In the Sargasso Sea: A NovelJanvier, Thomas A. (Thomas Allibone)
Science
In the Sargasso Sea: A Novel
Janvier, Thomas A. (Thomas Allibone)
Science fiction
But the other chance which I had thought of, that my hulk might be
blown clear of the Sargasso Sea and back into the track of trade
again, still was to be reckoned with; and to know how that chance was
working it was necessary that I should find out my exact position on
the ocean, and then check off the changes in it by fresh observations
taken from day to day. And as I saw that the sun was close upon the
meridian, and no time to waste if I wanted to secure my first
noon-sight, I put off beginning my carpentering until I should have
hunted for the ship's instruments and got the latitude and longitude
that would give me my departure on my drifting voyage.
This was so simple a piece of work that I anticipated no difficulty in
executing it. While the low-lying haze narrowed my horizon it did not
sufficiently obscure the sun to interfere with sight-taking; I could
count upon finding the chronometers still going, they being made to
run for fifty-six hours and the ship having been abandoned only the
night before; and where I found the chronometers I felt sure that I
should find also a sextant and a chart. But when I went at this
easy-looking task I was brought up with a round turn: there were no
chronometers, there was no sextant, there was no chart of the North
Atlantic--there was not even a compass left on board!
It took me some little time to arrive at a certainty in this series of
negatives. I fancied--because it had been that way aboard the _Golden
Hind_--that the captain's room would be one of those opening off from
the cabin, and so began my search for it in that quarter. But when I
had made the round of all the state-rooms I was satisfied that they
had been occupied only by passengers. The single timepiece that I
found--for the clock in the cabin had been smashed when the
mizzen-mast came down--was a fine gold watch lying in one of the
berths partly under the pillow, where its owner must have left it in
his hurry to get to the boats. It still was going, and I slipped it
into my pocket--feeling that a thing with even that much of life in it
would be a comfort to me; but the hour that it gave was a quarter past
eleven (it having been set to the ship's time the day before, I
suppose) and therefore was of no use to me as a basis for
sight-taking.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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