Weldon.
"There, in that direction," replied Dick Sand, pointing to the east,
which he knew by means of the compass.
"Well, Dick, we may reach Valparaiso, or any other part of the coast.
What matter? What we want is to land."
"And we shall do it, Mrs. Weldon, and I shall land you on a good
place," replied the young man, in a firm voice. "Besides, in standing
in for the land, I do not renounce the hope of encountering some of
those vessels which do the coasting trade on that shore. Ah! Mrs.
Weldon, the wind begins to blow steadily from the northwest! God grant
that it may keep on; we shall make progress, and good progress. We
shall drive in the offing with all our sails set, from the brigantine
to the flying-jib!"
Dick Sand had spoken with the confidence of the seaman, who feels that
he stands on a good ship, a ship of whose every movement he is master.
He was going to take the helm and call his companions to set the sails
properly, when Mrs. Weldon reminded him that he ought first to know the
"Pilgrim's" position.
It was, indeed, the first thing to do. Dick Sand went into the
captain's cabin for the chart on which the position of the day before
was indicated. He could then show Mrs. Weldon that the schooner was in
latitude 43° 35', and in longitude 164° 13', for, in the last
twenty-four hours, she had not, so to say, made any progress.
Mrs. Weldon leaned over this chart. She looked at the brown color which
represented the land on the right of the ocean. It was the coast of
South America, an immense barrier thrown between the Pacific and the
Atlantic from Cape Horn to the shores of Columbia. To consider it in
that way, that chart, which, was then spread out under her eyes, on
which was drawn a whole ocean, gave the impression that it would be
easy to restore the "Pilgrim's" passengers to their country. It is an
illusion which is invariably produced on one who is not familiar with
the scale on which marine charts are drawn. And, in fact, it seemed to
Mrs. Weldon that the land ought to be in sight, as it was on that piece
of paper!
And, meanwhile, on that white page, the "Pilgrim" drawn on an exact
scale, would be smaller than the most microscopic of infusoria! That
mathematical point, without appreciable dimensions, would appear lost,
as it was in reality in the immensity of the Pacific!
Dick Sand himself had not experienced the same impression as Mrs.
Weldon. He knew how far off the land was, and that many hundreds of
miles would not suffice to measure the distance from it. But he had
taken his part; he had become a man under the responsibility which had
fallen upon him.
The moment to act had come. He must profit by this northwest breeze
which was blowing up. Contrary winds had given place to favorable
winds, and some clouds scattered in the zenith under the cirrous form,
indicated that they would blow steadily for at least a certain time.
Dick called Tom and his companions.
"My friends," he said to them, "our ship has no longer any crew but
you. I cannot work without your aid. You are not sailors, but you have
good arms. Place them, then, at the 'Pilgrim's' service and we can
steer her. Every one's salvation depends on the good work of every one
on board."
"Mr. Dick," replied Tom, "my companions and I, we are your sailors. Our
good will shall not be wanting. All that men can do, commanded by you,
we shall do it."
"Well spoken, old Tom," said Mrs. Weldon.
"Yes, well spoken," continued Dick Sand; "but we must be prudent, and I
shall not carry too much canvas, so as not to run any risk.
Circumstances require a little less speed, but more security. I will
show you, my friends, what each will have to do in the work. As to me,
I shall remain at the helm, as long as fatigue does not oblige me to
leave it. From time to time a few hours' sleep will be sufficient to
restore me. But, during those few hours, it will be very necessary for
one of you to take my place. Tom, I shall show you how we steer by
means of the
"There, in that direction," replied Dick Sand, pointing to the east,
which he knew by means of the compass.
"Well, Dick, we may reach Valparaiso, or any other part of the coast.
What matter? What we want is to land."
"And we shall do it, Mrs. Weldon, and I shall land you on a good
place," replied the young man, in a firm voice. "Besides, in standing
in for the land, I do not renounce the hope of encountering some of
those vessels which do the coasting trade on that shore. Ah! Mrs.
Weldon, the wind begins to blow steadily from the northwest! God grant
that it may keep on; we shall make progress, and good progress. We
shall drive in the offing with all our sails set, from the brigantine
to the flying-jib!"
Dick Sand had spoken with the confidence of the seaman, who feels that
he stands on a good ship, a ship of whose every movement he is master.
He was going to take the helm and call his companions to set the sails
properly, when Mrs. Weldon reminded him that he ought first to know the
"Pilgrim's" position.
It was, indeed, the first thing to do. Dick Sand went into the
captain's cabin for the chart on which the position of the day before
was indicated. He could then show Mrs. Weldon that the schooner was in
latitude 43° 35', and in longitude 164° 13', for, in the last
twenty-four hours, she had not, so to say, made any progress.
Mrs. Weldon leaned over this chart. She looked at the brown color which
represented the land on the right of the ocean. It was the coast of
South America, an immense barrier thrown between the Pacific and the
Atlantic from Cape Horn to the shores of Columbia. To consider it in
that way, that chart, which, was then spread out under her eyes, on
which was drawn a whole ocean, gave the impression that it would be
easy to restore the "Pilgrim's" passengers to their country. It is an
illusion which is invariably produced on one who is not familiar with
the scale on which marine charts are drawn. And, in fact, it seemed to
Mrs. Weldon that the land ought to be in sight, as it was on that piece
of paper!
And, meanwhile, on that white page, the "Pilgrim" drawn on an exact
scale, would be smaller than the most microscopic of infusoria! That
mathematical point, without appreciable dimensions, would appear lost,
as it was in reality in the immensity of the Pacific!
Dick Sand himself had not experienced the same impression as Mrs.
Weldon. He knew how far off the land was, and that many hundreds of
miles would not suffice to measure the distance from it. But he had
taken his part; he had become a man under the responsibility which had
fallen upon him.
The moment to act had come. He must profit by this northwest breeze
which was blowing up. Contrary winds had given place to favorable
winds, and some clouds scattered in the zenith under the cirrous form,
indicated that they would blow steadily for at least a certain time.
Dick called Tom and his companions.
"My friends," he said to them, "our ship has no longer any crew but
you. I cannot work without your aid. You are not sailors, but you have
good arms. Place them, then, at the 'Pilgrim's' service and we can
steer her. Every one's salvation depends on the good work of every one
on board."
"Mr. Dick," replied Tom, "my companions and I, we are your sailors. Our
good will shall not be wanting. All that men can do, commanded by you,
we shall do it."
"Well spoken, old Tom," said Mrs. Weldon.
"Yes, well spoken," continued Dick Sand; "but we must be prudent, and I
shall not carry too much canvas, so as not to run any risk.
Circumstances require a little less speed, but more security. I will
show you, my friends, what each will have to do in the work. As to me,
I shall remain at the helm, as long as fatigue does not oblige me to
leave it. From time to time a few hours' sleep will be sufficient to
restore me. But, during those few hours, it will be very necessary for
one of you to take my place. Tom, I shall show you how we steer by
means of the
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