Some years ago, I engaged passage from Charleston,
S. C, to the city of New York, in the fine packet-ship "Independence,"
Captain Hardy. We were to sail on the fifteenth of the month (June),
weather permitting; and on the fourteenth, I went on board to arrange
some matters in my stateroom.
I found that we were to have a great many passengers, including a more
than usual number of ladies. On the list were several of my
acquaintances, and among other names, I was rejoiced to see that of Mr.
Cornelius Wyatt, a young artist, for whom I entertained feelings of warm
friendship. He had been with me a fellow-student at C---- University,
where we were very much together. He had the ordinary temperament of
genius, and was a compound of misanthropy, sensibility, and enthusiasm.
To these qualities he united the warmest and truest heart which ever
beat in a human bosom.
I observed that his name was carded upon THREE state-rooms; and, upon
again referring to the list of passengers, I found that he had engaged
passage for himself, wife, and two sisters--his own. The state-rooms
were sufficiently roomy, and each had two berths, one above the other.
These berths, to be sure, were so exceedingly narrow as to be
insufficient for more than one person; still, I could not comprehend why
there were THREE staterooms for these four persons. I was, just at that
epoch, in one of those moody frames of mind which make a man abnormally
inquisitive about trifles: and I confess, with shame, that I busied
myself in a variety of ill- bred and preposterous conjectures about this
matter of the supernumerary stateroom. It was no business of mine, to be
sure, but with none the less pertinacity did I occupy myself in attempts
to resolve the enigma. At last I reached a conclusion which wrought in
me great wonder why I had not arrived at it before. "It is a servant of
course," I said; "what a fool I am, not sooner to have thought of so
obvious a solution!" And then I again repaired to the list--but here I
saw distinctly that NO servant was to come with the party, although, in
fact, it had been the original design to bring one--for the words "and
servant" had been first written and then over-scored. "Oh, extra
baggage, to be sure," I now said to myself--"something he wishes not to
be put in the hold-- something to be kept under his own eye--ah, I have
it--a painting or so--and this is what he has been bargaining about with
Nicolino, the Italian Jew." This idea satisfied me, and I dismissed my
curiosity for the nonce.
Wyatt's two sisters I knew very well, and most amiable and clever girls
they were. His wife he had newly married, and I had never yet seen her.
He had often talked about her in my presence, however, and in his usual
style of enthusiasm. He described her as of surpassing beauty, wit, and
accomplishment. I was, therefore, quite anxious to make her
acquaintance.
On the day in which I visited the ship (the fourteenth), Wyatt and party
were also to visit it--so the captain informed me--and I waited on board
an hour longer than I had designed, in hope of being presented to the
bride, but then an apology came. "Mrs. W. was a little indisposed, and
would decline coming on board until to-morrow, at the hour of sailing."
The morrow having arrived, I was going from my hotel to the wharf, when
Captain Hardy met me and said that, "owing to circumstances" (a stupid
but convenient phrase), "he rather thought the 'Independence' would not
sail for a day or two, and that when all was ready, he would send up and
let me know." This I thought strange, for there was a stiff southerly
breeze; but as "the circumstances" were not forthcoming, although I
pumped for them with much perseverance, I had nothing to do but to
return home and digest my impatience at leisure.
I did not receive the expected message from the captain for nearly a
week. It came at length, however, and I immediately went on board. The
ship was crowded with passengers, and every thing was in the bustle
attendant upon making sail. Wyatt's party arrived in about ten minutes
after myself. There were the two sisters, the bride, and the artist--the
latter in one of his customary fits of moody misanthropy. I was too well
used to these, however, to pay them any special attention. He did not
even introduce me to his wife;--this courtesy devolving, per force, upon
his sister Marian-- a very sweet and intelligent girl, who, in a few
hurried words, made us acquainted.
Mrs. Wyatt had been closely veiled; and when she raised her veil, in
acknowledging my bow, I confess that I was very profoundly astonished. I
should have been much more so, however, had not long experience advised
me not to trust, with too implicit a reliance, the enthusiastic
descriptions of my friend, the artist, when indulging in comments upon
the loveliness of woman. When beauty was the theme, I well knew with
what facility he soared into the regions of the purely ideal.
The truth is, I could not help regarding Mrs. Wyatt as a decidedly
plain-looking woman. If not positively ugly, she was not, I think, very
far from it. She was dressed, however, in exquisite taste-- and then I
had no doubt that she had captivated my friend's heart by the more
enduring graces of the intellect and soul. She said very few words, and
passed at once into her state-room with Mr. W.
