THE NIGGER

of THE NARCISSUS

A TALE OF THE FORECASTLE

BY JOSEPH CONRAD

COPYRIGHT, 1897, 1914, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY

TO

EDWARD GARNETT

THIS TALE

ABOUT MY FRIENDS

OF THE SEA

TO MY READERS IN AMERICA

From that evening when James Wait joined the ship--late for the musterof the crew--to the moment when he left us in the open sea, shrouded insailcloth, through the open port, I had much to do with him. He was inmy watch. A negro in a British forecastle is a lonely being. He has nochums. Yet James Wait, afraid of death and making her his accomplice wasan impostor of some character--mastering our compassion, scornful of oursentimentalism, triumphing over our suspicions. 

But in the book he is nothing; he is merely the centre of the ship'scollective psychology and the pivot of the action. Yet he, who in thefamily circle and amongst my friends is familiarly referred to as theNigger, remains very precious to me. For the book written round himis not the sort of thing that can be attempted more than once in alife-time. It is the book by which, not as a novelist perhaps, but as anartist striving for the utmost sincerity of expression, I am willing tostand or fall. Its pages are the tribute of my unalterable and profoundaffection for the ships, the seamen, the winds and the great sea--themoulders of my youth, the companions of the best years of my life. 

After writing the last words of that book, in the revulsion of feelingbefore the accomplished task, I understood that I had done with the sea, and that henceforth I had to be a writer. And almost without laying downthe pen I wrote a preface, trying to express the spirit in which I wasentering on the task of my new life. That preface on advice (which I nowthink was wrong) was never published with the book. But the late W. E. Henley, who had the courage at that time (1897) to serialize my "Nigger"in the _New Review_ judged it worthy to be printed as an afterword atthe end of the last instalment of the tale. 

I am glad that this book which means so much to me is coming out again, under its proper title of "The Nigger of the 'Narcissus'" and under theauspices of my good, friends and publishers Messrs. Doubleday, Page &Co. Into the light of publicity. 

Half the span of a generation has passed since W. E. Henley, afterreading two chapters, sent me a verbal message: "Tell Conrad that ifthe rest is up to the sample it shall certainly come out in the _NewReview_. " The most gratifying recollection of my writer's life!

And here is the Suppressed Preface. 

1914. 

JOSEPH CONRAD. 

PREFACE

A work that aspires, however humbly, to the condition of art shouldcarry its justification in every line. And art itself may be definedas a single-minded attempt to render the highest kind of justice tothe visible universe, by bringing to light the truth, manifold and one, underlying its every aspect. It is an attempt to find in its forms, inits colours, in its light, in its shadows, in the aspects of matter andin the facts of life what of each is fundamental, what is enduring andessential--their one illuminating and convincing quality--the very truthof their existence. The artist, then, like the thinker or the scientist, seeks the truth and makes his appeal. Impressed by the aspect of theworld the thinker plunges into ideas, the scientist into facts--whence, presently, emerging they make their appeal to those qualities of ourbeing that fit us best for the hazardous enterprise of living. Theyspeak authoritatively to our common-sense, to our intelligence, toour desire of peace or to our desire of unrest; not seldom to ourprejudices, sometimes to our fears, often to our egoism--but alwaysto our credulity. And their words are heard with reverence, for theirconcern is with weighty matters: with the cultivation of our minds andthe proper care of our bodies, with the attainment of our ambitions, with the perfection of the means and the glorification of our preciousaims. 

It is otherwise with the artist. 

Confronted by the same enigmatical spectacle the artist descends withinhimself, and in that lonely region of stress and strife, if he bedeserving and fortunate, he finds the terms of his appeal. His appeal ismade to our less obvious capacities: to that part of our nature which, because of the warlike conditions of existence, is necessarily kept outof sight within the more resisting and hard qualities--like thevulnerable body within a steel armour. His appeal is less loud, moreprofound, less distinct, more stirring--and sooner forgotten. Yet itseffect endures forever. The changing wisdom of successive generationsdiscards ideas, questions facts, demolishes theories. But the artistappeals to that part of our being which is not dependent on wisdom; tothat in us which is a gift and not an acquisition--and, therefore, morepermanently enduring. He speaks to our capacity for delight and wonder, to the sense of mystery surrounding our lives; to our sense of pity, and beauty, and pain; to the latent feeling of fellowship with allcreation--and to the subtle but invincible conviction of solidarity thatknits together the loneliness of innumerable hearts, to the solidarityin dreams, in joy, in sorrow, in aspirations, in illusions, in hope, infear, which binds men to each other, which binds together allhumanity--the dead to the living and the living to the unborn. 

It is only some such train of thought, or rather of feeling, that canin a measure explain the aim of the attempt, made in the tale whichfollows, to present an unrestful episode in the obscure lives of a fewindividuals out of all the disregarded multitude of the bewildered, thesimple and the voiceless. For, if any part of truth dwells in thebelief confessed above, it becomes evident that there is not a place ofsplendour or a dark corner of the earth that does not deserve, if onlya passing glance of wonder and pity. The motive then, may be held tojustify the matter of the work; but this preface, which is simplyan avowal of endeavour, cannot end here--for the avowal is notyet complete. Fiction--if it at all aspires to be art--appeals totemperament. And in truth it must be, like painting, like music, likeall art, the appeal of one temperament to all the other innumerabletemperaments whose subtle and resistless power endows passing eventswith their true meaning, and creates the moral, the emotional atmosphereof the place and time. Such an appeal to be effective must be animpression conveyed through the senses; and, in fact, it cannot be madein any other way, because temperament, whether individual or collective, is not amenable to persuasion. All art, ' therefore, appeals primarily tothe senses, and the artistic aim when expressing itself in written wordsmust also make its appeal through the senses, if its highest desire isto reach the secret spring of responsive emotions. It must strenuouslyaspire to the plasticity of sculpture, to the colour of painting, and tothe magic suggestiveness of music--which is the art of arts. And it isonly through complete, unswerving devotion to the perfect blending ofform and substance; it is only through an unremitting never-discouragedcare for the shape and ring of sentences that an approach can be made toplasticity, to colour, and that the light of magic suggestiveness may bebrought to play for an evanescent instant over the commonplace surfaceof words: of the old, old words, worn thin, defaced by ages of carelessusage. 

The sincere endeavour to accomplish that creative task, to go as far onthat road as his strength will carry him, to go undeterred by faltering, weariness or reproach, is the only valid justification for the workerin prose. And if his conscience is clear, his answer to those who inthe fulness of a wisdom which looks for immediate profit, demandspecifically to be edified, consoled, amused; who demand to be promptlyimproved, or encouraged, or frightened, or shocked, or charmed, mustrun thus:--My task which I am trying to achieve is, by the power of thewritten word to make you hear, to make you feel--it is, before all, tomake you _see_. That--and no more, and it is everything. If I succeed, you shall find there according to your deserts: encouragement, consolation, fear, charm--all you demand--and, perhaps, also thatglimpse of truth for which you have forgotten to ask. To snatch in amoment of courage, from the remorseless rush of time, a passing phaseof life, is only the beginning of the task. The task approached intenderness and faith is to hold up unquestioningly, without choice andwithout fear, the rescued fragment before all eyes in the light of asincere mood. It is to show its vibration, its colour, its form; andthrough its movement, its form, and its colour, reveal the substance ofits truth--disclose its inspiring secret: the stress and passion withinthe core of each convincing moment. In a single-minded attempt of thatkind, if one be deserving and fortunate, one may perchance attain tosuch clearness of sincerity that at last the presented vision of regretor pity, of terror or mirth, shall awaken in the hearts of the beholdersthat feeling of unavoidable solidarity; of the solidarity in mysteriousorigin, in toil, in joy, in hope, in uncertain fate, which binds men toeach other and all mankind to the visible world. It is evident that hewho, rightly or wrongly, holds by the convictions expressed above cannotbe faithful to any one of the temporary formulas of his craft. The enduring part of them--the truth which each only imperfectlyveils--should abide with him as the most precious of his possessions, but they all: Realism, Romanticism, Naturalism, even the unofficialsenti-mentalism (which like the poor, is exceedingly difficult toget rid of, ) all these gods must, after a short period of fellowship, abandon him--even on the very threshold of the temple--to thestammerings of his conscience and to the outspoken consciousness of thedifficulties of his work. In that uneasy solitude the supreme cry of Artfor Art itself, loses the exciting ring of its apparent immorality. It sounds far off. It has ceased' to be a cry, and is heard only as awhisper, often incomprehensible, but at times and faintly encouraging. 

Sometimes, stretched at ease in the shade of a roadside tree, we watchthe motions of a labourer in a distant field, and after a time, begin towonder languidly as to what the fellow may be at. We watch the movementsof his body, the waving of his arms, we see him bend down, stand up, hesitate, begin again. It may add to the charm of an idle hour to betold the purpose of his exertions. If we know he is trying to lifta stone, to dig a ditch, to uproot a stump, we look with a more realinterest at his efforts; we are disposed to condone the jar of hisagitation upon the restfulness of the landscape; and even, if in abrotherly frame of mind, we may bring ourselves to forgive his failure. We understood his object, and, after all, the fellow has tried, andperhaps he had not the strength--and perhaps he had not the knowledge. We forgive, go on our way--and forget. 

And so it is with the workman of art. Art is long and life is short, and success is very far off. And thus, doubtful of strength to travelso far, we talk a little about the aim--the aim of art, which, like lifeitself, is inspiring, difficult--obscured by mists--It is not in theclear logic of a triumphant conclusion; it is not in the unveiling of oneof those heartless secrets which are called the Laws of Nature. It isnot less great, but only more difficult. 

To arrest, for the space of a breath, the hands busy about the work ofthe earth, and compel men entranced by the sight of distant goals toglance for a moment at the surrounding vision of form and colour, ofsunshine and shadows; to make them pause for a look, for a sigh, for asmile--such is the aim, difficult and evanescent, and reserved onlyfor a very few to achieve. But sometimes, by the deserving andthe fortunate, even that task is accomplished. And when it isaccomplished--behold!--all the truth of life is there: a moment ofvision, a sigh, a smile--and the return to an eternal rest. 

1897. J. C. 

THE NIGGER OF THE "NARCISSUS"

CHAPTER ONE

Mr. Baker, chief mate of the ship _Narcissus_, stepped in one stride outof his lighted cabin into the darkness of the quarter-deck. Above hishead, on the break of the poop, the night-watchman rang a double stroke. It was nine o'clock. Mr. Baker, speaking up to the man above him, asked:--"Are all the hands aboard, Knowles?"

The man limped down the ladder, then said reflectively:--

"I think so, sir. All our old chaps are there, and a lot of new men hascome. .. . They must be all there. "

"Tell the boatswain to send all hands aft, " went on Mr. Baker; "and tellone of the youngsters to bring a good lamp here. I want to muster ourcrowd. "

The main deck was dark aft, but halfway from forward, through the opendoors of the forecastle, two streaks of brilliant light cut the shadowof the quiet night that lay upon the ship. A hum of voices washeard there, while port and starboard, in the illuminated doorways, silhouettes of moving men appeared for a moment, very black, withoutrelief, like figures cut out of sheet tin. The ship was ready for sea. The carpenter had driven in the last wedge of the mainhatch battens, and, throwing down his maul, had wiped his face with great deliberation, just on the stroke of five. The decks had been swept, the windlass oiledand made ready to heave up the anchor; the big tow-rope lay in longbights along one side of the main deck, with one end carried up and hungover the bows, in readiness for the tug that would come paddling andhissing noisily, hot and smoky, in the limpid, cool quietness of theearly morning. The captain was ashore, where he had been engaging somenew hands to make up his full crew; and, the work of the day over, the ship's officers had kept out of the way, glad of a littlebreathing-time. Soon after dark the few liberty-men and the new handsbegan to arrive in shore-boats rowed by white-clad Asiatics, who clamoured fiercely for payment before coming alongside thegangway-ladder. The feverish and shrill babble of Eastern languagestruggled against the masterful tones of tipsy seamen, who arguedagainst brazen claims and dishonest hopes by profane shouts. Theresplendent and bestarred peace of the East was torn into squalidtatters by howls of rage and shrieks of lament raised over sums rangingfrom five annas to half a rupee; and every soul afloat in Bombay Harbourbecame aware that the new hands were joining the _Narcissus_. 

Gradually the distracting noise had subsided. The boats came no longerin splashing clusters of three or four together, but dropped alongsidesingly, in a subdued buzz of expostulation cut short by a "Not apice more! You go to the devil!" from some man staggering up theaccommodation-ladder--a dark figure, with a long bag poised on theshoulder. In the forecastle the newcomers, upright and swaying amongstcorded boxes and bundles of bedding, made friends with the old hands, who sat one above another in the two tiers of bunks, gazing at theirfuture shipmates with glances critical but friendly. The two forecastlelamps were turned up high, and shed an intense hard glare; shore-goinground hats were pushed far on the backs of heads, or rolled about on thedeck amongst the chain-cables; white collars, undone, stuck out on eachside of red faces; big arms in white sleeves gesticulated; the growlingvoices hummed steady amongst bursts of laughter and hoarse calls. "Here, sonny, take that bunk!. .. Don't you do it!. .. What's your last ship?. .. I know her. .. . Three years ago, in Puget Sound. .. . This here berthleaks, I tell you!. .. Come on; give us a chance to swing that chest!. .. Did you bring a bottle, any of you shore toffs?. .. Give us a bit of'baccy. .. . I know her; her skipper drank himself to death. .. . He was adandy boy!. .. Liked his lotion inside, he did!. .. No!. .. Hold your row, you chaps!. .. I tell you, you came on board a hooker, where they gettheir money's worth out of poor Jack, by--!. .. "

A little fellow, called Craik and nicknamed Belfast, abused the shipviolently, romancing on principle, just to give the new hands somethingto think over. Archie, sitting aslant on his sea-chest, kept his kneesout of the way, and pushed the needle steadily through a white patchin a pair of blue trousers. Men in black jackets and stand-up collars, mixed with men bare-footed, bare-armed, with coloured shirts openon hairy chests, pushed against one another in the middle of theforecastle. The group swayed, reeled, turning upon itself with themotion of a scrimmage, in a haze of tobacco smoke. All were speakingtogether, swearing at every second word. A Russian Finn, wearing ayellow shirt with pink stripes, stared upwards, dreamy-eyed, from undera mop of tumbled hair. Two young giants with smooth, baby faces--twoScandinavians--helped each other to spread their bedding, silent, andsmiling placidly at the tempest of good-humoured and meaningless curses. Old Singleton, the oldest able seaman in the ship, set apart on the deckright under the lamps, stripped to the waist, tattooed like a cannibalchief all over his powerful chest and enormous biceps. Between the blueand red patterns his white skin gleamed like satin; his bare back waspropped against the heel of the bowsprit, and he held a book atarm's length before his big, sunburnt face. With his spectacles and avenerable white beard, he resembled a learned and savage patriarch, theincarnation of barbarian wisdom serene in the blasphemous turmoil ofthe world. He was intensely absorbed, and as he turned the pages anexpression of grave surprise would pass over his rugged features. He wasreading "Pelham. " The popularity of Bulwer Lytton in the forecastles ofSouthern-going ships is a wonderful and bizarre phenomenon. What ideasdo his polished and so curiously insincere sentences awaken in thesimple minds of the big children who people those dark and wanderingplaces of the earth? What meaning can their rough, inexperienced soulsfind in the elegant verbiage of his pages? What excitement?--whatforgetfulness?--what appeasement? Mystery! Is it the fascination ofthe incomprehensible?--is it the charm of the impossible? Or are thosebeings who exist beyond the pale of life stirred by his tales as by anenigmatical disclosure of a resplendent world that exists within thefrontier of infamy and filth, within that border of dirt and hunger, ofmisery and dissipation, that comes down on all sides to the water's edgeof the incorruptible ocean, and is the only thing they know of life, theonly thing they see of surrounding land--those life-long prisoners ofthe sea? Mystery! Singleton, who had sailed to the southward since theage of twelve, who in the last forty-five years had lived (as we hadcalculated from his papers) no more than forty months ashore--oldSingleton, who boasted, with the mild composure of long years wellspent, that generally from the day he was paid off from one shiptill the day he shipped in another he seldom was in a condition todistinguish daylight--old Singleton sat unmoved in the clash of voicesand cries, spelling through "Pelham" with slow labour, and lost in anabsorption profound enough to resemble a trance. He breathed regularly. Every time he turned the book in his enormous and blackened hands themuscles of his big white arms rolled slightly under the smooth skin. Hidden by the white moustache, his lips, stained with tobacco-juice thattrickled down the long beard, moved in inward whisper. His bleared eyesgazed fixedly from behind the glitter of black-rimmed glasses. Oppositeto him, and on a level with his face, the ship's cat sat on the barrelof the windlass in the pose of a crouching chimera, blinking its greeneyes at its old friend. It seemed to meditate a leap on to the old man'slap over the bent back of the ordinary seaman who sat at Singleton'sfeet. Young Charley was lean and long-necked. The ridge of hisbackbone made a chain of small hills under the old shirt. His face of astreet-boy--a face precocious, sagacious, and ironic, with deep downwardfolds on each side of the thin, wide mouth--hung low over his bonyknees. He was learning to make a lanyard knot with a bit of an oldrope. Small drops of perspiration stood out on his bulging forehead; hesniffed strongly from time to time, glancing out of the corners ofhis restless eyes at the old seaman, who took no notice of the puzzledyoungster muttering at his work. 

The noise increased. Little Belfast seemed, in the heavy heat of theforecastle, to boil with facetious fury. His eyes danced; in the crimsonof his face, comical as a mask, the mouth yawned black, with strangegrimaces. Facing him, a half-undressed man held his sides, and, throwinghis head back, laughed with wet eyelashes. Others stared with amazedeyes. Men sitting doubled up in the upper bunks smoked short pipes, swinging bare brown feet above the heads of those who, sprawling belowon sea-chests, listened, smiling stupidly or scornfully. Over the whiterims of berths stuck out heads with blinking eyes; but the bodies werelost in the gloom of those places, that resembled narrow niches forcoffins in a whitewashed and lighted mortuary. Voices buzzed louder. Archie, with compressed lips, drew himself in, seemed to shrink intoa smaller space, and sewed steadily, industrious and dumb. Belfastshrieked like an inspired Dervish:--". .. So I seez to him, boys, seezI, 'Beggin' yer pardon, sorr, ' seez I to that second mate of thatsteamer--'beggin' your-r-r pardon, sorr, the Board of Trade must 'avebeen drunk when they granted you your certificate!' 'What do you say, you------!' seez he, comin' at me like a mad bull. .. All in his whiteclothes; and I up with my tar-pot and capsizes it all over his blamedlovely face and his lovely jacket. .. . 'Take that!' seez I. 'I am asailor, anyhow, you nosing, skipper-licking, useless, sooperfloosbridge-stanchion, you! That's the kind of man I am!' shouts I. .. . Youshould have seed him skip, boys! Drowned, blind with tar, he was! So. .. "

"Don't 'ee believe him! He never upset no tar; I was there!" shoutedsomebody. The two Norwegians sat on a chest side by side, alike andplacid, resembling a pair of love-birds on a perch, and with round eyesstared innocently; but the Russian Finn, in the racket of explosiveshouts and rolling laughter, remained motionless, limp and dull, likea deaf man without a backbone. Near him Archie smiled at his needle. Abroad-chested, slow-eyed newcomer spoke deliberately to Belfast duringan exhausted lull in the noise:--"I wonder any of the mates here arealive yet with such a chap as you on board! I concloode they ain't thatbad now, if you had the taming of them, sonny. "

"Not bad! Not bad!" screamed Belfast. "If it wasn't for us stickingtogether. .. . Not bad! They ain't never bad when they ain't got achawnce, blast their black 'arts. .. . "

He foamed, whirling his arms, then suddenly grinned and, takinga tablet of black tobacco out of his pocket, bit a piece off witha funny show of ferocity. Another new hand--a man with shifty eyes anda yellow hatchet face, who had been listening open-mouthed in the shadowof the midship locker--observed in a squeaky voice:--"Well, it's a'omeward trip, anyhow. Bad or good, I can do it on my 'ed--s'long asI get 'ome. And I can look after my rights! I will show 'em!" All theheads turned towards him. Only the ordinary seaman and the cat took nonotice. He stood with arms akimbo, a little fellow with white eyelashes. He looked as if he had known all the degradations and all the furies. Helooked as if he had been cuffed, kicked, rolled in the mud; he looked asif he had been scratched, spat upon, pelted with unmentionable filth. .. And he smiled with a sense of security at the faces around. His earswere bending down under the weight of his battered felt hat. The torntails of his black coat flapped in fringes about the calves of his legs. He unbuttoned the only two buttons that remained and every one saw thathe had no shirt under it. It was his deserved misfortune that those ragswhich nobody could possibly be supposed to own looked on him as if theyhad been stolen. His neck was long and thin; his eyelids were red; rarehairs hung about his jaws; his shoulders were peaked and drooped likethe broken wings of a bird; all his left side was caked with mudwhich showed that he had lately slept in a wet ditch. He had saved hisinefficient carcass from violent destruction by running away from anAmerican ship where, in a moment of forgetful folly, he had dared toengage himself; and he had knocked about for a fortnight ashore in thenative quarter, cadging for drinks, starving, sleeping on rubbish-heaps, wandering in sunshine: a startling visitor from a world of nightmares. He stood repulsive and smiling in the sudden silence. This clean whiteforecastle was his refuge; the place where he could be lazy; where hecould wallow, and lie and eat--and curse the food he ate; where he coulddisplay his talents for shirking work, for cheating, for cadging; wherehe could find surely some one to wheedle and some one to bully--andwhere he would be paid for doing all this. They all knew him. Is therea spot on earth where such a man is unknown, an ominous survivaltestifying to the eternal fitness of lies and impudence? A taciturnlong-armed shellback, with hooked fingers, who had been lying on hisback smoking, turned in his bed to examine him dispassionately, then, over his head, sent a long jet of clear saliva towards the door. Theyall knew him! He was the man that cannot steer, that cannot splice, thatdodges the work on dark nights; that, aloft, holds on frantically withboth arms and legs, and swears at the wind, the sleet, the darkness; theman who curses the sea while others work. The man who is the last outand the first in when all hands are called. The man who can't domost things and won't do the rest. The pet of philanthropists andself-seeking landlubbers. The sympathetic and deserving creature thatknows all about his rights, but knows nothing of courage, of endurance, and of the unexpressed faith, of the unspoken loyalty that knitstogether a ship's company. The independent offspring of the ignoblefreedom of the slums full of disdain and hate for the austere servitudeof the sea. 

Some one cried at him: "What's your name?"--"Donkin, " he said, looking round with cheerful effrontery. --"What are you?" asked anothervoice. --"Why, a sailor like you, old man, " he replied, in a tone thatmeant to be hearty but was impudent. --"Blamme if you don't look a blamedsight worse than a broken-down fireman, " was the comment in a convincedmutter. Charley lifted his head and piped in a cheeky voice: "He is aman and a sailor"--then wiping his nose with the back of his hand bentdown industriously over his bit of rope. A few laughed. Others stareddoubtfully. The ragged newcomer was indignant--"That's a fine way towelcome a chap into a fo'c'sle, " he snarled. "Are you men or a lot of'artless canny-bals?"--"Don't take your shirt off for a word, shipmate, "called out Belfast, jumping up in front, fiery, menacing, and friendlyat the same time. --"Is that 'ere bloke blind?" asked the indomitablescarecrow, looking right and left with affected surprise. "Can't 'ee seeI 'aven't got no shirt?"

He held both his arms out crosswise and shook the rags that hung overhis bones with dramatic effect. 

"'Cos why?" he continued very loud. "The bloody Yankees been tryin' tojump my guts out 'cos I stood up for my rights like a good 'un. I am anEnglishman, I am. They set upon me an' I 'ad to run. That's why. A'n'tyer never seed a man 'ard up? Yah! What kind of blamed ship is this?I'm dead broke. I 'aven't got nothink. No bag, no bed, no blanket, noshirt--not a bloomin' rag but what I stand in. But I 'ad the 'art tostand up agin' them Yankees. 'As any of you 'art enough to spare a pairof old pants for a chum?"

He knew how to conquer the naïve instincts of that crowd. In a momentthey gave him their compassion, jocularly, contemptuously, or surlily;and at first it took the shape of a blanket thrown at him as he stoodthere with the white skin of his limbs showing his human kinship throughthe black fantasy of his rags. Then a pair of old shoes fell at hismuddy feet. With a cry:--"From under, " a rolled-up pair of canvastrousers, heavy with tar stains, struck him on the shoulder. The gust oftheir benevolence sent a wave of sentimental pity through theirdoubting hearts. They were touched by their own readiness to alleviatea shipmate's misery. Voices cried:--"We will fit you out, old man. "Murmurs: "Never seed seech a hard case. .. . Poor beggar. .. . I've got anold singlet. .. . Will that be of any use to you?. .. Take it, matey. .. . "Those friendly murmurs filled the forecastle. He pawed around with hisnaked foot, gathering the things in a heap and looked about for more. Unemotional Archie perfunctorily contributed to the pile an old clothcap with the peak torn off. Old Singleton, lost in the serene regions offiction, read on unheeding. Charley, pitiless with the wisdom of youth, squeaked:--"If you want brass buttons for your new unyforms I've got twofor you. " The filthy object of universal charity shook his fist at theyoungster. --"I'll make you keep this 'ere fo'c'sle clean, young feller, "he snarled viciously. "Never you fear. I will learn you to be civilto an able seaman, you ignerant ass. " He glared harmfully, but sawSingleton shut his book, and his little beady eyes began to roam fromberth to berth. --"Take that bunk by the door there--it's pretty fair, "suggested Belfast. So advised, he gathered the gifts at his feet, pressed them in a bundle against his breast, then looked cautiouslyat the Russian Finn, who stood on one side with an unconscious gaze, contemplating, perhaps, one of those weird visions that haunt the menof his race. --"Get out of my road, Dutchy, " said the victim of Yankeebrutality. The Finn did not move--did not hear. "Get out, blast ye, "shouted the other, shoving him aside with his elbow. "Get out, youblanked deaf and dumb fool. Get out. " The man staggered, recoveredhimself, and gazed at the speaker in silence. --"Those damned furrinersshould be kept under, " opined the amiable Donkin to the forecastle. "Ifyou don't teach 'em their place they put on you like anythink. " Heflung all his worldly possessions into the empty bed-place, gauged withanother shrewd look the risks of the proceeding, then leaped up to theFinn, who stood pensive and dull. --"I'll teach you to swell around, " heyelled. "I'll plug your eyes for you, you blooming square-head. " Most ofthe men were now in their bunks and the two had the forecastle clear tothemselves. The development of the destitute Donkin aroused interest. Hedanced all in tatters before the amazed Finn, squaring from a distanceat the heavy, unmoved face. One or two men cried encouragingly: "Go it, Whitechapel!" settling themselves luxuriously in their beds to surveythe fight. Others shouted: "Shut yer row!. .. Go an' put yer 'ed in abag!. .. " The hubbub was recommencing. Suddenly many heavy blows struckwith a handspike on the deck above boomed like discharges of smallcannon through the forecastle. Then the boatswain's voice rose outsidethe door with an authoritative note in its drawl:--"D'ye hear, belowthere? Lay aft! Lay aft to muster all hands!"

There was a moment of surprised stillness. Then the forecastle floordisappeared under men whose bare feet flopped on the planks as theysprang clear out of their berths. Caps were rooted for amongst tumbledblankets. Some, yawning, buttoned waistbands. Half-smoked pipes wereknocked hurriedly against woodwork and stuffed under pillows. Voicesgrowled:--"What's up?. .. Is there no rest for us?" Donkin yelped:--"Ifthat's the way of this ship, we'll 'ave to change all that. .. . You leaveme alone. .. . I will soon. .. . " None of the crowd noticed him. They werelurching in twos and threes through the doors, after the manner ofmerchant Jacks who cannot go out of a door fairly, like mere landsmen. The votary of change followed them. Singleton, struggling into hisjacket, came last, tall and fatherly, bearing high his head of aweather-beaten sage on the body of an old athlete. Only Charley remainedalone in the white glare of the empty place, sitting between the tworows of iron links that stretched into the narrow gloom forward. Hepulled hard at the strands in a hurried endeavour to finish his knot. Suddenly he started up, flung the rope at the cat, and skipped after theblack tom which went off leaping sedately over chain compressors, withits tail carried stiff and upright, like a small flag pole. 

Outside the glare of the steaming forecastle the serene purity of thenight enveloped the seamen with its soothing breath, with its tepidbreath flowing under the stars that hung countless above the mastheadsin a thin cloud of luminous dust. On the town side the blackness of thewater was streaked with trails of light which undulated gently on slightripples, similar to filaments that float rooted to the shore. Rowsof other lights stood away in straight lines as if drawn up on paradebetween towering buildings; but on the other side of the harbour sombrehills arched high their black spines, on which, here and there, thepoint of a star resembled a spark fallen from the sky. Far off, Bycullaway, the electric lamps at the dock gates shone on the end of loftystandards with a glow blinding and frigid like captive ghosts of someevil moons. Scattered all over the dark polish of the roadstead, theships at anchor floated in perfect stillness under the feeble gleamof their riding-lights, looming up, opaque and bulky, like strange andmonumental structures abandoned by men to an everlasting repose. 

Before the cabin door Mr. Baker was mustering the crew. As they stumbledand lurched along past the mainmast, they could see aft his round, broadface with a white paper before it, and beside his shoulder the sleepyhead, writh dropped eyelids, of the boy, who held, suspended at the endof his raised arm, the luminous globe of a lamp. Even before the shuffleof naked soles had ceased along the decks, the mate began to callover the names. He called distinctly in a serious tone befitting thisroll-call to unquiet loneliness, to inglorious and obscure struggle, orto the more trying endurance of small privations and wearisome duties. As the chief mate read out a name, one of the men would answer: "Yes, sir!" or "Here!" and, detaching himself from the shadowy mob ofheads visible above the blackness of starboard bulwarks, would stepbare-footed into the circle of light, and in two noiseless strides passinto the shadows on the port side of the quarterdeck. They answered indivers tones: in thick mutters, in clear, ringing voices; and some, as if the whole thing had been an outrage on their feelings, used aninjured intonation: for discipline is not ceremonious in merchantships, where the sense of hierarchy is weak, and where all feelthemselves equal before the unconcerned immensity of thesea and the exacting appeal of the work. Mr. Baker read onsteadily:--"Hansen--Campbell--Smith--Wamibo. Now, then, Wamibo. Whydon't you answer? Always got to call your name twice. " The Finn emittedat last an uncouth grunt, and, stepping out, passed through the patch oflight, weird and gaudy, with the face of a man marching through a dream. The mate went on faster:--"Craik--Singleton--Donkin. .. . O Lord!" heinvoluntarily ejaculated as the incredibly dilapidated figure appearedin the light. It stopped; it uncovered pale gums and long, upper teethin a malevolent grin. --"Is there any-think wrong with me, Mister Mate?"it asked, with a flavour of insolence in the forced simplicity of itstone. On both sides of the deck subdued titters were heard. --"That'lldo. Go over, " growled Mr. Baker, fixing the new hand with steady blueeyes. And Donkin vanished suddenly out of the light into the darkgroup of mustered men, to be slapped on the back and to hear flatteringwhispers:--"He ain't afeard, he'll give sport to 'em, see if hedon't. .. . Reg'lar Punch and Judy show. .. . Did ye see the mate startat him?. .. Well! Damme, if I ever!. .. " The last man had gone over, and there was a moment of silence while the mate peered at hislist. --"Sixteen, seventeen, " he muttered. "I am one hand short, bo'sen, "he said aloud. The big west-countryman at his elbow, swarthy and beardedlike a gigantic Spaniard, said in a rumbling bass:--"There's no one leftforward, sir. I had a look round. He ain't aboard, but he may, turnup before daylight. "--"Ay. He may or he may not, " commented the mate, "can't make out that last name. It's all a smudge. .. . That will do, men. Go below. "

The distinct and motionless group stirred, broke up, began to moveforward. 

"Wait!" cried a deep, ringing voice. 

All stood still. Mr. Baker, who had turned away yawning, spun roundopen-mouthed. At last, furious, he blurted out:--"What's this? Who said'Wait'? What. .. . "

But he saw a tall figure standing on the rail. It came down and pushedthrough the crowd, marching with a heavy tread towards the light onthe quarterdeck. Then again the sonorous voice said withinsistence:--"Wait!" The lamplight lit up the man's body. He was tall. His head was away up in the shadows of lifeboats that stood on skidsabove the deck. The whites of his eyes and his teeth gleamed distinctly, but the face was indistinguishable. His hands were big and seemedgloved. 

Mr. Baker advanced intrepidly. "Who are you? How dare you. .. " he began. 

The boy, amazed like the rest, raised the light to the man's face. Itwas black. A surprised hum--a faint hum that sounded like the suppressedmutter of the word "Nigger"--ran along the deck and escaped out into thenight. The nigger seemed not to hear. He balanced himself where he stoodin a swagger that marked time. After a moment he said calmly:--"My nameis Wait--James Wait. "

"Oh!" said Mr. Baker. Then, after a few seconds of smouldering silence, his temper blazed out. "Ah! Your name is Wait. What of that? What do youwant? What do you mean, coming shouting here?"

The nigger was calm, cool, towering, superb. The men had approached andstood behind him in a body. He overtopped the tallest by half a head. He said: "I belong to the ship. " He enunciated distinctly, with softprecision. The deep, rolling tones of his voice filled the deck withouteffort. He was naturally scornful, unaffectedly condescending, as iffrom his height of six foot three he had surveyed all the vastness ofhuman folly and had made up his mind not to be too hard on it. He wenton:--"The captain shipped me this morning. I couldn't get aboard sooner. I saw you all aft as I came up the ladder, and could see directly youwere mustering the crew. Naturally I called out my name. I thoughtyou had it on your list, and would understand. You misapprehended. "He stopped short. The folly around him was confounded. He was right asever, and as ever ready to forgive. The disdainful tones had ceased, and, breathing heavily, he stood still, surrounded by all these whitemen. He held his head up in the glare of the lamp--a head vigorouslymodelled into deep shadows and shining lights--a head powerful andmisshapen with a tormented and flattened face--a face pathetic andbrutal: the tragic, the mysterious, the repulsive mask of a nigger'ssoul. 

