Читать книгу The Captain from Connecticut онлайн

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"Heave the log every glass, Mr. Hubbard," he ordered.

"Aye aye, sir," said Hubbard. Hubbard's breast and the front of his thighs were white with snow as he turned to acknowledge the order; glancing down, Peabody saw that his own clothes were similarly coated. A master's mate and a hand came aft, trudging through the snow on deck, their foothold precarious on that giddy slope. The hand would wet himself thoroughly with the dripping long line as he hauled it in again, and the water would freeze in that biting wind. It would be an uncomfortable night for him, thought Peabody, but discomfort was part of a sailor's life when necessary. The safety of the ship depended on the accurate estimate of her speed and distance travelled. He turned to the quartermasters.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

"A little, sir," said one of them.

From those tough seamen the two words were the equivalent of a long wail of misery from a landsman. Peabody knew they would be numb and stupid before long.

"Mr. Hubbard!" he said. "Relieve these men at the wheel every half hour."