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- 1299
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:18.534Z
- extracted_by
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- start_line
- 1260
- text
- removed the compass, that glistened to us like a human eye. Then
filling up the vacancy with biscuit, we again made all tight, driving
down the hoops till they would budge no more.
At first we were puzzled to fix our compass. But at last the Skyeman
out knife, and cutting a round hole in the after-most thwart, or seat
of the boat, there inserted the little brass case containing the
needle.
Over the stern of the boat, with some old canvas which my Viking’s
forethought had provided, we spread a rude sort of awning, or rather
counterpane. This, however, proved but little or no protection from the
glare of the sun; for the management of the main-sail forbade any
considerable elevation of the shelter. And when the breeze was fresh,
we were fain to strike it altogether; for the wind being from aft, and
getting underneath the canvas, almost lifted the light boat’s stem into
the air, vexing the counterpane as if it were a petticoat turning a
gusty corner. But when a mere breath rippled the sea, and the sun was
fiery hot, it was most pleasant to lounge in this shady asylum. It was
like being transferred from the roast to cool in the cupboard. And
Jarl, much the toughest fowl of the two, out of an abundant kindness
for his comrade, during the day voluntarily remained exposed at the
helm, almost two hours to my one. No lady-like scruples had he, the old
Viking, about marring his complexion, which already was more than
bronzed. Over the ordinary tanning of the sailor, he seemed masked by a
visor of japanning, dotted all over with freckles, so intensely yellow,
and symmetrically circular, that they seemed scorched there by a
burning glass.
In the tragico-comico moods which at times overtook me, I used to look
upon the brown Skyeman with humorous complacency. If we fall in with
cannibals, thought I, then, ready-roasted Norseman that thou art, shall
I survive to mourn thee; at least, during the period I revolve upon the
spit.
But of such a fate, it needs hardly be said, we had no apprehension.
- title
- Chunk 2