With the falling tide we drifted down the harbor and into the lower bay, a slight wind from the north-west favoring our movements. We went slowly, and it was pretty late in the afternoon before we reached the point where the pilot had decided upon anchoring for the night. We dropped anchor; and then a boat came alongside to take away the men who had come on board with the pilot to assist in working the Washington to where she lay.
It was much quieter that night on board the ship than on the previous one; the intoxicated men were proving the truth of Haine's prediction, as the next morning saw them all sobered up, though some were in a condition which Herne described as "very shaky." All were able to work, however, and were set about their duties, supervised by the first and second mates, so that there was no danger of the rust accumulating in their joints.
Some of the sailors had brought their chests with them; others had come with bundles of varied size; and others had nothing except the clothing in which they stood. To these last, the mate served out shirts, trousers, and jackets, from the slop-chest, and the garments thus obtained were charged to the account of the man who received them. You may be sure that the prices were high enough, as it was not the intention of the owners of the ship to lose money in any transactions with the crew. I suspected as much at the time; since I became mate and captain I have learned all about it.
It was a dead calm all through the forenoon, and the pilot went anxiously about the ship, hoping, whistling, praying, and swearing, for a wind. He obtained what he wanted after a time, but whether his prayers or his oaths brought it, "deponent sayeth not."
The wind came from the westward, and was favorable to our getting to sea. When the first puffs of the breeze ruffled the water, the anchor was lifted, and the sails were unfurled. Slowly the ship started from where she had been lying, and as the breeze increased her sails filled out, and in less than half an hour from the time the anchor left the muddy bed where it had rested for the night, we were going ahead at a fairly good speed.
Just outside of Cape Cod the ship backed her sails and hove-to long enough to let the pilot and his men descend into a boat that came alongside. I confess to a momentary longing to jump into the boat and go ashore with them. My sea life thus far had not been what my fancy painted it, and I feared that the reality, as time went on, would be altogether unlike what I had seen in my dreams. I think, too, that David had the same thought in his mind; but both of us had the good sense to keep our thoughts to ourselves and make no attempt to go ashore. I remembered what Haines had told me the day before, and did not make any exposition of my ignorance of marine ways.