Nobody wanted to go
below; all hands felt that it was rest enough to hang over the
rail on either side and watch the black masses as they surged
through the gleaming sea. They represented so much to us. Very
little was said, but all hearts were filled with a deep content,
a sense of a long season of toil fitly crowned with complete
success; nor was any depression felt at the long, long stretch of
stormy ocean between us and our home port far away in the United
States. That would doubtless come by-and-by, when within less
than a thousand miles of New Bedford; but at present all sense of
distance from home was lost in the overmastering thought that
soon it would be our only business to get there as quickly as
possible, without any avoidable loitering on the road.
We made an amazing disturbance in the darkness of the sea with
our double burthen, so much so that one of the coasting steamers
changed her course a bit to range up by our side in curiosity.
We were scarcely going two and a half knots, in spite of the row
we made, and there was hardly room for wonder at the steamboat
captain's hail, "Want any assistance?" "No, thank you," was
promptly returned, although there was little doubt that all hands
would have subscribed towards a tow into port, in case the
treacherous weather should, after all, play us a dirty trick.
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