CHAPTER II
The skipper of the Sephora had a thin red whisker all round his
face, and the sort of complexion that goes with hair of that
colour; also the particular, rather smeary shade of blue in the
eyes. He was not exactly a showy figure; his shoulders were high,
his stature but middling--one leg slightly more bandy than the
other. He shook hands, looking vaguely around. A spiritless
tenacity was his main characteristic, I judged. I behaved with a
politeness which seemed to disconcert him. Perhaps he was shy. He
mumbled to me as if he were ashamed of what he was saying; gave his
name (it was something like Archbold--but at this distance of years
I hardly am sure), his ship's name, and a few other particulars of
that sort, in the manner of a criminal making a reluctant and
doleful confession. He had had terrible weather on the passage
out--terrible--terrible--wife aboard, too.
By this time we were seated in the cabin and the steward brought in
a tray with a bottle and glasses. "Thanks! No." Never took
liquor. Would have some water, though. He drank two tumblerfuls.
Terrible thirsty work. Ever since daylight had been exploring the
islands round his ship.
"What was that for--fun?" I asked, with an appearance of polite
interest.
"No!" He sighed. "Painful duty."
As he persisted in his mumbling and I wanted my double to hear
every word, I hit upon the notion of informing him that I regretted
to say I was hard of hearing.
"Such a young man, too!" he nodded, keeping his smeary blue,
unintelligent eyes fastened upon me. What was the cause of it--
some disease? he inquired, without the least sympathy and as if he
thought that, if so, I'd got no more than I deserved.
"Yes; disease," I admitted in a cheerful tone which seemed to shock
him. But my point was gained, because he had to raise his voice to
give me his tale. It is not worth while to record that version.
It was just over two months since all this had happened, and he had
thought so much about it that he seemed completely muddled as to
its bearings, but still immensely impressed.
"What would you think of such a thing happening on board your own
ship? I've had the Sephora for these fifteen years. I am a well-
known shipmaster."
He was densely distressed--and perhaps I should have sympathised
with him if I had been able to detach my mental vision from the
unsuspected sharer of my cabin as though he were my second self.
There he was on the other side of the bulkhead, four or five feet
from us, no more, as we sat in the saloon. I looked politely at
Captain Archbold (if that was his name), but it was the other I
saw, in a grey sleeping-suit, seated on a low stool, his bare feet
close together, his arms folded, and every word said between us
falling into the ears of his dark head bowed on his chest.
"I have been at sea now, man and boy, for seven-and-thirty years,
and I've never heard of such a thing happening in an English ship.
And that it should be my ship. Wife on board, too."
I was hardly listening to him.
"Don't you think," I said, "that the heavy sea which, you told me,
came aboard just then might have killed the man? I have seen the
sheer weight of a sea kill a man very neatly, by simply breaking
his neck."
"Good God!" he uttered, impressively, fixing his smeary blue eyes
on me. "The sea! No man killed by the sea ever looked like that."
He seemed positively scandalised at my suggestion. And as I gazed
at him, certainly not prepared for anything original on his part,
he advanced his head close to mine and thrust his tongue out at me
so suddenly that I couldn't help starting back.
After scoring over my calmness in this graphic way he nodded
wisely. If I had seen the sight, he assured me, I would never
forget it as long as I lived. The weather was too bad to give the
corpse a proper sea burial. So next day at dawn they took it up on
the poop, covering its face with a bit of bunting; he read a short
prayer, and then, just as it was, in its oilskins and long boots,
they launched it amongst those mountainous seas that seemed ready
every moment to swallow up the ship herself and the terrified lives
on board of her.
"That reefed foresail saved you," I threw in.
"Under God--it did," he exclaimed fervently. "It was by a special
mercy, I firmly believe, that it stood some of those hurricane
squalls."
"It was the setting of that sail which--" I began.
"God's own hand in it," he interrupted me. "Nothing less could
have done it. I don't mind telling you that I hardly dared give
the order. It seemed impossible that we could touch anything
without losing it, and then our last hope would have been gone."
The terror of that gale was on him yet. I let him go on for a bit,
then said, casually--as if returning to a minor subject:
"You were very anxious to give up your mate to the shore people, I
believe?"
He was. To the law. His obscure tenacity on that point had in it
something incomprehensible and a little awful; something, as it
were, mystical, quite apart from his anxiety that he should not be
suspected of "countenancing any doings of that sort." Seven-and-
thirty virtuous years at sea, of which over twenty of immaculate
command, and the last fifteen in the Sephora, seemed to have laid
him under some pitiless obligation.
"And you know," he went on, groping shamefacedly amongst his
feelings, "I did not engage that young fellow. His people had some
interest with my owners. I was in a way forced to take him on. He
looked very smart, very gentlemanly, and all that. But do you
know--I never liked him, somehow. I am a plain man. You see, he
wasn't exactly the sort for the chief mate of a ship like the
Sephora."
