I hollowed my hands, and, hailing the captain, who was on the
quarter-deck, asked him for the time by his chronometer. He flourished
his arm and disappeared and, presently returning, shouted to know if I
was ready. I put the key in my watch and answered yes, and then he gave
me the time. My watch, though antique, was a noble piece of mechanism,
and I have little doubt, as trustworthy as his chronometer. But I was
careful to let it lie snug in my hand. I did not want the negro at the
tiller nor the others to see it. They would wonder that so fine a
jewelled piece as this should be in the possession of the second mate of
a little brig, and it was my business to manage that they never should
have cause to wonder at anything in that way.
The dusk of the evening came quick out of the east, and the wind
freshened with a long cry in our rigging as if the eastern darkness was
a foe it was rushing out of the west to meet. I brought the schooner
north-north-east by my compass and watched her behaviour anxiously. The
swell was on the quarter, and the wind and sea a trifle abaft the
larboard beam; she leaned a little to the weight of her clothes, but was
surprisingly stiff considering how light she was. Wilkinson and the
negro came and stood by my side. The sea broke heavily from the weather
bow, and the water roared white under the lee bends and spread astern in
a broad wake of foam. The whaler did not brace his yards up till after
we had started, and now hung a pale faint mass in the windy darkness on
the quarter. A tincture of rusty red hovered like smoke coloured by the
furnace that produces it, in the west, but the night had drawn down
quick and dark; the washing noise of the water was sharp, the wind
piercingly cold; each sweep of the schooner's masts to windward was
followed by a dull roaring of the blast rushing out of the hollows of
the canvas, and she swung to the seas with wild yaws, but with
regularity sufficient to prove the strict government of the helm.
But it was being at sea! homeward bound too! There was no wish of mine,
engendered by my hideous loneliness on the ice, by my abhorred
association with the Frenchman, that I could not refer to as, down to
this moment, gratified. My heart bounded; my spirits could not have been
higher had this ocean been the Thames, and yonder dark flowing hills of
water the banks of Erith and the Gravesend shore.
I turned to the three men: "My lads," said I, "you prove yourselves fine
bold fellows by thus volunteering. Do not fear: if God guides us
home--to my home, I mean--you shall find a handsome account in this
business."
"Six more chaps would have jined had th'ole man bin willin'," said
Wilkinson. "But best as it is, master, though she's a trifle
short-handed."
"Why, yes," said I; "but being fore and aft, you know! It isn't as if
we'd got courses to hand and topsails to reef."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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