I had been invited this day to dine with the Captain, Mr Splinter, the
first lieutenant being also of the party; the cloth had been withdrawn,
and we had all had a glass or two of wine a--piece, when the fog settled
down so thickly, although it was not more than five o'clock in the
afternoon, that the captain desired that the lamp might be lit. It was
done, and I was remarking the contrast between the dull, dusky, brown
light, or rather the palpable London fog that came through the skylight,
and the bright yellow sparkle of the lamp, when the second lieutenant, Mr
Treenail, came down the ladder.
"We have shoaled our water to five fathoms, sir--shells and stones.--Here,
Wilson, bring in the lead."
The leadsman, in his pea--jacket and shag trowsers, with the raindrop
hanging to his nose, and a large knot in his cheek from a junk of tobacco
therein stowed, with pale, wet visage, and whiskers sparkling with
moisture, while his long black hair hung damp and lank over his fine
forehead and the stand--up cape of his coat, immediately presented himself
at the door, with the lead in his claws, an octagonal--shaped cone, like
the weight of a window--sash, about eighteen inches long, and two inches
diameter at the bottom, tapering away nearly to a point at top, where it
was flattened, and a hole pierced for the line to be fastened to. At the
lower end--the but--end, as I would say there was a hollow scooped out,
and filled with grease, so that when the lead was cast, the quality of the
soil, sand, or shells, or mud, that came up adhering to this lard,
indicated, along with the depth of water, our situation in the North Sea;
and by this, indeed, we guided our course, in the absence of all
opportunity of ascertaining our position by observations of the sun.
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