YOUTH A NARRATIVE By Joseph Conrad "... But the Dwarf answered: No; something human is dearer to me than the wealth of all the world. " GRIMM'S TALES. TO MY WIFE YOUTH This could have occurred nowhere but in England, where men and seainterpenetrate, so to speak--the sea entering into the life of most men, and the men knowing something or everything about the sea, in the way ofamusement, of travel, or of bread-winning. We were sitting round a mahogany table that reflected the bottle, theclaret-glasses, and our faces as we leaned on our elbows. There was adirector of companies, an accountant, a lawyer, Marlow, and myself. Thedirector had been a _Conway_ boy, the accountant had served four years atsea, the lawyer--a fine crusted Tory, High Churchman, the best of oldfellows, the soul of honour--had been chief officer in the P. & O. Service in the good old days when mail-boats were square-rigged at leaston two masts, and used to come down the China Sea before a fair monsoonwith stun'-sails set alow and aloft. We all began life in the merchantservice. Between the five of us there was the strong bond of the sea, and also the fellowship of the craft, which no amount of enthusiasm foryachting, cruising, and so on can give, since one is only the amusementof life and the other is life itself. Marlow (at least I think that is how he spelt his name) told the story, or rather the chronicle, of a voyage: "Yes, I have seen a little of the Eastern seas; but what I remember bestis my first voyage there. You fellows know there are those voyages thatseem ordered for the illustration of life, that might stand for a symbolof existence. You fight, work, sweat, nearly kill yourself, sometimes dokill yourself, trying to accomplish something--and you can't. Notfrom any fault of yours. You simply can do nothing, neither great norlittle--not a thing in the world--not even marry an old maid, or get awretched 600-ton cargo of coal to its port of destination. "It was altogether a memorable affair. It was my first voyage to theEast, and my first voyage as second mate; it was also my skipper's firstcommand. You'll admit it was time. He was sixty if a day; a little man, with a broad, not very straight back, with bowed shoulders and one legmore bandy than the other, he had that queer twisted-about appearanceyou see so often in men who work in the fields. He had a nut-crackerface--chin and nose trying to come together over a sunken mouth--and itwas framed in iron-grey fluffy hair, that looked like a chin strap ofcotton-wool sprinkled with coal-dust. And he had blue eyes in thatold face of his, which were amazingly like a boy's, with that candidexpression some quite common men preserve to the end of their days bya rare internal gift of simplicity of heart and rectitude of soul. What induced him to accept me was a wonder. I had come out of a crackAustralian clipper, where I had been third officer, and he seemed tohave a prejudice against crack clippers as aristocratic and high-toned. He said to me, 'You know, in this ship you will have to work. ' I saidI had to work in every ship I had ever been in. 'Ah, but this isdifferent, and you gentlemen out of them big ships;... But there! Idare say you will do. Join to-morrow. ' "I joined to-morrow. It was twenty-two years ago; and I was just twenty. How time passes! It was one of the happiest days of my life. Fancy!Second mate for the first time--a really responsible officer! I wouldn'thave thrown up my new billet for a fortune. The mate looked me overcarefully. He was also an old chap, but of another stamp. He had a Romannose, a snow-white, long beard, and his name was Mahon, but he insistedthat it should be pronounced Mann. He was well connected; yet there wassomething wrong with his luck, and he had never got on. "As to the captain, he had been for years in coasters, then in theMediterranean, and last in the West Indian trade. He had never beenround the Capes. He could just write a kind of sketchy hand, and didn'tcare for writing at all. Both were thorough good seamen of course, and between those two old chaps I felt like a small boy between twograndfathers. "The ship also was old. Her name was the _Judea_. Queer name, isn't it?She belonged to a man Wilmer, Wilcox--some name like that; but he hasbeen bankrupt and dead these twenty years or more, and his name don'tmatter. She had been laid up in Shadwell basin for ever so long. You mayimagine her state. She was all rust, dust, grime--soot aloft, dirt ondeck. To me it was like coming out of a palace into a ruined cottage. She was about 400 tons, had a primitive windlass, wooden latches to thedoors, not a bit of brass about her, and a big square stern. There wason it, below her name in big letters, a lot of scroll work, with thegilt off, and some sort of a coat of arms, with the motto 'Do or Die'underneath. I remember it took my fancy immensely. There was a touch ofromance in it, something that made me love the old thing--something thatappealed to my youth! "We left London in ballast--sand ballast--to load a cargo of coal in anorthern port for Bankok. Bankok! I thrilled. I had been six years atsea, but had only seen Melbourne and Sydney, very good places, charmingplaces in their way--but Bankok! "We worked out of the Thames under canvas, with a North Sea pilot onboard. His name was Jermyn, and he dodged all day long about the galleydrying his handkerchief before the stove. Apparently he never slept. He was a dismal man, with a perpetual tear sparkling at the end of hisnose, who either had been in trouble, or was in trouble, or expectedto be in trouble--couldn't be happy unless something went wrong. Hemistrusted my youth, my common-sense, and my seamanship, and made apoint of showing it in a hundred little ways. I dare say he was right. It seems to me I knew very little then, and I know not much more now;but I cherish a hate for that Jermyn to this day. "We were a week working up as far as Yarmouth Roads, and then we gotinto a gale--the famous October gale of twenty-two years ago. It waswind, lightning, sleet, snow, and a terrific sea. We were flying light, and you may imagine how bad it was when I tell you we had smashedbulwarks and a flooded deck. On the second night she shifted her ballastinto the lee bow, and by that time we had been blown off somewhere onthe Dogger Bank. There was nothing for it but go below with shovels andtry to right her, and there we were in that vast hold, gloomy like acavern, the tallow dips stuck and flickering on the beams, the galehowling above, the ship tossing about like mad on her side; there weall were, Jermyn, the captain, everyone, hardly able to keep our feet, engaged on that gravedigger's work, and trying to toss shovelfuls of wetsand up to windward. At every tumble of the ship you could see vaguelyin the dim light men falling down with a great flourish of shovels. One of the ship's boys (we had two), impressed by the weirdness of thescene, wept as if his heart would break. We could hear him blubberingsomewhere in the shadows. "On the third day the gale died out, and by-and-by a north-country tugpicked us up. We took sixteen days in all to get from London to theTyne! When we got into dock we had lost our turn for loading, and theyhauled us off to a tier where we remained for a month. Mrs. Beard (thecaptain's name was Beard) came from Colchester to see the old man. Shelived on board. The crew of runners had left, and there remained onlythe officers, one boy, and the steward, a mulatto who answered to thename of Abraham. Mrs. Beard was an old woman, with a face all wrinkledand ruddy like a winter apple, and the figure of a young girl. Shecaught sight of me once, sewing on a button, and insisted on having myshirts to repair. This was something different from the captains' wivesI had known on board crack clippers. When I brought her the shirts, shesaid: 'And the socks? They want mending, I am sure, and John's--CaptainBeard's--things are all in order now. I would be glad of something todo. ' Bless the old woman! She overhauled my outfit for me, and meantimeI read for the first time _Sartor Resartus_ and Burnaby's _Ride toKhiva_. I didn't understand much of the first then; but I remember Ipreferred the soldier to the philosopher at the time; a preferencewhich life has only confirmed. One was a man, and the other was eithermore--or less. However, they are both dead, and Mrs. Beard is dead, andyouth, strength, genius, thoughts, achievements, simple hearts--all dies.... No matter. "They loaded us at last. We shipped a crew. Eight able seamen and twoboys. We hauled off one evening to the buoys at the dock-gates, ready togo out, and with a fair prospect of beginning the voyage next day. Mrs. Beard was to start for home by a late train. When the ship was fastwe went to tea. We sat rather silent through the meal--Mahon, the oldcouple, and I. I finished first, and slipped away for a smoke, my cabinbeing in a deck-house just against the poop. It was high water, blowingfresh with a drizzle; the double dock-gates were opened, and the steamcolliers were going in and out in the darkness with their lights burningbright, a great plashing of propellers, rattling of winches, and a lotof hailing on the pier-heads. I watched the procession of head-lightsgliding high and of green lights gliding low in the night, when suddenlya red gleam flashed at me, vanished, came into view again, and remained. The fore-end of a steamer loomed up close. I shouted down the cabin, 'Come up, quick!' and then heard a startled voice saying afar in thedark, 'Stop her, sir. ' A bell jingled. Another voice cried warningly, 'We are going right into that barque, sir. ' The answer to this was agruff 'All right, ' and the next thing was a heavy crash as the steamerstruck a glancing blow with the bluff of her bow about our fore-rigging. There was a moment of confusion, yelling, and running about. Steamroared. Then somebody was heard saying, 'All clear, sir. '... 