Australian Tales - Setis

Sailors' Yarns!
“DID you ever sail from port on a Friday, Mr. Boomerang?” asked a
weather-beaten old skipper, who was walking the deck of his vessel,
smoking his pipe. It is not necessary to mention either the name of the
vessel, or the latitude and longitude of her position.
“Yes, captain, I have often sailed on short coasting trips on Friday; and
I can recollect on two occasions putting to sea on a long voyage on a
Friday.”
“Humph! and did you not get into some unlucky scrape or other before
the voyage ended?”
“We certainly did, sir,” I replied; “for each time we put back disabled.”
The captain chuckled, as though he rather enjoyed mischief, then gave
me a catalogue of disasters which were reported to have been caused by
certain captains recklessly persisting in sailing on that ill-famed day.
“But I should be more disposed to think that the disasters, which I
alluded to, captain, resulted from a desecration of Sabbath days, if I
believed that special days had any influence at all on the events of a
voyage: for on one occasion the ship was coaled on a Sunday, and the
second time we put back, the various congregations of worshipping
Christians in the town, off which we were anchored, were disturbed by
the ringing of blacksmiths' hammers, as they repaired certain machinery,
the breakage of which had obliged us to return to port.”
“Well, sir, there is a smacking of sound sense in your remarks,” said
the captain. “I have seen so many disasters happen to ships after sailing
on Sundays, that I have given up the practice entirely; for I believe illluck
attends it. I don't think I would trip my anchor, on that day, to oblige
my father, unless it were to get my ship out of danger, or some such
emergency. I will tell you what happened to me the very last time that I
got under way on a Sunday, I could give you plenty more examples of
the same sort, but one fact is as good as forty to elucidate the point I am
arguing; and I don't want to spin you too many of these dry yarns, lest
you should scud away below, and leave me to talk to the moon.
“I was once upon a time lying in a certain port to the northward of
Sydney, with a fleet of other vessels, waiting for a fair wind. There were
not so many steam-tugs in those days as there are now, and vessels of
heavy draught of water usually waited for a leading wind out of the
harbour. One Sunday morning I roused out of my berth unusually early,