Chapter IV.
Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine,
And thrice again, to make up nine
Macbeth.
Baffling and light airs kept the Winkelried a long time nearly stationary,
and it was only by paying the greatest attention to trimming the sails and
to all the little minutiae of the waterman's art that the vessel was
worked into the eastern horn of the crescent, as the sun touched the hazy
line of the Jura. Here the wind tailed entirely, the surface of the lake
becoming as glassy and smooth as a mirror, and further motion, for the
time at least, was quite out of the question. The crew, perceiving the
hopelessness of their exertions, and fatigued with the previous toil,
threw themselves among the boxes and bales, and endeavored to catch a
little sleep, in anticipation of the north breeze, which, at this season
of the year, usually blew from the shores of Vaud within an hour or two of
the disappearance of the sun.
The deck of the bark was now left to the undisputed possession of her
passengers. The day had latterly been sultry, for the season, the even
water having cast back the hot rays in fierce reflection, and, as evening
drew on, a refreshing coolness came to relieve the densely packed and
scorching travellers.
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