Section 5

They were forgetting their toil, they were forgetting themselves. The cook approached to hear, and stood by, beaming with the inward consciousness of his faith, like a conceited saint unable to forget his glorious re¬ ward; Donkin, solitary and brooding over his wrongs
THE NIGGER OF THE “NARCISSUS” 33
on the forecastle-head, moved closer to catch the drift of the discussion below him; he turned his sallow face to the sea, and his thin nostrils moved, sniffing the breeze, as he lounged negligently by the rail. In the glow of sunset faces shone with interest, teeth flashed, eyes sparkled. The walking couples stood still sud¬ denly, with broad grins; a man, bending over a wash- tub, sat up, entranced, with the soapsuds flecking his wet arms. Even the three petty officers listened lean¬ ing back, comfortably propped, and with superior smiles. Belfast left off scratching the ear of his fa¬ vourite pig, and, open mouthed, tried with eager eyes to have his say. He lifted his arms, grimacing and baf¬ fled. From a distance Charley screamed at the ring: — “I know about gentlemen more’n any of you. I’ve been intermit with ’em. . . . I’ve blacked their
boots.” The cook, craning his neck to hear better, was scandalised. “Keep your mouth shut when your elders speak, you impudent young heathen — you.” “All right, old Hallelujah, I’m done,” answered Charley, soothingly. At some opinion of dirty Knowles, deliv¬ ered with an air of supernatural cunning, a ripple of laughter ran along, rose like a wave, burst with a start¬ ling roar. They stamped with both feet; they turned their shouting faces to the sky; many, spluttering, slapped their thighs; while one or two, bent double, gasped, hugging themselves with both arms like men in pain. The carpenter and the boatswain, without changing their attitude, shook with laughter where they sat; the sailmaker, charged with an anecdote about a Commodore, looked sulky; the cook was wiping his eyes with a greasy rag; and lame Knowles, astonished at his own success, stood in their midst showing a slow smile.
Suddenly the face of Donkin leaning high-shouldered
34 THE NIGGER OF THE “ NARCISSUS
over the after-rail became grave. Something like a weak rattle was heard through the forecastle door. It became a murmur; it ended in a sighing groan. The washerman plunged both his arms into the tub abruptly; the cook became more crestfallen than an exposed back¬ slider; the boatswain moved his shoulders uneasily; the carpenter got up with a spring and walked away — while the sailmaker seemed mentally to give his story up, and began to puff at his pipe with sombre determina¬ tion. In the blackness of the doorway a pair of eyes glimmered white, and big, and staring. Then James Wait’s, head protruding, became visible, as if sus¬ pended between the two hands that grasped a doorpost on each side of the face. The tassel of his blue woollen nightcap, cocked forward, danced gaily over his left eyelid. He stepped out in a tottering stride. He looked powerful as ever, but showed a strange and af¬ fected unsteadiness in his gait; his face was perhaps a trifle thinner, and his eyes appeared rather startlingly prominent. He seemed to hasten the retreat of depart¬ ing light by his very presence; the setting sun dipped sharply, as though fleeing before our nigger; a black mist emanated from him; a subtle and dismal influence; a something cold and gloomy that floated out and set¬ tled on all the faces like a mourning veil. The circle broke up. The joy of laughter died on stiffened lips. There was not a smile left among all the ship’s com¬ pany. Not a word was spoken. Many turned their backs, trying to look unconcerned; others, with averted heads, sent half-reluctant glances out of the comers of their eyes. They resembled criminals conscious of misdeeds more than honest men distracted by doubt; only two or three stared frankly, but stupidly, with lips slightly open. All expected James Wait to say something, and, at the same time, had the air of know-
THE NIGGER OF THE “NARCISSUS” 35
ing beforehand what he would say. He leaned his back against the doorpost, and with heavy eyes swept over them a glance domineering and pained, like a sick tyrant overawing a crowd of abject but untrustworthy slaves.
No one went away. They waited in fascinated dread. He said ironically, with gasps between the words : —
“Thank you . . . chaps. You . . . are
nice . . . and . . . quiet . . . you are!
Yelling so . . . before . . . the door. . . .”
He made a longer pause, during which he worked his ribs in an exaggerated labour of breathing. It was in¬ tolerable. Feet were shuffled. Belfast let out a
groan; but Donkin above blinked his red eyelids with invisible eyelashes, and smiled bitterly over the nigger’s head.
The nigger went on again with surprising ease. He gasped no more, and his voice rang, hollow and loud, as though he had been talking in an empty cavern. He was contemptuously angry.
“I tried to get a wink of sleep. You know I can’t sleep o’ nights. And you come jabbering near the door here like a blooming lot of old women. . . . You
think yourselves good shipmates. Do you?
Much you care for a dying man ! ”
Belfast spun away from the pigstye. “Jimmy,” he cried tremulously, “if you hadn’t been sick I would - ”
He stopped. The nigger waited awhile, then said, in a gloomy tone: — “You would. . . . What?
Go an’ fight another such one as yourself. Leave me alone. It won’t be for long. I’ll soon die.
