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Updated: May 17, 2025
We could do with a few more bold lads, since death has been something busy of late; and he seems to have the grit in him one looks for in those who join with us. Moreover, he has the dark eyes, and would soon have the swarth skin, that distinguish our merry men all. "How now, mother! Thou hast eyes for none but the lad! Why lookst thou at him so?"
The poetess whom Holland to-day most delights to honour is Helena Lapidoth Swarth, whose works increase in worth and beauty every year. Her command of the Dutch language and her power of wresting from it literary resources which are unattainable by any other writer have made her the admiration of all critics of penetration.
For, without an instant's delay or the least hesitancy of movement, the great door was pushed suddenly inward and a man stepped into the room. A sturdy fellow he was, swarth of skin and full whiskered. His hair was black and coarse and grown to his shoulders. His eyes were black as night, largely orbed under heavy brows, not lacking a certain wicked splendor.
Far from home, with a general cargo, this ancient trader had been taken in a fog by Captain Swarth and his men an hour before their own well-found vessel had sunk alongside which gave them just time to hoist over guns and ammunition.
So they took in the tarpaulin and set the foretopmast-staysail again, and, with the best two helmsmen at the wheel, they sped before the tempest for four hours, during which there was no increase of the wind and no change in the barometer; it still remained at its lowest reading. "Keep the wind as much on the port quarter as you dare," ordered Swarth.
Captain Swarth descended the stairs, silenced the steward with a blow, felt of the clock hands, secured his pistols, and returned to the deck. "We're at sea," he said. "Two hands to the wheel. Loose and set the foretopmast-staysails and the foretopsail. Staysail first. Let a man stay in the slings to square the yard by the feel as it goes up." "What for?" they answered complainingly.
The mate could not tell; but a voice out of the night, barely distinguishable above the shrieking wind, answered him. "You all-fired fool don't you know any more than to heave to in the Gulf Stream?" Then there was the faintest disturbance in the sounds of the sea, indicating the rushing by of a large craft. "What!" roared Swarth. "The Gulf Stream? I've lost my reckoning. Where am I? Ship ahoy!
He secured another ensign American from the flag-locker in the booby-hatch, mounted the rail, and hoisted it, union down, in place of the other. Then he dropped to the deck and looked into the glaring left eye and pepper-box pistol of Captain Swarth, who had descended on him. "Hands up, Tom Plate, over your head quick, or I'll blow your brains out!" White in the face and open-mouthed, Tom obeyed.
Nobody can see it. We're all blind." "Come down here, Bill," called the mate from below. As Captain Swarth felt his way down the stairs a sudden shock stilled the vibrations caused by the dragging anchor, and he knew that the chain had parted. "Stand by on deck, Angel; we're adrift," he said. "It's darker than ten thousand black cats. What's the matter with you?" "Can you see the light, Bill?
I can't see. I lit the lantern and burned my fingers; but I can't see the light. I'm blind." The steward's voice ended in a howl. "Shut up, you blasted fool," answered Captain Swarth; "get down there and light up." "Where's that light?" came the mate's voice in a yell from amidships. "Shank-painter's jammed, Bill. Can't do a thing without a light." "Come aft here and get it. Steward's drunk."
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