Mr. Baker, recovering his composure, looked at the paper close. "Oh, yes; that's so. All right, Wait. Take your gear forward, " he said. 

Suddenly the nigger's eyes rolled wildly, became all whites. He puthis hand to his side and coughed twice, a cough metallic, hollow, andtremendously loud; it resounded like two explosions in a vault; the domeof the sky rang to it, and the iron plates of the ship's bulwarks seemedto vibrate in unison, then he marched off forward with the others. Theofficers lingering by the cabin door could hear him say: "Won't some ofyou chaps lend a hand with my dunnage? I've got a chest and a bag. " Thewords, spoken sonorously, with an even intonation, were heard allover the ship, and the question was put in a manner that made refusalimpossible. The short, quick shuffle of men carrying something heavywent away forward, but the tall figure of the nigger lingered by themain hatch in a knot of smaller shapes. Again he was heard asking: "Isyour cook a coloured gentleman?" Then a disappointed and disapproving"Ah! h'm!" was his comment upon the information that the cook happenedto be a mere white man. Yet, as they went all together towards theforecastle, he condescended to put his head through the galley door andboom out inside a magnificent "Good evening, doctor!" that made all thesaucepans ring. In the dim light the cook dozed on the coal locker infront of the captain's supper. He jumped up as if he had been cut witha whip, and dashed wildly on deck to see the backs of several men goingaway laughing. Afterwards, when talking about that voyage, he used tosay:--"The poor fellow had scared me. I thought I had seen the devil. "The cook had been seven years in the ship with the same captain. He wasa serious-minded man with a wife and three children, whose society heenjoyed on an average one month out of twelve. When on shore he tookhis family to church twice every Sunday. At sea he went to sleep everyevening with his lamp turned up full, a pipe in his mouth, and an openBible in his hand. Some one had always to go during the night to put outthe light, take the book from his hand, and the pipe from between histeeth. "For"--Belfast used to say, irritated and complaining--"somenight, you stupid cookie, you'll swallow your ould clay, and we willhave no cook. "--"Ah! sonny, I am ready for my Maker's call. .. Wishyou all were, " the other would answer with a benign serenity that wasaltogether imbecile and touching. Belfast outside the galley door dancedwith vexation. "You holy fool! I don't want you to die, " he howled, looking up with furious, quivering face and tender eyes. "What's thehurry? You blessed wooden-headed ould heretic, the divvle will haveyou soon enough. Think of Us. .. Of Us. .. Of Us!" And he would go away, stamping, spitting aside, disgusted and worried; while the other, stepping out, saucepan in hand, hot, begrimed and placid, watched with asuperior, cock-sure smile the back of his "queer little man" reeling ina rage. They were great friends. 

Mr. Baker, lounging over the after-hatch, sniffed the humid night inthe company of the second mate. --"Those West India niggers run fine andlarge--some of them. .. Ough!. .. Don't they? A fine, big man that, Mr. Creighton. Feel him on a rope. Hey? Ough! I will take him into my watch, I think. " The second mate, a fair, gentlemanly young fellow, with aresolute face and a splendid physique, observed quietly that it wasjust about what he expected. There could be felt in his tone some slightbitterness which Mr. Baker very kindly set himself to argue away. "Come, come, young man, " he said, grunting between the words. "Come! Don't betoo greedy. You had that big Finn in your watch all the voyage. I willdo what's fair. You may have those two young Scandinavians and I. .. Ough!. .. I get the nigger, and will take that. .. . Ough! that cheekycostermonger chap in a black frock-coat. I'll make him. .. . Ough!. .. Makehim toe the mark, or my. .. . Ough!. .. . Name isn't Baker. Ough! Ough!Ough!"

He grunted thrice--ferociously. He had that trick of grunting so betweenhis words and at the end of sentences. It was a fine, effective gruntthat went well with his menacing utterance, with his heavy, bull-neckedframe, his jerky, rolling gait; with his big, seamed face, his steadyeyes, and sardonic mouth. But its effect had been long ago discountedby the men. They liked him; Belfast--who was a favourite, and knewit--mimicked him, not quite behind his back. Charley--but withgreater caution--imitated his rolling gait. Some of his sayings becameestablished, daily quotations in the forecastle. Popularity can gono farther! Besides, all hands were ready to admit that on a fittingoccasion the mate could "jump down a fellow's throat in a reg'larWestern Ocean style. "

Now he was giving his last orders. "Ough! You, Knowles! Call all handsat four. I want. .. Ough!. .. To heave short before the tug comes. Lookout for the captain. I am going to lie down in my clothes. .. . Ough!. .. Call me when you see the boat coming. Ough! Ough!. The old man is sureto have something to say when he gets aboard, " he remarked to Creighton. "Well, good-night. .. . Ough! A long day before us to-morrow. .. . Ough!. .. Better turn in now. Ough! Ough!"

Upon the dark deck a band of light flashed, then a door slammed, and Mr. Baker was gone into his neat cabin. Young Creighton stood leaning overthe rail, and looked dreamily into the night of the East. And he saw init a long country lane, a lane of waving leaves and dancing sunshine. He saw stirring boughs of old trees outspread, and framing in their archthe tender, the caressing blueness of an English sky. And through thearch a girl in a light dress, smiling under a sunshade, seemed to bestepping out of the tender sky. 

At the other end of the ship the forecastle, with only one lamp burningnow, was going to sleep in a dim emptiness traversed by loud breathings, by sudden short sighs. The double row of berths yawned black, likegraves tenanted by uneasy corpses. Here and there a curtain of gaudychintz, half drawn, marked the resting-place of a sybarite. A leg hungover the edge very white and lifeless. An arm stuck straight out witha dark palm turned up, and thick fingers half closed. Two light snores, that did not synchronise, quarrelled in funny dialogue. Singletonstripped again--the old man suffered much from prickly heat--stoodcooling his back in the doorway, with his arms crossed on his bare andadorned chest. His head touched the beam of the deck above. The nigger, half undressed, was busy casting adrift the lashing of his box, andspreading his bedding in an upper berth. He moved about in his socks, tall and noiseless, with a pair of braces beating about his calves. Amongst the shadows of stanchions and bowsprit, Donkin munched apiece of hard ship's bread, sitting on the deck with upturned feet andrestless eyes; he held the biscuit up before his mouth in the whole fistand snapped his jaws at it with a raging face. Crumbs fell between hisoutspread legs. Then he got up. 

"Where's our water-cask?" he asked in a contained voice. 

Singleton, without a word, pointed with a big hand that held a shortsmouldering pipe. Donkin bent over the cask, drank out of the tin, splashing the water, turned round and noticed the nigger looking at himover the shoulder with calm loftiness. He moved up sideways. 

"There's a blooming supper for a man, " he whispered bitterly. "My dorgat 'ome wouldn't 'ave it. It's fit enouf for you an' me. 'Ere's a bigship's fo'c'sle!. .. Not a blooming scrap of meat in the kids. I'velooked in all the lockers. .. . "

The nigger stared like a man addressed unexpectedly in a foreignlanguage. Donkin changed his tone:--"Giv' us a bit of 'baccy, mate, " hebreathed out confidentially, "I 'aven't 'ad smoke or chew for the lastmonth. I am rampin' mad for it. Come on, old man!"

"Don't be familiar, " said the nigger. Donkin started and sat down on achest near by, out of sheer surprise. "We haven't kept pigs together, "continued James Wait in a deep undertone. "Here's your tobacco. " Then, after a pause, he inquired:--"What ship?"--"_Golden State_, "muttered Donkin indistinctly, biting the tobacco. The nigger whistledlow. --"Ran?" he said curtly. Donkin nodded: one of his cheeks bulgedout. "In course I ran, " he mumbled. "They booted the life hout ofone Dago chap on the passage 'ere, then started on me. I cleared hout'ere. --" "Left your dunnage behind?"--"Yes, dunnage and money, " answeredDonkin, raising his voice a little; "I got nothink. No clothes, no bed. A bandy-legged little Hirish chap 'ere 'as give me a blanket. Think I'llgo an' sleep in the fore topmast staysail to-night. "

He went on deck trailing behind his back a corner of the blanket. Singleton, without a glance, moved slightly aside to let him pass. Thenigger put away his shore togs and sat in clean working clothes on hisbox, one arm stretched over his knees. After staring at Singleton forsome time he asked without emphasis:--"What kind of ship is this? Prettyfair? Eh?"

Singleton didn't stir. A long while after he said, with unmovedface:--"Ship!. .. Ships are all right. It is the men in them!"

He went on smoking in the profound silence. The wisdom of half a centuryspent in listening to the thunder of the waves had spoken unconsciouslythrough his old lips. The cat purred on the windlass. Then James Waithad a fit of roaring, rattling cough, that shook him, tossed him likea hurricane, and flung him panting with staring eyes headlong on hissea-chest. Several men woke up. One said sleepily out of his bunk:"'Struth! what a blamed row!"--"I have a cold on my chest, " gaspedWait. --"Cold! you call it, " grumbled the man; "should think 'twassomething more. .. . "--"Oh! you think so, " said the nigger upright andloftily scornful again. He climbed into his berth and began coughingpersistently while he put his head out to glare all round theforecastle. There was no further protest. He fell back on the pillow, and could be heard there wheezing regularly like a man oppressed in hissleep. 

Singleton stood at the door with his face to the light and his back tothe darkness. And alone in the dim emptiness of the sleeping forecastlehe appeared bigger, colossal, very old; old as Father Time himself, who should have come there into this place as quiet as a sepulchre tocontemplate with patient eyes the short victory of sleep, the consoler. Yet he was only a child of time, a lonely relic of a devoured andforgotten generation. He stood, still strong, as ever unthinking; aready man with a vast empty past and with no future, with his childlikeimpulses and his man's passions already dead within his tattooed breast. The men who could understand his silence were gone--those men who knewhow to exist beyond the pale of life and within sight of eternity. Theyhad been strong, as those are strong who know neither doubts nor hopes. They had been impatient and enduring, turbulent and devoted, unrulyand faithful. Well-meaning people had tried to represent those men aswhining over every mouthful of their food; as going about their workin fear of their lives. But in truth they had been men who knew toil, privation, violence, debauchery--but knew not fear, and had no desireof spite in their hearts. Men hard to manage, but easy to inspire;voiceless men--but men enough to scorn in their hearts the sentimentalvoices that bewailed the hardness of their fate. It was a fate uniqueand their own; the capacity to bear it appeared to them the privilegeof the chosen! Their generation lived inarticulate and, indispensable, without knowing the sweetness of affections or the refuge of a home--anddied free from the dark menace of a narrow grave. They were theeverlasting children of the mysterious sea. Their successors are thegrown-up children of a discontented earth. They are less naughty, butless innocent; less profane, but perhaps also less believing; and ifthey have learned how to speak they have also learned how to whine. Butthe others were strong and mute; they were effaced, bowed and enduring, like stone caryatides that hold up in the night the lighted halls ofa resplendent and glorious edifice. They are gone now--and it does notmatter. The sea and the earth are unfaithful to their children: a truth, a faith, a generation of men goes--and is forgotten, and it does notmatter! Except, perhaps, to the few of those who believed the truth, confessed the faith--or loved the men. 

A breeze was coming. The ship that had been lying tide-rode swung toa heavier puff; and suddenly the slack of the chain cable between thewindlass and the hawse-pipe clinked, slipped forward an inch, and rosegently off the deck with a startling suggestion as of unsuspected lifethat had been lurking stealthily in the iron. In the hawse-pipe thegrinding links sent through the ship a sound like a low groan of aman sighing under a burden. The strain came on the windlass, the chaintautened like a string, vibrated--and the handle of the screw-brakemoved in slight jerks. Singleton stepped forward. 

Till then he had been standing meditative and unthinking, reposefuland hopeless, with a face grim and blank--a sixty-year-old child ofthe mysterious sea. The thoughts of all his lifetime could have beenexpressed in six words, but the stir of those things that were as muchpart of his existence as his beating heart called up a gleam of alertunderstanding upon the sternness of his aged face. The flame of the lampswayed, and the old man, with knitted and bushy eyebrows, stood over thebrake, watchful and motionless in the wild saraband of dancing shadows. Then the ship, obedient to the call of her anchor, forged ahead slightlyand eased the strain. The cable relieved, hung down, and after swayingimperceptibly to and fro dropped with a loud tap on the hard woodplanks. Singleton seized the high lever, and, by a violent throw forwardof his body, wrung out another half-turn from the brake. He recoveredhimself, breathed largely, and remained for a while glaring down at thepowerful and compact engine that squatted on the deck at his feet likesome quiet monster--a creature amazing and tame. 

"You. .. Hold!" he growled at it masterfully in the incult tangle of hiswhite beard. 

CHAPTER TWO

Next morning, at daylight, the _Narcissus_ went to sea. 

A slight haze blurred the horizon. Outside the harbour the measurelessexpanse of smooth water lay sparkling like a floor of jewels, and asempty as the sky. The short black tug gave a pluck to windward, in theusual way, then let go the rope, and hovered for a moment on the quarterwith her engines stopped; while the slim, long hull of the ship movedahead slowly under lower topsails. The loose upper canvas blew outin the breeze with soft round contours, resembling small white cloudssnared in the maze of ropes. Then the sheets were hauled home, the yardshoisted, and the ship became a high and lonely pyramid, gliding, allshining and white, through the sunlit mist. The tug turned short roundand went away towards the land. Twenty-six pairs of eyes watched herlow broad stern crawling languidly over the smooth swell between the twopaddle-wheels that turned fast, beating the water with fierce hurry. Sheresembled an enormous and aquatic black beetle, surprised by the light, overwhelmed by the sunshine, trying to escape with ineffectual effortinto the distant gloom of the land. She left a lingering smudge of smokeon the sky, and two vanishing trails of foam on the water. On the placewhere she had stopped a round black patch of soot remained, undulatingon the swell--an unclean mark of the creature's rest. 

The _Narcissus_ left alone, heading south, seemed to stand resplendentand still upon the restless sea, under the moving sun. Flakes of foamswept past her sides; the water struck her with flashing blows; the landglided away slowly fading; a few birds screamed on motionless wings overthe swaying mastheads. But soon the land disappeared, the birds wentaway; and to the west the pointed sail of an Arab dhow running forBombay, rose triangular and upright above the sharp edge of the horizon, lingered and vanished like an illusion. Then the ship's wake, long andstraight, stretched itself out through a day of immense solitude. Thesetting sun, burning on the level of the water, flamed crimson belowthe blackness of heavy rain clouds. The sunset squall, coming up frombehind, dissolved itself into the short deluge of a hissing shower. Itleft the ship glistening from trucks to water-line, and with darkenedsails. She ran easily before a fair monsoon, with her decks clearedfor the night; and, moving along with her, was heard the sustained andmonotonous swishing of the waves, mingled with the low whispers of menmustered aft for the setting of watches; the short plaint of some blockaloft; or, now and then, a loud sigh of wind. 

Mr. Baker, coming out of his cabin, called out the first name sharplybefore closing the door behind him. He was going to take charge of thedeck. On the homeward trip, according to an old custom of the sea, thechief officer takes the first night-watch--from eight till midnight. So Mr. Baker, after he had heard the last "Yes, sir!" said moodily, "Relieve the wheel and look-out"; and climbed with heavy feet thepoop ladder to windward. Soon after Mr. Creighton came down, whistlingsoftly, and went into the cabin. On the doorstep the steward lounged, in slippers, meditative, and with his shirt-sleeves rolled up to thearmpits. 

On the main deck the cook, locking up the galley doors, had analtercation with young Charley about a pair of socks. He could be heardsaying impressively, in the darkness amidships: "You don't deserve akindness. I've been drying them for you, and now you complain aboutthe holes--and you swear, too! Right in front of me! If I hadn't been aChristian--which you ain't, you young ruffian--I would give you a clouton the head. .. . Go away!" Men in couples or threes stood pensive ormoved silently along the bulwarks in the waist. The first busy day ofa homeward passage was sinking into the dull peace of resumed routine. Aft, on the high poop, Mr. Baker walked shuffling and grunted to himselfin the pauses of his thoughts. Forward, the look-out man, erect betweenthe flukes of the two anchors, hummed an endless tune, keeping his eyesfixed dutifully ahead in a vacant stare. A multitude of stars coming outinto the clear night peopled the emptiness of the sky. They glittered, as if alive above the sea; they surrounded the running ship onall sides; more intense than the eyes of a staring crowd, and asinscrutable as the souls of men. 

The passage had begun, and the ship, a fragment detached from the earth, went on lonely and swift like a small planet. Round her the abysses ofsky and sea met in an unattainable frontier. A great circular solitudemoved with her, ever changing and ever the same, always monotonous andalways imposing. Now and then another wandering white speck, burdenedwith life, appeared far off--disappeared; intent on its own destiny. The sun looked upon her all day, and every morning rose with a burning, round stare of undying curiosity. She had her own future; she was alivewith the lives of those beings who trod her decks; like that earth whichhad given her up to the sea, she had an intolerable load of regrets andhopes. On her lived timid truth and audacious lies; and, like the earth, she was unconscious, fair to see--and condemned by men to an ignoblefate. The august loneliness of her path lent dignity to the sordidinspiration of her pilgrimage. She drove foaming to the southward, as ifguided by the courage of a high endeavour. The smiling greatness ofthe sea dwarfed the extent of time. The days raced after one another, brilliant and quick like the flashes of a lighthouse, and the nights, eventful and short, resembled fleeting dreams. 

The men had shaken into their places, and the half-hourly voice of thebells ruled their life of unceasing care. Night and day the head andshoulders of a seaman could be seen aft by the wheel, outlined highagainst sunshine or starlight, very steady above the stir of revolvingspokes. The faces changed, passing in rotation. Youthful faces, beardedfaces, dark faces: faces serene, or faces moody, but all akin with thebrotherhood of the sea; all with the same attentive expression of eyes, carefully watching the compass or the sails. Captain Allistoun, serious, and with an old red muffler round his throat, all day long pervaded thepoop. At night, many times he rose out of the darkness of the companion, such as a phantom above a grave, and stood watchful and mute under thestars, his night-shirt fluttering like a flag--then, without a sound, sank down again. He was born on the shores of the Pentland Firth. In hisyouth he attained the rank of harpooner in Peterhead whalers. When hespoke of that time his restless grey eyes became still and cold, likethe loom of ice. Afterwards he went into the East Indian trade for thesake of change. He had commanded the _Narcissus_ since she was built. Heloved his ship, and drove her unmercifully; for his secret ambition wasto make her accomplish some day a brilliantly quick passage which wouldbe mentioned in nautical papers. He pronounced his owner's name with asardonic smile, spoke but seldom to his officers, and reproved errorsin a gentle voice, with words that cut to the quick. His hair wasiron-grey, his face hard and of the colour of pump-leather. He shavedevery morning of his life--at six--but once (being caught in a fiercehurricane eighty miles southwest of Mauritius) he had missed threeconsecutive days. He feared naught but an unforgiving God, and wished toend his days in a little house, with a plot of ground attached--far inthe country--out of sight of the sea. 

He, the ruler of that minute world, seldom descended from the Olympianheights of his poop. Below him--at his feet, so to speak--common mortalsled their busy and insignificant lives. Along the main deck, Mr. Bakergrunted in a manner bloodthirsty and innocuous; and kept all our nosesto the grindstone, being--as he once remarked--paid for doing that verything. The men working about the deck were healthy and contented--asmost seamen are, when once well out to sea. The true peace of God beginsat any spot a thousand miles from the nearest land; and when He sendsthere the messengers of His might it is not in terrible wrath againstcrime, presumption, and folly, but paternally, to chasten simplehearts--ignorant hearts that know nothing of life, and beat undisturbedby envy or greed. 

In the evening the cleared decks had a reposeful aspect, resembling theautumn of the earth. The sun was sinking to rest, wrapped in a mantle ofwarm clouds. Forward, on the end of the spare spars, the boatswainand the carpenter sat together with crossed arms; two men friendly, powerful, and deep-chested. Beside them the short, dumpy sailmaker--whohad been in the Navy--related, between the whiffs of his pipe, impossible stories about Admirals. Couples tramped backwards andforwards, keeping step and balance without effort, in a confined space. Pigs grunted in the big pigstye. Belfast, leaning thoughtfully on hiselbow, above the bars, communed with them through the silence of hismeditation. Fellows with shirts open wide on sunburnt breasts sat uponthe mooring bits, and all up the steps of the forecastle ladders. By theforemast a few discussed in a circle the characteristics of a gentleman. One said:--"It's money as does it. " Another maintained:--"No, it's theway they speak. " Lame Knowles stumped up with an unwashed face (he hadthe distinction of being the dirty man of the forecastle), and showing afew yellow fangs in a shrewd smile, explained craftily that he "hadseen some of their pants. " The backsides of them--he had observed--werethinner than paper from constant sitting down in offices, yet otherwisethey looked first-rate and would last for years. It was all appearance. "It was, " he said, "bloomin' easy to be a gentleman when you had a cleanjob for life. " They disputed endlessly, obstinate and childish; theyrepeated in shouts and with inflamed faces their amazing arguments;while the soft breeze, eddying down the enormous cavity of the foresail, distended above their bare heads, stirred the tumbled hair with a touchpassing and light like an indulgent caress. 

They were forgetting their toil, they were forgetting themselves. The cook approached to hear, and stood by, beaming with the inwardconsciousness of his faith, like a conceited saint unable to forget hisglorious reward; Donkin, solitary and brooding over his wrongs on theforecastle-head, moved closer to catch the drift of the discussion belowhim; he turned his sallow face to the sea, and his thin nostrils moved, sniffing the breeze, as he lounged negligently by the rail. In theglow of sunset faces shone with interest, teeth flashed, eyes sparkled. The walking couples stood still suddenly, with broad grins; a man, bending over a wash-tub, sat up, entranced, with the soapsuds fleckinghis wet arms. Even the three petty officers listened leaning back, comfortably propped, and with superior smiles. Belfast left offscratching the ear of his favourite pig, and, open mouthed, tried witheager eyes to have his say. He lifted his arms, grimacing and baffled. From a distance Charley screamed at the ring:--"I know about gentlemenmore'n any of you. I've been intermit with 'em. .. . I've blacked theirboots. " The cook, craning his neck to hear better, was scandalised. "Keep your mouth shut when your elders speak, you impudent youngheathen--you. " "All right, old Hallelujah, I'm done, " answered Charley, soothingly. At some opinion of dirty Knowles, delivered with an air ofsupernatural cunning, a ripple of laughter ran along, rose like a wave, burst with a startling roar. They stamped with both feet; they turnedtheir shouting faces to the sky; many, spluttering, slapped theirthighs; while one or two, bent double, gasped, hugging themselves withboth arms like men in pain. The carpenter and the boatswain, withoutchanging their attitude, shook with laughter where they sat; thesailmaker, charged with an anecdote about a Commodore, looked sulky; thecook was wiping his eyes with a greasy rag; and lame Knowles, astonishedat his own success, stood in their midst showing a slow smile. 

Suddenly the face of Donkin leaning high-shouldered over the after-railbecame grave. Something like a weak rattle was heard through theforecastle door. It became a murmur; it ended in a sighing groan. Thewasherman plunged both his arms into the tub abruptly; the cook becamemore crestfallen than an exposed backslider; the boatswain moved hisshoulders uneasily; the carpenter got up with a spring and walkedaway--while the sailmaker seemed mentally to give his story up, andbegan to puff at his pipe with sombre determination. In the blackness ofthe doorway a pair of eyes glimmered white, and big, and staring. ThenJames Wait's head protruding, became visible, as if suspended betweenthe two hands that grasped a doorpost on each side of the face. Thetassel of his blue woollen nightcap, cocked forward, danced gailyover his left eyelid. He stepped out in a tottering stride. He lookedpowerful as ever, but showed a strange and affected unsteadiness inhis gait; his face was perhaps a trifle thinner, and his eyes appearedrather startlingly prominent. He seemed to hasten the retreat ofdeparting light by his very presence; the setting sun dipped sharply, as though fleeing before our nigger; a black mist emanated from him; asubtle and dismal influence; a something cold and gloomy that floatedout and settled on all the faces like a mourning veil. The circle brokeup. The joy of laughter died on stiffened lips. There was not a smileleft among all the ship's company. Not a word was spoken. Many turnedtheir backs, trying to look unconcerned; others, with averted heads, sent half-reluctant glances out of the corners of their eyes. Theyresembled criminals conscious of misdeeds more than honest mendistracted by doubt; only two or three stared frankly, but stupidly, with lips slightly open. All expected James Wait to say something, and, at the same time, had the air of knowing beforehand what he would say. He leaned his back against the doorpost, and with heavy eyes swept overthem a glance domineering and pained, like a sick tyrant overawing acrowd of abject but untrustworthy slaves. 

No one went away. They waited in fascinated dread. He said ironically, with gasps between the words:--

"Thank you. .. Chaps. You. .. Are nice. .. And. .. Quiet. .. You are! Yellingso. .. Before. .. The door. .. . "

He made a longer pause, during which he worked his ribs in anexaggerated labour of breathing. It was intolerable. Feet were shuffled. Belfast let out a groan; but Donkin above blinked his red eyelids withinvisible eyelashes, and smiled bitterly over the nigger's head. 

The nigger went on again with surprising ease. He gasped no more, andhis voice rang, hollow and loud, as though he had been talking in anempty cavern. He was contemptuously angry. 

"I tried to get a wink of sleep. You know I can't sleep o' nights. And you come jabbering near the door here like a blooming lot of oldwomen. .. . You think yourselves good shipmates. Do you?. .. Much you carefor a dying man!"

Belfast spun away from the pigstye. "Jimmy, " he cried tremulously, "ifyou hadn't been sick I would------"

He stopped. The nigger waited awhile, then said, in a gloomy tone:--"Youwould. .. . What? Go an' fight another such one as yourself. Leaveme alone. It won't be for long. I'll soon die. .. . It's coming rightenough!"

Men stood around very still and with exasperated eyes. It was just whatthey had expected, and hated to hear, that idea of a stalking death, thrust at them many times a day like a boast and like a menace by thisobnoxious nigger. He seemed to take a pride in that death which, so far, had attended only upon the ease of his life; he was overbearing aboutit, as if no one else in the world had ever been intimate with sucha companion; he paraded it unceasingly before us with an affectionatepersistence that made its presence indubitable, and at the same timeincredible. No man could be suspected of such monstrous friendship! Washe a reality--or was he a sham--this ever-expected visitor of Jimmy's?We hesitated between pity and mistrust, while, on the slightestprovocation, he shook before our eyes the bones of his bothersome andinfamous skeleton. He was for ever trotting him out. He would talk ofthat coming death as though it had been already there, as if it had beenwalking the deck outside, as if it would presently come in to sleepin the only empty bunk; as if it had sat by his side at every meal. It interfered daily with our occupations, with our leisure, with ouramusements. We had no songs and no music in the evening, becauseJimmy (we all lovingly called him Jimmy, to conceal our hate of hisaccomplice) had managed, with that prospective decease of his, todisturb even Archie's mental balance. Archie was the owner of theconcertina; but after a couple of stinging lectures from Jimmy herefused to play any more. He said:--"Yon's an uncanny joker. I dinna kenwhat's wrang wi' him, but there's something verra wrang, verra wrang. It's nae manner of use asking me. I won't play. " Our singers became mutebecause Jimmy was a dying man. For the same reason no chap--as Knowlesremarked--could "drive in a nail to hang his few poor rags upon, "without being made aware of the enormity he committed in disturbingJimmy's interminable last moments. At night, instead of the cheerfulyell, "One bell! Turn out! Do you hear there? Hey! hey! hey! Show leg!"the watches were called man by man, in whispers, so as not to interferewith Jimmy's, possibly, last slumber on earth. True, he was alwaysawake, and managed, as we sneaked out on deck, to plant in our backssome cutting remark that, for the moment, made us feel as if we hadbeen brutes, and afterwards made us suspect ourselves of being fools. Wespoke in low tones within that fo'c'sle as though it had been a church. We ate our meals in silence and dread, for Jimmy was capricious with hisfood, and railed bitterly at the salt meat, at the biscuits, at the tea, as at articles unfit for human consumption--"let alone for a dying man!"He would say:--"Can't you find a better slice of meat for a sick manwho's trying to get home to be cured--or buried? But there! If I had achance, you fellows would do away with it. You would poison me. Lookat what you have given me!" We served him in his bed with rage andhumility, as though we had been the base courtiers of a hated prince;and he rewarded us by his unconciliating criticism. He had found thesecret of keeping for ever on the run the fundamental imbecility ofmankind; he had the secret of life, that confounded dying man, and hemade himself master of every moment of our existence. We grew desperate, and remained submissive. Emotional little Belfast was for ever on theverge of assault or on the verge of tears. One evening he confided toArchie:--"For a ha'penny I would knock his ugly black head off--theskulking dodger!" And the straightforward Archie pretended to beshocked! Such was the infernal spell which that casual St. Kitt's niggerhad cast upon our guileless manhood! But the same night Belfast stolefrom the galley the officers' Sunday fruit pie, to tempt the fastidiousappetite of Jimmy. He endangered not only his long friendship withthe cook but also--as it appeared--his eternal welfare. The cook wasoverwhelmed with grief; he did not know the culprit but he knew thatwickedness flourished; he knew that Satan was abroad amongst those men, whom he looked upon as in some way under his spiritual care. Whenever hesaw three or four of us standing together he would leave his stove, torun out and preach. We fled from him; and only Charley (who knew thethief) affronted the cook with a candid gaze which irritated the goodman. "It's you, I believe, " he groaned, sorrowful and with a patch ofsoot on his chin. "It's you. You are a brand for the burning! No more ofyour socks in my galley. " Soon, unofficially, the information was spreadabout that, should there be another case of stealing, our marmalade(an extra allowance: half a pound per man) would be stopped. Mr. Baker ceased to heap jocular abuse upon his favourites, and gruntedsuspiciously at all. The captain's cold eyes, high up on the poop, glittered mistrustful, as he surveyed us trooping in a small mob fromhalyards to braces for the usual evening pull at all the ropes. Suchstealing in a merchant ship is difficult to check, and may be taken asa declaration by men of their dislike for their officers. It is a badsymptom. It may end in God knows what trouble. The _Narcissus_ wasstill a peaceful ship, but mutual confidence was shaken. Donkin did notconceal his delight. We were dismayed. 

Then illogical Belfast reproached our nigger with great fury. JamesWait, with his elbow on the pillow, choked, gasped out:--"Did I askyou to bone the dratted thing? Blow your blamed pie. It has made meworse--you little Irish lunatic, you!" Belfast, with scarlet face andtrembling lips, made a dash at him. Every man in the forecastle rosewith a shout. There was a moment of wild tumult. Some one shriekedpiercingly:--"Easy, Belfast! Easy!. .. " We expected Belfast to strangleWait without more ado. Dust flew. We heard through it the nigger'scough, metallic and explosive like a gong. Next moment we saw Belfasthanging over him. He was saying plaintively:--"Don't! Don't, Jimmy!Don't be like that. An angel couldn't put up with ye--sick as ye are. "He looked round at us from Jimmy's bedside, his comical mouth twitching, and through tearful eyes; then he tried to put straight the disarrangedblankets. The unceasing whisper of the sea filled the forecastle. WasJames Wait frightened, or touched, or repentant? He lay on his back witha hand to his side, and as motionless as if his expected visitorhad come at last. Belfast fumbled about his feet, repeating withemotion:--"Yes. We know. Ye are bad, but. .. . Just say what ye want done, and. .. . We all know ye are bad--very bad. .. . " No! Decidedly James Waitwas not touched or repentant. Truth to say, he seemed rather startled. He sat up with incredible suddenness and ease. "Ah! You think I am bad, do you?" he said gloomily, in his clearest baritone voice (to hear himspeak sometimes you would never think there was anything wrong with thatman). "Do you?. .. Well, act according! Some of you haven't sense enoughto put a blanket shipshape over a sick man. There! Leave it alone! Ican die anyhow!" Belfast turned away limply with a gesture ofdiscouragement. In the silence of the forecastle, full of interestedmen, Donkin pronounced distinctly:--"Well, I'm blowed!" and sniggered. Wait looked at him. He looked at him in a quite friendly manner. Nobodycould tell what would please our incomprehensible invalid: but for usthe scorn of that snigger was hard to bear. 

Donkin's position in the forecastle was distinguished but unsafe. Hestood on the bad eminence of a general dislike. He was left alone; andin his isolation he could do nothing but think of the gales of theCape of Good Hope and envy us the possession of warm clothing andwaterproofs. Our sea-boots, our oilskin coats, our well-filledsea-chests, were to him so many causes for bitter meditation: he hadnone of those things, and he felt instinctively that no man, whenthe need arose, would offer to share them with him. He was impudentlycringing to us and systematically insolent to the officers. Heanticipated the best results, for himself, from such a line ofconduct--and was mistaken. Such natures forget that under extremeprovocation men will be just--whether they want to be so or not. Donkin's insolence to long-suffering Mr. Baker became at lastintolerable to us, and we rejoiced when the mate, one dark night, tamed him for good. 

