Merry had often
beheld the commanding severity of the lieutenant's manner in moments of
danger, with deep respect; he had been drawn towards him by kindness and
affection, in times of gayety and recklessness: but he now sat for many
minutes profoundly silent, regarding his officer with sensations that
were nearly allied to awe. The struggle with himself was long and severe
in the bosom of Barnstable; but, at length, the calm of relieved
passions succeeded to his emotion. When he arose from the rock, and
removed his hands from his features, his eye was hard and proud, his
brow lightly contracted, and he spoke in a voice so harsh, that it
startled his companion:
"Come, sir; why are we here and idle? are not yon poor fellows looking
up to us for advice and orders how to proceed in this exigency? Away,
away, Mr. Merry; it is not a time to be drawing figures, in the sand
with your dirk; the flood-tide will soon be in, and we may be glad to
hide our heads in some cavern among these rocks. Let us be stirring,
sir, while we have the sun, and muster enough food and arms to keep life
in us, and our enemies off us, until we can once more get afloat."
The wondering boy, whose experience had not yet taught him to appreciate
the reaction of the passions, started at this unexpected summons to his
duty, and followed Barnstable towards the group of distant seamen. The
lieutenant, who was instantly conscious how far pride had rendered him
unjust, soon moderated his long strides, and continued in milder tones,
which were quickly converted into his usual frank communications, though
they still remained tinged with a melancholy, that time only could
entirely remove:
"We have been unlucky, Mr.
Pages:
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392