Sailing Alone Around the World

Sailing Alone Around the World

by Joshua Slocum

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Joshua Slocum, one of the most famous of American sea captains, really was "The First" to single-handedly circumnavigate the world. The epitome of Yankee independence, he had been captain of his own single-decker, the Aquidneck, and built the Liberdade but he was at loose-ends at fifty-one.

An old friend offered him the old oyster boat which he rebuilt into the 37' Spray and in 1895 he took off from Boston for the Straits of Gibraltar, sailed back across the Atlantic and around South America to the South Seas. Slocum is a captivating writer, observant, humorous, and evocative. And he had a way of dealing with adversity that was at times distinctly theatrical -- here he outwits determined pirates in Tierra del Fuego: I was not for letting on that I was alone, and so I stepped into the cabin, and, passing through the hold, came out at the fore-scuttle, changing my clothes as I went along. That made two men. Then the piece of bowsprit which I had sawed off at Buenos Aires, and which I had still on board, I arranged forward on the lookout, dressed as a seaman, attaching a line by which I could pull it into motion. That made three of us...

Discover for yourself why Slocum's book is called a sailor's Walden -- Jack London sailed the Pacific using it (The Cruise of the Snark, also available from The Narrative Press). Even if you're not planning a solo sailing trip, it's a wonderful adventure.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780486801254
Publisher: Dover Publications
Publication date: 01/17/2015
Sold by: Barnes & Noble
Format: NOOK Book
Pages: 336
Sales rank: 646,762
File size: 9 MB

About the Author

Joshua Slocum became a legend by being the first person to sail around the globe alone in 1895 in a thirty-seven-foot sloop, Spray, that he rebuilt himself from a derelict oyster sloop. He is possibly the best-known solo sailor ever to have lived.

Read an Excerpt

Sailing Alone Around the World

By Joshua Slocum, Thomas Fogarty, George Varian

Dover Publications, Inc.

Copyright © 1956 Dover Publications, Inc.
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-486-80125-4


A blue-nose ancestry with Yankee proclivities—Youthful fondness for the sea — Master of the ship Northern Light—Loss of the Aquidneck—Return home from Brazil in the canoe Liberdade— The gift of a "ship" — The rebuilding of the Spray — Conundrums in regard to finance and calking — The launching of the Spray.

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.

My best command was that of the magnificent ship Northern Light, of which I was part-owner. I had a right to be proud of her, for at that time — in the eighties — she was the finest American sailing-vessel afloat. Afterward I owned and sailed the Aquidneck, a little bark which of all man's handiwork seemed to me the nearest to perfection of beauty, and which in speed, when the wind blew, asked no favors of steamers. I had been nearly twenty years a shipmaster when I quit her deck on the coast of Brazil, where she was wrecked. My home voyage to New York with my family was made in the canoe Liberdade, without accident.

My voyages were all foreign. I sailed as freighter and trader principally to China, Australia, and Japan, and among the Spice Islands. Mine was not the sort of life to make one long to coil up one's ropes on land, the customs and ways of which I had finally almost forgotten. And so when times for freighters got bad, as at last they did, and I tried to quit the sea, what was there for an old sailor to do? I was born in the breezes, and I had studied the sea as perhaps few men have studied it, neglecting all else. Next in attractiveness, after seafaring, came ship-building. I longed to be master in both professions, and in a small way, in time, I accomplished my desire. From the decks of stout ships in the worst gales I had made calculations as to the size and sort of ship safest for all weather and all seas. Thus the voyage which I am now to narrate was a natural outcome not only of my love of adventure, but of my lifelong experience.

