Though we
were "flying light" as the term is--that is to say, though there was
little more in the ship's hold than ballast, and though she had
tolerably nimble heels, for what one might term a _country-wallah_--yet
the little ship was so bothered with head winds and light airs,
and long days of stagnation, that we had been several weeks afloat
before we managed to crawl to the Norrad of the Andaman parallels,
which yet left a long stretch of waters before us. If this remainder
of the ocean was not to be traversed more fleetly than the space we
had already measured, then it was certain we should be running short
of water many a long while before the Sandheads came within the
compass of our horizon, and to provide against the most horrible
situation that the crew of a ship can find themselves placed in, we
kept a bright look-out for vessels, and within four days managed to
speak two; but they had no water to spare, and we pushed on.
But within three days of our speaking the second of the two vessels we
sighted a third, a large barque, who at once backed her topsail to our
signals, and hailed us to know what we wanted. My captain, Mr. Roger
Blow, stood up in the mizzen-rigging and asked for water.
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