Out beyond there lay the world, the vast unknown, the larger life; and
the windy blue sky streaked with long-drawn wisps of feathery white
cloud, and the tumbling green waves with their crisp white caps, and
the screaming gulls in their glorious free flight, all tugged at his
heart and called him to the quest.
And these cumbered quays, with their heaps of merchandise, and the
jerking ropes and squeaking pulley-blocks that piled them higher and
higher every moment,--the swaying masts up above and busy decks down
below,--the strange foreign smells and flavour of it all,--the rough
tarry-breeks hanging about and spitting jovially in the intervals of
uncouth talk,--all these were but a foretaste of the great change, and
he savoured them all with vastest enjoyment.
He inspected, from a distance, the great clippers that did the voyage
to New York in twenty to twenty-five days, stately and disciplined, in
the very look of them, as ships of the line almost.
There were ships loading and unloading for and from nearly every port
in the world. It was like being at the centre of a mighty spider's web
whose arms and filaments reached out to the extremest ends of the
earth. He had never felt so free in his life before.
He was in no pressing hurry to settle on either his port or his ship,
but in any case it would not be on one of those great packet-boats he
would go. His fancy ran rather to something smaller, something more
intimate in itself and less likely to be crowded with passengers whose
acquaintance he had no desire to make.
He wandered further among the smaller craft, with a relish in the
search that was essentially a part of the new life. He developed quite
a discriminating taste in ships, though it was only by chatting with
the old salts who lounged about the quay-walls that he learned to
distinguish a ship from a barque and a brig from a schooner. His
preferences were based purely on appearances. The sea-faring qualities
of the various craft were beyond him.
But here and there, one and another would attract him by reason of its
looks, and he would return again and again to compare them with still
later discoveries, saying to himself, "Yes, that would do first-rate
now, if she should happen to be going my way. We'll see presently."
He came, in time, upon a brig loading in one of these outer basins, and
even to his untutored eye she was a picture,--so graceful her lines, so
tapering her masts, so trim and taut the whole look of her.
"Where does she go to?" he asked of an old sailor-man, who was sitting
on a cask, chewing his quid like an old cow and spitting meditatively
at intervals.
"Bawst'n, 'Merica, 's where she's bound this v'y'ge, Mister, an' ef she
did it in twenty days I shouldn' be a bit s'prised, not a bit, I
shouldn'."
"Good-looking boat! What does she carry?"
"Miskellaneous cargo. Bit o' everything, as you might say."
"And when does she sail?"'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account