One midwinter day of 1892, in Boston, where I had been cast up from old ocean, so to speak, a year or two before, I was cogitating whether I should apply for a command, and again eat my bread and butter on the sea, or go to work at the shipyard, when I met an old acquaintance, a whaling-captain, who said: "Come to Fairhaven and I'll give you a ship. But," he added, "she wants some repairs." The captain's terms, when fully explained, were more than satisfactory to me. They included all the assistance I would require to fit the craft for sea. I was only too glad to accept, for I had already found that I could not obtain work in the shipyard without first paying fifty dollars to a society, and as for a ship to command — there were not enough ships to go round. Nearly all our tall vessels had been cut down for coal-barges, and were being ignominiously towed by the nose from port to port, while many worthy captains addressed themselves to Sailors' Snug Harbor.

The next day I landed at Fairhaven, opposite New Bedford, and found that my friend had something of a joke on me. For seven years the joke had been on him. The "ship" proved to be a very antiquated sloop called the Spray, which the neighbors declared had been built in the year 1. She was affectionately propped up in a field, some distance from salt water, and was covered with canvas. The people of Fairhaven, I hardly need say, are thrifty and observant. For seven years they had asked, "I wonder what Captain Eben Pierce is going to do with the old Spray?" The day I appeared there was a buzz at the gossip exchange: at last some one had come and was actually at work on the old Spray. "Breaking her up, I s'pose?" "No; going to rebuild her." Great was the amazement. "Will it pay?" was the question which for a year or more I answered by declaring that I would make it pay.

My ax felled a stout oak-tree near by for a keel, and Farmer Howard, for a small sum of money, hauled in this and enough timbers for the frame of the new vessel. I rigged a steam-box and a pot for a boiler. The timbers for ribs, being straight saplings, were dressed and steamed till supple, and then bent over a log, where they were secured till set. Something tangible appeared every day to show for my labor, and the neighbors made the work sociable. It was a great day in the Spray shipyard when her new stem was set up and fastened to the new keel. Whaling-captains came from far to survey it. With one voice they pronounced it "A 1," and in their opinion "fit to smash ice." The oldest captain shook my hand warmly when the breast-hooks were put in, declaring that he could see no reason why the Spray should not "cut in bow-head" yet off the coast of Greenland. The much-esteemed stem-piece was from the butAt of the smartest kind of a pasture oak. It afterward split a coral patch in two at the Keeling Islands, and did not receive a blemish. Better timber for a ship than pasture white oak never grew. The breast-hooks, as well as all the ribs, were of this wood, and were steamed and bent into shape as required. It was hard upon March when I began work in earnest; the weather was cold; still, there were plenty of inspectors to back me with advice. When a whaling-captain hove in sight I just rested on my adz awhile and "gammed" with him.

New Bedford, the home of whaling-captains, is connected with Fairhaven by a bridge, and the walking is good. They never "worked along up" to the shipyard too often for me. It was the charming tales about arctic whaling that inspired me to put a double set of breast-hooks in the Spray, that she might shunt ice.

The seasons came quickly while I worked. Hardly were the ribs of the sloop up before apple-trees were in bloom. Then the daisies and the cherries came soon after. Close by the place where the old Spray had now dissolved rested the ashes of John Cook, a revered Pilgrim father. So the new Spray rose from hallowed ground. From the deck of the new craft I could put out my hand and pick cherries that grew over the little grave. The planks for the new vessel, which I soon came to put on, were of Georgia pine an inch and a half thick. The operation of putting them on was tedious, but, when on, the calking was easy. The outward edges stood slightly open to receive the calking, but the inner edges were so close that I could not see daylight between them. All the butts were fastened by through bolts, with screw-nuts tightening them to the timbers, so that there would be no complaint from them. Many bolts with screw-nuts were used in other parts of the construction, in all about a thousand. It was my purpose to make my vessel stout and strong.

