Chapter 59

THE LAST END OF JACKSON

"Off Cape Cod!" said the steward, coming forward from the quarter-deck,
where the captain had just been taking his noon observation; sweeping
the vast horizon with his quadrant, like a dandy circumnavigating the
dress-circle of an amphitheater with his glass.

"Off Cape Cod!"

and in the shore-bloom that came to us--even from that desert of
sand-hillocks--methought I could almost distinguish the fragrance of the
rose-bush my sisters and I had planted, in our far inland garden at
home. Delicious odors are those of our mother Earth; which like a
flower-pot set with a thousand shrubs, greets the eager voyager from
afar.

The breeze was stiff, and so drove us along that we turned over two
broad, blue furrows from our bows, as we plowed the watery prairie. By
night it was a reef-topsail-breeze; but so impatient was the captain to
make his port before a shift of wind overtook us, that even yet we
carried a main-topgallant-sail, though the light mast sprung like a
switch.

In the second dog-watch, however, the breeze became such, that at last
the order was given to douse the top-gallant-sail, and clap a reef into
all three top-sails.

While the men were settling away the halyards on deck, and before they
had begun to haul out the reef-tackles, to the surprise of several,
Jackson came up from the forecastle, and, for the first time in four
weeks or more, took hold of a rope.

Like most seamen, who during the greater part of a voyage, have been off
duty from sickness, he was, perhaps, desirous, just previous to entering
port, of reminding the captain of his existence, and also that he
expected his wages; but, alas! his wages proved the wages of sin.

At no time could he better signalize his disposition to work, than upon
an occasion like the present; which generally attracts every soul on
deck, from the captain to the child in the steerage.

His aspect was damp and death-like; the blue hollows of his eyes were
like vaults full of snakes; and issuing so unexpectedly from his dark
tomb in the forecastle, he looked like a man raised from the dead.

Before the sailors had made fast the reef-tackle, Jackson was tottering
up the rigging; thus getting the start of them, and securing his place
at the extreme weather-end of the topsail-yard--which in reefing is
accounted the post of honor. For it was one of the characteristics of
this man, that though when on duty he would shy away from mere dull work
in a calm, yet in tempest-time he always claimed the van, and would
yield it to none; and this, perhaps, was one cause of his unbounded
dominion over the men.

Soon, we were all strung along the main-topsail-yard; the ship