 | CHAPTER VIII. The sea lions, or, The lost sealers |  |
8. CHAPTER VIII.
Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be
Borne, like thy bubbles, on ward; from a boy
I wanton'd with thy breakers—they to me
Were a delight; and if the freshening sea
Made them a terror—'twas a pleasing fear;
For I was, as it were, a child of thee,
And trusted to thy billows, far and near,
And laid my hand upon thy mane—as I do here.”
Byron.
It was past the turn of the day when Roswell Gardiner
reached his vessel, after having carefully and with manly
interest in all that belonged to her, seen Mary to her home,
and taken his final leave of her. Of that parting we shall
say but little. It was touching and warm-hearted, and it
was rendered a little solemn by Mary Pratt's putting into
her lover's hand a pocket-bible, with an earnest request
that he would not forget to consult its pages. She added,
at the same time, that she had carefully marked those
on. The book was accepted in the spirit in which it was
offered, and carefully placed in a little case that contained
about a hundred volumes of different works.
As the hour approached for lifting the anchor, the neivousness
of the deacon became very apparent to the commander
of his schooner. At each instant the former was
at the latter's elbow, making some querulous suggestion,
or asking a question that betrayed the agitated and unsettled
state of his mind. It really seemed as if the old man,
at the last moment, had not the heart to part with his property,
or to trust it out of his sight. All this annoyed
Roswell Gardiner, disposed as he was, at that instant, to
regard every person and thing that in any manner pertained
to Mary Pratt, with indulgence and favour.
“You will be particular about them islands, Captain
Gar'ner, and not get the schooner ashore,” said the deacon,
for the tenth time at least. “They tell me the tide runs
like a horse in the high latitudes, and that seamen are
often stranded by them, before they know where they are.”
“Ay, ay, sir; I'll try and bear it in mind,” answered
Gardiner, vexed at being importuned so often to recollect
that which there was so little likelihood of his forgetting;
“I am an old cruiser in those seas, deacon, and know all
about the tides. Well, Mr. Hazard, what is the news of
the anchor?”
“We are short, sir, and only wait for orders to go on,
and get clear of the ground.”
“Trip, at once, sir; and so farewell to America — or to
this end of it, at least.”
“Then the keys, they tell me, are dangerous navigation,
Gar'ner, and a body needs have all his eyes about
him.”
“All places have their dangers to your sleepy navigator,
deacon; but the man who keeps his eyes open has little to
fear. Had you given us a chronometer, there would not
have been one-half the risk there will be without one.”
This had been a bone of contention between the master
of the Sea Lion and his owner. Chronometers were not,
by any means, in as general use at the period of our tale
as they are to-day; and the deacon abhorred the expense to
got one at a fourth of the customary price he might have
been tempted; but it formed no part of his principles of
saving to anticipate and prevent waste by liberality.
No sooner was the schooner released from the ground
than her sails were filled, and she went by the low spit of
sand already mentioned, with the light south-west breeze
still blowing in her favour, and an ebb tide. Everything
appeared propitious, and no vessel probably ever left home
under better omens. The deacon remained on board until
Baiting Joe, who was to act as his boatman, reminded him
of the distance and the probability that the breeze would
go down entirely with the sun. As it was, they had to
contend with wind and tide, and it would require all his
own knowledge of the eddles to get the whale-boat up to
Oyster Pond in anything like reasonable time. Thus admonished,
the owner tore himself away from his beloved
craft, giving “young Gar'ner” as many `last words' as if
he were about to be executed. Roswell had a last word on
his part, however, in the shape of a message to Mary.
“Tell Mary, deacon,” said the young sailor, in an aside,
“that I rely on her promise, and that I shall think of her,
whether it be under the burning sun of the line, or among
the ice of the antarctic.”
“Yes, yes; that's as it should be,” answered the deacon,
heartily. “I like your perseverance, Gar'ner, and hope
the gal will come round yet, and I shall have you for a nephew.
There's nothing that takes the women's minds like
money. Fill up the schooner with skins and ile, and bring
back that treasure, and you make as sure of Mary for a
wife as if the parson had said the benediction over you.”
Such was Deacon Pratt's notion of his niece, as well as
of the female sex. For months he regarded this speech as
a coup de maitre, while Roswell Gardiner forgot it in half
an hour; so much better than the uncle did the lover comprehend
the character of the niece.
