Chapter 3

"God of the dark and heavy deep!
The waves lie sleeping on the sands,
Till the fierce trumpet of the storm
Hath summon'd up their thundering bands;
Then the white sails are clashed like foam,
Or hurry trembling o'er the seas,
Till calmed by thee, the sinking gale
Serenely breathes, Depart in peace."

Peabody.

The day that preceded the night of which we are about to speak, was
misty, with the wind fresh at east-south-east. The Rancocus was running
off, south-west, and consequently was going with the wind free. Captain
Crutchely had one failing, and it was a very bad one for a ship-master;
he would drink rather too much grog, at his dinner. At all other times
he might have been called a sober man; out, at dinner, he would gulp
down three or four glasses of rum and water. In that day rum was much
used in America, far more than brandy; and every dinner-table, that had
the smallest pretension to be above that of the mere labouring man, had
at least a bottle of one of these liquors on it. Wine was not commonly
seen at the cabin-table; or, if seen, it was in those vessels that had
recently been in the vine-growing countries, and on special occasions.
Captain Crutchely was fond of the pleasures of the table in another
sense. His eating was on a level with his drinking; and for pigs, and
poultry, and vegetables that would keep at sea, his ship was always a
little remarkable.

On the day in question, it happened to be the birthday of Mrs.
Crutchely, and the captain had drunk even a little more than common.
Now, when a man is in the habit of drinking rather more than is good for
him, an addition of a little more than common is very apt to upset him.
Such, a sober truth, was the case with the commander of the Rancocus,
when he left the dinner-table, at the time to which there is particular
allusion. Mark, himself, was perfectly sober. The taste of rum was
unpleasant to him, nor did his young blood and buoyant spirits crave its
effects. If he touched it at all, it was in very small quantities, and
greatly diluted with water. He saw the present condition of his
superior, therefore, with regret; and this so much the more, from the
circumstance that an unpleasant report was prevailing in the ship, that
white water had been seen ahead, during a clear moment, by a man who had
just come from aloft. This report the mate repeated to the captain,
accompanying it with a suggestion that it might be well to shorten sail,
round-to, and sound. But Captain Crutchely treated the report with no
respect, swearing that the men were always fancying they were going
ashore on coral, and that the voyage would last for ever, did he comply
with all their conceits of this nature. Unfortunately, the