How They Steered On Their Way
When we quitted the Chamois for the brigantine, we must have been at
least two hundred leagues to the westward of the spot, where we had
abandoned the Arcturion. Though how far we might then have been, North
or South of the Equator, I could not with any certainty divine.
But that we were not removed any considerable distance from the Line,
seemed obvious. For in the starriest night no sign of the extreme Polar
constellations was visible; though often we scanned the northern and
southern horizon in search of them. So far as regards the aspect of the
skies near the ocean’s rim, the difference of several degrees in one’s
latitude at sea, is readily perceived by a person long accustomed to
surveying the heavens.
If correct in my supposition, concerning our longitude at the time here
alluded to, and allowing for what little progress we had been making in
the Parki, there now remained some one hundred leagues to sail, ere the
country we sought would be found. But for obvious reasons, how long
precisely we might continue to float out of sight of land, it was
impossible to say. Calms, light breezes, and currents made every thing
uncertain. Nor had we any method of estimating our due westward
progress, except by what is called Dead Reckoning,—the computation of
the knots run hourly; allowances’ being made for the supposed
deviations from our course, by reason of the ocean streams; which at
times in this quarter of the Pacific run with very great velocity.
Now, in many respects we could not but feel safer aboard the Parki than
in the Chamois. The sense of danger is less vivid, the greater the
number of lives involved. He who is ready to despair in solitary peril,
plucks up a heart in the presence of another. In a plurality of
comrades is much countenance and consolation.
Still, in the brigantine there were many sources of uneasiness and
anxiety unknown to me in the whale-boat. True, we had now between us
and the deep, five hundred good planks to one lath in our buoyant
little chip. But the Parki required more care and attention; especially
by night, when a vigilant look-out was indispensable. With impunity, in
our whale-boat, we might have run close to shoal or reef; whereas,
similar carelessness or temerity now, might prove fatal to all
concerned.
Though in the joyous sunlight, sailing through the sparkling sea, I was
little troubled with serious misgivings; in the hours of darkness it
was quite another thing. And the apprehensions, nay terrors I felt,
were much augmented by the remissness of both Jarl and Samoa, in
keeping their night-watches. Several times I was seized with a deadly
panic, and earnestly scanned the murky horizon, when rising from
slumber I found the steersman, in whose hands for the time being were
life and death, sleeping upright against the tiller, as much of a
fixture there, as the open-mouthed dragon rudely carved on our prow.
Were it not, that on board of other vessels, I myself had many a time
dozed at the helm, spite of all struggles, I would have been almost at
a loss to account for this heedlessness in my comrades. But it seemed
as if the mere sense of our situation, should have been sufficient to
prevent the like conduct in all on board our craft.
Samoa’s aspect, sleeping at the tiller, was almost appalling. His large
opal eyes were half open; and turned toward the light of the binnacle,
gleamed between the lids like bars of flame. And added to all, was his
giant stature and savage lineaments.
It was in vain, that I remonstrated, begged, or threatened: the
occasional drowsiness of my fellow-voyagers proved incurable. To no
purpose, I reminded my Viking that sleeping in the night-watch in a
craft like ours, was far different from similar heedlessness on board
the Arcturion. For there, our place upon the ocean was always known,
and our distance from land; so that when by night the seamen were
permitted to be drowsy, it was mostly, because the captain well knew
that strict watchfulness could be dispensed with.
Though in all else, the Skyeman proved a most faithful ally, in this
one thing he was either perversely obtuse, or infatuated. Or, perhaps,
finding himself once more in a double-decked craft, which rocked him as
of yore, he was lulled into a deceitful security.
For Samoa, his drowsiness was the drowsiness of one beat on sleep, come
dreams or death. He seemed insensible to the peril we ran. Often I sent
the sleepy savage below, sad, steered myself till morning. At last I
made a point of slumbering much by day, the better to stand watch by
night; though I made Samoa and Jarl regularly go through with their
allotted four hours each.
