Section 12

“Stand clear there!” Under a crowd of startled faces
98 THE NIGGER OF THE “NARCISSUS”
bending over him he lay on his back, staring upwards in a continuous and intolerable manner. In the breath¬ less silence of a general consternation, he said in a grat¬ ing murmur: — “I am all right,” and clutched with his hands. They helped him up. He mumbled despon¬ dently: — “I am getting old . . . old.” — “Not
you,” cried Belfast, with ready tact. Supported on all sides, he hung his head. — “Are you better?” they asked. He glared at them from under his eyebrows with large black eyes, spreading over his chest the bushy whiteness of a beard long and thick. — “Old! old!” he repeated sternly. Helped along, he reached his bunk. There was in it a slimy soft heap of some¬ thing that smelt, as does at dead low water a muddy foreshore. It was his soaked straw bed. With a con¬ vulsive' effort he pitched himself on it, and in the dark¬ ness of the narrow place could be heard growling angrily, like an irritated and savage anhnal 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 a deep 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 more than ever, in an impenetrable silence and with a saddened face. For many years he had heard himself called “Old Singleton,” and had serenely ac¬ cepted the qualification, taking it as a tribute of respect due to a man who through half a century had measured his strength against the favours and the rages of the'
THE NIGGER OF THE “NARCISSUS” 99
sea. He had never given a thought to his mortal self. He lived unscathed, as though he had been indestruct¬ ible, surrendering to all the temptations, weathering many gales. He had panted in sunshine, shivered in the cold; suffered hunger, thirst, debauch; passed through many trials — known all the furies. Old! It seemed to him he was broken at last. And like a man bound treacherously while he sleeps, he woke up fettered by the long chain of disregarded years. He had to take up at once the burden of all his existence, and found it almost too heavy for his strength. Old! He moved his arms, shook his head, felt his limbs. Getting old . . . and then? He looked upon
the immortal sea with the awakened and groping per¬ ception of its heartless might; he saw it unchanged, black and foaming under the eternal scrutiny of the stars; he heard its impatient voice calling for him out of a pitiless vastness full of unrest, of turmoil, and of terror. He looked afar upon it, and he saw an im¬ mensity tormented and blind, moaning and furious, that claimed all the days of his tenacious life, and, when life was over, would claim the worn-out body of its slave.
This was the last of the breeze. It veered quickly, changed to a black south-easter, and blew itself out, giving the ship a famous shove to the northward into the joyous sunshine of the trade. Rapid and white she ran homewards in a straight path, under a blue sky and upon the plain of a blue sea. She carried Single¬ ton’s completed wisdom, Donkin’s delicate suscep¬ tibilities, and the conceited folly of us all. The hours of ineffective turmoil were forgotten; the fear and an¬ guish of these dark moments were never mentioned in the glowing peace of fine days. Yet from that time
100 THE NIGGER OF THE “NARCISSUS”
our life seemed to start afresh as though we had died and had been resuscitated. All the first part of the voyage, the Indian Ocean on the other side of the Cape, all that was lost in a haze, like an ineradicable suspicion of some previous existence. It had ended — then there were blank hours: a livid blurr — and again we lived! Singleton was possessed of sinister truth; Mr. Creighton of a damaged leg; the cook of fame — and shamefully abused the opportunities of his distinction. Donkin had an added grievance. He went about repeating with insistence: — “ ’E said ’e wTould brain me — did yer ’ear? They are goin’ to murder us now for the least little thing.” We began at last to think it was rather awful. And we were conceited! We boasted of our pluck, of our capacity for work, of our energy. We remembered honourable episodes: our devotion, our indomitable perseverance — and were proud of them as though they had been the outcome of our unaided impulses. We remembered our danger, our toil — and conveniently forgot our horrible scare. We decried our officers — who had done nothing — and listened to the fascinating Donkin. His care for our rights, his disinterested concern for our dignity, were not discour¬ aged by the invariable contumely of our words, by the disdain of our looks. Our contempt for him was unbounded — and we could not but listen with interest to that consummate artist. He told us we were good men — a “bloomin’ condemned lot of good men.” Who thanked us? Who took any notice of our wrongs? Didn’t we lead a “dorg’s loife for two poun’ ten a month?” Did we think that miserable pay enough to compensate us for the risk to our lives and for the loss of our clothes? “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—
