About
midnight the wind became fair, and having called the captain, I was
ordered to call all hands. How I accomplished this I do not know,
but I am quite sure that I did not give the true hoarse, boatswain
call of "A-a-ll ha-a-a-nds! up anchor, a-ho-oy!" In a short time every
one was in motion, the sails loosed, the yards braced, and we began to
heave up the anchor, which was our last hold upon Yankee land. I could
take but little part in all these preparations. My little knowledge of
a vessel was all at fault. Unintelligible orders were so rapidly given
and so immediately executed; there was such a hurrying about, and such
an intermingling of strange cries and stranger actions, that I was
completely bewildered. There is not so helpless and pitiable an object
in the world as a landsman beginning a sailor's life. At length
those peculiar, longdrawn sounds, which denote that the crew are
heaving at the windlass, began, and in a few moments we were under
weigh. The noise of the water thrown from the bows began to be
heard, the vessel leaned over from the damp night breeze, and rolled
with the heavy ground swell, and we had actually begun our long,
long journey.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25