Lab
Library
Journal
Shop
Sign in
to keep
1
148
The Country of the Pointed Firs
·
Sarah Orne Jewett
18
“I
had
a
valuable
cargo
of
general
merchandise
from
the
London
docks
to
Fort
Churchill,
a
station
of
the
old
company
on
Hudson's
Bay,”
said
the
captain
earnestly.
“We
were
delayed
in
lading,
and
baffled
by
head
winds
and
a
heavy
tumbling
sea
all
the
way
north-about
and
across.
Then
the
fog
kept
us
off
the
coast;
and
when
I
made
port
at
last,
it
was
too
late
to
delay
in
those
northern
waters
with
such
a
vessel
and
such
a
crew
as
I
had.
They
cared
for
nothing,
and
idled
me
into
a
fit
of
sickness;
but
my
first
mate
was
a
good,
excellent
man,
with
no
more
idea
of
being
frozen
in
there
until
spring
than
I
had,
so
we
made
what
speed
we
could
to
get
clear
of
Hudson's
Bay
and
off
the
coast.
I
owned
an
eighth
of
the
vessel,
and
he
owned
a
sixteenth
of
her.
She
was
a
full-rigged
ship,
called
the
Minerva,
but
she
was
getting
old
and
leaky.
I
meant
it
should
be
my
last
v'y'ge
in
her,
and
so
it
proved.
She
had
been
an
excellent
vessel
in
her
day.
Of
the
cowards
aboard
her
I
can't
say
so
much.”
“Then
you
were
wrecked?”
I
asked,
as
he
made
a
long
pause.
“I
wa'n't
caught
astern
o'
the
lighter
by
any
fault
of
mine,”
said
the
captain
gloomily.
“We
left
Fort
Churchill
and
run
out
into
the
Bay
with
a
light
pair
o'
heels;
but
I
had
been
vexed
to
death
with
their
red-tape
rigging
at
the
company's
office,
and
chilled
with
stayin'
on
deck
an'
tryin'
to
hurry
up
things,
and
when
we
were
well
out
o'
sight
o'
land,
headin'
for
Hudson's
Straits,
I
had
a
bad
turn
o'
some
sort
o'
fever,
and
had
to
stay
below.
The
days
were
getting
short,
and
we
made
good
runs,
all
well
on
board
but
me,
and
the
crew
done
their
work
by
dint
of
hard
driving.”
Marker
Marker
Fine marker
White-out
Fine white-out
Circle
Paint
Unmarker
Hand
Scalpel
Dice
Sieve
Purify
Undo
Redo
Start over
