Читать книгу Journal of a Residence in America - Fanny Kemble - Страница 17

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Towards evening got up and came on deck:—tremendous head wind, going off our course; pray Heaven we don't make an impromptu landing on Sable Island! Sat on the ship's side, watching the huge ocean gathering itself up into pitchy mountains, and rolling its vast ridges, one after another, against the good ship, who dipped, and dipped, and dived down into the black chasm, and then sprang up again, and rode over the swelling surges like an empress. The sky was a mass of stormy black, here and there edged with a copper-looking cloud, and breaking in one or two directions into pale silvery strata, that had an unhealthy lightning look: a heavy black squall lay ahead of us, like a dusky curtain, whence we saw the rain, fringe-like, pouring down against the horizon. The wind blew furiously. I got cradled among the ropes, so as not to be pitched off when the ship lurched, and enjoyed it all amazingly. It was sad and solemn, and, but for the excitement of the savage-looking waves, that every now and then lifted their overwhelming sides against us, it would have made me melancholy: but it stirred my spirits to ride over these huge sea-horses, that came bounding and bellowing round us. Remained till I was chilled with the bitter wind, and wet through with spray;—walked up and down the deck for some time—had scarce set foot within the round-house, when a sea took her in midships, and soused the loiterers. Sat up, or rather slept up, till ten o'clock, and then went down to bed. I took up Pelham to-day for a second—'t is amazingly clever, and like the thing it means to be, to boot. Heard something funny that I wish to remember—at a Methodist meeting, the singer who led the Psalm tune, finding that his concluding word, which was Jacob, had not syllables enough to fill up the music adequately, ended thus—Ja-a-a-a—Ja-a-a-a—fol-de-riddle—cob!—