It was done neatly, with great decency and decorum, and with littlenoise. We had been called--just before midnight--to trim the yards, andDonkin--as usual--made insulting remarks. We stood sleepily in a rowwith the forebrace in our hands waiting for the next order, and heard inthe darkness a scuffly trampling of feet, an exclamation of surprise, sounds of cuffs and slaps, suppressed, hissing whispers:--"Ah! Willyou!". .. "Don't!. .. Don't!". .. "Then behave. ". .. "Oh! Oh!. .. " Afterwardsthere were soft thuds mixed with the rattle of iron things as if a man'sbody had been tumbling helplessly amongst the main-pump rods. Before wecould realise the situation, Mr. Baker's voice was heard very near and alittle impatient:--"Haul away, men! Lay back on that rope!" And we didlay back on the rope with great alacrity. As if nothing had happened, the chief mate went on trimming the yards with his usual andexasperating fastidiousness. We didn't at the time see anything ofDonkin, and did not care. Had the chief officer thrown him overboard, noman would have said as much as "Hallo! he's gone!" But, in truth, nogreat harm was done--even if Donkin did lose one of his front teeth. Weperceived this in the morning, and preserved a ceremonious silence: theetiquette of the forecastle commanded us to be blind and dumb in such acase, and we cherished the decencies of our life more than ordinarylandsmen respect theirs. Charley, with unpardonable want of _savoirvivre_, yelled out:--"'Ave you been to your dentyst?. .. Hurt ye, didn'tit?" He got a box on the ear from one of his best friends. The boy wassurprised, and remained plunged in grief for at least three hours. Wewere sorry for him, but youth requires even more discipline than age. Donkin grinned venomously. From that day he became pitiless; told Jimmythat he was a "black fraud"; hinted to us that we were an imbecile lot, daily taken in by a vulgar nigger. And Jimmy seemed to like the fellow!

Singleton lived untouched by human emotions. Taciturn and unsmiling, hebreathed amongst us--in that alone resembling the rest of the crowd. We were trying to be decent chaps, and found it jolly difficult; weoscillated between the desire of virtue and the fear of ridicule; wewished to save ourselves from the pain of remorse, but did not wantto be made the contemptible dupes of our sentiment. Jimmy's hatefulaccomplice seemed to have blown with his impure breath undreamt ofsubtleties into our hearts. We were disturbed and cowardly. That weknew. Singleton seemed to know nothing, understand nothing. We hadthought him till then as wise as he looked, but now we dared, at times, suspect him of being stupid--from old age. One day, however, at dinner, as we sat on our boxes round a tin dish that stood on the deck withinthe circle of our feet, Jimmy expressed his general disgust with men andthings in words that were particularly disgusting. Singleton lifted hishead. We became mute. The old man, addressing Jimmy, asked:--"Are youdying?" Thus interrogated, James Wait appeared horribly startled andconfused. We all were startled. Mouths remained open; hearts thumped, eyes blinked; a dropped tin fork rattled in the dish; a man rose as ifto go out, and stood still. In less than a minute Jimmy pulled himselftogether:--"Why? Can't you see I am?" he answered shakily. Singletonlifted a piece of soaked biscuit ("his teeth"--he declared--"had no edgeon them now") to his lips. --"Well, get on with your dying, " he said withvenerable mildness; "don't raise a blamed fuss with us over that job. We can't help you. " Jimmy fell back in his bunk, and for a long time layvery still wiping the perspiration off his chin. The dinner-tins wereput away quickly. On deck we discussed the incident in whispers. Someshowed a chuckling exultation. Many looked grave. Wamibo, after longperiods of staring dreaminess, attempted abortive smiles; and one ofthe young Scandinavians, much tormented by doubt, ventured in the seconddog-watch to approach Singleton (the old man did not encourage us muchto speak to him) and ask sheepishly:--"You think he will die?" Singletonlooked up. --"Why, of course he will die, " he said deliberately. Thisseemed decisive. It was promptly imparted to every one by him who hadconsulted the oracle. Shy and eager, he would step up and with avertedgaze recite his formula:--"Old Singleton says he will die. " It was arelief! At last we knew that our compassion would not be misplaced, andwe could again smile without misgivings--but we reckoned without Donkin. Donkin "didn't want to 'ave no truck with 'em dirty furriners. " WhenNilsen came to him with the news: "Singleton says he will die, " heanswered him by a spiteful "And so will you--you fat-headed Dutchman. Wish you Dutchmen were all dead--'stead comin' takin' our money interyour starvin' country. " We were appalled. We perceived that after allSingleton's answer meant nothing. We began to hate him for making funof us. All our certitudes were going; we were on doubtful terms withour officers; the cook had given us up for lost; we had overheard theboatswain's opinion that "we were a crowd of softies. " We suspectedJimmy, one another, and even our very selves. We did not know whatto do. At every insignificant turn of our humble life we met Jimmyoverbearing and blocking the way, arm-in-arm with his awful and veiledfamiliar. It was a weird servitude. 

It began a week after leaving Bombay and came on us stealthily like anyother great misfortune. Every one had remarked that Jimmy from the firstwas very slack at his work; but we thought it simply the outcome of hisphilosophy of life. Donkin said:--"You put no more weight on a ropethan a bloody sparrer. " He disdained him. Belfast, ready for a fight, exclaimed provokingly:--"You don't kill yourself, old man!"--"Wouldyou?" he retorted with extreme, scorn--and Belfast retired. One morning, as we were washing decks, Mr. Baker called to him:--"Bring your broomover here, Wait. " He strolled languidly. 

"Move yourself! Ough!" grunted Mr. Baker; "what's the matter with yourhind legs?" He stopped dead short. He gazed slowly with eyes that bulgedout with an expression audacious and sad. --"It isn't my legs, " he said, "it's my lungs. " Everybody listened. --"What's. .. Ough!. .. What's wrongwith them?" inquired Mr. Baker. All the watch stood around on the wetdeck, grinning, and with brooms or buckets in their hands. He saidmournfully:--"Going--or gone. Can't you see I'm a dying man? I knowit!" Mr. Baker was disgusted. --"Then why the devil did you ship aboardhere?"--"I must live till I die--mustn't I?" he replied. The grinsbecame audible. --"Go off my deck--get out of my sight, " said Mr. Baker. He was nonplussed. It was a unique experience. James Wait, obedient, dropped his broom, and walked slowly forward. A burst of laughterfollowed him. It was too funny. All hands laughed. .. . They laughed!. .. Alas!

He became the tormentor of all our moments; he ''was worse than anightmare. You couldn't see that there was anything wrong with him: anigger does not show. He was not very fat--certainly--but then he was noleaner than other niggers we had known. He coughed often, but the mostprejudiced person could perceive that, mostly, he coughed when it suitedhis purpose. He wouldn't, or couldn't, do his work--and he wouldn'tlie-up. One day he would skip aloft with the best of them, and next timewe would be obliged to risk our lives to get his limp body down. Hewas reported, he was examined; he was remonstrated with, threatened, cajoled, lectured. He was called into the cabin to interview thecaptain. There were wild rumours. It was said he had cheeked the oldman; it was said he had frightened him. Charley maintained that the"skipper, weepin, ' 'as giv' 'im 'is blessin' an' a pot of jam. " Knowleshad it from the steward that the unspeakable Jimmy had been reelingagainst the cabin furniture; that he had groaned; that he had complainedof general brutality and disbelief; and had ended by coughing all overthe old man's meteorological journals which were then spread on thetable. At any rate, Wait returned forward supported by the steward, who, in a pained and shocked voice, entreated us:--"Here! Catch hold of him, one of you. He is to lie-up. " Jimmy drank a tin mugful of coffee, and, after bullying first one and then another, went to bed. He remainedthere most of the time, but when it suited him would come on deck andappear amongst us. He was scornful and brooding; he looked ahead uponthe sea, and no one could tell what was the meaning of that black mansitting apart in a meditative attitude and as motionless as a carving. 

He refused steadily all medicine; he threw sago and cornflour overboardtill the steward got tired of bringing it to him. He asked forparegoric. They sent him a big bottle; enough to poison a wildernessof babies. He kept it between his mattress and the deal lining of theship's side; and nobody ever saw him take a dose. Donkin abused him tohis face, jeered at him while he gasped; and the same day Wait wouldlend him a warm jersey. Once Donkin reviled him for half an hour;reproached him with the extra work his malingering gave to the watch;and ended by calling him "a black-faced swine. " Under the spell of ouraccursed perversity we were horror-struck. But Jimmy positively seemedto revel in that abuse. It made him look cheerful--and Donkin had a pairof old sea boots thrown at him. "Here, you East-end trash, " boomed Wait, "you may have that. "

At last Mr. Baker had to tell the captain that James Wait was disturbingthe peace of the ship. "Knock discipline on the head--he will, Ough, "grunted Mr. Baker. As a matter of fact, the starboard watch came as nearas possible to refusing duty, when ordered one morning by the boatswainto wash out their forecastle. It appears Jimmy objected to a wetfloor--and that morning we were in a compassionate mood. We thoughtthe boatswain a brute, and, practically, told him so. Only Mr. Baker'sdelicate tact prevented an all-fired row: he refused to take usseriously. He came bustling forward, and called us many unpolite namesbut in such a hearty and seamanlike manner that we began to feel ashamedof ourselves. In truth, we thought him much too good a sailor to annoyhim willingly: and after all Jimmy might have been a fraud--probablywas! The forecastle got a clean up that morning; but in the afternoona sick-bay was fitted up in the deck-house. It was a nice littlecabin opening on deck, and with two berths. Jimmy's belongings weretransported there, and then--notwithstanding his protests--Jimmyhimself. He said he couldn't walk. Four men carried him on a blanket. Hecomplained that he would have to die there alone, like a dog. We grievedfor him, and were delighted to have him removed from the forecastle. Weattended him as before. The galley was next door, and the cook looked inmany times a day. Wait became a little more cheerful. Knowles affirmedhaving heard him laugh to himself in peals one day. Others had seen himwalking about on deck at night. His little place, with the door ajaron a long hook, was always full of tobacco smoke. We spoke through thecrack cheerfully, sometimes abusively, as we passed by, intent on ourwork. He fascinated us. He would never let doubt die. He overshadowedthe ship. Invulnerable in his promise of speedy corruption he trampledon our self-respect, he demonstrated to us daily our want of moralcourage; he tainted our lives. Had we been a miserable gang of wretchedimmortals, unhallowed alike by hope and fear, he could not have lordedit over us with a more pitiless assertion of his sublime privilege. 

CHAPTER THREE

Meantime the _Narcissus_, with square yards, ran out of the fairmonsoon. She drifted slowly, swinging round and round the compass, through a few days of baffling light airs. Under the patter of shortwarm showers, grumbling men whirled the heavy yards from side to side;they caught hold of the soaked ropes with groans and sighs, while theirofficers, sulky and dripping with rain water, unceasingly ordered themabout in wearied voices. During the short respites they looked withdisgust into the smarting palms of their stiff hands, and asked oneanother bitterly:--"Who would be a sailor if he could be a farmer?" Allthe tempers were spoilt, and no man cared what he said. One black night, when the watch, panting in the heat and half-drowned with the rain, had been through four mortal hours hunted from brace to brace, Belfastdeclared that he would "chuck the sea for ever and go in asteamer. " This was excessive, no doubt. Captain Allistoun, with greatself-control, would mutter sadly to Mr. Baker:--"It is not so bad--notso bad, " when he had managed to shove, and dodge, and manoeuvre hissmart ship through sixty miles in twenty-four hours. From the doorstepof the little cabin, Jimmy, chin in hand, watched our distastefullabours with insolent and melancholy eyes. We spoke to him gently--andout of his sight exchanged sour smiles. 

Then, again, with a fair wind and under a clear sky, the ship wenton piling up the South Latitude. She passed outside Madagascar andMauritius without a glimpse of the land. Extra lashings were put on thespare spars. Hatches were looked to. The steward in his leisure momentsand with a worried air tried to fit washboards to the cabin doors. Stoutcanvas was bent with care. Anxious eyes looked to the westward, towardsthe cape of storms. The ship began to dip into a southwest swell, andthe softly luminous sky of low latitudes took on a harder sheen fromday to day above our heads: it arched high above the ship vibrating andpale, like an immense dome of steel, resonant with the deep voice offreshening gales. The sunshine gleamed cold on the white curls of blackwaves. Before the strong breath of westerly squalls the ship, withreduced sail, lay slowly over, obstinate and yielding. She drove to andfro in the unceasing endeavour to fight her way through the invisibleviolence of the winds: she pitched headlong into dark smooth hollows;she struggled upwards over the snowy ridges of great running seas; sherolled, restless, from side to side, like a thing in pain. Enduring andvaliant, she answered to the call of men; and her slim spars waving forever in abrupt semicircles, seemed to beckon in vain for help towardsthe stormy sky. 

It was a bad winter off the Cape that year. The relieved helmsmen cameoff flapping their arms, or ran stamping hard and blowing into swollen, red fingers. The watch on deck dodged the sting of cold sprays or, crouching in sheltered corners, watched dismally the high and mercilessseas boarding the ship time after time in unappeasable fury. Watertumbled in cataracts over the forecastle doors. You had to dash througha waterfall to get into your damp bed. The men turned in wet and turnedout stiff to face the redeeming and ruthless exactions of their gloriousand obscure fate. Far aft, and peering watchfully to windward, theofficers could be seen through the mist of squalls. They stood by theweather-rail, holding on grimly, straight and glistening in their longcoats; and in the disordered plunges of the hard-driven ship, theyappeared high up, attentive, tossing violently above the grey line of aclouded horizon in motionless attitudes. 

They watched the weather and the ship as men on shore watch themomentous chances of fortune. Captain Allistoun never left the deck, as though he had been part of the ship's fittings. Now and then thesteward, shivering, but always in shirt sleeves, would struggle towardshim with some hot coffee, half of which the gale blew out of the cupbefore it reached the master's lips. He drank what was left gravely inone long gulp, while heavy sprays pattered loudly on his oilskin coat, the seas swishing broke about his high boots; and he never took his eyesoff the ship. He kept his gaze riveted upon her as a loving man watchesthe unselfish toil of a delicate woman upon the slender thread of whoseexistence is hung the whole meaning and joy of the world. We all watchedher. She was beautiful and had a weakness. We loved her no less forthat. We admired her qualities aloud, we boasted of them to one another, as though they had been our own, and the consciousness of her only faultwe kept buried in the silence of our profound affection. She was bornin the thundering peal of hammers beating upon iron, in black eddies ofsmoke, under a grey sky, on the banks of the Clyde. The clamorous andsombre stream gives birth to things of beauty that float away into thesunshine of the world to be loved by men. The _Narcissus_ was one ofthat perfect brood. Less perfect than many perhaps, but she was ours, and, consequently, incomparable. We were proud of her. In Bombay, ignorant landlubbers alluded to her as that "pretty grey ship. " Pretty!A scurvy meed of commendation! We knew she was the most magnificentsea-boat ever launched. We tried to forget that, like many goodsea-boats, she was at times rather crank. She was exacting. She wantedcare in loading and handling, and no one knew exactly how much carewould be enough. Such are the imperfections of mere men! The ship knew, and sometimes would correct the presumptuous human ignorance by thewholesome discipline of fear. We had heard ominous stories about pastvoyages. The cook (technically a seaman, but in reality no sailor)--thecook, when unstrung by some misfortune, such as the rolling over of asaucepan, would mutter gloomily while he wiped the floor:--"There! Lookat what she has done! Some voy'ge she will drown all hands! You'll seeif she won't. " To which the steward, snatching in the galley a momentto draw breath in the hurry of his worried life, would remarkphilosophically:--"Those that see won't tell, anyhow. I don't want tosee it. " We derided those fears. Our hearts went out to the old man whenhe pressed her hard so as to make her hold her own, hold to every inchgained to windward; when he made her, under reefed sails, leap obliquelyat enormous waves. The men, knitted together aft into a ready group bythe first sharp order of an officer coming to take charge of the deck inbad weather:--"Keep handy the watch, " stood admiring her valiance. Theireyes blinked in the wind; their dark faces were wet with drops of watermore salt and bitter than human tears; beards and moustaches, soaked, hung straight and dripping like fine seaweed. They were fantasticallyMisshapen; in high boots, in hats like helmets, and swaying clumsily, stiff and bulky in glistening oilskins, they resembled men strangelyequipped for some fabulous adventure. Whenever she rose easily toa towering green sea, elbows dug ribs, faces brightened, lipsmurmured:--"Didn't she do it cleverly, " and all the heads turning likeone watched with sardonic grins the foiled wave go roaring to leeward, white with the foam of a monstrous rage. But when she had not beenquick enough and, struck heavily, lay over trembling under the blow, weclutched at ropes, and looking up at the narrow bands of drenched andstrained sails waving desperately aloft, we thought in our hearts:--"Nowonder. Poor thing!"

The thirty-second day out of Bombay began inauspiciously. In themorning a sea smashed one of the galley doors. We dashed in throughlots of steam and found the cook very wet and indignant with theship:--"She's getting worse every day. She's trying to drown me in frontof my own stove!" He was very angry. We pacified him, and the carpenter, though washed away twice from there, managed to repair the door. Throughthat accident our dinner was not ready till late, but it didn't matterin the end because Knowles, who went to fetch it, got knocked down by asea and the dinner went over the side. Captain Allistoun, looking morehard and thin-lipped than ever, hung on to full topsails and foresail, and would not notice that the ship, asked to do too much, appeared tolose heart altogether for the first time since we knew her. She refusedto rise, and bored her way sullenly through the seas. Twice running, as though she had been blind or weary of life, she put her nosedeliberately into a big wave and swept the decks from end to end. As theboatswain observed with marked annoyance, while we were splashing aboutin a body to try and save a worthless wash-tub:--"Every blooming thingin the ship is going overboard this afternoon. " Venerable Singletonbroke his habitual silence and said with a glance aloft:--"The oldman's in a temper with the weather, but it's no good bein' angry withthe winds of heaven. " Jimmy had shut his door, of course. We knew he wasdry and comfortable within his little cabin, and in our absurd way werepleased one moment, exasperated the next, by that certitude. Donkinskulked shamelessly, uneasy and miserable. He grumbled:--"I'm perishin'with cold outside in bloomin' wet rags, an' that 'ere black sojer sitsdry on a blamed chest full of bloomin' clothes; blank his black soul!"We took no notice of him; we hardly gave a thought to Jimmy and hisbosom friend. There was no leisure for idle probing of hearts. Sailsblew adrift. Things broke loose. Cold and wet, we were washed aboutthe deck while trying to repair damages. The ship tossed about, shakenfuriously, like a toy in the hand of a lunatic. Just at sunset therewas a rush to shorten sail before the menace of a sombre hail cloud. Thehard gust of wind came brutal like the blow of a fist. The ship relievedof her canvas in time received it pluckily: she yielded reluctantlyto the violent onset; then coming up with a stately and irresistiblemotion, brought her spars to windward in the teeth of the screechingsquall. Out of the abysmal darkness of the black cloud overhead whitehail streamed on her, rattled on the rigging, leaped in handfuls off theyards, rebounded on the deck--round and gleaming in the murky turmoillike a shower of pearls. It passed away. For a moment a livid sun shothorizontally the last rays of sinister light between the hills of steep, rolling waves. Then a wild night rushed in--stamped out in a great howlthat dismal remnant of a stormy day. 

There was no sleep on board that night. Most seamen remember in theirlife one or two such nights of a culminating gale. Nothing seems left ofthe whole universe but darkness, clamour, fury--and the ship. Andlike the last vestige of a shattered creation she drifts, bearing ananguished remnant of sinful mankind, through the distress, tumult, andpain of an avenging terror. No one slept in the forecastle. The tinoil-lamp suspended on a long string, smoking, described wide circles;wet clothing made dark heaps on the glistening floor; a thin layer ofwater rushed to and fro. In the bed-places men lay booted, resting onelbows and with open eyes. Hung-up suits of oilskin swung out andin, lively and disquieting like reckless ghosts of decapitated seamendancing in a tempest. No one spoke and all listened. Outside the nightmoaned and sobbed to the accompaniment of a continuous loud tremor asof innumerable drums beating far off. Shrieks passed through the air. Tremendous dull blows made the ship tremble while she rolled under theweight of the seas toppling on her deck. At times she soared up swiftlyas if to leave this earth for ever, then during interminable momentsfell through a void with all the hearts on board of her standing still, till a frightful shock, expected and sudden, started them off again witha big thump. After every dislocating jerk of the ship, Wamibo, stretchedfull length, his face on the pillow, groaned slightly with the pain ofhis tormented universe. Now and then, for the fraction of an intolerablesecond, the ship, in the fiercer burst of a terrible uproar, remained onher side, vibrating and still, with a stillness more appalling than thewildest motion. Then upon all those prone bodies a stir would pass, ashiver of suspense. A man would protrude his anxious head and a pairof eyes glistened in the sway of light glaring wildly. Some moved theirlegs a little as if making ready to jump out. But several, motionless ontheir backs and with one hand gripping hard the edge of the bunk, smokednervously with quick puffs, staring upwards; immobilised in a greatcraving for peace. 

At midnight, orders were given to furl the fore and mizen topsails. Withimmense efforts men crawled aloft through a merciless buffeting, savedthe canvas and crawled down almost exhausted, to bear in panting silencethe cruel battering of the seas. Perhaps for the first time in thehistory of the merchant service the watch, told to go below, did notleave the deck, as if compelled to remain there by the fascination of avenomous violence. At every heavy gust men, huddled together, whisperedto one another. '--"It can blow no harder"--and presently the gale wouldgive: them the lie with a piercing shriek, and drive their breath backinto their throats. A fierce squall seemed to burst asunder the thickmass of sooty vapours; and above the wrack of torn clouds glimpses couldbe caught of the high moon rushing backwards with frightful speed overthe sky, right into the wind's eye. Many hung their heads, mutteringthat it "turned their inwards out" to look at it. Soon the clouds closedup and the world again became a raging, blind darkness that howled, flinging at the lonely ship salt sprays and sleet. 

About half-past seven the pitchy obscurity round us turned a ghastlygrey, and we knew that the sun had risen. This unnatural and threateningdaylight, in which we could see one another's wild eyes and drawn faces, was only an added tax on our endurance. The horizon seemed to have comeon all sides within arm's length of the ship. Into that narrowed circlefurious seas leaped in, struck, and leaped out. A rain of salt, heavydrops flew aslant like mist. The main-topsail had to be goose-winged, and with stolid resignation every one prepared to go aloft once more; butthe officers yelled, pushed back, and at last we understood that no moremen would be allowed to go on the yard than were absolutely necessaryfor the work. As at any moment the masts were likely to be jumped outor blown overboard, we concluded that the captain didn't want to see allhis crowd go over the side at once. That was reasonable. The watch thenon duty, led by Mr. Creighton, began to struggle up the rigging. Thewind flattened them against the ratlines; then, easing a little, wouldlet them ascend a couple of steps; and again, with a sudden gust, pinall up the shrouds the whole crawling line in attitudes of crucifixion. The other watch plunged down on the main deck to haul up the sail. Men'sheads bobbed up as the water flung them irresistibly from side to side. Mr. Baker grunted encouragingly in our midst, spluttering and blowingamongst the tangled ropes like an energetic porpoise. Favoured by anominous and untrustworthy lull, the work was done without any one beinglost either off the deck or from the yard. For the moment the galeseemed to take off, and the ship, as if grateful for our efforts, plucked up heart and made better weather of it. 

At eight the men off duty, watching their chance, ran forward over theflooded deck to get some rest. The other half of the crew remained aftfor their turn of "seeing her through her trouble, " as they expressedit. The two mates urged the master to go below. Mr. Baker grunted in hisear:--"Ough! surely now. .. Ough!. .. Confidence in us. .. Nothing more todo. .. She must lay it out or go. 

"Ough! Ough!" Tall young Mr. Creighton smiled down at himcheerfully:--". .. She's as right as a trivet! Take a spell, sir. " Helooked at them Stonily with bloodshot, sleepless eyes. The rims of hiseyelids were scarlet, and he moved his jaws unceasingly with a sloweffort, as though he had been masticating a lump of india-rubber. Heshook his head. He repeated:--"Never mind me. I must see it out--I mustsee it out, " but he consented to sit down for a moment on the skylight, with his hard face turned unflinchingly to windward. The sea spat atit--and stoical, it streamed with water as though he had been weeping. On the weather side of the poop the watch, hanging on to the mizenrigging and to one another, tried to exchange encouraging words. Singleton, at the wheel, yelled out:--"Look out for yourselves!" Hisvoice reached them in a warning whisper. They were startled. 

A big, foaming sea came out of the mist; it made for the ship, roaringwildly, and in its rush it looked as mischievous and discomposing asa madman with an axe. One or two, shouting, scrambled up the rigging;most, with a convulsive catch of the breath, held on where they stood. Singleton dug his knees under the wheel-box, and carefully eased thehelm to the headlong pitch of the ship, but without taking his eyesoff the coming wave. It towered close-to and high, like a wall of greenglass topped with snow. The ship rose to it as though she had soared onwings, and for a moment rested poised upon the foaming crest as if shehad been a great sea-bird. Before we could draw breath a heavy guststruck her, another roller took her unfairly under the weather bow, shegave a toppling lurch, and filled her decks. Captain Allistoun leapedup, and fell; Archie rolled over him, screaming:--"She will rise!"

She gave another lurch to leeward; the lower deadeyes dipped heavily;the men's feet flew from under them, and they hung kicking above theslanting poop. They could see the ship putting her side in the water, and shouted all together:--"She's going!" Forward the forecastle doorsflew open, and the watch below were seen leaping out one after another, throwing their arms up; and, falling on hands and knees, scrambled afton all fours along the high side of the deck, sloping more than theroof of a house. From leeward the seas rose, pursuing them; they lookedwretched in a hopeless struggle, like vermin fleeing before a flood;they fought up the weather ladder of the poop one after another, halfnaked and staring wildly; and as soon as they got up they shot toleeward in clusters, with closed eyes, till they brought up heavily withtheir ribs against the iron stanchions of the rail; then, groaning, theyrolled in a confused mass. The immense volume of water thrown forwardby the last scend of the ship had burst the lee door of the forecastle. They could see their chests, pillows, blankets, clothing, come outfloating upon the sea. While they struggled back to windward theylooked in dismay. The straw beds swam high, the blankets, spread out, undulated; while the chests, waterlogged and with a heavy list, pitchedheavily like dismasted hulks, before they sank; Archie's big coat passedwith outspread arms, resembling a drowned seaman floating with his headunder water. Men were slipping down while trying to dig their fingersinto the planks; others, jammed in corners, rolled enormous eyes. Theyall yelled unceasingly:--"The masts! Cut! Cut!. .. " A black squall howledlow over the ship, that lay on her side with the weather yard-armspointing to the clouds; while the tall masts, inclined nearly to thehorizon, seemed to be of an immeasurable length. The carpenter let gohis hold, rolled against the skylight, and began to crawl to the cabinentrance, where a big axe was kept ready for just such an emergency. At that moment the topsail sheet parted, the end of the heavy chainracketed aloft, and sparks of red fire streamed down through the flyingsprays. The sail flapped once with a jerk that seemed to tear our heartsout through our teeth, and instantly changed into a bunch of flutteringnarrow ribbons that tied themselves into knots and became quiet alongthe yard. Captain Allistoun struggled, managed to stand up with hisface near the deck, upon which men swung on the ends of ropes, like nestrobbers upon a cliff. One of his feet was on somebody's chest; hisface was purple; his lips moved. He yelled also; he yelled, bendingdown:--"No! No!" Mr. Baker, one leg over the binnacle-stand, roaredout:--"Did you say no? Not cut?" He shook his head madly. "No! No!"Between his legs the crawling carpenter heard, collapsed at once, and lay full length in the angle of the skylight. Voices took up theshout--"No! No!" Then all became still. They waited for the ship to turnover altogether, and shake them out into the sea; and upon the terrificnoise of wind and sea not a murmur of remonstrance came out from thosemen, who each would have given ever so many years of life to see "themdamned sticks go overboard!" They all believed it their only chance; buta little hard-faced man shook his grey head and shouted "No!" withoutgiving them as much as a glance. They were silent, and gasped. Theygripped rails, they had wound ropes'-ends under their arms; theyclutched ringbolts, they crawled in heaps where there was foothold; theyheld on with both arms, hooked themselves to anything to windward withelbows, with chins, almost with their teeth: and some, unable to crawlaway from where they had been flung, felt the sea leap up, strikingagainst their backs as they struggled upwards. Singleton had stuck tothe wheel. His hair flew out in the wind; the gale seemed to take itslife-long adversary by the beard and shake his old head. He wouldn't letgo, and, with his knees forced between the spokes, flew up and down likea man on a bough. As Death appeared unready, they began to look about. Don-kin, caught by one foot in a loop of some rope, hung, head down, below us, and yelled, with his face to the deck:--"Cut! Cut!" Two menlowered themselves cautiously to him; others hauled on the rope. Theycaught him up, shoved him into a safer place, held him. He shoutedcurses at the master, shook his fist at him with horrible blasphemies, called upon us in filthy words to "Cut! Don't mind that murdering fool!Cut, some of you!" One of his rescuers struck him a back-handed blowover the mouth; his head banged on the deck, and he became suddenly veryquiet, with a white face, breathing hard, and with a few drops of bloodtrickling from his cut lip. On the lee side another man could be seenstretched out as if stunned; only the washboard prevented him from goingover the side. It was the steward. We had to sling him up like a bale, for he was paralysed with fright. He had rushed up out of the pantrywhen he felt the ship go over, and had rolled down helplessly, clutchinga china mug. It was not broken. With difficulty we tore it away fromhim, and when he saw it in our hands he was amazed. "Where did you getthat thing?" he kept on asking us in a trembling voice. His shirt wasblown to shreds; the ripped sleeves flapped like wings. Two men made himfast, and, doubled over the rope that held him, he resembled a bundle ofwet rags. Mr. Baker crawled along the line of men, asking:--"Are youall there?" and looking them over. Some blinked vacantly, othersshook convulsively; Wamibo's head hung over his breast; and in painfulattitudes, cut by lashings, exhausted with clutching, screwed up incorners, they breathed heavily. Their lips twitched, and at everysickening heave of the overturned ship they opened them wide as if toshout. The cook, embracing a wooden stanchion, unconsciously repeated aprayer. In every short interval of the fiendish noises around he couldbe heard there, without cap or slippers, imploring in that storm theMaster of our lives not to lead him into temptation. Soon he also becamesilent. In all that crowd of cold and hungry men, waiting wearily fora violent death, not a voice was heard; they were mute, and in sombrethoughtfulness listened to the horrible imprecations of the gale. 

Hours passed. They were sheltered by the heavy inclination of the shipfrom the wind that rushed in one long unbroken moan above their heads, but cold rain showers fell at times into the uneasy calm of theirrefuge. Under the torment of that new infliction a pair of shoulderswould writhe a little. Teeth chattered. The sky was clearing, and brightsunshine gleamed over the ship. After every burst of battering seas, vivid and fleeting rainbows arched over the drifting hull in the flickof sprays. The gale was ending in a clear blow, which gleamed and cutlike a knife. Between two bearded shellbacks Charley, fastened withsomebody's long muffler to a deck ring-bolt, wept quietly, with raretears wrung out by bewilderment, cold, hunger, and general misery. Oneof his neighbours punched him in the ribs asking roughly:--"What'sthe matter with your cheek? In fine weather there's no holding you, youngster. " Turning about with prudence he worked himself out ofhis coat and threw it over the boy. The other man closed up, muttering:--"'Twill make a bloomin' man of you, sonny. " They flung theirarms over and pressed against him. Charley drew his feet up and hiseyelids dropped. Sighs were heard, as men, perceiving that they were notto be "drowned in a hurry, " tried easier positions. Mr. Creighton, whohad hurt his leg, lay amongst us with compressed lips. Some fellowsbelonging to his watch set about securing him better. Without a wordor a glance he lifted his arms one after another to facilitate theoperation, and not a muscle moved in his stern, young face. Theyasked him with solicitude:--"Easier now, sir?" He answered with acurt:--"That'll do. " He was a hard young officer, but many of hiswatch used to say they liked him well enough because he had "such agentlemanly way of damning us up and down the deck. " Others unable todiscern such fine shades of refinement, respected him for his smartness. For the first time since the ship had gone on her beam ends CaptainAllistoun gave a short glance down at his men. He was almostupright--one foot against the side of the skylight, one knee on thedeck; and with the end of the vang round his waist swung back and forthwith his gaze fixed ahead, watchful, like a man looking out for a sign. Before his eyes the ship, with half her deck below water, rose and fellon heavy seas that rushed from under her flashing in the cold sunshine. We began to think she was wonderfully buoyant--considering. Confidentvoices were heard shouting:--"She'll do, boys!" Belfast exclaimed withfervour:--"I would giv' a month's pay for a draw at a pipe!" One ortwo, passing dry tongues on their salt lips, muttered something about a"drink of water. " The cook, as if inspired, scrambled up with his breastagainst the poop water-cask and looked in. There was a little at thebottom. He yelled, waving his arms, and two men began to crawl backwardsand forwards with the mug. We had a good mouthful all round. The mastershook his head impatiently, refusing. When it came to Charley one of hisneighbours shouted:--"That bloom-in' boy's asleep. " He slept as thoughhe had been dosed with narcotics. They let him be. Singleton held tothe wheel with one hand while he drank, bending down to shelter his lipsfrom the wind. Wamibo had to be poked and yelled at before he saw themug held before his eyes. Knowles said sagaciously:--"It's better'na tot o' rum. " Mr. Baker grunted:--"Thank ye. " Mr. Creighton drank andnodded. Donkin gulped greedily, glaring over the rim. Belfast made uslaugh when with grimacing mouth he shouted:--"Pass it this way. We'reall taytottlers here. " The master, presented with the mug again by acrouching man, who screamed up at him:--"We all had a drink, captain, "groped for it without ceasing to look ahead, and handed it back stifflyas though he could not spare half a glance away from the ship. Facesbrightened. We shouted to the cook:--"Well done, doctor!" He sat toleeward, propped by the water-cask and yelled back abundantly, but theseas were breaking in thunder just then, and we only caught snatchesthat sounded like: "Providence" and "born again. " He was at his old gameof preaching. We made friendly but derisive gestures at him, and frombelow he lifted one arm, holding on with the other, moved his lips;he beamed up to us, straining his voice--earnest, and ducking his headbefore the sprays. 

