Podmore cooked what there was to cook, remorsefully, Page 107and felt all the time that by preparing the food of such sinners he imperilled his own salvation. As to the Captain -- he had lived with him for seven years, he said, and would not have believed it possible that such a man....‘Well. Well....There it is.... Can't get out of it. Judgment capsized all in a minute....Struck in all his pride....More like a visitation than anything else.’ Donkin, perched sullenly on the coal-locker, swung his legs and concurred. He paid in the coin of spurious assent for the privilege to sit in the galley; he was disheartened and scandalised; he agreed with the cook; could find no words severe enough to criticise our conduct; and when in the heat of reprobation he swore at us, Podmore, who would have liked to swear also if it hadn't been for his principles, pretended not to hear. So Donkin, unrebuked, cursed enough for two, cadged for matches, borrowed tobacco, and loafed for hours, very much at home before the stove. From there he could hear us on the other side of the bulkhead, talking to Jimmy. The cook knocked the pots about, slammed the oven door, muttered prophecies of damnation for all the ship's company; and Donkin, who did not admit of any hereafter, except for the purposes of blasphemy, listened, concentrated and angry, gloating fiercely over a called-up image of infinite torment -- like men gloat over the accursed images of cruelty and revenge, of greed, and of power.....
On clear evenings the silent ship, under the cold sheen of the dead moon, took on the false aspect of passionless repose resembling the winter of the earth. Under her a long band of gold barred the black disc of the sea. Footsteps echoed on her quiet decks. The moonlight clung to her like a frosted mist, and the white sails stood out in dazzling cones as of stainless snow. In the magnificence of the phantom rays the ship appeared pure like a vision of ideal beauty, illusive like a tender dream of serene peace. And nothing in her was real, nothing was distinct and solid but the heavy shadows that filled her decks with their unceasing and noiseless stir; the shadows blacker than the night and more restless than the thoughts of men.
Donkin prowled spiteful and alone amongst the shadows, thinking that Jimmy too long delayed to die. That evening, just before dark, land had been reported from aloft, and the master, Page 108while adjusting the tubes of the long glass, had observed with quiet bitterness to Mr. Baker that, after fighting our way inch by inch to the Western Islands there was nothing to expect now but a spell of calm. The sky was clear and the barometer high. The light breeze dropped with the sun, and an enormous stillness, the forerunner of a night without wind, descended upon the heated waters of the ocean. As long as daylight lasted, the hands collected on the forecastle-head watched on the eastern sky the island of Flores, that rose above the level expanse of the sea with irregular and broken outlines like a sombre ruin upon a vast and deserted plain.
It was the first land seen for nearly four months. Charley was excited, and in the midst of general indulgence took liberties with his betters.
Men strangely elated without knowing why, talked in groups, and pointed with bared arms. For the first time that voyage Jimmy's sham existence seemed for a moment forgotten in the face of a solid reality. We had got so far anyhow. Belfast discoursed, quoting imaginary examples of short homeward passages from the Islands. ‘Them smart fruit schooners do it in five days,’ he affirmed. ‘What do you want?
-- only a good little breeze.’ Archie maintained that seven days was the shortest passage, and they disputed amicably with insulting words.
Knowles declared he could already smell home from there, and with a heavy list on his short leg laughed fit to split his sides. A group of grizzled sea-dogs looked out for a time in silence and with grim absorbed faces.
One said suddenly -- ‘Tain't far to London now.’ --‘My first night ashore, blamme if I haven't steak and onions for supper....and a pint of bitter,’ said another. -- ‘Abarrel ye mean,’ shouted some one. -- ‘Ham an' eggs three times a day. That's the way I live!’ cried an excited voice.
There was a stir, appreciative murmurs; eyes began to shine; jaws champed;short nervous laughs were heard. Archie smiled with reserve all to himself.
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said somebody quietly. The murmur of lively talk suddenly wavered, died out; the clusters broke up; men began to drift away one by one, descending the ladders slowly and with serious faces as if sobered by that reminder of their dependence upon the invisible. And when the big yellow moon ascended gently above the sharp rim of the clear horizon it found the ship wrapped up in a breathless silence; a fearless ship that seemed to sleep profoundly, dreamlessly, on the bosom of the sleeping and terrible sea.
Donkin chafed at the peace -- at the ship -- at the sea that stretched away on all sides merged into the illimitable silence of all creation. He felt himself pulled up sharp by unrecognised grievances.