THE NIGGER OF THE “NARCISSUS” 101
this ’ere Donkin’s a long-headed chap, though no kind of man, anyhow. The Scandinavians were frightened at his audacities; Wamibo did not understand; and the older seamen thoughtfully nodded their heads making the thin gold earrings glitter in the fleshy lobes of hairy ears. Severe, sunburnt faces were propped medita¬ tively on tattooed forearms. Veined, brown fists held in their knotted grip the dirty white clay of smoulder¬ ing pipes. They listened, impenetrable, broad-backed, with bent shoulders, and in grim silence. He talked with ardour, despised and irrefutable. His picturesque and filthy loquacity flowed like a troubled stream from a poisoned source. His beady little eyes danced, glanc¬ ing right and left, ever on the watch for the approach of an officer. Sometimes Mr. Baker going forward to take a look at the head sheets would roll with his un¬ couth gait through the sqdden stillness of the men; or Mr. Creighton limped along, smooth-faced, youthful, and more stern than ever, piercing our short silence with a keen glance of his clear eyes. Behind his back Donkin would begin again darting stealthy, sidelong looks. — “ ’Ere’s one of ’em. Some of yer ’as made ’im fast that day. Much thanks yer got for it. Ain’t ’ee a-drivin’ yer wusse’n ever? . . . Let ’im slip overboard. . . . Vy not? It would ’ave been
less trouble. Vy not?” He advanced confidentially, backed away with great effect; he whispered, he screamed, waved his miserable arms no thicker than pipe-stems — stretched his lean neck — spluttered — squinted. In the pauses of his impassioned orations the wind sighed quietly aloft, the calm sea unheeded murmured in a warning whisper along the ship’s side. We abominated the creature and could not deny the luminous truth of his contentions. It was all so obvi¬ ous. We were indubitably good men; our deserts were
102 THE NIGGER OF THE “NARCISSUS”
great and our pay small. Through our exertions we had saved the 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?” and we could not answer. We were oppressed by the injustice of the world, surprised to perceive how long we had lived under its burden without realising our unfortunate state, annoyed by the uneasy suspicion of our 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 intel¬ lectual shortcomings; though from that time we re¬ frained 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 flattened noses. Charley, much subdued since the gale, did not jeer at him. Knowles deferentially and with a crafty air propounded ques¬ tions such as: — “Could we all have the same grub as the mates? Could we all stop ashore till we got it? What would be the next thing to try for if we got that? ” He answered readily with contemptuous certitude; he strutted with assurance in clothes that were much too big for him as though he had tried to disguise him¬ self. These were Jimmy’s clothes mostly — though he would accept anything from anybody; but nobody, except Jimmy, had anything to spare. His devotion to Jimmy was unbounded. He was for ever dodging in the little cabin, ministering to Jimmy’s wants, hu¬ mouring his whims, submitting to his exacting peevish¬ ness, 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
THE NIGGER OF THE “NARCISSUS” 10S
done on deck. Mr. Baker had on two occasions jerked him out from there by the scruff of the neck to our in¬ expressible scandal. Was a sick chap to be left with¬ out attendance? Were we to be ill-used for attending a shipmate? — “What?” growled Mr. Baker, turning menacingly at the mutter, and the whole half-circle like one man stepped back a pace. “Set the topmast stunsail. Away aloft, Donkin, overhaul the gear,” ordered the mate inflexibly. “Fetch the sail along; bend the down -haul clear. Bear a hand.” Then, the sail set, he would go slowly aft and stand looking at the compass for a long time, careworn, pensive, and breathing hard as if stifled by the taint of unaccount¬ able ill-will that pervaded the ship. “What’s up amongst them?” he thought. “Can’t make out this hanging back and growling. A good crowd, too, as they go nowadays.” On deck the men exchanged bitter words, suggested by a silly exasperation against something unjust and irremediable that would not be denied, and would whisper into their ears long ‘after Donkin had ceased speaking. Our little world went on its curved and unswerving path carrying a discon¬ tented and aspiring population. They found comfort of a gloomy kind in an interminable and conscientious analysis of their unappreciated worth; and inspired by Donkin’s hopeful doctrines they dreamed enthusiasti¬ cally of the time when every lonely ship would travel over a serene sea, manned by a wealthy and well-fed crew of satisfied skippers.