I had become so connected in thoughts and impressions with the
secret sharer of my cabin that I felt as if I, personally, were
being given to understand that I, too, was not the sort that would
have done for the chief mate of a ship like the Sephora. I had no
doubt of it in my mind.
"Not at all the style of man. You understand," he insisted,
superfluously, looking hard at me.
I smiled urbanely. He seemed at a loss for a while.
"I suppose I must report a suicide."
"Beg pardon?"
"Suicide! That's what I'll have to write to my owners directly I
get in."
"Unless you manage to recover him before to-morrow," I assented,
dispassionately. . . "I mean, alive."
He mumbled something which I really did not catch, and I turned my
ear to him in a puzzled manner. He fairly bawled:
"The land--I say, the mainland is at least seven miles off my
anchorage."
"About that."
My lack of excitement, of curiosity, of surprise, of any sort of
pronounced interest, began to arouse his distrust. But except for
the felicitous pretence of deafness I had not tried to pretend
anything. I had felt utterly incapable of playing the part of
ignorance properly, and therefore was afraid to try. It is also
certain that he had brought some ready-made suspicions with him,
and that he viewed my politeness as a strange and unnatural
phenomenon. And yet how else could I have received him? Not
heartily! That was impossible for psychological reasons, which I
need not state here. My only object was to keep off his inquiries.
Surlily? Yes, but surliness might have provoked a point-blank
question. From its novelty to him and from its nature, punctilious
courtesy was the manner best calculated to restrain the man. But
there was the danger of his breaking through my defence bluntly. I
could not, I think, have met him by a direct lie, also for
psychological (not moral) reasons. If he had only known how afraid
I was of his putting my feeling of identity with the other to the
test! But, strangely enough--(I thought of it only afterward)--I
believe that he was not a little disconcerted by the reverse side
of that weird situation, by something in me that reminded him of
the man he was seeking--suggested a mysterious similitude to the
young fellow he had distrusted and disliked from the first.
However that might have been, the silence was not very prolonged.
He took another oblique step.
"I reckon I had no more than a two-mile pull to your ship. Not a
bit more."
"And quite enough, too, in this awful heat," I said.
Another pause full of mistrust followed. Necessity, they say, is
mother of invention, but fear, too, is not barren of ingenious
suggestions. And I was afraid he would ask me point-blank for news
of my other self.
"Nice little saloon, isn't it?" I remarked, as if noticing for the
first time the way his eyes roamed from one closed door to the
other. "And very well fitted out too. Here, for instance," I
continued, reaching over the back of my seat negligently and
flinging the door open, "is my bath-room."
He made an eager movement, but hardly gave it a glance. I got up,
shut the door of the bath-room, and invited him to have a look
round, as if I were very proud of my accommodation. He had to rise
and be shown round, but he went through the business without any
raptures whatever.
"And now we'll have a look at my stateroom," I declared, in a voice
as loud as I dared to make it, crossing the cabin to the starboard
side with purposely heavy steps.
He followed me in and gazed around. My intelligent double had
vanished. I played my part.
"Very convenient--isn't it?"
"Very nice. Very comf. . . " He didn't finish, and went out
brusquely as if to escape from some unrighteous wiles of mine. But
it was not to be. I had been too frightened not to feel vengeful;
I felt I had him on the run, and I meant to keep him on the run.
My polite insistence must have had something menacing in it,
because he gave in suddenly. And I did not let him off a single
item; mate's room, pantry, storerooms, the very sail-locker which
was also under the poop--he had to look into them all. When at
last I showed him out on the quarter-deck he drew a long,
spiritless sigh, and mumbled dismally that he must really be going
back to his ship now. I desired my mate, who had joined us, to see
to the captain's boat.
The man of whiskers gave a blast on the whistle which he used to
wear hanging round his neck, and yelled, "Sephoras away!" My
double down there in my cabin must have heard, and certainly could
not feel more relieved than I. Four fellows came running out from
somewhere forward and went over the side, while my own men,
appearing on deck too, lined the rail. I escorted my visitor to
the gangway ceremoniously, and nearly overdid it. He was a
tenacious beast. On the very ladder he lingered, and in that
unique, guiltily conscientious manner of sticking to the point:
"I say . . . you . . . you don't think that--"
I covered his voice loudly:
"Certainly not. . . . I am delighted. Good-bye."
I had an idea of what he meant to say, and just saved myself by the
privilege of defective hearing. He was too shaken generally to
insist, but my mate, close witness of that parting, looked
mystified and his face took on a thoughtful cast. As I did not
want to appear as if I wished to avoid all communication with my
officers, he had the opportunity to address me.
"Seems a very nice man. His boat's crew told our chaps a very
extraordinary story, if what I am told by the steward is true. I
suppose you had it from the captain, sir?"
"Yes. I had a story from the captain."
"A very horrible affair--isn't it, sir?"
"It is."
"Beats all these tales we hear about murders in Yankee ships."
"I don't think it beats them. I don't think it resembles them in
the least."
