Heart of Oak: A Three-Stranded Yarn, vol. 2. — John Shaqi
Heart of Oak: A Three-Stranded Yarn, vol. 2.Russell, William Clark
General
Heart of Oak: A Three-Stranded Yarn, vol. 2.
Russell, William Clark
English fiction -- 19th century; Sea stories
'It won't hurt you,' said I, and brought a coil of rope across the
deck for her to stand on, that her feet might be clear of the water as
it washed with the slant of the planks. We then went to work: the water
bubbled, the clank of the brake ran a noise of life through the hulk;
the exercise flushed the girl's face, and, in a pause for breath, I
told her it would do her more good than sitting by the fire.
In that same pause whilst she breathed quickly she glanced with a
sudden look of pain and consternation in the direction of the galley,
and exclaimed:
'The body of my poor old nurse lies there. I had forgotten her.'
'I buried her,' said I.
'Where?'
I told her. She was shocked and her eyes filled, and she turned her
head to hide her face.
'It was not a thing to keep,' said I.
'Oh no,' she cried, looking round at me, eagerly and yet piteously.
'I don't mean that. You threw her into the sea as she lay--without a
prayer----'
'No,' said I, shortly.
She viewed me a little gratefully. I grasped the brake: she put her
hand upon it, and we fell to afresh.
We worked in this fashion for above half an hour, and then Miss Otway,
glowing with the labour and in no wise distressed by it, saving that
her breathing was quick, went below. I fetched the telescope and
stayed to carefully search the horizon before it fell dark. But point
the tubes as I would they gave me nothing. The near sea-line tumbled
dimly in long ragged wings of dark vapour, which as they lifted with
the wind stretched overhead like lengths of smoke; and betwixt them
I spied a higher platform of cloud, mouse-coloured here and there as
though touched by some wild stormy light. I saw no ice, but the wind
blew as though ice were close aboard: the sting of it was insufferable
when you faced it standing. A noise of rattling sometimes came from
the forecastle as though the spray froze in leaping, and fell with the
weight of hail in the tropics, and already the pump we had been plying
was as thick and hard bound as the other.
And still I lingered, not indeed with the hope of sighting a sail
before the blackness fell upon us, but with the idea of making some
sort of blind guess at the drift of the hull. The strong breeze blew
out of the north, and the tall coils of sea ran in wide flashings from
that quarter, but the large ocean swell was about north-west. I was
not very well acquainted with these waters and scarcely knew what to
recollect of the currents hereabouts. I was aware that the set of the
ice was to the northwards. But then the bergs struck deep root into
motions of the sea which had no influence atop; so that there might
be very well a surface-trend to the southward through wind and surge
and swell, when, some fathoms under, the body of the water was slowly
streaming in another direction.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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