I first tried the skylight; it was battened down--then the companion
hatch; it was locked--but the ladder leading up to it being cooler than the
noisome vapour bath I had left, I remained standing in it, trying to catch
a mouthful of fresh air through the joints of the door. All this while we
had been slipping along shore with the land--wind on our beam, at the rate
of five or six knots, but so gently and silently, that I could distinctly
hear the roar of the surf, as the long smooth swell broke on the beach,
which, from the loudness of the noise, could not be above a mile to
windward of us. I perceived at the same time that the schooner, although
going free, did not keep away nor take all the advantage of the land--wind
to make his easting, before the sea--breeze set down, that he might have
done, so that it was evident he did not intend to beat up, so as to fetch
the Crooked Island Passage, which would have been his course, had he been
bound for the States; but was standing over to the Cuba shore, at that time
swarming with pirates.
It was now good daylight, and the terral gradually died away, and left us
rolling gunwale under, as we rose and fell on the long seas, with our sails
flapping, bulkheads creaking and screaming, and mainboom jig--jigging, as
if it would have torn every thing to pieces. I could hear my friend Obed
walking the deck, and whistling manfully for the sea--breeze, and
exclaiming from time to time in his barbarous lingo, "Souffle, souffle, San
Antonio.
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