A
slight haze blurred the
horizon. Outside the harbour the measureless
expanse of
smooth water lay sparkling like a floor of jewels, and as
empty as the sky. The short black tug gave a
pluck to windward, in the usual way, then let go the rope, and hovered for a
moment on the
quarter with her engines stopped; while the
slim, long
hull of the ship moved ahead slowly under lower topsails. The loose upper
canvas blew out in the
breeze with soft round contours, resembling small white clouds snared in the maze of ropes. Then the sheets were hauled home, the yards hoisted, and the ship became a high and
lonely pyramid, gliding, all shining and white,
through the sunlit mist. The tug turned short round and went away towards the land. Twenty-six pairs of eyes watched her low
broad stern crawling
languidly over the
smooth swell between the two paddle-wheels that turned fast, beating the water with
fierce hurry. She resembled an
enormous and
aquatic black beetle, surprised by the light, overwhelmed by the sunshine, trying to
escape with
ineffectual effort into the
distant gloom of the land. She left a lingering
smudge of smoke on the sky, and two vanishing trails of foam on the water. On the place where she had stopped a round black
patch of
soot remained, undulating on the
swell-an unclean mark of the
creature's rest.
The Narcissus left alone, heading south, seemed to stand
resplendent and still upon the
restless sea, under the moving sun. Flakes of foam swept past her sides; the water struck her with flashing blows; the land glided away slowly fading; a few birds screamed on
motionless wings over the swaying mastheads. But soon the land disappeared, the birds went away; and to the west the pointed
sail of an Arab dhow running for Bombay, rose triangular and
upright above the
sharp edge of the
horizon, lingered and vanished like an
illusion. Then the ship's
wake, long and
straight, stretched itself out
through a day of
immense solitude. The
setting sun, burning on the
level of the water, flamed
crimson below the blackness of heavy rain clouds. The sunset
squall, coming up from behind, dissolved itself into the short
deluge of a hissing shower. It left the ship glistening from trucks to water-line, and with darkened sails. She ran easily before a
fair monsoon, with her decks cleared for the night; and, moving along with her, was heard the
sustained and
monotonous swishing of the waves, mingled with the low whispers of men mustered
aft for the
setting of watches; the short plaint of some block
aloft; or, now and then, a loud
sigh of wind.
Mr. Baker, coming out of his cabin, called out the first name
sharply before closing the door behind him. He was going to take charge of the deck. On the homeward trip,
according to an old
custom of the sea, the chief officer takes the first night-watch-from eight
till midnight. So Mr. Baker, after he had heard the last "Yes, sir!" said moodily, "Relieve the wheel and look-out"; and climbed with heavy feet the poop ladder to windward. Soon after Mr. Creighton came down, whistling softly, and went into the cabin. On the doorstep the
steward lounged, in slippers,
meditative, and with his shirt-sleeves rolled up to the armpits.
On the main deck the cook, locking up the
galley doors, had an
altercation with young Charley about a
pair of socks. He could be heard saying impressively, in the darkness amidships: "You don't
deserve a kindness. I've been drying them for you, and now you
complain about the holes-and you
swear, too! Right in front of me! If I hadn't been a Christian-which you ain't, you young ruffian-I would give you a
clout on the head.... Go away!" Men in couples or threes stood
pensive or moved silently along the bulwarks in the waist. The first busy day of a homeward
passage was sinking into the
dull peace of resumed
routine. Aft, on the high poop, Mr. Baker walked shuffling and grunted to himself in the pauses of his thoughts. Forward, the look-out man,
erect between the flukes of the two anchors, hummed an endless tune, keeping his eyes fixed dutifully ahead in a
vacant stare. A
multitude of stars coming out into the clear night peopled the
emptiness of the sky. They glittered, as if alive above the sea; they surrounded the running ship on all sides; more
intense than the eyes of a staring
crowd, and as
inscrutable as the souls of men.
The
passage had begun, and the ship, a
fragment detached from the
earth, went on
lonely and
swift like a small
planet. Round her the abysses of sky and sea met in an
unattainable frontier. A great circular
solitude moved with her, ever changing and ever the same, always
monotonous and always
imposing. Now and then another wandering white speck, burdened with life, appeared far off-disappeared;
intent on its own
destiny. The sun looked upon her all day, and every morning rose with a burning, round
stare of undying
curiosity. She had her own
future; she was alive with the lives of those beings who trod her decks; like that
earth which had given her up to the sea, she had an
intolerable load of regrets and hopes. On her lived
timid truth and
audacious lies; and, like the
earth, she was
unconscious,
fair to see-and condemned by men to an
ignoble fate. The
august loneliness of her path lent
dignity to the
sordid inspiration of her
pilgrimage. She drove foaming to the southward, as if guided by the
courage of a high endeavour. The smiling greatness of the sea dwarfed the
extent of time. The days raced after one another,
brilliant and quick like the flashes of a lighthouse, and the nights,
eventful and short, resembled
fleeting dreams.
