Section 9

gave way. Belfast plunged in head and shoulders
and groped viciously. “I’ve got ’im! Got ’im,” he shouted. “Oh! There! . . . He’s gone; I’ve
got ’im! . . . Pull at my legs! . . .
Pull!” Wamibo hooted unceasingly. The boatswain shouted directions: — “Catch hold of his hair, Belfast; pull straight up, you two! . . . Pull fair!”
We pulled fair. We pulled Belfast out with a jerk, and dropped him with disgust. In a sitting posture, purple-faced, he sobbed despairingly: — “How can I hold on to ’is blooming short wool?” Suddenly Jimmy’s head and shoulders appeared. He stuck half¬ way, and wTith rolling eyes foamed at our feet. We flew at him with brutal impatience, wre tore the shirt off his back, we tugged at his ears, we panted over him; and all at once he came away in our hands as though somebody had let go his legs. With the same movement, without a pause, we swung him up. His breath whistled, he kicked our upturned faces, he grasped two pairs of arms above his head, and he squirmed up with such precipitation that he seemed positively to escape from our hands like a bladder full of gas. Streaming wdtli perspiration, we swarmed up the rope, and, coming into the blast of cold wind, gasped like men plunged into icy water. With burning faces we shivered to the very marrow of our bones. Never before had the gale seemed to us more furious, the sea more mad, the sunshine more merciless and
THE NIGGER OF THE “NARCISSUS” 71
mocking, and the position of the ship more hopeless and appalling. Every movement of her was ominous of the end of her agony and of the beginning of ours. We staggered away from the door, and, alarmed by a sudden roll, fell down in a bunch. It appeared to us that the side of the house was more smooth than glass and more slippery than ice. There was nothing to hang on to but a long brass hook used sometimes to keep back an open door. Wamibo held on to it and we held on to Wamibo, clutching our Jimmy. He had completely collapsed now. He did not seem to have the strength to close his hand. We stuck to him blindly in our fear. We were not afraid of Wamibo letting go (we remembered that the brute was stronger than any three men in the ship), but we were afraid of the hook giving way, and we also believed that the ship had made up her mind to turn over at last. But she didn’t. A sea swept over us. The boatswain splut¬ tered: — “Up and away. There’s a lull. Away aft with you, or we will all go to the devil here.’ We stood up surrounding Jimmy. We begged him to hold up, to hold on, at least. He glared with his bulging eyes, mute as a fish, and with all the stiffening knocked out of him. He wouldn’t stand; he wouldn’t even as much as clutch at our necks; he was only a cold black skin loosely stuffed with soft cotton wool; his arms and legs swung jointless and pliable; his head rolled about; the lower lip hung down, enormous and heavy. We pressed round him, bothered and dismayed; sheltering him we swung here and there in a body; and on the very brink of eternity we tottered all to- gether with concealing and absurd gestures, like a lot of drunken men embarrassed with a stolen corpse.
Something had to be done. We had to get him aft. A rope was tied slack under his armpits, and, leaching
72 THE NIGGER OF THE “NARCISSUS”
up at the risk of our lives, we hung him on the fore¬ sheet cleet. He emitted no sound; he looked as ridiculously lamentable as a doll that had lost half its sawdust, and we started on our perilous journey over the main deck, dragging along with care that pitiful, that limp, that hateful burden. He was not very heavy, but had he weighed a ton he could not have been more awkward to handle. We literally passed him from hand to hand. Now and then we had to hang him up on a handy belaying-pin, to draw a breath and reform the line. Had the pin broken he would have irretrievably gone into the Southern Ocean, but he had to take his chance of that; and after a little while, becoming apparently aware of it, he groaned slightly, and with a great effort whispered a few words. We listened eagerly. He was reproaching us with our carelessness in letting him run such risks: “Now, after I got myself out from there,” he breathed out weakly. “There” was his cabin. And he got himself out. We had nothing to do with it apparently! . . . No matter. . . . We went on and let
him take his chances, simply because we could not help it; for though at that time we hated him more than ever — more than anything under heaven — we did not want to lose him. We had so far saved him; and it had become a personal matter between us and the sea. We meant to stick to him. Had we (by an incredible hypothesis) undergone similar toil and trouble for an empty cask, that cask would have become as precious to us as Jimmy was. More pre¬ cious, in fact, because we would have had no reason to hate the cask. And we hated Janies Wait. We could not get rid of the monstrous suspicion that this astound¬ ing black-man was shamming sick, had been malinger¬ ing heartlessly in the face of our toil, of our scorn, of
THE NIGGER OF THE “NARCISSUS” 73
our patience — and now was malingering in the face of our devotion — in the face of death. Our vague and imperfect morality rose with disgust at his unmanly lie. But he stuck to it manfully — amazingly. No! It couldn’t be. He was at all extremity. His cantankerous temper was only the result of the provoking invincible¬ ness of that death he felt by his side. Any man may be angry with such a masterful chum. But, then, what kind of men were we — -with our thoughts! In¬ dignation and doubt grappled within us in a scuffle that trampled upon the finest of our feelings. And we hated him because of the suspicion; we detested him because of the doubt. We could not scorn him safely neither could we pity him without risk to our dignity. So we hated him, and passed him carefully from hand to hand. We cried, “Got him?”— “Yes. All right. Let go.” And he swung from one enemy to another, showing about as much life as an old bolster would do. His eyes made two narrow white slits in the black face. The air escaped through his lips with a noise like the sound of bellows. We reached the poop ladder at last, and it being a comparatively safe place, we lay for a moment in an exhausted heap to rest a little. He began to mutter. We were always incurably anx¬ ious to hear what he had to say. This time he mumbled peevishly, “It took you some time to come. I began to think the whole smart lot of you had been washed overboard. What kept you back? Hey? Funk? We said nothing. With sighs we started again to drag him up. The secret and ardent desire of our hearts was the desire to beat him viciously with our fists about the head; and we handled him as tenderly as though he had been made of glass. . . .
