The Last Entry

This story belongs to the year 1837, and was regarded by the generations of that and a succeeding time as the most miraculous of all the recorded deliverances from death at sea.

On the morning of November 21, 1837, the schooner _Mowbray_ lay at anchor abreast of Greenwich. In the fresh westerly wind you found the sun-white sparkle of winter. Buildings,...

It was dark when the _Mowbray_ brought up. The Gravesend lights trembled windily, and there was a dance of lanterns as of fireflies upon the breast of the stream. Mr. Vanderholt...

Next day they broached a cask of beef for the forecastle. The meat proved fairly sweet, and that and a kidful of currant-dumplings kept the men quiet. But on the following day t...

It was five days later, and in that time the _Mowbray_ had drawn four hundred miles closer to the Equator, still leaving a wide expanse of water to be measured. The weather had...

'No man in this ship puts me in irons,' said the boatswain, showing his teeth, as he squared up at Captain Glew, with his immensely thick arms covered with hair, arrows and cruc...

On the night of December 20, in the same year of the mutiny of the _Mowbray_, a large full-rigged ship, homeward bound, was, to the north of the Equator, stealing silently throu...

In the year of this story Old Leisure was still going to sea. He flourished as pleasantly upon the ocean as amidst the hens and dunghills, the milkmaids and dairies, of the Poys...

The wind that evening freshened out of the north-west glare of sunset. The sky thickened, and some small wings of scud flew south-east, bronzed by the western splendour dimming...