The Sea-Witch
THE SEA-WITCH. CHAPTER I. OUTWARD BOUND. OUR story opens in that broad, far-reaching expanse of water which lies deep and blue between the two hemispheres, some fifteen degrees north of the equator, in the latitude of Cuba and the Cape Verd Islands. The delightful trade winds had not fanned the sea on a finer summer's day for a twelvemonth, and the waves were daintily swelling upon the heaving bosom of the deep, as though indicating the respiration of the ocean. It was scarcely a day's sail beyond the flow of the Caribbean Sea, that one of those noblest results of man's handiwork, a fine ship, might have been seen gracefully ploughing her course through the sky-blue waters of the Atlantic. She was close-hauled on the larboard tack, steering east-southeast, and to a sailor's eye presented a certain indescribable
work,--if you have the command, and you and Oliver idle away the time,
and when my sled is loaded, yours has but little wood in it, you would
be more to blame than Oliver."
"What, if I didn't play any more than Oliver?"
"Yes," said Jonas, "because you are responsible. It is your duty to be
industrious, and it is also your duty to see that Oliver is industrious,
if you are the director,--so that you neglect two duties.
"It is a good plan, too," said Jonas, "for a director to give his
directions in a mild and gentle tone. Some boys are very domineering and
authoritative in their manner."
"How do you mean?" said Josey.
"Why, they would say, for example, 'Get out of the way, John, quick.'
Whereas, it would be better to say, 'John, you are in the way, where we
want to come along.' Some men give their directions with great noise and
vociferation, and others give them quietly and gently."
"I shouldn't think they'd mind 'em," said Josey.
"Yes," said Jonas. "Directions ought to be given very distinctly, so
as to be plainly understood; but they are not obeyed any better for
violence and noise in giving them.
THE SEA-WITCH. CHAPTER I. OUTWARD BOUND. OUR story opens in that broad, far-reaching expanse of water which lies deep and blue between the two hemispheres, some fifteen degrees north of the equator, in the latitude of Cuba and the Cape Verd Islands. The delightful trade winds had not fanned the sea on a finer summer's day for a twelvemonth, and the waves were daintily swelling upon the heaving bosom of the deep, as though indicating the respiration of the ocean. It was scarcely a day's sail beyond the flow of the Caribbean Sea, that one of those noblest results of man's handiwork, a fine ship, might have been seen gracefully ploughing her course through the sky-blue waters of the Atlantic. She was close-hauled on the larboard tack, steering east-southeast, and to a sailor's eye presented a certain indescribable