"Bless my soul--you don't say so! But of course I've no
acquaintance whatever with American ships, not I, so I couldn't go
against your knowledge. It's horrible enough for me. . . . But the
queerest part is that those fellows seemed to have some idea the
man was hidden aboard here. They had really. Did you ever hear of
such a thing?"
"Preposterous--isn't it?"
We were walking to and fro athwart the quarterdeck. No one of the
crew forward could be seen (the day was Sunday), and the mate
pursued:
"There was some little dispute about it. Our chaps took offence.
'As if we would harbour a thing like that,' they said. 'Wouldn't
you like to look for him in our coal-hole?' Quite a tiff. But
they made it up in the end. I suppose he did drown himself. Don't
you, sir?"
"I don't suppose anything."
"You have no doubt in the matter, sir?"
"None whatever."
I left him suddenly. I felt I was producing a bad impression, but
with my double down there it was most trying to be on deck. And it
was almost as trying to be below. Altogether a nerve-trying
situation. But on the whole I felt less torn in two when I was
with him. There was no one in the whole ship whom I dared take
into my confidence. Since the hands had got to know his story, it
would have been impossible to pass him off for any one else, and an
accidental discovery was to be dreaded now more than ever. . . .
The steward being engaged in laying the table for dinner, we could
talk only with our eyes when I first went down. Later in the
afternoon we had a cautious try at whispering. The Sunday
quietness of the ship was against us; the stillness of air and
water around her was against us; the elements, the men were against
us--everything was against us in our secret partnership; time
itself--for this could not go on forever. The very trust in
Providence was, I suppose, denied to his guilt. Shall I confess
that this thought cast me down very much? And as to the chapter of
accidents which counts for so much in the book of success, I could
only hope that it was closed. For what favourable accident could
be expected?
"Did you hear everything?" were my first words as soon as we took
up our position side by side, leaning over my bed-place.
He had. And the proof of it was his earnest whisper, "The man told
you he hardly dared to give the order."
I understood the reference to be to that saving foresail.
"Yes. He was afraid of it being lost in the setting."
"I assure you he never gave the order. He may think he did, but he
never gave it. He stood there with me on the break of the poop
after the maintopsail blew away, and whimpered about our last hope-
-positively whimpered about it and nothing else--and the night
coming on! To hear one's skipper go on like that in such weather
was enough to drive any fellow out of his mind. It worked me up
into a sort of desperation. I just took it into my own hands and
went away from him, boiling, and-- But what's the use telling you?
YOU know! . . . Do you think that if I had not been pretty fierce
with them I should have got the men to do anything? Not it! The
bo's'n perhaps? Perhaps! It wasn't a heavy sea--it was a sea gone
mad! I suppose the end of the world will be something like that;
and a man may have the heart to see it coming once and be done with
it--but to have to face it day after day--I don't blame anybody. I
was precious little better than the rest. Only--I was an officer
of that old coal-waggon, anyhow--"
"I quite understand," I conveyed that sincere assurance into his
ear. He was out of breath with whispering; I could hear him pant
slightly. It was all very simple. The same strung-up force which
had given twenty-four men a chance, at least, for their lives, had,
in a sort of recoil, crushed an unworthy mutinous existence.
But I had no leisure to weigh the merits of the matter--footsteps
in the saloon, a heavy knock. "There's enough wind to get under
way with, sir." Here was the call of a new claim upon my thoughts
and even upon my feelings.
"Turn the hands up," I cried through the door. "I'll be on deck
directly."
I was going out to make the acquaintance of my ship. Before I left
the cabin our eyes met--the eyes of the only two strangers on
board. I pointed to the recessed part where the little camp-stool
awaited him and laid my finger on my lips. He made a gesture--
somewhat vague--a little mysterious, accompanied by a faint smile,
as if of regret.
This is not the place to enlarge upon the sensations of a man who
feels for the first time a ship move under his feet to his own
independent word. In my case they were not unalloyed. I was not
wholly alone with my command; for there was that stranger in my
cabin. Or rather, I was not completely and wholly with her. Part
of me was absent. That mental feeling of being in two places at
once affected me physically as if the mood of secrecy had
penetrated my very soul. Before an hour had elapsed since the ship
had begun to move, having occasion to ask the mate (he stood by my
side) to take a compass bearing of the Pagoda, I caught myself
reaching up to his ear in whispers. I say I caught myself, but
enough had escaped to startle the man. I can't describe it
otherwise than by saying that he shied. A grave, preoccupied
manner, as though he were in possession of some perplexing
intelligence, did not leave him henceforth. A little later I moved
away from the rail to look at the compass with such a stealthy gait
that the helmsman noticed it--and I could not help noticing the
unusual roundness of his eyes. These are trifling instances,
though it's to no commander's advantage to be suspected of
ludicrous eccentricities. But I was also more seriously affected.
