“At the piping of all hands,
When the judgment signal’s spread—
When the islands and the land,
And the seas give up their dead,
And the south and the north shall come;
When the sinner is dismayed,
And the just man is afraid,
Then heaven be thy aid,
Poor Tom.”
Brainard.
The people had now a cessation from their toil.
Of all the labour known to sea-faring men, that of
pumping is usually thought to be the most severe.
Those who work at it have to be relieved every minute,
and it is only by having gangs to succeed each other,
that the duty can be done at all with anything like
steadiness. In the present instance, it is true,
that the people of the Swash were sustained by the
love of gold, but glad enough were they when Mulford
called out to them to “knock off, and turn in
for the night.” It was high time this summons
should be made, for not only were the people excessively
wearied, but the customary hours of labour were so
far spent, that the light of the moon had some time
before begun to blend with the little left by the parting
sun. Glad enough were all hands to quit the toil;
and two minutes were scarcely elapsed ere most of
the crew had thrown themselves down, and were buried
in deep sleep. Even Spike and Mulford took the
rest they needed, the cook alone being left to look
out for the changes in the weather. In a word,
everybody but this idler was exhausted with pumping
and bailing, and even gold had lost its power to charm,
until nature was recruited by rest.
The excitement produced by the scenes through which
they had so lately passed, caused the females to sleep
soundly, too. The death-like stillness which
pervaded the vessel contributed to their rest, and
Rose never woke, from the first few minutes after her
head was on her pillow, until near four in the morning.
The deep quiet seemed ominous to one who had so lately
witnessed the calm which precedes the tornado, and
she arose. In that low latitude and warm season,
few clothes were necessary, and our heroine was on
deck in a very few minutes. Here she found the
same grave-like sleep pervading everything. There
was not a breath of air, and the ocean seemed to be
in one of its profoundest slumbers. The hard-breathing
of Spike could be heard through the open windows of
his state-room, and this was positively the only sound
that was audible. The common men, who lay scattered
about the decks, more especially from the mainmast
forward, seemed to be so many logs, and from Mulford
no breathing was heard.