It has been mentioned, that Annatoo took her turn at the helm; but it
was only by day. And in justice to the lady, I must affirm, that upon
the whole she acquitted herself well. For notwithstanding the syren
face in the binnacle, which dimly allured her glances, Annatoo after
all was tolerably heedful of her steering. Indeed she took much pride
therein; always ready for her turn; with marvelous exactitude
calculating the approaching hour, as it came on in regular rotation.
Her time-piece was ours, the sun. By night it must have been her
guardian star; for frequently she gazed up at a particular section of
the heavens, like one regarding the dial in a tower.
By some odd reasoning or other, she had cajoled herself into the
notion, that whoever steered the brigantine, for that period was
captain. Wherefore, she gave herself mighty airs at the tiller; with
extravagant gestures issuing unintelligible orders about trimming the
sails, or pitching overboard something to see how fast we were going.
All this much diverted my Viking, who several times was delivered of a
laugh; a loud and healthy one to boot: a phenomenon worthy the
chronicling.
And thus much for Annatoo, preliminary to what is further to be said.
Seeing the drowsiness of Jarl and Samoa, which so often kept me from my
hammock at night, forcing me to repose by day, when I far preferred
being broad awake, I decided to let Annatoo take her turn at the night
watches; which several times she had solicited me to do; railing at the
sleepiness of her spouse; though abstaining from all reflections upon
Jarl, toward whom she had of late grown exceedingly friendly.
Now the Calmuc stood her first night watch to admiration; if any thing,
was altogether too wakeful. The mere steering of the craft employed not
sufficiently her active mind. Ever and anon she must needs rush from
the tiller to take a parenthetical pull at the fore- brace, the end of
which led down to the bulwarks near by; then refreshing herself with a
draught or two of water and a biscuit, she would continue to steer
away, full of the importance of her office. At any unusual flapping of
the sails, a violent stamping on deck announced the fact to the
startled crew. Finding her thus indefatigable, I readily induced her to
stand two watches to Jarl’s and Samoa’s one; and when she was at the
helm, I permitted myself to doze on a pile of old sails, spread every
evening on the quarter-deck.
It was the Skyeman, who often admonished me to “heave the ship to”
every night, thus stopping her headway till morning; a plan which,
under other circumstances, might have perhaps warranted the slumbers of
all. But as it was, such a course would have been highly imprudent. For
while making no onward progress through the water, the rapid currents
we encountered would continually be drifting us eastward; since,
contrary to our previous experience, they seemed latterly to have
reversed their flow, a phenomenon by no means unusual in the vicinity
of the Line in the Pacific. And this it was that so prolonged our
passage to the westward. Even in a moderate breeze, I sometimes
fancied, that the impulse of the wind little more than counteracted the
glide of the currents; so that with much show of sailing, we were in
reality almost a fixture on the sea.
The equatorial currents of the South Seas may be regarded as among the
most mysterious of the mysteries of the deep. Whence they come, whither
go, who knows? Tell us, what hidden law regulates their flow.
Regardless of the theory which ascribes to them a nearly uniform course
from east to west, induced by the eastwardly winds of the Line, and the
collateral action of the Polar streams; these currents are forever
shifting. Nor can the period of their revolutions be at all relied upon
or predicted.
But however difficult it may be to assign a specific cause for the
ocean streams, in any part of the world, one of the wholesome effects
thereby produced would seem obvious enough. And though the circumstance
here alluded to is perhaps known to every body, it may be questioned,
whether it is generally invested with the importance it deserves.
Reference is here made to the constant commingling and purification of
the sea-water by reason of the currents.
For, that the ocean, according to the popular theory, possesses a
special purifying agent in its salts, is somewhat to be doubted. Nor
can it be explicitly denied, that those very salts might corrupt it,
were it not for the brisk circulation of its particles consequent upon
the flow of the streams. It is well known to seamen, that a bucket of
sea-water, left standing in a tropical climate, very soon becomes
highly offensive; which is not the case with rainwater.
But I build no theories. And by way of obstructing the one, which might
possibly be evolved from the statement above, let me add, that the
offensiveness of sea-water left standing, may arise in no small degree
from the presence of decomposed animal matter.