There are to a seaman certain words, gestures, that should in given
conditions come as naturally, as instinctively as the winking of a
menaced eye. A certain order should spring on to his lips without
thinking; a certain sign should get itself made, so to speak,
without reflection. But all unconscious alertness had abandoned
me. I had to make an effort of will to recall myself back (from
the cabin) to the conditions of the moment. I felt that I was
appearing an irresolute commander to those people who were watching
me more or less critically.
And, besides, there were the scares. On the second day out, for
instance, coming off the deck in the afternoon (I had straw
slippers on my bare feet) I stopped at the open pantry door and
spoke to the steward. He was doing something there with his back
to me. At the sound of my voice he nearly jumped out of his skin,
as the saying is, and incidentally broke a cup.
"What on earth's the matter with you?" I asked, astonished.
He was extremely confused. "Beg your pardon, sir. I made sure you
were in your cabin."
"You see I wasn't."
"No, sir. I could have sworn I had heard you moving in there not a
moment ago. It's most extraordinary . . . very sorry, sir."
I passed on with an inward shudder. I was so identified with my
secret double that I did not even mention the fact in those scanty,
fearful whispers we exchanged. I suppose he had made some slight
noise of some kind or other. It would have been miraculous if he
hadn't at one time or another. And yet, haggard as he appeared, he
looked always perfectly self-controlled, more than calm--almost
invulnerable. On my suggestion he remained almost entirely in the
bathroom, which, upon the whole, was the safest place. There could
be really no shadow of an excuse for any one ever wanting to go in
there, once the steward had done with it. It was a very tiny
place. Sometimes he reclined on the floor, his legs bent, his head
sustained on one elbow. At others I would find him on the camp-
stool, sitting in his grey sleeping-suit and with his cropped dark
hair like a patient, unmoved convict. At night I would smuggle him
into my bed-place, and we would whisper together, with the regular
footfalls of the officer of the watch passing and repassing over
our heads. It was an infinitely miserable time. It was lucky that
some tins of fine preserves were stowed in a locker in my
stateroom; hard bread I could always get hold of; and so he lived
on stewed chicken, pate de foie gras, asparagus, cooked oysters,
sardines--on all sorts of abominable sham delicacies out of tins.
My early morning coffee he always drank; and it was all I dared do
for him in that respect.
Every day there was the horrible manoeuvring to go through so that
my room and then the bath-room should be done in the usual way. I
came to hate the sight of the steward, to abhor the voice of that
harmless man. I felt that it was he who would bring on the
disaster of discovery. It hung like a sword over our heads.
The fourth day out, I think (we were then working down the east
side of the Gulf of Siam, tack for tack, in light winds and smooth
water)--the fourth day, I say, of this miserable juggling with the
unavoidable, as we sat at our evening meal, that man, whose
slightest movement I dreaded, after putting down the dishes ran up
on deck busily. This could not be dangerous. Presently he came
down again; and then it appeared that he had remembered a coat of
mine which I had thrown over a rail to dry after having been wetted
in a shower which had passed over the ship in the afternoon.
Sitting stolidly at the head of the table I became terrified at the
sight of the garment on his arm. Of course he made for my door.
There was no time to lose.
"Steward," I thundered. My nerves were so shaken that I could not
govern my voice and conceal my agitation. This was the sort of
thing that made my terrifically whiskered mate tap his forehead
with his forefinger. I had detected him using that gesture while
talking on deck with a confidential air to the carpenter. It was
too far to hear a word, but I had no doubt that this pantomime
could only refer to the strange new captain.
"Yes, sir," the pale-faced steward turned resignedly to me. It was
this maddening course of being shouted at, checked without rhyme or
reason, arbitrarily chased out of my cabin, suddenly called into
it, sent flying out of his pantry on incomprehensible errands, that
accounted for the growing wretchedness of his expression.
"Where are you going with that coat?"
"To your room, sir."
"Is there another shower coming?"
"I'm sure I don't know, sir. Shall I go up again and see, sir?"
"No! never mind."
My object was attained, as of course my other self in there would
have heard everything that passed. During this interlude my two
officers never raised their eyes off their respective plates; but
the lip of that confounded cub, the second mate, quivered visibly.
I expected the steward to hook my coat on and come out at once. He
was very slow about it; but I dominated my nervousness sufficiently
not to shout after him. Suddenly I became aware (it could be heard
plainly enough) that the fellow for some reason or other was
opening the door of the bath-room. It was the end. The place was
literally not big enough to swing a cat in. My voice died in my
throat and I went stony all over. I expected to hear a yell of
surprise and terror, and made a movement, but had not the strength
to get on my legs. Everything remained still. Had my second self
taken the poor wretch by the throat? I don't know what I would
have done next moment if I had not seen the steward come out of my
room, close the door, and then stand quietly by the sideboard.
"Saved," I thought. "But, no! Lost! Gone! He was gone!"
I laid my knife and fork down and leaned back in my chair. My head
swam. After a while, when sufficiently recovered to speak in a
steady voice, I instructed my mate to put the ship round at eight
o'clock himself.