It’s coming right enough!”
Men stood around very still and with exasperated
36 THE NIGGER OF THE “NARCISSUS”
eyes. It was just what they had expected, and hated to hear, that idea of a stalking death, thrust at them many times a day like a boast and like a menace by this obnoxious nigger. He seemed to take a pride in that death which, so far, had attended only upon the ease of his life; he was overbearing about it, as if no one else in the world had ever been intimate with such a com¬ panion; he paraded it unceasingly before us with an affectionate persistence that made its presence indubi¬ table, and at the same time incredible. No man could be suspected of such monstrous friendship! Was he a reality— or was he a sham — this ever-expected visitor of Jimmy’s? We hesitated between pity and mistrust, while, on the slightest provocation, he shook before our eyes the bones of his bothersome and infamous skeleton. He was for ever trotting him out. He would talk of that coming death as though it had been already there, as if it had been walking the deck outside, as if it would presently come in to sleep in the only empty bunk; as if it had sat by his side at every meal. It interfered daily with our occupations, with our leisure, with our amusements. We had no songs and no music in the evening, because Jimmy (we all lovingly called him Jimmy, to conceal our hate of his accomplice) had man¬ aged, with that prospective decease of his, to disturb even Archie’s mental balance. Archie was the owner of the concertina; but after a couple of stinging lectures from Jimmy he refused to play any more. He said: — “Yon’s an uncanny joker. I dinna ken what’s wrang wi’ him, but there’s something verra wrang, verra wrang. It’s nae manner of use asking me. I won’t play.” Our singers became mute because Jimmy was a dying man. For the same reason no chap — as Knowles remarked — could “drive in a nail to hang his few poor rags upon,” without being made aware of the enormity
THE NIGGER OF THE “NARCISSUS” 37
he committed in disturbing Jimmy’s interminable last moments. At night, instead of the cheerful yell, “One bell! Turnout! Do you hear there? Hey! hey! hey! Show leg!” the watches were called man by man, in whispers, so as not to interfere with Jimmy’s, possibly, last slumber on earth. True, he was always awake, and managed, as we sneaked out on deck, to plant in our backs some cutting remark that, for the moment, made us feel as if we had been brutes, and afterwards made us suspect ourselves of being fools. We spoke in low tones wdthin that fo’c’sle as though it had been a church. We ate our meals in silence and dread, for Jimmy was ca¬ pricious with his food, and railed bitterly at the salt meat, at the biscuits, at the tea, as at articles unfit for human consumption — “let alone for a dying man!” He would say: — “Can’t you find a better slice of meat for a sick man who’s trying to get home to be cured — or buried? But there! If I had a chance, you fellows would do away with it. You would poison me. Look at what you have given me!” We served him in his bed with rage and humility, as though we had been the base courtiers of a hated prince; and he rewarded us by his unconciliating criticism. He had found the secret of keeping for ever on the run the fundamental imbecility of mankind; he had the secret of life, that confounded dying man, and he made himself master of every moment of our existence. We grew desperate, and remained submissive. Emotional little Belfast was for ever on the verge of assault or on the verge of tears. One evening he confided to Archie:— “For a ha’penny I would knock his ugly black head off — the skulking dodger!” And the straightforward Archie pretended to be shocked! Such was the infernal spell which that casual St. Kitt’s nigger had cast upon our guileless manhood! But the same night Belfast stole
38 THE NIGGER OF THE “NARCISSUS”
from the galley the officers’ Sunday fruit pie, to tempt the fastidious appetite of Jimmy. He endangered not only his long friendship with the cook but also — as it appeared — his eternal welfare. The cook was over¬ whelmed with grief ; he did not know the culprit but he knew that wickedness flourished; he knew that Satan was abroad amongst those men, whom he looked upon as in some way under his spiritual care. Whenever he saw three or four of us standing together he wrould leave his stove, to run out and preach. We fled from him; and only Charley (who knew the thief) affronted the cook with a candid gaze which irritated the good man. “It’s you, I believe,” he groaned, sorrowful and with a patch of soot on his chin. “It’s you. You are a brand for the burning! No more of your socks in my galley.” Soon, unofficially, the information wTas spread about that, should there be another case of stealing, our marmalade (an extra allowance: half a pound per man) would be stopped. Mr. Baker ceased to heap jocular abuse upon his favourites, and grunted suspiciously at all. The captain’s cold eyes, high up on the poop, glittered mistrustful, as he surveyed us trooping in a small mob from halyards to braces for the usual evening pull at all the ropes. Such stealing in a merchant ship is difficult to check, and may be taken as a declaration by men of their dislike for their officers. It is a bad symptom. It may end in God knows what trouble. The Narcissus was still a peaceful ship, but mutual confidence was shaken. Donkin did not con¬ ceal his delight. We were dismayed.
Then illogical Belfast reproached our nigger with great fury. James Wait, with his elbow on the pillow, choked, gasped out: — “Did I ask you to bone the dratted thing? Blow your blamed pie. It has made me worse — you little Irish lunatic, you!” Belfast,
THE NIGGER OF THE “NARCISSUS” 39
with scarlet face and trembling lips, made a dash at him. Every man in the forecastle rose with a shout. There was a moment of wild tumult. Some one shrieked piercingly: — “Easy, Belfast! Easy! . . .”
