No attempt being made to save anything, the wreck was floating astern in
five minutes, and the ship was fortunately extricated from this new
hazard. Mr. Truck, in spite of his acquired coolness, looked piteously at
all that gallant hamper, in which he had so lately rejoiced, as yard-arm,
cross-trees, tressel-trees, and tops rose on the summits of swells or
settled in the troughs, like whales playing their gambols. But habit is a
seaman's philosophy, and in no one feature is his character more
respectable than in that manliness which disinclines him to mourn over a
misfortune that is inevitable.
The Montauk now resembled a tree stripped of its branches, or a courser
crippled in his sinews; her glory had, in a great degree, departed. The
foremast alone remained, and of this even the head was gone, a
circumstance of which Captain Truck complained more than of any other, as,
to use his own expressions, "it destroyed the symmetry of the spar, which
had proved itself to be a good stick." What, however, was of more real
importance, it rendered it difficult, if not impossible, to get up a spare
topmast forward. As both the main and mizzen-mast had gone quite near the
deck, this was almost the only tolerably easy expedient that remained;
and, within an hour of the accident, Mr. Truck announced his intentions to
stand as far south as he could to strike the trades, and then to make a
fair wind of it across the Atlantic, unless, indeed, he might be able to
fetch into the Cape de Verde Islands, where it would be possible, perhaps,
to get something like a now outfit.
"All I now ask, my dear young lady," he said to Eve, who ventured on deck
to look at the desolation, as soon the wreck was cut adrift, "all I now
ask, my dear young lady, is an end to westerly winds for two or three
weeks, and I will promise to place you all in America yet, in time to eat
your Christmas dinner. I do not think Sir George will shoot many white
bears among the Rocky Mountains this year, but then there will be so many
more left for another season. The ship is in a category, and he will be an
impudent scoundrel who denies it; but worse categories than this have been
reasoned out of countenance. All head-sail is not a convenient show of
cloth to claw off a lee-shore with; but I still hope to escape the
misfortune of laying eyes on the coast of Africa."
"Are we far from it?" asked Eve, who sufficiently understood the danger of
being on an uninhabitable shore in their present situation; one in which
it was vain to seek for a port. "I would rather be in the neighbourhood of
any other land, I think, than that of Africa."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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