The Sea Lion, of Oyster Pond, had now cast off the last
ligament which connected her with the land. She had no
pilot, none being necessary, or usual, in those waters; all
that a vessel had to do being to give Long Island a sufficient
berth in rounding its eastern extremity. The boat
remained but the ties of feeling to connect those
bold adventurers with their native country. It is true that
Connecticut, and subsequently Rhode Island, was yet visible
on one hand, and a small portion of New York on the
other; but as darkness came to close the scene, even that
means of communication was soon virtually cut off. The
light on Montauk, for hours, was the sole beacon for these
bold mariners, who rounded it about midnight, fairly meeting
the long, rolling swell of the broad Atlantic. Then the
craft might be said to be at sea for the first time.
The Sea Lion was found to perform well. She had been
constructed with an eye to comfort, as well as to sailing,
and possessed that just proportion in her hull which carried
her over the surface of the waves like a duck. This quality
is of more importance to a small than to a large vessel, for
the want of momentum renders what is termed “burying”
a very deadening process to a light craft. In this very important
particular Roswell was soon satisfied that the ship-wright
had done his duty.
As the wind still stood at south-west, the schooner was
brought upon an easy bowline, as soon as she had Montauk
light dead to windward. This new course carried her out
to sea, steering south-south-east, a little easterly, under
everything that would draw. The weather appearing settled,
and there being no signs of a change, Gardiner now
went below and turned in, leaving the care of the vessel
to the proper officer of the watch, with an order to call
him at sunrise. Fatigue soon asserted its power, and the
young man was shortly in as profound a sleep as if he had
not just left a mistress whom he almost worshipped for an
absence of two years, and to go on a voyage that probably
would expose him to more risks and suffering than any
other enterprise then attempted by sea-faring men. Our
young sailor thought not of the last at all, but he fell asleep
dreaming of Mary.
The master of the Sea Lion of Oyster Pond was called
precisely at the hour he had named. Five minutes sufficed
to bring him on deck, where he found everything as he
had left it, with the exception of the schooner itself. In
the six hours he had been below, his vessel had moved her
be seen, the American coast being very tame and unpicturesque
to the eye, as the purest patriot, if he happen to
know anything of other parts of the world, must be constrained
to admit. A low, monotonous coast, that is scarcely
visible at a distance of five leagues, is certainly not to be
named in the same breath with those glorious shores of the
Mediterranean, for instance, where nature would seem to
have exhausted herself in uniting the magnificent with the
bewitching. On this continent, or on our own portion of
it at least, we must be content with the useful, and lay no
great claims to the beautiful; the rivers and bays giving
us some compensation in their admirable commercial facilities,
for the sameness, not to say tameness, of the views.
We mention these things in passing, as a people that does
not understand its relative position in the scale of nations,
is a little apt to fall into errors that do not contribute to its
character or respectability; more especially when they
exhibit a self-love founded altogether on ignorance, and
which has been liberally fed by flattery.
The first thing a seaman does on coming on deck, after
a short absence, is to look to windward, in order to see
how the wind stands, and what are the prospects of the
weather. Then he turns his eyes aloft to ascertain what
canvass is spread, and how it draws. Occasionally, the
order of these observations is changed, the first look being
sometimes bestowed on the sails, and the second on the
clouds. Roswell Gardiner, however, cast his first glance
this morning towards the southward and westward, and
perceived that the breeze promised to be steady. On looking
aloft, he was well satisfied with the manner in which
everything drew; then he turned to the second mate, who
had the watch, whom he addressed cheerfully, and with a
courtesy that is not always observed among sailors.
“A fine morning, sir,” said Roswell Gardiner, “and a
good-bye to America. We've a long road to travel, Mr.
Green, but we've a fast boat to do it in. Here is an offing
ready made to our hands. Nothing in sight to the westward;
not so much as a coaster, even! It's too early for the outward-bound
craft of the last ebb, and too late for those that
clearer of canvass.”
“Ay, ay, sir; it does seem empty, like. Here's a chap,
however, to leeward, who appears inclined to try his rate
of sailing with us. Here he is, sir, a very little abaft the
beam; and, as near as I can make him out, he's a fore-tawsail
schooner, of about our own dimensions; if you'll
just look at him through this glass, Captain Gar'ner, you'll
see he has not only our rig, but our canvass set.”
“You are right enough, Mr. Green,” returned Roswell,
after getting his look. “He is a schooner of about our
tonnage, and under precisely our canvass. How long has
the fellow bore as he does now?”
