The Green Hand: Adventures of a Naval LieutenantCupples, George
General
The Green Hand: Adventures of a Naval Lieutenant
Cupples, George
Sea stories; Seafaring life -- Juvenile fiction; Voyages and travels -- Juvenile fiction
"The mate upon this started and looked round, then aloft. 'Confound it!'
said he to himself, 'if this breeze would only freshen! There _is_ a
sort of set on the surface just now,' continued he to me, coolly enough,
'though how you idlers happened to have an idea of it puzzles me, unless
because you've nothing else to do but watch the water. Currents are
pretty frequent hereabouts, however.' 'Dear me!' said I, 'but if we
should----' 'Stuff, sir!' said he, quickly, 'the coast here must be
steep-to enough, I should think, since if it weren't for the haze, we'd
have sighted it thirty miles off! What we want is wind--wind, to let's
cross it.' 'But then a calm, Mr Finch,' I said; 'I'm hanged afraid of
those calms!' 'Well, well, sir,' said he, not liking just to shake me
off at once, after my proving less of a ninny in sea matters than he had
supposed, 'these long currents never set right ashore; even if we lose
the wind, as we may soon, why, she'll take off into the eddy seaward,
sir, if you _must_ know--the dead-water in-shore, and the ebb-tide,
always give it a safe turn!'
"All this, of course, was as much to satisfy himself as me. 'Well,
that's delightful,' said I, as if quite contented, and Mr Finch walked
away hastily down one of the poop-ladders, no doubt glad to get rid of
me in a decent manner, though I saw him next minute glancing in at the
compass-boxes.
"'Keep her up to her course, sirrah; luff, d'ye hear,' said he to
Jacobs, who was, perhaps, the best helmsman aboard. 'She falls off
tremendous bad, sir,' answered Jacobs, with another whirl of the spokes;
her want of actual headway making the Indiaman _sag_ dead away to
leeward, as she shoved into the force of the sea-stream, running more
and more direct upon her starboard bow. One minute the courses would
sink in with a long sighing fall to the lower-masts, the next her
topsails would flutter almost aback, and the heat even in the shadow of
her awnings was extreme, yet she still seemed to have a breeze through
the white glare aloft. I was determined to bring things to a point
somehow or other, so I followed the mate down the steps. 'Oh, by-the-by,
Mr Finch!' said I eagerly, 'suppose one of those dreadful--what do you
call 'em?--ah, tornadoes--were to come on! I understand this is just the
way, near Africa--baffling breeze--heat suffocating--hazy
atmosphere--long swell--and current rising to the surface!'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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