I make no doubt, had I groped my way up to the
cross-trees, and leaped overboard my body would have struck the water,
thirty or forty yards from the ship. A marlin-spike falling from
either top, would have endangered no one on deck.
When the day returned, a species of lurid, sombre light was diffused
over the watery waste, though nothing was visible but the ocean and
the ship. Even the sea-birds seemed to have taken refuge in the
caverns of the adjacent coast, none re-appearing with the dawn. The
air was full of spray, and it was with difficulty that the eye could
penetrate as far into the humid atmosphere as half a mile. All hands
mustered on deck, as a matter of course, no one wishing to sleep at a
time like that. As for us officers, we collected on the forecastle,
the spot where danger would first make itself apparent, did it come
from the side of the land. It is not easy to make a landsman
understand the embarrassments of our situation. We had had no
observations for several days, and had been moving about by dead
reckoning, in a part of the ocean where the tides run like a
mill-tail, with the wind blowing a little hurricane. Even now, when
her bows were half submerged, and without a stitch of canvass exposed,
the Crisis drove ahead at the rate of three or four knots, luffing as
close to the wind as if she carried after-sail.
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