"I won't come on deck," I went on. "I think I'll turn in, and
unless the wind shifts I don't want to be disturbed before
midnight. I feel a bit seedy."
"You did look middling bad a little while ago," the chief mate
remarked without showing any great concern.
They both went out, and I stared at the steward clearing the table.
There was nothing to be read on that wretched man's face. But why
did he avoid my eyes I asked myself. Then I thought I should like
to hear the sound of his voice.
"Steward!"
"Sir!" Startled as usual.
"Where did you hang up that coat?"
"In the bath-room, sir." The usual anxious tone. "It's not quite
dry yet, sir."
For some time longer I sat in the cuddy. Had my double vanished as
he had come? But of his coming there was an explanation, whereas
his disappearance would be inexplicable. . . . I went slowly into
my dark room, shut the door, lighted the lamp, and for a time dared
not turn round. When at last I did I saw him standing bolt-upright
in the narrow recessed part. It would not be true to say I had a
shock, but an irresistible doubt of his bodily existence flitted
through my mind. Can it be, I asked myself, that he is not visible
to other eyes than mine? It was like being haunted. Motionless,
with a grave face, he raised his hands slightly at me in a gesture
which meant clearly, "Heavens! what a narrow escape!" Narrow
indeed. I think I had come creeping quietly as near insanity as
any man who has not actually gone over the border. That gesture
restrained me, so to speak.
The mate with the terrific whiskers was now putting the ship on the
other tack. In the moment of profound silence which follows upon
the hands going to their stations I heard on the poop his raised
voice: "Hard alee!" and the distant shout of the order repeated on
the maindeck. The sails, in that light breeze, made but a faint
fluttering noise. It ceased. The ship was coming round slowly; I
held my breath in the renewed stillness of expectation; one
wouldn't have thought that there was a single living soul on her
decks. A sudden brisk shout, "Mainsail haul!" broke the spell, and
in the noisy cries and rush overhead of the men running away with
the main-brace we two, down in my cabin, came together in our usual
position by the bed-place.
He did not wait for my question. "I heard him fumbling here and
just managed to squat myself down in the bath," he whispered to me.
"The fellow only opened the door and put his arm in to hang the
coat up. All the same--"
"I never thought of that," I whispered back, even more appalled
than before at the closeness of the shave, and marvelling at that
something unyielding in his character which was carrying him
through so finely. There was no agitation in his whisper. Whoever
was being driven distracted, it was not he. He was sane. And the
proof of his sanity was continued when he took up the whispering
again.
"It would never do for me to come to life again."
It was something that a ghost might have said. But what he was
alluding to was his old captain's reluctant admission of the theory
of suicide. It would obviously serve his turn--if I had understood
at all the view which seemed to govern the unalterable purpose of
his action.
"You must maroon me as soon as ever you can get amongst these
islands off the Cambodje shore," he went on.
"Maroon you! We are not living in a boy's adventure tale," I
protested. His scornful whispering took me up.
"We aren't indeed! There's nothing of a boy's tale in this. But
there's nothing else for it. I want no more. You don't suppose I
am afraid of what can be done to me? Prison or gallows or whatever
they may please. But you don't see me coming back to explain such
things to an old fellow in a wig and twelve respectable tradesmen,
do you? What can they know whether I am guilty or not--or of WHAT
I am guilty, either? That's my affair. What does the Bible say?
'Driven off the face of the earth.' Very well. I am off the face
of the earth now. As I came at night so I shall go."
"Impossible!" I murmured. "You can't."
"Can't? . . . Not naked like a soul on the Day of Judgment. I
shall freeze on to this sleeping-suit. The Last Day is not yet--
and you have understood thoroughly. Didn't you?"
I felt suddenly ashamed of myself. I may say truly that I
understood--and my hesitation in letting that man swim away from my
ship's side had been a mere sham sentiment, a sort of cowardice.
"It can't be done now till next night," I breathed out. "The ship
is on the off-shore tack and the wind may fail us."
"As long as I know that you understand," he whispered. "But of
course you do. It's a great satisfaction to have got somebody to
understand. You seem to have been there on purpose." And in the
same whisper, as if we two whenever we talked had to say things to
each other which were not fit for the world to hear, he added,
"It's very wonderful." We remained side by side talking in our
secret way--but sometimes silent or just exchanging a whispered
word or two at long intervals. And as usual he stared through the
port. A breath of wind came now and again into our faces. The
ship might have been moored in dock, so gently and on an even keel
she slipped through the water, that did not murmur even at our
passage, shadowy and silent like a phantom sea.
At midnight I went on deck, and to my mate's great surprise put the
ship round on the other tack. His terrible whiskers flitted round
me in silent criticism. I certainly should not have done it if it
had been only a question of getting out of that sleepy gulf as
quickly as possible. I believe he told the second mate, who
relieved him, that it was a great want of judgment. The other only
yawned. That intolerable cub shuffled about so sleepily and lolled
against the rails in such a slack, improper fashion that I came
down on him sharply.