'Areyou all right?' asked the gruff voice. I had jumped forward to see thedamage, and hailed back, 'I think so. ' 'Easy astern, ' said the gruffvoice. A bell jingled. 'What steamer is that?' screamed Mahon. By thattime she was no more to us than a bulky shadow maneuvering a littleway off. They shouted at us some name--a woman's name, Miranda orMelissa--or some such thing. 'This means another month in this beastlyhole, ' said Mahon to me, as we peered with lamps about the splinteredbulwarks and broken braces. 'But where's the captain?' "We had not heard or seen anything of him all that time. We went aft tolook. A doleful voice arose hailing somewhere in the middle of the dock, '_Judea_ ahoy!'... How the devil did he get there?... 'Hallo!' weshouted. 'I am adrift in our boat without oars, ' he cried. A belatedwaterman offered his services, and Mahon struck a bargain with him forhalf-a-crown to tow our skipper alongside; but it was Mrs. Beard thatcame up the ladder first. They had been floating about the dock in thatmizzly cold rain for nearly an hour. I was never so surprised in mylife. "It appears that when he heard my shout 'Come up, ' he understood at oncewhat was the matter, caught up his wife, ran on deck, and across, and down into our boat, which was fast to the ladder. Not bad for asixty-year-old. Just imagine that old fellow saving heroically in hisarms that old woman--the woman of his life. He set her down on a thwart, and was ready to climb back on board when the painter came adriftsomehow, and away they went together. Of course in the confusion wedid not hear him shouting. He looked abashed. She said cheerfully, 'Isuppose it does not matter my losing the train now?' 'No, Jenny--you gobelow and get warm, ' he growled. Then to us: 'A sailor has no businesswith a wife--I say. There I was, out of the ship. Well, no harm donethis time. Let's go and look at what that fool of a steamer smashed. ' "It wasn't much, but it delayed us three weeks. At the end of that time, the captain being engaged with his agents, I carried Mrs. Beard's bag tothe railway-station and put her all comfy into a third-class carriage. She lowered the window to say, 'You are a good young man. If you seeJohn--Captain Beard--without his muffler at night, just remind him fromme to keep his throat well wrapped up. ' 'Certainly, Mrs. Beard, ' I said. 'You are a good young man; I noticed how attentive you are to John--toCaptain--' The train pulled out suddenly; I took my cap off to the oldwoman: I never saw her again... Pass the bottle. "We went to sea next day. When we made that start for Bankok we had beenalready three months out of London. We had expected to be a fortnight orso--at the outside. "It was January, and the weather was beautiful--the beautiful sunnywinter weather that has more charm than in the summer-time, because itis unexpected, and crisp, and you know it won't, it can't, last long. It's like a windfall, like a godsend, like an unexpected piece of luck. "It lasted all down the North Sea, all down Channel; and it lasted tillwe were three hundred miles or so to the westward of the Lizards: thenthe wind went round to the sou'west and began to pipe up. In two days itblew a gale. The _Judea_, hove to, wallowed on the Atlantic like an oldcandlebox. It blew day after day: it blew with spite, without interval, without mercy, without rest. The world was nothing but an immensity ofgreat foaming waves rushing at us, under a sky low enough to touchwith the hand and dirty like a smoked ceiling. In the stormy spacesurrounding us there was as much flying spray as air. Day after day andnight after night there was nothing round the ship but the howl of thewind, the tumult of the sea, the noise of water pouring over her deck. There was no rest for her and no rest for us. She tossed, she pitched, she stood on her head, she sat on her tail, she rolled, she groaned, andwe had to hold on while on deck and cling to our bunks when below, in aconstant effort of body and worry of mind. "One night Mahon spoke through the small window of my berth. It openedright into my very bed, and I was lying there sleepless, in my boots, feeling as though I had not slept for years, and could not if I tried. He said excitedly-- "'You got the sounding-rod in here, Marlow? I can't get the pumps tosuck. By God! it's no child's play. ' "I gave him the sounding-rod and lay down again, trying to think ofvarious things--but I thought only of the pumps. When I came on deckthey were still at it, and my watch relieved at the pumps. By the lightof the lantern brought on deck to examine the sounding-rod I caught aglimpse of their weary, serious faces. We pumped all the four hours. We pumped all night, all day, all the week, --watch and watch. She wasworking herself loose, and leaked badly--not enough to drown us at once, but enough to kill us with the work at the pumps. And while we pumpedthe ship was going from us piecemeal: the bulwarks went, the stanchionswere torn out, the ventilators smashed, the cabin-door burst in. Therewas not a dry spot in the ship. She was being gutted bit by bit. Thelong-boat changed, as if by magic, into matchwood where she stood in hergripes. I had lashed her myself, and was rather proud of my handiwork, which had withstood so long the malice of the sea. And we pumped. Andthere was no break in the weather. The sea was white like a sheet offoam, like a caldron of boiling milk; there was not a break in theclouds, no--not the size of a man's hand--no, not for so much as tenseconds. There was for us no sky, there were for us no stars, no sun, no universe--nothing but angry clouds and an infuriated sea. We pumpedwatch and watch, for dear life; and it seemed to last for months, foryears, for all eternity, as though we had been dead and gone to a hellfor sailors. We forgot the day of the week, the name of the month, whatyear it was, and whether we had ever been ashore. The sails blew away, she lay broadside on under a weather-cloth, the ocean poured overher, and we did not care. We turned those handles, and had the eyes ofidiots. As soon as we had crawled on deck I used to take a round turnwith a rope about the men, the pumps, and the mainmast, and we turned, we turned incessantly, with the water to our waists, to our necks, overour heads. It was all one. We had forgotten how it felt to be dry. "And there was somewhere in me the thought: By Jove! this is the deuceof an adventure--something you read about; and it is my first voyage assecond mate--and I am only twenty--and here I am lasting it out as wellas any of these men, and keeping my chaps up to the mark. I was pleased. I would not have given up the experience for worlds. I had moments ofexultation. Whenever the old dismantled craft pitched heavily with hercounter high in the air, she seemed to me to throw up, like an appeal, like a defiance, like a cry to the clouds without mercy, the wordswritten on her stern: '_Judea_, London. Do or Die. ' "O youth! The strength of it, the faith of it, the imagination of it! Tome she was not an old rattle-trap carting about the world a lot of coalfor a freight--to me she was the endeavour, the test, the trial of life. I think of her with pleasure, with affection, with regret--as you wouldthink of someone dead you have loved. I shall never forget her.... Pass the bottle. "One night when tied to the mast, as I explained, we were pumpingon, deafened with the wind, and without spirit enough in us to wishourselves dead, a heavy sea crashed aboard and swept clean