In the fair land of Nova Scotia, a maritime province, there is a ridge called North Mountain, overlooking the Bay of Fundy on one side and the fertile Annapolis valley on the other. On the northern slope of the range grows the hardy spruce-tree, well adapted for ship-timbers, of which many vessels of all classes have been built. The people of this coast, hardy, robust, and strong, are disposed to compete in the world's commerce, and it is nothing against the master mariner if the birthplace mentioned on his certificate be ...
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In the fair land of Nova Scotia, a maritime province, there is a ridge called North Mountain, overlooking the Bay of Fundy on one side and the fertile Annapolis valley on the other. On the northern slope of the range grows the hardy spruce-tree, well adapted for ship-timbers, of which many vessels of all classes have been built. The people of this coast, hardy, robust, and strong, are disposed to compete in the world's commerce, and it is nothing against the master mariner if the birthplace mentioned on his certificate be Nova Scotia. I was born in a cold spot, on coldest North Mountain, on a cold February 20, though I am a citizen of the United States-a naturalized Yankee, if it may be said that Nova Scotians are not Yankees in the truest sense of the word. On both sides my family were sailors; and if any Slocum should be found not seafaring, he will show at least an inclination to whittle models of boats and contemplate voyages. My father was the sort of man who, if wrecked on a desolate island, would find his way home, if he had a jack-knife and could find a tree. He was a good judge of a boat, but the old clay farm which some calamity made his was an anchor to him. He was not afraid of a capful of wind, and he never took a back seat at a camp-meeting or a good, old-fashioned revival. As for myself, the wonderful sea charmed me from the first. At the age of eight I had already been afloat along with other boys on the bay, with chances greatly in favor of being drowned. When a lad I filled the important post of cook on a fishing-schooner; but I was not long in the galley, for the crew mutinied at the appearance of my first duff, and "chucked me out" before I had a chance to shine as a culinary artist. The next step toward the goal of happiness found me before the mast in a full-rigged ship bound on a foreign voyage. Thus I came "over the bows," and not in through the cabin windows, to the command of a ship. - Taken from "Sailing Alone Around The World" written by Joshua Slocum
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Today, lots of people have sailed around the world solo. But Joshua Slocum was the first. His story is interesting and told with a sly sense of humor that makes it very readable today.
I bought a second copy of this book from Alibris to donate to my daughter's summer house for others to enjoy.
bfloyd4445@aol.com
Nov 17, 2014
a real sailor
What he did was not easy but he also did not have to contend with boating traffic, supertankers, flotsam of ship parts and containers, so in many ways Slocums trip was easier than todays circumnavigators would be. But his book gives modern sailors a glimpse into the past and is a must read for anyone interested in the oceans.
seanieman
Nov 4, 2010
Classic story of circumnavigation when foul weather gear was oilskins, cold weather clothing was wool and your communication up link was the stars. Unbelievable tale, told first hand.
PreacherDavidPotts
Jun 18, 2009
inspiring true story
Anyone who has spent much time on the water, or ever longed to sail will find this book to be a great inspiration. The casualness with which he treats many of the frightful circumstances through which he bore up should embolden the hearts of readers who are tired of living in a culture of victimhood blended with political correctness. This is a great book to read. Read it yourself or read it to your children.
RiverBoy
May 16, 2007
Island's and continents around the world
This book contains the story of Joshua Slocum, a sailor unwilling or unable to adapt to the coming of steamboats, who, in the late 1890's, rehabilitates a decripit boat and puts to sea to circumnavigate the world.
He crosses the Atlantic then heads south recrossing the Atlantic on his way to the Magellan Straits. Troubles ensue with bad weather and the indigenous Fuegians. He crosses the Pacific, the Indian and on home again.
If you are expecting a book with soul searching, clear prose explaining what 42 days at sea by yourself feels like, or the joy and beauty of the natural world, look elsewhere. The reader isn't even treated to a treatise on why tradition triumphs over technology.
Much of the book ends up being a litany of Joshua's time on shore visiting with Governors, Presidents, Generals and the like. You would assume from this book that the boat was little more than a means to bridge the distances between one island and another.
If you want epics about man against nature (or man against himself), I suggest Desparate Voyage or any of the many books on sailing in the polar regions.
In the end the book is a pleasant way to pass sometime, but not as satisfying as I hoped.