The men had shaken into their places, and the half-hourly voice of the bells ruled their life of unceasing care. Night and day the head and shoulders of a seaman could be seen
aft by the wheel, outlined high against sunshine or starlight, very
steady above the
stir of revolving spokes. The faces changed, passing in
rotation. Youthful faces, bearded faces, dark faces: faces
serene, or faces moody, but all
akin with the brotherhood of the sea; all with the same
attentive expression of eyes, carefully watching the
compass or the sails. Captain Allistoun,
serious, and with an old red muffler round his throat, all day long pervaded the poop. At night, many times he rose out of the darkness of the
companion, such as a
phantom above a
grave, and stood
watchful and
mute under the stars, his night-shirt fluttering like a flag-then, without a
sound, sank down again. He was born on the shores of the Pentland Firth. In his youth he attained the
rank of harpooner in Peterhead whalers. When he
spoke of that time his
restless grey eyes became still and cold, like the
loom of ice. Afterwards he went into the East Indian
trade for the sake of change. He had commanded the Narcissus since she was built. He loved his ship, and drove her unmercifully; for his secret
ambition was to make her
accomplish some day a brilliantly quick
passage which would be mentioned in
nautical papers. He pronounced his owner's name with a
sardonic smile,
spoke but
seldom to his officers, and reproved errors in a
gentle voice, with words that cut to the quick. His hair was
iron-grey, his face hard and of the colour of pump-leather. He shaved every morning of his life-at six-but once (being caught in a
fierce hurricane eighty miles southwest of Mauritius) he had missed three
consecutive days. He feared
naught but an unforgiving God, and wished to end his days in a little house, with a
plot of ground attached-far in the country-out of
sight of the sea.
He, the
ruler of that
minute world,
seldom descended from the Olympian heights of his poop. Below him-at his feet, so to speak-common mortals led their busy and
insignificant lives. Along the main deck, Mr. Baker grunted in a manner
bloodthirsty and
innocuous; and kept all our noses to the grindstone, being-as he once remarked-paid for doing that very thing. The men working about the deck were
healthy and contented-as most seamen are, when once well out to sea. The true peace of God begins at any spot a thousand miles from the nearest land; and when He sends there the messengers of His
might it is not in terrible
wrath against crime,
presumption, and
folly, but paternally, to
chasten simple hearts-ignorant hearts that know nothing of life, and beat undisturbed by
envy or
greed.
In the evening the cleared decks had a reposeful
aspect, resembling the
autumn of the
earth. The sun was sinking to rest, wrapped in a
mantle of warm clouds. Forward, on the end of the
spare spars, the
boatswain and the
carpenter sat together with crossed arms; two men friendly,
powerful, and deep-chested. Beside them the short, dumpy sailmaker-who had been in the Navy-related, between the whiffs of his pipe,
impossible stories about Admirals. Couples tramped backwards and forwards, keeping step and
balance without
effort, in a
confined space. Pigs grunted in the big pigstye. Belfast, leaning thoughtfully on his elbow, above the bars, communed with them
through the
silence of his
meditation. Fellows with shirts open wide on sunburnt breasts sat upon the mooring bits, and all up the steps of the forecastle ladders. By the foremast a few discussed in a circle the characteristics of a gentleman. One said:-"It's money as does it." Another maintained:-"No, it's the way they speak." Lame Knowles stumped up with an unwashed face (he had the
distinction of being the dirty man of the forecastle), and showing a few yellow fangs in a
shrewd smile, explained craftily that he "had seen some of their pants." The backsides of them-he had observed-were thinner than paper from
constant sitting down in offices, yet otherwise they looked first-rate and would last for years. It was all
appearance. "It was," he said, "bloomin' easy to be a gentleman when you had a clean
job for life." They disputed endlessly,
obstinate and childish; they
repeated in shouts and with inflamed faces their
amazing arguments; while the soft
breeze, eddying down the
enormous cavity of the foresail, distended above their bare heads, stirred the tumbled hair with a touch passing and light like an
indulgent caress.
