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Updated: May 6, 2025
"I don't know that I can stand him aboard the Seamew much longer. He attends to everybody's business but his own." "He means you no good, Captain Latham," she said frankly. "To-night he was repeating that silly story about the Seamew being haunted." "Cat's-foot!" ejaculated Tunis. "I wish I'd fired old Horry Newbegin for starting that." "But 'Rion keeps it up."
This misfortune had kept Tunis Latham out of a command of his own until he was thirty; for Cape Cod boys that come of masters' families and are born navigators usually tread their own decks years before the age at which Tunis was pacing that of the Seamew on this summer day. "How does she handle now, Horry?" asked the skipper, wheeling suddenly to face the old steersman.
I own the schooner Seamew, and command her. We are going to run back and forth from Boston to the Cape Cape Cod." "Oh! I could scarcely fill a position on your schooner, Captain Latham." She smiled again. It was a weary smile, however, not like the former flash of amusement she had shown. Her head drooped as her mind sank into unhappy retrospection.
"Why, here's Orion Latham!" exclaimed one girl. "I didn't know the Seamew was in." "We just made it by the skin of our teeth," Orion said, making it a point to shake hands with Sheila. "How are you, Miss Bostwick? I never did see such a Jonah of an old tub as that dratted schooner! I thought she never would get back this trip."
The captain of the Seamew could box the compass with the next seafarer, but he lost all idea of the points on the card before he had been three minutes in the store, and he had to hail a floor-walker to get his bearings. "Lace counter? Right this way, sir. Yes, sir. Just over there. Our er Miss Bostwick will serve you, sir. Forward!"
An hour after Pensacola fell, the Spanish ships struck their colors to Champmeslin. Our greatest loss was the total destruction of the Seamew, blown up by a red-hot shot, which fell in her powder magazine. At the surrender I caught my old commander's eye. He motioned me to draw nearer.
Had he not looked so deep into her violet eyes at the instant of their first meeting, perhaps the captain of the Seamew would never have given her the second glance. There was a timidity about her, a shrinking in her very attitude, that would naturally displease even an observant person. Her nose, mouth, and chin, were only ordinarily well formed. Nothing remarkable at all about them.
The schooner Seamew, of London, Captain Wilson master and owner, had just finished loading at Northfleet with cement for Brittlesea. Every inch of space was packed.
We exchanged no more words that day.... Let me hear that you have clambered up to Lover's Seat; it is as fine in that neighborhood as Juan Fernandez, as lonely, too, when the fishing-boats are not out; I have sat for hours staring upon a shipless sea. The salt sea is never as grand as when it is left to itself. One cock-boat spoils it; a seamew or two improves it.
In less rapid times, before the invention of the electric telegraph and other scientific luxuries, Captain Gething would have remained quietly on board the Seamew, and been delivered to his expectant family without any further trouble. As it was, the message in which Captain Wilson took such pride, reached Mrs. Gething just as Mr.
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