But at last came a day when the meridian1 of Staten Island was passed under our counter; and when eight bells had been made, the ship’s course was altered, and we were once more heading for the sun with a strong wind on the beam, the ocean working in long sapphire2 lines of creaming billows, the ship leaning down under a maintopgallant sail, with a single reef in the topsail under it, and the sailors going about their work with cheerful countenances3; for this northward4 course made us all feel that we were really and truly homeward bound at last.
It was thought that our passage would be a smart one, as good a run as any on record, for though, to be sure, we had been detained a bit off the Horn by the frequent heaving to of the ship, yet we had traversed the long stretch of the South Pacific very briskly, whilst for a long eight days now there blew a strong, steady beam wind that drove us through it at an average of two hundred[228] and fifty miles in the twenty-four hours. With less weight in the breeze we should have done better still. We could never show more than a maintopgallant sail to it, and the high seas were by no means helpful to the heels of the ship. Yet Cape5 Horn was speedily a long way astern of us; the horrible weather of it was forgotten as pain is. Every night, stars which had become familiar to us were sinking in the south, and new constellations6 soaring out of the horizon over the bows. It was delightful7 to handle the ropes, and find them supple8 as coir instead of stiff as iron bars, to pick up the sails, and feel them soft again to the touch instead of that hardness of sheets of steel which they gathered to them in the frosty parallels. The sun shone with a warmth that was every day increasing in ardency9; the dry decks sparkled crisply like the white firm sand of the sea-beach. The live-stock grew gay and hearty10 with the Atlantic temperature: the cocks crew cheerily, the hens cackled with vigour11, the sheep bleated12 with voices which filled our salted, weather-toughened heads with visions of green meadows, of fields enamelled with daisies, of hedges full of nosegays, and of twinkling green branches melodious13 with birds.
We slipped into the south-east trade wind, and bore away for the equator under fore14-topmast studding-sail.One moonlight night a fancy to view the ship from the bowsprit entered my mind. I went on to the forecastle and crawled out on to the jibboom,[231] and there sat riding a-cock-horse of it, holding by the outer jib-stay. The moon shone brightly over the maintopsail yard-arm; all sail was on the ship, and she was leaning over from the fresh breeze like a yacht in a racing15 match. The moonlight made her decks resemble ivory, and stars of silver glory sparkled fitfully along them in the glass and brass16 work. The whole figure of the noble fabric17 seemed to be rushing at me; the foam18 poured like steam from her stem that was smoking and sheering through the ocean surge. Over my head soared the great jibs, like the wings of some mighty19 spirit. My heart leapt up in me to the rise and fall of the spar that I jockeyed. It was like sitting at one end of a leviathan see-saw, and every upheaval20 was as exhilarating as a flight through the air. Ah, thought I, as I leisurely21 made my way inboards, if sailoring were always as pleasant as this, I believe I should wish to continue at sea all my life.
It was two days afterwards, at about half-past six in the morning watch, that a fellow in the foretop hailed the deck and reported a black object on the lee-bow which, he said, didn’t look like a ship, though it was a deal too big for a long-boat. I was staring wistfully in the direction the man[232] had indicated. Mr. Johnson noticed this, and said, with a kind smile (I seemed to be a favourite of his, maybe because I was but a little chap to be at sea, otherwise I do not know what particularly entitled me to his kindness)—
“Here, Rockafellar, take my glass into the foretop, and see what you can make of the object.”
I was very proud of this commission, and not a little pleased to escape even for a short spell the grimy, prosaic22 business of scrubbing the poop. The telescope was a handsome instrument in a case, the strap23 of which I threw over my shoulder; and, slipping on a pair of shoes (for I never could endure the pressure of the ratlines against the soles of my naked feet), I got into the shrouds24 and arrived in the foretop.
“Where is it?” said I to a man who stood peering seawards, with a hairy tar-stained hand protecting his eyes.
He pointed25.
I levelled the glass, and in an instant beheld26 the black hull27 of a ship lying deep in the water, rolling heavily, yet very sluggishly28. All three masts were gone, and a few splinters forking out between her knight-heads were all that remained of her bowsprit.
The sailor asked leave to look, and putting his eye to the telescope, exclaimed—
“Here’s a bad job, I lay. She’s a settling down[233] too. She’ll be out of sight under water afore we’re abreast29, or I’m a Kanaka,” by which he meant a South Sea Islander.
“HE POINTED.”
I made my way to the deck, and reported what I had seen to the chief mate. It was not twenty[234] minutes after this when a loud cry arose from the forecastle, followed by a rush of men to the rail, to see what the fellow who had called out was pointing at. We of the poop, forgetting the ship’s discipline in the excitement raised by the shout and headlong hurry of men forward, ran to the side to look also, and we saw close against the lee-bow of the ship, fast sliding along past the side, the figure of a man in a lifebuoy. He was naked to the waist; his arms overhung the circle, but his form, leaning forward, had so tilted31 the buoy30 that his head lay under water. He rose and fell upon the seas, which sometimes threw him a little way out and then submerged him again, with his long hair streaming like grass at the bottom of a shallow running stream.
The sailors along the waist and on the forecastle were looking aft, as though they expected that the mate would back the topsail yard and send a boat; but the man that had gone past was dead as dead can be: even my young eyes could have told that, though his head had been above water all the time.
“It is a recent wreck32, I expect, sir,” I heard Mr. Johnson say to the captain, who stepped on deck at that moment. “The poor fellow didn’t look to have been in the water long.”
“There was no doubt he was a corpse33?” inquired the captain, to whose sight the form of the drowned man was invisible, so rapidly had it veered34 astern[235] into the troubled and concealing35 foam of our wake.
“Oh yes, sir,” answered Mr. Johnson. “His face only lifted now and again.”
At eight bells the wreck was in sight from the poop, but at a long distance. I went below to get some breakfast, and then returned, too much interested in the object that had hove into view to stay in the cabin, though I had been on deck since four o’clock, and had scarcely slept more than two hours during the middle watch.
Our ship’s helm had been slightly shifted, so that we might pass the wreck close. As we advanced, fragments of the torn and mutilated fabric passed us; portions of yards, of broken masts with the attached gear snaking out from it, casks, hatch-covers, and so forth36. It was easy to guess, by the look of these things, that they had been wrenched37 from the hull by a hurricane. I noticed a length of sail-cloth attached to a yard, with a knot in it so tied that I did not need to have been at sea many months to guess that nothing could have done it but some furious ocean blast.
We all stood looking with eagerness towards the wreck—the ladies with opera-glasses to their eyes, the gentlemen with telescopes; the captain aft was constantly viewing her through his glass, and the second mate, who had charge of the deck, watched her through the shrouds of the main rigging with[236] the intentness of a pirate whose eyes are upon a chase.
The fact was, it was impossible to tell whether there might be human beings aboard of her, let alone the sort of pathetic interest one found in the sight of the lonely object rolling out yonder in a drowning way amidst the sparkling morning waters of the blue immensity of the deep. Only a little while ago, I thought to myself as I surveyed her, she was a noble ship; her white sails soared, she sat like a large summer cloud upon the water, the foam sparkl............