My old inquisitiveness now returned. There was NO servant--THAT was a
settled point. I looked, therefore, for the extra baggage. After some
delay, a cart arrived at the wharf, with an oblong pine box, which was
every thing that seemed to be expected. Immediately upon its arrival we
made sail, and in a short time were safely over the bar and standing out
to sea.
The box in question was, as I say, oblong. It was about six feet in
length by two and a half in breadth; I observed it attentively, and like
to be precise. Now this shape was PECULIAR; and no sooner had I seen it,
than I took credit to myself for the accuracy of my guessing. I had
reached the conclusion, it will be remembered, that the extra baggage of
my friend, the artist, would prove to be pictures, or at least a
picture; for I knew he had been for several weeks in conference with
Nicolino:--and now here was a box, which, from its shape, COULD possibly
contain nothing in the world but a copy of Leonardo's "Last Supper;" and
a copy of this very "Last Supper," done by Rubini the younger, at
Florence, I had known, for some time, to be in the possession of
Nicolino. This point, therefore, I considered as sufficiently settled. I
chuckled excessively when I thought of my acumen. It was the first time
I had ever known Wyatt to keep from me any of his artistical secrets;
but here he evidently intended to steal a march upon me, and smuggle a
fine picture to New York, under my very nose; expecting me to know
nothing of the matter. I resolved to quiz him WELL, now and hereafter.
One thing, however, annoyed me not a little. The box did NOT go into the
extra stateroom. It was deposited in Wyatt's own; and there, too, it
remained, occupying very nearly the whole of the floor--no doubt to the
exceeding discomfort of the artist and his wife;--this the more
especially as the tar or paint with which it was lettered in sprawling
capitals, emitted a strong, disagreeable, and, to my fancy, a peculiarly
disgusting odor. On the lid were painted the words--"Mrs. Adelaide
Curtis, Albany, New York. Charge of Cornelius Wyatt, Esq. This side up.
To be handled with care."
Now, I was aware that Mrs. Adelaide Curtis, of Albany, was the artist's
wife's mother,--but then I looked upon the whole address as a
mystification, intended especially for myself. I made up my mind, of
course, that the box and contents would never get farther north than the
studio of my misanthropic friend, in Chambers Street, New York.
For the first three or four days we had fine weather, although the wind
was dead ahead; having chopped round to the northward, immediately upon
our losing sight of the coast. The passengers were, consequently, in
high spirits and disposed to be social. I MUST except, however, Wyatt
and his sisters, who behaved stiffly, and, I could not help thinking,
uncourteously to the rest of the party. Wyatt's conduct I did not so
much regard. He was gloomy, even beyond his usual habit--in fact he was
MOROSE--but in him I was prepared for eccentricity. For the sisters,
however, I could make no excuse. They secluded themselves in their
staterooms during the greater part of the passage, and absolutely
refused, although I repeatedly urged them, to hold communication with
any person on board.
Mrs. Wyatt herself was far more agreeable. That is to say, she was
CHATTY; and to be chatty is no slight recommendation at sea. She became
EXCESSIVELY intimate with most of the ladies; and, to my profound
astonishment, evinced no equivocal disposition to coquet with the men.
She amused us all very much. I say "amused"--and scarcely know how to
explain myself. The truth is, I soon found that Mrs. W. was far oftener
laughed AT than WITH. The gentlemen said little about her; but the
ladies, in a little while, pronounced her "a good-hearted thing, rather
indifferent looking, totally uneducated, and decidedly vulgar." The
great wonder was, how Wyatt had been entrapped into such a match. Wealth
was the general solution--but this I knew to be no solution at all; for
Wyatt had told me that she neither brought him a dollar nor had any
expectations from any source whatever. "He had married," he said, "for
love, and for love only; and his bride was far more than worthy of his
love." When I thought of these expressions, on the part of my friend, I
confess that I felt indescribably puzzled. Could it be possible that he
was taking leave of his senses? What else could I think? HE, so refined,
so intellectual, so fastidious, with so exquisite a perception of the
faulty, and so keen an appreciation of the beautiful! To be sure, the
lady seemed especially fond of HIM--particularly so in his absence--when
she made herself ridiculous by frequent quotations of what had been said
by her "beloved husband, Mr. Wyatt." The word "husband" seemed
forever--to use one of her own delicate expressions--forever "on the tip
of her tongue." In the meantime, it was observed by all on board, that
he avoided HER in the most pointed manner, and, for the most part, shut
himself up alone in his state-room, where, in fact, he might have been
said to live altogether, leaving his wife at full liberty to amuse
herself as she thought best, in the public society of the main cabin.
