Every one was in good humor;
things went right; and all was done with a will. At the dog watch, all
hands came on deck, and stood round the weather side of the
forecastle, or sat upon the windlass, and sung sea songs, and those
ballads of pirates and highwaymen, which sailors delight in. Home,
too, and what we should do when we got there, and when and how we
should arrive, was no infrequent topic. Every night, after the kids
and pots were put away, and we had lighted our pipes and cigars at the
galley, and gathered about the windlass, the first question was,-
"Well, Tom, what was the latitude to-day?"
"Why fourteen, north, and she has been going seven knots ever
since."
"Well, this will bring us up to the fine in five days."
"Yes, but these trades won't last twenty-four hours longer," says an
old salt, pointing with the sharp of his hand to leeward,- "I know
that by the look of the clouds."
Then came all manner of calculations and conjectures as to the
continuance of the wind, the weather under the line, the south-east
trades, etc., and rough guesses as to the time the ship would be up
with the Horn; and some, more venturous, gave her so many days to
Boston light, and offered to bet that she would not exceed it.
Pages:
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508