17. CHAPTER XVII.
IN HIGH SPIRITS, THEY PUSH ON FOR THE TERRA INCOGNITA.
There were now fourteen notches on the loom of the
Skyeman's oar:—So many days since we had pushed from
the fore-chains of the Arcturion. But as yet, no floating
bough, no tern, noddy, nor reef-bird, to denote our proximity
to land. In that long calm, whither might not the currents
have swept us?
Where we were precisely, we knew not; but according
to our reckoning, the loose estimation of the knots run every
hour, we must have sailed due west but little more than
one hundred and fifty leagues; for the most part having
encountered but light winds, and frequent intermitting calms,
besides that prolonged one described. But spite of past calms
and currents, land there must be to the westward. Sun,
compass, stout hearts, and steady breezes, pointed our prow
thereto. So courage! my Viking, and never say drown!
At this time, our hearts were much lightened by discovering
that our water was improving in taste. It seemed to
have been undergoing anew that sort of fermentation, or
working, occasionally incident to ship water shortly after
being taken on board. Sometimes, for a period, it is more
or less offensive to taste and smell; again, however, becoming
comparatively limpid.
But as our water improved, we grew more and more
miserly of so priceless a treasure.
And here it may be well to make mention of another
little circumstance, however unsentimental. Thorough-paced
tar that he was, my Viking was an inordinate consumer of
the Indian weed. From the Arcturion, he had brought
along with him a small half-keg, at bottom impacted with
a solitary layer of sable Negrohead, fossil-marked, like the
primary stratum of the geologists. It was the last tier of
his abundant supply for the long whaling voyage upon which
he had embarked upwards of three years previous. Now
during the calm, and for some days after, poor Jarl's accustomed
quid was no longer agreeable company. To pun:
he eschewed his chew. I asked him wherefore. He replied
that it puckered up his mouth, above all provoked
thirst and had somehow grown every way distasteful. I
was sorry; for the absence of his before ever present wad
impaired what little fullness there was left in his cheek;
though, sooth to say, I no longer called upon him as of yore
to shift over the enormous morsel to starboard or larboard,
and so trim our craft.
The calm gone by, once again my sea-tailor plied needle
and thread; or turning laundress, hung our raiment to dry
on oars peaked obliquely in the thole-pins. All of which
tattered pennons, the wind being astern, helped us gayly
on our way; as jolly poor devils, with rags flying in the
breeze, sail blithely through life; and are merry although
they are poor!
