VARNEY, THE VAMPYRE; OR, THE FEAST OF BLOOD. CHAPTER CLVII. [sic] [Chapter 165] THE FISHERMEN. -- THE DESPAIRING CRY OF THE MARINERS. -- THE BREAKERS FROM THE SHORE. On shore the day wore away; the wind blew furiously, and the oceans roared to such an extent, that no other sound was audible; and the fishermen who lived upon the coast kept within doors, knowing that nothing could be done out of doors on such a day; and each one seated by the fire, began to recount some wonderful tale of death and shipwreck, or of happy escapes from the boiling sea, until noon had long since passed, and the turn of the day showed a decided approach towards evening; but no abatement of the tempest. The principal fisherman on the coast, a man whose poverty was less, rather than his wealth was greater than his fellows, sat by his fireside, with one or two others of his class seated with him. "I never saw a worse storm," said one of them. "I have," said Massallo, the fisherman. "You have?" said one of his comrades, in his turn. "I have, I can promise you-- one that blew me upon this coast, where I have ever since remained, and intend to remain." "I have heard you say so; but I never heard the particulars of that story; it must have been many years ago, I fancy." "Yes, it must have been fifteen years ago," said Massallo, speaking; "fifteen years ago at the very least, if not more than that." "Well, I think it must be quite that time; for my old man has been dead these fourteen years, and he remembered you very well, and used to speak of you; and, as I thought, you must have known him more than a year." "Aye, two." "Well, it must, then, have been more than sixteen years ago since you came here." "I dare say it was; very nearly seventeen years ago, now I come to think of it. The storm, if possible, blew harder, and the waves beat higher than they do now; the rain was heavier than it rains now; and, in addition to all, the thunder and lightning were tremendous, not a sound could be distinguished. The speaking-trumpet was useless-- no sound issued from it-- all was confusion and danger." "It must have been a rare time, certainly." "It was a time for devils to be abroad, and not for men; but we were compelled to pump, and cut away the wreck. Why, you see, we had been chased by the Algerines, and we had got nearer to the land than we would have gone, but for the fact that we desired to escape from a superior and formidable enemy, who knew no mercy. "Yes, the Algerines, if they had spared us, would have made slaves of us for our lives, and there would have been little wisdom in being caught by them, if we could help it." "I should imagine no one would ever do it." "Well, that was the cause of our being in shore nearer than we ought; but we noticed that the Algerine sheered off at a moment when there was but little chance of our escaping him; but we could not tell the reason; but we concluded that he saw some danger, of which we were at that moment ignorant. "Well, we had not time to haul out a little before we were surprised by a tremendous clap of thunder and lightning, as vivid as if it had been brought from all quarters of the world, and loosened at one and the same moment." "It must have added to your terrors." "It was the main thing that wrecked us on this coast." "What, the lightning! why, I suppose it struck you, then?" "Yes; we could have held off, or run the vessel bump ashore-- almost dry-- but we lost all commnad over her, when the lighting shivered our mast to atoms and left the stump burning in the vessel; then, more than that, it killed two of our best hands at that moment, and most of us were knocked up and unable to work at the pumps; but it was of no use; we came ashore, crash went the vessel, and we were all in the boiling sea in an instant, and a wave or two more threw me on the beach, without any fatal injury, and I scrambled up out of their reach." "And then you remained by us." "Yes; I did not find means to return whence I came for some years." "Perhaps you had reason." "I had; I was a rival for a girl; I was then endeavouring to win money; I had entrusted some money in the vessel-- all I had; and with her I lost all, and with that all I lost even hope, and never returned to my native home." "Did the girl love you?" "She liked me well enough to have me, if her relations would consent, but they would not, unless they saw I had more money than I could obtain; and, in default of that, they would marry her to another, who had more money than I; and I only obtained time to get money by the girl's intercession; but I was baulked." "Well, that was bad; but I suppose you were well assured that you would be rejected if you had not money." "I was, by her family." "And herself----" "That was not so sure; and yet they had great influence upon her; but I could not have the courage to go back and ask her to wed poverty; a man without even the means of purchasing a wedding garment." "You did right, neighbour." "I did, and I knew it," replied the fisherman, bitterly. "But you have prospered since; and you have been happy, if I mistake not." "Yes, I have been prosperous, and tolerably happy; it is wonderful how men adapt themselves to the circumstances around them." "They do; if they did not, how insupportable would life be." "You are right; I should have been miserable for ever; I should never have recovered my feelings, and should never have been what I am now." "The storm seems as furious as ever, neighbour," observed one of the fishermen, after a long pause, for they were meditating upon what they had heard, "and I think we shall have but a very rough night of it." "Good; we shall have a night of it." "I think," said another, "I must be getting near my own fireside by this time; they will expect me home, or think some accident has happened." "And I will step out to see how the weather looks before it grows dark; there appears no change." "Hark! what is that?" There was a moment's pause, and in about a minute, in one of the lulls of the wind, they thought they heard a gun; but the storm increased so as to leave them in great doubt of what it was. "It was a gun, I think," said the fisherman. "Such sounds as those I have heard before; but 'tis hard to tell them form the sounds of the elements." "We can tell when we get outside, I dare say; but the wind sweeps all sounds past so rapidly that it is scarcely possible to tell even there; but there is yet light to see, and as the sun sets in the horizon, we have a chance of seeing a sail if there be one." "We have, but not of helping her." "True; there is no help for those on board." "May Heaven have mercy upon the poor mariners," said