Now, it is a law in Lloyd's that the Jane repaired all out of the old until she is entirely new is still the Jane. The Spray changed her being so gradually that it was hard to say at what point the old died or the new took birth, and it was no matter. The bulwarks I built up of white-oak stanchions fourteen inches high, and covered with seven-eighth-inch white pine. These stanchions, mortised through a two-inch covering-board, I calked with thin cedar wedges. They have remained perfectly tight ever since. The deck I made of one-and-a-half-inch by three-inch white pine spiked to beams, six by six inches, of yellow or Georgia pine, placed three feet apart. The deck-in closures were one over the aperture of the main hatch, six feet by six, for a cooking-galley, and a trunk farther aft, about ten feet by twelve, for a cabin. Both of these rose about three feet above the deck, and were sunk sufficiently into the hold to afford head-room. In the spaces along the sides of the cabin, under the deck, I arranged a berth to sleep in, and shelves for small storage, not forgetting a place for the medicine-chest. In the midship hold, that is, the space between cabin and galley, under the deck, was room for provision of water, salt beef, etc., ample for many months.

The hull of my vessel being now put together as strongly as wood and iron could make her, and the various rooms partitioned off, I set about "calking ship." Grave fears were entertained by some that at this point I should fail. I myself gave some thought to the advisability of a "professional calker." The very first blow I struck on the cotton with the calking-iron, which I thought was right, many others thought wrong. "It'll crawl!" cried a man from Marion, passing with a basket of clams on his back. "It'll crawl!" cried another from West Island, when he saw me driving cotton into the seams. Bruno simply wagged his tail. Even Mr. Ben J——, a noted authority on whaling-ships, whose mind, however, was said to totter, asked rather confidently if I did not think "it would crawl." "How fast will it crawl?" cried my old captain friend, who had been towed by many a lively sperm-whale. "Tell us how fast," cried he, "that we may get into port in time." However, I drove a thread of oakum on top of the cotton, as from the first I had intended to do. And Bruno again wagged his tail. The cotton never "crawled." When the calking was finished, two coats of copper paint were slapped on the bottom, two of white lead on the topsides and bulwarks. The rudder was then shipped and painted, and on the following day the Spray was launched. As she rode at her ancient, rust-eaten anchor, she sat on the water like a swan.

The Spray's dimensions were, when finished, thirty-six feet nine inches long, over all, fourteen feet two inches wide, and four feet two inches deep in the hold, her tonnage being nine tons net and twelve and seventy-one hundredths tons gross.

Then the mast, a smart New Hampshire spruce, was fitted, and likewise all the small appurtenances necessary for a short cruise. Sails were bent, and away she flew with my friend Captain Pierce and me, across Buzzard's Bay on a trial-trip—all right. The only thing that now worried my friends along the beach was, "Will she pay?" The cost of my new vessel was $553.62 for materials, and thirteen months of my own labor. I was several months more than that at Fairhaven, for I got work now and then on an occasional whale-ship fitting farther down the harbor, and that kept me the overtime.


Failure as a fisherman — A voyage around the world projected — From Boston to Gloucester — Fitting out for the ocean voyage — Half of a dory for a ship's "boat — The run from Gloucester to Nova Scotia — A shaking up in home waters—Among old friends.

I SPENT a season in my new craft fishing on the coast, only to find that I had not the cunning properly to bait a hook. But at last the time arrived to weigh anchor and get to sea in earnest. I had resolved on a voyage around the world, and as the wind on the morning of April 24, 1895, was fair, at noon I weighed anchor, set sail, and filled away from Boston, where the Spray had been moored snugly all winter. The twelve-o'clock whistles were blowing just as the sloop shot ahead under full sail. A short board was made up the harbor on the port tack, then coming about she stood seaward, with her boom well off to port, and swung past the ferries with lively heels. A photographer on the outer pier at East Boston got a picture of her as she swept by, her flag at the peak throwing its folds clear. A thrilling pulse beat high in me. My step was light on deck in the crisp air. I felt that there could be no turning back, and that I was engaging in an adventure the meaning of which I thoroughly understood. I had taken little advice from any one, for I had a right to my own opinions in matters pertaining to the sea. That the best of sailors might do worse than even I alone was borne in upon me not a league from Boston docks, where a great steamship, fully manned, officered, and piloted, lay stranded and broken. This was the Venetian. She was broken completely in two over a ledge. So in the first hour of my lone voyage I had proof that the Spray could at least do better than this full-handed steamship, for I was already farther on my voyage than she. "Take warning, Spray, and have a care," I uttered aloud to my bark, passing fairylike silently down the bay.