"Aren't you properly awake yet?"
"Yes, sir! I am awake."
"Well, then, be good enough to hold yourself as if you were. And
keep a look-out. If there's any current we'll be closing with some
islands before daylight."
The east side of the gulf is fringed with islands, some solitary,
others in groups. On the blue background of the high coast they
seem to float on silvery patches of calm water, arid and grey, or
dark green and rounded like clumps of evergreen bushes, with the
larger ones, a mile or two long, showing the outlines of ridges,
ribs of grey rock under the dank mantle of matted leafage. Unknown
to trade, to travel, almost to geography, the manner of life they
harbour is an unsolved secret. There must be villages--settlements
of fishermen at least--on the largest of them, and some
communication with the world is probably kept up by native craft.
But all that forenoon, as we headed for them, fanned along by the
faintest of breezes, I saw no sign of man or canoe in the field of
the telescope I kept on pointing at the scattered group.
At noon I gave no orders for a change of course, and the mate's
whiskers became much concerned and seemed to be offering themselves
unduly to my notice. At last I said:
"I am going to stand right in. Quite in--as far as I can take
her."
The stare of extreme surprise imparted an air of ferocity also to
his eyes, and he looked truly terrific for a moment.
"We're not doing well in the middle of the gulf," I continued,
casually. "I am going to look for the land breezes to-night."
"Bless my soul! Do you mean, sir, in the dark amongst the lot of
all them islands and reefs and shoals?"
"Well--if there are any regular land breezes at all on this coast
one must get close inshore to find them, mustn't one?"
"Bless my soul!" he exclaimed again under his breath. All that
afternoon he wore a dreamy, contemplative appearance which in him
was a mark of perplexity. After dinner I went into my stateroom as
if I meant to take some rest. There we two bent our dark heads
over a half-unrolled chart lying on my bed.
"There," I said. "It's got to be Koh-ring. I've been looking at
it ever since sunrise. It has got two hills and a low point. It
must be inhabited. And on the coast opposite there is what looks
like the mouth of a biggish river--with some town, no doubt, not
far up. It's the best chance for you that I can see."
"Anything. Koh-ring let it be."
He looked thoughtfully at the chart as if surveying chances and
distances from a lofty height--and following with his eyes his own
figure wandering on the blank land of Cochin-China, and then
passing off that piece of paper clean out of sight into uncharted
regions. And it was as if the ship had two captains to plan her
course for her. I had been so worried and restless running up and
down that I had not had the patience to dress that day. I had
remained in my sleeping-suit, with straw slippers and a soft floppy
hat. The closeness of the heat in the gulf had been most
oppressive, and the crew were used to see me wandering in that airy
attire.
"She will clear the south point as she heads now," I whispered into
his ear. "Goodness only knows when, though, but certainly after
dark. I'll edge her in to half a mile, as far as I may be able to
judge in the dark--"
"Be careful," he murmured, warningly--and I realised suddenly that
all my future, the only future for which I was fit, would perhaps
go irretrievably to pieces in any mishap to my first command.
I could not stop a moment longer in the room. I motioned him to
get out of sight and made my way on the poop. That unplayful cub
had the watch. I walked up and down for a while thinking things
out, then beckoned him over.
"Send a couple of hands to open the two quarterdeck ports," I said,
mildly.
He actually had the impudence, or else so forgot himself in his
wonder at such an incomprehensible order, as to repeat:
"Open the quarter-deck ports! What for, sir?"
"The only reason you need concern yourself about is because I tell
you to do so. Have them open wide and fastened properly."
He reddened and went off, but I believe made some jeering remark to
the carpenter as to the sensible practice of ventilating a ship's
quarter-deck. I know he popped into the mate's cabin to impart the
fact to him because the whiskers came on deck, as it were by
chance, and stole glances at me from below--for signs of lunacy or
drunkenness, I suppose.
A little before supper, feeling more restless than ever, I
rejoined, for a moment, my second self. And to find him sitting so
quietly was surprising, like something against nature, inhuman.
I developed my plan in a hurried whisper.
"I shall stand in as close as I dare and then put her round. I
shall presently find means to smuggle you out of here into the
sail-locker, which communicates with the lobby. But there is an
opening, a sort of square for hauling the sails out, which gives
straight on the quarter-deck and which is never closed in fine
weather, so as to give air to the sails. ' When the ship's way is
deadened in stays and all the hands are aft at the main-braces you
shall have a clear road to slip out and get overboard through the
open quarter-deck port. I've had them both fastened up. Use a
rope's end to lower yourself into the water so as to avoid a
splash--you know. It could be heard and cause some beastly
complication."
He kept silent for a while, then whispered, "I understand."
"I won't be there to see you go," I began with an effort. "The
rest . . . I only hope I have understood, too."
