The Three Admirals

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Desmond fully agreed to Tom’s proposal, and the time they had fixed on having arrived, and the wind blowing as strongly and steadily as ever, the helm was put up, and the boat was steered on the proposed course. Although the Bonins were seen, night came on before they sighted Bailey Islands; and Tom, afraid of running on them in the dark, steered more to the eastward than he otherwise would have done.

Before the first watch was set he addressed his companions, urging them one and all to keep a vigilant look out ahead, both day and night. “We have not the advantage, recollect, of a large vessel, when a rock or reef may be seen from the mast-head,” he observed. “Should there be any sea running, the first intimation we may have of our danger may be by finding ourselves on the top of a coral rock. We must be always ready, at a moment’s notice, to alter our course, and get out the oars should the wind fail us. By that means we may escape the dangers we must expect to meet with. Remember, the chart we have got is an old one and may be inaccurate, so that it would be unwise to trust completely to it.”

“Very important remarks, and I hope the men in my watch will remember them, as I shall myself,” said Desmond.

Though the wind was fair, they ran on all night, under the main-sail, foresail, and mizzen, in case they should suddenly have to haul up to avoid any danger upon which they might be running. “As soon as we have daylight we will set the square sail, and make up for lost time,” said Tom. The wind held fair, but towards morning it began to fall, and by daybreak it was again perfectly calm.

“Suppose the wind springs up next time from the southward, are we to run north?” asked Billy.

“Wait until that time comes,” answered Tom. “We have now laid a course for Guam, and Guam I hope we shall reach some day or other.”

As the sun rose the heat became very great, increased by the glare from the ocean, which shone like a sheet of burnished gold. Having a second suit of sails, Tom had the mainsail rigged as an awning, which, as the sun got higher, served to shelter their heads, and to prevent the risk of a sunstroke. The awning, however, could only be kept up as long as it remained calm, when it was of course most required. Although some progress might have been made by rowing, Tom was unwilling to fatigue his crew, thinking it better to husband their strength for any emergency which might occur. At the usual hour Tom piped to breakfast, which was made to last as long as possible. Tom’s great difficulty was to find occupation for all hands. Unfortunately they had no books except the nautical almanac, which was not interesting reading. Yarn spinning is very well in the evening when men have done their work, but few can go on all day either as listeners or narrators. Even singing songs becomes somewhat monotonous, especially when the list is small and the singers have already trolled them forth over and over again. Their chief amusement was watching the coveys of flying-fish which rose every now and then from the ocean, and darted through the air, their bright scales glittering in the sun. Occasionally a whale spouted forth a jet of vapour and spray with a loud noise like that emitted by the safety valve of a steam engine; while albicores, bonitos; and dolphins, with various other fish, could be seen here and there, sporting and tumbling, as they came to the surface, sending a circle of wavelets extending far and wide around. Sea birds also flew through the blue ether, their wings appearing of snowy whiteness as they caught the rays of the sun in their rapid flight.

Jerry Bird proposed getting out the oars. “Maybe, sir, if we pull on for a few hours we may fall in with some craft becalmed; and though we may wish to continue the voyage in our boat, we may have a talk with her people, hear the news, and maybe get a glass of grog.”

“Or slice of plum pudding, or pot of jam,” put in Billy.

As there appeared to be no signs of a breeze springing up, Tom agreed to Jerry’s proposal, and the oars were got out, Billy taking one of them, at which Gerald promised to take a spell when he got tired. Heavily laden, however, as the boat was, they could scarcely send her ahead at the rate of two knots an hour; but even that was something; and supposing they could row for fifteen hours, night and day, thirty miles might be made good during the four and twenty.