The Man Who Laughs, Book III [pp. 97-105]

ENTE.ED, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1869, by D. APPLETON & CO., in the Clerks Offic of the District Court f the United States for the Southern District of New York
No. 4.-WVITHa SUPPLIEMENT.] SATURDAY, APRIL 24, 1869. [P1ICE TEN CENTS.
"THE MAN WHO LAUGHS;*
OR,
BY THE KING'S COMMAND.
BY VICTOR TH-UGO.
Ix.
A CHARGE CONFIDED TO THE FURIOUS SEA.
TilE master of the bark, who was at the tiller, broke out into
a laugh. A bell!' That's good. We are driving to larboard.
What does this bell prove? That we have land on our right hand.
The firm and measured voice of the doctor answered:
You have not got land a-starboard.
But, yes! cried the master.
-No.
-But this bell sounds from ashore.
-This bell, said the doctor, sounds from the sea.
There was a shudder among these hardy men. The haggard
faces of two women appeared in the square of the cabin-hatchway, like two evil spirits evoked. The doctor made a step, and
his tall, dark form detached itself from the mast. They heard
the bell tolling in the depth of the night.
The doctor resumed:
There is in the middle of the sea, half-way between Portland and the Channel Islands, a buoy, placed there to give
warning. This buoy is moored with chains to the bottom, and
floats on a level with the water. On this buoy an iron trestle
is fixed, and at its intersection a bell is hung. In heavy
weather, the sea being shaken, shakes the buoy, and the bell
rings. That bell is the one you hear.
The doctor let a very heavy gust sweep by, waited till the
sound of the bell was heard over all, and continued:
-To hear this bell in a storm, when the whirlwind blows,
is to be lost. Why? Observe: if you hear the sound of the
bell, it is the wind that brings it to you. Now the wind comes
from the west, and the breakers of Aurigny lie eastward. You
can only hear the bell, because you are between the buoy and
the breakers. It is on these breakers that the wind drives you.
You are on the wrong side of the buoy. If you were on the
right side, you would have ample sea-room, in a safe course,
and you would not hear the bell. The wind would not bring
you the sound. You would pass near the buoy, without knowing that it is there. We are out of our course. The bell-it
is shipwreck sounding the tocsin. Now, make the best of it!
* Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1869, by D. APPLETON & CO., in the Clerk's
Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York.
The bell, while the doctor was speaking, lowered in tone
by a lull of the blasts, sounded slowly, stroke after stroke; and
this intermittent tinkling seemed to be suggested by the old man's
words. It might have been termed the death-bell of the deep.
Breathless, they all listened; now to the voice, now to the bell.
X.
STORM IS THE GREAT SAVAGE.
NEVERTHELESS, the master had seized his speaking-trumpet: Cargate todo, hombres! Let fly the sheets! Rowse in
upon your down-haul! Lower away the ties and brails of your
courses! Hug up to the west! Let's take more sea-room!
Head for the buoy! Head for the bell! There's sea-room
away there! All isn't over!
- Try it, said the doctor.
Let it be noted in passing, that this sounding-buoy, a sort of
sea-bell, was suppressed in 1802. Very old sailors remember
having heard it. It gave warning, but somewhat late.
The master's order was obeyed. The LanguLedocian made a
third sailor. Every one helped. They did better than brailing; they furled. They tautened all the gaskets, they knotted
the reef-points and bowlines; they put horse-irons on the
stoops, which might thus serve as midship shrouds; they
fished the mast; they nailed fast the port-lids, which is a
way of walling-in the vessel. The manceuvre, although executed with the yards peaked, was none the less successful.
The ork, in fact, was brought down to a complete state of
readiness. But in proportion as the craft, making all snug,
grew as it were smaller, the turning upside down of air and
water increased upon her. The height of the danger attained
almost polar dimensions.
The tempest, like an executioner who is hurried, took to
quartering the vessel. There was, in the twinkling of an eye,
a fearful wrenching of every thing, the topsails blown oft of
the bolt-ropes, the bulwarks cut down, the chess-trees thrown
out of joint, the shrouds tangled in a heap, the mast sprung,
all the hubbub of disaster flying into pieces. The bigger ropes
parted, although they had only four fathoms' clinch.
The magnetic tension, incidental to snow-storms, aided the
parting of the cordage. It broke, as much from the effects of
this, as from the wind. Chains were jerked out of their pulleys
and of no more use. The bows forward, and the quarters aft,
bent under the enormous pressure. One wave carried away
the compass, with the binnacle. Another carried away the
boat, slung like a portmanteau under the bowsprit, after
the strange Asturian fashion. Another carried away the spritsail yard. Another carried away the image of Our Lady at
the prow, together with the fire-cage.