We expected Belfast to strangle Wait without more ado. Dust flew. We heard through it the nigger’s cough, metallic and explosive like a gong. Next moment we saw Belfast hanging over him. He was saying plaint¬ ively: — “Don’t! Don’t, Jimmy! Don’t be like that. An angel couldn’t put up with ye — sick as ye are.” He looked round at us from Jimmy’s bedside, his com¬ ical mouth twitching, and through tearful eyes; then he tried to put straight the disarranged blankets. The unceasing whisper of the sea filled the forecastle. Was James Wait frightened, or touched, or repentant? He lay on his back with a hand to his side, and as motion¬ less as if his expected visitor had come at last. Belfast fumbled about his feet, repeating with emotion:— “Yes. We know. Ye are bad, but. . . . Just
say what ye want done, and. . . . We all know ye
are bad — very bad. . . No! Decidedly James
Wait was not touched or repentant. Truth to say, he seemed rather startled. He sat up with incredible suddenness and ease. “Ah! You think I am bad, do you?” he said gloomily, in his clearest baritone voice (to hear him speak sometimes you would never think there was anything wrong with that man). “Do you? . . . Well, act according! Some of you haven’t
sense enough to put a blanket sh/pshape over a sick man. There! Leave it alone! I can die anyhow!” Belfast turned away limply with a gesture of discour¬ agement. In the silence of the forecastle, full of inter¬ ested men, Donkin pronounced distinctly “ Well, I’m bio wed ! ” and sniggered. Wait looked at him. He looked at him in a quite friendly manner. Nobody
40 THE NIGGER OF THE “NARCISSUS”
could tell what would please our incomprehensible invalid: but for us the scorn of that snigger was hard to bear.
Donkin’s position in the forecastle was distinguished but unsafe. He stood on the bad eminence of a general dislike. He was left alone; and in his isolation he could do nothing but think of the gales of the Cape of Good Hope and envy us the possession of warm clothing and waterproofs. Our sea-boots, our oilskin coats, our well-filled sea-chests, were to him so many causes for bitter meditation : he had none of those things, and he felt instinctively that no man, when the need arose, would offer to share them with him. He was impu¬ dently cringing to us and systematically insolent to the officers. He anticipated the best results, for him¬ self, from such a line of conduct— and was mistaken. Such natures forget that under extreme provocation men will be just — whether they want to be so or not. Donkin’s insolence to long-suffering Mr. Baker became at last intolerable to us, and we rejoiced when the mate, one dark night, tamed him for good. It was done neatly, with great decency and decorum, and with little noise. We had been called — just before midnight— to trim the yards, and Donkin — as usual — made in¬ sulting remarks. We stood sleepily in a row with the forebrace in our hands waiting for the next order, and heard in the darkness a scuffly trampling of feet, an exclamation of surprise, sounds of cuffs and slaps, suppressed, hissing whispers: — “All! Will you!” . . . “Don’t! . . . Don’t!” . . . “Then
behave.” . . . “Oh! Oh! . . .” Afterwards
there were soft thuds mixed with the rattle of iron things as if a man’s body had been tumbling helplessly amongst the main-pump rods. Before we could realise the situation, Mr. Baker’s voice was heard very near
THE NIGGER OF THE “NARCISSUS” 41
and a little impatient: — “Haul away, men! Lay back on that rope!” And we did lay back on the rope with great alacrity. As if nothing had happened, the chief mate went on trimming the yards with his usual and exasperating fastidiousness. We didn’t at the time see anything of Donkin, and did not care. Had the chief officer thrown him overboard, no man would have said as much as “Hallo! he’s gone!” But, in truth, no great harm was done — even if Donkin did lose one of his front teeth. We perceived this in the morning, and preserved a ceremonious silence: the etiquette of the forecastle commanded us to be blind and dumb in such a case, and we cherished the decencies of our life more than ordinary landsmen respect theirs. Charley, with unpardonable want of savoir vivre, yelled out:— “’Ave you been to your dentyst? . . . Hurt ye, didn’t it?” He got a box on the ear from one of his best friends. The boy was surprised, and remained plunged in grief for at least three hours. We were sorry for him, but youth requires even more discipline than age. Donkin grinned venomously. From that day he became pitiless; told Jimmy that he was a “black fraud”; hinted to us that we were an imbecile lot, daily taken in by a vulgar nigger. And Jimmy seemed to like the fellow !
Singleton lived untouched by human emotions. Taciturn and unsmiling, he breathed amongst us in that alone resembling the rest of the crowd. We were trying to be decent chaps, and found it jolly difficult; we oscillated between the desire of virtue and the fear of ridicule; we wished to save ourselves from the pam of remorse, but did not want to be made the contemptible dupes of our sentiment. Jimmy’s hateful accomplice seemed to have blown with his impure breath undreamt™ of subtleties into our hearts. We were disturbed