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 reward; Donkin,
solitary and
brooding over his wrongs 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
suddenly, 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 leaning back, comfortably propped, and with
superior smiles. Belfast left off scratching the ear of his favourite pig, and, open mouthed, tried with
eager eyes to have his say. He lifted his arms, grimacing and baffled. 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, delivered with an air of
supernatural cunning, a
ripple of laughter ran along, rose like a
wave,
burst with a startling
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 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 backslider; 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
determination. 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
suspended 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
affected 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 departing 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 settled 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 company. Not a word was spoken. Many turned their backs, trying to look unconcerned; others, with averted heads, sent half-reluctant glances out of the corners 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 knowing 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
intolerable. 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 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
companion; he paraded it
unceasingly before us with an
affectionate persistence that made its
presence indubitable, 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 managed, 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 he
committed in
disturbing Jimmy's
interminable last moments. At night, instead of the cheerful yell, "One bell! Turn out! 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 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 within that fo'c'sle as though it had been a church. We ate our meals in
silence and
dread, for Jimmy was
capricious 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 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 overwhelmed 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 would 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 was
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
conceal 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, 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
plaintively:-"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
comical 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
motionless 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 shipshape over a sick man. There! Leave it alone! I can die anyhow!" Belfast turned away limply with a
gesture of discouragement. In the
silence of the forecastle, full of
interested men, Donkin pronounced distinctly:-"Well, I'm blowed!" and sniggered. Wait looked at him. He looked at him in a quite friendly manner. Nobody 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 impudently cringing to us and
systematically insolent to the officers. He anticipated the best results, for himself, 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 insulting 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:-"Ah! 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 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 pain 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 and
cowardly. That we knew. Singleton seemed to know nothing,
understand nothing. We had
thought him
till then as
wise as he looked, but now we dared, at times,
suspect him of being stupid-from old age. One day, however, at dinner, as we sat on our boxes round a tin dish that stood on the deck within the circle of our feet, Jimmy expressed his
general disgust with men and things in words that were
particularly disgusting. Singleton lifted his head. We became
mute. The old man, addressing Jimmy, asked:-"Are you dying?" Thus interrogated, James Wait appeared horribly startled and
confused. We all were startled. Mouths remained open; hearts thumped, eyes blinked; a dropped tin fork rattled in the dish; a man rose as if to go out, and stood still. In less than a
minute Jimmy pulled himself together:-"Why? Can't you see I am?" he answered shakily. Singleton lifted a piece of soaked biscuit ("his teeth"-he declared-"had no
edge on them now") to his lips.-"Well, get on with your dying," he said with
venerable mildness; "don't
raise a blamed
fuss with us over that
job. We can't help you." Jimmy fell back in his bunk, and for a long time lay very still wiping the
perspiration off his chin. The dinner-tins were put away quickly. On deck we discussed the
incident in whispers. Some showed a chuckling
exultation. Many looked
grave. Wamibo, after long periods of staring dreaminess, attempted
abortive smiles; and one of the young Scandinavians, much
tormented by
doubt, ventured in the second dog-watch to
approach Singleton (the old man did not
encourage us much to speak to him) and ask sheepishly:-"You think he will die?" Singleton looked up.-"Why, of course he will die," he said
deliberately. This seemed
decisive. It was
promptly imparted to every one by him who had consulted the
oracle. Shy and
eager, he would step up and with averted
gaze recite his
formula:-"Old Singleton says he will die." It was a
relief! At last we knew that our
compassion would not be misplaced, and we could again smile without misgivings-but we reckoned without Donkin. Donkin "didn't want to 'ave no truck with 'em dirty furriners." When Nilsen came to him with the news: "Singleton says he will die," he answered him by a
spiteful "And so will you-you fat-headed Dutchman. Wish you Dutchmen were all dead-'
stead comin' takin' our money
inter your starvin' country." We were
appalled. We perceived that after all Singleton's answer meant nothing. We began to hate him for making fun of us. All our certitudes were going; we were on
doubtful terms with our officers; the cook had given us up for
lost; we had overheard the
boatswain's
opinion that "we were a
crowd of softies." We suspected Jimmy, one another, and even our very selves. We did not know what to do. At every
insignificant turn of our
humble life we met Jimmy
overbearing and blocking the way, arm-in-arm with his awful and veiled
familiar. It was a
weird servitude.
It began a week after leaving Bombay and came on us
stealthily like any other great
misfortune. Every one had remarked that Jimmy from the first was very
slack at his work; but we
thought it simply the
outcome of his
philosophy of life. Donkin said:-"You put no more
weight on a rope than a bloody sparrer." He disdained him. Belfast, ready for a fight, exclaimed provokingly:-"You don't kill yourself, old man!"-"Would you?" he retorted with
extreme,
scorn-and Belfast retired. One morning, as we were washing decks, Mr. Baker called to him:-"Bring your broom over here, Wait." He strolled
languidly.
