Section 11

88 THE NIGGER OF THE “NARCISSUS”
ing all together. The ship trembled, trying to lift her side, lurched back, seemed to give up with a nerve¬ less dip, and suddenly with an unexpected jerk swung violently to windward, as though she had torn herself out from a deadly grasp. The whole immense volume of water, lifted by her deck, was thrown bodily across to starboard. Loud cracks were heard. Iron ports breaking open thundered with ringing blows. The water topped over the starboard rail with the rush of a river falling over a dam. The sea on deck, and the seas on every side of her, mingled together in a deafen¬ ing roar. She rolled violently. We got up and were helplessly run or flung about from side to side. Men, rolling over and over, yelled, — “The house will go!” — “She clears herself!” Lifted by a towering sea she ran along with it for a moment, spouting thick streams of water through every opening of her wounded sides. The lee braces having been carried away or washed off the pins, all the ponderous yards on the fore swung from side to side and with appalling rapidity at every roll. The men forward were seen crouching here and there with fearful glances upwrards at the enormous spars that whirled about over their heads. The tom canvas and the ends of broken gear streamed in the wind like wisps of hair. Through the clear sunshine, over the flashing turmoil and uproar of the seas, the ship ran blindly, dishevelled and headlong, as if fleeing for her life; and on the poop we spun, we tottered about, distracted and noisy. We all spoke at once in a thin babble; we had the aspect of invalids and the gestures of maniacs. Eyes shone, large and haggard, in smiling, meagre faces that seemed to have been dusted over with powdered chalk. We stamped, clapped our hands, feeling ready to jump and do any¬ thing; but in reality hardly able to keep on our feet.
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Captain Allistoun, hard and slim, gesticulated madly from the poop at Air. Baker: “Steady these fore-yards! Steady them the best you can!” On the main deck, men excited by his cries, splashed, dashing aimlessly here and there with the foam swirling up to their waists. Apart, far aft, and alone by the helm, old Singleton had deliberately tucked his white beard under the top button of his glistening coat. Swaying upon the din and tumult of the seas, with the whole battered length of the ship launched forward in a rolling rush before his steady old eyes, he stood rigidly still, forgotten by all, and with an attentive face. In front of his erect figure only the two arms moved crosswise with a swift and sudden readiness, to check or urge again the rapid stir of circling spokes. He steered with care.
CHAPTER FOUR
On men reprieved by its disdainful mercy, the im¬ mortal sea confers in its justice the full privilege of desired unrest. Through the perfect wisdom of its grace they are not permitted to meditate at ease upon the complicated and acrid savour of existence. They must without pause justify their life to the eternal pity that commands toil to be hard and unceasing, from sunrise to sunset, from sunset to sunrise; till the weary succession of nights and days tainted by the obstinate clamour of sages, demanding bliss and an empty heaven, is redeemed at last by the vast silence of pain and labour, by the dumb fear and the dumb courage of men obscure, forgetful, and enduring.
The master and Mr. Baker coming face to face stared for a moment, with the intense and amazed looks of men meeting unexpectedly after years of trouble. Their voices were gone, and they whispered desper¬ ately at one another. — “Any one missing?” asked Captain Allistoun. — “No. All there.” — “Anybody hurt?” — “Only the second mate.” — “I will look after him directly. We’re lucky.” — “Very,” articulated Mr. Baker, faintly. He gripped the rail and rolled bloodshot eyes. The little grey man made an effort to raise his voice above a dull mutter, and fixed his chief mate with a cold gaze, piercing like a dart. — “Get sail on the ship,” he said, speaking authoritatively and with an inflexible snap of his thin lips. “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.
90
THE NIGGER OF THE “NARCISSUS” 91
They will get done up and stiff, and we will never . . . We must get her along now” . . . He
reeled to a long heavy roll; the rail dipped into the glancing, hissing water. He caught a shroud, swung helplessly against the mate . . . “now we
have a fair wind at last - Make — —sail.” His head
rolled from shoulder to shoulder. His eyelids began
to beat rapidly. “And the pumps - pumps, Mr.
Baker.” He peered as though the face within a foot of his eyes had been half a mile off. “Keep the men on the move to — — to get her along,” 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 said with a painful attempt at a smile. He let go his hold, and, propelled by the dip of the ship, ran aft unwillingly, with small steps, till lie brought up against the, binnacle stand. Hanging on there he looked up in an aimless manner at Singleton, who, unheeding him, watched anxiously the 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 had been rattling together before they could come out. — “Steers . . . like a lit¬
tle boat,” he said, at last, with hoarse tenderness, without giving the master as much as half a glance — • then, watchfully, spun the wheel down, steadied, flung it back again. Captain Allistoun tore himself away from the delight of leaning against the binnacle, and began to walk the poop, swaying and reeling to preserve his balance. . . .
