It was a little before the hour of noon. The sea was a wide field of throbbing blue, laced with foam, every little billow curling along the course the ship was pursuing, and on high was a wide and sparkling heaven of azure, along which many small clouds, like puffs from musketry, were sailing. Warmth but no heat was in the sunshine. The great ship was travelling along almost upright. She regularly and lightly curtseyed, but did not roll. Her sails shone like satin, and on one side they hung far over the water, hollowing low down to a long pole or boom, and the reflection of them in the water under this boom was as though there was a silver cloud in the sea sweeping along with us.
There were no awnings; the sun was not yet hot enough for them. The white planks of the decks sparkled freshly like dry sand, and the shadows of the rigging ruled them with streaks of violet as though drawn by the hand. At the wheel stood a sailor in white trousers and a straw hat; he munched upon a piece of tobacco, and his little reddish eyes were sometimes directed at the compass and sometimes up at the sails, and never at anything else, as though there was nothing more to be seen. Not far from him, at the rail that protected the side, stood the fine tall figure of Captain Ladmore; he held a bright brass sextant, which he occasionally lifted to his eye. Some paces away from him was the short, square, solid form of Mr. Harris, the first officer, and he too held a sextant, though it was not so bright and polished as the captain’s. The raised deck on which I found myself—termed by sailors the poop, and to be henceforth so called by me—seemed to be covered with moving figures, though, after gazing awhile, I observed that they were not so numerous as they at first appeared. They were ladies and gentlemen and a few children; there was much noise of talking, a frequent gay laugh, a constant fluttering of female raiment.
I stood stock-still at the side of Mrs. Lee, staring about me, and for some moments no one seemed to observe us. At any time in my life such a spectacle would have been in the highest degree novel and of the deepest interest. Now it affected me as it would a child. It induced a simple emotion of wonder and delight—the sort of wonder and delight that makes young people clap their hands. Beyond the poop was a deck which I could not see; but in the bows of the ship was a raised deck, called the forecastle, and it was crowded with the emigrant folks sunning themselves, the men lounging, squatting, and smoking, the women, in queer bonnets or bright handkerchiefs tied round their heads, eagerly talking. I looked up at the sails and around at the sea, and at the scene on deck, brightly coloured by the clothes of the ladies.
‘How wonderful! How beautiful!’ I exclaimed.
‘Is she not a noble ship?’ said Mrs. Lee.
The captain turned his head and saw us. He crossed the deck, and asked me in his grave, kindly way how I did. I am glad you have come on deck,’ said he. ‘The mind will grow strong as the body grows strong; but the sun is nearly at his meridian, and I must keep an eye upon him,’ and he stepped back to take his place at the rail.
I caught Mr. Harris, the first officer, inspecting me furtively. When our gaze met he pulled off his cap, and then, with a manner of abrupt energy, reapplied himself to pointing his sextant at the sea.
‘You have made the acquaintance of Mr. Harris, the chief officer?’ said Mrs. Lee.
‘I met him on deck here at one o’clock this morning,’ I answered. ‘We held a short conversation, and he is of opinion that a violent shock, such as my falling overboard, would restore my memory.’
‘Sailors are a singular people,’ said Mrs. Lee. ‘They love to give opinions on anything which does not concern their profession, yet outside their profession they know little—often nothing. Many sea-captains used to visit our house in my poor husband’s lifetime, and out of their talk I might have collected quite a bookful of absurd ideas and laughable superstitions.’