Nothing occurred after this to break the monotony of the voyage, beyond a school of whales being noticed blowing in the distance away to the windward one day, about a week after the change of wind.
“There she spouts!” called out a man who was up in the fore cross-trees, overhauling some of the running gear; but the hail only occasioned a little temporary excitement, for the animals were much too far off for pursuit and, besides, Captain Brown wished to land the brothers and clear his ship of all cargo before going whaling on his own account.
This consummation, however, was not long distant; for some sixteen days or so after they had turned their backs on the South American coast, the skipper told Fritz he hoped to be at Tristan on the morrow. This was when he and the captain were having their usual quarter-deck walk in the first watch, the evening of the same day on which they passed the school of whales.
“Yes, sirree,” he said, “we’ve run down to 36 degrees South latitude, I guess, an’ wer ’bout 13 degrees West when I took the sun at noon; so I kalkerlate, if the wind don’t fail an’ the shep keeps on goin’ as she is, which is bootiful, I reckon, why we’ll fetch Tristan nigh on breakfus-time to-morrow,—yes, sir!”
“Indeed!” exclaimed Fritz. He did not think they were anywhere near the place yet; for, although it was more than two months since they had left Narraganset Bay, the ship appeared to sail so sluggishly and the voyage to be so tedious, that he would not have been surprised to hear some day from the captain that they would not reach their destination until somewhere about Christmas time!
“Ya-as, really, I guess so, mister. No doubt you’re a bit flustered at gettin’ thaar so soon; but the Pilot’s Bride’s sich a powerful clipper thet we’ve kinder raced here, an’ arrove afore we wer due, I reckon!”
The skipper innocently took Fritz’s expression of surprise to be a compliment to the ship’s sailing powers; and so Fritz would not undeceive him by telling him his real opinion about the vessel. It would have been cruel to try and weaken his belief in the lubberly old whaler, every piece of timber in whose hull he loved with a fatherly affection almost equal to that with which he regarded his daughter Celia.
Fritz therefore limited himself to an expression of delight at the speedy termination of their voyage, without hazarding any comment on the Pilot’s Bride’s progress; by which means he avoided either hurting the old skipper’s feelings or telling an untruth, which he would otherwise have had to do.
He was undoubtedly glad to have advanced so far in their undertaking; for, once arrived at Tristan d’Acunha, a few more days would see them landed on Inaccessible Island, when, he and Eric would really begin their crusoe life of seal-catching and “making the best” of it, in solitary state.
Wasn’t he up on deck early next morning, turning out of his bunk as soon as he heard the first mate calling the captain at four bells—although, when he got there, he found Eric had preceded him, he having charge of the morning watch and having been up two hours before himself!