The pump-rods, clanking, stamped in short jumps while the fly-wheels turned smoothly, with great speed, at the foot of the mainmast, flinging back and forth with a regular impetuosity two limp clusters of men. clinging to the handles. They abandoned themselves.
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swaying from the hip with twitching faces and stony eyes. The carpenter, sounding from time to time, ex¬ claimed mechanically: “Shake her up! Keep her going!” Mr. Baker could not speak, but found his voice to shout; and under the goad of his objurgations, men looked to the lashings, dragged out new sails; and thinking themselves unable to move, carried heavy blocks aloft — overhauled the gear. They went up the rigging with faltering and desperate efforts. Their heads swam as they shifted their hold, stepped blindly on the yards like men in the dark; or trusted themselves to the first rope at hand with the negligence of exhausted strength. The narrow escapes from falls did not dis¬ turb the languid beat of their hearts; the roar of the seas seething far below them sounded continuous and faint like an indistinct noise from another world : the wind filled their eyes with tears, and with heavy gusts tried to push them off from where they swayed in in¬ secure positions. With streaming faces and blowing hair they flew up and down between sky and water, bestriding the ends of yard-arms, crouching on foot- ropes, embracing lifts to have their hands free, or stand¬ ing up against chain ties. Their thoughts floated vaguely between the desire of rest and the desire of life, while their stiffened fingers cast off head-earrings, fumbled for knives, or held with tenacious grip against the violent shocks of beating canvas. They glared savagely at one another, made frantic signs with one hand while they held their life in the other, looked down on the narrow strip of flooded deck, shouted along to lee¬ ward: “Light-to!” . . . “Haul out!” . . .
“Make fast!”t Their lips moved, their eyes started, furious and eager with the desire to be understood, but the wind tossed their words unheard upon the dis¬ turbed sea. In an unendurable and unending strain
THE NIGGER OF THE “NARCISSUS” 93
they worked like men driven by a merciless dream to toil in an atmosphere of ice or flame. They burnt and shivered in turns. Their eyeballs smarted as if in the smoke of a conflagration; their heads were ready to burst with every shout. Hard fingers seemed to grip their throats. At every roll they thought: Now I must let go. It will shake us all off — and thrown about aloft they cried wildly: “Look out there — catch the end.” . . . “Reeve clear” . . . “Turn
this block. ...” They nodded desperately; shook infuriated faces, “No! No! From down up.” They seemed to hate one another with a deadly hate, The longing to be done with it all gnawed their breasts, and the wish to do things well was a burning pain. They cursed their fate, contemned their life, and wasted their breath in deadly imprecations upon one another. The sail maker, with his bald head bared, worked fever¬ ishly, forgetting his intimacy with so many admirals. The boatswain, climbing up with marlinspikes and bunches of spunyarn rovings, or kneeling on the yard and ready to take a turn with the midship-stop, had acute and fleeting visions of his old woman and the youngsters in a moorland village. Mr. Baker, feeling very weak, tottered here and there, grunting and in¬ flexible, like a man of iron. He waylaid those who, coming from aloft, stood gasping for breath. He or¬ dered, encouraged, scolded. “Now then — to the main topsail now! Tally on to that gantline. Don t stand about there!”— “Is there no rest for us?” .muttered voices. He spun round fiercely, with a sinking heart. — “No! No rest till the work is done. Work till you drop. That’s what you’re here for.” A bowed sea¬ man at his elbow gave a short laugh. — “Do or die,” he croaked bitterly, then spat into his broad palms, swung up his long arms, and grasping the rope high above,
94 THE NIGGER OF THE “NARCISSUS”
his head sent out a mournful, wailing cry for a pull all together. A sea boarded the quarter-deck and 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 down wTith 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 it had been the fortune of their life. The ship ran, rolling heavily, and the top¬ ping crests glanced past port and starboard flashing their white heads. Pumps were freed. Braces wrere rove. The three topsails and foresail were set. She spurted faster over the water, outpacing the swift rush of waves. The menacing thunder of distanced seas rose behind her — filled the air with the tremendous vibrations of its voice. And devastated, battered, and wounded she drove foaming to the northward, as though inspired by the courage of a high endeav¬ our. . . .