The wind freshened, and the Spray rounded Deer Island light, going at the rate of seven knots. Passing it, she squared away direct for Gloucester, where she was to procure some fishermen's stores. Waves dancing joyously across Massachusetts Bay met the sloop coming out, to dash themselves instantly into myriads of sparkling gems that hung about her breast at every surge. The day was perfect, the sunlight clear and strong. Every particle of water thrown into the air became a gem, and the Spray, making good her name as she dashed ahead, snatched necklace after necklace from the sea, and as often threw them away. We have all seen miniature rainbows about a ship's prow, but the Spray flung out a bow of her own that day, such as I had never seen before. Her good angel had embarked on the voyage; I so read it in the sea.

Bold Nahant was soon abeam, then Marblehead was put astern. Other vessels were outward bound, but none of them passed the Spray flying along on her course. I heard the clanking of the dismal bell on Norman's Woe as we went by; and the reef where the schooner Hesperus struck I passed close aboard. The "bones" of a wreck tossed up lay bleaching on the shore abreast. The wind still freshening, I settled the throat of the mainsail to ease the sloop's helm, for I could hardly hold her before it with the whole mainsail set. A schooner ahead of me lowered all sail and ran into port under bare poles, the wind being fair. As the Spray brushed by the stranger, I saw that some of his sails were gone, and much broken canvas hung in his rigging, from the effects of a squall.


Excerpted from Sailing Alone Around the World by Joshua Slocum, Thomas Fogarty, George Varian. Copyright © 1956 Dover Publications, Inc.. Excerpted by permission of Dover Publications, Inc..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Table of Contents

Chapter I1
Chapter II10
Chapter III19
Chapter IV28
Chapter V38
Chapter VI51
Chapter VII62
Chapter VIII75
Chapter IX84
Chapter X95
Chapter XI105
Chapter XII114
Chapter XIII125
Chapter XIV137
Chapter XV148
Chapter XVI161
Chapter XVII174
Chapter XVIII185
Chapter XIX193
Chapter XX203
Chapter XXI210

