There was something grand and imposing about this fine old ship as
she moved majestically down the stream, her starboard tacks aboard, the
breeze filling her sails so nicely, for she had her royals set. Then her
new, white canvas contrasted so strikingly with the green hills that yet
shut her hull from view. Who could tell what might befall her in the
eventful voyage she was bound on?
A few minutes more and she braced her yards sharp and rounded the point,
and stood on her way down the Tappan Zee. Every outline of her hull now
came clearer and clearer. There were her heavy quarter-davits, her
hoisting gear, and whale-killing gear; her long, sharp boats, lashed so
carefully, some to her davits, others athwart her quarter-deck frames;
and about all of which there was a mysterious interest. These whale
ships were at that day an object of distrust in the minds of the honest
Dutchmen along the banks of the Hudson, who never saw them go to sea
without shaking their heads and predicting all sorts of disasters, such
as would be sure to bring ruin on the men unwise enough to risk their
money in such enterprises.
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