Suddenly some one cried:--"Where's Jimmy?" and we were appalled oncemore. On the end of the row the boatswain shouted hoarsely:--"Has anyone seed him come out?" Voices exclaimed dismally:--"Drowned--is he?. .. No! In his cabin!. .. Good Lord!. .. Caught like a bloomin' rat in atrap. .. . Couldn't open his door. .. Aye! She went over too quick andthe water jammed it. .. Poor beggar!. .. No help for 'im. .. . Let's go andsee. .. " "Damn him, who could go?" screamed Donkin. --"Nobody expects youto, " growled the man next to him: "you're only a thing. "--"Is there halfa chance to get at 'im?" inquired two or three men together. Belfastuntied himself with blind impetuosity, and all at once shot down toleeward quicker than a flash of lightning. We shouted all together withdismay; but with his legs overboard he held and yelled for a rope. Inour extremity nothing could be terrible; so we judged him funny kickingthere, and with his scared face. Some one began to laugh, and, as ifhysterically infected with screaming merriment, all those haggard menwent off laughing, wild-eyed, like a lot of maniacs tied up on a wall. Mr. Baker swung off the binnacle-stand and tendered him one leg. Hescrambled up rather scared, and consigning us with abominable words tothe "divvle. " "You are. .. . Ough! You're a foul-mouthed beggar, Craik, "grunted Mr. Baker. He answered, stuttering with indignation:--"Lookat 'em, sorr. The bloomin dirty images! laughing at a chum goingoverboard. Call themselves men, too. " But from the break of the poop theboatswain called out:--"Come along, " and Belfast crawled away in a hurryto join him. The five men, poised and gazing over the edge of the poop, looked for the best way to get forward. They seemed to hesitate. Theothers, twisting in their lashings, turning painfull, stared with openlips. Captain Allistoun saw nothing; he seemed with his eyes to hold theship up in a superhuman concentration of effort. The wind screamed loudin sunshine; columns of spray rose straight up; and in the glitter ofrainbows bursting over the trembling hull the men went over cautiously, disappearing from sight with deliberate movements. 

They went swinging from belaying pin to cleat above the seas that beatthe half-submerged deck. Their toes scraped the planks. Lumps of greencold water toppled over the bulwark and on their heads. They hung for amoment on strained arms, with the breath knocked out of them, and withclosed eyes--then, letting go with one hand, balanced with lollingheads, trying to grab some rope or stanchion further forward. Thelong-armed and athletic boatswain swung quickly, gripping things with afist hard as iron, and remembering suddenly snatches of the last letterfrom his "old woman. " Little Belfast scrambled in a rage spluttering"cursed nigger. " Wamibo's tongue hung out with excitement; and Archie, intrepid and calm, watched his chance to move with intelligent coolness. 

When above the side of the house, they let go one after another, andfalling heavily, sprawled, pressing their palms to the smooth teak wood. Round them the backwash of waves seethed white and hissing. All thedoors had become trap-doors, of course. The first was the galley door. The galley extended from side to side, and they could hear the seasplashing with hollow noises in there. The next door was that of thecarpenter's shop. They lifted it, and looked down. The room seemed tohave been devastated by an earthquake. Everything in it had tumbled onthe bulkhead facing the door, and on the other side of that bulkheadthere was Jimmy dead or alive. The bench, a half-finished meat-safe, saws, chisels, wire rods, axes, crowbars, lay in a heap besprinkledwith loose nails. A sharp adze stuck up with a shining edge thatgleamed dangerously down there like a wicked smile. The men clung to oneanother, peering. A sickening, sly lurch of the ship nearly sent themoverboard in a body. Belfast howled "Here goes!" and leaped down. Archiefollowed cannily, catching at shelves that gave way with him, and easedhimself in a great crash of ripped wood. There was hardly room forthree men to move. And in the sunshiny blue square of the door, theboatswain's face, bearded and dark, Wamibo's face, wild and pale, hungover--watching. 

Together they shouted: "Jimmy! Jim!" From above the boatswaincontributed a deep growl: "You. Wait!" In a pause, Belfast entreated:"Jimmy, darlin', are ye aloive?" The boatswain said: "Again! Alltogether, boys!" All yelled excitedly. Wamibo made noises resemblingloud barks. Belfast drummed on the side of the bulkhead with a piece ofiron. All ceased suddenly. The sound of screaming and hammering wenton thin and distinct--like a solo after a chorus. He was alive. He wasscreaming and knocking below us with the hurry of a man prematurelyshut up in a coffin. We went to work. We attacked with desperation theabominable heap of things heavy, of things sharp, of things clumsy tohandle. The boatswain crawled away to find somewhere a flying end of arope; and Wamibo, held back by shouts:--"Don't jump!. .. Don't comein here, muddle-head!"--remained glaring above us--all shining eyes, gleaming fangs, tumbled hair; resembling an amazed and half-witted fiendgloating over the extraordinary agitation of the damned. The boatswainadjured us to "bear a hand, " and a rope descended. We made things fastto it and they went up spinning, never to be seen by man again. A rageto fling things overboard possessed us. We worked fiercely, cutting ourhands and speaking brutally to one another. Jimmy kept up a distractingrow; he screamed piercingly, without drawing breath, like a torturedwoman; he banged with hands and feet. The agony of his fear wrung ourhearts so terribly that we longed to abandon him, to get out of thatplace deep as a well and swaying like a tree, to get out of his hearing, back on the poop where we could wait passively for death in incomparablerepose. We shouted to him to "shut up, for God's sake. " He redoubled hiscries. He must have fancied we could not hear him. Probably he heard hisown clamour but faintly. We could picture him crouching on the edge ofthe upper berth, letting out with both fists at the wood, in thedark, and with his mouth wide open for that unceasing cry. Those wereloathsome moments. A cloud driving across the sun would darken thedoorway menacingly. Every movement of the ship was pain. We scrambledabout with no room to breathe, and felt frightfully sick. The boatswainyelled down at us:--"Bear a hand! Bear a hand! We two will be washedaway from here directly if you ain't quick!" Three times a sea leapedover the high side and flung bucketfuls of water on our heads. ThenJimmy, startled by the shock, would stop his noise for a moment--waitingfor the ship to sink, perhaps--and began again, distressingly loud, asif invigorated by the gust of fear. At the bottom the nails lay in alayer several inches thick. It was ghastly. Every nail in the world, not driven in firmly somewhere, seemed to have found its way into thatcarpenter's shop. There they were, of all kinds, the remnants of storesfrom seven voyages. Tin-tacks, copper tacks (sharp as needles); pumpnails with big heads, like tiny iron mushrooms; nails without any heads(horrible); French nails polished and slim. They lay in a solid massmore inabordable than a hedgehog. We hesitated, yearning for a shovel, while Jimmy below us yelled as though he had been flayed. Groaning, we dug our fingers in, and very much hurt, shook our hands, scatteringnails and drops of blood. We passed up our hats full of assorted nailsto the boatswain, who, as if performing a mysterious and appeasing rite, cast them wide upon a raging sea. 

We got to the bulkhead at last. Those were stout planks. She was aship, well finished in every detail--the _Narcissus_ was. They were thestoutest planks ever put into a ship's bulkhead--we thought--and thenwe perceived that, in our hurry, we had sent all the tools overboard. Absurd little Belfast wanted to break it down with his own weight, andwith both feet leaped straight up like a springbok, cursing the Clydeshipwrights for not scamping their work. Incidentally he reviled allNorth Britain, the rest of the earth, the sea--and all his companions. He swore, as he alighted heavily on his heels, that he would never, never any more associate with any fool that "hadn't savee enough to knowhis knee from his elbow. " He managed by his thumping to scare thelast remnant of wits out of Jimmy. We could hear the object of ourexasperated solicitude darting to and fro under the planks. He hadcracked his voice at last, and could only squeak miserably. His backor else his head rubbed the planks, now here, now there, in a puzzlingmanner. He squeaked as he dodged the invisible blows. It was moreheartrending even than his yells. Suddenly Archie produced a crowbar. Hehad kept it back; also a small hatchet. We howled with satisfaction. He struck a mighty blow and small chips flew at our eyes. The boatswainabove shouted:--"Look out! Look out there. Don't kill the man. Easy doesit!" Wamibo, maddened with excitement, hung head down and insanely urgedus:--"Hoo! Strook'im! Hoo! Hoo!" We were afraid he would fall in andkill one of us and, hurriedly, we entreated the boatswain to "shovethe blamed Finn overboard. " Then, all together, we yelled down at theplanks:--"Stand from under! Get forward, " and listened. We only heardthe deep hum and moan of the wind above us, the mingled roar and hissof the seas. The ship, as if overcome with despair, wallowed lifelessly, and our heads swam with that unnatural motion. Belfast clamoured:--"Forthe love of God, Jimmy, where are ye?. .. Knock! Jimmy darlint!. .. Knock!You bloody black beast! Knock!" He was as quiet as a dead man insidea grave; and, like men standing above a grave, we were on the vergeof tears--but with vexation, the strain, the fatigue; with the greatlonging to be done with it, to get away, and lie down to rest somewherewhere we could see our danger and breathe. Archie shouted:--"Gi'e meroom!" We crouched behind him, guarding our heads, and he struck timeafter time in the joint of planks. They cracked. Suddenly the crowbarwent halfway in through a splintered oblong hole. It must have missedJimmy's head by less than an inch. Archie withdrew it quickly, and thatinfamous nigger rushed at the hole, put his lips to it, and whispered"Help" in an almost extinct voice; he pressed his head to it, tryingmadly to get out through that opening one inch wide and three incheslong. In our disturbed state we were absolutely paralysed by hisincredible action. It seemed impossible to drive him away. Even Archieat last lost his composure. "If ye don't clear oot I'll drive thecrowbar thro' your head, " he shouted in a determined voice. He meantwhat he said, and his earnestness seemed to make an impression on Jimmy. He disappeared suddenly, and we set to prising and tearing at the plankswith the eagerness of men trying to get at a mortal enemy, and spurredby the desire to tear him limb from limb. The wood split, cracked, gaveway. Belfast plunged in head and shoulders and groped viciously. "I'vegot 'im! Got 'im, " he shouted. "Oh! There!. .. He's gone; I've got'im!. .. Pull at my legs!. .. Pull!" Wamibo hooted unceasingly. Theboatswain shouted directions:--"Catch hold of his hair, Belfast; pullstraight up, you two!. .. Pull fair!" We pulled fair. We pulled Belfastout with a jerk, and dropped him with disgust. In a sitting posture, purple-faced, he sobbed despairingly:--"How can I hold on to 'isblooming short wool?" Suddenly Jimmy's head and shoulders appeared. Hestuck halfway, and with rolling eyes foamed at our feet. We flew at himwith brutal impatience, we tore the shirt off his back, we tugged at hisears, we panted over him; and all at once he came away in our hands asthough somebody had let go his legs. With the same movement, withouta pause, we swung him up. His breath whistled, he kicked our upturnedfaces, he grasped two pairs of arms above his head, and he squirmed upwith such precipitation that he seemed positively to escape from ourhands like a bladder full of gas. Streaming with perspiration, weswarmed up the rope, and, coming into the blast of cold wind, gaspedlike men plunged into icy water. With burning faces we shivered to thevery marrow of our bones. Never before had the gale seemed to us morefurious, the sea more mad, the sunshine more merciless and mocking, andthe position of the ship more hopeless and appalling. Every movement ofher was ominous of the end of her agony and of the beginning of ours. Westaggered away from the door, and, alarmed by a sudden roll, fell downin a bunch. It appeared to us that the side of the house was more smooththan glass and more slippery than ice. There was nothing to hang on tobut a long brass hook used sometimes to keep back an open door. Wamiboheld on to it and we held on to Wamibo, clutching our Jimmy. He hadcompletely collapsed now. He did not seem to have the strength to closehis hand. We stuck to him blindly in our fear. We were not afraid ofWamibo letting go (we remembered that the brute was stronger than anythree men in the ship), but we were afraid of the hook giving way, andwe also believed that the ship had made up her mind to turn overat last. But she didn't. A sea swept over us. The boatswainspluttered:--"Up and away. There's a lull. Away aft with you, or we willall go to the devil here. " We stood up surrounding Jimmy. We begged himto hold up, to hold on, at least. He glared with his bulging eyes, muteas a fish, and with all the stiffening knocked out of him. He wouldn'tstand; he wouldn't even as much as clutch at our necks; he was only acold black skin loosely stuffed with soft cotton wool; his arms and legsswung jointless and pliable; his head rolled about; the lower lip hungdown, enormous and heavy. We pressed round him, bothered and dismayed;sheltering him we swung here and there in a body; and on the verybrink of eternity we tottered all together with concealing and absurdgestures, like a lot of drunken men embarrassed with a stolen corpse. 

Something had to be done. We had to get him aft. A rope was tied slackunder his armpits, and, reaching up at the risk of our lives, wehung him on the fore-sheet cleet. He emitted no sound; he looked asridiculously lamentable as a doll that had lost half its sawdust, and westarted on our perilous journey over the main deck, dragging alongwith care that pitiful, that limp, that hateful burden. He was not veryheavy, but had he weighed a ton he could not have been more awkward tohandle. We literally passed him from hand to hand. Now and then we hadto hang him up on a handy belaying-pin, to draw a breath and reformthe line. Had the pin broken he would have irretrievably gone intothe Southern Ocean, but he had to take his chance of that; and after alittle while, becoming apparently aware of it, he groaned slightly, andwith a great effort whispered a few words. We listened eagerly. He wasreproaching us with our carelessness in letting him run such risks:"Now, after I got myself out from there, " he breathed out weakly. "There" was his cabin. And he got himself out. We had nothing to do withit apparently!. .. No matter. .. . We went on and let him take his chances, simply because we could not help it; for though at that time we hatedhim more than ever--more than anything under heaven--we did not want tolose him. We had so far saved him; and it had become a personalmatter between us and the sea. We meant to stick to him. Had we (by anincredible hypothesis) undergone similar toil and trouble for an emptycask, that cask would have become as precious to us as Jimmy was. Moreprecious, in fact, because we would have had no reason to hate the cask. And we hated James Wait. We could not get rid of the monstrous suspicionthat this astounding black-man was shamming sick, had been malingeringheartlessly in the face of our toil, of our scorn, of our patience--andnow was malingering in the face of our devotion--in the face of death. Our vague and imperfect morality rose with disgust at his unmanly lie. But he stuck to it manfully--amazingly. No! It couldn't be. He wasat all extremity. His cantankerous temper was only the result of theprovoking invincible-ness of that death he felt by his side. Any man maybe angry with such a masterful chum. But, then, what kind of men werewe--with our thoughts! Indignation and doubt grappled within us in ascuffle that trampled upon the finest of our feelings. And we hated himbecause of the suspicion; we detested him because of the doubt. We couldnot scorn him safely--neither could we pity him without risk to ourdignity. So we hated him and passed him carefully from hand to hand. Wecried, "Got him?"--"Yes. All right. Let go. "

And he swung from one enemy to another, showing about as much life as anold bolster would do. His eyes made two narrow white slits in the blackface. The air escaped through his lips with a noise like the soundof bellows. We reached the poop ladder at last, and it being acomparatively safe place, we lay for a moment in an exhausted heap torest a little. He began to mutter. We were always incurably anxious tohear what he had to say. This time he mumbled peevishly, "It took yousome time to come! I began to think the whole smart lot of you had beenwashed overboard. What kept you back? Hey? Funk?" We said nothing. Withsighs we started again to drag him up. The secret and ardent desire ofour hearts was the desire to beat him viciously with our fists aboutthe head; and we handled him as tenderly as though he had been made ofglass. .. . 

The return on the poop was like the return of wanderers after many yearsamongst people marked by the desolation of time. Eyes were turned slowlyin their sockets, glancing at us. Faint murmurs were heard, "Have yougot 'im after all?" The well-known faces looked strange and familiar;they seemed faded and grimy; they had a mingled expression of fatigueand eagerness. They seemed to have become much thinner during ourabsence, as if all these men had been starving for a long time in theirabandoned attitudes. The captain, with a round turn of a rope on hiswrist, and kneeling on one knee, swung with a face cold and stiff; butwith living eyes he was still holding the ship up, heeding no one, asif lost in the unearthly effort of that endeavour. We fastened up JamesWait in a safe place. Mr. Baker scrambled along to lend a hand. Mr. Creighton, on his back, and very pale, muttered, "Well done, " and gaveus, Jimmy and the sky, a scornful glance, then closed his eyes slowly. Here and there a man stirred a little, but most of them remainedapathetic, in cramped positions, muttering between shivers. The sun wassetting. A sun enormous, unclouded and red, declining low as if bendingdown to look into their faces. The wind whistled across long sunbeamsthat, resplendent and cold, struck full on the dilated pupils of staringeyes without making them wink. The wisps of hair and the tangled beardswere grey with the salt of the sea. The faces were earthy, and the darkpatches under the eyes extended to the ears, smudged into the hollows ofsunken cheeks. The lips were livid and thin, and when they moved itwas with difficulty, as though they had been glued to the teeth. Somegrinned sadly in the sunlight, shaking with cold. Others were sad andstill. Charley, subdued by the sudden disclosure of the insignificanceof his youth, darted fearful glances. The two smooth-faced Norwegiansresembled decrepit children, staring stupidly. To leeward, on the edgeof the horizon, black seas leaped up towards the glowing sun. It sankslowly, round and blazing, and the crests of waves splashed on the edgeof the luminous circle. One of the Norwegians appeared to catch sightof it, and, after giving a violent start, began to speak. His voice, startling the others, made them stir. They moved their heads stiffly, orturning with difficulty, looked at him with surprise, with fear, or ingrave silence. He chattered at the setting sun, nodding his head, whilethe big seas began to roll across the crimson disc; and over miles ofturbulent waters the shadows of high waves swept with a running darknessthe faces of men. A crested roller broke with a loud hissing roar, andthe sun, as if put out, disappeared. The chattering voice faltered, wentout together with the light. There were sighs. In the sudden lull thatfollows the crash of a broken sea a man said wearily, "Here's thatblooming Dutchman gone off his chump. " A seaman, lashed by the middle, tapped the deck with his open hand with unceasing quick flaps. In thegathering greyness of twilight a bulky form was seen rising aft, andbegan marching on all fours with the movements of some big cautiousbeast. It was Mr. Baker passing along the line of men. He gruntedencouragingly over every one, felt their fastenings. Some, withhalf-open eyes, puffed like men oppressed by heat; others mechanicallyand in dreamy voices answered him, "Aye! aye! sir!" He went from one toanother grunting, "Ough!. .. See her through it yet;" and unexpectedly, with loud angry outbursts, blew up Knowles for cutting off a longpiece from the fall of the relieving tackle. "Ough!------Ashamedof yourself------Relieving tackle------Don't you knowbetter!------Ough!------Able seaman! Ough!" The lame man was crushed. He muttered, "Get som'think for a lashing for myself, sir. "--"Ough!Lashing------yourself. Are you a tinker or a sailor------What?Ough!------May want that tackle directly------Ough!------More use tothe ship than your lame carcass. Ough!------Keep it!------Keep it, nowyou've done it. "

He crawled away slowly, muttering to himself about some men being "worsethan children. " It had been a comforting row. Low exclamations wereheard: "Hallo. .. Hallo. ". .. Those who had been painfully dozing askedwith convulsive starts, "What's up?. .. What is it?" The answers camewith unexpected cheerfulness: "The mate is going bald-headed for lameJack about something or other. " "No!". .. . "What 'as he done?" Some oneeven chuckled. It was like a whiff of hope, like a reminder of safedays. Donkin, who had been stupefied with fear, revived suddenly andbegan to shout:--"'Ear 'im; that's the way they tawlk to us. Vy donch'ee 'it 'im--one ov yer? 'It 'im. 'It 'im! Comin' the mate over us. We are as good men as 'ee! We're all goin' to 'ell now. We 'ave beenstarved in this rotten ship, an' now we're goin' to be drowned for themblack 'earted bullies! 'It 'im!" He shrieked in the deepening gloom, heblubbered and sobbed, screaming:--"'It 'im! 'It 'im!" The rage and fearof his disregarded right to live tried the steadfastness of heartsmore than the menacing shadows of the night that advanced through theunceasing clamour of the gale. From aft Mr. Baker was heard:--"Is oneof you men going to stop him--must I come along?" "Shut up!". .. "Keepquiet!" cried various voices, exasperated, trembling with cold. --"You'llget one across the mug from me directly, " said an invisible seaman, ina weary tone, "I won't let the mate have the trouble. " He ceased and laystill with the silence of despair. On the black sky the stars, comingout, gleamed over an inky sea that, speckled with foam, flashed back atthem the evanescent and pale light of a dazzling whiteness born from theblack turmoil of the waves. Remote in the eternal calm they glitteredhard and cold above the uproar of the earth; they surrounded thevanquished and tormented ship on all sides: more pitiless than the eyesof a triumphant mob, and as unapproachable as the hearts of men. 

The icy south wind howled exultingly under the sombre splendour of thesky. The cold shook the men with a resistless violence as though it hadtried to shake them to pieces. Short moans were swept unheard off thestiff lips. Some complained in mutters of "not feeling themselves belowthe waist;" while those who had closed their eyes, imagined they had ablock of ice on their chests. Others, alarmed at not feeling any painin their fingers, beat the deck feebly with their hands--obstinate andexhausted. Wamibo stared vacant and dreamy. The Scandinavians kept on ameaningless mutter through chattering teeth. The spare Scotchmen, withdetermined efforts, kept their lower jaws still. The West-country menlay big and stolid in an invulnerable surliness. A man yawned and sworein turns. Another breathed with a rattle in his throat. Two elderlyhard-weather shellbacks, fast side by side, whispered dismally to oneanother about the landlady of a boarding-house in Sunderland, whom theyboth knew. They extolled her motherliness and her liberality; theytried to talk about the joint of beef and the big fire in the downstairskitchen. The words dying faintly on their lips, ended in light sighs. A sudden voice cried into the cold night, "O Lord!" No one changedhis position or took any notice of the cry. One or two passed, with arepeated and vague gesture, their hand over their faces, but most ofthem kept very still. In the benumbed immobility of their bodies theywere excessively wearied by their thoughts, which rushed with therapidity and vividness of dreams. Now and then, by an abrupt andstartling exclamation, they answered the weird hail of some illusion;then, again, in silence contemplated the vision of known faces andfamiliar things. They recalled the aspect of forgotten shipmates andheard the voice of dead and gone skippers. They remembered the noise ofgaslit streets, the steamy heat of tap-rooms or the scorching sunshineof calm days at sea. 

Mr. Baker left his insecure place, and crawled, with stoppages, alongthe poop. In the dark and on all fours he resembled some carnivorousanimal prowling amongst corpses. At the break, propped to windward ofa stanchion, he looked down on the main deck. It seemed to him thatthe ship had a tendency to stand up a little more. The wind had easeda little, he thought, but the sea ran as high as ever. The waves foamedviciously, and the lee side of the deck disappeared under a hissingwhiteness as of boiling milk, while the rigging sang steadily with adeep vibrating note, and, at every upward swing of the ship, the windrushed with a long-drawn clamour amongst the spars. Mr. Baker watchedvery still. A man near him began to make a blabbing noise with hislips, all at once and very loud, as though the cold had broken brutallythrough him. He went on:--"Ba--ba--ba--brrr--brr--ba--ba. "--"Stop that!"cried Mr. Baker, groping in the dark. "Stop it!" He went on shaking theleg he found under his hand. --"What is it, sir?" called out Belfast, in the tone of a man awakened suddenly; "we are looking after that'ere Jimmy. "--"Are you? Ough! Don't make that row then. Who's that nearyou?"--"It's me--the boatswain, sir, " growled the West-country man;"we are trying to keep life in that poor devil. "--"Aye, aye!" said Mr. Baker. "Do it quietly, can't you?"--"He wants us to hold him up abovethe rail, " went on the boatswain, with irritation, "says he can'tbreathe here under our jackets. "--"If we lift 'im, we drop 'imoverboard, " said another voice, "we can't feel our hands with cold. "--"Idon't care. I am choking!" exclaimed James Wait in a clear tone. --"Oh, no, my son, " said the boatswain, desperately, "you don't go till weall go on this fine night. "--"You will see yet many a worse, " said Mr. Baker, cheerfully. --"It's no child's play, sir!" answered the boatswain. "Some of us further aft, here, are in a pretty bad way. "--"If the blamedsticks had been cut out of her she would be running along on her bottomnow like any decent ship, an' giv' us all a chance, " said some one, with a sigh. --"The old man wouldn't have it. .. Much he cares for us, "whispered another. --"Care for you!" exclaimed Mr. Baker, angrily. "Whyshould he care for you? Are you a lot of women passengers to be takencare of? We are here to take care of the ship--and some of you ain't upto that. Ough!. .. What have you done so very smart to be taken care of?Ough!. .. Some of you can't stand a bit of a breeze without crying overit. "--"Come, sorr. We ain't so bad, " protested Belfast, in a voiceshaken by shivers; "we ain't. .. Brr. .. "--"Again, " shouted the mate, grabbing at the shadowy form; "again!. .. Why, you're in your shirt! Whathave you done?"--"I've put my oilskin and jacket over that half-deadnayggur--and he says he chokes, " said Belfast, complainingly. --"Youwouldn't call me nigger if I wasn't half dead, you Irish beggar!" boomedJames Wait, vigorously. --"You. .. Brrr. .. You wouldn't be white if youwere ever so well. .. I will fight you. .. Brrrr. .. In fine weather. .. Brrr . .. With one hand tied behind my back. .. Brrrrrr. .. "--"I don't wantyour rags--I want air, " gasped out the other faintly, as if suddenlyexhausted. 

The sprays swept over whistling and pattering. Men disturbed in theirpeaceful torpor by the pain of quarrelsome shouts, moaned, mutteringcurses. Mr. Baker crawled off a little way to leeward where a water-caskloomed up big, with something white against it. "Is it you, Podmore?"asked Mr. Baker, He had to repeat the question twice before the cookturned, coughing feebly. --"Yes, sir. I've been praying in my mind fora quick deliverance; for I am prepared for any call. .. . I------"--"Lookhere, cook, " interrupted Mr. Baker, "the men are perishing withcold. "--"Cold!" said the cook, mournfully; "they will be warm enoughbefore long. "--"What?" asked Mr. Baker, looking along the deck into thefaint sheen of frothing water. --"They are a wicked lot, " continued thecook solemnly, but in an unsteady voice, "about as wicked as any ship'scompany in this sinful world! Now, I"--he trembled so that he couldhardly speak; his was an exposed place, and in a cotton shirt, a thinpair of trousers, and with his knees under his nose, he received, quaking, the flicks of stinging, salt drops; his voice soundedexhausted--"now. I--any time . .. My eldest youngster, Mr. Baker. . Aclever boy. .. Last Sunday on shore before this voyage he wouldn't go tochurch, sir. Says I, 'You go and clean yourself, or I'll know the reasonwhy!' What does he do?. .. Pond, Mr. Baker--fell into the pond in hisbest rig, sir!. .. Accident?. .. 'Nothing will save you, fine scholarthough you are!' says I. .. . Accident!. .. I whopped him, sir, tillI couldn't lift my arm. .. . " His voice faltered. "I whopped 'im!" herepeated, rattling his teeth; then, after a while, let out a mournfulsound that was half a groan, half a snore. Mr. Baker shook him by theshoulders. "Hey! Cook! Hold up, Podmore! Tell me--is there any freshwater in the galley tank? The ship is lying along less, I think; I wouldtry to get forward. A little water would do them good. Hallo! Look out!Look out!" The cook struggled. --"Not you, sir--not you!" He began toscramble to windward. "Galley!. .. My business!" he shouted. --"Cook'sgoing crazy now, " said several voices. He yelled:--"Crazy, am I? I ammore ready to die than any of you, officers incloosive--there! As longas she swims I will cook! I will get you coffee. "--"Cook, ye are agentleman!" cried Belfast. But the cook was already going over theweather-ladder. He stopped for a moment to shout back on the poop:--"Aslong as she swims I will cook!" and disappeared as though he had goneoverboard. The men who had heard sent after him a cheer that soundedlike a wail of sick children. An hour or more afterwards some onesaid distinctly: "He's gone for good. "--"Very likely, " assented theboatswain; "even in fine weather he was as smart about the deck as amilch-cow on her first voyage. We ought to go and see. " Nobody moved. Asthe hours dragged slowly through the darkness Mr. Baker crawled back andforth along the poop several times. Some men fancied they had heard himexchange murmurs with the master, but at that time the memories wereincomparably more vivid than anything actual, and they were not certainwhether the murmurs were heard now or many years ago. They did not tryto find out. A mutter more or less did not matter. It was too coldfor curiosity, and almost for hope. They could not spare a moment ora thought from the great mental occupation of wishing to live. And thedesire of life kept them alive, apathetic and enduring, under the cruelpersistence of wind and cold; while the bestarred black dome of the skyrevolved slowly above the ship, that drifted, bearing their patience andtheir suffering, through the stormy solitude of the sea. 

Huddled close to one another, they fancied themselves utterly alone. They heard sustained loud noises, and again bore the pain of existencethrough long hours of profound silence. In the night they saw sunshine, felt warmth, and suddenly, with a start, thought that the sun wouldnever rise upon a freezing world. Some heard laughter, listened tosongs; others, near the end of the poop, could hear loud human shrieks, and opening their eyes, were surprised to hear them still, though veryfaint, and far away. The boatswain said:--"Why, it's the cook, hailingfrom forward, I think. " He hardly believed his own words or recognisedhis own voice. It was a long time before the man next to him gave asign of life. He punched hard his other neighbour and said:--"The cook'sshouting!" Many did not understand, others did not care; the majorityfurther aft did not believe. But the boatswain and another man had thepluck to crawl away forward to see. They seemed to have been gone forhours, and were very soon forgotten. Then suddenly men who had beenplunged in a hopeless resignation became as if possessed with a desireto hurt. They belaboured one another with fists. In the darkness theystruck persistently anything soft they could feel near, and, with agreater effort than for a shout, whispered excitedly:--"They've got somehot coffee. .. . Boss'en got it. .. . " "No!. .. Where?". .. . "It's coming!Cook made it. " James Wait moaned. Donkin scrambled viciously, caring notwhere he kicked, and anxious that the officers should have none of it. It came in a pot, and they drank in turns. It was hot, and while itblistered the greedy palates, it seemed incredible. The men sighed outparting with the mug:--"How 'as he done it?" Some cried weakly:--"Bullyfor you, doctor!"

He had done it somehow. Afterwards Archie declared that the thingwas "meeraculous. " For many days we wondered, and it was the oneever-interesting subject of conversation to the end of the voyage. We asked the cook, in fine weather, how he felt when he saw his stove"reared up on end. " We inquired, in the north-east trade and on sereneevenings, whether he had to stand on his head to put things rightsomewhat. We suggested he had used his bread-board for a raft, and fromthere comfortably had stoked his grate; and we did our best to concealour admiration under the wit of fine irony. He affirmed not to knowanything about it, rebuked our levity, declared himself, with solemnanimation, to have been the object of a special mercy for the saving ofour unholy lives. Fundamentally he was right, no doubt; but he need nothave been so offensively positive about it--he need not have hintedso often that it would have gone hard with us had he not been there, meritorious and pure, to receive the inspiration and the strength forthe work of grace. Had we been saved by his recklessness or his agility, we could have at length become reconciled to the fact; but to admit ourobligation to anybody's virtue and holiness alone was as difficultfor us as for any other handful of mankind. Like many benefactors ofhumanity, the cook took himself too seriously, and reaped the reward ofirreverence. We were not un-ungrateful, however. He remained heroic. Hissaying--_the_ saying of his life--became proverbial in the mouth of menas are the sayings of conquerors or sages. Later, whenever one of uswas puzzled by a task and advised to relinquish it, he would express hisdetermination to persevere and to succeed by the words:--"As long as sheswims I will cook!"

The hot drink helped us through the bleak hours that precede the dawn. The sky low by the horizon took on the delicate tints of pink and yellowlike the inside of a rare shell. And higher, where it glowed with apearly sheen, a small black cloud appeared, like a forgotten fragment ofthe night set in a border of dazzling gold. The beams of light skippedon the crests of waves. The eyes of men turned to the eastward. Thesunlight flooded their weary faces. They were giving themselves up tofatigue as though they had done for ever with their work. On Singleton'sblack oilskin coat the dried salt glistened like hoar frost. He hungon by the wheel, with open and lifeless eyes. Captain Allistoun, unblinking, faced the rising sun. His lips stirred, opened for the firsttime in twenty-four hours, and with a fresh firm voice he cried, "Wearship!"

The commanding sharp tones made all these torpid men start like a suddenflick of a whip. Then again, motionless where they lay, the force ofhabit made some of them repeat the order in hardly audible murmurs. Captain Allistoun glanced down at his crew, and several, with fumblingfingers and hopeless movements, tried to cast themselves adrift. Herepeated impatiently, "Wear ship. Now then, Mr. Baker, get themen along. What's the matter with them?"--"Wear ship. Do you hearthere?--Wear ship!" thundered out the boatswain suddenly. His voiceseemed to break through a deadly spell. Men began to stir and crawl. --"Iwant the fore-top-mast staysail run up smartly, " said the master, very loudly; "if you can't manage it standing up you must do it lyingdown--that's all. Bear a hand!"--"Come along! Let's give the old girla chance, " urged the boatswain. --"Aye! aye! Wear ship!" exclaimedquavering voices. The forecastle men, with reluctant faces, prepared togo forward. Mr. Baker pushed ahead, grunting, on all fours to show theway, and they followed him over the break. The others lay still with avile hope in their hearts of not being required to move till they gotsaved or drowned in peace. 

