“ ’T would have more beauty,” Peter observed, “if ’t was a model of the Annie Battles. I should like to carve one of the Battles.”
“It has beauty enough,” said Starbuck thoughtfully. “How long is it since we ’ve seen the Battles?”
“Nigh on to a year,” Peter replied, counting up the months. “We ’d almost forgotten her. Most of the crew ’s clean forgotten.”
“I have n’t,” said Starbuck. “I ’ve always wondered what happened on the Battles—what happened to Fred Coffin. I ’m sure enough that something did.”
Peter agreed with him, and the Prince grunted. I, for a wonder, said nothing. At that instant the cry came down from the masthead, “Land, ho!” It took a sailor to understand that cry; to others it would have been as unintelligible as a brakeman’s cry of the name of a station.
Landfall must have been expected, for Captain Nelson was on deck with his glass. He did not even ask the usual question, “Where away?” but went at once up the main rigging and searched the horizon on the lee bow. Presently he came down and spoke to the officer of the watch.
“Well as she goes.”
“Well as she goes,” the officer repeated; and repeated the order to the man at the wheel, who was within easy hearing of the captain.
“Well as she goes,” said the man at the wheel, and kept her on her course.
“What is it, Peter?” I asked. “Amsterdam?”