Martin hadn't the remotest idea of how to provision a ship. He had crates of cabbages, lemons, apples, carrots, and other perishables piled high on deck, most of which had to be tossed over the side before many days had passed. He had enough spices on hand to supply several large restaurants for years.
Once a storm was welcome-it saved their lives. During a frightful gale, one of the Japanese boys failed to close the tanks containing the drinking water. In the morning, not a drop remained in any of the storage tanks, and there was left about ten gallons in a small auxiliary tank. Immediately, Jack put each member of the party on an allowance of one quart a day.
It is difficult for anyone who has never experienced a shortage of water to realize just how inadequate a quart a day is for comfort, especially in the tropics, where one perspires copiously. As the days went by, the thirst became maddening. Martin dreamed of the Saline River and of the old mill. He dreamed of carrying precious water to fill his mother's washtubs. And always as he was about to bury his face in it he would awaken with a gasp.
Martin could hardly walk. The land tilted just like the ship, and for days he would find himself spreading his feet apart to keep from falling.
They had bad weather from the start, mounting to the proportions of heavy storms. The light boat pitched like a cork. It leaked like the proverbial sieve. The sides leaked, the bottom leaked; water poured in, ruining the tools in the engine room and spoiling a good part of three months' provisions. The coal had been delivered in rotten potato sacks and was washing through the scuppers into the sea. The floors of the galley and cabins were ankle-deep in water.
For nearly five months the Snark remained in the Hawaiian Islands, being completely overhauled from stem to stern. The engine was put into excellent shape; the boat had a full new coat of paint and, with the exception of Mr. and Mrs. London and Martin, a brand-new crew.
Of course, all were desperately seasick. Tochigi lay in his bunk most of the time as if paralyzed; Martin made for his at every opportunity.
Martin was advanced to engineer and was beside himself with pride. He had learned all the idiosyncrasies of the seventy-horse-power engine and was undoubtedly worthy of the promotion, but I suspect that Jack did it to get a new cook. Martin wrote to Jess Utz, his cooking teacher, "I guess, Jess, my cooking wasn't so much of a success-they've hired someone else."
Wada, who was Japanese, was a very good cook and could speak fluent English. Nakata, also Japanese, was signed as cabin boy and could speak no English. A Dutchman who gave only the name of Herman was a good natured deep-sea sailor whom they secured to round out the crew. He worked with great goodwill in storm or calm, always singing in one or another of a half-dozen languages.
Once a storm was welcome-it saved their lives. During a frightful gale, one of the Japanese boys failed to close the tanks containing the drinking water. In the morning, not a drop remained in any of the storage tanks, and there was left about ten gallons in a small auxiliary tank. Immediately, Jack put each member of the party on an allowance of one quart a day.
It is difficult for anyone who has never experienced a shortage of water to realize just how inadequate a quart a day is for comfort, especially in the tropics, where one perspires copiously. As the days went by, the thirst became maddening. Martin dreamed of the Saline River and of the old mill. He dreamed of carrying precious water to fill his mother's washtubs. And always as he was about to bury his face in it he would awaken with a gasp.
Martin could hardly walk. The land tilted just like the ship, and for days he would find himself spreading his feet apart to keep from falling.
They had bad weather from the start, mounting to the proportions of heavy storms. The light boat pitched like a cork. It leaked like the proverbial sieve. The sides leaked, the bottom leaked; water poured in, ruining the tools in the engine room and spoiling a good part of three months' provisions. The coal had been delivered in rotten potato sacks and was washing through the scuppers into the sea. The floors of the galley and cabins were ankle-deep in water.
For nearly five months the Snark remained in the Hawaiian Islands, being completely overhauled from stem to stern. The engine was put into excellent shape; the boat had a full new coat of paint and, with the exception of Mr. and Mrs. London and Martin, a brand-new crew.
Of course, all were desperately seasick. Tochigi lay in his bunk most of the time as if paralyzed; Martin made for his at every opportunity.
Martin was advanced to engineer and was beside himself with pride. He had learned all the idiosyncrasies of the seventy-horse-power engine and was undoubtedly worthy of the promotion, but I suspect that Jack did it to get a new cook. Martin wrote to Jess Utz, his cooking teacher, "I guess, Jess, my cooking wasn't so much of a success-they've hired someone else."
Wada, who was Japanese, was a very good cook and could speak fluent English. Nakata, also Japanese, was signed as cabin boy and could speak no English. A Dutchman who gave only the name of Herman was a good natured deep-sea sailor whom they secured to round out the crew. He worked with great goodwill in storm or calm, always singing in one or another of a half-dozen languages.
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About Jasek Prague: There is no doubt about it, he has a love for popcorn. The Best Popcorn makers. Check out Presto Popcorn Maker.
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