"Move yourself! Ough!" grunted Mr. Baker; "what's the
matter with your hind legs?" He stopped dead short. He gazed slowly with eyes that bulged out with an
expression audacious and sad.-"It isn't my legs," he said, "it's my lungs." Everybody listened.-"What's... Ough!... What's wrong with them?" inquired Mr. Baker. All the watch stood around on the wet deck, grinning, and with brooms or buckets in their hands. He said mournfully:-"Going-or gone. Can't you see I'm a dying man? I know it!" Mr. Baker was disgusted.-"Then why the devil did you ship
aboard here?"-"I must live
till I die-mustn't I?" he replied. The grins became
audible.-"Go off my deck-get out of my
sight," said Mr. Baker. He was
nonplussed. It was a
unique experience. James Wait,
obedient, dropped his broom, and walked slowly
forward. A
burst of laughter followed him. It was too funny. All hands laughed.... They laughed!... Alas!
He became the tormentor of all our moments; he was worse than a nightmare. You couldn't see that there was anything wrong with him: a nigger does not show. He was not very fat-certainly-but then he was no leaner than other niggers we had known. He coughed often, but the most
prejudiced person could
perceive that, mostly, he coughed when it suited his
purpose. He wouldn't, or couldn't, do his work-and he wouldn't lie-up. One day he would skip
aloft with the best of them, and next time we would be obliged to
risk our lives to get his
limp body down. He was reported, he was examined; he was remonstrated with, threatened, cajoled, lectured. He was called into the cabin to
interview the captain. There were wild rumours. It was said he had cheeked the old man; it was said he had
frightened him. Charley maintained that the "skipper, weepin,' 'as giv' 'im 'is blessin' an' a pot of jam." Knowles had it from the
steward that the unspeakable Jimmy had been reeling against the cabin furniture; that he had groaned; that he had complained of
general brutality and
disbelief; and had ended by coughing all over the old man's meteorological journals which were then
spread on the
table. At any rate, Wait returned
forward supported by the
steward, who, in a pained and shocked voice, entreated us:-"Here! Catch hold of him, one of you. He is to lie-up." Jimmy drank a tin mugful of coffee, and, after bullying first one and then another, went to bed. He remained there most of the time, but when it suited him would come on deck and appear amongst us. He was
scornful and
brooding; he looked ahead upon the sea, and no one could tell what was the
meaning of that black man sitting apart in a
meditative attitude and as
motionless as a carving.
He refused
steadily all
medicine; he threw sago and cornflour
overboard till the
steward got
tired of bringing it to him. He asked for paregoric. They sent him a big bottle; enough to
poison a
wilderness of babies. He kept it between his mattress and the deal lining of the ship's side; and nobody ever saw him take a dose. Donkin abused him to his face, jeered at him while he gasped; and the same day Wait would
lend him a warm
jersey. Once Donkin reviled him for half an hour; reproached him with the extra work his malingering gave to the watch; and ended by calling him "a black-faced
swine." Under the spell of our accursed
perversity we were horror-struck. But Jimmy
positively seemed to
revel in that
abuse. It made him look cheerful-and Donkin had a
pair of old sea boots thrown at him. "Here, you East-end trash," boomed Wait, "you may have that."
At last Mr. Baker had to tell the captain that James Wait was
disturbing the peace of the ship. "Knock
discipline on the head-he will, Ough," grunted Mr. Baker. As a
matter of
fact, the
starboard watch came as near as
possible to refusing
duty, when ordered one morning by the
boatswain to wash out their forecastle. It appears Jimmy objected to a wet floor-and that morning we were in a
compassionate mood. We
thought the
boatswain a
brute, and,
practically, told him so. Only Mr. Baker's
delicate tact prevented an all-fired row: he refused to take us seriously. He came bustling
forward, and called us many unpolite names but in such a
hearty and seamanlike manner that we began to feel
ashamed of ourselves. In truth, we
thought him much too good a sailor to
annoy him willingly: and after all Jimmy
might have been a
fraud-probably was! The forecastle got a clean up that morning; but in the afternoon a sick-bay was fitted up in the deck-house. It was a nice little cabin opening on deck, and with two berths. Jimmy's belongings were transported there, and then-notwithstanding his protests-Jimmy himself. He said he couldn't walk. Four men carried him on a blanket. He complained that he would have to die there alone, like a dog. We grieved for him, and were
delighted to have him removed from the forecastle. We attended him as before. The
galley was next door, and the cook looked in many times a day. Wait became a little more cheerful. Knowles affirmed having heard him laugh to himself in peals one day. Others had seen him walking about on deck at night. His little place, with the door
ajar on a long hook, was always full of
tobacco smoke. We
spoke through the crack cheerfully, sometimes abusively, as we passed by,
intent on our work. He
fascinated us. He would never let
doubt die. He overshadowed the ship. Invulnerable in his
promise of speedy
corruption he trampled on our self-
respect, he demonstrated to us daily our want of
moral courage; he tainted our lives. Had we been a
miserable gang of
wretched immortals, unhallowed alike by hope and fear, he could not have lorded it over us with a more
pitiless assertion of his
sublime privilege.