“He came out from under Blok Island a few hours
since, and we made him by moonlight. The question with
me is, where did that chap come from? A Stunnin'ton
man would have naturally passed to windward of Blok
Island; and a Newport or Providence fellow would not
have fetched so far to windward without making a stretch
or two on purpose. That schooner has bothered me ever
since it was daylight; for I can't place him where he is
by any traverse my poor l'arnin' can work!”
“She does seem to be out of her way. Possibly it is a
schooner beating up for the Hook, and finding herself too
close in, she is standing to the southward to get an offing
again.”
“Not she, sir. She came out from behind Blok, and a
craft of her size that wanted to go to the westward, and
which found itself so close in, would have taken the first
of the flood and gone through the Race like a shot. No,
no, Captain Gar'ner; this fellow is bound south as well as
ourselves, and it is quite onaccountable how he should be
just where he is—so far to windward, or so far to leeward,
as a body might say. A south-south-east course, from any
place behind Point Judith, would have taken him off near
No Man's Land, and here he is almost in a line with Blok
Island!”
“Perhaps he is out of New London, or some of the ports
on the main, and being bound to the West Indies he has
been a little careless about weathering the island. It's no
great matter, after all.”
“It is some such matter, Captain Gar'ner, as walkin'
round a meetin'-'us' when your ar'n'd is in at the door in
front. But there was no such craft in at Stunnin'tun or
New London, as I know from havin' been at both places
within the last eight-and-forty hours.”
“You begin to make me as curious about this fellow as
you seem to be yourself, sir. And now I think the matter
all over, it is somewhat extr'or'nary he should be just where
he is. It is, however, a very easy thing to get a nearer look
at him, and it's no great matter to us, intending as we do
to make the islands off the Cape de Verde, if we do lose a
little of our weatherly position—keep the schooner away a
point, and get a small pull on your weather braces — give
her a little sheet too, fore and aft, sir. So, that will do —
keep her steady at that—south-east and by south. In two
hours we shall just about speak this out-of-the-way joker.”
As every command was obeyed, the Sea Lion was soon
running off free, her bowlines hanging loose, and all her
canvass a rap full. The change in her line of sailing
brought the sail to leeward, a little forward of her beam;
but the movement of the vessel that made the freest wind
was consequently the most rapid. In the course of half
an hour the stranger was again a little abaft the beam, and
he was materially nearer than when first seen. No change
was made in the route of the stranger, who now seemed
disposed to stand out to sea, with the wind as it was, on
an easy bowline, without paying any attention to the sail
in sight.
It was noon ere the two schooners came within hail of
each other. Of course, as they drew nearer and nearer,
it was possible for those on board of each to note the appearance,
equipments, and other peculiarities of his neighbour.
In size, there was no apparent difference between
the vessels, and there was a somewhat remarkable resemblance
in the details.
“That fellow is no West India drogger,” said Roswell
Gardiner, when less than a mile from the stranger. “He
carries a boat on deck, as we do, and has one on each
quarter, too. Can it be possible that he is bound after
seals, as well as we are ourselves!”
“I believe you're right, sir,” answered Hazard, the
look about the gentleman, if I know my own complexion.
It's odd enough, Captain Gar'ner, that two of us should
come together, out here in the offing, and both of us bound
to the other end of the 'arth!”
“There is nothing so very remarkable in that, Mr. Hazard,
when we remember that the start must be properly
timed for those who wish to be off Cape Horn in the summer
season. We shall neither of us get there much before
December, and I suppose the master of yon schooner knows
that as well as I do myself. The position of this craft
puzzles me far more than anything else about her. From
what port can a vessel come, that she should be just here,
with the wind at south-west?”
“Ay, sir,” put in Green, who was moving about the
decks, coiling ropes and clearing things away, “that's
what I tell the chief-mate. Where can a craft come from,
to be just here, with this wind, if she don't come from
Stunnin'tun. Even from Stunnin'tun she'd be out of her
way; but no such vessel has been in that port any time
these six weeks. Here, you Stimson, come this way a bit.
Didn't you tell me something of having seen a schooner at
New Bedford, that was about our build and burthen, and
that you understood had been bought for a sealer?”
“Ay, ay, sir,” answered Stimson, as bluff an old sea-dog
as ever flattened in a jib-sheet, “and that's the craft,
as I'm a thinkin', Mr. Green. She had an animal for a
figure-head, and that craft has an animal, as well as I can
judge, at this distance.”
“You are right enough there, Stephen,” cried Roswell
Gardiner, “and that animal is a seal. It's the twin-brother
of the sea lion we carry under our own bowsprit. There's
some proof in that, tastes agree sometimes, even if they do
differ generally. What became of the schooner you saw?”
