I loved Marble. Hardy, loose, in some
respects, and unnurtured as he was in others, the man had been
steadily my friend. He was a capital seaman; a sort of an instinctive
navigator; true as the needle to the flag, and as brave as a
lion. Then, I knew he was in his present strait on account of
mortified feeling, and the rigid notions he entertained of his duty to
his owners. I think I do myself no more than justice, when I say that
I would gladly have exchanged places with him, any time that night.
We held a consultation on the quarter-deck, and it was determined that
our only chance of picking up the boat, was by remaining as nearly as
possible, at the place where her crew must have last seen the
schooner. Marble had a right to expect this; and we did all that lay
in our power to effect the object; waring often, and gaining on our
tacks what we lost in coming round. In this manner we passed a painful
and most uncomfortable night; the winds howling about us a sort of
requiem for the dead, while we hardly knew when we were wallowing in
the seas or not, there being so much water that came down from the
clouds, as nearly to drown us on deck.
At last the light returned, and soon after the tempest broke,
appearing to have expended its fury. An hour after the sun had risen,
we got the trade-wind again, the sea became regular once more, and the
schooner was under all her canvass.
Pages:
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437