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All along throughout this period, my fellow-passengers are
totally ignorant of the extraordinary course that we are taking
England lies to the NORTH-EAST, yet we are sailing directly
SOUTH-EAST, and Robert Curtis owns that he is quite bewildered;
he cannot comprehend why the captain, ever since this north-
easterly gale has been blowing, should persist in allowing the
ship to drive to the south, instead of tacking to the north-west
until she gets into better quarters.
I was alone with Curtis to-day upon the poop, and could not help
saying to him "Curtis, is your captain mad?"
"Perhaps, sir, I might be allowed to ask what YOU think upon that
matter," was his cautious reply.
"Well to say the truth," I answered, "I can hardly tell; but I
confess there is every now and then a wandering in his eye, and
an odd look on his face that I do not like. Have you ever sailed
with him before?"
"No; this is our first voyage together. Again last night I spoke
to him about the route we were taking, but he only said he knew
all about it, and that it was all right."
"What do Lieutenant Walter and your boatswain think of it all?"
I inquired.
"Think; why they think just the same as I do," replied the mate;
"but if the captain chooses to take the ship to China we should
obey his orders."
"But surely," I exclaimed, "there must be some limit to your
obedience! Suppose the man is actually mad, what then?"
"If he should be mad enough, Mr. Kazallon, to bring the vessel
into any real danger, I shall know what to do."
With this assurance I am forced to be content. Matters, however,
have taken a different turn to what I bargained for when I took
my passage on board the "Chancellor." The weather has become
worse and worse. As I have already said, the ship under her
large low-reefed top-sail and fore stay-sail has been brought
ahull, that is to say, she copes directly with the wind, by
presenting her broad bows to the sea; and so we go on still
drift, drift, continually to the south.
How southerly our course has been is very apparent; for upon the
night of the 11th we fairly entered upon that portion of the
Atlantic which is known as the Sargassos Sea. An extensive tract
of water is this, enclosed by the warm current of the Gulf
Stream, and thickly covered with the wrack, called by the
Spaniards "sargasso," the abundance of which so seriously impeded
the progress of Columbus's vessels on his first voyage across the
ocean.
Each morning at daybreak the Atlantic has presented an aspect so
remarkable, that at my solicitation, M. Letourneur and his son
have ventured upon deck to witness the unusual spectacle. The
squally gusts make the metal shrouds vibrate like harp-strings;
and unless we were on our guard to keep our clothes wrapped
tightly to us, they would have been torn off our backs in shreds.
The scene presented to our eyes is one of strangest interest.
The sea, carpeted thickly with masses of prolific fucus, is a
vast unbroken plain of vegetation, through which the vessel makes
her way as a plough. Long strips of seaweed caught up by the
wind become entangled in the rigging, and hang between the masts
in festoons of verdure; whilst others, varying from two to three
hundred feet in length, twine themselves up to the very mast-
heads, from whence they float like streaming pendants. For many
hours now, the "Chancellor" has been contending with this
formidable accumulation of algae; her masts are circled with
hydrophytes; her rigging is wreathed everywhere with creepers,
fantastic as the untrammelled tendrils of a vine, and as she
works her arduous course, there are times when I can only compare
her to an animated grove of verdure making its mysterious way
over some illimitable prairie.
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