over us. Assoon as I got my breath I shouted, as in duty bound, 'Keep on, boys!'when suddenly I felt something hard floating on deck strike the calf ofmy leg. I made a grab at it and missed. It was so dark we could not seeeach other's faces within a foot--you understand. "After that thump the ship kept quiet for a while, and the thing, whatever it was, struck my leg again. This time I caught it--and it wasa saucepan. At first, being stupid with fatigue and thinking of nothingbut the pumps, I did not understand what I had in my hand. Suddenly itdawned upon me, and I shouted, 'Boys, the house on deck is gone. Leavethis, and let's look for the cook. ' "There was a deck-house forward, which contained the galley, the cook'sberth, and the quarters of the crew. As we had expected for days to seeit swept away, the hands had been ordered to sleep in the cabin--theonly safe place in the ship. The steward, Abraham, however, persistedin clinging to his berth, stupidly, like a mule--from sheer frightI believe, like an animal that won't leave a stable falling in anearthquake. So we went to look for him. It was chancing death, sinceonce out of our lashings we were as exposed as if on a raft. But wewent. The house was shattered as if a shell had exploded inside. Mostof it had gone overboard--stove, men's quarters, and their property, all was gone; but two posts, holding a portion of the bulkhead to whichAbraham's bunk was attached, remained as if by a miracle. We groped inthe ruins and came upon this, and there he was, sitting in his bunk, surrounded by foam and wreckage, jabbering cheerfully to himself. Hewas out of his mind; completely and for ever mad, with this sudden shockcoming upon the fag-end of his endurance. We snatched him up, lugged himaft, and pitched him head-first down the cabin companion. You understandthere was no time to carry him down with infinite precautions and waitto see how he got on. Those below would pick him up at the bottom ofthe stairs all right. We were in a hurry to go back to the pumps. Thatbusiness could not wait. A bad leak is an inhuman thing. "One would think that the sole purpose of that fiendish gale had been tomake a lunatic of that poor devil of a mulatto. It eased before morning, and next day the sky cleared, and as the sea went down the leak took up. When it came to bending a fresh set of sails the crew demanded to putback--and really there was nothing else to do. Boats gone, decks sweptclean, cabin gutted, men without a stitch but what they stood in, storesspoiled, ship strained. We put her head for home, and--would you believeit? The wind came east right in our teeth. It blew fresh, it blewcontinuously. We had to beat up every inch of the way, but she didnot leak so badly, the water keeping comparatively smooth. Two hours'pumping in every four is no joke--but it kept her afloat as far asFalmouth. "The good people there live on casualties of the sea, and no doubt wereglad to see us. A hungry crowd of shipwrights sharpened their chiselsat the sight of that carcass of a ship. And, by Jove! they had prettypickings off us before they were done. I fancy the owner was already ina tight place. There were delays. Then it was decided to take partof the cargo out and calk her topsides. This was done, the repairsfinished, cargo re-shipped; a new crew came on board, and we wentout--for Bankok. At the end of a week we were back again. The crew saidthey weren't going to Bankok--a hundred and fifty days' passage--in asomething hooker that wanted pumping eight hours out of the twenty-four;and the nautical papers inserted again the little paragraph: _'Judea_. Barque. Tyne to Bankok; coals; put back to Falmouth leaky and with crewrefusing duty. ' "There were more delays--more tinkering. The owner came down for a day, and said she was as right as a little fiddle. Poor old Captain Beardlooked like the ghost of a Geordie skipper--through the worry andhumiliation of it. Remember he was sixty, and it was his first command. Mahon said it was a foolish business, and would end badly. I loved theship more than ever, and wanted awfully to get to Bankok. To Bankok!Magic name, blessed name. Mesopotamia wasn't a patch on it. Remember Iwas twenty, and it was my first second mate's billet, and the East waswaiting for me. "We went out and anchored in the outer roads with a fresh crew--thethird. She leaked worse than ever. It was as if those confoundedshipwrights had actually made a hole in her. This time we did not evengo outside. The crew simply refused to man the windlass. "They towed us back to the inner harbour, and we became a fixture, afeature, an institution of the place. People pointed us out to visitorsas 'That 'ere bark that's going to Bankok--has been here six months--putback three times. ' On holidays the small boys pulling about in boatswould hail, '_Judea_, ahoy!' and if a head showed above the railshouted, 'Where you bound to?--Bankok?' and jeered. We were only threeon board. The poor old skipper mooned in the cabin. Mahon undertookthe cooking, and unexpectedly developed all a Frenchman's genius forpreparing nice little messes. I looked languidly after the rigging. Webecame citizens of Falmouth. Every shopkeeper knew us. At the barber'sor tobacconist's they asked familiarly, 'Do you think you will ever getto Bankok?' Meantime the owner, the underwriters, and the chartererssquabbled amongst themselves in London, and our pay went on.... Passthe bottle. "It was horrid. Morally it was worse than pumping for life. It seemed asthough we had been forgotten by the world, belonged to nobody, would getnowhere; it seemed that, as if bewitched, we would have to live for everand ever in that inner harbour, a derision and a by-word to generationsof long-shore loafers and dishonest boatmen. I obtained three months'pay and a five days' leave, and made a rush for London. It took me a dayto get there and pretty well another to come back--but three months'pay went all the same. I don't know what I did with it. I went to amusic-hall, I believe, lunched, dined, and supped in a swell place inRegent Street, and was back to time, with nothing but a complete set ofByron's works and a new railway rug to show for three months' work. Theboatman who pulled me off to the ship said: 'Hallo! I thought you hadleft the old thing. _She_ will never get to Bankok. ' 'That's all _you_know about it, ' I said scornfully--but I didn't like that prophecy atall. "Suddenly a man, some kind of agent to somebody, appeared with fullpowers. He had grog-blossoms all over his face, an indomitable energy, and was a jolly soul. We leaped into life again. A hulk came alongside, took our cargo, and then we went into dry dock to get our copperstripped. No wonder she leaked. The poor thing, strained beyondendurance by the gale, had, as if in disgust, spat out all the oakum ofher lower seams. She was recalked, new coppered, and made as tight as abottle. We went back to the hulk and re-shipped our cargo. "Then on a fine moonlight night, all the rats left the ship. "We had been infested with them. They had destroyed our sails, consumedmore stores than the crew, affably shared our beds and our dangers, andnow, when the ship was made seaworthy, concluded to clear out. I calledMahon to enjoy the spectacle. Rat after rat appeared on our rail, tooka last look over his shoulder, and leaped with a hollow thud into theempty hulk. We tried to count them, but soon lost the tale. Mahon said:'Well, well! don't talk to me about the intelligence of rats. They oughtto have left before, when we had that narrow squeak from foundering. There you have the proof how silly is the superstition about them. Theyleave a good ship for an old rotten hulk, where there is nothing to eat, too, the fools!... I don't believe they know what is safe or what isgood for them, any more than you or I. ' "And after some more talk we agreed that the wisdom of rats had beengrossly overrated, being in fact no greater than that of men. "The story of the ship was known, by this, all up the Channel fromLand's End to the Forelands, and we could get no crew on the southcoast. They sent us one all complete from Liverpool, and we left oncemore--for Bankok. "We had fair breezes, smooth water right into the tropics, and theold Judea lumbered along in the sunshine. When she went eight knotseverything cracked aloft, and we tied our caps to our heads; but mostlyshe strolled on at the rate of three miles an hour. What could youexpect? She was tired--that old ship. Her youth was where mine is--whereyours is--you fellows who listen to this yarn; and what friend wouldthrow your years and your weariness in your face? We didn't grumble ather. To us aft, at least, it seemed as though we had been born in her, reared