The forecastle was a place of damp desolation. They looked at their dwelling with dismay. It was slimy, dripping; it hummed hollow with the wand, and was strewn with shapeless wreckage like a half-tide cavern in a rocky and exposed coast. Many had lost all they had in the world, but most of the starboard watch had preserved their chests; thin streams of water trickled out of them, however. The beds were soaked ; the blankets spread out and saved by some nail squashed under foot. They dragged wet rags from evil-smelling corners, and wringing the water out, recognised their property. Some smiled stiffly. Others looked round blank and mute. There were cries of joy over old waistcoats, and groans of sorrow over shapeless things found among the splinters of smashed
THE NIGGER OF THE “NARCISSUS” 95
bed boards. One lamp was discovered jammed under the bowsprit. Charley whimpered a little. Knowles stumped here and there, sniffing, examining dark places for salvage. He poured dirty water out of a boot, and was concerned to find the owner. Those who, over¬ whelmed by their losses, sat on the forepeak hatch, remained elbows on knees, and, with a fist against each cheek, disdained to look up. He pushed it under their noses. “ Here’s a 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 good boot,” but remembering suddenly that he had lost every stitch of his clothing, he dropped his find and began to swear. In the dim light cursing voices clashed. A man came in and, dropping his arms, stood still, repeating from the doorstep, “Here’s a bloomin’ old go! Here’s a bloomin’ old go!” A few rooted anxiously in flooded chests for tobacco. They breathed hard, clamoured wdth heads down. “Look at that Jack!” . . . “Here! Sam! Here’s my
shore-going rig spoilt for ever.” One blasphemed tearfully, holding up a pair of dripping trousers. No one looked at him. The cat came out from somewhere. He had an ovation. They snatched him from hand to hand, caressed him in a murmur of pet names. They wondered where he had “weathered it out;” dis¬ puted about it. A squabbling argument began. Two men brought in a bucket of fresh water, and all crowded round it; but Tom, lean and mewing, came up with every hair astir and had the first drink. A couple of hands went aft for oil and biscuits.
Then in the yellow light and in the intervals of mop- ping the deck they crunched hard bread, arranging to “worry through somehow.” Men chummed as to beds. Turns were settled for wearing boots and having
96 THE NIGGER OF THE “NARCISSUS”
the use of oilskin coats. They called one another “old man” and “sonny” in cheery voices. Friendly slaps resounded. Jokes were shouted. One or two stretched on the wet deck, slept with heads pillowed on their bent arms, and several, sitting on the hatch, smoked. Their weary faces appeared through a thin blue haze, pacified and with sparkling eyes. The boatswain put his head through the door. “Relieve the wheel, one of you” — he shouted inside — “it’s six. Blamme if that old Singleton hasn’t been there more’n thirty hours. You are a fine lot.” He slammed the door again. “Mate’s watch on deck,” said some one. “Hey, Donkin, it’s your relief!” shouted three or four together. He had crawled into an empty bunk and on wet planks lay still. “Donkin, your wheel.” He made no sound. “Donkin’s dead,” guffawed some one. “ Sell ’is bloomin’ clothes,” shouted another. “ Donkin, if ye don’t go to the bloomin’ wheel they will sell your clothes — d’ye hear?” jeered a third. He groaned from his dark hole. He complained about pains in all his bones, he whimpered pitifully. “He won’t go,” ex¬ claimed a contemptuous voice, “your turn, Davis.” The young seaman rose painfully, squaring his shoul¬ ders. Donkin stuck his head out, and it appeared in the yellow light, fragile and ghastly. “I will giv’ yer a pound of tobaccer,” he whined in a conciliating voice, “so soon as I draw it from aft. I will — s’elp me . . .” Davis swung his arm backhanded and the head van¬ ished. “I’ll go,” he said, “but you will pay for it.” He walked unsteady but resolute to the door. “So I will,” yelped Donkin, popping out behind him. “So I will — s’elp me ... a pound . . . three
bob they chawrge.” Davis flung the door open. “You will pay my price ... in fine weather,” he shouted over his shoulder. One of the men unbut-
THE NIGGER OF THE “NARCISSUS” 97
toned his wet coat rapidly, threw it at his head. “Here, Taffy — take that, you thief!” “Thank you!” he cried from the darkness above the swish of rolling water. He could be heard splashing; a sea came on board with a thump. “He’s got his bath already,” remarked a grim shellback. “Aye, aye!” grunted others. Then, after a long silence, Wamibo made strange noises. “Hallo, what’s up with you?” said some one grumpily. “He says he would have gone for Davy,” explained Archie, who was the Finn’s inter¬ preter generally. “I believe him!” 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. Singleton stepped in, advanced tw paces, and stood swaying slightly. The sea hissed, flowed roaring past the bows, and the forecastle trem¬ bled, full of deep murmurs; the lamp flared, swinging like a pendulum. He looked with a dreamy and puzzled stare, as though he could not distinguish the still men from their restless shadows. There were awestruck exclamations:— “Hallo, hallo” . . . “How does
it look outside now, Singleton?” Those who sat on the hatch lifted their eyes in silence, and the next oldest seaman in the ship (those two understood one another, though they hardly exchanged three words in a day) gazed up at his friend attentively for a moment, then taking a short clay pipe out of his mouth, offered it without a word. Singleton put out his arm towards it, missed, staggered, and suddenly fell forward, crash¬ ing down, stiff and headlong like an uprooted tree. There was a swift rush. Men pushed, crying: — “He’s done!” . . . “Turn him over!” . . .