After some time they could be seen forward appearing on the forecastlehead, one by one in unsafe attitudes; hanging on to the rails, clambering over the anchors; embracing the cross-head of the windlassor hugging the fore-capstan. They were restless with strange exertions, waved their arms, knelt, lay flat down, staggered up, seemed to strivetheir hardest to go overboard. Suddenly a small white piece of canvasfluttered amongst them, grew larger, beating. Its narrow head rosein jerks--and at last it stood distended and triangular in thesunshine. --"They have done it!" cried the voices aft. Captain Allistounlet go the rope he had round his wrist and rolled to leeward headlong. He could be seen casting the lee main braces off the pins while thebackwash of waves splashed over him. --"Square the main yard!" he shoutedup to us--who stared at him in wonder. We hesitated to stir. "Themain brace, men. Haul! haul anyhow! Lay on your backs and haul!" hescreeched, half drowned down there. We did not believe we could move themain yard, but the strongest and the less discouraged tried to executethe order. Others assisted half-heartedly. Singleton's eyes blazedsuddenly as he took a fresh grip of the spokes. Captain Allistoun foughthis way up to windward. --"Haul, men! Try to move it! Haul, and help theship. " His hard face worked suffused and furious. "Is she going off, Singleton?" he cried. --"Not a move yet, sir, " croaked the old seaman ina horribly hoarse voice. --"Watch the helm, Singleton, " spluttered themaster. "Haul, men! Have you no more strength than rats? Haul, and earnyour salt. " Mr. Creigh-ton, on his back, with a swollen leg and aface as white as a piece of paper, blinked his eyes; his bluish lipstwitched. In the wild scramble men grabbed at him, crawled over hishurt leg, knelt on his chest. He kept perfectly still, setting his teethwithout a moan, without a sigh. The master's ardour, the cries of thatsilent man inspired us. We hauled and hung in bunches on the rope. Weheard him say with violence to Donkin, who sprawled abjectly on hisstomach, --"I will brain you with this belaying pin if you don't catchhold of the brace, " and that victim of men's injustice, cowardly andcheeky, whimpered:--"Are you goin' to murder us now?" while with suddendesperation he gripped the rope. Men sighed, shouted, hissed meaninglesswords, groaned. The yards moved, came slowly square against thewind, that hummed loudly on the yard-arms. --"Going off, sir, " shoutedSingleton, "she's just started. "--"Catch a turn with that brace. Catch aturn!" clamoured the master. Mr. Creighton, nearly suffocated and unableto move, made a mighty effort, and with his left hand managed to nip therope. 

--"All fast!" cried some one. He closed his eyes as if going off intoa swoon, while huddled together about the brace we watched with scaredlooks what the ship would do now. 

She went off slowly as though she had been weary and disheartened likethe men she carried. She paid off very gradually, making us hold ourbreath till we choked, and as soon as she had brought the wind abaft thebeam she started to move, and fluttered our hearts. It was awful to seeher, nearly overturned, begin to gather way and drag her submerged sidethrough the water. The dead-eyes of the rigging churned the breakingseas. The lower half of the deck was full of mad whirlpools and eddies;and the long line of the lee rail could be seen showing black now andthen in the swirls of a field of foam as dazzling and white as a fieldof snow. The wind sang shrilly amongst the spars; and at every slightlurch we expected her to slip to the bottom sideways from under ourbacks. When dead before it she made the first distinct attempt to standup, and we encouraged her with a feeble and discordant howl. A great seacame running up aft and hung for a moment over us with a curling top;then crashed down under the counter and spread out on both sides intoa great sheet of bursting froth. Above its fierce hiss we heardSingleton's croak:--"She is steering!" He had both his feet nowplanted firmly on the grating, and the wheel spun fast as he eased thehelm. --"Bring the wind on the port quarter and steady her!" called outthe master, staggering to his feet, the first man up from amongst ourprostrate heap. One or two screamed with excitement:--"She rises!" Faraway forward, Mr. Baker and three others were seen erect and black onthe clear sky, lifting their arms, and with open mouths as though theyhad been shouting all together. The ship trembled, trying to lift herside, lurched back, seemed to give up with a nerveless dip, and suddenlywith an unexpected jerk swung violently to windward, as though she hadtorn herself out from a deadly grasp. The whole immense volume of water, lifted by her deck, was thrown bodily across to starboard. Loud crackswere heard. Iron ports breaking open thundered with ringing blows. Thewater topped over the starboard rail with the rush of a river fallingover a dam. The sea on deck, and the seas on every side of her, mingledtogether in a deafening roar. She rolled violently. We got up and werehelplessly run or flung about from side to side. Men, rolling over andover, yelled, --"The house will go!"--"She clears herself!" Lifted by atowering sea she ran along with it for a moment, spouting thick streamsof water through every opening of her wounded sides. The lee braceshaving been carried away or washed off the pins, all the ponderous yardson the fore swung from side to side and with appalling rapidity at everyroll. The men forward were seen crouching here and there with fearfulglances upwards at the enormous spars that whirled about over theirheads. The torn canvas and the ends of broken gear streamed in thewind like wisps of hair. Through the clear sunshine, over the flashingturmoil and uproar of the seas, the ship ran blindly, dishevelledand headlong, as if fleeing for her life; and on the poop we spun, wetottered about, distracted and noisy. We all spoke at once in a thinbabble; we had the aspect of invalids and the gestures of maniacs. Eyesshone, large and haggard, in smiling, meagre faces that seemed to havebeen dusted over with powdered chalk. We stamped, clapped our hands, feeling ready to jump and do anything; but in reality hardly able tokeep on our feet. 

Captain Allistoun, hard and slim, gesticulated madly from the poop atMr. Baker: "Steady these fore-yards! Steady them the best you can!" Onthe main deck, men excited by his cries, splashed, dashing aimlessly, here and there with the foam swirling up to their waists. Apart, faraft, and alone by the helm, old Singleton had deliberately tucked hiswhite beard under the top button of his glistening coat. Swaying uponthe din and tumult of the seas, with the whole battered length of theship launched forward in a rolling rush before his steady old eyes, hestood rigidly still, forgotten by all, and with an attentive face. Infront of his erect figure only the two arms moved crosswise with a swiftand sudden readiness, to check or urge again the rapid stir of circlingspokes. He steered with care. 

CHAPTER FOUR

On men reprieved by its disdainful mercy, the immortal sea confers inits justice the full privilege of desired unrest. Through the perfectwisdom of its grace they are not permitted to meditate at ease uponthe complicated and acrid savour of existence. They must without pausejustify their life to the eternal pity that commands toil to be hardand unceasing, from sunrise to sunset, from sunset to sunrise; till theweary succession of nights and days tainted by the obstinate clamour ofsages, demanding bliss and an empty heaven, is redeemed at last by thevast silence of pain and labour, by the dumb fear and the dumb courageof men obscure, forgetful, and enduring. 

The master and Mr. Baker coming face to face stared for a moment, withthe intense and amazed looks of men meeting unexpectedly after years oftrouble. Their voices were gone, and they whispered desperately atone another. --"Any one missing?" asked Captain Allistoun. --"No. Allthere. "--"Anybody hurt?"--"Only the second mate. "--"I will look afterhim directly. We're lucky. "--"Very, " articulated Mr. Baker, faintly. Hegripped the rail and rolled bloodshot eyes. The little grey man made aneffort to raise his voice above a dull mutter, and fixed his chief matewith a cold gaze, piercing like a dart. --"Get sail on the ship, " hesaid, speaking authoritatively and with an inflexible snap of his thinlips. "Get sail on her as soon as you can. This is a fair wind. At once, sir--Don't give the men time to feel themselves. They will get done upand stiff, and we will never. .. We must get her along now". .. He reeledto a long heavy roll; the rail dipped into the glancing, hissing water. He caught a shroud, swung helplessly against the mate. .. "now we have afair wind at last------Make------sail. " His head rolled from shoulder toshoulder. His eyelids began to beat rapidly. "And the pumps------pumps, Mr. Baker. " He peered as though the face within a foot of his eyeshad been half a mile off. "Keep the men on the move to------to get heralong, " he mumbled in a drowsy tone, like a man going off into a doze. He pulled himself together suddenly. "Mustn't stand. Won't do, " he saidwith a painful attempt at a smile. He let go his hold, and, propelledby the dip of the ship, ran aft unwillingly, with small steps, till hebrought up against the binnacle stand. Hanging on there he looked up inan aimless manner at Singleton, who, unheeding him, watched anxiouslythe end of the jib-boom--"Steering gear works all right?" he asked. There was a noise in the old seaman's throat, as though the words hadbeen rattling together before they could come out. --"Steers. .. Like alittle boat, " he said, at last, with hoarse tenderness, without givingthe master as much as half a glance--then, watchfully, spun the wheeldown, steadied, flung it back again. Captain Allistoun tore himself awayfrom the delight of leaning against the binnacle, and began to walk thepoop, swaying and reeling to preserve his balance. .. . 

The pump-rods, clanking, stamped in short jumps while the fly-wheelsturned smoothly, with great speed, at the foot of the mainmast, flingingback and forth with a regular impetuosity two limp clusters of menclinging to the handles. They abandoned themselves, swaying from the hipwith twitching faces and stony eyes. The carpenter, sounding from timeto time, exclaimed mechanically: "Shake her up! Keep her going!" Mr. Baker could not speak, but found his voice to shout; and under the goadof his objurgations, men looked to the lashings, dragged out newsails; and thinking themselves unable to move, carried heavy blocksaloft--overhauled the gear. They went up the rigging with faltering anddesperate efforts. Their heads swam as they shifted their hold, steppedblindly on the yards like men in the dark; or trusted themselves to thefirst rope at hand with the negligence of exhausted strength. The narrowescapes from falls did not disturb the languid beat of their hearts; theroar of the seas seething far below them sounded continuous and faintlike an indistinct noise from another world: the wind filled their eyeswith tears, and with heavy gusts tried to push them off from where theyswayed in insecure positions. With streaming faces and blowing hairthey flew up and down between sky and water, bestriding the ends ofyard-arms, crouching on foot-ropes, embracing lifts to have their handsfree, or standing up against chain ties. Their thoughts floated vaguelybetween the desire of rest and the desire of life, while their stiffenedfingers cast off head-earrings, fumbled for knives, or held withtenacious grip against the violent shocks of beating canvas. They glaredsavagely at one another, made frantic signs with one hand while theyheld their life in the other, looked down on the narrow strip of floodeddeck, shouted along to leeward: "Light-to!". .. "Haul out!". .. "Makefast!" Their lips moved, their eyes started, furious and eager with thedesire to be understood, but the wind tossed their words unheard uponthe disturbed sea. In an unendurable and unending strain they workedlike men driven by a merciless dream to toil in an atmosphere of ice orflame. They burnt and shivered in turns. Their eyeballs smarted as ifin the smoke of a conflagration; their heads were ready to' burst withevery shout. Hard fingers seemed to grip their throats. At every rollthey thought: Now I must let go. It will shake us all off--and thrownabout aloft they cried wildly: "Look out there--catch the end. ". .. "Reeve clear". .. "Turn this block. .. . " They nodded desperately; shookinfuriated faces, "No! No! From down up. " They seemed to hate oneanother with a deadly hate, The longing to be done with it all gnawedtheir breasts, and the wish to do things well was a burning pain. Theycursed their fate, contemned their life, and wasted their breath indeadly imprecations upon one another. ' The sailmaker, with his bald headbared, worked feverishly, forgetting his intimacy with so many admirals. The boatswain, climbing up with marlinspikes and bunches of spunyarnrovings, or kneeling on the yard and ready to take a turn with themidship-stop, had acute and fleeting visions of his old woman and theyoungsters in a moorland village. Mr. Baker, feeling very weak, totteredhere and there, grunting and inflexible, like a man of iron. He waylaidthose who, coming from aloft, stood gasping for breath. He ordered, encouraged, scolded. "Now then--to the main topsail now! Tally on tothat gantline. Don't stand about there!"--"Is there no rest for us?"muttered voices. He spun round fiercely, with a sinking heart. --"No! Norest till the work is done. Work till you drop. That's what you're herefor. " A bowed seaman at his elbow gave a short laugh. --"Do or die, "he croaked bitterly, then spat into his broad palms, swung up his longarms, and grasping the rope high above his head sent out a mournful, wailing cry for a pull all together. A sea boarded the quarter-deckand sent the whole lot sprawling to leeward. Caps, handspikes floated. Clenched hands, kicking legs, with here and there a spluttering face, stuck out of the white hiss of foaming water. Mr. Baker, knocked downwith the rest, screamed--"Don't let go that rope! Hold on to it! Hold!"And sorely bruised by the brutal fling, they held on to it, as though ithad been the fortune of their life. The ship ran, rolling heavily, andthe topping crests glanced past port and starboard flashing theirwhite heads. Pumps were freed. Braces were rove. The three topsailsand foresail were set. She spurted faster over the water, outpacing theswift rush of waves. The menacing thunder of distanced seas rose behindher--filled the air with the tremendous vibrations of its voice. Anddevastated, battered, and wounded she drove foaming to the northward, asthough inspired by the courage of a high endeavour. .. . 

The forecastle was a place of damp desolation. They looked at theirdwelling with dismay. It was slimy, dripping; it hummed hollow with thewind, and was strewn with shapeless wreckage like a half-tide cavern ina rocky and exposed coast. Many had lost all they had in the world, butmost of the starboard watch had preserved their chests; thin streams ofwater trickled out of them, however. The beds were soaked; the blanketsspread out and saved by some nail squashed under foot. They dragged wetrags from evil-smelling corners, and wringing the water out, recognisedtheir property. Some smiled stiffly. Others looked round blank and mute. There were cries of joy over old waistcoats, and groans of sorrow overshapeless things found among the splinters of smashed bed boards. Onelamp was discovered jammed under the bowsprit. Charley whimpered alittle. Knowles stumped here and there, sniffing, examining dark placesfor salvage. He poured dirty water out of a boot, and was concernedto find the owner. Those who, overwhelmed by their losses, sat on theforepeak hatch, remained elbows on knees, and, with a fist against eachcheek, disdained to look up. He pushed it under their noses. "Here'sa good boot. Yours?" They snarled, "No--get out. " One snapped at him, "Take it to hell out of this. " He seemed surprised. "Why? It's a goodboot, " but remembering suddenly that he had lost every stitch of hisclothing, he dropped his find and began to swear. In the dim lightcursing voices clashed. A man came in and, dropping his arms, stoodstill, repeating from the doorstep, "Here's a bloomin' old go! Here's abloomin' old go!" A few rooted anxiously in flooded chests for tobacco. They breathed hard, clamoured with heads down. "Look at that Jack!". .. "Here! Sam! Here's my shore-going rig spoilt for ever. " One blasphemedtearfully, holding up a pair of dripping trousers. No one looked at him. The cat came out from somewhere. He had an ovation. They snatched himfrom hand to hand, caressed him in a murmur of pet names. They wonderedwhere he had "weathered it out;" disputed about it. A squabblingargument began. Two men brought in a bucket of fresh water, and allcrowded round it; but Tom, lean and mewing, came up with every hairastir and had the first drink. A couple of hands went aft for oil andbiscuits. 

Then in the yellow light and in the intervals of mopping the deck theycrunched hard bread, arranging to "worry through somehow. " Men chummedas to beds. Turns were settled for wearing boots and having the use ofoilskin coats. They called one another "old man" and "sonny" in cheeryvoices. Friendly slaps resounded. Jokes were shouted. One or twostretched on the wet deck, slept with heads pillowed on their bent arms, and several, sitting on the hatch, smoked. Their weary faces appearedthrough a thin blue haze, pacified and with sparkling eyes. Theboatswain put his head through the door. "Relieve the wheel, one ofyou"--he shouted inside--"it's six. Blamme if that old Singleton hasn'tbeen there more'n thirty hours. You are a fine lot. " He slammed the dooragain. "Mate's watch on deck, " said some one. "Hey, Donkin, it's yourrelief!" shouted three or four together. He had crawled into an emptybunk and on wet planks lay still. "Donkin, your wheel. " He made nosound. "Donkin's dead, " guffawed some one, "Sell 'is bloomin' clothes, "shouted another. "Donkin, if ye don't go to the bloomin' wheel they willsell your clothes--d'ye hear?" jeered a third. He groaned from hisdark hole. He complained about pains in all his bones, he whimperedpitifully. "He won't go, " exclaimed a contemptuous voice, "your turn, Davis. " The young seaman rose painfully, squaring his shoulders. Donkinstuck his head out, and it appeared in the yellow light, fragileand ghastly. "I will giv' yer a pound of tobaccer, " he whined in aconciliating voice, "so soon as I draw it from aft. I will--s'elp me. .. "Davis swung his arm backhanded and the head vanished. "I'll go, " hesaid, "but you will pay for it. " He walked unsteady but resolute tothe door. "So I will, " yelped Donkin, popping out behind him. "So Iwill--s'elp me. .. A pound. .. Three bob they chawrge. " Davis flung thedoor open. "You will pay my price. .. In fine weather, " he shouted overhis shoulder. One of the men unbuttoned his wet coat rapidly, threw itat his head. "Here, Taffy--take that, you thief!" "Thank you!" he criedfrom the darkness above the swish of rolling water. He could be heardsplashing; a sea carme on board with a thump. "He's got his bathalready, " remarked a grim shellback. "Aye, aye!" grunted others. Then, after a long silence, Wamibo made strange noises. "Hallo, what's up withyou?" said some one grumpily. "He says he would have gone for Davy, "explained Archie, who was the Finn's interpreter generally. "I believehim!" cried voices. .. . "Never mind, Dutchy. .. You'll do, muddle-head. .. . Your turn will come soon enough. .. You don't know when ye're well off. "They ceased, and all together turned their faces to the door. Singletonstepped in, advanced two paces, and stood swaying slightly. The seahissed, flowed roaring past the bows, and the forecastle trembled, fullof deep murmurs; the lamp flared, swinging like a pendulum. He lookedwith a dreamy and puzzled stare, as though he could not distinguishthe still men from their restless shadows. There were awestruckexclamations:--"Hallo, hallo". .. "How does it look outside now, Singleton?" Those who sat on the hatch lifted their eyes in silence, andthe next oldest seaman in the ship (those two understood one another, though they hardly exchanged three words in a day) gazed up at hisfriend attentively for a moment, then taking a short clay pipe out ofhis mouth, offered it without a word. Singleton put out his arm towardsit, missed, staggered, and suddenly fell forward, crashing down, stiffand headlong like an uprooted tree. There was a swift rush. Men pushed, crying:--"He's done!". .. "Turn him over!". .. "Stand clear there!" Undera crowd of startled faces bending over him he lay on his back, staringupwards in a continuous and intolerable manner. In the breathlesssilence of a general consternation, he said in a grating murmur:--"I amall right, " and clutched with his hands. They helped him up. He mumbleddespondently:--"I am getting old. .. Old. "--"Not you, " cried Belfast, with ready tact. Supported on all sides, he hung his head. --"Are youbetter?" they asked. He glared at them from under his eyebrows withlarge black eyes, spreading over his chest the bushy whiteness of abeard long and thick. --"Old! old!" he repeated sternly. Helped along, he reached his bunk. There was in it a slimy soft heap of something thatsmelt, as does at dead low water a muddy foreshore. It was his soakedstraw bed. With a convulsive effort he pitched himself on it, and in thedarkness of the narrow place could be heard growling angrily, like anirritated and savage animal uneasy in its den:--"Bit of breeze. .. Small thing. .. Can't stand up. .. Old!" He slept at last, high-booted, sou'wester on head, and his oilskin clothes rustled, when with adeep sighing groan he turned over. Men conversed about him in quiet, concerned whispers. "This will break'im up". .. "Strong as a horse". .. "Aye. But he ain't what he used to be. " In sad murmurs they gave him up. Yet at midnight he turned out to duty as if nothing had been the matter, and answered to his name with a mournful "Here!" He brooded alone morethan ever, in an impenetrable silence and with a saddened face. Formany years he had heard himself called "Old Singleton, " and had serenelyaccepted the qualification, taking it as a tribute of respect due toa man who through half a century had measured his strength against thefavours and the rages of the sea. He had never given a thought to hismortal self. He lived unscathed, as though he had been indestructible, surrendering to all the temptations, weathering many gales. He hadpanted in sunshine, shivered in the cold; suffered hunger, thirst, debauch; passed through many trials--known all the furies. Old! Itseemed to him he was broken at last. And like a man bound treacherouslywhile he sleeps, he woke up fettered by the long chain of disregardedyears. He had to take up at once the burden of all his existence, andfound it almost too heavy for his strength. Old! He moved his arms, shook his head, felt his limbs. Getting old. .. And then? He lookedupon the immortal sea with the awakened and groping perception ofits heartless might; he saw it unchanged, black and foaming under theeternal scrutiny of the stars; he heard its impatient voice callingfor him out of a pitiless vastness full of unrest, of turmoil, and ofterror. He looked afar upon it, and he saw an immensity tormented andblind, moaning and furious, that claimed all the days of his tenaciouslife, and, when life was over, would claim the worn-out body of itsslave. .. . 

This was the last of the breeze. It veered quickly, changed to a blacksouth-easter, and blew itself out, giving the ship a famous shove to thenorthward into the joyous sunshine of the trade. Rapid and white she ranhomewards in a straight path, under a blue sky and upon the plain of ablue sea. She carried Singleton's completed wisdom, Donkin's delicatesusceptibilities, and the conceited folly of us all. The hours ofineffective turmoil were forgotten; the fear and anguish of these darkmoments were never mentioned in the glowing peace of fine days. Yet fromthat time our life seemed to start afresh as though we had died and hadbeen resuscitated. All the first part of the voyage, the Indian Oceanon the other side of the Cape, all that was lost in a haze, like anineradicable suspicion of some previous existence. It had ended--thenthere were blank hours: a livid blurr--and again we lived! Singleton waspossessed of sinister truth; Mr. Creighton of a damaged leg; the cook offame--and shamefully abused the opportunities of his distinction. Donkinhad an added grievance. He went about repeating with insistence:--"'Esaid 'e would brain me--did yer 'ear? They are goin' to murder us nowfor the least little thing. " We began at last to think it was ratherawful. And we were conceited! We boasted of our pluck, of our capacityfor work, of our energy. We remembered honourable episodes: ourdevotion, our indomitable perseverance--and were proud of them as thoughthey had been the outcome of our unaided impulses. We remembered ourdanger, our toil--and conveniently forgot our horrible scare. We decriedour officers--who had done nothing--and listened to the fascinatingDonkin. His care for our rights, his disinterested concern for ourdignity, were not discouraged by the invariable contumely of our words, by the disdain of our looks. Our contempt for him was unbounded--and wecould not but listen with interest to that consummate artist. He toldus we were good men--a "bloomin' condemned lot of good men. " Who thankedus? Who took any notice of our wrongs? Didn't we lead a "dorg's loifefor two poun' ten a month?" Did we think that miserable pay enoughto compensate us for the risk to our lives and for the loss of ourclothes? "We've lost every rag!" he cried. He made us forget that he, at any rate, had lost nothing of his own. The younger men listened, thinking--this 'ere Donkin's a long-headed chap, though no kind of man, anyhow. The Scandinavians were frightened at his audacities; Wamibo didnot understand; and the older seamen thoughtfully nodded their headsmaking the thin gold earrings glitter in the fleshy lobes of hairy ears. Severe, sunburnt faces were propped meditatively on tattooed forearms. Veined, brown fists held in their knotted grip the dirty white clay ofsmouldering pipes. They listened, impenetrable, broad-backed, with bentshoulders, and in grim silence. He talked with ardour, despised andirrefutable. His picturesque and filthy loquacity flowed like a troubledstream from a poisoned source. His beady little eyes danced, glancingright and left, ever on the watch for the approach of an officer. Sometimes Mr. Baker going forward to take a look at the head sheetswould roll with his uncouth gait through the sudden stillness of themen; or Mr. Creighton limped along, smooth-faced, youthful, and morestern than ever, piercing our short silence with a keen glance of hisclear eyes. Behind his back Donkin would begin again darting stealthy, sidelong looks. --"'Ere's one of 'em. Some of yer 'as made 'im fastthat day. Much thanks yer got for it. Ain't 'ee a-drivin' yer wusse'never?. .. Let 'im slip overboard. .. . Vy not? It would 'ave been lesstrouble. Vy not?" He advanced confidentially, backed away with greateffect; he whispered, he screamed, waved his miserable arms no thickerthan pipe-stems--stretched his lean neck--spluttered squinted. In thepauses of his impassioned orations the wind sighed quietly aloft, thecalm sea unheeded murmured in a warning whisper along the ship's side. We abominated the creature and could not deny the luminous truth of hiscontentions. It was all so obvious. We were indubitably good men; ourdeserts were great and our pay small. Through our exertions we had savedthe ship and the skipper would get the credit of it. What had he done?we wanted to know. Donkin asked:--"What 'ee could do without hus?" andwe could not answer. We were oppressed by the injustice of the world, surprised to perceive how long we had lived under its burden withoutrealising our unfortunate state, annoyed by the uneasy suspicion ofour undiscerning stupidity. Donkin assured us it was all our "good'eartedness, " but we would not be consoled by such shallow sophistry. We were men enough to courageously admit to ourselves our intellectualshortcomings; though from that time we refrained from kicking him, tweaking his nose, or from accidentally knocking him about, which last, after we had weathered the Cape, had been rather a popular amusement. Davis ceased to talk at him provokingly about black eyes and flattenednoses. Charley, much subdued since the gale, did not jeer at him. Knowles deferentially and with a crafty air propounded questions suchas:--"Could we all have the same grub as the mates? Could we all stopashore till we got it? What would be the next thing to try for if we gotthat?" He answered readily with contemptuous certitude; he strutted withassurance in clothes that were much too big for him as though he hadtried to disguise himself. These were Jimmy's clothes mostly--thoughhe would accept anything from anybody; but nobody, except Jimmy, hadanything to spare. His devotion to Jimmy was unbounded. He was for everdodging in the little cabin, ministering to Jimmy's wants, humouring hiswhims, submitting to his exacting peevishness, often laughing with him. Nothing could keep him away from the pious work of visiting the sick, especially when there was some heavy hauling to be done on deck. Mr. Baker had on two occasions jerked him out from there by the scruffof the neck to our inexpressible scandal. Was a sick chap to beleft without attendance? Were we to be ill-used for attending ashipmate?--"What?" growled Mr. Baker, turning menacingly at the mutter, and the whole half-circle like one man stepped back a pace. "Set thetopmast stunsail. Away aloft, Donkin, overhaul the gear, " ordered themate inflexibly. "Fetch the sail along; bend the down-haul clear. Beara hand. " Then, the sail set, he would go slowly aft and stand looking atthe compass for a long time, careworn, pensive, and breathing hard as ifstifled by the taint of unaccountable ill-will that pervaded the ship. "What's up amongst them?" he thought. "Can't make out this hanging backand growling. A good crowd, too, as they go nowadays. " On deck themen exchanged bitter words, suggested by a silly exasperation againstsomething unjust and irremediable that would not be denied, and wouldwhisper into their ears long after Donkin had ceased speaking. Our little world went on its curved and unswerving path carrying adiscontented and aspiring population. They found comfort of agloomy kind in an interminable and conscientious analysis of theirunappreciated worth; and inspired by Donkin's hopeful doctrines theydreamed enthusiastically of the time when every lonely ship would travelover a serene sea, manned by a wealthy and well-fed crew of satisfiedskippers. 

It looked-as if it would be a long passage. The south-east trades, lightand unsteady, were left behind; and then, on the equator and under alow grey sky, the ship, in close heat, floated upon a smooth sea thatresembled a sheet of ground glass. Thunder squalls hung on the horizon, circled round the ship, far off and growling angrily, like a troop ofwild beasts afraid to charge home. The invisible sun, sweeping above theupright masts, made on the clouds a blurred stain of rayless light, anda similar patch of faded radiance kept pace with it from east towest over the unglittering level of the waters. At night, through theimpenetrable darkness of earth and, heaven, broad sheets of flame wavednoiselessly; and for half a second the becalmed craft stood out with itsmasts and rigging, with every sail and every rope distinct and black inthe centre of a fiery outburst, like a charred ship enclosed in a globeof fire. And, again, for long hours she remained lost in a vast universeof night and silence where gentle sighs wandering here and there likeforlorn souls, made the still sails flutter as in sudden fear, and theripple of a beshrouded ocean whisper its compassion afar--in a voicemournful, immense, and faint. .. . 

When the lamp was put out, and through the door thrown wide open, Jimmy, turning on his pillow, could see vanishing beyond the straight line oftop-gallant rail, the quick, repeated visions of a fabulous world madeup of leaping fire and sleeping water. The lightning gleamed in hisbig sad eyes that seemed in a red flicker to burn themselves out in hisblack face, and then he would lie blinded and invisible in the midst ofan intense darkness. He could hear on the quiet deck soft footfalls, thebreathing of some man lounging on the doorstep; the low creak of swayingmasts; or the calm voice of the watch-officer reverberating aloft, hardand loud, amongst the unstirring sails. He listened with avidity, takinga rest in the attentive perception of the slightest sound from thefatiguing wanderings of his sleeplessness. He was cheered by therattling of blocks, reassured by the stir and murmur of the watch, soothed by the slow yawn of some sleepy and weary seaman settlinghimself deliberately for a snooze on the planks. Life seemed anindestructible thing. It went on in darkness, in sunshine, in sleep;tireless, it hovered affectionately round the imposture of his readydeath. It was bright, like the twisted flare of lightning, and more fullof surprises than the dark night. It made him safe, and the calm ofits overpowering darkness was as precious as its restless and dangerouslight. 

But in the evening, in the dog-watches, and even far into the firstnight-watch, a knot of men could always be seen congregated beforeJimmy's cabin. They leaned on each side of the door peacefullyinterested and with crossed legs; they stood astride the doorstepdiscoursing, or sat in silent couples on his sea-chest; while againstthe bulwark along the spare topmast, three or four in a row staredmeditatively; with their simple faces lit up by the projected glare ofJimmy's lamp. The little place, repainted white, had, in the night, the brilliance of a silver shrine where a black idol, reclining stifflyunder a blanket, blinked its weary eyes and received our homage. Donkinofficiated. He had the air of a demonstrator showing a phenomenon, amanifestation bizarre, simple, and meritorious that, to the beholders, should be a profound and an everlasting lesson. "Just look at 'im, 'eeknows what's what--never fear!" he exclaimed now and then, flourishinga hand hard and fleshless like the claw of a snipe. Jimmy, on his back, smiled with reserve and without moving a limb. He affected the languorof extreme weakness, so as to make it manifest to us that our delay inhauling him out from his horrible confinement, and then that night spenton the poop among our selfish neglect of his needs, had "done forhim. " He rather liked to talk about it, and of course we were alwaysinterested. He spoke spasmodically, in fast rushes with long pausesbetween, as a tipsy man walks. .. . "Cook had just given me a pannikinof hot coffee. .. . Slapped it down there, on my chest--banged the doorto. .. . I felt a heavy roll coming; tried to save my coffee, burnt myfingers. .. And fell out of my bunk. .. . She went over so quick. .. . Watercame in through the ventilator. .. . I couldn't move the door. .. Dark as agrave. .. Tried to scramble up into the upper berth. .. . Rats. .. A ratbit my finger as I got up. .. . I could hear him swimming below me. .. . Ithought you would never come. .. I thought you were all gone overboard. .. Of course. .. Could hear nothing but the wind. .. . Then you came. .. Tolook for the corpse, I suppose. A little more and. .. "

"Man! But ye made a rare lot of noise in here, " observed Archie, thoughtfully. 

"You chaps kicked up such a confounded row above. .. . Enough to scareany one. .. . I didn't know what you were up to. .. . Bash in the blamedplanks. .. My head. .. . Just what a silly, scary gang of fools woulddo. .. . Not much good to me anyhow. .. . Just as well. .. Drown. .. . Pah. "

He groaned, snapped his big white teeth, and gazed with scorn. Belfastlifted a pair of dolorous eyes, with a broken-hearted smile, clenchedhis fists stealthily; blue-eyed Archie caressed his red whiskers witha hesitating hand; the boatswain at the door stared a moment, andbrusquely went away with a loud guffaw. Wamibo dreamed. .. . Donkinfelt all over his sterile chin for the few rare hairs, and said, triumphantly, with a sidelong glance at Jimmy:--"Look at 'im! Wish Iwas 'arf has 'ealthy as 'ee is--I do. " He jerked a short thumb over hisshoulder towards the after end of the ship. "That's the blooming wayto do 'em!" he yelped, with forced heartiness. Jimmy said:--"Don't be adam' fool, " in a pleasant voice. Knowles, rubbing his shoulder againstthe doorpost, remarked shrewdly:--"We can't all go an' be took sick--itwould be mutiny. "--"Mutiny--gawn!" jeered Donkin, "there's no bloomin'law against bein' sick. "--"There's six weeks' hard for refoosing dooty, "argued Knowles, "I mind I once seed in Cardiff the crew of an overloadedship--leastways she weren't overloaded, only a fatherly old gentlemanwith a white beard and an umbreller came along the quay and talked tothe hands. Said as how it was crool hard to be drownded in winter justfor the sake of a few pounds more for the owner--he said. Nearly criedover them--he did; and he had a square mainsail coat, and a gaff-topsailhat too--all proper. So they chaps they said they wouldn't go to bedrownded in winter--depending upon that 'ere Plimsoll man to see 'emthrough the court. They thought to have a bloomin' lark and two orthree days' spree. And the beak giv' 'em six weeks--coss the ship warn'toverloaded. Anyways they made it out in court that she wasn't. Therewasn't one overloaded ship in Penarth Dock at all. 'Pears that old coonhe was only on pay and allowance from some kind people, under ordersto look for overloaded ships, and he couldn't see no further than thelength of his umbreller. Some of us in the boarding-house, where Ilive when I'm looking for a ship in Cardiff, stood by to duck that oldweeping spunger in the dock. We kept a good look-out, too--but he toppedhis boom directly he was outside the court. .. . Yes. They got six weeks'hard. .. . "

They listened, full of curiosity, nodding in the pauses their roughpensive faces. Donkin opened his mouth once or twice, but restrainedhimself. Jimmy lay still with open eyes and not at all interested. Aseaman emitted the opinion that after a verdict of atrocious partiality"the bloomin' beaks go an' drink at the skipper's expense. " Othersassented. It was clear, of course. Donkin said:--"Well, six weeks ain'tmuch trouble. You sleep all night in, reg'lar, in chokey. Do it on my'ead. " "You are used to it ainch'ee, Donkin?" asked somebody. Jimmycondescended to laugh. It cheered up every one wonderfully. Knowles, with surprising mental agility, shifted his ground. "If we all went sickwhat would become of the ship? eh?" He posed the problem and grinnedall round. --"Let 'er go to 'ell, " sneered Donkin. "Damn 'er. She ain'tyourn. "--"What? Just let her drift?" insisted Knowles in a tone ofunbelief. --"Aye! Drift, an' be blowed, " affirmed Donkin with finerecklessness. The other did not see it--meditated. --"The stores wouldrun out, " he muttered, "and. .. Never get anywhere. .. And what aboutpayday?" he added with greater assurance. --"Jack likes a good pay-day, "exclaimed a listener on the doorstep. "Aye, because then the girls putone arm round his neck an' t'other in his pocket, and call him ducky. Don't they, Jack?"--"Jack, you're a terror with the gals. "--"He takesthree of 'em in tow to once, like one of 'em Watkinses two-funneltugs waddling away with three schooners behind. "--"Jack, you're a lamescamp. "--"Jack, tell us about that one with a blue eye and a black eye. Do. "--"There's plenty of girls with one black eye along the Highwayby. .. "

--"No, that's a speshul one--come, Jack. " Donkin looked severe anddisgusted; Jimmy very bored; a grey-haired sea-dog shook his headslightly, smiling at the bowl of his pipe, discreetly amused. Knowles turned about bewildered; stammered first at one, then atanother. --"No!. .. I never!. .. Can't talk sensible sense midst you. .. . Always on the kid. " He retired bashfully--muttering and pleased. Theylaughed, hooting in the crude light, around Jimmy's bed, where on awhite pillow his hollowed black face moved to and fro restlessly. A puffof wind came, made the flame of the lamp leap, and outside, high up, the sails fluttered, while near by the block of the foresheet strucka ringing blow on the iron bulwark. A voice far off cried, "Helmup!" another, more faint, answered, "Hard-up, sir!" They becamesilent--waited expectantly. The grey-haired seaman knocked his pipeon the doorstep and stood up. ' The ship leaned over gently and the seaseemed to wake up, murmuring drowsily. "Here's a little wind comin', "said some one very low. Jimmy turned over slowly to face the breeze. Thevoice in the night cried loud and commanding:--"Haul the spanker out. "The group before the door vanished out of the light. They could be heardtramping aft while they repeated with varied intonations:--"Spankerout!". .. "Out spanker, sir!" Donkin remained alone with Jimmy. There wasa silence. Jimmy opened and shut his lips several times as if swallowingdraughts of fresher air; Donkin moved the toes of his bare feet andlooked at them thoughtfully. 

