CHAPTER III
ON THE BANKS
Once past the lighthouse, and with a fair wind, the Narwhal’s motor was stopped, sheets and braces were trimmed, and, heeling gently to her immense square foretop and foretopgallant sails and the vast expanse of her fore and mainsails the schooner plunged eastward.
“Golly, isn’t she a fine old ship!” cried Tom, as he stepped to the lee rail and watched the hissing froth speed past. “Why, she’s going like a yacht and there’s not much wind either!”
“Used to was the fastest hooker ’round the Cape,” rumbled Cap’n Pem.
“And spreads enough canvas to drive a clipper ship,” added Captain Edwards, glancing at the straining spars and rigging. “Pem, you’ll have to keep a weather eye liftin’ an’ be ready to shorten sail at the first sign of a blow.”
“Yes, sir,” agreed the other, “that there’s the wust o’ these here torpsa’l schooners—too derned much canvas aloft. It’ll drive ’em like blazes in a light win’, but keeps the crew everlastin’ly on the jump a-reefin’ and short’nin’ sail. Reckon soon’s ever we get no’thard o’ the Banks, we’d be a leedle mite snugger if we housed that there to’gallant sail.”
“Yes, better do that,” agreed the skipper, “we won’t need it in the ice.”
Now that the boys had a chance to look about, they noticed for the first time that there were no swarthy-faced Portuguese among the crew.
“Never take ’em to the Arctic,” Mr. Kemp told them in reply to their question. “Ain’t no good there—just shiver and freeze like a lot of frozen turnips.”
“Is it really as cold as that?” asked Jim.