ptain Miles, giving him a dig in the ribs by
way of acknowledging the allusion to the thumps poor Brindle had treated
him to, before she came on board and after; and, there, the matter
ended, as far as everybody was concerned, the steward recovering from
his fainting fit, and the eyes of Davis the second mate being none the
worse as it turned out for their deluge of hot pea-soup, while the
damages in the cabin were soon repaired. Only the poor cow came to
grief!
CHAPTER SEVEN.
AMONGST THE ISLANDS.
In spite of all Captain Miles' endeavours to effect an early start from
Saint Vincent, we were not really able to weather the island that
evening until many hours after our anchor was tripped and all plain sail
made.
This was not due, however, either to the delay caused in hoisting the
obstreperous cow on board or to the embarrassing episode that occurred
after she was shipped. It was entirely owing to the failure of our
moving spirit the wind; for we lay becalmed until morning under the lee
of the giant Souffriere, whose dark shadow prevented the land breeze
from reaching the vessel, while the next day was far advanced before we
could gain an offing so as to take advantage of the light airs that then
sprang up from seaward. But, then, the _Josephine_, bellying out her
canvas, bore away on her voyage.
The wide gulf of sea which we were traversing--named after the
aboriginal Caribs who ruled over its domain lang syne, and hedged in
from the Atlantic Ocean by the semicircular group of the Lesser
Antilles, or "Windward Islands" of the West Indies--presents great
difficulties to the navigators of sailing ships; as, while the wind
throughout its extent blows almost constantly in one direction, a series
of cross currents set in another, making it a hard task for even
experienced seamen to preserve a straight course towards any particular
point when going to windward, the result of which is that "the longest
way round," as in other matters pertaining to shore life, is frequently
"the shortest way home!"
Taking up the chart casually, a novice would imagine that our direct
route from our port of departure to the English Channel would be
indicated by a line drawn between the two points and passing through the
Azores; but, a sailor accustomed to tropical latitudes would know that,
however feasible this might appear in theory, we could not possibly have
adopted such a course. It would have presupposed, in the first c
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