Miles Wallingford eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 608 pages of information about Miles Wallingford.

Miles Wallingford eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 608 pages of information about Miles Wallingford.

The frigate followed the cutter, though she passed us outside, even nearer than her consort.  I got my first accurate notion of the weight of the gale, by seeing this large ship drive past us, under a reefed fore-sail, and a close-reefed main-top-sail, running nearly dead before it.  As she came down, she took a sheer, like a vessel scudding in the open ocean; and, at one moment, I feared she would plunge directly into us, though she minded her helm in time to clear everything.  A dozen officers on board her were looking at us, from her gangway, her quarter-deck guns, and rigging.  All were compelled to hold on with firm grasps; and wonder seemed painted in every countenance.  I could see their features for half a minute only, or even a less time; but I could discern this expression in each face.  Some looked up at our spars, as if to ascertain whether all were right; while others looked back at the head-land they had just rounded, like those who examined the roadstead.  Most shook their heads, as remarks passed from one to the other.  The captain, as I took him to be, spoke us.  “What are you doing here?” came to me through a trumpet, plainly enough; but answering was out of the question.  Before I could even get a trumpet to my mouth, the frigate had gone foaming by, and was already beyond the reach of the voice.  Heads appeared over her taffrail for some time, and we fancied these man-of-war’s men regarded us as the instructed are apt to regard the ignorant, whom they fancy to be in danger.  Marble sneered a little at the curiosity betrayed by these two crafts; but, as for myself, it caused great uneasiness.  I fancied they acted like those who were acquainted with the coast, manifesting surprise at seeing a stranger anchored in the berth we occupied.

I slept little that night.  Marble kept me company most of the time, but Neb and Diogenes were as tranquil as if sleeping on good French mattresses—­made of hair, not down—­within the walls of a citadel.  Little disturbed these negroes, who followed our fortunes with the implicit reliance that habit and education had bred in them, as it might be, in and in.  In this particular, they were literally dyed in the wool, to use one of the shop expressions so common among us.

There was a little relaxation in the force of the gale in the middle of the night; but, with the return of day, came the winds howling down upon us, in a way that announced a more than common storm.  All hands of us were now up, and paying every attention to the vessel.  My greatest concern had been lest some of the sails should get adrift, for they had been furled by few and fatigued men.  This did not happen, however, our gaskets and lashings doing all of their duty.  We got our breakfasts, therefore, in the ordinary way, and Marble and myself went and stood on the forecastle, to watch the signs of the times, like faithful guardians, who were anxious to get as near as possible to the danger.

Copyrights
Project Gutenberg
Miles Wallingford from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.