handsomely
for their services, two of them, Burke and Sandon, swung
themselves along the netting into the shrouds, and were soon
at his side.
A long discussion ensued. The men evidently were asking more than Mr. Kear was inclined to give, and at one
time it seemed as though the negotiation would fall through
altogether. But at length the bargain was struck, and I saw
Mr. Kear take a bundle of paper dollars from his waistcoat
pocket, and hand a number of them over to one of the men.
The man counted them carefully, and from the time it took
him, I should think that he could not have pocketed anything
less than a hundred dollars.
The next business was to get Mr. Kear down from the
foretop, and Burke and Sandon proceeded to tie a rope
round his waist, which they afterward fastened to the forestay; then, in a way which provoked shouts of laughter from
their mates, they gave the unfortunate man a shove, and sent
him rolling down like a bundle of dirty clothes on to the
forecastle.
I was quite mistaken as to his object. Mr. Kear had no
intention of looking after his wife, but remained by the side
of Silas Huntly until the gathering darkness hid them both
from view.
As night drew on, the wind grew calmer, but the sea remained very rough. The moon had been up ever since four
in the afternoon, though she only appeared at rare intervals
between the clouds. Some long lines of vapor on the horizon were tinged with a rosy glare that foreboded a strong
breeze for the morrow, and all felt anxious to know from
which quarter the breeze would come, for any but a northeaster would bear the frail raft on which we were to embark
far away from land.
About eight o'clock in the evening, Curtis mounted to the
main-top, but he seemed preoccupied and anxious, and did
not speak to anyone. He remained for a quarter of an
hour, then after silently pressing my hand, he returned to
his old post.
I laid myself down in the narrow space at my disposal,
and tried to sleep; but my mind was filled with strange forebodings, and sleep was impossible. The very calmness of
the atmosphere was oppressive; scarcely a breath of air
vibrated through the metal rigging, and yet the sea rose with
a heavy swell as though it felt the warnings of a coming
tempest.
All at once, at about eleven o'clock, the moon burst
brightly forth through a rift in the clouds, and the waves
sparkled again as if illuminated by a submarine glimmer. I
start up and look around me. Is it merely imagination? or
do I really see a black speck floating, on the dazzling whiteness of the waters, a speck that cannot be a rock, because
it rises and falls with the heaving motion of the billows?
But the moon once again becomes overclouded; the sea is
darkened, and I return to my uneasy couch close to the larboard shrouds.
Chapter XXVII - The Whale-Boat Missing
*
DECEMBER 6. — I must have fallen asleep for a few hours,
when, at four o'clock in the morning, I was rudely aroused
by the roaring of the wind, and could distinguish Curtis's
voice as he shouted in the brief intervals between the heavy
gusts.
I got up, and holding tightly to the purlin — for the waves
made the masts tremble with their violence — I tried to look
around and below me. The sea was literally raging beneath,
and great masses of livid-looking foam were dashing between the masts, which were oscillating terrifically. It was
still dark, and I could only faintly distinguish two figures
in the stern, whom, by the sound of their voices, that I
caught occasionally above the tumult, I made out to be
Curtis and the boatswain.
Just at that moment a sailor, who had mounted to the
main-top to do something to the rigging, passed close behind me.
"What's the matter?" I asked.
"The wind has changed," he answered, adding something
which I could not hear distinctly, but which sounded like
"dead against us."
Dead against us! then. thought I, the wind had shifted to
the southwest, and my last night's forebodings had been
correct.
When
for their services, two of them, Burke and Sandon, swung
themselves along the netting into the shrouds, and were soon
at his side.
A long discussion ensued. The men evidently were asking more than Mr. Kear was inclined to give, and at one
time it seemed as though the negotiation would fall through
altogether. But at length the bargain was struck, and I saw
Mr. Kear take a bundle of paper dollars from his waistcoat
pocket, and hand a number of them over to one of the men.
The man counted them carefully, and from the time it took
him, I should think that he could not have pocketed anything
less than a hundred dollars.
The next business was to get Mr. Kear down from the
foretop, and Burke and Sandon proceeded to tie a rope
round his waist, which they afterward fastened to the forestay; then, in a way which provoked shouts of laughter from
their mates, they gave the unfortunate man a shove, and sent
him rolling down like a bundle of dirty clothes on to the
forecastle.
I was quite mistaken as to his object. Mr. Kear had no
intention of looking after his wife, but remained by the side
of Silas Huntly until the gathering darkness hid them both
from view.
As night drew on, the wind grew calmer, but the sea remained very rough. The moon had been up ever since four
in the afternoon, though she only appeared at rare intervals
between the clouds. Some long lines of vapor on the horizon were tinged with a rosy glare that foreboded a strong
breeze for the morrow, and all felt anxious to know from
which quarter the breeze would come, for any but a northeaster would bear the frail raft on which we were to embark
far away from land.
About eight o'clock in the evening, Curtis mounted to the
main-top, but he seemed preoccupied and anxious, and did
not speak to anyone. He remained for a quarter of an
hour, then after silently pressing my hand, he returned to
his old post.
I laid myself down in the narrow space at my disposal,
and tried to sleep; but my mind was filled with strange forebodings, and sleep was impossible. The very calmness of
the atmosphere was oppressive; scarcely a breath of air
vibrated through the metal rigging, and yet the sea rose with
a heavy swell as though it felt the warnings of a coming
tempest.
All at once, at about eleven o'clock, the moon burst
brightly forth through a rift in the clouds, and the waves
sparkled again as if illuminated by a submarine glimmer. I
start up and look around me. Is it merely imagination? or
do I really see a black speck floating, on the dazzling whiteness of the waters, a speck that cannot be a rock, because
it rises and falls with the heaving motion of the billows?
But the moon once again becomes overclouded; the sea is
darkened, and I return to my uneasy couch close to the larboard shrouds.
Chapter XXVII - The Whale-Boat Missing
*
DECEMBER 6. — I must have fallen asleep for a few hours,
when, at four o'clock in the morning, I was rudely aroused
by the roaring of the wind, and could distinguish Curtis's
voice as he shouted in the brief intervals between the heavy
gusts.
I got up, and holding tightly to the purlin — for the waves
made the masts tremble with their violence — I tried to look
around and below me. The sea was literally raging beneath,
and great masses of livid-looking foam were dashing between the masts, which were oscillating terrifically. It was
still dark, and I could only faintly distinguish two figures
in the stern, whom, by the sound of their voices, that I
caught occasionally above the tumult, I made out to be
Curtis and the boatswain.
Just at that moment a sailor, who had mounted to the
main-top to do something to the rigging, passed close behind me.
"What's the matter?" I asked.
"The wind has changed," he answered, adding something
which I could not hear distinctly, but which sounded like
"dead against us."
Dead against us! then. thought I, the wind had shifted to
the southwest, and my last night's forebodings had been
correct.
When
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