in her, had lived in her for ages, had never known any othership. I would just as soon have abused the old village church at homefor not being a cathedral. "And for me there was also my youth to make me patient. There was allthe East before me, and all life, and the thought that I had been triedin that ship and had come out pretty well. And I thought of men of oldwho, centuries ago, went that road in ships that sailed no better, tothe land of palms, and spices, and yellow sands, and of brown nationsruled by kings more cruel than Nero the Roman and more splendid thanSolomon the Jew. The old bark lumbered on, heavy with her age and theburden of her cargo, while I lived the life of youth in ignorance andhope. She lumbered on through an interminable procession of days; andthe fresh gilding flashed back at the setting sun, seemed to cry outover the darkening sea the words painted on her stern, '_Judea_, London. Do or Die. ' "Then we entered the Indian Ocean and steered northerly for Java Head. The winds were light. Weeks slipped by. She crawled on, do or die, andpeople at home began to think of posting us as overdue. "One Saturday evening, I being off duty, the men asked me to give theman extra bucket of water or so--for washing clothes. As I did not wishto screw on the fresh-water pump so late, I went forward whistling, andwith a key in my hand to unlock the forepeak scuttle, intending to servethe water out of a spare tank we kept there. "The smell down below was as unexpected as it was frightful. One wouldhave thought hundreds of paraffin-lamps had been flaring and smoking inthat hole for days. I was glad to get out. The man with me coughed andsaid, 'Funny smell, sir. ' I answered negligently, 'It's good for thehealth, they say, ' and walked aft. "The first thing I did was to put my head down the square of the midshipventilator. As I lifted the lid a visible breath, something like a thinfog, a puff of faint haze, rose from the opening. The ascending air washot, and had a heavy, sooty, paraffiny smell. I gave one sniff, andput down the lid gently. It was no use choking myself. The cargo was onfire. "Next day she began to smoke in earnest. You see it was to be expected, for though the coal was of a safe kind, that cargo had been so handled, so broken up with handling, that it looked more like smithy coal thananything else. Then it had been wetted--more than once. It rained allthe time we were taking it back from the hulk, and now with thislong passage it got heated, and there was another case of spontaneouscombustion. "The captain called us into the cabin. He had a chart spread on thetable, and looked unhappy. He said, 'The coast of West Australia isnear, but I mean to proceed to our destination. It is the hurricanemonth too; but we will just keep her head for Bankok, and fight thefire. No more putting back anywhere, if we all get roasted. We will tryfirst to stifle this 'ere damned combustion by want of air. ' "We tried. We battened down everything, and still she smoked. The smokekept coming out through imperceptible crevices; it forced itself throughbulkheads and covers; it oozed here and there and everywhere in slenderthreads, in an invisible film, in an incomprehensible manner. It madeits way into the cabin, into the forecastle; it poisoned the shelteredplaces on the deck, it could be sniffed as high as the main-yard. Itwas clear that if the smoke came out the air came in. This wasdisheartening. This combustion refused to be stifled. "We resolved to try water, and took the hatches off. Enormous volumesof smoke, whitish, yellowish, thick, greasy, misty, choking, ascended ashigh as the trucks. All hands cleared out aft. Then the poisonous cloudblew away, and we went back to work in a smoke that was no thicker nowthan that of an ordinary factory chimney. "We rigged the force pump, got the hose along, and by-and-by it burst. Well, it was as old as the ship--a prehistoric hose, and past repair. Then we pumped with the feeble head-pump, drew water with buckets, andin this way managed in time to pour lots of Indian Ocean into the mainhatch. The bright stream flashed in sunshine, fell into a layer ofwhite crawling smoke, and vanished on the black surface of coal. Steamascended mingling with the smoke. We poured salt water as into a barrelwithout a bottom. It was our fate to pump in that ship, to pump outof her, to pump into her; and after keeping water out of her to saveourselves from being drowned, we frantically poured water into her tosave ourselves from being burnt. "And she crawled on, do or die, in the serene weather. The sky was amiracle of purity, a miracle of azure. The sea was polished, was blue, was pellucid, was sparkling like a precious stone, extending on allsides, all round to the horizon--as if the whole terrestrial globe hadbeen one jewel, one colossal sapphire, a single gem fashioned into aplanet. And on the luster of the great calm waters the _Judea_ glidedimperceptibly, enveloped in languid and unclean vapours, in a lazy cloudthat drifted to leeward, light and slow: a pestiferous cloud defilingthe splendour of sea and sky. "All this time of course we saw no fire. The cargo smoldered at thebottom somewhere. Once Mahon, as we were working side by side, said tome with a queer smile: 'Now, if she only would spring a tidy leak--likethat time when we first left the Channel--it would put a stopper on thisfire. Wouldn't it?' I remarked irrelevantly, 'Do you remember the rats?' "We fought the fire and sailed the ship too as carefully as thoughnothing had been the matter. The steward cooked and attended on us. Ofthe other twelve men, eight worked while four rested. Everyone tookhis turn, captain included. There was equality, and if not exactlyfraternity, then a deal of good feeling. Sometimes a man, as he dasheda bucketful of water down the hatchway, would yell out, 'Hurrah forBankok!' and the rest laughed. But generally we were taciturn andserious--and thirsty. Oh! how thirsty! And we had to be careful with thewater. Strict allowance. The ship smoked, the sun blazed.... Pass thebottle. "We tried everything. We even made an attempt to dig down to the fire. No good, of course. No man could remain more than a minute below. Mahon, who went first, fainted there, and the man who went to fetch him outdid likewise. We lugged them out on deck. Then I leaped down to showhow easily it could be done. They had learned wisdom by that time, and contented themselves by fishing for me with a chain-hook tied to abroom-handle, I believe. I did not offer to go and fetch up my shovel, which was left down below. "Things began to look bad. We put the long-boat into the water. Thesecond boat was ready to swing out. We had also another, a fourteen-footthing, on davits aft, where it was quite safe. "Then behold, the smoke suddenly decreased. We re-doubled our effortsto flood the bottom of the ship. In two days there was no smoke at all. Everybody was on the broad grin. This was on a Friday. On Saturday nowork, but sailing the ship of course was done. The men washed theirclothes and their faces for the first time in a fortnight, and had aspecial dinner given them. They spoke of spontaneous combustion withcontempt, and implied _they_ were the boys to put out combustions. Somehow we all felt as though we each had inherited a large fortune. Buta beastly smell of burning hung about the ship. Captain Beard had holloweyes and sunken cheeks. I had never noticed so much before how twistedand bowed he was. He and Mahon prowled soberly about hatches andventilators, sniffing. It struck me suddenly poor Mahon was a very, veryold chap. As to me, I was as pleased and proud as though I had helped towin a great naval battle. O! Youth! "The night was fine. In the morning a homeward-bound ship passed us hulldown, --the first we had seen for months; but we were nearing the land atlast, Java Head being about 190 miles off, and nearly due north. "Next day it was my watch on deck from eight to twelve. At breakfast thecaptain observed, 'It's wonderful how that smell hangs about the cabin. 'About ten, the mate being on the poop, I stepped down on the main-deckfor a moment. The carpenter's bench stood abaft the mainmast: I leanedagainst it sucking at my pipe, and the carpenter, a young chap, came totalk to me. He remarked, 'I think we have done very well, haven't we?'and then I perceived with annoyance the fool was trying to tilt thebench. I said curtly, 'Don't, Chips, ' and immediately became aware of aqueer sensation, of an absurd delusion, --I seemed somehow to be inthe air. I heard all round me like a pent-up breath released--as ifa thousand giants simultaneously had said Phoo!