A Middy of the King: A Romance of the Old British NavyCollingwood, Harry
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A Middy of the King: A Romance of the Old British Navy
Collingwood, Harry
Great Britain -- Fiction; Pirates -- Juvenile fiction; Seafaring life -- Juvenile fiction
The night closed down upon us early, and so dark that we could not see
as far as the length of the ship, there being no moon, while the light
of the stars was completely obscured by the dense canopy of storm-wrack
that overshadowed us, the only objects visible outside the bulwarks
being the faintly phosphorescent heads of the breaking seas as they
swept down menacingly upon us from to windward; the air was raw and
chill, although it was only the first week in September; the decks were
wet and sloppy with the driving rain and spray; and those of us who were
on watch looked thoroughly miserable as, encased from head to foot in
oilskins and sou'westers, we paced to and fro, availing ourselves to the
utmost of such shelter as was afforded by the bulwarks and the boats
stowed on the booms. By midnight the wind had further increased to such
an extent that sail was still further reduced, the courses being taken
off the ship, the jib stowed, and the mizen brailed in, leaving nothing
set but the three double-reefed topsails and the fore and main-topmast
staysails. Yet, unpleasant as was the weather, we had at least one
consolation: the ship behaved splendidly, sailing fast through the
water, and going along as dry as a bone, save for the spray that was
blown from the crests of the waves and came driving athwart our decks in
blinding and drenching showers.
When at length the day broke, it revealed the ship hove-to under
close-reefed fore and main topsails, and fore-topmast staysail, the
central object in the midst of a grey and desolate picture, the dreary
character of which it would be difficult to surpass. It was now blowing
a whole gale from the South-West, the wind having backed during the
night; the sky was an unbroken expanse of dark, slate-coloured cloud
athwart the face of which tattered shreds of dirty grey vapour rapidly
swept; the sea, of an opaque greyish-green tint, ran high and steep,
crested with great curling heads of pallid froth, flecked here and there
with fragments of seaweed, and our horizon was restricted to a circle of
little more than a mile in diameter by the driving mist and rain. It
was, in short, a thoroughly disagreeable day, and I was by no means
sorry that it was my forenoon watch below.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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