"You have. From first to last"--and for the first time there
seemed to be a faltering, something strained in his whisper. He
caught hold of my arm, but the ringing of the supper bell made me
start. He didn't, though; he only released his grip.
After supper I didn't come below again till well past eight
o'clock. The faint, steady breeze was loaded with dew; and the
wet, darkened sails held all there was of propelling power in it.
The night, clear and starry, sparkled darkly, and the opaque,
lightless patches shifting slowly against the low stars were the
drifting islets. On the port bow there was a big one more distant
and shadowily imposing by the great space of sky it eclipsed.
On opening the door I had a back view of my very own self looking
at a chart. He had come out of the recess and was standing near
the table.
"Quite dark enough," I whispered.
He stepped back and leaned against my bed with a level, quiet
glance. I sat on the couch. We had nothing to say to each other.
Over our heads the officer of the watch moved here and there. Then
I heard him move quickly. I knew what that meant. He was making
for the companion; and presently his voice was outside my door.
"We are drawing in pretty fast, sir. Land looks rather close."
"Very well," I answered. "I am coming on deck directly."
I waited till he was gone out of the cuddy, then rose. My double
moved too. The time had come to exchange our last whispers, for
neither of us was ever to hear each other's natural voice.
"Look here!" I opened a drawer and took out three sovereigns.
"Take this, anyhow. I've got six and I'd give you the lot, only I
must keep a little money to buy some fruit and vegetables for the
crew from native boats as we go through Sunda Straits."
He shook his head.
"Take it," I urged him, whispering desperately. "No one can tell
what--"
He smiled and slapped meaningly the only pocket of the sleeping-
jacket. It was not safe, certainly. But I produced a large old
silk handkerchief of mine, and tying the three pieces of gold in a
corner, pressed it on him. He was touched, I suppose, because he
took it at last and tied it quickly round his waist under the
jacket, on his bare skin.
Our eyes met; several seconds elapsed, till, our glances still
mingled, I extended my hand and turned the lamp out. Then I passed
through the cuddy, leaving the door of my room wide open. . . . .
"Steward!"
He was still lingering in the pantry in the greatness of his zeal,
giving a rub-up to a plated cruet stand the last thing before going
to bed. Being careful not to wake up the mate, whose room was
opposite, I spoke in an undertone.
He looked round anxiously. "Sir!"
"Can you get me a little hot water from the galley?"
"I am afraid, sir, the galley fire's been out for some time now."
"Go and see."
He fled up the stairs.
"Now," I whispered, loudly, into the saloon--too loudly, perhaps,
but I was afraid I couldn't make a sound. He was by my side in an
instant--the double captain slipped past the stairs--through a tiny
dark passage . . . a sliding door. We were in the sail-locker,
scrambling on our knees over the sails. A sudden thought struck
me. I saw myself wandering barefooted, bareheaded, the sun beating
on my dark poll. I snatched off my floppy hat and tried hurriedly
in the dark to ram it on my other self. He dodged and fended off
silently. I wonder what he thought had come to me before he
understood and suddenly desisted. Our hands met gropingly,
lingered united in a steady, motionless clasp for a second. . . .
No word was breathed by either of us when they separated.
I was standing quietly by the pantry door when the steward
returned.
"Sorry, sir. Kettle barely warm. Shall I light the spirit-lamp?"
"Never mind."
I came out on deck slowly. It was now a matter of conscience to
shave the land as close as possible--for now he must go overboard
whenever the ship was put in stays. Must! There could be no going
back for him. After a moment I walked over to leeward and my heart
flew into my mouth at the nearness of the land on the bow. Under
any other circumstances I would not have held on a minute longer.
The second mate had followed me anxiously.
I looked on till I felt I could command my voice. "She will
weather," I said then in a quiet tone. "Are you going to try that,
sir?" he stammered out incredulously.
I took no notice of him and raised my tone just enough to be heard
by the helmsman.
"Keep her good full."
"Good full, sir."
The wind fanned my cheek, the sails slept, the world was silent.
The strain of watching the dark loom of the land grow bigger and
denser was too much for me. I had shut my eyes--because the ship
must go closer. She must! The stillness was intolerable. Were we
standing still?
When I opened my eyes the second view started my heart with a
thump. The black southern hill of Koh-ring seemed to hang right
over the ship like a towering fragment of the everlasting night.
On that enormous mass of blackness there was not a gleam to be
seen, not a sound to be heard. It was gliding irresistibly toward
us and yet seemed already within reach of the hand. I saw the
vague figures of the watch grouped in the waist, gazing in awed
silence.
"Are you going on, sir," inquired an unsteady voice at my elbow.
I ignored it. I had to go on.
"Keep her full. Don't check her way. That won't do now," I said,
warningly.
"I can't see the sails very well," the helmsman answered me, in
strange, quavering tones.
Was she close enough? Already she was, I won't say in the shadow
of the land, but in the very blackness of it, already swallowed up
as it were, gone too close to be recalled, gone from me altogether.
