Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 11
General
Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 11
Literature -- Collections
It was now eleven o'clock, and the watch was sent below to get
breakfast, and at eight bells (noon), as everything was snug, although
the gale had not in the least abated, the watch was set and the other
watch and idlers sent below. For three days and three nights the gale
continued with unabated fury, and with singular regularity. There were
no lulls, and very little variation in its fierceness. Our ship, being
light, rolled so as almost to send the fore yard-arm under water, and
drifted off bodily to leeward. All this time there was not a cloud to be
seen in the sky, day or night; no, not so large as a man's hand. Every
morning the sun rose cloudless from the sea, and set again at night in
the sea in a flood of light. The stars, too, came out of the blue one
after another, night after night, unobscured, and twinkled as clear as
on a still frosty night at home, until the day came upon them. All this
time the sea was rolling in immense surges, white with foam, as far as
the eye could reach, on every side; for we were now leagues and leagues
from shore.
EVERY-DAY SEA LIFE
From 'Two Years Before the Mast'
The sole object was to make the time pass on. Any change was sought for
which would break the monotony of the time; and even the two-hours'
trick at the wheel, which came round to us in turn, once in every other
watch, was looked upon as a relief. The never-failing resource of long
yarns, which eke out many a watch, seemed to have failed us now; for we
had been so long together that we had heard each other's stories told
over and over again till we had them by heart; each one knew the whole
history of each of the others, and we were fairly and literally talked
out. Singing and joking we were in no humor for; and in fact any sound
of mirth or laughter would have struck strangely upon our ears, and
would not have been tolerated any more than whistling or a wind
instrument. The last resort, that of speculating upon the future, seemed
now to fail us; for our discouraging situation, and the danger we were
really in (as we expected every day to find ourselves drifted back among
the ice), "clapped a stopper" upon all that. From saying "_when_ we get
home," we began insensibly to alter it "_when_ we get home," and at last
the subject was dropped by a tacit consent.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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