After the overpowering heat of the day the comparative coolness of the
night was unspeakably refreshing, and with all the doors, the skylight,
and the stern-windows open, and a thorough circulation of fresh air
through the cabins, their several occupants were soon wrapped in a sound
and dreamless slumber.
It was even more pleasant on deck than it was below, for the hull of the
ship had, during the long scorching day, absorbed a considerable amount
of heat, which it gave off again during the night, causing the cabins
and forecastle to be unpleasantly warm even after all possible means had
been adopted for their thorough ventilation, whilst on deck the full
benefit of the breeze, what there was of it, was to be obtained.
Such, at all events, was Mr Ritson's opinion, as he sauntered
listlessly fore and aft, between the taffrail and the main-mast,
glancing now aloft at the all but idle canvas, then into the binnacle,
then over the side at the tiny bubbles creeping lazily past the ship's
side, and finally forward, to where the man on the lookout could be seen
seated upon the rail, facing ahead, with his arms folded and his back
leaning against the great wooden stock of one of the anchors, his form
showing black as that of an ebony statue against the brilliant silvery
sheen of the moonlight on the water. The remainder of the crew were
dimly visible seated on the deck in the black shadow of the bulwarks, a
tiny red spark or two indicating that some of them were solacing the
idle hours with a whiff or two of the fragrant weed. Officers who were
strict disciplinarians would have forbidden smoking in the watch on
deck, and would have insisted on the whole watch keeping constantly on
the move, as a safeguard against dozing; but Ritson was not a strict
disciplinarian; he liked to spare the men all unnecessary labour of
every kind, and, as there was no sail-trimming to be done, he just
allowed them to rest their weary bodies as much as they could.
He would have liked greatly to rest his own weary body, too, for indeed
he felt it to be almost a torture to be pacing ceaselessly to and fro
there on the deck, hour after hour.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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