Chapter 4

Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine,
And thrice again, to make up nine

Macbeth.

Baffling and light airs kept the Winkelried a long time nearly stationary,
and it was only by paying the greatest attention to trimming the sails and
to all the little minutiæ of the waterman's art that the vessel was
worked into the eastern horn of the crescent, as the sun touched the hazy
line of the Jura. Here the wind tailed entirely, the surface of the lake
becoming as glassy and smooth as a mirror, and further motion, for the
time at least, was quite out of the question. The crew, perceiving the
hopelessness of their exertions, and fatigued with the previous toil,
threw themselves among the boxes and bales, and endeavored to catch a
little sleep, in anticipation of the north breeze, which, at this season
of the year, usually blew from the shores of Vaud within an hour or two of
the disappearance of the sun.

The deck of the bark was now left to the undisputed possession of her
passengers. The day had latterly been sultry, for the season, the even
water having cast back the hot rays in fierce reflection, and, as evening
drew on, a refreshing coolness came to relieve the densely packed and
scorching travellers. The effect of such a change was like that which
would have been observed among a flock of heavily fleeced sheep, which,
after gasping for breath beneath trees and hedges, during the time of the
sun's power, are seen scattering over their pastures to feed, or to play
their antics, as a grateful shade succeeds to cool their panting sides.

Baptiste, as is but too apt to be the case with men possessed of brief
authority, during the day had mercilessly played the tyrant with all the
passengers that were beneath the privileged degrees, more than once
threatening to come to extremities with several, who had betrayed
restlessness under the restraint and suffering of their unaccustomed
situation. Perhaps there is no man who feels less for the complaints of
the novice than your weather-beaten and hardened mariner; for,
familiarized to the suffering and confinement of a vessel, and at liberty
himself to seek relief in his duties and avocations, he can scarcely enter
into the privations and embarrassments of those to whom all is so new and
painful. But, in the patron of the Winkelried, there existed a natural in
difference to the grievances of others, and a narrow selfishness of
disposition, in aid of the opinions which had been formed by a life of
hardship and exposure. He considered the vulgar passenger as so much
troublesome freight, which, while it brought the advantage of a higher
remuneration than the same cubic measurement of inanimate matter, had the
unpleasant drawback of volition and motion. With