Captain Dunning went below, and looking into Ailie’s berth, nodded his wet head several times, and smiled with his damp visage benignly—which acts, however well meant and kindly they might be, were, under the circumstances, quite unnecessary, seeing that the child was sound asleep. The captain then dried his head and face with a towel about as rough as the mainsail of a seventy-four, and with a violence that would have rubbed the paint off the figurehead of the Red Eric. Then he sat down to his chart, and having pondered over it for some minutes, he went to the foot of the companion-ladder and roared up— “Lay the course nor’-nor’-east-and-by-nor’-half-nor’, Mr Millons.”
To which Mr Millons replied in an ordinary tone, “Ay, ay, sir,” and then roared— “Lay her head nor’-nor’-east-and-by-nor’-half-nor’,” in an unnecessarily loud and terribly fierce tone of voice to the steersman, as if that individual were in the habit of neglecting to obey orders, and required to be perpetually threatened in what may be called a tone of implication.
The steersman answered in what, to a landsman, would have sounded as a rather amiable and forgiving tone of voice— “Nor’-nor’-east-and-by-nor’-half-nor’ it is, sir;” and thereupon the direction of the ship’s head was changed, and the Red Eric, according to Tim Rokens, “bowled along” with a stiff breeze on the quarter, at the rate of ten knots, for the west coast of Africa.
Chapter Nine.
Rambles on Shore, and Strange Things and Ceremonies Witnessed There.
Variety is charming. No one laying claim to the smallest amount of that very uncommon attribute, common-sense, will venture to question the truth of that statement. Variety is so charming that men and women, boys and girls, are always, all of them, hunting after it. To speak still more emphatically on this subject, we venture to affirm that it is an absolute necessity of animal nature. Were any positive and short-sighted individual to deny this position, and sit down during the remainder of his life in a chair and look straight before him, in order to prove that he could live without variety, he would seek it in change of position. If he did not do that, he would seek it in change of thought. If he did not do that, he would die!
Fully appreciating this great principle of our nature, and desiring to be charmed with a little variety, Tim Rokens and Phil Briant presented themselves before Captain Dunning one morning about a week after the storm, and asked leave to go ashore. The reader may at first think the men were mad, but he will change his opinion when we tell him that four days after the storm in question the Red Eric had anchored in the harbour formed by the mouth of one of the rivers on the African coast, where white men trade with the natives for bar-wood and ivory, and where they also carry on that horrible traffic in negroes, the existence of which is a foul disgrace to humanity.
“Go ashore!” echoed Captain Dunning. “Why, if you all go on at this rate, we’ll never get ready for sea. However, you may go, but don’t wander too far into the interior, and look out for elephants and wild men o’ the woods, boys—keep about the settlements.”