Historical fiction; Love stories; Philadelphia (Pa.) -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction; Sea stories
He caught the smile hidden behind the words and smiled himself. And for
the first time since the night at the Crooked Billet the bitter wind
that blew between them died completely down; he placed her chair for
her, and drew his own toward it; and he talked to her in a new tone,
with confidence and spirit; she sat and listened, and the hands which
were folded in her lap trembled ever so little, and her eyes were even
brighter than before.
XL
The _Roebuck_ let go her moorings in the gray of the July morning;
one of the boats towed her out of the run and into the river; then
under mainsail, topsail, and jibs she pointed her nose downstream on
the tedious journey to the capes. The tide ran out strongly, and the
wind favored the vessel's progress; she had dropped the city behind
by sun-up, the flats went by, and she picked up the towns on the
river-bank one by one. The bay opened out late in the afternoon; the
mate marked the lights of Lewes well into the night; and by morning
they were at sea, under full sail and headed directly east.
The mulatto proved a good cook, and the breakfast he brought into
the main cabin was excellent and plentiful. There was a large cut of
Westphalia ham upon a broad platter, hot, candied, and delicious; there
was a dish of rice like a hillock of snow, ship's biscuit, and steaming
chocolate in a tall, slim pot.
"We are to be well fed, at all events," said Anthony, as he sat to the
breakfast, with satisfaction. Mademoiselle and Tom Horn had been seated
before he came in, and the clerk had a chart, marked in red and blue
and black ink, upon the table between them. "The schooner is pointed
due east," said Anthony. "Corkery tells me those were your directions."
"East, on the inner skirt of the circle until we reach the Azores,"
said Tom Horn, pointing to the characters on his chart and following
them with a finger. "Then south to the Sargasso."
Mademoiselle, as she followed the tracing finger, bent forward; and, as
it stopped at the region where lay the sea of grass, she saw its place
was marked by a widening circle of skulls. She shivered a little and
drew back.
"With the wind holding," said Anthony, "We should raise the Azores in
two weeks."
"We must cling to the inner rim of the circle," said Tom Horn, still
with his finger on the chart, "for all things carried by the current
drift toward its center; the moon and the running tides and the turning
of the world draw them. And we must follow the circle to the place
where it begins to bend to the south; the hulk we seek may have been
delayed in its passage, for no man knows what the sea will do, and no
one can judge the mysteries of the wind."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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