Lem Harvey Quotes in Carry On, Mr. Bowditch
Prince looked at the paper covered with Nat’s tiny figures. “All that—to find one error? And there are probably two hundred thousand figures in those tables. Maybe that’s why he didn’t check every figure, Mr. Bowditch.”
“But he should have! Mathematics is nothing if it isn’t accurate! Men’s lives depend on the accuracy of those tables! It’s—it’s—criminal to have a mistake in a book like this! Do you hear me! It’s criminal! Men’s lives depend on these figures!” Nat hadn’t realized how he was shouting until he stopped. In the heavy silence he heard the bong-bong of the ship’s bell.
Captain Prince said, “Eight bells. Your watch, Mr. Bowditch. Men’s lives depend on that, too.”
“I—I’m dumb. About book learning, I mean. Do you think you could teach me anything without—bawling me out?”
“Yes. But I couldn’t teach you much as long as you bawled yourself out.”
“Huh…sir?”
“I mean—suppose you made a little mistake—or didn’t understand something right away. If you wasted my time cursing and yelling ‘I can’t get that! What’s the use?’ then I couldn’t teach you.”
“But—but—” For a long time Lem was silent. Then he chuckled. “Mr. Bowditch, sir, heaven help you, but you’ve got yourself a job.”
They shook hands on it.
Now, when Nat taught the rest of the crew, Lem stood listening […]. At first it was slow work. In spite of everything, Lem’s anger would blaze at himself and he would storm and rage. […But finally] Lem settled down, and he learned so fast that he surprised even Nat.
Now the meaning of the strange sailing time dawned on the crew. Nat looked at Mr. Cheevers and saw anger, amusement, and respect in his eyes. But the faces of the men before the mast were frightening to watch. Not two of the lot, Nat figured, had had the slightest intention of sailing on the Astrea. They had doubtless heard of the clever desertion of the other crew. They’d planned the same stunt, signed on for a square meal and a month’s pay. Now they faced months at sea—the terrors of the Cape—the grilling passage through the Sunda Strait—a layover in Batavia—where men died like flies.
Their baffled rage was naked on their faces.
“It seems Moore had figured 1800 was a Leap Year. So he had the calculations for the moon off. Seems like an awful little mistake in a book makes a big mistake in miles. That’s what I heard the mate say when we was trying to get off the reef. I don’t understand much about it. Don’t want to, I guess. You see, Mr. Bowditch, if he hadn’t been depending on the book, he’d have been sounding. Log, lead, and lookout. That’s the way to sail […;] we tried to run the boats in [… but] couldn’t see the rocks. When I come aground, I was the only one there.”
Nat said, “You’d have been safer heading straight out from shore.”
“Yeah,” Tim agreed. “I guess that ought to be in a book, too.” Then he flushed. “I didn’t mean it like it sounded […]. But—but—a book ain’t no good.”
Polly stopped smiling. “Aunt Mary, think of it this way; if a ship was aground off Salem Harbor—say on Rising States Ledge—or the Haste—every able-bodied man in Salem would be out there trying to save the crew, wouldn’t he?”
“Of course!”
“And the women wouldn’t try to stop them, would they? No matter how long and hard they worked? No matter if they were risking their lives?”
“No-o-o-o,” Mrs. Boardman admitted, “when a ship is in danger, men do everything they can.”
“Well, every ship is in danger, every time it sails,” Polly said. “But the more men know about navigation, the safer our ships will be, won’t they? Nat isn’t working to save just one ship. He’s working to make every ship safer every time it goes to sea. Every ship in America!” Polly was really warming to her idea. “Every ship in the world!”
Lem growled. “When did you last shoot the sun?”
“About three days ago.”
Lem gulped. “Three days? Seventy-two hours? And since then?”
“It’s simple mathematics, Lem. At such a speed, in so many hours, you log so many miles in a given direction. It’s—”
“Yeah,” Lem growled. “Seventy-two hours through the Roaring Forties. Seventy-two hours by dead reckoning, and then you enter Salem Harbor. Why, you…[…]” He slumped in a chair and stared at Nat.
Nat winked at Polly. “Have you any idea what’s the matter with him?”
Polly’s eyes danced. “He just doesn’t understand about you and mathematics, dear. Two plus two is four. It comes out right, doesn’t it?”
[Polly] looked at Nat with glowing eyes. “It’s really you! Captain Bowditch, F.A.A. and A.M., I’m very proud of you!” She blinked back sudden tears. “Oh, Nat, it’s been so long!”
Nat’s arm tightened around her. Somewhere out of the past a voice whispered, “A long time to sail by ash breeze.”
“Was it awfully hard?” Polly asked.
“Not too bad, Nat told her. “Rough weather sometimes. But I’ll say this for it—I was never becalmed!”
