The woman took out from where it was secreted in her dress, a bladder containing spirits; she opened the mouth of it, and poured out a portion into one of the milk-cans; having drunk herself, she handed it to me, but not feeling inclined, and being averse to spirits, I rejected it, “Not just now,” said I, “by-and-by perhaps.”
During the time of this conversation we were swept by a strong tide and strong wind right out of the anchorage at Spithead; the sea was very high, and dashed into the boat, so that I was continually baling to keep it free; the night was as dark as pitch; we could see nothing except the lights of the vessels which we had left far away from us, and they were now but as little twinkles as we rose upon the waves. The wind roared, and there was every appearance of a heavy gale.
“Little hopes of our weathering this storm,” said the woman; “we shall soon be swamped if we do not put her before the wind. I’ll see if I cannot find the lines.”
She did so after a time, and by means of a rudder put the boat before the wind; the boat then took in much less water, but ran at a swift rate through the heavy sea.
“There, we shall do better now; out to sea we go, that’s clear,” said the woman; “and before daylight we shall be in the Channel, if we do not fill and go down; and then, the Lord have mercy upon us, that’s all! Won’t you take a drop?” continued she, pouring out some spirits into the can.
As I felt very cold, I did not this time refuse. I drank a small quantity of the spirits; the woman took off the remainder, which, with what she had previously drunk, began to have an effect upon her.
“That’s right, my little Trojan,” said she, and she commenced singing. “A long pull, a strong pull, and a pull altogether; in spite of wind and weather, boys, in spite of wind and weather. Poor Jem,” continued she, “he’ll be disappointed; he made sure of being glorious to-night, and I made sure to sleep by his side—now he’ll be quite sober—and I’ll be food for fishes; it’s a cold bed that I shall turn into before morning, that’s certain. Hand me the cakes, boy, if you can fumble them out; the more we fill ourselves, the less room for salt water. Well, then, wind and waves are great bullies; they fly slap back in a fright when they bang against a great ship; but when they get hold of a little boat like this, how they leap and topple in, as if they made sure of us (here a wave dashed into the boat). Yes, that’s your sort. Come along, swamp a little boat you washy cowards, it’s only a woman and a boy. Poor Jim, he’ll miss me something, but he’ll miss the liquor more; who cares? Let’s have another drop.”
“Give me the lines, then,” said I, as I perceived she was letting them go, “or we shall be broadside to the waves again.”
I took the rudder lines from her, and steered the boat, while she again resorted to the bladder of spirits.
“Take another sip,” said she, after she had filled the milk-can; “it won’t harm you.”