It was something new to the crew of the “Coal-Coffin” to be thus checked in an enthusiastic cheer, and to be rebuked by the object of their admiration for not being able to swim.
Deep and long was the discussion they had that evening around the windlass on this subject. Some held that it was absurd to blame men for not being able, “when p’raps they couldn’t if they wor to try.” Others thought that they might have tried first before saying that “p’raps they couldn’t.” One admitted that it was nothing but laziness that had prevented him from learning, whereupon another opined that dirtiness had something to do with it too. But all agreed in wishing earnestly that they had learned the noble and useful art, and in regretting deeply that they had not been taught it when young.
The boy, who formed one of the crew, silently congratulated himself that he was young, and resolved in his own mind that he would learn as soon as possible.
The sun set in the west, and the evening star arose to cheer the world with her presence, while the greater luminary retired. Slowly the day retreated and dusky night came on. One by one the stars shone out, faintly at first, as if too modest to do more than glimmer, but stronger and brighter, and more numerous by degrees, until the whole sky became like a great resplendent milky way.
Still there was no evidence that a double-reef in the mainsail was necessary; no indication that the weather-glass had told a truthful tale.
Chapter Thirteen.
The Storm, and its Consequences.
It came at length with awful speed and fury.