--and felt a dullconcussion which made my ribs ache suddenly. No doubt about it--I wasin the air, and my body was describing a short parabola. But short asit was, I had the time to think several thoughts in, as far as I canremember, the following order: 'This can't be the carpenter--What isit?--Some accident--Submarine volcano?--Coals, gas!--By Jove! we arebeing blown up--Everybody's dead--I am falling into the after-hatch--Isee fire in it. ' "The coal-dust suspended in the air of the hold had glowed dull-redat the moment of the explosion. In the twinkling of an eye, in aninfinitesimal fraction of a second since the first tilt of the bench, Iwas sprawling full length on the cargo. I picked myself up and scrambledout. It was quick like a rebound. The deck was a wilderness of smashedtimber, lying crosswise like trees in a wood after a hurricane; animmense curtain of soiled rags waved gently before me--it was themainsail blown to strips. I thought, The masts will be toppling overdirectly; and to get out of the way bolted on all-fours towards thepoop-ladder. The first person I saw was Mahon, with eyes like saucers, his mouth open, and the long white hair standing straight on end roundhis head like a silver halo. He was just about to go down when thesight of the main-deck stirring, heaving up, and changing into splintersbefore his eyes, petrified him on the top step. I stared at him inunbelief, and he stared at me with a queer kind of shocked curiosity. I did not know that I had no hair, no eyebrows, no eyelashes, that myyoung moustache was burnt off, that my face was black, one cheek laidopen, my nose cut, and my chin bleeding. I had lost my cap, one of myslippers, and my shirt was torn to rags. Of all this I was not aware. Iwas amazed to see the ship still afloat, the poop-deck whole--and, mostof all, to see anybody alive. Also the peace of the sky and the serenityof the sea were distinctly surprising. I suppose I expected to see themconvulsed with horror.... Pass the bottle. "There was a voice hailing the ship from somewhere--in the air, in thesky--I couldn't tell. Presently I saw the captain--and he was mad. Heasked me eagerly, 'Where's the cabin-table?' and to hear such a questionwas a frightful shock. I had just been blown up, you understand, andvibrated with that experience, --I wasn't quite sure whether I was alive. Mahon began to stamp with both feet and yelled at him, 'Good God! don'tyou see the deck's blown out of her?' I found my voice, and stammeredout as if conscious of some gross neglect of duty, 'I don't know wherethe cabin-table is. ' It was like an absurd dream. "Do you know what he wanted next? Well, he wanted to trim the yards. Very placidly, and as if lost in thought, he insisted on having theforeyard squared. 'I don't know if there's anybody alive, ' said Mahon, almost tearfully. 'Surely, ' he said gently, 'there will be enough leftto square the foreyard. ' "The old chap, it seems, was in his own berth, winding up thechronometers, when the shock sent him spinning. Immediately it occurredto him--as he said afterwards--that the ship had struck something, andhe ran out into the cabin. There, he saw, the cabin-table had vanishedsomewhere. The deck being blown up, it had fallen down into thelazarette of course. Where we had our breakfast that morning he saw onlya great hole in the floor. This appeared to him so awfully mysterious, and impressed him so immensely, that what he saw and heard after he goton deck were mere trifles in comparison. And, mark, he noticed directlythe wheel deserted and his barque off her course--and his only thoughtwas to get that miserable, stripped, undecked, smouldering shell ofa ship back again with her head pointing at her port of destination. Bankok! That's what he was after. I tell you this quiet, bowed, bandy-legged, almost deformed little man was immense in the singlenessof his idea and in his placid ignorance of our agitation. He motioned usforward with a commanding gesture, and went to take the wheel himself. "Yes; that was the first thing we did--trim the yards of that wreck! Noone was killed, or even disabled, but everyone was more or less hurt. You should have seen them! Some were in rags, with black faces, likecoal-heavers, like sweeps, and had bullet heads that seemed closelycropped, but were in fact singed to the skin. Others, of the watchbelow, awakened by being shot out from their collapsing bunks, shiveredincessantly, and kept on groaning even as we went about our work. Butthey all worked. That crew of Liverpool hard cases had in them the rightstuff. It's my experience they always have. It is the sea that givesit--the vastness, the loneliness surrounding their dark stolid souls. Ah! Well! we stumbled, we crept, we fell, we barked our shins on thewreckage, we hauled. The masts stood, but we did not know how much theymight be charred down below. It was nearly calm, but a long swell ranfrom the west and made her roll. They might go at any moment. We lookedat them with apprehension. One could not foresee which way they wouldfall. "Then we retreated aft and looked about us. The deck was a tangle ofplanks on edge, of planks on end, of splinters, of ruined woodwork. Themasts rose from that chaos like big trees above a matted undergrowth. The interstices of that mass of wreckage were full of something whitish, sluggish, stirring--of something that was like a greasy fog. Thesmoke of the invisible fire was coming up again, was trailing, like apoisonous thick mist in some valley choked with dead wood. Already lazywisps were beginning to curl upwards amongst the mass of splinters. Hereand there a piece of timber, stuck upright, resembled a post. Half of afife-rail had been shot through the foresail, and the sky made a patchof glorious blue in the ignobly soiled canvas. A portion of severalboards holding together had fallen across the rail, and one endprotruded overboard, like a gangway leading upon nothing, like a gangwayleading over the deep sea, leading to death--as if inviting us to walkthe plank at once and be done with our ridiculous troubles. And stillthe air, the sky--a ghost, something invisible was hailing the ship. "Someone had the sense to look over, and there was the helmsman, who hadimpulsively jumped overboard, anxious to come back. He yelled and swamlustily like a merman, keeping up with the ship. We threw him arope, and presently he stood amongst us streaming with water and verycrestfallen. The captain had surrendered the wheel, and apart, elbow onrail and chin in hand, gazed at the sea wistfully. We asked ourselves, What next? I thought, Now, this is something like. This is great. Iwonder what will happen. O youth! "Suddenly Mahon sighted a steamer far astern. Captain Beard said, 'Wemay do something with her yet. ' We hoisted two flags, which said in theinternational language of the sea, 'On fire. Want immediate assistance. 'The steamer grew bigger rapidly, and by-and-by spoke with two flags onher foremast, 'I am coming to your assistance. ' "In half an hour she was abreast, to windward, within hail, and rollingslightly, with her engines stopped. We lost our composure, and yelledall together with excitement, 'We've been blown up. ' A man in a whitehelmet, on the bridge, cried, 'Yes! All right! all right!' and he noddedhis head, and smiled, and made soothing motions with his hand as thoughat a lot of frightened children. One of the boats dropped in the water, and walked towards us upon the sea with her long oars. Four Calashespulled a swinging stroke. This was my first sight of Malay seamen. I'veknown them since, but what struck me then was their unconcern: theycame alongside, and even the bowman standing up and holding to ourmain-chains with the boat-hook did not deign to lift his head for aglance. I thought people who had been blown up deserved more attention. "A little man, dry like a chip and agile like a monkey, clambered up. Itwas the mate of the steamer. He gave one look, and cried, 'O boys--youhad better quit. ' "We were silent. He talked apart with the captain for a time, --seemed toargue with him. Then they went away together to the steamer. "When our skipper came back we learned that the steamer was the_Sommerville_, Captain Nash, from West Australia to Singapore viaBatavia with mails, and that the agreement was she should tow us toAnjer or Batavia, if possible, where we could extinguish the fire byscuttling, and then proceed on our voyage--to Bankok! The old man seemedexcited. 