The far side of the world by Patrick O'Brian

Author:Patrick O'Brian [O'Brian, Patrick]
Format: epub

He had had a long conference with Jack, and they had decided that in view of the Estrella's information the best course was to bear in with the main, keeping as close to the homeward-bound whalers' path as possible; this was not the Surprise's direct route for the Galapagos, but, insisted the master, they would lose little time - it was almost as broad as it was long - because of the cold current that flowed north along the coast, carrying seals and penguins right up almost as far as the equator, the whole length of Chile and Peru. Allen's reasoning and his experience of these waters seemed conclusive to Jack, and the ship was now steering as nearly east-north-east as she could, through the cheerless drizzle.

A cheerless, uneasy ship: they had got rid of one unlucky man in poor Hollom, as they all called him now, but they had gained a far worse, a fellow who must necessarily bring a curse upon them all. The youngsters were pitifully affected - Mrs Homer had always been very kind to them, and apart from that they had been as sensible of her good looks as grown men - Jack abruptly shifted their quarters, making them mess with Ward, his clerk, Higgins, and the tall American midshipman: Ward did not care for their company (though they were red-eyed and as quiet as mice at present) but it was intolerable that they should stay with Homer.

The gunner celebrated his freedom by getting drunk. He compelled one of his mates to sit with him and the much less reluctant barber Compton, the one person aboard who could by any stretch of the word be called his crony. Homer was well found in stores, having three breakers of Spanish brandy left, and they drank until the graveyard watch, when to their horror the hands on deck heard his thick harsh voice singing Come it late or come it soon/I shall enjoy my rose in June.

Day after day the Surprise sailed through troubled seas, with the ship labouring heavily; and every night Homer sat drinking with the barber, whose shrill ventriloquial voice could be heard going through his set pieces again and again, followed by the deep rumbling tones of the half-drunk Homer growing confidential. It shocked the men on deck; it shocked the men below. Even when she reached the cool turquoise water of the Peru current one clear day at noon and raised the jagged line of the Cordillera of the Andes, sparkling white in the clear sky far, far on the starboard beam as she turned northward, the mood in the ship remained the same. The hands were oppressed and silent; they thought Compton mad to hobnob with the gunner and they were not surprised when one night there was the sound of fighting and he came racing up on deck, his face covered with blood and the gunner hard after him. Homer tripped and fell; they picked him up dead drunk and carried him below.

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