“Going to blow, is it?” I said, to the mate, as he walked by me.
“Yes, a little,” he replied, as he proceeded to give some order to the sailors.
A couple of hours passed by, and I saw no indications of a storm. It had grown a trifle cloudy; and the wind had increased but little.
“We won’t have that gale, after all, will we?” I remarked, as we sat at dinner.
The captain laughed. “Give it time,” said he. “The barometer usually warns in advance. If you don’t see a fresh breeze before morning, there will be a big change in the weather somewhere.”
I said no more.
After dinner I was on deck, and, observing that the sailors were working the pumps, I said to Mr. Gorham, the second mate:
“The ship leaks a little, does it?”
“O, yes,” he replied, indifferently: “all ships leak more or less.”
“I hope ours will leak less, then, if we get in a gale,” I said.