Jules Verne For Children: 16 Incredible Tales of Mystery, Courage & Adventure (Illustrated Edition). Jules Verne
Sand had spoken with the confidence of the seaman, who feels that he stands on a good ship, a ship of whose every movement he is master. He was going to take the helm and call his companions to set the sails properly, when Mrs. Weldon reminded him that he ought first to know the Pilgrim’s position.
It was, indeed, the first thing to do. Dick Sand went into the captain’s cabin for the chart on which the position of the day before was indicated. He could then show Mrs. Weldon that the schooner was in latitude 43° 35′, and in longitude 164° 13′, for, in the last twenty-four hours, she had not, so to say, made any progress.
Mrs. Weldon leaned over this chart. She looked at the brown color which represented the land on the right of the ocean. It was the coast of South America, an immense barrier thrown between the Pacific and the Atlantic from Cape Horn to the shores of Columbia. To consider it in that way, that chart, which, was then spread out under her eyes, on which was drawn a whole ocean, gave the impression that it would be easy to restore the Pilgrim’s passengers to their country. It is an illusion which is invariably produced on one who is not familiar with the scale on which marine charts are drawn. And, in fact, it seemed to Mrs. Weldon that the land ought to be in sight, as it was on that piece of paper!
And, meanwhile, on that white page, the Pilgrim drawn on an exact scale, would be smaller than the most microscopic of infusoria! That mathematical point, without appreciable dimensions, would appear lost, as it was in reality in the immensity of the Pacific!
Dick Sand himself had not experienced the same impression as Mrs. Weldon. He knew how far off the land was, and that many hundreds of miles would not suffice to measure the distance from it. But he had taken his part; he had become a man under the responsibility which had fallen upon him.
The moment to act had come. He must profit by this northwest breeze which was blowing up. Contrary winds had given place to favorable winds, and some clouds scattered in the zenith under the cirrous form, indicated that they would blow steadily for at least a certain time.
Dick called Tom and his companions.
“My friends,” he said to them, “our ship has no longer any crew but you. I cannot work without your aid. You are not sailors, but you have good arms. Place them, then, at the Pilgrims’ service and we can steer her. Every one’s salvation depends on the good work of every one on board.”
“Mr. Dick,” replied Tom, “my companions and I, we are your sailors. Our good will shall not be wanting. All that men can do, commanded by you, we shall do it.”
“Well spoken, old Tom,” said Mrs. Weldon.
“Yes, well spoken,” continued Dick Sand; “but we must be prudent, and I shall not carry too much canvas, so as not to run any risk. Circumstances require a little less speed, but more security. I will show you, my friends, what each will have to do in the work. As to me, I shall remain at the helm, as long as fatigue does not oblige me to leave it. From time to time a few hours’ sleep will be sufficient to restore me. But, during those few hours, it will be very necessary for one of you to take my place. Tom, I shall show you how we steer by means of the mariner’s compass. It is not difficult, and, with a little attention, you will soon learn to keep the ship’s head in the right direction.”
“Whenever you like, Mr. Dick,” replied the old black.
“Well,” replied the novice, “stay near me at the helm till the end of the day, and if fatigue overcomes me, you will then be able to replace me for a few hours.”
“And I,” said little Jack, “will I not be able to help my friend, Dick, a little?”
“Yes, dear child,” replied Mrs. Weldon, clasping Jack in her arms, “you shall learn to steer, and I am sure that while you are at the helm we shall have good winds.”
“Very sure—very sure. Mother, I promise it to you,” replied the little boy, clapping his hands.
“Yes,” said the young novice, smiling, “good cabin-boys know how to maintain good winds. That is well known by old sailors.” Then, addressing Tom, and the other blacks: “My friends,” he said to them, “we are going to put the Pilgrim under full sail. You will only have to do what I shall tell you.”
“At your orders,” replied Tom, “at your orders, Captain Sand.”
CHAPTER X
The Four Days Which Follow.
Dick Sand was then captain of the Pilgrim, and, without losing an instant, he took the necessary measures for putting the ship under full sail.
It was well understood that the passengers could have only one hope—that of reaching some part of the American coast, if not Valparaiso. What Dick Sand counted on doing was to ascertain the direction and speed of the Pilgrim, so as to get an average. For that, it was sufficient to make each day on the chart the way made, as it has been said, by the log and the compass. There was then on board one of those “patent logs,” with an index and helix, which give the speed very exactly for a fixed time. This useful instrument, very easily handled, could render the most useful services, and the blacks were perfectly adapted to work it.
A single cause of error would interfere—the currents. To combat it, reckoning would be insufficient; astronomical observations alone would enable one to render an exact calculation from it. Now, those observations the young novice was still unable to make.
For an instant Dick Sand had thought of bringing the Pilgrim back to New Zealand. The passage would be shorter, and he would certainly have done it if the wind, which, till then, had been contrary, had not become favorable. Better worth while then to steer for America.
In fact, the wind had changed almost to the contrary direction, and now it blew from the northwest with a tendency to freshen. It was then necessary to profit by it and make all the headway possible.
So Dick Sand prepared to put the Pilgrim under full sail.
In a schooner brig-rigged, the foremast carries four square sails; the foresail, on the lower mast; above, the top-sail, on the topmast; then, on the top-gallant mast, a top-sail and a royal.
The mainmast, on the contrary, has fewer sails. It only carries a brigantine below, and a fore-staffsail above. Between these two masts, on the stays which support them at the prow, a triple row of triangular sails may be set.
Finally, at the prow, on the bowsprit, and its extreme end, were hauled the three jibs.
The jibs, the brigantine, the fore-staff, and the stay-sails are easily managed. They can be hoisted from the deck without the necessity of climbing the masts, because they are not fastened on the yards by means of rope-bands, which must be previously loosened.
On the contrary, the working of the foremast sails demands much greater proficiency in seamanship. In fact, when it is necessary to set them, the sailors must climb by the rigging—it may be in the foretop, it may be on the spars of the top-gallant mast, it may be to the top of the said mast—and that, as well in letting them fly as in drawing them in to diminish their surface in reefing them. Thence the necessity of running out on foot-ropes—movable ropes stretched below the yards—of working with one hand while holding on by the other—perilous work for any one who is not used to it. The oscillation from the rolling and pitching of the ship, very much increased by the length of the lever, the flapping of the sails under a stiff breeze, have often sent a man overboard. It was then a truly dangerous operation for Tom and his companions.
Very fortunately, the wind was moderate. The sea had not yet had time to become rough. The rolling and pitching kept within bounds.
When Dick Sand, at Captain Hull’s signal, had steered toward the scene of the catastrophe, the Pilgrim only carried her jibs, her brigantine, her foresail, and her top-sail. To get the ship under way as quickly as possible, the novice had only to make use of, that is, to counter-brace, the foresail. The blacks had