Lem Harvey Quotes in Carry On, Mr. Bowditch
Prince looked at the paper covered with Nat’s tiny figures. “All that—to find one error? And there are probably two hundred thousand figures in those tables. Maybe that’s why he didn’t check every figure, Mr. Bowditch.”
“But he should have! Mathematics is nothing if it isn’t accurate! Men’s lives depend on the accuracy of those tables! It’s—it’s—criminal to have a mistake in a book like this! Do you hear me! It’s criminal! Men’s lives depend on these figures!” Nat hadn’t realized how he was shouting until he stopped. In the heavy silence he heard the bong-bong of the ship’s bell.
Captain Prince said, “Eight bells. Your watch, Mr. Bowditch. Men’s lives depend on that, too.”
“I—I’m dumb. About book learning, I mean. Do you think you could teach me anything without—bawling me out?”
“Yes. But I couldn’t teach you much as long as you bawled yourself out.”
“Huh…sir?”
“I mean—suppose you made a little mistake—or didn’t understand something right away. If you wasted my time cursing and yelling ‘I can’t get that! What’s the use?’ then I couldn’t teach you.”
“But—but—” For a long time Lem was silent. Then he chuckled. “Mr. Bowditch, sir, heaven help you, but you’ve got yourself a job.”
They shook hands on it.
Now, when Nat taught the rest of the crew, Lem stood listening […]. At first it was slow work. In spite of everything, Lem’s anger would blaze at himself and he would storm and rage. […But finally] Lem settled down, and he learned so fast that he surprised even Nat.
Now the meaning of the strange sailing time dawned on the crew. Nat looked at Mr. Cheevers and saw anger, amusement, and respect in his eyes. But the faces of the men before the mast were frightening to watch. Not two of the lot, Nat figured, had had the slightest intention of sailing on the Astrea. They had doubtless heard of the clever desertion of the other crew. They’d planned the same stunt, signed on for a square meal and a month’s pay. Now they faced months at sea—the terrors of the Cape—the grilling passage through the Sunda Strait—a layover in Batavia—where men died like flies.
Their baffled rage was naked on their faces.
“It seems Moore had figured 1800 was a Leap Year. So he had the calculations for the moon off. Seems like an awful little mistake in a book makes a big mistake in miles. That’s what I heard the mate say when we was trying to get off the reef. I don’t understand much about it. Don’t want to, I guess. You see, Mr. Bowditch, if he hadn’t been depending on the book, he’d have been sounding. Log, lead, and lookout. That’s the way to sail […;] we tried to run the boats in [… but] couldn’t see the rocks. When I come aground, I was the only one there.”
Nat said, “You’d have been safer heading straight out from shore.”
“Yeah,” Tim agreed. “I guess that ought to be in a book, too.” Then he flushed. “I didn’t mean it like it sounded […]. But—but—a book ain’t no good.”
Polly stopped smiling. “Aunt Mary, think of it this way; if a ship was aground off Salem Harbor—say on Rising States Ledge—or the Haste—every able-bodied man in Salem would be out there trying to save the crew, wouldn’t he?”
“Of course!”
“And the women wouldn’t try to stop them, would they? No matter how long and hard they worked? No matter if they were risking their lives?”
“No-o-o-o,” Mrs. Boardman admitted, “when a ship is in danger, men do everything they can.”
“Well, every ship is in danger, every time it sails,” Polly said. “But the more men know about navigation, the safer our ships will be, won’t they? Nat isn’t working to save just one ship. He’s working to make every ship safer every time it goes to sea. Every ship in America!” Polly was really warming to her idea. “Every ship in the world!”
Lem growled. “When did you last shoot the sun?”
“About three days ago.”
Lem gulped. “Three days? Seventy-two hours? And since then?”
“It’s simple mathematics, Lem. At such a speed, in so many hours, you log so many miles in a given direction. It’s—”
“Yeah,” Lem growled. “Seventy-two hours through the Roaring Forties. Seventy-two hours by dead reckoning, and then you enter Salem Harbor. Why, you…[…]” He slumped in a chair and stared at Nat.
Nat winked at Polly. “Have you any idea what’s the matter with him?”
Polly’s eyes danced. “He just doesn’t understand about you and mathematics, dear. Two plus two is four. It comes out right, doesn’t it?”
[Polly] looked at Nat with glowing eyes. “It’s really you! Captain Bowditch, F.A.A. and A.M., I’m very proud of you!” She blinked back sudden tears. “Oh, Nat, it’s been so long!”
Nat’s arm tightened around her. Somewhere out of the past a voice whispered, “A long time to sail by ash breeze.”
“Was it awfully hard?” Polly asked.
“Not too bad, Nat told her. “Rough weather sometimes. But I’ll say this for it—I was never becalmed!”