“I heard, sir, that she was bought up by some Vineyard
men, and was taken across to Hum'ses Hull. They sometimes
fit out a craft there, as well as on the main. I should
have crossed myself to see what they was at, but I fell in
with Mr. Green, and shipped aboard here.”
“An adventure by which, I hope, you will not be a loser,
my hearty,” put in the captain. “And you think that is
on the Vineyard?”
“Sartain of it, sir; for I know the figure-head, and all
about her build.”
“Hand me the trumpet, Mr. Green; we shall soon be
near enough for a hail, and it will be easy to learn the
truth.”
Roswell Gardiner waited a few minutes for the two
schooners to close, and was in the very act of applying the
trumpet to his mouth, when the usual salutation was sent
across the water from the stranger. During the conversation
that now took place, the vessels gradually drew nearer
to each other, until both parties laid aside their trumpets,
and carried on the discourse with the unaided voice.
“Schooner, ahoy!” was the greeting of the stranger, and
a simple “Hilloa!” the answer.
“What schooner is that, pray?”
“The Sea Lion, of Oyster Pond, Long Island; bound
to the southward, after seal, as I suppose you know by our
outfit.”
“When did you leave Oyster Pond—and how did you
leave your owner, the good Deacon Pratt?”
“We sailed yesterday afternoon, on the first of the ebb,
and the deacon left us as we weighed anchor. He was
well, and full of hope for our luck. What schooner is that,
pray?”
“The Sea Lion, of Hum'ses Hull; bound to the southward,
after seals, as you probably knew by our outfit. Who
commands that schooner?”
“Captain Roswell Gar'ner—who commands aboard you,
pray?”
“Captain Jason Daggett,” showing himself more plainly,
by moving out of the line of the main-rigging. “I had
the pleasure of seeing you when I was on the P'int, looking
after my uncle's dunnage, you may remember, Captain
Gar'ner. 'T was but the other day, and you are not likely
to have forgotten my visit.”
“Not at all, not at all, Captain Daggett; though I had
no idea, then, that you intended to make a voyage to the
southward so soon. When did you leave the Hole, sir?”
“Day before yesterday, a'ternoon. We came out of the
Hull about five o'clock.”
“How had you the wind, sir?”
“Sou'-west, and sou'-west and by south. There has
been but little change in that, these three days.”
Roswell Gardiner muttered something to himself; but
he did not deem it prudent to utter the thoughts, that were
just then passing through his mind, aloud.
“Ay, ay,” he answered, after a moment's pause, “the
wind has stood there the whole week; but I think we shall
shortly get a change. There is an easterly feeling in the
air.”
“Waal, let it come. With this offing, we could clear
Hatteras with anything that wasn't worse than a south-easter.
There's a southerly set, in here, down the coast,
for two or three hundred miles.”
“A heavy south-easter would jam us in, here, between
the shoals, in a way I shouldn't greatly relish, sir. I like
always to get to the eastward of the Stream, as soon as I
can, in running off the land.”
“Very true, Captain Gar'ner—very true, sir. It is best
to get outside the Stream, if a body can. Once there, I
call a craft at sea. Eight-and-forty hours more of this wind
would just about carry us there. Waal, sir, as we're bound
on the same sort of v'y'ge, I'm happy to have fallen in with
you; and I see no reason why we should not be neighbourly,
and `gam' it a little, when we've nothing better to
do. I like that schooner of yours so well, that I've made
my own to look as nearly resembling her as I could. You
see our paint is exactly the same.”
“I have observed that, Captain Daggett; and you might
say the same of the figure-heads.”
“Ay, ay; when I was over on the P'int, they told me
the name of the carver, in Boston, who cut your seal, and
I sent to him to cut me a twin. “If they lay in a ship-yard,
side by side, I don't think you could tell one from
the other.”
“So it seems, sir. Pray haven't you a man aboard there
of the name of Watson?”
“Ay, ay — he's my second-mate. I know what you
mean, Captain Gar'ner—you're right enough, 'tis the same
I offered him the berth, and he thought that better than
taking a foremast lay in your craft.”
This explanation probably satisfied all who heard it,
though the truth was not more than half told. In point of
fact, Watson was engaged as Daggett's second mate before
he had ever laid eyes on Roswell Gardiner, and had been
sent to watch the progress of the work on Oyster Pond, as
has been previously stated. It was so much in the natural
order of events for a man to accept preferment when offered,
however, that even Gardiner himself blamed the delinquent
for the desertion far less than he had previously
done. In the mean time the conversation proceeded.
