to the box, and commit himself
to the sea." "They sank as a matter of course," replied the
Captain,
"and that
like
a shot. They will soon rise again, however — but not till the salt
melts." "The salt!" I ejaculated. "Hush!" said the Captain, pointing to the wife and
sisters of the
deceased.
"We must talk of these things at some more appropriate time." ——
We suffered much, and made a narrow escape; but
fortune
befriended us,
as well as our mates in the long[[-]]boat. We landed, in fine, more
dead
than
alive, after four days of intense distress, upon the beach opposite
Roanoke
Island. We remained here a week, were not ill-treated by the wreckers,
and at length obtained a passage to New York. About a month after the loss of the "Independence,"
I
happened to
meet
Captain Hardy in Broadway. Our conversation turned, naturally, upon the
disaster, and especially upon the sad fate of poor Wyatt. I thus
learned
the following particulars. The artist had engaged passage for himself, wife,
two
sisters and a
servant. His wife was, indeed, as she had been represented, a most
lovely,
and most accomplished woman. On the morning of the fourteenth of June,
(the
day in which I first visited the ship,) the lady suddenly sickened and
died. The young husband was frantic with grief — but circumstances
imperatively
forbade the deferring his voyage to New York. It was necessary to take
to her mother the corpse of his adored wife, and on the other hand,
the
universal prejudice which would prevent his doing so openly, [page
362:] was well
known.
Nine-tenths of the passengers would have abandoned the ship rather than
take passage with a dead body. In this dilemma, Captain Hardy arranged that the
corpse,
being first
partially embalmed, and packed, with a large quantity of salt, in a box
of suitable dimensions, should be conveyed on board as merchandise.
Nothing
was to be said of the lady's decease; and, as it was well understood
that
Mr. Wyatt had engaged passage for his wife, it became necessary that
some
person should personate her during the voyage. This the deceased's
lady's-maid
was easily prevailed on to do. The extra state-room, originally engaged
for this girl, during her mistress' life, was now merely retained. In
this
state-room the pseudo[[-]]wife slept, of course, every night. In the
day-time
she performed, to the best of her ability, the part of her mistress —
whose person, it had been carefully ascertained, was unknown to any of
the passengers on board. My own mistake arose, naturally enough, through too
careless, too
inquisitive,
and too impulsive a temperament. But of late, it is a rare thing that I
sleep soundly at night. There is a countenance which haunts me, turn as
I will. There is an hysterical laugh which will forever ring within my
ears. |
||