Many of the sailors affirmed that the monster could not pass there,
"that he was too big for that!"
The 6th of July, about three o'clock in the afternoon, the Abraham Lincoln,
at fifteen miles to the south, doubled the solitary island,
this lost rock at the extremity of the American continent, to which
some Dutch sailors gave the name of their native town, Cape Horn.
The course was taken towards the north-west, and the next day the screw
of the frigate was at last beating the waters of the Pacific.
"Keep your eyes open!" called out the sailors.
And they were opened widely. Both eyes and glasses, a little dazzled,
it is true, by the prospect of two thousand dollars, had not
an instant's repose.
I myself, for whom money had no charms, was not the least
attentive on board. Giving but few minutes to my meals,
but a few hours to sleep, indifferent to either rain or sunshine,
I did not leave the poop of the vessel. Now leaning on the netting
of the forecastle, now on the taffrail, I devoured with eagerness
the soft foam which whitened the sea as far as the eye could reach;
and how often have I shared the emotion of the majority of the crew,
when some capricious whale raised its black back above the waves!
The poop of the vessel was crowded on a moment.
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