To an inexperienced crew, the last operation was far from easy; but there was no symptom of shrinking from it. Followed by Bat and Austin, Dick mounted the rigging of the foremast, and with little trouble got to the topgallant. Had the weather been less unpromising he would have been inclined to leave the two yards as they were, but anticipating the ultimate necessity of being obliged to lower the mast, he unrigged them, and let them down to the deck; he knew well enough that in the event of the gale rising as he expected, the lowering of the mast as well as the shortening of sail would contribute to diminish the strain and stress upon the vessel.
It was the work of two hours to get this preliminary operation over. There still remained the task of taking in the reefs in the topsail.
The Pilgrim in one respect differed from most modern vessels. She did not carry a double foretop, which would very much have diminished the difficulty attending the reefing. It was consequently necessary to proceed as before; to mount the rigging, by main force to haul in the flapping canvas, and to make the fastening secure. But critical and dangerous as the task was, it was successfully accomplished, and the three young men, having descended safely to the deck, had the satisfaction of seeing the schooner run easily before the wind, which had further increased till it was blowing a stiff gale.
For three days the gale continued brisk and hard, yet without any variation in its direction. But all along the barometer was falling; the mercury sank to 28° without symptom of recovery. The sky was becoming overcast; clouds, thick and lowering, obscured the sun, and it was difficult to make out where it rose or where it set. Dick did his best to keep up his courage, but he could not disguise from himself that there was cause for uneasiness. He took no more rest than was absolutely necessary, and what repose he allowed himself he always took on deck; he maintained a calm exterior, but he was really tortured with anxiety.
Although the violence of the wind seemed to lull awhile, Dick did not suffer himself to be betrayed into any false security; he knew only too well what to expect, and after a brief interval of comparative quiet, the gale returned and the waves began to run very high.
About four o’clock one afternoon, Negoro (a most unusual thing for him) emerged from his kitchen, and skulked to the fore. Dingo was fast asleep, and did not make his ordinary growl by way of greeting to his enemy. For half an hour Negoro stood motionless, apparently surveying the horizon. The heavy waves rolled past; they were higher than the condition of the wind warranted; their magnitude witnessed to a storm passing in the west, and there was every reason to suspect that the Pilgrim might be caught by its violence.
Negoro looked long at the water; he then raised his eyes and scanned the sky. Above and below he might have read threatening signs. The upper stratum of cloud was travelling far more rapidly than that beneath, an indication that ere long the masses of vapour would descend, and, coming in contact with the inferior current, would change the gale into a tempest, which probably would increase to a hurricane.
It might be from ignorance or it might be from indifference, but there was no indication of alarm on the face of Negoro; on the other hand there might be seen a sort of smile curling on his lip. After thus gazing above him and around him, he clambered onto the bowsprit, and made his way by degrees to the very gammonings; again he rested and looked about him as if to explore the horizon; after a while he clambered back on deck, and soon stealthily retreated to his own quarters.
No doubt there was much to cause concern in the general aspect of the weather; but there was one point on which they never failed to congratulate each other;—that the direction of the wind had never changed, and consequently must be carrying them in the desired course. Unless a storm should overtake them, they could continue their present navigation without peril, and with every prospect of finding a port upon the shore where they might put in. Such were their mutual and acknowledged hopes; but Dick secretly felt the misgiving lest, without a pilot, he might in his ignorance fail to find a harbour of refuge. Nevertheless, he would not suffer himself to meet trouble halfway, and kept up his spirits under the conviction that if difficulties came he should be strengthened to grapple with them or make his escape.
Time passed on, and the 9th of March arrived without material change in the condition of the atmosphere. The sky remained heavily burdened, and the wind, which occasionally had abated for a few hours, had always returned with at least its former violence. The occasional rising of the mercury never encouraged Dick to anticipate a permanent improvement in the weather, and he discerned only too plainly