"Ain't you going to give them a hand with the sail?" asked Jimmy. 

"No. If six ov 'em ain't 'nough beef to set that blamed, rotten spanker, they ain't fit to live, " answered Donkin in a bored, far-away voice, asthough he had been talking from the bottom of a hole. Jimmy consideredthe conical, fowl-like profile with a queer kind of interest; he wasleaning out of his bunk with the calculating, uncertain expression ofa man who reflects how best to lay hold of some strange creature thatlooks as though it could sting or bite. But he said only:--"The matewill miss you--and there will be ructions. "

Donkin got up to go. "I will do for 'im some dark night; see if Idon't, " he said over his shoulder. 

Jimmy went on quickly:--"You're like a poll-parrot, like a screechin'poll-parrot. " Donkin stopped and cocked his head attentively on oneside. His big ears stood out, transparent and veined, resembling thethin wings of a bat. 

"Yuss?" he said, with his back towards Jimmy. 

"Yes! Chatter out all you know--like. .. Like a dirty white cockatoo. "

Donkin waited. He could hear the other's breathing, long and slow; thebreathing of a man with a hundredweight or so on the breastbone. Then heasked calmly:--"What do I know?"

"What?. .. What I tell you. .. Not much. What do you want. .. To talk aboutmy health so. .. "

"It's a blooming imposyshun. A bloomin', stinkin', first-classimposyshun--but it don't tyke me in. Not it. "

Jimmy kept still. Donkin put his hands in his pockets, and in oneslouching stride came up to the bunk. 

"I talk--what's the odds. They ain't men 'ere--sheep they are. A drivenlot of sheep. I 'old you up. .. Vy not? You're well orf. "

"I am. .. I don't say anything about that. .. . "

"Well. Let 'em see it. Let 'em larn what a man can do. I am a man, Iknow all about yer. .. . " Jimmy threw himself further away on the pillow;the other stretched out his skinny neck, jerked his bird face down athim as though pecking at the eyes. "I am a man. I've seen the inside ofevery chokey in the Colonies rather'n give up my rights. .. . "

"You are a jail-prop, " said Jimmy, weakly. 

"I am. .. An' proud of it, too. You! You 'aven't the bloomin' nerve--soyou inventyd this 'ere dodge. .. . " He paused; then with markedafterthought accentuated slowly:--"Yer ain't sick--are yer?"

"No, " said Jimmy, firmly. "Been out of sorts now and again this year, "he mumbled with a sudden drop in his voice. 

Donkin closed one eye, amicable and confidential. He whispered:--"Ye'ave done this afore'aven'tchee?" Jimmy smiled--then as if unable tohold back he let himself go:--"Last ship--yes. I was out of sorts on thepassage. See? It was easy. They paid me off in Calcutta, and the skippermade no bones about it either. .. . I got my money all right. Laid upfifty-eight days! The fools! O Lord! The fools! Paid right off. " Helaughed spasmodically. Donkin chimed in giggling. Then Jimmy coughedviolently. "I am as well as ever, " he said, as soon as he could drawbreath. 

Donkin made a derisive gesture. "In course, " he said, profoundly, "any one can see that. "--"They don't, " said Jimmy, gasping like afish. --"They would swallow any yarn, " affirmed Donkin. --"Don't you leton too much, " admonished Jimmy in an exhausted voice. --"Your littlegyme? Eh?" commented Donkin, jovially. Then with sudden disgust: "Yerall for yerself, s'long as ye're right. .. "

So charged with egoism James Wait pulled the blanket up to his chin andlay still for a while. His heavy lips protruded in an everlasting blackpout. "Why are you so hot on making trouble?" he asked without muchinterest. 

"'Cos it's a bloomin' shayme. We are put upon. .. Bad food, bad pay. .. Iwant us to kick up a bloomin' row; a blamed 'owling row that would make'em remember! Knocking people about. .. Brain us indeed! Ain't we men?"His altruistic indignation blazed. Then he said calmly:--"I've beenairing yer clothes. "--"All right, " said Jimmy, languidly, "bring themin. "--"Giv' us the key of your chest, I'll put 'em away for yer, " saidDonkin with friendly eagerness. --"Bring 'em in, I will put themaway myself, " answered James Wait with severity. Donkin lookeddown, muttering. .. . "What d'you say? What d'you say?" inquired Waitanxiously. --"Nothink. The night's dry, let 'em 'ang out till themorning, " said Donkin, in a strangely trembling voice, as thoughrestraining laughter or rage. Jimmy seemed satisfied. --"Give me a littlewater for the night in my mug--there, " he said. Donkin took a strideover the doorstep. --"Git it yerself, " he replied in a surly tone. "Youcan do it, unless you _are_ sick. "--"Of course I can do it, " said Wait, "only. .. "--"Well, then, do it, " said Donkin, viciously, "if yer canlook after yer clothes, yer can look after yerself. " He went on deckwithout a look back. 

Jimmy reached out for the mug. Not a drop. He put it back gently with afaint sigh--and closed his eyes. He thought:--That lunatic Belfast willbring me some water if I ask. Fool. I am very thirsty. .. . It was veryhot in the cabin, and it seemed to turn slowly round, detach itself fromthe ship, and swing out smoothly into a luminous, arid space wherea black sun shone, spinning very fast. A place without any water! Nowater! A policeman with the face of Donkin drank a glass of beer by theside of an empty well, and flew away flapping vigorously. A shipwhose mastheads protruded through the sky and could not be seen, wasdischarging grain, and the wind whirled the dry husks in spirals alongthe quay of a dock with no water in it. He whirled along with thehusks--very tired and light. All his inside was gone. He felt lighterthan the husks--and more dry. He expanded his hollow chest. The airstreamed in, carrying away in its rush a lot of strange things thatresembled houses, trees, people, lamp-posts. .. . No more! There was nomore air--and he had not finished drawing his long breath. But he wasin jail! They were locking him up. A door slammed. They turned the keytwice, flung a bucket of water over him--Phoo! What for?

He opened his eyes, thinking the fall had been very heavy for an emptyman--empty--empty. He was in his cabin. Ah! All right! His face wasstreaming with perspiration, his arms heavier than lead. He saw thecook standing in the doorway, a brass key in one hand and a bright tinhook-pot in the other. 

"I have locked up the galley for the night, " said the cook, beamingbenevolently. "Eight bells just gone. I brought you a pot of cold teafor your night's drinking, Jimmy. I sweetened it with some white cabinsugar, too. Well--it won't break the ship. "

He came in, hung the pot on the edge of the bunk, asked perfunctorily, "How goes it?" and sat down on the box. --"H'm, " grunted Wait, inhospitably. The cook wiped his face with a dirty cotton rag, which, afterwards, he tied round his neck. --"That's how them firemen do insteamboats, " he said, serenely, and much pleased with himself. "My work is as heavy as theirs--I'm thinking--and longer hours. Did you ever see them down the stokehold? Like fiends theylook--firing--firing--firing--down there. "

He pointed his forefinger at the deck. Some gloomy thought darkened hisshining face, fleeting, like the shadow of a travelling cloud over thelight of a peaceful sea. The relieved watch tramped noisily forward, passing in a body across the sheen of the doorway. Some one cried, "Good-night!" Belfast stopped for a moment and looked at Jimmy, quivering and speechless with repressed emotion. He gave the cook aglance charged with dismal foreboding, and vanished. The cook clearedhis throat. Jimmy stared upwards and kept as still as a man in hiding. 

The night was clear, with a gentle breeze. Above the mastheads theresplendent curve of the Milky Way spanned the sky like a triumphalarch of eternal light, thrown over the dark pathway of the earth. On theforecastle head a man whistled with loud precision a lively jig, whileanother could be heard faintly, shuffling and stamping in time. Therecame from forward a confused murmur of voices, laughter--snatches ofsong. The cook shook his head, glanced obliquely at Jimmy, and began tomutter. "Aye. Dance and sing. That's all they think of. I am surprisedthat Providence don't get tired. .. . They forget the day that's sure tocome. .. But you. .. . "

Jimmy drank a gulp of tea, hurriedly, as though he had stolen it, andshrank under his blanket, edging away towards the bulkhead. The cook gotup, closed the door, then sat down again and said distinctly:--

"Whenever I poke my galley fire I think of you chaps--swearing, stealing, lying, and worse--as if there was no such thing as anotherworld. .. . Not bad fellows, either, in a way, " he conceded, slowly;then, after a pause of regretful musing, he went on in a resignedtone:--"Well, well. They will have a hot time of it. Hot! Did I say? Thefurnaces of one of them White Star boats ain't nothing to it. "

He kept very quiet for a while. There was a great stir in his brain; anaddled vision of bright outlines; an exciting row of rousing songsand groans of pain. He suffered, enjoyed, admired, approved. He wasdelighted, frightened, exalted--as on that evening (the only time in hislife--twenty-seven years ago; he loved to recall the number of years)when as a young man he had--through keeping bad company--becomeintoxicated in an East-end music-hall. A tide of sudden feeling swepthim clean out of his body. He soared. He contemplated the secret of thehereafter. It commended itself to him. It was excellent; he loved it, himself, all hands, and Jimmy. His heart overflowed with tenderness, with comprehension, with the desire to meddle, with anxiety for thesoul of that black man, with the pride of possessed eternity, with thefeeling of might. Snatch him up in his arms and pitch him right into themiddle of salvation. .. The black soul--blacker--body--rot--Devil. No!Talk-strength--Samson. .. . There was a great din as of cymbals in hisears; he flashed through an ecstatic jumble of shining faces, lilies, prayer-books, unearthly joy, white skirts, gold harps, black coats, wings. He saw flowing garments, clean shaved faces, a sea of light--alake of pitch. There were sweet scent, a smell of sulphur--red tonguesof flame licking a white mist. An awesome voice thundered!. .. It lastedthree seconds. 

"Jimmy!" he cried in an inspired tone. Then he hesitated. A sparkof human pity glimmered yet through the infernal fog of his supremeconceit. 

"What?" said James Wait, unwillingly. There was a silence. He turned hishead just the least bit, and stole a cautious glance. The cook's lipsmoved without a sound; his face was rapt, his eyes turned up. He seemedto be mentally imploring deck beams, the brass hook of the lamp, twocockroaches. 

"Look here, " said Wait, "I want to go to sleep. I think I could. "

"This is no time for sleep!" exclaimed the cook, very loud. He hadprayerfully divested himself of the last vestige of his humanity. He wasa voice--a fleshless and sublime thing, as on that memorable night--thenight when he went walking over the sea to make coffee for perishingsinners. "This is no time for sleeping, " he repeated with exaltation. "Ican't sleep. "

"Don't care damn, " said Wait, with factitious energy. "I can. Go an'turn in. "

"Swear. .. In the very jaws!. .. In the very jaws! Don't you see theeverlasting fire. .. Don't you feel it? Blind, chockfull of sin! Repent, repent! I can't bear to think of you. I hear the call to save you. Nightand day. Jimmy, let me save you!" The words of entreaty and menacebroke out of him in a roaring torrent. The cockroaches ran away. Jimmyperspired, wriggling stealthily under his blanket. The cook yelled. .. . "Your days are numbered!. .. "--"Get out of this, " boomed Wait, courageously. --"Pray with me!. .. "--"I won't!. .. " The little cabinwas as hot as an oven. It contained an immensity of fear and pain; anatmosphere of shrieks and moans; prayers vociferated like blasphemiesand whispered curses. Outside, the men called by Charley, who informedthem in tones of delight that there was a holy row going on in Jimmy'splace, crowded before the closed door, too startled to open it. Allhands were there. The watch below had jumped out on deck in theirshirts, as after a collision. Men running up, asked:--"What is it?"Others said:--"Listen!" The muffled screaming went on:--"On your knees!On your knees!"--"Shut up!"--"Never! You are delivered into my hands. .. . Your life has been saved. .. . Purpose. .. . Mercy. .. . Repent. "--"You are acrazy fool!. .. "--"Account of you. .. You. .. Never sleep in this world, if I. .. "--"Leave off. "--"No!. .. Stokehold. .. Only think!. .. " Thenan impassioned screeching babble where words pattered like hail. --"No!"shouted Wait. --"Yes. You are!. .. No help. .. . Everybody says so. "--"Youlie!"--"I see you dying this minnyt. .. Before my eyes. .. As good as deadalready. "--"Help!" shouted Jimmy, piercingly. --"Not in this valley. .. . Look upwards, " howled the other. --"Go away! Murder! Help!" clamouredJimmy. His voice broke. There were moanings, low mutters, a few sobs. 

"What's the matter now?" said a seldom-heard voice. --"Fall back, men! Fall back, there!" repeated Mr. Creighton, sternly, pushingthrough. --"Here's the old man, " whispered some. --"The cook's in there, sir, " exclaimed several, backing away. The door clattered open; a broadstream of light darted out on wondering faces; a warm whiff of vitiatedair passed. The two mates towered head and shoulders above the spare, grey-haired man who stood revealed between them, in shabby clothes, stiff and angular, like a small carved figure, and with a thin, composedface. The cook got up from his knees. Jimmy sat high in the bunk, clasping his drawn-up legs. The tassel of the blue night-cap almostimperceptibly trembled over his knees. They gazed astonished at hislong, curved back, while the white corner of one eye gleamed blindlyat them. He was afraid to turn his head, he shrank within himself; andthere was an aspect astounding and animal-like in the perfection of hisexpectant immobility. A thing of instinct--the unthinking stillness of ascared brute. "What are you doing here?" asked Mr. Baker, sharply. --"Myduty, " said the cook, with ardour. --"Your. .. What?" began the mate. Captain Allistoun touched his arm lightly. --"I know his caper, " he said, in a low voice. "Come out of that, Podmore, " he ordered, aloud. 

The cook wrung his hands, shook his fists above his head, and hisarms dropped as if too heavy. For a moment he stood distracted andspeechless. --"Never, " he stammered, "I. .. He I. "--

"What--do--you--say?" pronounced Captain Allistoun. "Come out atonce--or. .. "--"I am going, " said the cook, with a hasty and sombreresignation. He strode over the doorstep firmly--hesitated--made a fewsteps. They looked at him in silence. --"I make you responsible!" hecried, desperately, turning half round. "That man is dying. I make you. . "--"You there yet?" called the master in a threatening tone. --"No, sir, "he exclaimed, hurriedly, in a startled voice. The boatswain led himaway by the arm; some one laughed; Jimmy lifted his head for a stealthyglance, and in one unexpected leap sprang out of his bunk; Mr. Bakermade a clever catch and felt him very limp in his arms; the group at thedoor grunted with surprise. --"He lies, " gasped Wait, "he talkedabout black devils--he is a devil--a white devil--I am all right. "He stiffened himself, and Mr. Baker, experimentally, let him go. Hestaggered a pace or two; Captain Allistoun watched him with a quiet andpenetrating gaze; Belfast ran to his support. He did not appear tobe aware of any one near him; he stood silent for a moment, battlingsingle-handed with a legion of nameless terrors, amidst the eagerlooks of excited men who watched him far off, utterly alone in theimpenetrable solitude of his fear. The sea gurgled through the scuppersas the ship heeled over to a short puff of wind. 

"Keep him away from me, " said James Wait at last m his fine baritonevoice, and leaning with all his weight on Belfast's neck. "I've beenbetter this last week:. .. I am well. .. I was going back to duty. .. To-morrow--now if you like--Captain. " Belfast hitched his shoulders tokeep him upright. 

"No, " said the master, looking at him, fixedly. Under Jimmy's armpitBelfast's red face moved uneasily. A row of eyes gleaming stared on theedge of light. They pushed one another with elbows, turned their heads, whispered. Wait let his chin fall on his breast and, with loweredeyelids, looked round in a suspicious manner. 

"Why not?" cried a voice from the shadows, "the man's all right, sir. "

"I am all right, " said Wait, with eagerness. "Been sick. .. Better. .. Turn-to now. " He sighed. --"Howly Mother!" exclaimed Belfast with a heaveof the shoulders, "stand up, Jimmy. "--"Keep away from me then, " saidWait, giving Belfast a petulant push, and reeling fetched against thedoorpost. His cheekbones glistened as though they had been varnished. Hesnatched off his night-cap, wiped his perspiring face with it, flung iton the deck. "I am coming out, " he declared without stirring. 

"No. You don't, " said the master, curtly. Bare feet shuffled, disapproving voices murmured all round; he went on as if he had notheard:--"You have been skulking nearly all the passage and now you wantto come out. You think you are near enough to the pay-table now. Smellthe shore, hey?"

"I've been sick. .. Now--better, " mumbled Wait, glaring in thelight. --"You have been shamming sick, " retorted Captain Allistoun withseverity; "Why. .. " he hesitated for less than half a second. "Why, anybody can see that. There's nothing the matter with you, but youchoose to lie-up to please yourself--and now you shall lie-up to pleaseme. Mr. Baker, my orders are that this man is not to be allowed on deckto the end of the passage. "

There were exclamations of surprise, triumph, indignation. The darkgroup of men swung across the light. "What for?" "Told you so. .. ""Bloomin' shame. .. "--"We've got to say somethink about that, " screechedDonkin from the rear. --"Never mind, Jim--we will see you righted, " criedseveral together. An elderly seaman stepped to the front. "D'ye mean tosay, sir, " he asked, ominously, "that a sick chap ain't allowed to getwell in this 'ere hooker?" Behind him Donkin whispered excitedly amongsta staring crowd where no one spared him a glance, but Captain AUistounshook a forefinger at the angry bronzed face of the speaker. --"You--youhold your tongue, " he said, warningly. --"This isn't the way, " clamouredtwo or three younger men. --"Are we bloomin' masheens?" inquired Donkinin a piercing tone, and dived under the elbows of the front rank. --"Soonshow 'im we ain't boys. .. "--"The man's a man if he is black. "--"Weain't goin' to work this bloomin' ship shorthanded if Snowball'sall right. .. "--"He says he is. "--"Well then, strike, boys, strike!"--"That's the bloomin' ticket. " Captain AUistoun said sharply tothe second mate: "Keep quiet, Mr. Creighton, " and stood composed in thetumult, listening with profound attention to mixed growls and screeches, to every exclamation and every curse of the sudden outbreak. Somebodyslammed the cabin door to with a kick; the darkness full of menacingmutters leaped with a short clatter over the streak of light, andthe men became gesticulating shadows that growled, hissed, laughedexcitedly. Mr. Baker whispered:--"Get away from them, sir. " The bigshape of Mr. Creighton hovered silently about the slight figure of themaster. --"We have been hymposed upon all this voyage, " said agruff voice, "but this 'ere fancy takes the cake. "--"That man is ashipmate. "--"Are we bloomin' kids?"--"The port watch will refuseduty. " Charley carried away by his feeling whistled shrilly, thenyelped:--"Giv' us our Jimmy!" This seemed to cause a variation in thedisturbance. There was a fresh burst of squabbling uproar. A lot ofquarrels were set going at once. --"Yes. "--"No. "--"Never been sick. "--"Gofor them to once. "--"Shut yer mouth, youngster---this is men'swork. "--"Is it?" muttered Captain Allistoun, bitterly. Mr. Bakergrunted: "Ough! They're gone silly. They've been simmering for the lastmonth. "--"I did notice, " said the master. --"They have started a rowamongst themselves now, " said Mr. Creighton with disdain, "better getaft, sir. We will soothe them. --"Keep your temper, Creighton, " said themaster. And the three men began to move slowly towards the cabin door. 

In the shadows of the fore rigging a dark mass stamped, eddied, advanced, retreated. There were words of reproach, encouragement, unbelief, execration. The elder seamen, bewildered and angry, growledtheir determination to go through with something or other; but theyounger school of advanced thought exposed their and Jimmy's wrongs withconfused shouts, arguing amongst themselves. They clustered round thatmoribund carcass, the fit emblem of their aspirations, and encouragingone another they swayed, they tramped on one spot, shouting that theywould not be "put upon. " Inside the cabin, Belfast, helping Jimmy intohis bunk, twitched all over in his desire not to miss all the row, andwith difficulty restrained the tears of his facile emotion. James Wait, flat on his back under the blanket, gasped complaints. --"We will backyou up, never fear, " assured Belfast, busy about his feet. --

"I'll come out to-morrow morning------take my chance-------you fellowsmust------" mumbled Wait, "I come out to-morrow------skipper or noskipper. " He lifted one arm with great difficulty, passed the hand overhis face; "Don't you let that cook. .. " he breathed out. --"No, no, "said Belfast, turning his back on the bunk, "I will put a head on himif he comes near you. "--"I will smash his mug!" exclaimed faintly Wait, enraged and weak; "I don't want to kill a man, but. .. " He panted fastlike a dog after a run in sunshine. Some one just outside the doorshouted, "He's as fit as any ov us!" Belfast put his hand on thedoor-handle. --"Here!" called James Wait, hurriedly, and in such a clearvoice that the other spun round with a start. James Wait, stretchedout black and deathlike in the dazzling light, turned his head on thepillow. His eyes stared at Belfast, appealing and impudent. "I amrather weak from lying-up so long, " he said, distinctly. Belfast nodded. "Getting quite well now, " insisted Wait. --"Yes. I noticed you gettingbetter this. .. Last month, " said Belfast, looking down. "Hallo! What'sthis?" he shouted and ran out. 

He was flattened directly against the side of the house by two men wholurched against him. A lot of disputes seemed to be going on all round. He got clear and saw three indistinct figures standing along in thefainter darkness under the arched foot of the mainsail, that rose abovetheir heads like a convex wall of a high edifice. Donkin hissed:--"Gofor them. .. It's dark!" The crowd took a short run aft in a body--thenthere was a check. Donkin, agile and thin, flitted past with his rightarm going like a windmill--and then stood still suddenly with his armpointing rigidly above his head. The hurtling flight of some heavyobject was heard; it passed between the heads of the two mates, boundedheavily along the deck, struck the after hatch with a ponderous anddeadened blow. The bulky shape of Mr. Baker grew distinct. "Come to yoursenses, men!" he cried, advancing at the arrested crowd. "Come back, Mr. Baker!" called the master's quiet voice. He obeyed unwillingly. Therewas a minute of silence, then a deafening hubbub arose. Above it Archiewas heard energetically:--"If ye do oot ageen I wull tell!" There wereshouts. "Don't!" "Drop it!"--"We ain't that kind!" The black cluster ofhuman forms reeled against the bulwark, back again towards thehouse. Ringbolts rang under stumbling feet. --"Drop it!" "Letme!"--"No!"--"Curse you. .. Hah!" Then sounds as of some one's face beingslapped; a piece of iron fell on the deck; a short scuffle, and someone's shadowy body scuttled rapidly across the main hatch beforethe shadow of a kick. A raging voice sobbed out a torrent of filthylanguage. .. --"Throwing things--good God!" grunted Mr. Baker indismay. --"That was meant for me, " said the master, quietly; "I feltthe wind of that thing; what was it--an iron belaying-pin?"--"By Jove!"muttered Mr. Creighton. The confused voices of men talking amidshipsmingled with the wash of the sea, ascended between the silent anddistended sails-seemed to flow away into the night, further thanthe horizon, higher than the sky. The stars burned steadily over theinclined mastheads. Trails of light lay on the water, broke before theadvancing hull, and, after she had passed, trembled for a long time asif in awe of the murmuring sea. 

Meantime the helmsman, anxious to know what the row was about, had letgo the wheel, and, bent double, ran with long, stealthy footsteps to thebreak of the poop. The _Narcissus_, left to herself, came up gently into the wind without any one being aware of it. She gave a slight roll, and the sleeping sails woke suddenly, coming all together with a mightyflap against the masts, then filled again one after another in a quicksuccession of loud reports that ran down the lofty spars, till thecollapsed mainsail flew out last with a violent jerk. The ship trembledfrom trucks to keel; the sails kept on rattling like a discharge ofmusketry; the chain sheets and loose shackles jingled aloft in a thinpeal; the gin blocks groaned. It was as if an invisible hand had giventhe ship an angry shake to recall the men that peopled her decks to thesense of reality, vigilance, and duty. --"Helm up!" cried the master, sharply. "Run aft, Mr. Creighton, and see what that fool there is upto. "--"Flatten in the head sheets. Stand by the weather fore-braces, "growled Mr. Baker. Startled men ran swiftly repeating the orders. Thewatch below, abandoned all at once by the watch on deck, drifted towardsthe forecastle in twos and threes, arguing noisily as they went--"Weshall see to-morrow!" cried a loud voice, as if to cover with a menacinghint an inglorious retreat. And then only orders were heard, the fallingof heavy coils of rope, the rattling of blocks. Singleton's white headflitted here and there in the night, high above the deck, like the ghostof a bird. --"Going off, sir!" shouted Mr. Creighton from aft. --"Fullagain. "--"All right. .. "--"Ease off the head sheets. That will do thebraces. Coil the ropes up, " grunted Mr. Baker, bustling about. 

Gradually the tramping noises, the confused sound of voices, died out, and the officers, coming together on the poop, discussed the events. Mr. Baker was bewildered and grunted; Mr. Creighton was calmly furious;but Captain Allistoun was composed and thoughtful. He; listened to Mr. Baker's growling argumentation, to Creighton's interjected and severeremarks, while look-' ing down on the deck he weighed in his hand theiron belaying-pin--that a moment ago had just missed his head--as if ithad been the only tangible fact of the whole transaction. He was oneof those commanders who speak little, seem to hear nothing, look at noone--and know everything, hear every whisper, see every fleeting shadowof their ship's life. His two big officers towered above his lean, shortfigure; they talked over his head; they were dismayed, surprised, andangry, while between them the little quiet man seemed to have found histaciturn serenity in the profound depths of a larger experience. Lightswere burning in the forecastle; now and then a loud gust of babblingchatter came from forward, swept over the decks, and became faint, as ifthe unconscious ship, gliding gently through the great peace of the sea, had left behind and for ever the foolish noise of turbulent mankind. Butit was renewed again and again. Gesticulating arms, profiles of headswith open mouths appeared for a moment in the illuminated squares ofdoorways; black fists darted--withdrew. .. "Yes. It was most damnable tohave such an unprovoked row sprung on one, " assented the master. . .. Atumult of yells rose in the light, abruptly ceased. .. . He didn't thinkthere would be any further trouble just then. .. . A bell was struck aft, another, forward, answered in a deeper tone, and the clamour of ringingmetal spread round the ship in a circle of wide vibrations that ebbedaway into the immeasurable night of an empty sea. .. . Didn't he knowthem! Didn't he! In past years. Better men, too. Real men to stand byone in a tight place. Worse than devils too sometimes--downright, horneddevils. Pah! This--. Nothing. A miss as good as a mile. .. . The wheel wasbeing relieved in the usual way. --"Full and by, " said, very loud, theman going off. --"Full and by, " repeated the other, catching hold of thespokes. --"This head wind is my trouble, " exclaimed the master, stampinghis foot in sudden anger; "head wind! all the rest is nothing. " He wascalm again in a moment. "Keep them on the move to-night, gentlemen; justto let them feel we've got hold all the time--quietly, you know. Mindyou keep your hands off them, Creighton. To-morrow I will talk to themlike a Dutch Uncle. A crazy crowd of tinkers! Yes, tinkers! I couldcount the real sailors amongst them on the fingers of one hand. Nothingwill do but a row--if--you--please. " He paused. "Did you think I hadgone wrong there, Mr. Baker?" He tapped his forehead, laughed short. "When I saw him standing there, three parts dead and so scared--blackamongst that gaping lot--no grit to face what's coming to us all--thenotion came to me all at once, before I could think. Sorry for him--likeyou would be for a sick brute. If ever creature was in a mortal funkto die! . .. I thought I would let him go out in his own way. Kind ofimpulse. It never came into my head, those fools. .. . H'm! Stand to itnow--of course. " He stuck the belaying-pin in his pocket, seemed ashamedof himself, then sharply:--"If you see Podmore at his tricks again tellhim I will have him put under the pump. Had to do it once before. Thefellow breaks out like that now and then. Good cook tho'. " He walkedaway quickly, came back to the companion. The two mates followed himthrough the starlight with amazed eyes. He went down three steps, andchanging his tone, spoke with his head near the deck:--"I shan't turn into-night, in case of anything; just call out if. .. Did you see the eyesof that sick nigger, Mr. Baker? I fancied he begged me for something. What? Past all help. One lone black beggar amongst the lot of us, andhe seemed to look through me into the very hell. Fancy, this wretchedPodmore! Well, let him die in peace. I am master here after all. Lethim be. He might have been half a man once. .. Keep a good look-out. " Hedisappeared down below, leaving his mates facing one another, and moreimpressed than if they had seen a stone image shed a miraculous tear ofcompassion over the incertitudes of life and death. .. . 

In the blue mist spreading from twisted threads that stood upright inthe bowls of pipes, the forecastle appeared as vast as a hall. Betweenthe beams a heavy cloud stagnated; and the lamps surrounded by halosburned each at the core of a purple glow in two lifeless flames withoutrays. Wreaths drifted in denser wisps. Men sprawled about on the deck, sat in negligent poses, or, bending a knee, drooped with one shoulderagainst a bulkhead. Lips moved, eyes flashed, waving arms made suddeneddies in the smoke. The murmur of voices seemed to pile itself higherand higher as if unable to run out quick enough through the narrowdoors. The watch below in their shirts, and striding on long white legs, resembled raving somnambulists; while now and then one of the watch ondeck would rush in, looking strangely over-dressed, listen a moment, fling a rapid sentence into the noise and run out again; but a fewremained near the door, fascinated, and with one ear turned to the deck. "Stick together, boys, " roared Davis. Belfast tried to make himselfheard. Knowles grinned in a slow, dazed way. A short fellow with athick clipped beard kept on yelling periodically:--"Who's afeard? Who'safeard?" Another one jumped up, excited, with blazing eyes, sent outa string of unattached curses and sat down quietly. Two men discussedfamiliarly, striking one another's breast in turn, to clinch arguments. Three others, with their heads in a bunch, spoke all together with aconfidential air, and at the top of their voices. It was a stormy chaosof speech where intelligible fragments tossing, struck the ear. Onecould hear:--"In the last ship"--"Who cares? Try it on any one of usif-------. "

"Knock under"--"Not a hand's turn"--"He says he is all right"--"I alwaysthought"--"Never mind. .. . " Donkin, crouching all in a heap against thebowsprit, hunched his shoulderblades as high as his ears, and hanginga peaked nose, resembled a sick vulture with ruffled plumes. Belfast, straddling his legs, had a face red with yelling, and with arms thrownup, figured a Maltese cross. The two Scandinavians, in a corner, hadthe dumbfounded and distracted aspect of men gazing at a cataclysm. And, beyond the light, Singleton stood in the smoke, monumental, indistinct, with his head touching the beam; like a statue of heroic size in thegloom of a crypt. 

