The Freebooters: A Story of the Texan WarAimard, Gustave
History
The Freebooters: A Story of the Texan War
Aimard, Gustave
Texas -- History -- Revolution, 1835-1836 -- Fiction; Western stories
"Really now?--well, my boy," the old sailor said, with a crafty smile,
"if you are asked, you will answer that you do not know; in that way you
are certain of not compromising, and, before all, of not deceiving,
yourself."
Then, after looking for an instant at the helmsman's downcast face on
receiving this strange answer, he added--"Strike eight bells, my dear;
there is the sun rising over there behind the mountains: we will call
the watch."
And, after restoring his pipe to the corner of his mouth, he resumed his
walk. The sailor seized the cord fastened to the clapper of the bell,
and struck four double strokes. At this signal they knew so well, the
men lying in the forecastle sprang up tumultuously, and rushed to the
hatchway, shouting--
"Up with you, starboard watch; up, up, it is four o'clock. Starboard
watch, ahoy!"
So soon as the watch was changed, the master gave the necessary orders
to dress the vessel. Then, as the sun was beginning to rise above the
horizon in a flood of ruddy vapour, which gradually dispersed the dense
fog, that had enveloped the brig throughout the night, like a
winding-sheet, he set a man to the foretop to look seaward, and examine
the coast they were sailing along. When all these various duties had
been discharged, the old sailor resumed his walk, taking a look every
now and then at the masts, and muttering between his teeth--"Where can
we be going? He would be very kind, if he would tell me: we are making a
regular blind man's traverse, and we shall be very lucky if we get out
of it safe and sound."
All at once his face brightened, and a glad smile spread over it. The
Captain had just left his cabin and come upon deck. Captain Johnson was
at this period a man of hardly three-and-thirty years of age, above the
middle height; his gestures were simple, graceful, and full of natural
elegance; his features were masculine and marked, and his black eyes, in
which intelligence sparkled, gave his countenance an expression of
grandeur, strength, and loyalty.
"Good morning, father," he said to Master Lovel, as he cordially offered
him his hand.
"Good morning, lad," the latter replied; "did you sleep well?"
"Very well, thank you, father. Is there anything new?"
At this question, apparently so simple, the lieutenant drew himself up,
raised his hand to his hat, and answered deferentially--
"Captain, there is nothing new on board. I tacked at three o'clock, and,
according to your orders, we have been sailing as close to the wind as
we could, at a rate of six three-quarter knots an hour, under foretop
sails, and always keeping Galveston Point on the larboard quarter."
"That is well," the Captain answered, as he took a glance at the compass
and the sails.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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