“You told us nothing of your having that schooner fitting,
when you were on the Point,” observed Roswell Gardiner,
whose thoughts just then happened to advert to this
particular fact.
“My mind was pretty much taken up with the affairs
of my poor uncle, I suppose, Captain Gar'ner. Death must
visit each of us, once; nevertheless, it makes us all melancholy
when he comes among friends.”
Now, Roswell Gardiner was not in the least sentimental,
nor had he the smallest turn towards indulging in moral
inferences, from ordinary events; but, this answer seemed
so proper, that it found no objection in his mind. Still,
the young man had his suspicions on the subject of the
equipment of the other schooner, and suspicions that were
now active and keen, and which led him directly to fancy
that Daggett had also some clue to the very objects he was
after himself. Singular as it may seem at first, Deacon
Pratt's interests were favourably affected by this unexpected
meeting with the Sea Lion of Holmes' Hole. From the
first, Roswell Gardiner had been indisposed to give full
credit to the statements of the deceased mariner, ascribing
no small part of his account to artifice, stimulated by a
desire to render himself important. But, now that he found
one of this man's family embarked in an enterprise similar
to his own, his views of its expediency were sensibly
changed. Perfectly familiar with the wary economy with
which every interest was regulated in that part of the world,
he did not believe a company of Martha's Vineyard men
good reasons for believing would succeed. Although it
exceeded his means to appreciate fully the information possessed
by the Vineyard folk, and covetousness did not
quicken his faculties on this subject, as they had quickened
those of the deacon, he could see enough to satisfy his
mind that either the sealing-islands, or the booty of the pirates,
or both, had a reality, in the judgments of others,
which had induced them also to risk their money in turning
their knowledge to account. The effect of this conviction
was very natural. It induced Roswell to regard the
charts, and his instructions, and all connected with his
voyage, as much more serious matters than he had originally
been inclined to do. Until now, he had thought it
well enough to let the deacon have his fancies, relying on
his own ability to obtain a cargo for the schooner, by visiting
sealing stations where he had been before; but, now,
he determined to steer at once for Daggett's Islands, as he
and his owner named the land revealed to them, and ascertain
what could be done there. He thought it probable
the other Sea Lion might wish to keep him company; but
the distance was so great, that a hundred occasions must
occur when it would be in his power to shake off such a
consort, should be deem it necessary.
For several hours the two schooners stood on in company,
keeping just without hailing distance apart, and
sailing so nearly alike as to render it hard to say which
craft had the best of it. There was nothing remarkable in
the fact that two vessels, built for the same trade, should
have a close general resemblance to each other; but it was
not common to find them so moulded, stowed, sparred and
handled, that their rate of sailing should be nearly identical.
If there was any difference, it was slightly in favour of the
Sea Lion of the Vineyard, which rather drew ahead of her
consort, if consort the other Sea Lion could be termed, in
the course of the afternoon.
It is scarcely necessary to say that many were the speculations
that were made on board these rival vessels—competitors
now for the commonest glories of their pursuits, as
well as in the ultimate objects of their respective voyages.
On the part of Roswell Gardiner and his two mates, they
of the circumstance that the Sea Lion, of the Vineyard,
should be so far out of her direct line of sailing.
“Although we have had the wind at sow-west” (sow
west always, as pronounced by every seaman, from the
Lord High Admiral of England, when there happens to be
such a functionary, down to the greenest hand on board
the greenest sealer) “for these last few days,” said Hazard,
“anybody can see we shall soon have easterly weather.
There's an easterly feel in the air, and all last night the
water had an easterly glimmer about it. Now, why a man
who came out of the Vineyard Sound, and who had nothing
to do but just to clear the west eend of his own
island, and then lay his course off yonder to the southward
and eastward, should bear up cluss (Anglicé, close) under
Blok, and stretch out to sea, for all the world as if he was
a Stunnin'tun chap, or a New Lunnoner, that had fallen a
little to leeward, is more than I can understand, Captain
Gar'ner! Depend on it, sir, there's a reason for't. Men
don't put schooners into the water, now-a-days, and give
them costly outfits, with three whale-boats, and sealin' gear
in abundance, just for the fun of making fancy traverses,
on or off a coast, like your yacht gentry, who never know
what they would be at, and who never make a v'y'ge worth
speaking on.”
