They Are Becalmed
On the eighth day there was a calm.
It came on by night: so that waking at daybreak, and folding my arms
over the gunwale, I looked out upon a scene very hard to describe. The
sun was still beneath the horizon; perhaps not yet out of sight from
the plains of Paraguay. But the dawn was too strong for the stars;
which, one by one, had gone out, like waning lamps after a ball.
Now, as the face of a mirror is a blank, only borrowing character from
what it reflects; so in a calm in the Tropics, a colorless sky
overhead, the ocean, upon its surface, hardly presents a sign of
existence. The deep blue is gone; and the glassy element lies tranced;
almost viewless as the air.
But that morning, the two gray firmaments of sky and water seemed
collapsed into a vague ellipsis. And alike, the Chamois seemed drifting
in the atmosphere as in the sea. Every thing was fused into the calm:
sky, air, water, and all. Not a fish was to be seen. The silence was
that of a vacuum. No vitality lurked in the air. And this inert
blending and brooding of all things seemed gray chaos in conception.
This calm lasted four days and four nights; during which, but a few
cat’s-paws of wind varied the scene. They were faint as the breath of
one dying.
At times the heat was intense. The heavens, at midday, glowing like an
ignited coal mine. Our skin curled up like lint; our vision became dim;
the brain dizzy.
To our consternation, the water in the breaker became lukewarm,
brackish, and slightly putrescent; notwithstanding we kept our spare
clothing piled upon the breaker, to shield it from the sun. At last,
Jarl enlarged the vent, carefully keeping it exposed. To this
precaution, doubtless, we owed more than we then thought. It was now
deemed wise to reduce our allowance of water to the smallest modicum
consistent with the present preservation of life; strangling all desire
for more.
Nor was this all. The upper planking of the boat began to warp; here
and there, cracking and splintering. But though we kept it moistened
with brine, one of the plank-ends started from its place; and the
sharp, sudden sound, breaking the scorching silence, caused us both to
spring to our feet. Instantly the sea burst in; but we made shift to
secure the rebellious plank with a cord, not having a nail; we then
bailed out the boat, nearly half full of water.
On the second day of the calm, we unshipped the mast, to prevent its
being pitched out by the occasional rolling of the vast smooth swells
now overtaking us. Leagues and leagues away, after its fierce raging,
some tempest must have been sending to us its last dying waves. For as
a pebble dropped into a pond ruffles it to its marge; so, on all sides,
a sea-gale operates as if an asteroid had fallen into the brine; making
ringed mountain billows, interminably expanding, instead of ripples.
The great September waves breaking at the base of the Neversink
Highlands, far in advance of the swiftest pilot-boat, carry tidings.
And full often, they know the last secret of many a stout ship, never
heard of from the day she left port. Every wave in my eyes seems a
soul.
As there was no steering to be done, Jarl and I sheltered ourselves as
well as we could under the awning. And for the first two days, one at a
time, and every three or four hours, we dropped overboard for a bath,
clinging to the gun-wale; a sharp look-out being kept for prowling
sharks. A foot or two below the surface, the water felt cool and
refreshing.
On the third day a change came over us. We relinquished bathing, the
exertion taxing us too much. Sullenly we laid ourselves down; turned
our backs to each other; and were impatient of the slightest casual
touch of our persons. What sort of expression my own countenance wore,
I know not; but I hated to look at Jarl’s. When I did it was a glare,
not a glance. I became more taciturn than he. I can not tell what it
was that came over me, but I wished I was alone. I felt that so long as
the calm lasted, we were without help; that neither could assist the
other; and above all, that for one, the water would hold out longer
than for two. I felt no remorse, not the slightest, for these thoughts.
It was instinct. Like a desperado giving up the ghost, I desired to
gasp by myself.
From being cast away with a brother, good God deliver me!
The four days passed. And on the morning of the fifth, thanks be to
Heaven, there came a breeze. Dancingly, mincingly it came, just
rippling the sea, until it struck our sails, previously set at the very
first token of its advance. At length it slightly freshened; and our
poor Chamois seemed raised from the dead.
Beyond expression delightful! Once more we heard the low humming of the
sea under our bow, as our boat, like a bird, went singing on its way.
How changed the scene! Overhead, a sweet blue haze, distilling sunlight
in drops. And flung abroad over the visible creation was the
sun-spangled, azure, rustling robe of the ocean, ermined with wave
crests; all else, infinitely blue. Such a cadence of musical sounds!
Waves chasing each other, and sporting and frothing in frolicsome foam:
painted fish rippling past; and anon the noise of wings as sea- fowls
flew by.
Oh, Ocean, when thou choosest to smile, more beautiful thou art than
flowery mead or plain!