My conclusion, from what I saw and heard, was, that, the artist, by some
unaccountable freak of fate, or perhaps in some fit of enthusiastic and
fanciful passion, had been induced to unite himself with a person
altogether beneath him, and that the natural result, entire and speedy
disgust, had ensued. I pitied him from the bottom of my heart--but could
not, for that reason, quite forgive his incommunicativeness in the
matter of the "Last Supper." For this I resolved to have my revenge.
One day he came upon deck, and, taking his arm as had been my wont, I
sauntered with him backward and forward. His gloom, however (which I
considered quite natural under the circumstances), seemed entirely
unabated. He said little, and that moodily, and with evident effort. I
ventured a jest or two, and he made a sickening attempt at a smile. Poor
fellow!--as I thought of HIS WIFE, I wondered that he could have heart
to put on even the semblance of mirth. At last I ventured a home thrust.
I determined to commence a series of covert insinuations, or innuendoes,
about the oblong box--just to let him perceive, gradually, that I was
NOT altogether the butt, or victim, of his little bit of pleasant
mystification. My first observation was by way of opening a masked
battery. I said something about the "peculiar shape of THAT box--,"and,
as I spoke the words, I smiled knowingly, winked, and touched him gently
with my forefinger in the ribs.
The manner in which Wyatt received this harmless pleasantry convinced
me, at once, that he was mad. At first he stared at me as if he found it
impossible to comprehend the witticism of my remark; but as its point
seemed slowly to make its way into his brain, his eyes, in the same
proportion, seemed protruding from their sockets. Then he grew very
red--then hideously pale--then, as if highly amused with what I had
insinuated, he began a loud and boisterous laugh, which, to my
astonishment, he kept up, with gradually increasing vigor, for ten
minutes or more. In conclusion, he fell flat and heavily upon the deck.
When I ran to uplift him, to all appearance he was DEAD.
I called assistance, and, with much difficulty, we brought him to
himself. Upon reviving he spoke incoherently for some time. At length we
bled him and put him to bed. The next morning he was quite recovered, so
far as regarded his mere bodily health. Of his mind I say nothing, of
course. I avoided him during the rest of the passage, by advice of the
captain, who seemed to coincide with me altogether in my views of his
insanity, but cautioned me to say nothing on this head to any person on
board.
Several circumstances occurred immediately after this fit of Wyatt which
contributed to heighten the curiosity with which I was already
possessed. Among other things, this: I had been nervous-- drank too much
strong green tea, and slept ill at night--in fact, for two nights I
could not be properly said to sleep at all. Now, my state-room opened
into the main cabin, or dining-room, as did those of all the single men
on board. Wyatt's three rooms were in the after-cabin, which was
separated from the main one by a slight sliding door, never locked even
at night. As we were almost constantly on a wind, and the breeze was not
a little stiff, the ship heeled to leeward very considerably; and
whenever her starboard side was to leeward, the sliding door between the
cabins slid open, and so remained, nobody taking the trouble to get up
and shut it. But my berth was in such a position, that when my own
state-room door was open, as well as the sliding door in question (and
my own door was ALWAYS open on account of the heat,) I could see into
the after-cabin quite distinctly, and just at that portion of it, too,
where were situated the state-rooms of Mr. Wyatt. Well, during two
nights (NOT consecutive) while I lay awake, I clearly saw Mrs. W., about
eleven o'clock upon each night, steal cautiously from the state-room of
Mr. W., and enter the extra room, where she remained until daybreak,
when she was called by her husband and went back. That they were
virtually separated was clear. They had separate apartments--no doubt in
contemplation of a more permanent divorce; and here, after all I thought
was the mystery of the extra stateroom.
There was another circumstance, too, which interested me much. During
the two wakeful nights in question, and immediately after the
disappearance of Mrs. Wyatt into the extra stateroom, I was attracted by
certain singular cautious, subdued noises in that of her husband. After
listening to them for some time, with thoughtful attention, I at length
succeeded perfectly in translating their import. They were sounds
occasioned by the artist in prying open the oblong box, by means of a
chisel and mallet--the latter being apparently muffled, or deadened, by
some soft woollen or cotton substance in which its head was enveloped.
