Now the island peak loomed in black outline against a pale green sky; heavy clouds hung about the western horizon glowing with crimson imparted by the sun which had just gone to his setting; the waves were tinted with reflected hues. I was not in a frame of mind to enjoy the spectacle. My thought was of the maiden whom I should never see again, and the dew gathered in my eyes.
The crew felt kindly towards the captain, and they lauded him highly for giving them such a royal treat. As we set sail, they were happy and elated, and their joy was increased when they were informed that we were not going round the Horn, but were to make for home through the Strait of Magellan. The shortening of the voyage was the interesting feature. They had no conception of the difficulties and dilemmas they were to encounter in that hazardous passage—frequent fogs, hidden rocks and sudden squalls.
When Kreelman and I had a few minutes together, he said: “Fancy Chest, I never was in the Magellan Strait, but a sailor who was on a merchantman told me that they went through there, and he never had such a time in his life. He said that there was a mile for every day in the year, and it took a week to get through. Once they scraped along a hidden rock, and just escaped shipwreck. I don’t know why the old man wants to go through there, but I suppose he does. I never knew of a whaler goin’ through there before. Bad as the Horn is, it’s free sailin’ there. I hope the oil, bone and ambergris is insured.”
This expression of Kreelman’s views was not encouraging.
“How did you like the day on shore?” I inquired.
“A great day for sailors. The old man done himself noble in giving us shore leave, and the Pitcairn folks done themselves proud in entertainin’ us. It was somethin’ like one of them nice, little places in a hot land. You know what I mean.”
Kreelman looked at me, appealingly. “I think you mean an oasis in the desert,” I volunteered.
“That’s it, Fancy Chest, an oyster, only not in the desert, but in the ocean.”
The man mused, then broke out, “You heard Lakeum give that talk. There ain’t no man among edicated men who could have done better. I’ve been on the sea about all my life and I never see before a man on board a whaler like that man. You never hear no bad language and he acts different from the other men. He treats the men well, but he don’t allow no nonsense. And then he carries himself well. He’s got an edication, and he come from first-class folks, but, as I told you long ago, you can’t find out nothin’ about him. I guess, if all whalers was made up of men like him, they’d be better places to live in.”