Heart of Oak: A Three-Stranded Yarn, vol. 3Russell, William Clark
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Heart of Oak: A Three-Stranded Yarn, vol. 3
Russell, William Clark
English fiction -- 19th century; Sea stories
Captain Cliffe came to the compass-stand whilst I stood looking at the
card; I felt his little blinking eyes were upon me when my sight went
to the hollow canvas, and to the sea-smoke that from time to time blew
away in little puffs from off the lee bow when the brig stooped with a
sheering plunge shouldering a knoll of the blue brine into a long roar
of foam.
'This is good sailing,' said I.
'It beats steam anyhow,' said he, turning to look at the race of wake
astern.
'What's the speed?'
'Nine,' he answered with a convulsive grimace of triumph, 'and I
understand they never could get more than seven out of the steamer you
came out in.'
The mate walked in the gangway; I saw but one man forward. The captain
told me the crew were at dinner. But whilst I stood first one man and
then another came up through a little hole in the fore part of the
brig, and in a few minutes half a dozen of them were sprawling and
lounging in the shadows the canvas made upon the forecastle, smoking,
but scarcely speaking for heat and loathing of movement.
I could not forbear a smile when I reflected that to all intents
and purposes I was veritably the owner of this white brig sweeping
south-west, and the master of those people yonder. What would my
prosaic friends of the City think of such an adventure as this I was
upon? But put Marie by my side, or bid me know for a God's-truth that
she was safe, and I'd have sworn there was nothing in this wide world
of delights comparable with such sailing as this. Sickness had been
cured by the 'Cambrian.' The heave of the deck, the slant of the hull,
the feel of the speeding of the fabric of white cloud through the
sun-bright gushing of wind were as a buoyancy of spirits; you did not
heed them, yet they worked like wine in the blood. I wanted but peace
at my heart, the tranquility of conviction, to have tasted a perfect
happiness in this glorious Cape noon of flashing ocean, of rushing brig
and wind filled with the music of the strands.
My reverie was disturbed--for Cliffe stood silent by my side--by the
sight of the boy coming along with the cabin dinner, and presently the
captain and I were seated at table.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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