The return on the poop was like the return of wan¬ derers after many years amongst people marked by
74 THE NIGGER OF THE “NARCISSUS’*
the desolation of time. Eyes were turned slowly in their sockets, glancing at us. Faint murmurs were heard, “Have you got ’im after all?” The well- known faces looked strange and familiar; they seemed faded and grimy; they had a mingled expression of fatigue and eagerness. They seemed to have become much thinner during our absence, as if all these men had been starving for a long time in their abandoned attitudes. The captain, with a round turn of a rope on his wrist, and kneeling on one knee, swung with a face cold and stiff; but with living eyes he was still holding the ship up, heeding no one, as if lost in the unearthly effort of that endeavour. We fastened up James Wait in a safe place. Mr. Baker scrambled along to lend a hand. Mr. Creighton, on his back, and very pale, muttered, “Well done,” and gave us, Jimmy and the sky, a scornful glance, then closed his eyes slowly. Here and there a man stirred a little, but most of them remained apathetic, in cramped positions, muttering between shivers. The sun was setting. A sun enormous, unclouded and red, declining low as if bending down to look into their faces. The wind whistled across long sunbeams that, resplendent and cold, struck full on the dilated pupils of staring eyes without making them wink. The wisps of hair and the tangled beards were grey with the salt of the sea. The faces were earthy, and the dark patches under the eyes extended to the ears, smudged into the hollows of sunken cheeks. The lips were livid and thin, and when they moved it was with difficulty, as though they had been glued to the teeth. Some grinned sadly in the sunlight, shaking with cold. Others were sad and still. Charley, subdued by the sudden disclosure of the insignificance of his youth, darted fearful glances. The two smooth-faced Norwegians resembled decrepit
THE NIGGER OF THE “NARCISSUS” 75
children, staring stupidly. To leeward, on the edge of the horizon, black seas leaped up towards the glow-' ing sun. It sank slowly, round and blazing, and the crests of waves splashed on the edge of the luminous circle. One of the Norwegians appeared to catch sight of it, and, after giving a violent start, began to speak* His voice, startling the others, made them stir. They moved their heads stiffly, or turning with difficulty, looked at him with surprise, with fear, or in grave silence. He chattered at the setting sun, nodding his head, while the big seas began to roll across the crim¬ son disc; and over miles of turbulent waters the shad¬ ows of high waves swept with a running darkness the faces of men. A crested roller broke with a loud hissing roar, and the sun, as if put out, disappeared. The chattering voice faltered, went out together with the light. There were sighs. In the sudden lull that follows the crash of a broken sea a man said wearily, “Here’s that blooming Dutchman gone off his chump.” A seaman, lashed by the middle, tapped the deck with his open hand with unceasing quick flaps. In the gathering greyness of twilight a bulky form was seen rising aft, and began marching on all fours with the movements of some big cautious beast. It was Mr. Baker passing along the line of men. He grunted encouragingly over every one, felt their fastenings. Some, with half-open eyes, puffed like men oppressed by heat; others mechanically and in dreamy voices answered him, “Aye! aye! sir!” He went from one to another grunting, “Ough! . . . See her through
it yet;” and unexpectedly, with loud angry outbursts, blew up Knowles for cutting off a long piece from
the fall of the relieving tackle. “Ough! - Ashamed
of yourself - Relieving tackle - Don’t you know
better! - Ough! - Able seaman! Ough!” The
76 THE NIGGER OF THE “NARCISSUS”
lame man was crushed. He muttered, “Get som’think
for a lashing for myself, sir.” — “Ough! Lashing - ~
yourself. Are you a tinker or a sailor - What?
Ough! - May want that tackle directly - Ough!
- More use to the ship than your lame carcass.
Ough! - Keep it! - Keep it, now you’ve done it.”