'We will do it yet, ' he said to Mahon, fiercely. He shook hisfist at the sky. Nobody else said a word. "At noon the steamer began to tow. She went ahead slim and high, andwhat was left of the Judea followed at the end of seventy fathom oftow-rope, --followed her swiftly like a cloud of smoke with mastheadsprotruding above. We went aloft to furl the sails. We coughed on theyards, and were careful about the bunts. Do you see the lot of us there, putting a neat furl on the sails of that ship doomed to arrive nowhere?There was not a man who didn't think that at any moment the masts wouldtopple over. From aloft we could not see the ship for smoke, andthey worked carefully, passing the gaskets with even turns. 'Harbourfurl--aloft there!' cried Mahon from below. "You understand this? I don't think one of those chaps expected to getdown in the usual way. When we did I heard them saying to each other, 'Well, I thought we would come down overboard, in a lump--sticks andall--blame me if I didn't. ' 'That's what I was thinking to myself, 'would answer wearily another battered and bandaged scarecrow. And, mind, these were men without the drilled-in habit of obedience. To an onlookerthey would be a lot of profane scallywags without a redeemingpoint. What made them do it--what made them obey me when I, thinkingconsciously how fine it was, made them drop the bunt of the foresailtwice to try and do it better? What? They had no professionalreputation--no examples, no praise. It wasn't a sense of duty; they allknew well enough how to shirk, and laze, and dodge--when they had a mindto it--and mostly they had. Was it the two pounds ten a month that sentthem there? They didn't think their pay half good enough. No; it wassomething in them, something inborn and subtle and everlasting. I don'tsay positively that the crew of a French or German merchantman wouldn'thave done it, but I doubt whether it would have been done in the sameway. There was a completeness in it, something solid like a principle, and masterful like an instinct--a disclosure of something secret--ofthat hidden something, that gift, of good or evil that makes racialdifference, that shapes the fate of nations. "It was that night at ten that, for the first time since we had beenfighting it, we saw the fire. The speed of the towing had fanned thesmoldering destruction. A blue gleam appeared forward, shining below thewreck of the deck. It wavered in patches, it seemed to stir and creeplike the light of a glowworm. I saw it first, and told Mahon. 'Then thegame's up, ' he said. 'We had better stop this towing, or she will burstout suddenly fore and aft before we can clear out. ' We set up a yell;rang bells to attract their attention; they towed on. At last Mahon andI had to crawl forward and cut the rope with an ax. There was no time tocast off the lashings. Red tongues could be seen licking the wildernessof splinters under our feet as we made our way back to the poop. "Of course they very soon found out in the steamer that the ropewas gone. She gave a loud blast of her whistle, her lights were seensweeping in a wide circle, she came up ranging close alongside, andstopped. We were all in a tight group on the poop looking at her. Everyman had saved a little bundle or a bag. Suddenly a conical flame witha twisted top shot up forward and threw upon the black sea a circleof light, with the two vessels side by side and heaving gently in itscenter. Captain Beard had been sitting on the gratings still and mutefor hours, but now he rose slowly and advanced in front of us, to themizzen-shrouds. Captain Nash hailed: 'Come along! Look sharp. I havemail-bags on board. I will take you and your boats to Singapore. ' "'Thank you! No!' said our skipper. 'We must see the last of the ship. ' "'I can't stand by any longer, ' shouted the other. 'Mails--you know. ' "'Ay! ay! We are all right. ' "'Very well! I'll report you in Singapore.... Good-bye!' "He waved his hand. Our men dropped their bundles quietly. The steamermoved ahead, and passing out of the circle of light, vanished at oncefrom our sight, dazzled by the fire which burned fiercely. And then Iknew that I would see the East first as commander of a small boat. Ithought it fine; and the fidelity to the old ship was fine. We shouldsee the last of her. Oh the glamour of youth! Oh the fire of it, moredazzling than the flames of the burning ship, throwing a magic light onthe wide earth, leaping audaciously to the sky, presently to be quenchedby time, more cruel, more pitiless, more bitter than the sea--and likethe flames of the burning ship surrounded by an impenetrable night. " ***** "The old man warned us in his gentle and inflexible way that it was partof our duty to save for the under-writers as much as we could of theship's gear. According we went to work aft, while she blazed forward togive us plenty of light. We lugged out a lot of rubbish. What didn't wesave? An old barometer fixed with an absurd quantity of screws nearlycost me my life: a sudden rush of smoke came upon me, and I just gotaway in time. There were various stores, bolts of canvas, coils of rope;the poop looked like a marine bazaar, and the boats were lumbered to thegunwales. One would have thought the old man wanted to take as much ashe could of his first command with him. He was very very quiet, but offhis balance evidently. Would you believe it? He wanted to take a lengthof old stream-cable and a kedge-anchor with him in the long-boat. Wesaid, 'Ay, ay, sir, ' deferentially, and on the quiet let the thing slipoverboard. The heavy medicine-chest went that way, two bags of greencoffee, tins of paint--fancy, paint!--a whole lot of things. Then I wasordered with two hands into the boats to make a stowage and get themready against the time it would be proper for us to leave the ship. "We put everything straight, stepped the long-boat's mast for ourskipper, who was in charge of her, and I was not sorry to sit down for amoment. My face felt raw, every limb ached as if broken, I was awareof all my ribs, and would have sworn to a twist in the back-bone. Theboats, fast astern, lay in a deep shadow, and all around I could see thecircle of the sea lighted by the fire. A gigantic flame arose forwardstraight and clear. It flared there, with noises like the whir of wings, with rumbles as of thunder. There were cracks, detonations, and fromthe cone of flame the sparks flew upwards, as man is born to trouble, toleaky ships, and to ships that burn. "What bothered me was that the ship, lying broadside to the swell and tosuch wind as there was--a mere breath--the boats would not keep asternwhere they were safe, but persisted, in a pig-headed way boats have, in getting under the counter and then swinging alongside. They wereknocking about dangerously and coming near the flame, while the shiprolled on them, and, of course, there was always the danger of the mastsgoing over the side at any moment. I and my two boat-keepers kept themoff as best we could with oars and boat-hooks; but to be constantlyat it became exasperating, since there was no reason why we should notleave at once. We could not see those on board, nor could we imaginewhat caused the delay. The boat-keepers were swearing feebly, and I hadnot only my share of the work, but also had to keep at it two men whoshowed a constant inclination to lay themselves down and let thingsslide. "At last I hailed 'On deck there, ' and someone looked over. 'We're readyhere, ' I said. The head disappeared, and very soon popped up again. 'Thecaptain says, All right, sir, and to keep the boats well clear of theship. ' "Half an hour passed. Suddenly there was a frightful racket, rattle, clanking of chain, hiss of water, and millions of sparks flew up intothe shivering column of smoke that stood leaning slightly above theship. The cat-heads had burned away, and the two red-hot anchors hadgone to the bottom, tearing out after them two hundred fathom of red-hotchain. The ship trembled, the mass of flame swayed as if ready tocollapse, and the fore top-gallant-mast fell. It darted down likean arrow of fire, shot under, and instantly leaping up within anoar's-length of the boats, floated quietly, very black on the luminoussea. I hailed the deck again. After some time a man in an unexpectedlycheerful but also muffled tone, as though he had been trying to speakwith his mouth shut, informed me, 'Coming directly, sir, ' and vanished. For a long time I heard nothing but the whir and roar of the fire. Therewere also whistling sounds. The boats jumped, tugged at the painters, ran at each other playfully, knocked their sides together, or, do whatwe would, swung in a bunch against the ship's side. I couldn't stand itany longer, and swarming up a rope, clambered aboard over the stern. "It was as bright as day. Coming up like this, the sheet of fire facingme, was a terrifying sight, and the heat seemed hardly bearable atfirst. On a settee cushion dragged out of the cabin, Captain Beard, with his legs drawn up and one arm under his head, slept with the lightplaying on him. Do you know what the rest were busy about? They weresitting on deck right aft, round an open case, eating bread and cheeseand drinking bottled stout. "On the background of flames twisting in fierce tongues above theirheads they seemed at home like salamanders, and looked like a bandof desperate pirates. The fire sparkled in the whites of their eyes, gleamed on patches of white skin seen through the torn shirts. Eachhad the marks as of a battle about him--bandaged heads, tied-up arms, astrip of dirty rag round a knee--and each man had a bottle between hislegs and a chunk of cheese in his hand. Mahon got up. With his handsomeand disreputable head, his hooked profile, his long white beard, andwith an uncorked bottle in his hand, he resembled one of those recklesssea-robbers of old making merry amidst violence and disaster. 