In this manner I fancied I could distinguish the precise moment when he
fairly disengaged the lid--also, that I could determine when he removed
it altogether, and when he deposited it upon the lower berth in his
room; this latter point I knew, for example, by certain slight taps
which the lid made in striking against the wooden edges of the berth, as
he endeavored to lay it down VERY gently--there being no room for it on
the floor. After this there was a dead stillness, and I heard nothing
more, upon either occasion, until nearly daybreak; unless, perhaps, I
may mention a low sobbing, or murmuring sound, so very much suppressed
as to be nearly inaudible--if, indeed, the whole of this latter noise
were not rather produced by my own imagination. I say it seemed to
RESEMBLE sobbing or sighing--but, of course, it could not have been
either. I rather think it was a ringing in my own ears. Mr. Wyatt, no
doubt, according to custom, was merely giving the rein to one of his
hobbies--indulging in one of his fits of artistic enthusiasm. He had
opened his oblong box, in order to feast his eyes on the pictorial
treasure within. There was nothing in this, however, to make him SOB. I
repeat, therefore, that it must have been simply a freak of my own
fancy, distempered by good Captain Hardy's green tea. just before dawn,
on each of the two nights of which I speak, I distinctly heard Mr. Wyatt
replace the lid upon the oblong box, and force the nails into their old
places by means of the muffled mallet. Having done this, he issued from
his state- room, fully dressed, and proceeded to call Mrs. W. from hers.
We had been at sea seven days, and were now off Cape Hatteras, when
there came a tremendously heavy blow from the southwest. We were, in a
measure, prepared for it, however, as the weather had been holding out
threats for some time. Every thing was made snug, alow and aloft; and as
the wind steadily freshened, we lay to, at length, under spanker and
foretopsail, both double-reefed.
In this trim we rode safely enough for forty-eight hours--the ship
proving herself an excellent sea-boat in many respects, and shipping no
water of any consequence. At the end of this period, however, the gale
had freshened into a hurricane, and our after-- sail split into ribbons,
bringing us so much in the trough of the water that we shipped several
prodigious seas, one immediately after the other. By this accident we
lost three men overboard with the caboose, and nearly the whole of the
larboard bulwarks. Scarcely had we recovered our senses, before the
foretopsail went into shreds, when we got up a storm staysail and with
this did pretty well for some hours, the ship heading the sea much more
steadily than before.
The gale still held on, however, and we saw no signs of its abating. The
rigging was found to be ill-fitted, and greatly strained; and on the
third day of the blow, about five in the afternoon, our mizzen-mast, in
a heavy lurch to windward, went by the board. For an hour or more, we
tried in vain to get rid of it, on account of the prodigious rolling of
the ship; and, before we had succeeded, the carpenter came aft and
announced four feet of water in the hold. To add to our dilemma, we
found the pumps choked and nearly useless.
All was now confusion and despair--but an effort was made to lighten the
ship by throwing overboard as much of her cargo as could be reached, and
by cutting away the two masts that remained. This we at last
accomplished--but we were still unable to do any thing at the pumps;
and, in the meantime, the leak gained on us very fast.
At sundown, the gale had sensibly diminished in violence, and as the sea
went down with it, we still entertained faint hopes of saving ourselves
in the boats. At eight P. M., the clouds broke away to windward, and we
had the advantage of a full moon--a piece of good fortune which served
wonderfully to cheer our drooping spirits.
After incredible labor we succeeded, at length, in getting the longboat
over the side without material accident, and into this we crowded the
whole of the crew and most of the passengers. This party made off
immediately, and, after undergoing much suffering, finally arrived, in
safety, at Ocracoke Inlet, on the third day after the wreck.
Fourteen passengers, with the captain, remained on board, resolving to
trust their fortunes to the jolly-boat at the stern. We lowered it
without difficulty, although it was only by a miracle that we prevented
it from swamping as it touched the water. It contained, when afloat, the
captain and his wife, Mr. Wyatt and party, a Mexican officer, wife, four
children, and myself, with a negro valet.
We had no room, of course, for any thing except a few positively
necessary instruments, some provisions, and the clothes upon our backs.
No one had thought of even attempting to save any thing more. What must
have been the astonishment of all, then, when having proceeded a few
fathoms from the ship, Mr. Wyatt stood up in the stern-sheets, and
coolly demanded of Captain Hardy that the boat should be put back for
the purpose of taking in his oblong box!
