The Lagoda Was Lying There, And Slipped At The First Alarm,
And In Such Haste That She Was Obliged To Leave Her Launch Behind Her
At Anchor.
The little boat rode it out for several hours, pitching at
her anchor, and standing with her stern up almost perpendicularly.
The men told me that they watched her till towards night, when
she snapped her cable and drove up over the breakers, high and
dry upon the beach.
On board the Pilgrim, everything went on regularly, each one
trying to get along as smoothly as possible; but the comfort of
the voyage was evidently at an end. "That is a long lane which
has no turning" - -"Every dog must have his day, and mine will
come by-and-by" - and the like proverbs, were occasionally quoted;
but no one spoke of any probable end to the voyage, or of Boston,
or anything of the kind; or if he did, it was only to draw out the
perpetual, surly reply from his shipmate - "Boston, is it? You may
thank your stars if you ever see that place. You had better have
your back sheathed, and your head coppered, and your feet shod,
and make out your log for California for life!" or else something of
this kind - "Before you get to Boston the hides will wear the hair
off your head, and you'll take up all your wages in clothes, and
won't have enough left to buy a wig with!"
The flogging was seldom if ever alluded to by us, in the forecastle.
If any one was inclined to talk about it, the others, with a delicacy
which I hardly expected to find among them, always stopped him,
or turned the subject.
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