“Well, here’s a fifty-cent piece, and you go aft and make your chart while I keep my eyes and ears open toward the water for you.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Dick, and ran aft with the fifty-cent piece. First he drew the circle and then made two lines crossing each other through the center at right angles. The whole circle represented the course of the stars in twenty-four hours, and each quarter, of course, would represent six hours. He made just a dot for the North Star, close to the center, and then placed the Great Dipper, with its pointers, in the right position at one extremity of the circle, and “Cassiopeia”, in the shape of a “W”, nearly opposite to it, on the other side, in this way:
1.30 A.M. 7.30 P.M.
“Now,” thought he, “if I get a chance to-night before prayers, I’ll make another sketch then. That’ll be about eighteen or nineteen hours from now, and they ought to have turned about three-quarters of the way round the circle by that time.” He then took a look at his watch, and found he had three minutes to wait before ringing four bells at two o’clock; so he returned the silver coin to Mr. Miller and took his station near the bell, watch in hand.
Meantime Mr. Miller went below, and Dick slipped down the berth deck ladder to call his successor, who happened to be Tom Sheffield. They came on deck together and Tom rubbed his eyes sleepily.
“See,” said Dick, as he turned to go down the ladder to his bunk, “if you want to look at something nice, when you’ve got through with the log, just crawl up the fore-rigging to the crosstrees and look around. So long!”
Next morning the wind was blowing moderately from the northwest, the sky was bright and clear, but there was quite a heavy sea rolling from the effects of the storm. Everything was favorable to an early start, and the weather was especially good for getting around the Cape, for no seamen like to pass anywhere near Pollock Rip and the other rocks on the eastern side in thick or foggy weather. After they were out of the harbor, and had passed Long Point Light, they beat up against the wind for a couple of hours till they got about three miles outside of Race Point, where the sheets were slackened and the ship ran free. It was not altogether a comfortable motion for the green hands; for, as they were running with the wind, they did not feel the breeze in their faces, and a fresh breeze in your face is a great thing for seasickness; but the air, such as it was, was cool and clear, and the ship was all alive with the rolling motion of the waves. The wind held in about the same direction pretty much all day; and, having made a particularly early start, by four o’clock in the afternoon they were off the southeast corner of the Cape.
They had set sail at four o’clock that morning, and Clarence Ellsworth was on watch with his section until after breakfast. From eight o’clock till noon, Ronald Jones—the new “B. M.”—came on; but, much to Mr. Miller’s disappointment, he did not seem to be doing any better, so that even his messenger was tardy with the ship’s bell.
The westerly wind seemed to put a keen edge on all the appetites aboard, and at dinner the conversation was quite as lively as the knives and forks.