the fisherman's wife. "It is hard times with them now. Life is dear to all, and they will cling to it. Do what you can for the poor beings." "There's no doing anything," said the fisherman, gloomily. "Neither boat nor ship can ride through such a sea, on the ocean or at anchor." "But they may be cast ashore, and they may not be quite dead, you know; instant aid might avail much, when even they had ceased to feel." "We will not fail in that particular. We are going down to the beach now, and shall not neglect any means that are in our power, at all events; more we cannot do, but that much shall be done, and I hope it may be of some service." "Hark! the same sound again," said his companion. "I did not hear it." "Nor I." "Come on; we shall now know better in the open air," said the fisherman, as he wrapped himself up in a large rough coat, and pulled his hat over his eyes. "The rain is as heavy as ever, and I think it will soon fill the sea to overflowing." The fisherman left the hut and proceeded towards the beach; at least, they did not go down, for the waves ran so high that they beat a long way inland -- more so than they had ever done before. "What do you think of our storm?" "It is a complete tempest-- furious; and the wind blows the waves towards the shore, and that is the cause why we have the sea so high; and should the wind continue in that quarter for a day or two, even our cottages will be in some danger." "I dare say they would; but it would be without example if the winds were to continue in that quarter for so long a time, blowing a complete hurricane without any intermission. I should almost think the world about to end." "Do you see any vessel out in the horizon?" inquired one of the fishermen. "Not I." "But I can hear the gun." There came booming across the waters the sound of a piece of artillery. There was no mistaking it -- it was plain and evident to all that there was a vessel in distress somewhere, but they could not exactly tell where. Again the sound reached them on the wind, accompanied by the roar of the elements; but it was enough to distinguish it by from the rest of those awful sounds, which spoke plainly to them of the dreadful fate of the unfortunate men who were on board the vessel in distress. "Can you make them out?" inquired one of the fishermen of his companion. "I cannot see her, though I hear the guns, and can almost imagine her whereabouts." "No, I can't see her," replied the man spoken to. "I can though," replied the first fisherman; "she lies close in shore, not a mile out, nor yet that. I think she's dismasted." "I see her now, myself. I looked about in the horizon, above her there. She labours much, and the sea breaks over her." "She has lost her rudder, I have no doubt, and is drifting right in shore. What will become of them, I cannot well think." "It is too easy to think." "Do you imagine that one man among the whole crew can be saved?" "Hardly, on such a shore as this, with rocks on all sides; every man that is swept overboard will be dashed to pieces, and disabled, even if lashed to spars." "You are right; for if one man survives this wreck, it will be a miracle, and I can hardly believe it to be possible." They now watched the course of the vessel. The guns had ceased to fire, and daylight was fast departing; and though she came nearer, yet she became less distinct; but still they could see her, and note her progress well through the surf that rose up around her as it dashed against the labouring vessel's side. "She strikes," cried one of the men; "that shivering action is her first shock." "Yes," said a companion. "Poor wretches, they have but a short time now. She will go to pieces on those rocks as sure as they are there." "May she not hold together?" "No; see, she heaves up again! No; as there are but bare rocks under her, and she will not settle into any place, but continue beating and bumping upon them until she will break and split to shivers, not a timber can hold." "Too true-- too true," said his companion. The fishermen now bent their eyes upon the ocean, where this exciting scene was going on, but they spoke not. It was growing yet darker, and yet they gazed stedfastly, heedless of the beating and overwhelming rain; but they could hardly see the vessel, until at length a loud shriek came to them, borne to them upon the hoarse winds, and heard distinctly above the roaring of the ocean. The fisherman knit his brows, and compressed his lips, as he heard the sounds, and then, clasping his hands, he said, -- "Heaven have mercy on them! for I fear the sea will have none. It's all over, and they are dead and dying. Follow me!" -+- Next Time: The One Body Washed Ashore. -- The First Request. -- The Shipwrecked Stranger. +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+ | This Varney the Vampyre e-text was entered by members of the | | Science Fiction Round Table #1 (SFRT1) on the Genie online | | service. | | The Varney Project, a reincarnation of this "penny dreadful" bit | | of fiction, was begun in November of 1993 by James Macdonald and | | should take about four years for re-serialization. | | These chapters are being posted once a week to the Round Table | | Bulletin Board and are also being placed in the Round Table File | | Library. | | For further information concerning Varney e-texts, please send | | email to: | | h.liu@juno.com | +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+ ============================================================================== The Varney Project Chapter 165 Ver 1.00 02/23/1997 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ General notes on this chapter Source: H.Liu entry from the Arno edition, 1970, text is reprint of 1847 edition Drop capital: No Figures in source: 0 Page numbers in source: 700-702 Sections: 1 Approximate number of characters: Number of paragraphs: Comments: Chapter appears mis-numbered as CLVII. The fishermen, their boats being secured on shore, gather together and tell tales of storms and close-calls. While reminiscing, and commenting on the current storm, the sounds of the guns fired by the ship in distress is heard, and the fishermen go outside. There they listen and watch, but resign themselves to the fact that if there is a ship in the storm there is little they can do, and the poor seamen are doomed. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Modification History Version Date Who What changes made -------- -------- ------------- ---------------------------------- 1.00 02/23/1997 H.Liu Initial gold version, rough proof read. ==================================End of File=================================