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Sailing Alone Around the World (Barnes & Noble Classics Series) 3.7 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 263 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I stumbled across Sailing Alone Aound the World by chance. Slocum draws you into his world as he travels from port to port and battles gales and the deadly Southern Ocean. Throughout the novel we learn what it really means to travel solo and find interpeace.
Eric-L More than 1 year ago
I bought this on a whim while I was looking through the B&N Classics section. Joshua Slocum writes so honestly and eloquently. Thoroughly enjoyable, this work will take you around the world and show you the indomitable spirit of an honest sailor.
AuburnWriter More than 1 year ago
It's not Treasure Island but it is an epic true story of a man who sailed the earth alone. Knowing the story is true and the recurring dangers that Slocum faced will pull you through this great book. As for the format, it's easy to read and the occasional the sketches of scenes from the book are a pleasure to behold.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Considered with the greats Beariful prose tells of a sailor who restores an old dilapidared sailboat and sails it around the world single handed The Spray sails herself and overtakes ships with full crews An amazing boat Imagine pressing past Cape Horn only to find pirates on the other side If you sail you must read this captain's log i've never written a review before this, but I must encourage all who love great writing, great story telling, and a great story to honor this man bv reading his tale
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Loved the adventures and tribulations. Great true story. Very memorable. Great writing.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Found it to be a good book I followed Slocum's travels on Goggle Map which made it more interesting. I really liked the fact the book was free
Guest More than 1 year ago
Slocum is a fabulous writer and his story will amaze you as you imagine his journey in a handmade boat over 100 years ago. I loved reading this and will no doubt read it many times in the years to come. A true classic.
Guest More than 1 year ago
Being a Yankee Skipper, Capt. Slocum could probably relish his book¿s ability to still sell after one hundred and nine years. But the question on the reader¿s mind is still the one that annoyed him occasionally at ports of call on his voyage: ¿Where¿s the profit¿?¿ ¿What¿s the sense of trying to sail around the world alone, Captain?¿ or ¿Why read?¿ Captain Slocum may well have answered that, in his case, sailing beyond his geographical horizon took him beyond his psychological horizon. Not once, but so many times, that he found his place among men and intuitively his place in the universe. His is an account of a man discovering and being exactly where he¿s meant to be. What about us readers? Maybe we need the encouragement to find out, or, even, ask the question? Barnes & Noble combined a background and introduction that compliments the story well, so, read closely. If the story starts to read you continuing may lead to unsettling thoughts, feelings and questions. Careful, you know what Nazis did with that sort of book?
jwhenderson on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
More than one hundred years ago at the end of the century prior to the last a fifty-one year old man set sail for a trip around the world. Joshua Slocum capped his sea-going career with this trip in a sail boat, named The Spray, that he built himself and, upon his return, he memorialized his trip by writing the narrative of his trip, Sailing Alone around the World. His career had waned with the gradual demise of large sail-going ships and he put all of his years of experience on them, plus some help from friends and strangers along the way, into this voyage. The story he told about it still has power to grip the reader's imagination yet today. Many incidents are shared as he travels from place to place and is in and out of danger on several occasions, mostly due to the vagaries of mother nature. Some of those incidents were survived mainly through his own good luck in combination with his sailing experience, for it is clear that nature is more powerful than any sailing vessel, surely one so small as his single manned craft. Early on in his voyage he is chased by pirates, but eludes them and goes on to enjoy the hospitality of the British at Gibraltar. Their would be more hospitality that he would experience during his long three year trip and there would be a deadly encounter with a native, but no more pirates. I was impressed with his devotion to reading which he kept up both with books that he took with him and books that he obtained along the way. This was undoubtedly a life-long habit and it must have been helpful as he sat down to narrate his travels upon his return. I also marveled at the ebb and flow of time as the journey seemed to go more swiftly than one would expect a span of three years to unfold. There was one theme that grew over the course of the story, Joshua was not alone after all. His sailing ship, The Spray, had become much more than a mere container bobbing on the waves. No, it had become his close companion whose heart and soul was one with Joshua - a wonderful occurrence that only seafarers and readers could appreciate. At the conclusion of the book I had admiration for this humble man who took on a challenge that would defeat most men much younger than his fifty-one years and who succeeded. "If the Spray discovered no continents on her voyage, it may be that there were no more continents to be discovered; she did not seek new worlds, or sail to powwow about the dangers of the seas. The sea has been much maligned. To find one's way to lands already discovered is a good thing" (p 234)
darlingtrk on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
This is a classic in the truest sense. It's a true account written by a man who did it. Not a fiction, which would be impressive enough, but the reflections of a pioneer on what he considered important. He does not present himself as an introspective post-modern, but an explorer gentleman whose priorities are not the day to day minutia of sailing, but the impact of his innovation on people. He is to be admired because he saw something new to be done and had the expertise and courage to do it. His book is to be admired because he had a pittance of education but spent his voyage reading and writing his account.
