“It is the fashion, Mr Morton,” said Hardy, the officer, “among many of the sticklers for propriety, to rail at the use of what they have no relish for themselves, and to denounce smoking as a low and ungentlemanly practice; but, in spite of all their squeamish objections, I know nothing more soothing and refreshing, after a night of toil and excitement like this, than a mild and genuine Havannah. Surely Nature would not be so lavish of her blessings, if it had not been intended that we were to enjoy them in moderation.
“Ah! I thought so—no rest for the wicked,” continued he, starting up, as the shrill pipe of the boatswain rose far above the noise of the storm; “there it is! ‘All hands down top-gallant masts and yards!’ Finish your cigar, Mr Morton, and douce the glim when you have done. I must be off.”
“I will go, too,” said Morton; “I am too much excited to sleep.”
The night was now pitch dark, the wind had increased to a strong gale, and the ship was rolling “gunnels to,” in the long heavy sea; bright flashes of lightning, every now and then, threw a momentary glare over the gloomy heavens, and the thunder rolled in loud and long-continued peals.
“Didn’t I tell you, Jem, what ’ud come of sailing on a Friday? and we haven’t seen the end on’t yet,” said Bill Halliday, one of the men we before mentioned, as he was running up the main rigging, and a flash of lightning shewed him his messmate beside him.
“Oh, never say ‘die,’ while there’s a shot in the locker, Bill; we’ll weather many a Friday’s sailing yet.”
Just then the ship gave a heavy lurch to windward; Jem heard a loud and startling cry close beside him, and, looking downwards through the darkness, a sudden flash shewed him his messmate struggling for life on the surface of the water; he had slipped his foot, poor fellow, and, amid the roar of the waters and the howling of the gale, the noise of his plunge was unheard by those on deck. His messmate, trembling with horror, raised the cry of “A man overboard!” but, alas! in vain; in such a night and such a sea, it would have been madness to risk the lives of the many for the one. The next flash lighted the sea far and near, and all eyes were anxiously bent upon the water; but nothing was visible but the dark heaving mass, with the white foam driving over its surface; the ravenous waves had done their work quickly and mercifully.
Soon after this, as if satisfied with this sacrifice to its fury, the gale began gradually to moderate; and, before next night, the ship was again “all a-taunto,” and standing to the southward, with a leading wind, under single-reefed topsails, and topgallantsails. The following day, the weather was so fine, and the water so smooth, that the ladies, who had not hitherto ventured out of their cabins, made their appearance at the cuddy table. At dinner, Morton was seated nearly opposite to a remarkably fine turkey, and his eyes were constantly wandering in that direction, but whether for the purpose of admiring its beauties, or those of a young lady seated behind it, it was difficult to distinguish. His contemplation however, either of the dead or the living beauty, seemed to have diverted his thoughts from the indulgence of his appetite.
“Mr Morton, a glass of wine?” said the captain; “you seem to be contented with looking at that fine turkey.”