The night was clear, and the stars shone out brilliantly as the light craft skimmed over the water, and a fragment of a descending and waning moon threw its soft beams upon the snow-white sail. The vessel, which had no neck, was full of baskets, which had contained grapes and various fruits brought from the ancient granary of Rome, still as fertile and as luxuriant as ever. The crew consisted of the padrone, two men and a boy; the three latter, with their gregos, or night greatcoats with hoods, sitting forward before the sail, with their eyes fixed on the land as they flew past point after point, thinking perhaps of their wives, or perhaps of their sweethearts, or perhaps not thinking at all.
The padrone remained aft at the helm, offering every politeness to our two young gentlemen, who only wished to be left alone. At last they requested the padrone to give them gregos to lie down upon, as they wished to go to sleep. He called the boy to take the helm, procured them all they required, and then went forward. And our two midshipmen laid down looking at the stars above them, for some minutes, without exchanging a word. At last Jack commenced.
“I have been thinking, Gascoigne, that this is very delightful. My heart bounds with the vessel, and it almost appears to me as if the vessel herself was rejoicing in her liberty. Here she is capering over the waves instead of being tied by the nose with a cable and anchor.”
“That’s a touch of the sentimental, Jack,” replied Gascoigne; “but she is no more free than she was when at anchor, for she now is forced to act in obedience to her steersman, and go just where he pleases. You may just as well say that a horse, if taken out of the stable, is free, with the curb and his rider on his back.”
“That’s a touch of the rational, Ned, which destroys the illusion. Never mind, we are free, at all events. What machines we are on board of a man-of-war! We walk, talk, eat, drink, sleep, and get up, just like clock-work; we are wound up to go the twenty-four hours, and then wound up again; just like old Smallsole does the chronometers.”
“Very true, Jack; but it does not appear to me, that, hitherto, you have kept very good time: you require a little more regulating,” said Gascoigne.
“How can you expect any piece of machinery to go well, so damnably knocked about as a midshipman is?” replied our hero.
“Very true, Jack; but sometimes you don’t keep any time, for you don’t keep any watch. Mr Asper don’t wind you up. You don’t go at all.”
“No; because he allows me to go down; but still I do go, Ned.”
“Yes, to your hammock—but it’s no go with old Smallsole, if I want a bit of caulk. But, Jack, what do you say—shall we keep watch to-night?”