In the Sargasso Sea: A NovelJanvier, Thomas A. (Thomas Allibone)
Science
In the Sargasso Sea: A Novel
Janvier, Thomas A. (Thomas Allibone)
Science fiction
Moreover, I saw that while the boat was well built for pleasure
cruising in smooth water--and, indeed, was so stout in her frame that
she would stand a great deal of knocking about without being the
worse for it--she by no means was prepared for the chances of an ocean
voyage. Except where her little cabin and engine-room would be--the
two filling about half of her length amidships--she was entirely open;
and while the frame of her cabin was stoutly built, that part of it
intended to rise above the rail was arranged for sliding glass
windows--which would be smashed in a moment by a heavy dash of sea. It
was clear, therefore, that in addition to setting her up on the lines
planned for her--a big job and a long job to start with--there was a
lot more for me to do. To fit her for my purposes it would be
necessary to cover her cabin windows with planking; to deck her over
forward in order to have my stores under cover as well as to guard
against shipping enough water to swamp her in rough weather; and
finally to rig her with a mast and sail upon which to fall back for
motive-power in the event of my running out of coal. This additional
work would not, in one way, present any difficulties--it being in
itself simple and easy of accomplishment; but in another way it was
not pleasant to contemplate, since the doing of it all single-handed
would increase very greatly the time which must pass before I could
start upon my voyage. However, as consideration of that phase of the
matter only tended to discourage me, I put it out of sight as well as
I was able and set myself with a will to finishing my preliminary
work--of which there still was a good deal to do.
The steamer's machine-shop, as I have said, was unusually well fitted
and supplied; but even in the short time that the vessel had been
lying abandoned in that reeking atmosphere rust had so coated
everything not shut up in lockers that all the tools in the racks and
the fittings of the lathe--although the lathe had an oil-cloth hood
over it--had to be cleaned before they could be used: a job that kept
me busy with the grind-stone, and emery-cloth, and oiled cotton-waste,
for a good long while. And after that I had to get the forge in order,
and to bring up fuel for it from the coal bunkers. And in attending to
all these various matters the time slipped away so quickly that a
whole week had passed before I had done.
But I must say that as the cat and I labored together--though his
labors were confined to cheering me by following me about on three
legs wherever I went, and pretty much all the while talking to me in
his way so that I should not fail to take notice of him--I got more
and more light-hearted; which was natural enough, seeing that what I
was doing in itself interested me and so made the time pass quickly,
and that I had also a great swelling undercurrent of hope as I
thought of what my slow-going work would bring me to in the end.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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