'The lastmeal on board, ' he explained solemnly. 'We had nothing to eat allday, and it was no use leaving all this. ' He flourished the bottle andindicated the sleeping skipper. 'He said he couldn't swallow anything, so I got him to lie down, ' he went on; and as I stared, 'I don't knowwhether you are aware, young fellow, the man had no sleep to speak offor days--and there will be dam' little sleep in the boats. ' 'Therewill be no boats by-and-by if you fool about much longer, ' I said, indignantly. I walked up to the skipper and shook him by the shoulder. At last he opened his eyes, but did not move. 'Time to leave her, sir, 'I said, quietly. "He got up painfully, looked at the flames, at the sea sparkling roundthe ship, and black, black as ink farther away; he looked at the starsshining dim through a thin veil of smoke in a sky black, black asErebus. "'Youngest first, ' he said. "And the ordinary seaman, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, got up, clambered over the taffrail, and vanished. Others followed. One, on the point of going over, stopped short to drain his bottle, and witha great swing of his arm flung it at the fire. 'Take this!' he cried. "The skipper lingered disconsolately, and we left him to commune alonefor awhile with his first command. Then I went up again and broughthim away at last. It was time. The ironwork on the poop was hot to thetouch. "Then the painter of the long-boat was cut, and the three boats, tiedtogether, drifted clear of the ship. It was just sixteen hours after theexplosion when we abandoned her. Mahon had charge of the second boat, and I had the smallest--the 14-foot thing. The long-boat would havetaken the lot of us; but the skipper said we must save as much propertyas we could--for the under-writers--and so I got my first command. I hadtwo men with me, a bag of biscuits, a few tins of meat, and a breaker ofwater. I was ordered to keep close to the long-boat, that in case of badweather we might be taken into her. "And do you know what I thought? I thought I would part company as soonas I could. I wanted to have my first command all to myself. I wasn'tgoing to sail in a squadron if there were a chance for independentcruising. I would make land by myself. I would beat the other boats. Youth! All youth! The silly, charming, beautiful youth. "But we did not make a start at once. We must see the last of the ship. And so the boats drifted about that night, heaving and setting on theswell. The men dozed, waked, sighed, groaned. I looked at the burningship. "Between the darkness of earth and heaven she was burning fiercely upona disc of purple sea shot by the blood-red play of gleams; upon a discof water glittering and sinister. A high, clear flame, an immense andlonely flame, ascended from the ocean, and from its summit the blacksmoke poured continuously at the sky. She burned furiously, mournfuland imposing like a funeral pile kindled in the night, surrounded bythe sea, watched over by the stars. A magnificent death had come likea grace, like a gift, like a reward to that old ship at the end of herlaborious days. The surrender of her weary ghost to the keeping of starsand sea was stirring like the sight of a glorious triumph. The mastsfell just before daybreak, and for a moment there was a burst andturmoil of sparks that seemed to fill with flying fire the night patientand watchful, the vast night lying silent upon the sea. At daylightshe was only a charred shell, floating still under a cloud of smoke andbearing a glowing mass of coal within. "Then the oars were got out, and the boats forming in a line moved roundher remains as if in procession--the long-boat leading. As we pulledacross her stern a slim dart of fire shot out viciously at us, andsuddenly she went down, head first, in a great hiss of steam. Theunconsumed stern was the last to sink; but the paint had gone, hadcracked, had peeled off, and there were no letters, there was no word, no stubborn device that was like her soul, to flash at the rising sunher creed and her name. "We made our way north. A breeze sprang up, and about noon all the boatscame together for the last time. I had no mast or sail in mine, but Imade a mast out of a spare oar and hoisted a boat-awning for a sail, with a boat-hook for a yard. She was certainly over-masted, but I hadthe satisfaction of knowing that with the wind aft I could beat theother two. I had to wait for them. Then we all had a look at thecaptain's chart, and, after a sociable meal of hard bread and water, gotour last instructions. These were simple: steer north, and keep togetheras much as possible. 'Be careful with that jury rig, Marlow, ' said thecaptain; and Mahon, as I sailed proudly past his boat, wrinkled hiscurved nose and hailed, 'You will sail that ship of yours under water, if you don't look out, young fellow. ' He was a malicious old man--andmay the deep sea where he sleeps now rock him gently, rock him tenderlyto the end of time! "Before sunset a thick rain-squall passed over the two boats, which werefar astern, and that was the last I saw of them for a time. Next day Isat steering my cockle-shell--my first command--with nothing but waterand sky around me. I did sight in the afternoon the upper sails of aship far away, but said nothing, and my men did not notice her. You seeI was afraid she might be homeward bound, and I had no mind to turn backfrom the portals of the East. I was steering for Java--another blessedname--like Bankok, you know. I steered many days. "I need not tell you what it is to be knocking about in an open boat. Iremember nights and days of calm when we pulled, we pulled, and theboat seemed to stand still, as if bewitched within the circle of the seahorizon. I remember the heat, the deluge of rain-squalls that kept usbaling for dear life (but filled our water-cask), and I remember sixteenhours on end with a mouth dry as a cinder and a steering-oar over thestern to keep my first command head on to a breaking sea. I did not knowhow good a man I was till then. I remember the drawn faces, the dejectedfigures of my two men, and I remember my youth and the feeling thatwill never come back any more--the feeling that I could last for ever, outlast the sea, the earth, and all men; the deceitful feeling thatlures us on to joys, to perils, to love, to vain effort--to death; thetriumphant conviction of strength, the heat of life in the handful ofdust, the glow in the heart that with every year grows dim, grows cold, grows small, and expires--and expires, too soon--before life itself. "And this is how I see the East. I have seen its secret places and havelooked into its very soul; but now I see it always from a small boat, ahigh outline of mountains, blue and afar in the morning; like faint mistat noon; a jagged wall of purple at sunset. I have the feel of the oarin my hand, the vision of a scorching blue sea in my eyes. And I see abay, a wide bay, smooth as glass and polished like ice, shimmering inthe dark. A red light burns far off upon the gloom of the land, andthe night is soft and warm. We drag at the oars with aching arms, andsuddenly a puff of wind, a puff faint and tepid and laden with strangeodors of blossoms, of aromatic wood, comes out of the still night--thefirst sigh of the East on my face. That I can never forget. It wasimpalpable and enslaving, like a charm, like a whispered promise ofmysterious delight. "We had been pulling this finishing spell for eleven hours. Two pulled, and he whose turn it was to rest sat at the tiller. We had made out thered light in that bay and steered for it, guessing it must mark somesmall coasting port. We passed two vessels, outlandish and high-sterned, sleeping at anchor, and, approaching the light, now very dim, ran theboat's nose against the end of a jutting wharf. We were blind withfatigue. My men dropped the oars and fell off the thwarts as if dead. Imade fast to a pile. A current rippled softly. The scented obscurity ofthe shore was grouped into vast masses, a density of colossal clumps ofvegetation, probably--mute and fantastic shapes. And at their foot thesemicircle of a beach gleamed faintly, like an illusion. There was nota light, not a stir, not a sound. The mysterious East faced me, perfumedlike a flower, silent like death, dark like a grave. "And I sat weary beyond expression, exulting like a conqueror, sleeplessand entranced as if before a profound, a fateful enigma. "A splashing of oars, a measured dip reverberating on the level ofwater, intensified by the silence of the shore into loud claps, made mejump up. A boat, a European boat, was coming in. I invoked the name ofthe dead; I hailed: _Judea_ ahoy! A thin shout answered. "It was the captain. I had beaten the flagship by three hours, and Iwas glad to hear the old man's voice, tremulous and tired. 