chworm on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
A book, more written more than one hundred years ago, yet so current. I really enjoyed this, it dwarfs most of today's "Look, what a cool guy I am!" type adventure novels. It's amazing what Slocum achieved, without any modern (or not so modern) technology.
martyb on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Written in the antique language of the turn-of-the century this book has a slightly stilted feel to it. For example, the original inhabitants of a place are referred to as savages. For all this, it is still a good sailing story, all the more so for it being, supposedly, the first single-handed circumnavigation of the world. It echos modern day sailing adventures in many ways - the same beauty of the sea, the delight in sea animals, the sense of grandeur and solitude, the pride of coping with the elements.
Schmerguls on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
This sets out the amazing facts on the trip the author took a boat he reconstructed around the world, The boat was 37 feet long and 13 feet wide, and while he had some awesome perils to face, he makes it seem like a breeze most of the time--claiming the boat did not need a helmsman for great portions of his trip. The trip began Apr 24, 1895, and was completed 27 Jun 1898. Especially in the early portions of the book it is grippingly exciting.
Smiley on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Charming, readable turn of the last century true sailing adventure. The perfect book to read when you can't affored to go anywhere on vacation.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Exciting read. Vivid imagery. Adventurous. On the edge of my seat throughout an interesting trip around the world.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
A grand story from a time when sailors still found adventures and oceans to tame. At times this is not an easy read. The story is from 1896 therefore the writing style and language are a bit archaic, and the reader is assumed to know sailing terms. But the allure of just being able to walk away and sail off into the sunset is timeless. He tells the tale, both good and bad, as he lives among the waves, and the ports in lands in.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Absolutely one of the best books I've ever read (read it about 6 times). Slocum's style is timeless, his humor is wonderful, his story is one of a kind and in fact no one else in the world can tell a story anywhere near this one. I've never even heard of anyone with nards as big and my dad had brass ones! Joshua tells an amazing and true story in this book, I'm proud to say it's by far one of my favorites! (I don't get paid for this - HA!)
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Hahs sup sky ~mason,green,grover
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Great read, and a fascinating glimpse of our world at the close of the 19th century
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
HomeSchoolBookReview More than 1 year ago
On April 24, 1895, at the age of 51, Joshua Slocum, a Nova Scotia born, naturalized U. S. seaman and adventurer, set sail in his 37-foot sloop the Spray, a derelict boat that he had rebuilt himself. Three years and 46,000 miles later, he returned as the first person to sail around the world alone. Then in 1900 he wrote a sailing memoir about his single-handed global circumnavigation. It tells how he sailed across the Atlantic Ocean to Gibraltar, stopping at the Azores along the way, changed his mind about his route through the Suez Canal, and went back across the Atlantic, down along the coast of South America, through the Straits of Magellan, and into the Pacific Ocean, where his further stops included Juan Fernandez Island, Samoa, and various places in Australia. From Australia, Slocum’s route took him into the Indian Ocean with stops at Keeling Cocos Islands, Mauritius, and a couple of places in what is now South Africa. Then moving around Cape Horn back into the Atlantic, he stopped at St. Helena and Ascension Islands, sailed up the coast of South America into the Caribbean Sea—while the Spanish-American War in Cuba was going on, and finally arrived in Newport, RI, on June 27, 1898. The story first appeared in serial form in Century Illustrated Monthly Magazine, a popular periodical published in New York. It tells of the perils of ocean sailing such as fog, gales, danger of collision, loneliness, doldrums, navigation, fatigue, and gear failure. There were also the dangers of coastal navigation including pirates, embankment, shoals, coral reefs, stranding, shipwreck, and attack by savages. For example, in Tierra del Fuego he was warned that he might be attacked by the Yahgan Indians in the night, so he sprinkled thumbtacks on the deck, and was awakened in the middle of the night by yelps of pain. What makes the feats of both sailing around the world alone and then writing about it so amazing is that Slocum attended school for only three years. However, having been at sea since he was sixteen and sailed a variety of vessels to most of the world’s major ports, he brought with him a wealth of nautical experience. There are a few mentions of drinking wine or other alcoholic beverages, but nothing else objectionable, and Slocum makes many references to God as the Maker and his protector. The style of writing would make it of interest mainly to teens and adults. But there is a lot of fascinating reading. I saw where years ago an edition of the book was used as a geography text for children in schools. Barnes and Noble was having a buy-two-get-one-free-sale on their own books. I picked up The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins and The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas, and then noticed Sailing Alone Around the World for my free one. I’d never heard of it before, but I’m glad I found it. In November of 1909, Slocum set sail from Martha’s Vineyard in the Spray and was never heard from again, believed to have been lost at sea.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago