When daylight
returned, however, with a clear horizon, no increase of wind, and
nothing in sight, I was so much relieved as to take a good nap until
eight. All that day we started neither tack nor sheet, nor touched a
brace. Towards evening I went aloft myself to look for land, but
without success, though I knew, from our observation at noon, it could
not be far off. Fifty years ago the longitude was the great difficulty
with navigators. Both Talcott and myself did very well with the
lunars, it is true; but there was no chance to observe, and even
lunars soon get out of their reckoning among currents and tides. Glad
enough, then, was I to hear Neb sing but "Light ahead!" from the
fore-top-sail-yard. This was about ten o'clock. I knew this light
must be the Lizard, as we were too far to the eastward for Scilly. The
course was changed so as to bring the light a little on the
weather-bow; and I watched for its appearance to us on deck with an
anxiety I have experienced, since, only in the most trying
circumstances. Half an hour sufficed for this, and then I felt
comparatively happy. A new beginner even is not badly off with the
wind fresh at south-west, and the Lizard light in plain view on his
weather-bow, if he happen to be bound up-channel. That night,
consequently, proved to be more comfortable than the previous.
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