'Is it you, Marlow?' 'Mind the end of that jetty, sir, ' I cried. "He approached cautiously, and brought up with the deep-sea lead-linewhich we had saved--for the under-writers. I eased my painter and fellalongside. He sat, a broken figure at the stern, wet with dew, his handsclasped in his lap. His men were asleep already. 'I had a terrible timeof it, ' he murmured. 'Mahon is behind--not very far. ' We conversedin whispers, in low whispers, as if afraid to wake up the land. Guns, thunder, earthquakes would not have awakened the men just then. "Looking around as we talked, I saw away at sea a bright light travelingin the night. 'There's a steamer passing the bay, ' I said. She was notpassing, she was entering, and she even came close and anchored. 'Iwish, ' said the old man, 'you would find out whether she is English. Perhaps they could give us a passage somewhere. ' He seemed nervouslyanxious. So by dint of punching and kicking I started one of my men intoa state of somnambulism, and giving him an oar, took another and pulledtowards the lights of the steamer. "There was a murmur of voices in her, metallic hollow clangs of theengine-room, footsteps on the deck. Her ports shone, round like dilatedeyes. Shapes moved about, and there was a shadowy man high up on thebridge. He heard my oars. "And then, before I could open my lips, the East spoke to me, but it wasin a Western voice. A torrent of words was poured into the enigmatical, the fateful silence; outlandish, angry words, mixed with words and evenwhole sentences of good English, less strange but even more surprising. The voice swore and cursed violently; it riddled the solemn peace of thebay by a volley of abuse. It began by calling me Pig, and from that wentcrescendo into unmentionable adjectives--in English. The man up thereraged aloud in two languages, and with a sincerity in his fury thatalmost convinced me I had, in some way, sinned against the harmony ofthe universe. I could hardly see him, but began to think he would workhimself into a fit. "Suddenly he ceased, and I could hear him snorting and blowing like aporpoise. I said-- "'What steamer is this, pray?' "'Eh? What's this? And who are you?' "'Castaway crew of an English barque burnt at sea. We came hereto-night. I am the second mate. The captain is in the long-boat, andwishes to know if you would give us a passage somewhere. ' "'Oh, my goodness! I say... This is the Celestial from Singapore onher return trip. I'll arrange with your captain in the morning... And, ... I say... Did you hear me just now?' "'I should think the whole bay heard you. ' "'I thought you were a shore-boat. Now, look here--this infernal lazyscoundrel of a caretaker has gone to sleep again--curse him. The lightis out, and I nearly ran foul of the end of this damned jetty. This isthe third time he plays me this trick. Now, I ask you, can anybody standthis kind of thing? It's enough to drive a man out of his mind. I'llreport him.... I'll get the Assistant Resident to give him thesack, by... See--there's no light. It's out, isn't it? I take you towitness the light's out. There should be a light, you know. A red lighton the--' "'There was a light, ' I said, mildly. "'But it's out, man! What's the use of talking like this? You can seefor yourself it's out--don't you? If you had to take a valuable steameralong this God-forsaken coast you would want a light too. I'll kick himfrom end to end of his miserable wharf. You'll see if I don't. I will--' "'So I may tell my captain you'll take us?' I broke in. "'Yes, I'll take you. Good night, ' he said, brusquely. "I pulled back, made fast again to the jetty, and then went to sleepat last. I had faced the silence of the East. I had heard some of itslanguages. But when I opened my eyes again the silence was as completeas though it had never been broken. I was lying in a flood of light, andthe sky had never looked so far, so high, before. I opened my eyes andlay without moving. "And then I saw the men of the East--they were looking at me. The wholelength of the jetty was full of people. I saw brown, bronze, yellowfaces, the black eyes, the glitter, the colour of an Eastern crowd. And all these beings stared without a murmur, without a sigh, withouta movement. They stared down at the boats, at the sleeping men who atnight had come to them from the sea. Nothing moved. The fronds of palmsstood still against the sky. Not a branch stirred along the shore, and the brown roofs of hidden houses peeped through the green foliage, through the big leaves that hung shining and still like leaves forgedof heavy metal. This was the East of the ancient navigators, so old, somysterious, resplendent and somber, living and unchanged, full ofdanger and promise. And these were the men. I sat up suddenly. A waveof movement passed through the crowd from end to end, passed alongthe heads, swayed the bodies, ran along the jetty like a ripple on thewater, like a breath of wind on a field--and all was still again. I seeit now--the wide sweep of the bay, the glittering sands, the wealth ofgreen infinite and varied, the sea blue like the sea of a dream, the crowd of attentive faces, the blaze of vivid colour--the waterreflecting it all, the curve of the shore, the jetty, the high-sternedoutlandish craft floating still, and the three boats with tired menfrom the West sleeping unconscious of the land and the people and of theviolence of sunshine. They slept thrown across the thwarts, curled onbottom-boards, in the careless attitudes of death. The head of the oldskipper, leaning back in the stern of the long-boat, had fallen on hisbreast, and he looked as though he would never wake. Farther out oldMahon's face was upturned to the sky, with the long white beard spreadout on his breast, as though he had been shot where he sat at thetiller; and a man, all in a heap in the bows of the boat, slept withboth arms embracing the stem-head and with his cheek laid on thegunwale. The East looked at them without a sound. "I have known its fascination since: I have seen the mysterious shores, the still water, the lands of brown nations, where a stealthy Nemesislies in wait, pursues, overtakes so many of the conquering race, who areproud of their wisdom, of their knowledge, of their strength. But for meall the East is contained in that vision of my youth. It is all in thatmoment when I opened my young eyes on it. I came upon it from a tusslewith the sea--and I was young--and I saw it looking at me. And this isall that is left of it! Only a moment; a moment of strength, ofromance, of glamour--of youth!... A flick of sunshine upon a strangeshore, the time to remember, the time for a sigh, and--good-bye!--Night--Good-bye... !" He drank. "Ah! The good old time--the good old time. Youth and the sea. Glamourand the sea! The good, strong sea, the salt, bitter sea, that couldwhisper to you and roar at you and knock your breath out of you. " He drank again. "By all that's wonderful, it is the sea, I believe, the sea itself--oris it youth alone? Who can tell? But you here--you all had something outof life: money, love--whatever one gets on shore--and, tell me, wasn'tthat the best time, that time when we were young at sea; young andhad nothing, on the sea that gives nothing, except hard knocks--andsometimes a chance to feel your strength--that only--what you allregret?" And we all nodded at him: the man of finance, the man of accounts, theman of law, we all nodded at him over the polished table that like astill sheet of brown water reflected our faces, lined, wrinkled; ourfaces marked by toil, by deceptions, by success, by love; our weary eyeslooking still, looking always, looking anxiously for something out oflife, that while it is expected is already gone--has passed unseen, ina sigh, in a flash--together with the youth, with the strength, with theromance of illusions.