ward though not aft. The seamen, not
romantically inclined, for the most part heeded neither moon nor sky
nor canvas. The vivid, delicate tracery of the shrouds and ruining
gear, the broader image of the sails, shadowed on the moonlit deck,
appealed not to them. Recognizing only that we had a steady wind, no
more bracing to-night, and that the most that could happen would be to
furl the royals should it freshen, they hastened to stow themselves
away for a full due between the cannon, out of the way of passing
feet, sure that this watch on deck would be little less good than one
below. Perhaps there were also visions of "beans to-morrow." I trust
so.

The lieutenant of the watch, Smith, and I had it all to ourselves;
unbroken, save for the half-hourly call of the lookouts: "Starboard
cathead!" "Port cathead!" "Starboard gangway!" "Port gangway!" "Life
buoy!" He came forward from time to time to take it all in, and to
see how the light spars were standing, for the ship was heeling eight
or ten degrees, and racing along, however quietly; but the strain was
steady, no whipping about from uneasy movement of the vessel, and we
carried on to the end. Each hour I hove the log and reported: one
o'clock, eleven knots; two o'clock, eleven; three o'clock,
eleven--famous going for an old sailing-ship close-hauled. Splendid!
we rubbed our hands; what a record! But, alas! at four o'clock, ten!
Commonly, ten used to be a kind of standard of excellence; Nelson once
wrote, as expressive of an utmost of hopefulness, "If we all went ten
knots, I should not think it fast enough;" but, puffed up as we had
been, it was now a sad come-down. Smith looked at me. "Are you _sure_,
Mr. Mahan?" With the old hand-log, its line running out while the sand
sped its way through the fourteen-seconds glass, the log-beaver might
sometimes, by judicious "feeding"--hurrying the line under the plea of
not dragging the log-chip--squeeze a little more record out of the
log-line than the facts warranted; and Smith seemed to feel I might
have done a little better for the watch and for the ship. But in
truth, when a cord is rushing through your hand at the rate of ten
miles an hour--fifteen feet a second--you cannot get hold enough to
hasten the pace. He passed through a struggle of conscience. "Well, I
suppose I must; log her ten-four." A poor tail to our beautiful kite.
Ten-four meant ten and a half; for in those primitive days knots were
divided into eight fath