“I should like to see land,” he said, “but I wouldn’t like to land in that way. It reminds me of an old lady who, traveling by cars for the first time, was upset in a collision. As she crawled out of the window, she asked, innocently: ‘Do you always stop this way?’”
“There are dangers on land as well as on the sea,” said the mate, “as your story proves; though one is not so likely to realize them. In our present circumstances, there is one thing I earnestly hope for.”
“What is that?”
“That we may not have another storm. I fear, in her dismantled condition, the Nantucket would have a poor chance of outliving it, particularly as we have no one but Jack and myself to do seamen’s work.”
Mr. Stubbs walked thoughtfully away.
Harry, who had seen him talking with the mate, asked him what the nature of the conversation was.
Mr. Stubbs told him.
“The fact is, Harry,” he said, “we are in a critical condition. Whether we are ever to see old terry firmy again”—Mr. Stubbs was not a classical scholar—“seems a matter of doubt.”
“And the worst of it is,” said Harry, “there seems to be nothing you or I can do to increase our chances of safety.”
“No, unless we could manage to see a ship which the chief officer had overlooked. That, I take it, is not very likely.”