He stepped forward, impassive and big. The noise subsided like a brokenwave: but Belfast cried once more with uplifted arms:--"The man isdying I tell ye!" then sat down suddenly on the hatch and took his headbetween his hands. All looked at Singleton, gazing upwards from thedeck, staring out of dark corners, or turning their heads with curiousglances. They were expectant and appeased as if that old man, who lookedat no one, had possessed the secret of their uneasy indignations anddesires, a sharper vision, a clearer knowledge. And indeed standingthere amongst them, he had the uninterested appearance of one who hadseen multitudes of ships, had listened many times to voices such astheirs, had already seen all that could happen on the wide seas. Theyheard his voice rumble in his broad chest as though the words had beenrolling towards them out of a rugged past. "What do you want to do?" heasked. No one answered. Only Knowles muttered--"Aye, aye, " and somebodysaid low:--"It's a bloomin' shame. " He waited, made a contemptuousgesture. --"I have seen rows aboard ship before some of you were born, "he said, slowly, "for something or nothing; but never for such athing. "--"The man is dying, I tell ye, " repeated Belfast, woefully, sitting at Singleton's feet. --"And a black fellow, too, " went on the oldseaman, "I have seen them die like flies. " He stopped, thoughtful, as iftrying to recollect gruesome things, details of horrors, hecatombs ofniggers. They looked at him fascinated. He was old enough to rememberslavers, bloody mutinies, pirates perhaps; who could tell through whatviolences and terrors he had lived! What would he say? He said:--"Youcan't help him; die he must. " He made another pause. His moustache andbeard stirred. He chewed words, mumbled behind tangled white hairs;incomprehensible and exciting, like an oracle behind a veil. .. . --"Stopashore------sick. -------Instead------bringing all this head wind. Afraid. The sea will have her own. ------Die in sight of land. Always so. They know it------long passage------more days, more dollars. ------You----"

He seemed to wake up from a dream. "You can't help yourselves, " hesaid, austerely, "Skipper's no fool. He has something in his mind. Lookout--say! I know 'em!" With eyes fixed in front he turned his head fromright to left, from left to right, as if inspecting a long row ofastute skippers. --"'Ee said 'ee would brain me!" cried Donkin in aheartrending tone. Singleton peered downwards with puzzled attention, as though he couldn't find him. --"Damn you!" he said, vaguely, giving itup. He radiated unspeakable wisdom, hard unconcern, the chilling airof resignation. Round him all the listeners felt themselves somehowcompletely enlightened by their disappointment, and mute, they lolledabout with the careless ease of men who can discern perfectly theirremediable aspect of their existence. He, profound and unconscious, waved his arm once, and strode out on deck without another word. 

Belfast was lost in a round-eyed meditation. One or two vaulted heavilyinto upper berths, and, once there, sighed; others dived head firstinside lower bunks--swift, and turning round instantly upon themselves, like animals going into lairs. The grating of a knife scraping burntclay was heard. Knowles grinned no more. Davis said, in a tone of ardentconviction: "Then our skipper's looney. " Archie muttered: "My faith! wehaven't heard the last of it yet!" Four bells were struck. --"Half ourwatch below gone!" cried Knowles in alarm, then reflected. "Well, twohours' sleep is something towards a rest, " he observed, consolingly. Some already pretended to slumber; and Charley, sound asleep, suddenlysaid a few slurred words in an arbitrary, blank voice. --"This blamedboy has worrums!" commented Knowles from under a blanket, in a learnedmanner. Belfast got up and approached Archie's berth. --"We pulledhim out, " he whispered, sadly. --"What?" said the other, with sleepydiscontent. --"And now we will have to chuck him overboard, " went onBelfast, whose lower lip trembled. --"Chuck what?" asked Archie. --"PoorJimmy, " breathed out Belfast. --"He be blowed!" said Archie withuntruthful brutality, and sat up in his bunk; "It's all through him. If it hadn't been for me, there would have been murder on board thisship!"--"'Tain't his fault, is it?" argued Belfast, in a murmur; "I'veput him to bed. .. An' he ain't no heavier than an empty beef-cask, "he added, with tears in his eyes. Archie looked at him steadily, thenturned his nose to the ship's side with determination. Belfast wanderedabout as though he had lost his way in the dim forecastle, and nearlyfell over Donkin. He contemplated him from on high for a while. "Ain'tye going to turn in?" he asked. Donkin looked up hopelessly. --"Thatblack'earted Scotch son of a thief kicked me!" he whispered from thefloor, in a tone of utter desolation. --"And a good job, too!" saidBelfast, still very depressed; "You were as near hanging as damn-itto-night, sonny. Don't you play any of your murthering games around myJimmy! You haven't pulled him out. You just mind! 'Cos if I start tokick you"--he brightened up a bit--"if I start to kick you, it will beYankee fashion--to break something!" He tapped lightly with his knucklesthe top of the bowed head. "You moind that, my bhoy!" he concluded, cheerily. Donkin let it pass. --"Will they split on me?" he asked, withpained anxiety. --"Who--split?" hissed Belfast, coming back a step. "Iwould split your nose this minyt if I hadn't Jimmy to look after! Whod'ye think we are?" Donkin rose and watched Belfast's back lurch throughthe doorway. On all sides invisible men slept, breathing calmly. Heseemed to draw courage and fury from the peace around him. Venomous andthin-faced, he glared from the ample misfit of borrowed clothes as iflooking for something he could smash. His heart leaped wildly in hisnarrow chest. They slept! He wanted to wring necks, gouge eyes, spiton faces. He shook a dirty pair of meagre fists at the smoking lights. "Ye're no men!" he cried, in a deadened tone. No one moved. "Yer 'aven'tthe pluck of a mouse!" His voice rose to a husky screech. Wamibo dartedout a dishevelled head, and looked at him wildly. "Ye're sweepingsov ships! I 'ope you will all rot before you die!" Wamibo blinked, uncomprehending but interested. Donkin sat down heavily; he blew withforce through quivering nostrils, he ground and snapped his teeth, and, with the chin pressed hard against the breast, he seemed busy gnawinghis way through it, as if to get at the heart within. .. . 

In the morning the ship, beginning another day of her wandering life, had an aspect of sumptuous freshness, like the spring-time of the earth. The washed decks glistened in a long clear stretch; the oblique sunlightstruck the yellow brasses in dazzling splashes, darted over the polishedrods in lines of gold, and the single drops of salt water forgotten hereand there along the rail were as limpid as drops of dew, and sparkledmore than scattered diamonds. The sails slept, hushed by a gentlebreeze. The sun, rising lonely and splendid in the blue sky, saw asolitary ship gliding close-hauled on the blue sea. 

The men pressed three deep abreast of the mainmast and opposite thecabin-door. They shuffled, pushed, had an irresolute mien and stolidfaces. At every slight movement Knowles lurched heavily on his shortleg. Donkin glided behind backs, restless and anxious, like a manlooking for an ambush. Captain Allistoun came out on the quarter-decksuddenly. He walked to and fro before the front. He was grey, slight, alert, shabby in the sunshine, and as hard as adamant. He had his righthand in the side-pocket of his jacket, and also something heavy in therethat made folds all down that side. One of the seamen cleared his throatominously. --"I haven't till now found fault with you men, " said themaster, stopping short. He faced them with his worn, steely gaze, thatby a universal illusion looked straight into every individual pair ofthe twenty pairs of eyes before his face. At his back Mr. Baker, gloomyand bull-necked, grunted low; Mr. Creighton, fresh as paint, had rosycheeks and a ready, resolute bearing. "And I don't now, " continued themaster; "but I am here to drive this ship and keep every man-jack aboardof her up to the mark. If you knew your work as well as I do mine, there would be no trouble. You've been braying in the dark about 'Seeto-morrow morning!' Well, you see me now. What do you want?" He waited, stepping quickly to and fro, giving them searching glances. What didthey want? They shifted from foot to foot, they balanced their bodies;some, pushing back their caps, scratched their heads. What did theywant? Jimmy was forgotten; no one thought of him, alone forward inhis cabin, fighting great shadows, clinging to brazen lies, chucklingpainfully over his transparent deceptions. No, not Jimmy; he was moreforgotten than if he had been dead. They wanted great things. Andsuddenly all the simple words they knew seemed to be lost for ever inthe immensity of their vague and burning desire. They knew what theywanted, but they could not find anything worth saying. They stirred onone spot, swinging, at the end of muscular arms, big tarry hands withcrooked fingers. A murmur died out. --"What is it--food?" asked themaster, "you know the stores have been spoiled off the Cape. "--"We knowthat, sir, " said a bearded shell-back in the front rank. --"Work toohard--eh? Too much for your strength?" he asked again. There was anoffended silence. --"We don't want to go shorthanded, sir, " began at lastDavis in a wavering voice, "and this 'ere black. .. . "--"Enough!" criedthe master. He stood scanning them for a moment, then walking a fewsteps this way and that began to storm at them coldly, in gustsviolent and cutting like the gales of those icy seas that had knownhis youth. --"Tell you what's the matter? Too big for your boots. Thinkyourselves damn good men. Know half your work. Do half your duty. Thinkit too much. If you did ten times as much it wouldn't beenough. "--"We did our best by her, sir, " cried some one with shakyexasperation. --"Your best, " stormed on the master; "You hear a lot onshore, don't you? They don't tell you there your best isn't much toboast of. I tell you--your best is no better than bad. "

"You can do no more? No, I know, and say nothing. But you stop your caperor I will stop it for you. I am ready for you! Stop it!" He shook afinger at the crowd. "As to that man, " he raised his voice very much;"as to that man, if he puts his nose out on deck without my leave I willclap him in irons. There!" The cook heard him forward, ran out of thegalley lifting his arms, horrified, unbelieving, amazed, and ran inagain. There was a moment of profound silence during which a bow-leggedseaman, stepping aside, expectorated decorously into the scupper. "Thereis another thing, " said the master, calmly. He made a quick stride andwith a swing took an iron belaying-pin out of his pocket. "This!" Hismovement was so unexpected and sudden that the crowd stepped back. Hegazed fixedly at their faces, and some at once put on a surprised air asthough they had never seen a belay-ing-pin before. He held it up. "Thisis my affair. I don't ask you any questions, but you all know it; it hasgot to go where it came from. " His eyes became angry. The crowd stirreduneasily. They looked away from the piece of iron, they appeared shy, they were embarrassed and shocked as though it had been somethinghorrid, scandalous, or indelicate, that in common decency should nothave been flourished like this in broad daylight. The master watchedthem attentively. "Donkin, " he called out in a short, sharp tone. 

Donkin dodged behind one, then behind another, but they looked overtheir shoulders and moved aside. The ranks kept on opening before him, closing behind, till at last he appeared alone before the master asthough he had come up through the deck. Captain Allistoun moved close tohim. They were much of a size, and at short range the master exchanged adeadly glance with the beady eyes. They wavered. --"You know this?"asked the master. --"No, I don't, " answered the other, with cheekytrepidation. --"You are a cur. Take it, " ordered the master. Donkin'sarms seemed glued to his thighs; he stood, eyes front, as if drawnon parade. "Take it, " repeated the master, and stepped closer; theybreathed on one another. "Take it, " said Captain Allistoun again, makinga menacing gesture. Donkin tore away one arm from his side. --"Vy are yerdown on me?" he mumbled with effort and as if his mouth had been full ofdough. --"If you don't. .. " began the master. Donkin snatched at the pinas though his intention had been to run away with it, and remained stockstill holding it like a candle. "Put it back where you took it from, "said Captain Allistoun, looking at him fiercely. Donkin stepped backopening wide eyes. "Go, you blackguard, or I will make you, " cried themaster, driving him slowly backwards by a menacing advance. He dodged, and with the dangerous iron tried to guard his head from a threateningfist. Mr. Baker ceased grunting for a moment. --"Good! By Jove, " murmuredappreciatively Mr. Creighton in the tone of a connoisseur. --"Don't techme, " snarled Donkin, backing away. --"Then go. Go faster. "--"Don't yer'it me. .. . I will pull yer up afore the magistryt. .. . I'll show yerup. " Captain Allistoun made a long stride, and Donkin, turning his backfairly, ran off a little, then stopped and over his shoulder showedyellow teeth. --"Further on, fore-rigging, " urged the master, pointingwith his arm. --"Are yer goin' to stand by and see me bullied?" screamedDonkin at the silent crowd that watched him. Captain Allistoun walkedat him smartly. He started off again with a leap, dashed at thefore-rigging, rammed the pin into its hole violently. "I'll be evenwith yer yet, " he screamed at the ship at large and vanished beyondthe foremast. Captain Allistoun spun round and walked back aft with acomposed face, as though he had already forgotten the scene. Men movedout of his way. He looked at no one. --"That will do, Mr. Baker. Sendthe watch below, " he said, quietly. "And you men try to walk straightfor the future, " he added in a calm voice. He looked pensively for awhile at the backs of the impressed and retreating crowd. "Breakfast, steward, " he called in a tone of relief through the cabin door. --"Ididn't like to see you--Ough!--give that pin to that chap, sir, "observed Mr. Baker; "he could have bust--Ough!--bust your head like aneggshell with it. "--"O! he!" muttered the master, absently. "Queer lot, "he went on in a low voice. "I suppose it's all right now. Can never telltho' nowadays, with such a. .. Years ago; I was a young master then--oneChina voyage I had a mutiny; real mutiny, Baker. Different men tho'. Iknew what they wanted: they wanted to broach the cargo and get at theliquor. Very simple. .. . We knocked them about for two days, and whenthey had enough--gentle as lambs. Good crew. And a smart trip I made. "He glanced aloft at the yards braced sharp up. "Head wind day afterday, " he exclaimed, bitterly. "Shall we never get a decent slant thispassage?"--"Ready, sir, " said the steward, appearing before them as ifby magic and with a stained napkin in his hand. --"Ah! All right. Comealong, Mr. Baker--it's late--with all this nonsense. "

CHAPTER FIVE

A heavy atmosphere of oppressive quietude pervaded the ship. In theafternoon men went about washing clothes and hanging them out to dryin the unprosperous breeze with the meditative languor of disenchantedphilosophers. Very little was said. The problem of life seemed toovoluminous for the narrow limits of human speech, and by common consentit was abandoned to the great sea that had from the beginning enfoldedit in its immense grip; to the sea that knew all, and would in timeinfallibly unveil to each the wisdom hidden in all the errors, thecertitude that lurks in doubts, the realm of safety and peace beyond thefrontiers of sorrow and fear. And in the confused current of impotentthoughts that set unceasingly this way and that through bodies of men, Jimmy bobbed up upon the surface, compelling attention, like a blackbuoy chained to the bottom of a muddy stream. Falsehood triumphed. It triumphed through doubt, through stupidity, through pity, throughsentimentalism. We set ourselves to bolster it up from compassion, from recklessness, from a sense of fun. Jimmy's steadfastness tohis untruthful attitude in the face of the inevitable truth hadthe proportions of a colossal enigma--of a manifestation grand andincomprehensible that at times inspired a wondering awe; and there wasalso, to many, something exquisitely droll in fooling him thus to thetop of his bent. The latent egoism of tenderness to sufferingappeared in the developing anxiety not to see him die. His obstinatenon-recognition of the only certitude whose approach we could watch fromday to day was as disquieting as the failure of some law of nature. Hewas so utterly wrong about himself that one could not but suspect him ofhaving access to some source of supernatural knowledge. He was absurdto the point of inspiration. He was unique, and as fascinating as onlysomething inhuman could be; he seemed to shout his denials already frombeyond the awful border. He was becoming immaterial like an apparition;his cheekbones rose, the forehead slanted more; the face was allhollows, patches of shade; and the fleshless head resembled adisinterred black skull, fitted with two restless globes of silver inthe sockets of eyes. He was demoralising. Through him we were becominghighly humanised, tender, complex, ' excessively decadent: we understoodthe subtlety of his fear, sympathised with all his repulsions, shrinkings, evasions, delusions--as though we had been over-civilised, and rotten, and without any knowledge of the meaning of life. We had theair of being initiated in some infamous mysteries; we had the profoundgrimaces of conspirators, exchanged meaning glances, significant shortwords. We were inexpressibly vile and very much pleased with ourselves. We lied to him with gravity, with emotion, with unction, as ifperforming some moral trick with a view to an eternal reward. We made achorus of affirmation to his wildest assertions, as though he had beena millionaire, a politician, or a reformer--and we a crowd of ambitiouslubbers. When we ventured to question his statements we did it afterthe manner of obsequious sycophants, to the end that his glory should beaugmented by the flattery of our dissent. He influenced the moral toneof our world as though he had it in his power to distribute honours, treasures, or pain; and he could give us nothing but his contempt. Itwas immense; it seemed to grow gradually larger, as his body day byday shrank a little more, while we looked. It was the only thing abouthim--of him--that gave the impression of durability and vigour. It livedwithin him with an unquenchable life. It spoke through the eternal poutof his black lips; it looked at us through the impertinent mournfulnessof his languid and enormous stare. We watched him intently. He seemedunwilling to move, as if distrustful of his own solidity. The slightestgesture must have disclosed to him (it could not surely be otherwise)his bodily weakness, and caused a pang of mental suffering. He was charyof movements. He lay stretched out, chin on blanket, in a kind ofsly, cautious immobility. Only his eyes roamed over faces: his eyesdisdainful, penetrating and sad. 

It was at that time that Belfast's devotion--and also hispugnacity--secured universal respect. He spent every moment of his sparetime in Jimmy's cabin. He tended him, talked to him; was as gentle asa woman, as tenderly gay as an old philanthropist, as sentimentallycareful of his nigger as a model slave-owner. But outside he wasirritable, explosive as gunpowder, sombre, suspicious, and never morebrutal than when most sorrowful. With him it was a tear and a blow:a tear for Jimmy, a blow for any one who did not seem to take ascrupulously orthodox view of Jimmy's case. We talked about nothingelse. The two Scandinavians, even, discussed the situation--but it wasimpossible to know in what spirit, because they quarrelled in theirown language. Belfast suspected one of them of irreverence, and in thisincertitude thought that there was no option but to fight them both. They became very much terrified by his truculence, and henceforthlived amongst us, dejected, like a pair of mutes. Wamibo never spokeintelligibly, but he was as smileless as an animal--seemed to know muchless about it all than the cat--and consequently was safe. Moreover, he had belonged to the chosen band of Jimmy's rescuers, and was abovesuspicion. Archie was silent generally, but often spent an hour or sotalking to Jimmy quietly with an air of proprietorship. At any time ofthe day and often through the night some man could be seen sittingon Jimmy's box. In the evening, between six and eight, the cabin wascrowded, and there was an interested group at the door. Every one staredat the nigger. 

He basked in the warmth of our interest. His eye gleamed ironically, and in a weak voice he reproached us with our cowardice. He would say, "If you fellows had stuck out for me I would be now on deck. " We hungour heads. "Yes, but if you think I am going; to let them put me inirons just to show you sport. .. . Well, no. .. . It ruins my health, thislying-up, it does. You don't care. " We were as abashed as if it hadbeen true. His superb impudence carried all before it. We would not havedared to revolt. We didn't want to, really. We wanted to keep him alivetill home--to the end of the voyage. 

Singleton as usual held aloof, appearing to scorn the insignificantevents of an ended life. Once only he came along, and unexpectedlystopped in the doorway. He peered at Jimmy in profound silence, as ifdesirous to add that black image to the crowd of Shades that peopledhis old memory. We kept very quiet, and for a long time Singleton stoodthere as though he had come by appointment to call for some one, or tosee some important event. James Wait lay perfectly still, and apparentlynot aware of the gaze scrutinising him with a steadiness full ofexpectation. There was a sense of a contest in the air. We felt theinward strain of men watching a wrestling bout. At last Jimmy withperceptible apprehension turned his head on the pillow. --"Good evening, "he said in a conciliating tone. --"H'm, " answered the old seaman, grumpily. For a moment longer he looked at Jimmy with severe fixity, then suddenly went away. It was a long time before any one spoke inthe little cabin, though we all breathed more freely as men do after anescape from some dangerous situation. We all knew the old man's ideasabout Jimmy, and nobody dared to combat them. They were unsettling, theycaused pain; and, what was worse, they might have been true for allwe knew. Only once did he condescend to explain them fully, but theimpression was lasting. He said that Jimmy was the cause of head winds. Mortally sick men--he maintained--linger till the first sight of land, and then die; and Jimmy knew that the very first land would draw hislife from him. It is so in every ship. Didn't we know it? He askedus with austere contempt: what did we know? What would we doubt next?Jimmy's desire encouraged by us and aided by Wamibo's (he was aFinn--wasn't he? Very well!) by Wamibo's spells delayed the ship in theopen sea. Only lubberly fools couldn't see it. Whoever heard of oucha run of calms and head winds? It wasn't natural. .. . We could not denythat it was strange. We felt uneasy. The common saying, "More days, moredollars, " did not give the usual comfort because the stores were runningshort. Much had been spoiled off the Cape, and we were on half allowanceof biscuit. Peas, sugar and tea had been finished long ago. Salt meatwas giving out. We had plenty of coffee but very little water to makeit with. We took up another hole in our belts and went on scraping, polishing, painting the ship from morning to night. And soon she lookedas though she had come out of a band-box; but hunger lived on board ofher. Not dead starvation, but steady, living hunger that stalked aboutthe decks, slept in the forecastle; the tormentor of waking moments, thedisturber of dreams. We looked to windward for signs of change. Everyfew hours of night and day we put her round with the hope that she wouldcome up on that tack at last! She didn't. She seemed to have forgottenthe way home; she rushed to and fro, heading northwest, heading east;she ran backwards and forwards, distracted, like a timid creature atthe foot of a wall. Sometimes, as if tired to death, she would wallowlanguidly for a day in the smooth swell of an unruffled sea. All up theswinging masts the sails thrashed furiously through the hot stillnessof the calm. We were weary, hungry, thirsty; we commenced to believeSingleton, but with unshaken fidelity dissembled to Jimmy. We spoketo him with jocose allusiveness, like cheerful accomplices in a cleverplot; but we looked to the westward over the rail with longing eyes fora sign of hope, for a sign of fair wind; even if its first breath shouldbring death to our reluctant Jimmy. In vain! The universe conspiredwith James Wait. Light airs from the northward sprang up again; the skyremained clear; and round our weariness the glittering sea, touched bythe breeze, basked voluptuously in the great sunshine, as though it hadforgotten our life and trouble. 

Donkin looked out for a fair wind along with the rest. No one knew thevenom of his thoughts now. He was silent, and appeared thinner, as ifconsumed slowly by an inward rage at the injustice of men and of fate. He was ignored by all and spoke to no one, but his hate for every mandwelt in his furtive eyes. He talked with the cook only, having somehowpersuaded the good man that he--Donkin--was a much calumniated andpersecuted person. Together they bewailed the immorality of the ship'scompany. There could be no greater criminals than we, who by our liesconspired to send the unprepared soul of a poor ignorant black manto everlasting perdition. Podmore cooked what there was to cook, remorsefully, and felt all the time that by preparing the food of suchsinners he imperilled his own salvation. As to the Captain--he hadsailed with him for seven years, now, he said, and would not havebelieved it possible that such a man. .. "Well. Well. .. There it was. .. Can't get out of it. Judgment capsized all in a minute. .. Struck in allhis pride. .. More like a sudden visitation than anything else. " Donkin, perched sullenly on the coal-locker, swung his legs and concurred. Hepaid in the coin of spurious assent for the privilege to sit in thegalley; he was disheartened and scandalised; he agreed with the cook;could find no words severe enough to criticise our conduct; and when inthe heat of reprobation he swore at us, Podmore, who would have liked toswear also if it hadn't been for his principles, pretended not tohear. So Donkin, unrebuked, cursed enough for two, cadged for matches, borrowed tobacco, and loafed for hours, very much at home, before thestove. From there he could hear us on the other side of the bulkhead, talking to Jimmy. The cook knocked the saucepans about, slammed the ovendoor, muttered prophesies of damnation for all the ship's company;and Donkin, who did not admit of any hereafter (except for purposes ofblasphemy) listened, concentrated and angry, gloating fiercely overa called-up image of infinite torment--as men gloat over the accursedimages of cruelty and revenge, of greed, and of power. .. . 

On clear evenings the silent ship, under the cold sheen of the deadmoon, took on a false aspect of passionless repose resembling the winterof the earth. Under her a long band of gold barred the black disc ofthe sea. Footsteps echoed on her quiet decks. The moonlight clung to herlike a frosted mist, and the white sails stood out in dazzling conesas of stainless snow. In the magnificence of the phantom rays the shipappeared pure like a vision of ideal beauty, illusive like a tenderdream of serene peace. And nothing in her was real, nothing was distinctand solid but the heavy shadows that filled her decks with theirunceasing and noiseless stir: the shadows darker than the night and morerestless than the thoughts of men. 

Donkin prowled spiteful and alone amongst the shadows, thinking thatJimmy too long delayed to die. That evening land had been reported fromaloft, and the master, while adjusting the tubes of the long glass, hadobserved with quiet bitterness to Mr. Baker that, after fighting our wayinch by inch to the Western Islands, there was nothing to expect nowbut a spell of calm. The sky was clear and the barometer high. The lightbreeze dropped with the sun, and an enormous stillness, forerunner ofa night without wind, descended upon the heated waters of the ocean. As long as daylight lasted, the hands collected on the forecastle-headwatched on the eastern sky the island of Flores, that rose above thelevel expanse of the sea with irregular and broken outlines like asombre ruin upon a vast and deserted plain. It was the first land seenfor nearly four months. Charley was excited, and in the midst of generalindulgence took liberties with his betters. Men strangely elated withoutknowing why, talked in groups, and pointed with bared arms. For thefirst time that voyage Jimmy's sham existence seemed for a momentforgotten in the face of a solid reality. We had got so far anyhow. Belfast discoursed, quoting imaginary examples of short homeward runsfrom the Islands. "Them smart fruit schooners do it in five days, "he affirmed. "What do you want?--only a good little breeze. " Archiemaintained that seven days was the record passage, and they disputedamicably with insulting words. Knowles declared he could already smellhome from there, and with a heavy list on his short leg laughed fit tosplit his sides. A group of grizzled sea-dogs looked out for a time insilence and with grim absorbed faces. One said suddenly--"'Tain't farto London now. "--"My first night ashore, blamme if I haven't steak andonions for supper. .. And a pint of bitter, " said another. --"A barrel yemean, " shouted someone. --"Ham an' eggs three times a day. That's the wayI live!" cried an excited voice. There was a stir, appreciative murmurs;eyes began to shine; jaws champed; short, nervous laughs were heard. Archie smiled with reserve all to himself. Singleton came up, gave acareless glance, and went down again without saying a word, indifferent, like a man who had seen Flores an incalculable number of times. Thenight travelling from the East blotted out of the limpid sky the purplestain of the high land. "Dead calm, " said somebody quietly. The murmurof lively talk suddenly wavered, died out; the clusters broke up; menbegan to drift away one by one, descending the ladders slowly and withserious faces as if sobered by that reminder of their dependence uponthe invisible. And when the big yellow moon ascended gently abovethe sharp rim of the clear horizon it found the ship wrapped up in abreathless silence; a fearless ship that seemed to sleep profoundly, dreamlessly on the bosom of the sleeping and terrible sea. 

Donkin chafed at the peace--at the ship--at the sea that stretching awayon all sides merged into the illimitable silence of all creation. Hefelt himself pulled up sharp by unrecognised grievances. He had beenphysically cowed, but his injured dignity remained indomitable, andnothing could heal his lacerated feelings. Here was land already--homevery soon--a bad pay-day--no clothes--more hard work. How offensive allthis was. Land. The land that draws away life from sick sailors. Thatnigger there had money--clothes--easy times; and would not die. Landdraws life away. .. . He felt tempted to go and see whether it did. Perhaps already. . It would be a bit of luck. There was money inthe beggar's chest. He stepped briskly out of the shadows into themoonlight, and, instantly, his craving, hungry face from sallow becamelivid. He opened the door of the cabin and had a shock. Sure enough, Jimmy was dead! He moved no more than a recumbent figure with claspedhands, carved on the lid of a stone coffin. Donkin glared with avidity. Then Jimmy, without stirring, blinked his eyelids, and Donkin hadanother shock. Those eyes were rather startling. He shut the door behindhis back with gentle care, looking intently the while at James Waitas though he had come in there at a great risk to tell some secret ofstartling im-portance. Jimmy did not move but glanced languidly out ofthe corners of his eyes. --"Calm?" he asked. --"Yuss, " said Donkin, verydisappointed, and sat down on the box. 

Jimmy was used to such visits at all times of night of day. Mensucceeded one another. They spoke in clear voices, pronounced cheerfulwords, repeated old jokes, listened to him; and each, going out, seemedto leave behind a little of his own vitality, surrender some of his ownstrength, renew the assurance of life--the indestructible thing! He didnot like to be alone in his cabin, because, when he was alone, it seemedto him as if he hadn't been there at all. There was nothing. No pain. Not now. Perfectly right--but he couldn't enjoy his healthful reposeunless some one was by to see it. This man would do as well as anybody. Donkin watched him stealthily:--"Soon home now, " observed Wait. --"Vyd'yer whisper?" asked Donkin with interest, "can't yer speak up?"Jimmy looked annoyed and said nothing for a while; then in alifeless, unringing voice:--"Why should I shout? You ain't deaf that Iknow. "--"Oh! I can 'ear right enough, " answered Donkin in a low tone, and looked down. He was thinking sadly of going out when Jimmy spokeagain. --"Time we did get home. .. To get something decent to eat. .. I amalways hungry. " Donkin felt angry all of a sudden. --"What about me, "he hissed, "I am 'ungry too an' got ter work. You, 'ungry!"--"Your workwon't kill you, " commented Wait, feebly; "there's a couple of biscuitsin the lower bunk there--you may have one. I can't eat them. " Donkindived in, groped in the corner and when he came up again his mouthwas full. He munched with ardour. Jimmy seemed to doze with open eyes. Donkin finished his hard bread and got up. --"You're not going?" askedJimmy, staring at the ceiling. --"No, " said Donkin, impulsively, andinstead of going out leaned his back against the closed door. He lookedat James Wait, and saw him long, lean, dried up, as though all his fleshhad shrivelled on his bones in the heat of a white furnace; the meagrefingers of one hand moved lightly upon the edge of the bunk playing anendless tune. To look at him was irritating and fatiguing; he could lastlike this for days; he was outrageous--belonging wholly neither to deathnor life, and perfectly invulnerable in his apparent ignorance of both. Donkin felt tempted to enlighten him. --"What are yer thinkin' of?" heasked, surlily. James Wait had a grimacing smile that passed over thedeathlike impassiveness of his bony face, incredible and frightful aswould, in a dream, have been the sudden smile of a corpse. 

"There is a girl, " whispered Wait. .. . "Canton Street girl. ------Shechucked a third engineer of a Rennie boat------for me. Cooksoysters just as I like. .. She says------she would chuck------anytoff------louder. "

Donkin could hardly believe his ears. He was scandalised--"Would she?Yer wouldn't be any good to 'er, " he said with unrestrained disgust. Wait was not there to hear him. He was swaggering up the East IndiaDock Road; saying kindly, "Come along for a treat, " pushing glassswing-doors, posing with superb assurance in the gaslight above amahogany counter. --"D'yer think yer will ever get ashore?" asked Donkin, angrily. Wait came back with a start. --"Ten days, " he said, promptly, and returned at once to the regions of memory that know nothing of time. He felt untired, calm, and safely withdrawn within himself beyond thereach of every grave incertitude. There was something of the immutablequality of eternity in the slow moments of his complete rest-fulness. Hewas very quiet and easy amongst his vivid reminiscences which he mistookjoyfully for images of an undoubted future. He cared for no one. Donkinfelt this vaguely like a blind man feeling in his darkness the fatalantagonism of all the surrounding existences, that to him shall for everremain irrealisable, unseen and enviable. He had a desire to asserthis importance, to break, to crush; to be even with everybody foreverything; to tear the veil, unmask, expose, leave no refuge--aperfidious desire of truthfulness! He laughed in a mocking splutter andsaid:

"Ten days. Strike me blind if lever!. .. You will be dead by this timeto-morrow p'r'aps. Ten days!" He waited for a while. "D'ye 'ear me?Blamme if yer don't look dead already. "

Wait must have been collecting his strength, for he said almostaloud--"You're a stinking, cadging liar. Every one knows you. " Andsitting up, against all probability, startled his visitor horribly. Butvery soon Donkin recovered himself. He blustered, "What? What? Who's aliar? You are--the crowd are--the skipper--everybody. I ain't! Puttingon airs! Who's yer?" He nearly choked himself with indignation. "Who'syer to put on airs, " he repeated, trembling. "'Ave one--'ave one, says'ee--an' cawn't eat 'em 'isself. Now I'll 'ave both. By Gawd--I will!Yer nobody!"

He plunged into the lower bunk, rooted in there and brought to lightanother dusty biscuit. He held it up before Jimmy--then took a bitedefiantly. 

"What now?" he asked with feverish impudence. "Yer may take one--saysyer. Why not giv' me both? No. I'm a mangy dorg. One fur a mangy dorg. I'll tyke both. Can yer stop me? Try. Come on. Try. "

Jimmy was clasping his legs and hiding his face on the knees. His shirtclung to him. Every rib was visible. His emaciated back was shaken inrepeated jerks by the panting catches of his breath. 

"Yer won't? Yer can't! What did I say?" went on Donkin, fiercely. Heswallowed another dry mouthful with a hasty effort. The other's silenthelplessness, his weakness, his shrinking attitude exasperated him. "Ye're done!" he cried. "Who's yer to be lied to; to be waited on 'andan' foot like a bloomin' ymperor. Yer nobody. Yer no one at all!" hespluttered with such a strength of unerring conviction that it shook himfrom head to foot in coming out, and left him vibrating like a releasedstring. 

James Wait rallied again. He lifted his head and turned bravely atDonkin, who saw a strange face, an unknown face, a fantastic andgrimacing mask of despair and fury. Its lips moved rapidly; and hollow, moaning, whistling sounds filled the cabin with a vague mutter full ofmenace, complaint and desolation, like the far-off murmur of arising wind. Wait shook his head; rolled his eyes; he denied, cursed, threatened--and not a word had the strength to pass beyond the sorrowfulpout of those black lips. It was incomprehensible and disturbing;a gibberish of emotions, a frantic dumb show of speech pleading forimpossible things, promising a shadowy vengeance. It sobered Donkin intoa scrutinising watchfulness. 

