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Updated: June 19, 2025
"Loud and clear you'd holler, because the wind might be high." "Loud and clear, yes 'Let go your wind'ard dory! like that. And 'Set to the west'ard, or the east'ard, whatever it was according to the tide, you know.
"Woman," said he, "I will have forgotten if the skiff is high on the shore-head, for the wind is away to the west'ard," and he went out into the night. In an hour maybe he was in again and the cruisie lighted, and again he fell on his knees by the side of the bed and prayed aloud, and his wife would be hearing in her sleep. "Lord, look on Thy servant.
They say," here he paused, fumbled in his breast-pocket, and presently produced the dirty, greasy slip of paper, with the appearance of which I was now becoming familiar, and carefully unfolding it, read: "`Dhraw a loine from one black rock to the other, and on this loine project another to the summit of the peak, makin' an angle of sixty-foive degrees to the west'ard.
In boat, dory and on deck, every brain glowed to understand and every heart pumped to obey. "Up with your wheel, George, and let her swing by. Stea-dy. Ready in the boat. Steady your wheel. Are you ready in the boat? Let her swing off a little more, George. Steady hold her there. Stand by in the boat. Now then now! Cast off your painter, cast off and pull to the west'ard. And drive her!
What's running in a man's head, do you think, in the long winter nights when he's walking the deck, with the high heavens above and the great, black rolling sea around him? What's in his head when, trawls hauled and his fish aboard, when the danger and the hard work are mostly by, his vessel's going to the west'ard? What when he's an hour to rest and he's lying, smoking and thinking, in his bunk?
And the result proved the soundness of his theory, for on the sixteenth day of our quest, about seven bells in the afternoon watch, the look-out hailed the deck with: "Large sail two points abaft the weather beam, steerin' to the west'ard under stunsails!" "How far away is she?" hailed the skipper. "Her r'yals is just showin' above the horizon, sir," answered the man.
We had not weathered Finisterre yet, though we had been bucketing about in the Bay now for over three days; the wind, which had been blowing in strong squalls from the north'ard and west'ard, suddenly backing to the south-east and coming on to blow harder than ever.
"There are too many low whites comin' here. When Moorea had only sail from Tahiti, the blackguards did not come, but now the dirty gasolene boat brings them. I must be off to the west'ard, to Aitutaki or Penrhyn." Poor Mac! he never made his westward until he went west in soldier parlance. McHenry, on our way back to Faatoai, said: "McTavish is a bloody fool.
Small pod o'cows, an' one'r two bulls layin' off to west'ard of 'em." Down went the boats into the water quietly enough, we all scrambled in and shoved off. A stroke or two of the oars were given to get clear of the ship, and one another, then oars were shipped and up went the sails. As I took my allotted place at the main-sheet, and the beautiful craft started off like some big bird, Mr.
While Moses interpreted, Arnalooa and Okatook, being privileged members of the tribe, crossed over to Edith's room. "Well, what says he?" inquired Stanley, at the end of a long address which the giant had delivered to Moses. "Him say he heered we have come to trade, from Eskeemo to west'ard, and so him come for to see us." "A most excellent reason," said Stanley. "Has he brought any furs?"
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