“I have been turning all this over in my mind, Mr.
Hazard,” answered the young master, who was amusing
himself at the moment with strapping a small block, while
he threw many a glance at the vessel that was just as close
under his lee as comported with her sailing. “There is a
reason for it, as you say; but, I can find no other than the
fact that she has come so much out of her way, in order
to fall in with us; knowing that we were to come round
Montauk at a particular time.”
“Well, sir, that may have been her play! Men bound
the same way often wish to fall into good company, to make
the journey seem the shorter, by making it so much the
pleasanter.”
“Those fellows can never suppose the two schooners
will keep in sight of each other from forty-one degrees
north all the way to seventy south, or perhaps further
be quite out of the common way.”
“I don't know that, sir. I was once in a sealer that, do
all she could, couldn't get shut of a curious neighbour.
When seals are scarce, and the master don't know where
to look for 'em, he is usually glad to drop into some vessel's
wake, if it be only to pick up her leavin's.
“Outfits are not made on such chances as that. These
Vineyard people know where they are going as well as we
know ourselves; perhaps better.”
“There is great confidence aboard here, in the master,
Captain Gar'ner. I overheard the watch talking the matter
over early this morning; and there was but one opinion
among them, I can tell you, sir.”
“Which opinion was, Mr. Hazard—”
“That a lay aboard this craft would be worth a lay and
a half aboard any other schooner out of all America!
Sailors go partly on skill and partly on luck. I've known
hands that wouldn't ship with the best masters that ever
sailed a vessel, if they didn't think they was lucky as well
as skilful.”
“Ay, ay, it's all luck! Little do these fellows think of
Providence — or of deserving, or undeserving. Well, I
hope the schooner will not disappoint them—or her master
either. But, whaling and sealing, and trusting to the
chances of the ocean, and our most flattering hopes, may
mislead us after all.”
“Ay, ay, sir; nevertheless, Captain Gar'ner has a name,
and men will trust to it!”
Our young master could not but be flattered at this,
which came at a favourable moment to sustain the resolutions
awakened by the competition with the rival schooner.
Although so obviously competitors, and that in a matter of
trade, the interest which above all others is apt to make
men narrow-minded and hostile to each other, though the
axiom would throw this particular reproach on doctors,
there were no visible signs that the two vessels did not
maintain the most amicable relations. As the day advanced
the wind fell, and after many passages of nautical compliments,
by means of signals and the trumpet, Roswell
Gardiner fairly lowered a boat into the water, and
schooner.
Each of these little vessels was well provided with boats,
and those of the description in common use among whalers.
A whale-boat differs from the ordinary jolly-boat, launch,
or yawl—gigs, barges, dinguis, &c. &c., being exclusively
for the service of vessels of war—in the following particulars:
viz. — It is sharp at both ends, in order that it may
`back off,' as well as `pull on;' it steers with an oar, instead
of with a rudder, in order that the bows may be
thrown round to avoid danger when not in motion; it is
buoyant, and made to withstand the shock of waves at
both ends; and it is light and shallow, though strong, that
it may be pulled with facility. When it is remembered that
one of these little egg-shells — little as vessels, though of
good size as boats — is often dragged through troubled
waters at the rate of ten or twelve knots, and frequently at
even a swifter movement, one can easily understand how
much depends on its form, buoyancy and strength. Among
seamen, it is commonly thought that a whale-boat is the
safest craft of the sort in which men can trust themselves
in rough water.
Captain Daggett received his guest with marked civility,
though in a quiet, eastern way. The rum and water were
produced, and a friendly glass was taken by one after the
other. The two masters drank to each other's success, and
many a conventional remark was made between them on
the subject of sea-lions, sea-elephants, and the modes of
capturing such animals. Even Watson, semi-deserter as
he was, was shaken cordially by the hand, and his questionable
conduct overlooked. The ocean has many of the
aspects of eternity, and often disposes mariners to regard
their fellow-creatures with an expansiveness of feeling suited
to their common situations. Its vastness reminds them
of the time that has neither beginning nor end; its ceaseless
movement, of the never-tiring impulses of human passions;
and its accidents and dangers, of the Providence
which protects all alike, and which alone prevents our being
abandoned to the dominion of chance.
Roswell Gardiner was a kind-hearted man, moreover,
and was inclined to judge his fellows leniently. Thus it
just as frank and sincere as that he bestowed on Captain
Daggett himself.
| CHAPTER VIII. The sea lions, or, The lost sealers | |