"Sit down, Mr. Wyatt," replied the captain, somewhat sternly, "you will
capsize us if you do not sit quite still. Our gunwhale is almost in the
water now."
"The box!" vociferated Mr. Wyatt, still standing--"the box, I say!
Captain Hardy, you cannot, you will not refuse me. Its weight will be
but a trifle--it is nothing--mere nothing. By the mother who bore
you--for the love of Heaven--by your hope of salvation, I implore you to
put back for the box!"
The captain, for a moment, seemed touched by the earnest appeal of the
artist, but he regained his stern composure, and merely said:
"Mr. Wyatt, you are mad. I cannot listen to you. Sit down, I say, or you
will swamp the boat. Stay--hold him--seize him!--he is about to spring
overboard! There--I knew it--he is over!"
As the captain said this, Mr. Wyatt, in fact, sprang from the boat, and,
as we were yet in the lee of the wreck, succeeded, by almost superhuman
exertion, in getting hold of a rope which hung from the fore-chains. In
another moment he was on board, and rushing frantically down into the
cabin.
In the meantime, we had been swept astern of the ship, and being quite
out of her lee, were at the mercy of the tremendous sea which was still
running. We made a determined effort to put back, but our little boat
was like a feather in the breath of the tempest. We saw at a glance that
the doom of the unfortunate artist was sealed.
As our distance from the wreck rapidly increased, the madman (for as
such only could we regard him) was seen to emerge from the
companion--way, up which by dint of strength that appeared gigantic, he
dragged, bodily, the oblong box. While we gazed in the extremity of
astonishment, he passed, rapidly, several turns of a three-inch rope,
first around the box and then around his body. In another instant both
body and box were in the sea--disappearing suddenly, at once and
forever.
We lingered awhile sadly upon our oars, with our eyes riveted upon the
spot. At length we pulled away. The silence remained unbroken for an
hour. Finally, I hazarded a remark.
"Did you observe, captain, how suddenly they sank? Was not that an
exceedingly singular thing? I confess that I entertained some feeble
hope of his final deliverance, when I saw him lash himself to the box,
and commit himself to the sea."
"They sank as a matter of course," replied the captain, "and that like a
shot. They will soon rise again, however--BUT NOT TILL THE SALT MELTS."
"The salt!" I ejaculated.
"Hush!" said the captain, pointing to the wife and sisters of the
deceased. "We must talk of these things at some more appropriate time."
We suffered much, and made a narrow escape, but fortune befriended us,
as well as our mates in the long-boat. We landed, in fine, more dead
than alive, after four days of intense distress, upon the beach opposite
Roanoke Island. We remained here a week, were not ill-treated by the
wreckers, and at length obtained a passage to New York.
About a month after the loss of the "Independence," I happened to meet
Captain Hardy in Broadway. Our conversation turned, naturally, upon the
disaster, and especially upon the sad fate of poor Wyatt. I thus learned
the following particulars.
The artist had engaged passage for himself, wife, two sisters and a
servant. His wife was, indeed, as she had been represented, a most
lovely, and most accomplished woman. On the morning of the fourteenth of
June (the day in which I first visited the ship), the lady suddenly
sickened and died. The young husband was frantic with grief--but
circumstances imperatively forbade the deferring his voyage to New York.
It was necessary to take to her mother the corpse of his adored wife,
and, on the other hand, the universal prejudice which would prevent his
doing so openly was well known. Nine-tenths of the passengers would have
abandoned the ship rather than take passage with a dead body.
In this dilemma, Captain Hardy arranged that the corpse, being first
partially embalmed, and packed, with a large quantity of salt, in a box
of suitable dimensions, should be conveyed on board as merchandise.
Nothing was to be said of the lady's decease; and, as it was well
understood that Mr. Wyatt had engaged passage for his wife, it became
necessary that some person should personate her during the voyage. This
the deceased lady's-maid was easily prevailed on to do. The extra
state-room, originally engaged for this girl during her mistress' life,
was now merely retained. In this state-room the pseudo-wife, slept, of
course, every night. In the daytime she performed, to the best of her
ability, the part of her mistress--whose person, it had been carefully
ascertained, was unknown to any of the passengers on board.
My own mistake arose, naturally enough, through too careless, too
inquisitive, and too impulsive a temperament. But of late, it is a rare
thing that I sleep soundly at night. There is a countenance which haunts
me, turn as I will. There is an hysterical laugh which will forever ring
within my ears.
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