The Romance of Gilbert Holmes: An Historical NovelKirkman, Marshall M. (Marshall Monroe)
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The Romance of Gilbert Holmes: An Historical Novel
Kirkman, Marshall M. (Marshall Monroe)
Black Hawk War, 1832 -- Fiction
"Wouldn’t it help the boat, sir, if we lifted the yawl that’s dragging
at the stern?"
This weight he seemed not to have thought of, and was on the point of
directing me to have the boat hoisted, when, reflecting, he shook his
head, saying:
"Go and see if their boat is dragging, and if it is, leave ours."
This practice will seem strange to you, but at the time of which I speak
was common enough. The landing-places were then far apart, you must
know, so that it was the custom to take on passengers or put them ashore
at intermediate points; and to save time in such emergencies, a yawl or
light boat was allowed to drag ready for use, except that the oars were
removed to prevent their being stolen.
Upon receiving the captain’s order I hastened to the lower deck, where I
found our yawl dragging in the water, as I have said. Turning to the
Northern Light, I clearly made out its boat tied in like manner, and in
the stern one of the crew resting at his ease. Envying him his seat,
and reasoning that we ought not to enjoy any unfair advantage, as the
captain himself had thought, I slipped into our boat, and untying the
rope, let it run out through the ring that held it, until in this way I
had dropped back a yard or more. Thus master of the situation, I could
at will come close under the deck of the War Eagle or remain away, as I
might wish. Reclining in the stern of the boat, wearied with the
excitement of the evening, I was soothed and rested by the swash of the
water as it tossed the light craft in which I lay this way and that.
Yet without in any way losing interest in the race, for now a new view
presented itself, and this more picturesque, I thought, than the other.
Above my head clouds of fire and escaping steam flew across the reddened
sky, while about me the air was filled with spray, which, falling on my
upturned face, wet it as with a refreshing dew. Before me the War Eagle
groaned and creaked, and a little way off the other vessel, not less
strenuous, put forth her every effort to gain some slight advantage, but
unsuccessfully, as one could plainly see.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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