Heavy sprays dashed over me at the helm, which, however, seeming to wash
away the sulphur and brimstone smoke of many a quarantine, brought
enjoyment to my mind.
Confused waves rose about us, high and dangerous--often high above the
gunwale of the canoe--but her shapely curves balanced her well, and she
rode over them all in safety.
This canoe ride was thrilling and satisfactory to us all. It proved
beyond a doubt that we had in this little craft a most extraordinary
sea-boat, for the tow was a thorough test of her seaworthiness.
The captain of the steamer ordered oil cast over from time to time,
relieving us of much spray and sloppy motion, but adding to discomforts
of taste to me at the helm, for much of the oil blew over me and in my
face. Said the captain to one of his mates (an old whaler by the way,
and whalers for some unaccountable reason have never too much regard for
a poor merchantman), "Mr. Smith."
"Aye, aye, sir," answered old Smith.
"Mr. Smith, hoist out that oil."
"Aye, aye, sir," said the old "blubberhunter," in high glee, as he went
about it with alacrity, and in less than five minutes from the time the
order was given, I was smothering in grease and our boat was oiled from
keel to truck.
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