Sailing Alone Around The World | Page 9

a Briar Islander, fish or no fish on his hook, never
flinches from a sea. He just tends to his lines and hauls or "saws." Nay,
have I not seen my old friend Deacon W. D---, a good man of the island,
while listening to a sermon in the little church on the hill, reach out his
hand over the door of his pew and "jig" imaginary squid in the aisle, to
the intense delight of the young people, who did not realize that to
catch good fish one must have good bait, the thing most on the deacon's

mind.
[Illustration: The deacon's dream.]
I was delighted to reach Westport. Any port at all would have been
delightful after the terrible thrashing I got in the fierce sou'west rip, and
to find myself among old schoolmates now was charming. It was the
13th of the month, and 13 is my lucky number--a fact registered long
before Dr. Nansen sailed in search of the north pole with his crew of
thirteen. Perhaps he had heard of my success in taking a most
extraordinary ship successfully to Brazil with that number of crew. The
very stones on Briar's Island I was glad to see again, and I knew them
all. The little shop round the corner, which for thirty-five years I had
not seen, was the same, except that it looked a deal smaller. It wore the
same shingles--I was sure of it; for did not I know the roof where we
boys, night after night, hunted for the skin of a black cat, to be taken on
a dark night, to make a plaster for a poor lame man? Lowry the tailor
lived there when boys were boys. In his day he was fond of the gun. He
always carried his powder loose in the tail pocket of his coat. He
usually had in his mouth a short dudeen; but in an evil moment he put
the dudeen, lighted, in the pocket among the powder. Mr. Lowry was
an eccentric man.
At Briar's Island I overhauled the Spray once more and tried her seams,
but found that even the test of the sou'west rip had started nothing. Bad
weather and much head wind prevailing outside, I was in no hurry to
round Cape Sable. I made a short excursion with some friends to St.
Mary's Bay, an old cruising-ground, and back to the island. Then I
sailed, putting into Yarmouth the following day on account of fog and
head wind. I spent some days pleasantly enough in Yarmouth, took in
some butter for the voyage, also a barrel of potatoes, filled six barrels
of water, and stowed all under deck. At Yarmouth, too, I got my
famous tin clock, the only timepiece I carried on the whole voyage. The
price of it was a dollar and a half, but on account of the face being
smashed the merchant let me have it for a dollar.
[Illustration: Captain Slocum's chronometer.]

CHAPTER III
Good-by to the American coast--Off Sable Island in a fog--In the open
sea--The man in the moon takes an interest in the voyage--The first fit
of loneliness--The Spray encounters La Vaguisa--A bottle of wine from
the Spaniard--A bout of words with the captain of the Java--The
steamship Olympia spoken--Arrival at the Azores.
I now stowed all my goods securely, for the boisterous Atlantic was
before me, and I sent the topmast down, knowing that the Spray would
be the wholesomer with it on deck. Then I gave the lanyards a pull and
hitched them afresh, and saw that the gammon was secure, also that the
boat was lashed, for even in summer one may meet with bad weather in
the crossing.
In fact, many weeks of bad weather had prevailed. On July 1, however,
after a rude gale, the wind came out nor'west and clear, propitious for a
good run. On the following day, the head sea having gone down, I
sailed from Yarmouth, and let go my last hold on America. The log of
my first day on the Atlantic in the Spray reads briefly: "9:30 A.M.
sailed from Yarmouth. 4:30 P.M. passed Cape Sable; distance, three
cables from the land. The sloop making eight knots. Fresh breeze
N.W." Before the sun went down I was taking my supper of
strawberries and tea in smooth water under the lee of the east-coast
land, along which the Spray was now leisurely skirting.
At noon on July 3 Ironbound Island was abeam. The Spray was again at
her best. A large schooner came out of Liverpool, Nova Scotia, this
morning, steering eastward. The Spray put her hull down astern in five
hours. At 6:45 P.M. I was in close under Chebucto Head light, near
Halifax harbor. I set my flag and squared away,