“Are you quite sure that you’ll ever see Jim again, or that you’ll ever want your best bonnet?” replied I.
“That’s true. If one’s body is to be tossed about by green waves, it’s little matter whether there’s a bonnet or shawl on. Where are we, do you know?”
“I can just see the land out there,” replied I, pointing astern. “The sea is smooth; I think we could ship the foremast, and get sail upon her.”
The young woman stood up in the boat.
“Yes,” said she, “I’m pretty steady; I think we could. Last night in the dark and the tossing sea I could do nothing, but now I can. What a blessing is daylight to cowards like me—I am only afraid in the dark. We must put some sail upon the boat, or nobody will see us. What did you do with the bladder of liquor?”
“Threw it overboard,” replied I.
“Had you courage to do that?—and watching through the the night so wet and cold. Well you did right—I could not have done it. Oh! that liquor—that liquor; I wish there wasn’t such a thing in the world, but it’s too late now. When I first married James Pearson, and the garland was hung to the main-stay of the frigate, nobody could persuade me to touch it, not even James himself, whom I loved so much. Instead of quarrelling with me for not drinking it, as he used to do, he now quarrels with me for drinking the most. If you’ll come forward, sir, and help me, we’ll soon get up the foremast. This is it, you see, with the jib passed round it. Jim often says that I’d make a capital sailor, if I’d only enter in man’s clothes—but as I tell him, I should be put up at the gangway, for not being sober, before I’d been on board a week.”
We contrived to ship the mast, and set the jib and foresail. As soon as the sheets were hauled aft, my companion took the steering lines, saying, “I know how to manage her well enough, now it’s daylight, and I’m quite sober. You must be very tired, sir; so sit down on the thwart, or lie down if you please, and take a nap; all’s safe enough now—see, we lie up well for the land;” and such was the case, for she had brought the boat to the wind, and we skimmed over the waves at the rate of three or four miles an hour. I had no inclination to sleep; I baled the boat out thoroughly, and put the baskets and boxes into some kind of order. I then sat down on the thwarts, first looking round for a vessel in sight; but seeing none, I entered into conversation with my companion.
“What is your name?” said I.
“Peggy Pearson; I have my marriage lines to show: they can throw nothing in my face, except that I’m fond of liquor, God forgive me.”