I trust in God, you do not mean to ride
it out here till morning?"
"I like the berth as little as yourself, Mr. Barnstable," returned the
veteran seaman, in his calm manner, in which anxiety was, however,
beginning to grow evident. "We are short; but are afraid to let go our
hold of the bottom, lest the sea cast us ashore. How make you out the
wind?"
"Wind!" echoed the other; "there is not enough to blow a lady's curl
aside. If you wait, sir, till the land-breeze fills your sails, you will
wait another moon. I believe I've got my eggshell out of that nest of
gray-caps; but how it has been done in the dark, a better man than
myself must explain."
"Take your directions from the pilot, Mr. Barnstable," returned his
commanding officer, "and follow them strictly and to the letter."
A deathlike silence, in both vessels, succeeded this order; for all
seemed to listen eagerly to catch the words that fell from the man on
whom, even the boys now felt, depended their only hopes for safety. A
short time was suffered to elapse, before his voice was heard, in the
same low but distinct tones as before:
"Your sweeps will soon be of no service to you," he said, "against the
sea that begins to heave in; but your light sails will help them to get
you out. So long as you can head east-and-by-north, you are doing well,
and you can stand on till you open the light from that northern
headland, when you can heave to and fire a gun; but if, as I dread, you
are struck aback before you open the light, you may trust to your lead
on the larboard tack; but beware, with your head to the southward, for
no lead will serve you there.
Pages:
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59