Junior High School Literature, Book 1Elson, William H. (William Harris)
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Junior High School Literature, Book 1
Elson, William H. (William Harris)
American literature; English literature; Readers
I looked westward, and saw that one of the two trustworthy men whom I had
left at the helm was on his feet looking out westward, too. As the boat
rose, I fixed my eyes on the strip of clear greenish sky in the west, and
on the bright line of the sea just under it. The boat dipped again before
I could see anything. I squeezed my eyelids together to get the water out
of them, and when we rose again looked straight into the middle of the
bright sea-line. My heart bounded as if it would choke me—my tongue felt
like a cinder in my mouth—my knees gave way under me—I dropped down on to
the thwart, and sobbed out, with a great effort, as if I had been dumb
for weeks before, and had only that instant found my speech:
“A sail! a sail!”
The words were instantly echoed by the man in the stern-sheets.
“Sail, ho!” he screeches out, turning round on me and swinging his arms
about his head like a madman.
This made three of our company who had seen the ship already, and that
one fact was sufficient to remove all dread lest our eyes might have been
deceiving us. The great fear now was, not that we were deluded, but that
we might come to some serious harm through the excess of joy among the
people; that is to say, among such of the people as still had the sense
to feel and the strength to express what they felt. I must record in
my own justification, after confessing that I lost command over myself
altogether on the discovery of the sail, that I was the first who set
the example of self-control. I was in a manner forced to this by the crew
frantically entreating me to lay-to until we could make out what course
the ship was steering—a proceeding which, with the sea then running, with
the heavy lading of the boat, and with such feeble substitutes for mast
and sail as we possessed, must have been attended with total destruction
to us all. I tried to remind the men of this, but they were in such a
transport—hugging each other round the neck, and crying and laughing all
in a breath—that they were not fit to listen to reason. Accordingly, I
myself went to the helm again, and chose the steadiest of my two men in
the after-part of the boat, as a guard over the sheet, with instructions
to use force, if necessary, toward any one who stretched out so much as a
finger to it. The wind was rising every minute, and we had nothing for it
but to scud, and be thankful to God’s mercy that we had sea-room to do it
in.
“It will be dark in an hour’s time, sir,” says the man left along with
me when I took the helm again. “We have no light to show. The ship will
pass us in the night. Lay-to, sir! For the love of Heaven, give us all
a chance, and lay-to!” says he, and goes down on his knees before me,
wringing his hands.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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