The Operation, However, Was Somewhat Slow, For It Was
Necessary To Overhaul And Inspect Every Pack To Prevent
Imposition, And The Peltries Had Then To Be Conveyed In Large
Boats, Made Of Skins, To The Ship, Which Was Some Little Distance
From The Shore, Standing Off And On.
One night, while Mr. Hunt was on shore, with some others of the
crew, there arose a terrible gale.
When the day broke, the ship
was not to be seen. He watched for her with anxious eyes until
night, but in vain. Day after day of boisterous storms, and
howling wintry weather, were passed in watchfulness and
solicitude. Nothing was to be seen but a dark and angry sea, and
a scowling northern sky; and at night he retired within the jaws
of the whale, and nestled disconsolately among seal skins.
At length, on the 13th of November, the Beaver made her
appearance; much the worse for the stormy conflicts which she had
sustained in those hyperborean seas. She had been obliged to
carry a press of sail in heavy gales to be able to hold her
ground, and had consequently sustained great damage in her canvas
and rigging. Mr. Hunt lost no time in hurrying the residue of the
cargo on board of her; then, bidding adieu to his seal-fishing
friends, and his whalebone habitation, he put forth once more to
sea.
He was now for making the best of his way to Astoria, and
fortunate would it have been for the interests of that place, and
the interests of Mr. Astor, had he done so; but, unluckily, a
perplexing question rose in his mind.
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