"Yer can't oller. See? What did I tell yer?" he said, slowly, after amoment of attentive examination. The other kept on headlong and unheard, nodding passionately, grinning with grotesque and appalling flashesof big white teeth. Donkin, as if fascinated by the dumb eloquence andanger of that black phantom, approached, stretching his neck out withdistrustful curiosity; and it seemed to him suddenly that he was lookingonly at the shadow of a man crouching high in the bunk on the level withhis eyes. --"What? What?" he said. He seemed to catch the shape of somewords in the continuous panting hiss. "Yer will tell Belfast! Will yer?Are yer a bloomin' kid?" He trembled with alarm and rage, "Tell yergran'mother! Yer afeard! Who's yer ter be afeard more'n any one?" Hispassionate sense of his own importance ran away with a last remnant ofcaution. "Tell an' be damned! Tell, if yer can!" he cried. "I've beentreated worser'n a dorg by your blooming back-lickers. They 'as set meon, only to turn aginst me. I am the only man 'ere. They clouted me, kicked me--an' yer laffed--yer black, rotten incumbrance, you! You willpay fur it. They giv' yer their grub, their water--yer will pay fur itto me, by Gawd! Who axed me ter 'ave a drink of water? They put theirbloomin' rags on yer that night, an' what did they giv' ter me--a clouton the bloomin' mouth--blast their. .. S'elp me!. .. Yer will pay fur itwith yer money. I'm goin' ter 'ave it in a minyte; as soon has ye'redead, yer bloomin' useless fraud. That's the man I am. An' ye're athing--a bloody thing. Yah--you corpse!" He flung at Jimmy's head thebiscuit he had been all the time clutching hard, but it only grazed, andstriking with a loud crack the bulkhead beyond burst like a hand-grenadeinto flying pieces. James Wait, as if wounded mortally, fell back on thepillow. His lips ceased to move and the rolling eyes became quietand stared upwards with an intense and steady persistence. Donkin wassurprised; he sat suddenly on the chest, and looked down, exhaustedand gloomy. After a moment, he began to mutter to himself, "Die, youbeggar--die. Somebody'll come in. .. I wish I was drunk. .. Ten days. .. Oysters. .. " He looked up and spoke louder. "No. .. No more for yer. .. Nomore bloomin' gals that cook oysters. .. Who's yer? It's my turn now. .. Iwish I was drunk; I would soon giv' you a leg up. That's where yer boundto go. Feet fust, through a port. .. Splash! Never see yer any more. Overboard! Good 'nuff fur yer. " Jimmy's head moved slightly and heturned his eyes to Donkin's face; a gaze unbelieving, desolated andappealing, of a child frightened by the menace of being shut up alonein the dark. Donkin observed him from the chest with hopeful eyes; then, without rising, tried the lid. Locked. "I wish I was drunk, " he mutteredand getting up listened anxiously to the distant sound of footsteps onthe deck. They approached--ceased. Some one yawned interminably justoutside the door, and the footsteps went away shuffling lazily. Donkin'sfluttering heart eased its pace, and when he looked towards the bunkagain Jimmy was staring as before at the white beam. --"'Ow d'yer feelnow?" he asked. --"Bad, " breathed out Jimmy. 

Donkin sat down patient and purposeful. Every half-hour the bells spoketo one another ringing along the whole length of the ship. Jimmy'srespiration was so rapid that it couldn't be counted, so faint that itcouldn't be heard. His eyes were terrified as though he had been lookingat unspeakable horrors; and by his face one could see that he wasthinking of abominable things. Suddenly with an incredibly strong andheartbreaking voice he sobbed out:

"Overboard!. .. I!. .. My God!" Donkin writhed a little on the box. He looked unwillingly. James Wait was mute. His two long bony handssmoothed the blanket upwards, as though he had wished to gather it allup under his chin. A tear, a big solitary tear, escaped from the cornerof his eye and, without touching the hollow cheek, fell on the pillow. His throat rattled faintly. 

And Donkin, watching the end of that hateful nigger, felt the anguishinggrasp of a great sorrow on his heart at the thought that he himself, some day, would have to go through it all--just like this--perhaps! Hiseyes became moist. "Poor beggar, " he murmured. The night seemed to goby in a flash; it seemed to him he could hear the irremediable rush ofprecious minutes. How long would this blooming affair last? Too longsurely. No luck. He could not restrain himself. He got up and approachedthe bunk. Wait did not stir. Only his eyes appeared alive and hishands continued their smoothing movement with a horrible and tirelessindustry. Donkin bent over. 

"Jimmy, " he called low. There was no answer, but the rattle stopped. "D'yer see me?" he asked, trembling. Jimmy's chest heaved. Donkin, looking away, bent his ear to Jimmy's lips, and heard a sound like therustle of a single dry leaf driven along the smooth sand of a beach. Itshaped itself. 

"Light. .. The lamp. .. And. .. Go, " breathed out Wait. 

Donkin, instinctively, glanced over his shoulder at the brilliant flame;then, still looking away, felt under the pillow for a key. He got itat once and for the next few minutes remained on his knees shakily butswiftly busy inside the box. When he got up, his face--for the firsttime in his life--had a pink flush--perhaps of triumph. 

He slipped the key under the pillow again, avoiding to glance at Jimmy, who had not moved. He turned his back squarely from the bunk, andstarted to the door as though he were going to walk a mile. At hissecond stride he had his nose against it. He clutched the handlecautiously, but at that moment he received the irresistible impressionof something happening behind his back. He spun round as though he hadbeen tapped on the shoulder. He was just in time to see Wait's eyesblaze up and go out at once, like two lamps overturned together by asweeping blow. Something resembling a scarlet thread hung down his chinout of the corner of his lips--and he had ceased to breathe. 

Donkin closed the door behind him gently but firmly. Sleeping men, huddled under jackets, made on the lighted deck shapeless dark moundsthat had the appearance of neglected graves. Nothing had been done allthrough the night and he hadn't been missed. He stood motionless andperfectly astounded to find the world outside as he had left it; therewas the sea, the ship--sleeping men; and he wondered absurdly at it, asthough he had expected to find the men dead, familiar things gone forever: as though, like a wanderer returning after many years, he hadexpected to see bewildering changes. He shuddered a little in thepenetrating freshness of the air, and hugged himself forlornly. Thedeclining moon drooped sadly in the western board as if withered bythe cold touch of a pale dawn. The ship slept. And the immortal seastretched away immense and hazy, like the image of life, with aglittering surface and lightless depths. Donkin gave it a defiantglance and slunk off noiselessly as if judged and cast out by the augustsilence of its might. 

Jimmy's death, after all, came as a tremendous surprise. We did not knowtill then how much faith we had put in his delusions. We had taken hischances of life so much at his own valuation that his death, like thedeath of an old belief, shook the foundations of our society. Acommon bond was gone; the strong, effective and respectable bond ofa sentimental he. All that day we mooned at our work, with suspiciouslooks and a disabused air. In our hearts we thought that in the matterof his departure Jimmy had acted in a perverse and unfriendly manner. He didn't back us up, as a shipmate should. In going he took away withhimself the gloomy and solemn shadow in which our folly had posed, withhumane satisfaction, as a tender arbiter of fate. And now we saw it wasno such thing. It was just common foolishness; a silly and ineffectualmeddling with issues of majestic import--that is, if Podmore was right. Perhaps he was? Doubt survived Jimmy; and, like a community of bandedcriminals disintegrated by a touch of grace, we were profoundlyscandalised with each other. Men spoke unkindly to their best chums. Others refused to speak at all. Singleton only was not surprised. "Dead--is he? Of course, " he said, pointing at the island right abeam:for the calm still held the ship spell-bound within sight of Flores. Dead--of course. _He_ wasn't surprised. Here was the land, and there, on the fore-hatch and waiting for the sailmaker--there was that corpse. Cause and effect. And for the first time that voyage, the old seamanbecame quite cheery and garrulous, explaining and illustrating from thestores of experience how, in sickness, the sight of an island (even avery small one) is generally more fatal than the view of a continent. But he couldn't explain why. 

Jimmy was to be buried at five, and it was a long day till then--a dayof mental disquiet and even of physical disturbance. We took no interestin our work and, very properly, were rebuked for it. This, in ourconstant state of hungry irritation, was exasperating. Donkin workedwith his brow bound in a dirty rag, and looked so ghastly that Mr. Baker was touched with compassion at the sight of this pluckysuffering. --"Ough! You, Donkin! Put down your work and go lay-up thiswatch. You look ill. "--"I am bad, sir--in my 'ead, " he said in a subduedvoice, and vanished speedily. This annoyed many, and they thought themate "bloomin' soft to-day. " Captain Allistoun could be seen on the poopwatching the sky to the southwest, and it soon got to be known aboutthe decks that the barometer had begun to fall in the night, and that abreeze might be expected before long. This, by a subtle associationof ideas, led to violent quarrelling as to the exact moment of Jimmy'sdeath. Was it before or after "that 'ere glass started down?" It wasimpossible to know, and it caused much contemptuous growling at oneanother. All of a sudden there was a great tumult forward. PacificKnowles and good-tempered Davis had come to blows over it. The watchbelow interfered with spirit, and for ten minutes there was a noisyscrimmage round the hatch, where, in the balancing shade of the sails, Jimmy's body, wrapped up in a white blanket, was watched over by thesorrowful Belfast, who, in his desolation, disdained the fray. When thenoise had ceased, and the passions had calmed into surly silence, hestood up at the head of the swathed body, lifting both arms onhigh, cried with pained indignation:--"You ought to be ashamed ofyourselves!. .. " We were. 

Belfast took his bereavement very hard. He gave proofs ofunextinguishable devotion. It was he, and no other man, who would helpthe sailmaker to prepare what was left of Jimmy for a solemn surrenderto the insatiable sea. He arranged the weights carefully at the feet:two holystones, an old anchor-shackle without its pin, some broken linksof a worn-out stream cable. He arranged them this way, then that. "Blessmy soul! you aren't afraid he will chafe his heel?" said the sailmaker, who hated the job. He pushed the needle, purring furiously, with hishead in a cloud of tobacco smoke; he turned the flaps over, pulled atthe stitches, stretched at the canvas. --"Lift his shoulders. .. . Pullto you a bit. .. . So--o--o. Steady. " Belfast obeyed, pulled, lifted, overcome with sorrow, dropping tears on the tarred twine. --. "Don'tyou drag the canvas too taut over his poor face, Sails, " he entreated, tearfully. --"What are you fashing yourself for? He will be comfortableenough, " assured the sailmaker, cutting the thread after the laststitch, which came about the middle of Jimmy's forehead. He rolled upthe remaining canvas, put away the needles. "What makes you take on so?"he asked. Belfast looked down at the long package of grey sailcloth. --"Ipulled him out, " he whispered, "and he did not want to go. If I had satup with him last night he would have kept alive for me. .. But somethingmade me tired. " The sailmaker took vigorous draws at his pipe andmumbled:--"When I. .. West India Station. .. In the _Blanche_ frigate. .. Yellow Jack. .. Sewed in twenty men a week. .. Portsmouth-Devon-portmen--townies--knew their fathers, mothers, sisters--the whole boiling of'em. Thought nothing of it. And these niggers like this one--you don'tknow where it comes from. Got nobody. No use to nobody. Who will misshim?"--"I do--I pulled him out, " mourned Belfast dismally. 

On two planks nailed together and apparently resigned and still underthe folds of the Union Jack with a white border, James Wait, carriedaft by four men, was deposited slowly, with his feet pointing at an openport. A swell had set in from the westward, and following on the roll ofthe ship, the red ensign, at half-mast, darted out and collapsed againon the grey sky, like a tongue of flickering fire; Charley tolled thebell; and at every swing to starboard the whole vast semi-circle ofsteely waters visible on that side seemed to come up with a rush to theedge of the port, as if impatient to get at our Jimmy. Every one wasthere but Donkin, who was too ill to come; the Captain and Mr. Creightonstood bareheaded on the break of the poop; Mr. Baker, directed by themaster, who had said to him gravely:--"You know more about the prayerbook than I do, " came out of the cabin door quickly and a littleembarrassed. All the caps went off. He began to read in a low tone, andwith his usual harmlessly menacing utterance, as though he had been forthe last time reproving confidentially that dead seaman at his feet. Themen listened in scattered groups; they leaned on the fife rail, gazingon the deck; they held their chins in their hands thoughtfully, or, withcrossed arms and one knee slightly bent, hung their heads in an attitudeof upright meditation. Wamibo dreamed. Mr. Baker read on, gruntingreverently at the turn of every page. The words, missing the unsteadyhearts of men, rolled out to wander without a home upon the heartlesssea; and James Wait, silenced for ever, lay uncritical and passive underthe hoarse murmur of despair and hopes. 

Two men made ready and waited for those words that send so many of ourbrothers to their last plunge. Mr. Baker began the passage. "Stand by, "muttered the boatswain. Mr. Baker read out: "To the deep, " and paused. The men lifted the inboard end of the planks, the boatswain snatchedoff the Union Jack, and James Wait did not move. --"Higher, " mutteredthe boatswain angrily. All the heads were raised; every man stirreduneasily, but James Wait gave no sign of going. In death and swathed upfor all eternity, he yet seemed to cling to the ship with the grip ofan undying fear. "Higher! Lift!" whispered the boatswain, fiercely. --"Hewon't go, " stammered one of the men, shakily, and both appeared readyto drop everything. Mr. Baker waited, burying his face in the book, andshuffling his feet nervously. All the men looked profoundly disturbed;from their midst a faint humming noise spread out--growing louder. .. . "Jimmy!" cried Belfast in a wailing tone, and there was a second ofshuddering dismay. 

"Jimmy, be a man!" he shrieked, passionately. Every mouth was wide open, not an eyelid winked. He stared wildly, twitching all over; he benthis body forward like a man peering at an horror. "Go!" he shouted, andsprang out of the crowd with his arm extended. "Go, Jimmy!--Jimmy, go!Go!" His fingers touched the head of the body, and the grey packagestarted reluctantly to whizz off the lifted planks all at once, with thesuddenness of a flash of lightning. The crowd stepped forward like oneman; a deep Ah--h--h! came out vibrating from the broad chests. The shiprolled as if relieved of an unfair burden; the sails flapped. Belfast, supported by Archie, gasped hysterically; and Charley, who anxious tosee Jimmy's last dive, leaped headlong on the rail, was too late to seeanything but the faint circle of a vanishing ripple. 

Mr. Baker, perspiring abundantly, read out the last prayer in a deeprumour of excited men and fluttering sails. "Amen!" he said in anunsteady growl, and closed the book. 

"Square the yards!" thundered a voice above his head. All hands gave ajump; one or two dropped their caps; Mr. Baker looked up surprised. The master, standing on the break of the poop, pointed to the westward. "Breeze coming, " he said, "Man the weather braces. " Mr. Baker crammedthe book hurriedly into his pocket. "Forward, there--let go theforetack!" he hailed joyfully, bareheaded and brisk; "Square theforeyard, you port-watch!"--"Fair wind--fair wind, " muttered the mengoing to the braces. --"What did I tell you?" mumbled old Singleton, flinging down coil after coil with hasty energy; "I knowed it--he'sgone, and here it comes. "

It came with the sound of a lofty and powerful sigh. The sails filled, the ship gathered way, and the waking sea began to murmur sleepily ofhome to the ears of men. 

That night, while the ship rushed foaming to the Northward before afreshening gale, the boatswain unbosomed himself to the petty officers'berth:--"The chap was nothing but trouble, " he said, "from the momenthe came aboard--d'ye remember--that night in Bombay? Been bullying allthat softy crowd--cheeked the old man--we had to go fooling all over ahalf-drowned ship to save him. Dam' nigh a mutiny all for him--and nowthe mate abused me like a pickpocket for forgetting to dab a lump ofgrease on them planks. So I did, but you ought to have known better, too, than to leave a nail sticking up--hey, Chips?"

"And you ought to have known better than to chuck all my tools overboardfor 'im, like a skeary greenhorn, " retorted the morose carpenter. "Well--he's gone after 'em now, " he added in an unforgiving tone. --"Onthe China Station, I remember once, the Admiral he says to me. .. " beganthe sailmaker. 

A week afterwards the _Narcissus_ entered the chops of the Channel. 

Under white wings she skimmed low over the blue sea like a great tiredbird speeding to its nest. The clouds raced with her mastheads; theyrose astern enormous and white, soared to the zenith, flew past, andfalling down the wide curve of the sky, seemed to dash headlong into thesea--the clouds swifter than the ship, more free, but without a home. The coast to welcome her stepped out of space into the sunshine. Thelofty headlands trod masterfully into the sea; the wide bays smiled inthe light; the shadows of homeless clouds ran along the sunny plains, leaped over valleys, without a check darted up the hills, rolled downthe slopes; and the sunshine pursued them with patches of runningbrightness. On the brows of dark cliffs white lighthouses shone inpillars of light. The Channel glittered like a blue mantle shot withgold and starred by the silver of the capping seas. The _Narcissus_rushed past the headlands and the bays. Outward-bound vessels crossedher track, lying over, and with their masts stripped for a sloggingfight with the hard sou'wester. And, inshore, a string of smokingsteamboats waddled, hugging the coast, like migrating and amphibiousmonsters, distrustful of the restless waves. 

At night the headlands retreated, the bays advanced into one unbrokenline of gloom. The lights of the earth mingled with the lights ofheaven; and above the tossing lanterns of a trawling fleet a greatlighthouse shone steadily, like an enormous riding light burning abovea vessel of fabulous dimensions. Below its steady glow, the coast, stretching away straight and black, resembled the high side of anindestructible craft riding motionless upon the immortal and unrestingsea. The dark land lay alone in the midst of waters, like a mighty shipbestarred with vigilant lights--a ship carrying the burden of millionsof lives--a ship freighted with dross and with jewels, with gold andwith steel. She towered up immense and strong, guarding pricelesstraditions and untold suffering, sheltering glorious memories and baseforgetfulness, ignoble virtues and splendid transgressions. A greatship! For ages had the ocean battered in vain her enduring sides; shewas there when the world was vaster and darker, when the sea was greatand mysterious, and ready to surrender the prize of fame to audaciousmen. A ship mother of fleets and nations! The great flagship of therace; stronger than the storms! and anchored in the open sea. 

The _Narcissus_, heeling over to off-shore gusts, rounded the SouthForeland, passed through the Downs, and, in tow, entered the river. Shorn of the glory of her white wings, she wound obediently after thetug through the maze of invisible channels. As she passed them thered-painted light-vessels, swung at their moorings, seemed for aninstant to sail with great speed in the rush of tide, and the nextmoment were left hopelessly behind. The big buoys on the tails of banksslipped past her sides very low, and, dropping in her wake, tugged attheir chains like fierce watchdogs. The reach narrowed; from both sidesthe land approached the ship. She went steadily up the river. On theriverside slopes the houses appeared in groups--seemed to stream downthe declivities at a run to see her pass, and, checked by the mud of theforeshore, crowded on the banks. Further on, the tall factory chimneysappeared in insolent bands and watched her go by, like a stragglingcrowd of slim giants, swaggering and upright under the black plummetsof smoke, cavalierly aslant. She swept round the bends; an impure breezeshrieked a welcome between her stripped spars; and the land, closing in, stepped between the ship and the sea. 

A low cloud hung before her--a great opalescent and tremulous cloud, that seemed to rise from the steaming brows of millions of men. Longdrifts of smoky vapours soiled it with livid trails; it throbbed to thebeat of millions of hearts, and from it came an immense and lamentablemurmur--the murmur of millions of lips praying, cursing, sighing, jeering--the undying murmur of folly, regret, and hope exhaled by thecrowds of the anxious earth. The _Narcissus_ entered the cloud; theshadows deepened; on all sides there was the clang of iron, the soundof mighty blows, shrieks, yells. Black barges drifted stealthily on themurky stream. A mad jumble of begrimed walls loomed up vaguely in thesmoke, bewildering and mournful, like a vision of disaster. Thetugs backed and filled in the stream, to hold the ship steady at thedock-gates; from her bows two lines went through the air whistling, andstruck at the land viciously, like a pair of snakes. A bridge broke intwo before her, as if by enchantment; big hydraulic capstans began toturn all by themselves, as though animated by a mysterious and unholyspell. She moved through a narrow lane of water between two low wallsof granite, and men with check-ropes in their hands kept pace with her, walking on the broad flagstones. A group waited impatiently on each sideof the vanished bridge: rough heavy men in caps; sallow-faced men inhigh hats; two bareheaded women; ragged children, fascinated, and withwide eyes. A cart coming at a jerky trot pulled up sharply. One of thewomen screamed at the silent ship--"Hallo, Jack!" without looking atany one in particular, and all hands looked at her from the forecastlehead. --"Stand clear! Stand clear of that rope!" cried the dockmen, bending over stone posts. The crowd murmured, stamped where theystood. --"Let go your quarter-checks! Let go!" sang out a ruddy-faced oldman on the quay. The ropes splashed heavily falling in the water, andthe _Narcissus_ entered the dock. 

The stony shores ran away right and left in straight lines, enclosinga sombre and rectangular pool. Brick walls rose high above thewater!--soulless walls, staring through hundreds of windows as troubledand dull as the eyes of over-fed brutes. At their base monstrous ironcranes crouched, with chains hanging from their long necks, balancingcruel-looking hooks over the decks of lifeless ships. A noise of wheelsrolling over stones, the thump of heavy things falling, the racket offeverish winches, the grinding of strained chains, floated on the air. Between high buildings the dust of all the continents soared in shortflights; and a penetrating smell of perfumes and dirt, of spices andhides, of things costly and of things filthy, pervaded the space, madefor it an atmosphere precious and disgusting. The _Narcissus_ camegently into her berth; the shadows of soulless walls fell upon her, thedust of all the continents leaped upon her deck, and a swarm of strangemen, clambering up her sides, took possession of her in the name of thesordid earth. She had ceased to live. 

A toff in a black coat and high hat scrambled with agility, came up tothe second mate, shook hands, and said:--"Hallo, Herbert. " It was hisbrother. A lady appeared suddenly. A real lady, in a black dress andwith a parasol. She looked extremely elegant in the midst of us, and asstrange as if she had fallen there from the sky. Mr. Baker touched hiscap to her. It was the master's wife. And very soon the Captain, dressedvery smartly and in a white shirt, went with her over the side. Wedidn't recognise him at all till, turning on the quay, he called to Mr. Baker:--"Don't forget to wind up the chronometers to-morrow morning. "An underhand lot of seedy-looking chaps with shifty eyes wandered in andout of the forecastle looking for a job--they said. --"More likely forsomething to steal, " commented Knowles, cheerfully. Poor beggars. Whocared? Weren't we home! But Mr. Baker went for one of them who had givenhim some cheek, and we were delighted. Everything was delightful. --"I'vefinished aft, sir, " called out Mr. Creighton. --"No water in the well, sir, " reported for the last time the carpenter, sounding-rod in hand. Mr. Baker glanced along the decks at the expectant group of sailors, glanced aloft at the yards. --"Ough! That will do, men, " he grunted. Thegroup broke up. The voyage was ended. 

Rolled-up beds went flying over the rail; lashed chests went slidingdown the gangway--mighty few of both at that. "The rest is having acruise off the Cape, " explained Knowles enigmatically to a dock-loaferwith whom he had struck a sudden friendship. Men ran, calling to oneanother, hailing utter strangers to "lend a hand with the dunnage, "then with sudden decorum approached the mate to shake hands before goingashore. --"Good-bye, sir, " they repeated in various tones. Mr. Bakergrasped hard palms, grunted in a friendly manner at every one, his eyestwinkled. --"Take care of your money, Knowles. Ough! Soon get a nice wifeif you do. " The lame man was delighted. --"Good-bye, sir, " said Belfast, with emotion, wringing the mate's hand, and looked up with swimmingeyes. "I thought I would take 'im ashore with me, " he went on, plaintively. Mr. Baker did not understand, but said kindly:--"Takecare of yourself, Craik, " and the bereaved Belfast went over the railmourning and alone. 

Mr. Baker, in the sudden peace of the ship, moved about solitary andgrunting, trying door-handles, peering into dark places, never done--amodel chief mate! No one waited for him ashore. Mother dead; father andtwo brothers, Yarmouth fishermen, drowned together on the Dogger Bank;sister married and unfriendly. Quite a lady. Married to the leadingtailor of a little town, and its leading politician, who did not thinkhis sailor brother-in-law quite respectable enough for him. Quite alady, quite a lady, he thought, sitting down for a moment's rest on thequarter-hatch. Time enough to go ashore and get a bite and sup, and abed somewhere. He didn't like to part with a ship. No one to think aboutthen. The darkness of a misty evening fell, cold and damp, upon thedeserted deck; and Mr. Baker sat smoking, thinking of all the successiveships to whom through many long years he had given the best of aseaman's care. And never a command in sight. Not once!--"I haven'tsomehow the cut of a skipper about me, " he meditated, placidly, whilethe shipkeeper (who had taken possession of the galley), a wizenedold man with bleared eyes, cursed him in whispers for "hanging aboutso. "--"Now, Creighton, " he pursued the unenvious train of thought, "quite a gentleman. .. Swell friends. .. Will get on. Fine young fellow. .. A little more experience. " He got up and shook himself. "I'll be backfirst thing to-morrow morning for the hatches. Don't you let them touchanything before I come, shipkeeper, " he called out. Then, at last, healso went ashore--a model chief mate!

The men scattered by the dissolving contact of the land came togetheronce more in the shipping office. ---"The _Narcissus_ pays off, " shoutedoutside a glazed door a brass-bound old fellow with a crown and thecapitals B. T. On his cap. A lot trooped in at once but many were late. The room was large, white-washed, and bare; a counter surmounted by abrass-wire grating fenced off a third of the dusty space, and behind thegrating a pasty-faced clerk, with his hair parted in the middle, hadthe quick, glittering eyes and the vivacious, jerky movements of a cagedbird. Poor Captain Allistoun also in there, and sitting before a littletable with piles of gold and notes on it, appeared subdued by hiscaptivity. Another Board of Trade bird was perching on a high stool nearthe door: an old bird that did not mind the chaff of elated sailors. Thecrew of the _Narcissus_, broken up into knots, pushed in the corners. They had new shore togs, smart jackets that looked as if they hadbeen shaped with an axe, glossy trousers that seemed made of crumpledsheet-iron, collarless flannel shirts, shiny new boots. They tapped onshoulders, button-holed one another, asked:--> "Where did you sleep lastnight?" whispered gaily, slapped their thighs with bursts of subduedlaughter. Most had clean, radiant faces; only one or two turned updishevelled and sad; the two-young Norwegians looked tidy, meek, andaltogether of a promising material for the kind ladies who patronisethe Scandinavian Home. Wamibo, still in his working clothes, dreamed, upright and burly in the middle of the room, and, when Archie came in, woke up for a smile. But the wide-awake clerk called out a name, and thepaying-off business began. 

One by one they came up to the pay-table to get the wages of theirglorious and obscure toil. They swept the money with care into broadpalms, rammed it trustfully into trousers' pockets, or, turning theirbacks on the table, reckoned with difficulty in the hollow of theirstiff hands. --"Money right? Sign the release. There--there, " repeatedthe clerk, impatiently. "How stupid those sailors are!" he thought. Singleton came up, venerable--and uncertain as to daylight; browndrops of tobacco juice hung in his white beard; his hands, that neverhesitated in the great light of the open sea, could hardly find thesmall pile of gold in the profound darkness of the shore. "Can't write?"said the clerk, shocked. "Make a mark, then. " Singleton painfullysketched in a heavy cross, blotted the page. "What a disgusting oldbrute, " muttered the clerk. Somebody opened the door for him, and thepatriarchal seaman passed through unsteadily, without as much as aglance at any of us. 

Archie displayed a pocket-book. He was chaffed. Belfast, who lookedwild, as though he had already luffed up through a public-house or two, gave signs of emotion and wanted to speak to the Captain privately. Themaster was surprised. They spoke through the wires, and we could hearthe Captain saying:--"I've given it up to the Board of Trade. " "I should've liked to get something of his, " mumbled Belfast. "But you can't, my man. It's given up, locked and sealed, to the Marine Office, "expostulated the master; and Belfast stood back, with drooping mouth andtroubled eyes. In a pause of the business we heard the master and theclerk talking. We caught: "James Wait--deceased--found no papers ofany kind--no relations--no trace--the Office must hold his wages then. "Donkin entered. He seemed out of breath, was grave, full of business. He went straight to the desk, talked with animation to the clerk, whothought him an intelligent man. They discussed the account, dropping h'sagainst one another as if for a wager--very friendly. Captain Allistounpaid. "I give you a bad discharge, " he said, quietly. Donkin raised hisvoice:--"I don't want your bloomin' discharge--keep it. I'm goin' ter'ave a job ashore. " He turned to us. "No more bloomin' sea fur me, " hesaid, aloud. All looked at him. He had better clothes, had an easy air, appeared more at home than any of us; he stared with assurance, enjoyingthe effect of his declaration. "Yuss. I 'ave friends well off. That'smore'n you got. But I am a man. Yer shipmates for all that. Who's cominfur a drink?"

No one moved. There was a silence; a silence of blank faces and stonylooks. He waited a moment, smiled bitterly, and went to the door. Therehe faced round once more. "You won't? You bloomin' lot of yrpocrits. No?What 'ave I done to yer? Did I bully yer? Did I 'urt yer? Did I?. .. Youwon't drink?. .. No!. .. Then may ye die of thirst, every mother's sonof yer! Not one of yer 'as the sperrit of a bug. Ye're the scum of theworld. Work and starve!"

He went out, and slammed the door with such violence that the old Boardof Trade bird nearly fell off his perch. 

"He's mad, " declared Archie. "No! No! He's drunk, " insisted Belfast, lurching about, and in a maudlin tone. Captain Allistoun sat smilingthoughtfully at the cleared pay-table. 

Outside, on Tower Hill, they blinked, hesitated clumsily, as if blindedby the strange quality of the hazy light, as if discomposed by the viewof so many men; and they who could hear one another in the howl of galesseemed deafened and distracted by the dull roar of the busy earth. --"Tothe Black Horse! To the Black Horse!" cried some. "Let us have adrink together before we part. " They crossed the road, clinging to oneanother. Only Charley and Belfast wandered off alone. As I came up I sawa red-faced, blowsy woman, in a grey shawl, and with dusty, fluffy hair, fall on Charley's neck. It was his mother. She slobbered over him:--"O, my boy! My boy!"--"Leggo of me, " said Charley, "Leggo, mother!" Iwas passing him at the time, and over the untidy head of the blubberingwoman he gave me a humorous smile and a glance ironic, courageous, andprofound, that seemed to put all my knowledge of life to shame. I noddedand passed on, but heard him say again, good-naturedly:--"If you leggoof me this minyt--ye shall 'ave a bob for a drink out of my pay. " Inthe next few steps I came upon Belfast. He caught my arm with tremulousenthusiasm. --"I couldn't go wi' 'em, " he stammered, indicating by a nodour noisy crowd, that drifted slowly along the other sidewalk. "WhenI think of Jimmy. .. Poor Jim! When I think of him I have no heart fordrink. You were his chum, too. .. But I pulled him out. .. Didn't I? Shortwool he had. .. . Yes. And I stole the blooming pie. .. . He wouldn'tgo. .. . He wouldn't go for nobody. " He burst into tears. "I never touchedhim--never--never!" he sobbed. "He went for me like. .. Like . .. A lamb. "

I disengaged myself gently. Belfast's crying fits generally ended ina fight with some one, and I wasn't anxious to stand the brunt ofhis inconsolable sorrow. Moreover, two bulky policemen stood near by, looking at us with a disapproving and incorruptible gaze. --"So long!" Isaid, and went on my way. 

But at the corner I stopped to take my last look at the crew of the_Narcissus_. They were swaying irresolute and noisy on the broadflagstones before the Mint. They were bound for the Black Horse, wheremen, in fur caps with brutal faces and in shirt sleeves, dispense outof varnished barrels the illusions of strength, mirth, happiness; theillusion of splendour and poetry of life, to the paid-off crews ofsouthern-going ships. From afar I saw them discoursing, with jovial eyesand clumsy gestures, while the sea of life thundered into their earsceaseless and unheeded. And swaying about there on the white stones, surrounded by the hurry and clamour of men, they appeared to becreatures of another kind--lost, alone, forgetful, and doomed; they werelike castaways, like reckless and joyous castaways, like mad castawaysmaking merry in the storm and upon an insecure ledge of a treacherousrock. The roar of the town resembled the roar of topping breakers, merciless and strong, with a loud voice and cruel purpose; but overheadthe clouds broke; a flood of sunshine streamed down the walls of grimyhouses. The dark knot of seamen drifted in sunshine. To the left of themthe trees in Tower Gardens sighed, the stones of the Tower gleaming, seemed to stir in the play of light, as if remembering suddenly all thegreat joys and sorrows of the past, the fighting prototypes of thesemen; press-gangs; mutinous cries; the wailing of women by the riverside, and the shouts of men welcoming victories. The sunshine of heaven felllike a gift of grace on the mud of the earth, on the remembering andmute stones, on greed, selfishness; on the anxious faces of forgetfulmen. And to the right of the dark group the stained front of the Mint, cleansed by the flood of light, stood out for a moment dazzling andwhite like a marble palace in a fairy tale. The crew of the _Narcissus_drifted out of sight. 

I never saw them again. The sea took some, the steamers took others, the graveyards of the earth will account for the rest. Singleton hasno doubt taken with him the long record of his faithful work into thepeaceful depths of an hospitable sea. And Donkin, who never did a decentday's work in his life, no doubt earns his living by discoursing withfilthy eloquence upon the right of labour to live. So be it! Let theearth and the sea each have its own. 

A gone shipmate, like any other man, is gone for ever; and I never metone of them again. But at times the spring-flood of memory sets withforce up the dark River of the Nine Bends. Then on the waters of theforlorn stream drifts a ship--a shadowy ship manned by a crew of Shades. They pass and make a sign, in a shadowy hail. Haven't we, togetherand upon the immortal sea, wrung out a meaning from our sinful lives?Good-bye, brothers! You were a good crowd. As good a crowd as everfisted with wild cries the beating canvas of a heavy foresail; ortossing aloft, invisible in the night, gave back yell for yell to awesterly gale. 

THE END