It looked as if it would be a long passage. The south-east trades, light and unsteady, were left behind; and then, on the equator and under a low grey sky, the ship, in close heat, floated upon a smooth sea that re¬ sembled a sheet of ground glass. Thunder squalls hung on the horizon, circled round the ship, far cff and
104 THE NIGGER OF THE “NARCISSUS”
growling angrily, like a troop of wild beasts afraid to charge home. The invisible sun, sweeping above the upright masts, made on the clouds a blurred stain of rayless light, and a similar patch of faded radiance kept pace with it from east to west over the unglittering level of the waters. At night, through the impene¬ trable darkness of earth and heaven, broad sheets of flame waved noiselessly; and for half a second the be¬ calmed craft stood out with its masts and rigging, with every sail and every rope distinct and black in the cen¬ tre of a fiery outburst, like a charred ship enclosed in a globe of fire. And, again, for long hours she remained lost in a vast universe of night and silence where gentle sighs wandering here and there like forlorn souls, made the still sails flutter as in sudden fear, and the ripple of a beshrouded ocean whisper its compassion afar — in a voice mournful, immense, and faint. . . .
When the lamp was put out, and through the door thrown wide open, Jimmy, turning on his pillow, could 3ee vanishing beyond the straight line of top-gallant rail, the quick, repeated visions of a fabulous wrorld made up of leaping fire and sleeping water. The light¬ ning gleamed in his big sad eyes that seemed in a red flicker to burn themselves out in his black face, and then he would lie blinded and invisible in the midst of an intense darkness. He could hear on the quiet deck soft footfalls, the breathing of some man lounging on the doorstep; the low creak of swaying masts; or the calm voice of the watch-officer reverberating aloft, hard and loud, amongst the unstirring sails. He lis¬ tened with avidity, taking a rest in the attentive per¬ ception of the slightest sound from the fatiguing wander¬ ings of his sleeplessness. He was cheered by the rattl¬ ing of blocks, reassured by the stir and murmur of the
THE NIGGER OF THE “NARCISSUS” 105
watch, soothed by the slow yawn of some sleepy and weary seaman settling himself deliberately for a snooze on the planks. Life seemed an indestructible thing. It went on in darkness, in sunshine, in sleep; tireless, it hovered affectionately round the imposture of his ready death. It was bright, like the twisted flare of lightning, and more full of surprises than the dark night. It made him safe, and the calm of its overpowering darkness was as precious as its restless and dangerous light.
But in the evening, in the dog-watches, and even far into the first night-watch, a knot of men could always be seen congregated before Jimmy’s cabin. They leaned on each side of the door peacefully interested and with crossed legs; they stood astride the doorstep discoursing, or sat in silent couples on his sea-chest; while against the bulwark along the spare topmast, three or four in a row stared meditatively; with their simple faces lit up by the projected glare of Jimmy’s lamp. The little place, repainted white, had, in the night, the brilliance of a silver shrine where a black idol, reclining stiffly under a blanket, blinked its weary eyes and received our homage. Donkin officiated. He had the air of a demonstrator showing a phenom¬ enon, a manifestation bizarre, simple, and meritorious that, to the beholders, should be a profound and an everlasting lesson. “Just look at ’im, ’ee knows what’s what — never fear!” he exclaimed now and then, flour¬ ishing a hand hard and fleshless like the claw of a snipe. .Timmy, on his back, smiled with reserve and without moving a limb. He affected the languor of extreme weakness, so as to make it manifest to us that our delay in hauling him out from his horrible confinement, and then that night spent on the poop among our selfish neglect of his needs, had “done for him.” He rather
106 THE NIGGER OF THE “NARCISSUS”
liked to talk about it, and of course we were always interested. He spoke spasmodically, in fast rushes with long pauses between, as a tipsy man walks. . . .
“Cook had just given me a pannikin of hot coffee. . . . Slapped it down there, on my chest —
banged the door to. ... I felt a heavy roll
coming; tried to save my coffee, burnt my fingers
. . . and fell out of my bunk. . . . She
went over so quick. . . . Water came in
through the ventilator. ... I couldn’t move the door . . . dark as a grave . . . tried to scramble up into the upper berth. . . . Rats ... a rat bit my finger as I got up.
. . . I could hear him swimming below me.
. . . I thought you would never come. . . ,
I thought you were all gone overboard ... of course . . . Could hear nothing but the wind.
. . . Then you came ... to look 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 scare any one. ... I
didn’t know what you were up to. . . . Bash
in the blamed planks . . . my head.
Just what a silly, scary gang of fools would do. . . .
Not much good to me anyhow. . . . Just as well . . . drown. . . . Pah.”
He groaned, snapped his big white teeth, and gazed with scorn. Belfast lifted a pair of dolorous eyes, with a broken-hearted smile, clenched his fists stealthily; blue-eyed Archie caressed his red whiskers with a hesitating hand; the boatswain at the door stared a moment, and brusquely went away with a loud guffaw. Wamibo dreamed. . . . Donkin felt all over
THE NIGGER OF THE “NARCISSUS” 107