CHAPTER IV
TO THE SURVIVORS, THE SPOILS
The trooper continued its course through the Indian Ocean. Down below
in the floating hospital other death-scenes went on. On deck there was
carelessness of health and youth. Round about, over the sea, was a
very feast of pure sun and air.
In this fine trade-wind weather, the sailors, stretched in the shade
of the sails, were playing with little pet parrots and making them run
races. In this Singapore, which they had just left, the sailors buy
all kinds of tame animals. They had all chosen baby parrots, with
childish looks upon their hooknose faces; they had no tails yet; they
were green, of a wonderful shade. As they went running over the clean
white planks, they looked like fresh young leaves, fallen from
tropical trees.
Sometimes the sailors gathered them all together in one lot, when they
inspected one another funnily; twisting about their throats, to be
seen under all aspects. They comically waddled about like so many lame
people, or suddenly started off in a great hurry for some unknown
destination; and some fell down in their excitement. And there were
monkeys, learning tricks of all kinds, another source of amusement.
Some were most tenderly loved and even kissed extravagantly, as they
nestled against the callous bosoms of their masters, gazing fondly at
them with womanish eyes, half-grotesque and half-touching.
Upon the stroke of three o'clock, the quartermasters brought on deck
two canvas bags, sealed with huge red seals, bearing Sylvestre's name;
for by order of the regulations in regard to the dead, all his clothes
and personal worldly belongings were to be sold by auction. The
sailors gaily grouped themselves around the pile; for, on board a
hospital ship, too many of these sales of effects are seen to excite
any particular emotion. Besides, Sylvestre had been but little known
upon that ship.
His jackets and shirts and blue-striped jerseys were fingered and
turned over and then bought up at different prices, the buyers forcing
the bidding just to amuse themselves.
Then came the turn of the small treasure-box, which was sold for fifty
sous. The letters and military medal had been taken out of it, to be
sent back to the family; but not the book of songs and the work of
Confucious, with the needles, cotton, and buttons, and all the petty
requisites placed there by the forethought of Granny Moan for sewing
and mending.
Then the quartermaster who held up the things to be sold drew out two
small buddhas, taken in some pagoda to give to Gaud, and so funny were
they that they were greeted with a general burst of laughter, when
they appeared as the last lot. But the sailors laughed, not for want
of heart, but only through thoughtlessness.
To conclude, the bags were sold, and the buyer immediately struck out
the name on them to substitute his own.
A careful sweep of the broom was afterward given to clear the
scrupulously clean deck of the dust and odds and ends, while the
sailors returned merrily to play with their parrots and monkeys.