"Give the mate a call," I said to the young man who stood at my
elbow as still as death. "And turn all hands up."
My tone had a borrowed loudness reverberated from the height of the
land. Several voices cried out together: "We are all on deck,
sir."
Then stillness again, with the great shadow gliding closer,
towering higher, without a light, without a sound. Such a hush had
fallen on the ship that she might have been a bark of the dead
floating in slowly under the very gate of Erebus.
"My God! Where are we?"
It was the mate moaning at my elbow. He was thunderstruck, and as
it were deprived of the moral support of his whiskers. He clapped
his hands and absolutely cried out, "Lost!"
"Be quiet," I said, sternly.
He lowered his tone, but I saw the shadowy gesture of his despair.
"What are we doing here?"
"Looking for the land wind."
He made as if to tear his hair, and addressed me recklessly.
"She will never get out. You have done it, sir. I knew it'd end
in something like this. She will never weather, and you are too
close now to stay. She'll drift ashore before she's round. O my
God!"
I caught his arm as he was raising it to batter his poor devoted
head, and shook it violently.
"She's ashore already," he wailed, trying to tear himself away.
"Is she? . . . Keep good full there!"
"Good full, sir," cried the helmsman in a frightened, thin, child-
like voice.
I hadn't let go the mate's arm and went on shaking it. "Ready
about, do you hear? You go forward"--shake--"and stop there"--
shake--"and hold your noise"--shake--"and see these head-sheets
properly overhauled"--shake, shake--shake.
And all the time I dared not look toward the land lest my heart
should fail me. I released my grip at last and he ran forward as
if fleeing for dear life.
I wondered what my double there in the sail-locker thought of this
commotion. He was able to hear everything--and perhaps he was able
to understand why, on my conscience, it had to be thus close--no
less. My first order "Hard alee!" re-echoed ominously under the
towering shadow of Koh-ring as if I had shouted in a mountain
gorge. And then I watched the land intently. In that smooth water
and light wind it was impossible to feel the ship coming-to. No!
I could not feel her. And my second self was making now ready to
slip out and lower himself overboard. Perhaps he was gone already
. . .?
The great black mass brooding over our very mastheads began to
pivot away from the ship's side silently. And now I forgot the
secret stranger ready to depart, and remembered only that I was a
total stranger to the ship. I did not know her. Would she do it?
How was she to be handled?
I swung the mainyard and waited helplessly. She was perhaps
stopped, and her very fate hung in the balance, with the black mass
of Koh-ring like the gate of the everlasting night towering over
her taffrail. What would she do now? Had she way on her yet? I
stepped to the side swiftly, and on the shadowy water I could see
nothing except a faint phosphorescent flash revealing the glassy
smoothness of the sleeping surface. It was impossible to tell--and
I had not learned yet the feel of my ship. Was she moving? What I
needed was something easily seen, a piece of paper, which I could
throw overboard and watch. I had nothing on me. To run down for
it I didn't dare. There was no time. All at once my strained,
yearning stare distinguished a white object floating within a yard
of the ship's side. White on the black water. A phosphorescent
flash passed under it. What was that thing? . . . I recognised my
own floppy hat. It must have fallen off his head . . . and he
didn't bother.
Now I had what I wanted--the saving mark for my eyes. But I hardly
thought of my other self, now gone from the ship, to be hidden
forever from all friendly faces, to be a fugitive and a vagabond on
the earth, with no brand of the curse on his sane forehead to stay
a slaying hand . . . too proud to explain.
And I watched the hat--the expression of my sudden pity for his
mere flesh. It had been meant to save his homeless head from the
dangers of the sun. And now--behold--it was saving the ship, by
serving me for a mark to help out the ignorance of my strangeness.
Ha! It was drifting forward, warning me just in time that the ship
had gathered sternway.
"Shift the helm," I said in a low voice to the seaman standing
still like a statue.
The man's eyes glistened wildly in the binnacle light as he jumped
round to the other side and spun round the wheel.
I walked to the break of the poop. On the overshadowed deck all
hands stood by the forebraces waiting for my order. The stars
ahead seemed to be gliding from right to left. And all was so
still in the world that I heard the quiet remark "She's round,"
passed in a tone of intense relief between two seamen.
"Let go and haul."
The foreyards ran round with a great noise, amidst cheery cries.
And now the frightful whisker's made themselves heard giving
various orders. Already the ship was drawing ahead. And I was
alone with her. Nothing! no one in the world should stand now
between us, throwing a shadow on the way of silent knowledge and
mute affection, the perfect communion of a seaman with his first
command.
Walking to the taffrail, I was in time to make out, on the very
edge of a darkness thrown by a towering black mass like the very
gateway of Erebus--yes, I was in time to catch an evanescent
glimpse of my white hat left behind to mark the spot where the
secret sharer of my cabin and of my thoughts, as though he were my
second self, had lowered himself into the water to take his
punishment: a free man, a proud swimmer striking out for a new
destiny.
