501 Critical Reading Questions
Critical Reading Questions
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501 Critical Reading Questions
Critical Reading Questions
(1) (5) (10) (15) (20) (25) (30) fumes of the turtle-soup! At sea we do meet with rough weather at times; but, for roughing it out, give me a yacht. PASSAGE 2 My very first sea voyage was in a small merchant vessel out of New York called the Alba. I was only twelve years old at the time, and full of dreams of boundless adventure upon the high seas. I was to serve as the ship’s boy. I was given the post by my Uncle Joseph, the weath- ered old captain of the Alba who uttered few words, choosing to speak more with his menacing gaze than with his mouth. The moment I stepped upon the bustling deck my Uncle Joseph set me straight about shipboard life. There were to be no special privileges afforded to me because of our relations. I was to live and mess in the ‘tween decks with the other seamen, and because I was his nephew, I would proba- bly have to work twice as hard as the others to prove my worth. From that point on I was to refer to my uncle as “Sir” or “Captain,” and only speak to him when he addressed me. He then told me a bit about the Alba. I learned that she was a cutter, and all cutters were fore-and-aft rigged, and possessed only a single mast. After my brief lesson, he then sent me below deck to get myself situated. What I found when I dismounted the ladder below was an entirely different world than the orderly brightness of the top deck. Here was a stuffy and dimly lit space barely tall enough for me to stand up straight in. It was the middle of July, and the heat was oppressive. There seemed to be no air at all, there certainly were no windows, and the stench that rose up from the bilge was so pungent it made me gag. From the shadows, a pair of eyes materialized. They belonged to a grimy boy no older than me. “Hello mate, you must be the new lubber just shipped aboard. I’m Nigel. Follow me, we’re just in time for dinner.” My new friend led me into the tiny dining room where the crew messed. The men ate shoulder to shoulder on wooden tables bolted to the deck. The horrific smell of so many men crammed together was overpowering. We received our food from the ship’s cook, a portly man in a filthy apron who, with the dirtiest hands I’d ever seen, ladled us out a sort of stew. We found two open spots at a mess table and sat down to eat. The stew was lukewarm and the mysterious meat in it was so tough I could barely chew it. I managed to swallow a few spoonfuls and pushed my dish aside. 2 3 2 501 Download 0.98 Mb. Do'stlaringiz bilan baham: |
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