He crawled away slowly, muttering to himself about some men being “worse than children.” It had been a comforting row. Low exclamations were heard: “Hallo . . . Hallo.” . . . Those wrho had
been painfully dozing asked with convulsive starts, “What’s up? . . . What is it?” The answrers
came with unexpected cheerfulness: “The mate is going bald-headed for lame Jack about something or other.” “No!” .... “What ’as he done?”
Some one even chuckled. It was like a whiff of hope, like a reminder of safe days. Donkin, who had been stupefied with fear, revived suddenly and began to shout: — “’Ear ’im; that’s the way they tawlk to us. Vy donch ’ee ’it ’im — one ov yer? ’It ’im. ’It ’im! Cornin’ the mate over us. We are as good men as ’ee! We’re all goin’ to ’ell now. We ’ave been starved in this rotten ship, an’ now we’re goin’ to be drowned for them black ’earted bullies! ’It ’im!” He shrieked in the deepening gloom, he blubbered and sobbed, screaming:— “ ’It ’im ! ’It ’im!” The rage and fear of his disregarded right to live tried the steadfastness of hearts more than the menacing shadows of the night that advanced through the unceasing clamour of the gale. From aft Mr. Baker was heard:— “Is one of you men going to stop him— must I come along?”
Shut up! . . . “Keep quiet!” cried various
voices, exasperated, trembling with cold. — “You’ll get one across the mug from me directly,” said an invisible seaman, in a weary tone, “I won’t let the mate
THE NIGGER OF THE “NARCISSUS” 77
have the trouble.” He ceased and lay still with the silence of despair. On the black sky the stars, coming out, gleamed over an inky sea that, speckled with foam, flashed back at them the evanescent and pale light of a dazzling whiteness born from the black tur¬ moil of the wraves. Remote in the eternal calm they glittered hard and cold above the uproar of the earth; they surrounded the vanquished and tormented ship on all sides : more pitiless than the eyes of a triumphant mob, and as unapproachable as the hearts of men.
The icy south wind howled exultingly under the sombre splendour of the sky. The cold shook the men wflth a resistless violence as though it had tried to shake them to pieces. Short moans were swept unheard off the stiff lips. Some complained in mutters of “not feeling themselves below the waist;” while those who had closed their eyes, imagined they had a block of ice on their chests. Others, alarmed at not feeling any pain in their fingers, beat the deck feebly with their hands — obstinate and exhausted. Wamibo stared vacant and dreamy. The Scandinavians kept on a meaningless mutter through chattering teeth. The spare Scotchmen, with determined efforts, kept their low^er jaws still. The West-country men lay big and stolid in an invulnerable surliness. A man yawned and swore in turns. Another breathed with a rattle in his throat. Two elderly hard-weather shellbacks, fast side by side, whispered dismally to one another about the landlady of a boarding-house in Sunderland, whom they both knew. They extolled her motherli¬ ness and her liberality; they tried to talk about the joint of beef and the big fire in the downstairs kitchen. The words dying faintly on their lips, ended in light sighs. A sudden voice cried into the cold night, “O Lord ! ” No one changed his position or took airc notice
78 THE NIGGER OF THE “ NARCISSUS”
of the cry. One or two passed, with a repeated and vague gesture, their hand over their faces, but most of them kept very still. In the benumbed immobility of their bodies they were excessively wearied by their thoughts, which rushed with the rapidity and vividness of dreams. Now and then, by an abrupt and startling exclamation, they answered the weird hail of some il¬ lusion; then, again, in silence contemplated the vision of known faces and familiar things. They recalled the aspect of forgotten shipmates and heard the voice of dead and gone skippers. They remembered the noise of gaslit streets, the steamy heat of tap-rooms or the scorching sunshine of calm days at sea.
Mr. Baker left his insecure place, and crawled, with stoppages, along the poop. In the dark and on all fours he resembled some carnivorous animal prowding amongst corpses. At the break, propped to windward of a stanchion, he looked down on the main deck. It seemed to him that the ship had a tendency to stand up a little more. The wind had eased a little, he thought, but the sea ran as high as ever. The waves foamed viciously, and the lee side of the deck disap¬ peared under a hissing whiteness as of boiling milk, while the rigging sang steadily with a deep vibrating note, and, at every upward swing of the ship, the wind rushed with a long-drawn clamour amongst the spars. Mr. Baker watched very still. A man near him began to make a blabbing noise with his lips, all at once and very loud, as though the cold had broken brutally through him. He went on: — “Ba — ba — ba — brrr— brr — ba — ba.” — “Stop that!” cried Mr. Baker, grop¬ ing in the dark. “Stop it!” He went on shaking the leg he found under his hand. — “What is it, sir?” called out Belfast, in the tone of a man awakened sud¬ denly; “we are looking after that ’ere Jimmy.” — “Are
THE NIGGER OF THE “NARCISSUS” 79