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Iscarcelyknowwheretobegin,thoughIsometimesfacetiouslyplacethecauseofitalltoCharleyFuruseth’scredit.
HekeptasummercottageinMillValley,undertheshadowofMountTamalpais,andneveroccupieditexceptwhenheloafedthroughthewintermouthsandreadNietzscheandSchopenhauertoresthisbrain.
Whensummercameon,heelectedtosweatoutahotanddustyexistenceinthecityandtotoilincessantly.
HaditnotbeenmycustomtorunuptoseehimeverySaturdayafternoonandtostopovertillMondaymorning,thisparticularJanuaryMondaymorningwouldnothavefoundmeafloatonSanFranciscoBay.
NotbutthatIwasafloatinasafecraft,fortheMartinezwasanewferry-steamer,makingherfourthorfifthtripontherunbetweenSausalitoandSanFrancisco.
Thedangerlayintheheavyfogwhichblanketedthebay,andofwhich,asalandsman,Ihadlittleapprehension.
Infact,IremembertheplacidexaltationwithwhichItookupmypositionontheforwardupperdeck,directlybeneaththepilot-house,andallowedthemysteryofthefogtolayholdofmyimagination.
Afreshbreezewasblowing,andforatimeIwasaloneinthemoistobscurity—yetnotalone,forIwasdimlyconsciousofthepresenceofthepilot,andofwhatItooktobethecaptain,intheglasshouseabovemyhead.
Irememberthinkinghowcomfortableitwas,thisdivisionoflabourwhichmadeitunnecessaryformetostudyfogs,winds,tides,andnavigation,inordertovisitmyfriendwholivedacrossanarmofthesea.
Itwasgoodthatmenshouldbespecialists,Imused.
ThepeculiarknowledgeofthepilotandcaptainsufficedformanythousandsofpeoplewhoknewnomoreoftheseaandnavigationthanIknew.
Ontheotherhand,insteadofhavingtodevotemyenergytothelearningofamultitudeofthings,Iconcentratedituponafewparticularthings,suchas,forinstance,theanalysisofPoe’splaceinAmericanliterature—anessayofmine,bytheway,inthecurrentAtlantic.
Comingaboard,asIpassedthroughthecabin,IhadnoticedwithgreedyeyesastoutgentlemanreadingtheAtlantic,whichwasopenatmyveryessay.
Andthereitwasagain,thedivisionoflabour,thespecialknowledgeofthepilotandcaptainwhichpermittedthestoutgentlemantoreadmyspecialknowledgeonPoewhiletheycarriedhimsafelyfromSausalitotoSanFrancisco.
Ared-facedman,slammingthecabindoorbehindhimandstumpingoutonthedeck,interruptedmyreflections,thoughImadeamentalnoteofthetopicforuseinaprojectedessaywhichIhadthoughtofcalling“TheNecessityforFreedom:APleafortheArtist.”
Thered-facedmanshotaglanceupatthepilot-house,gazedaroundatthefog,stumpedacrossthedeckandback(heevidentlyhadartificiallegs),andstoodstillbymyside,legswideapart,andwithanexpressionofkeenenjoymentonhisface.
IwasnotwrongwhenIdecidedthathisdayshadbeenspentonthesea.
“It’snastyweatherlikethisherethatturnsheadsgreybeforetheirtime,”hesaid,withanodtowardthepilot-house.
“Ihadnotthoughttherewasanyparticularstrain,”Ianswered.“ItseemsassimpleasA,B,C.
Theyknowthedirectionbycompass,thedistance,andthespeed.
Ishouldnotcallitanythingmorethanmathematicalcertainty.”
“Strain!”hesnorted.“SimpleasA,B,C!Mathematicalcertainty!”
Heseemedtobracehimselfupandleanbackwardagainsttheairashestaredatme.
“Howaboutthisheretidethat’srushin’outthroughtheGoldenGate?”hedemanded,orbellowed,rather.“Howfastissheebbin’?What’sthedrift,eh?Listentothat,willyou?Abell-buoy,andwe’rea-topofit!See’emalterin’thecourse!”
Fromoutofthefogcamethemournfultollingofabell,andIcouldseethepilotturningthewheelwithgreatrapidity.
Thebell,whichhadseemedstraightahead,wasnowsoundingfromtheside.
Ourownwhistlewasblowinghoarsely,andfromtimetotimethesoundofotherwhistlescametousfromoutofthefog.
“That’saferry-boatofsomesort,”thenew-comersaid,indicatingawhistleofftotheright.“Andthere!D’yehearthat?Blownbymouth.Somescowschooner,mostlikely.Betterwatchout,Mr.Schooner-man.Ah,Ithoughtso.Nowhell’sapoppin’forsomebody!”
Theunseenferry-boatwasblowingblastafterblast,andthemouth-blownhornwastootinginterror-strickenfashion.
“Andnowthey’repayin’theirrespectstoeachotherandtryin’togetclear,”thered-facedmanwenton,asthehurriedwhistlingceased.
Hisfacewasshining,hiseyesflashingwithexcitementashetranslatedintoarticulatelanguagethespeechofthehornsandsirens.
“That’sasteam-sirena-goin’itovertheretotheleft.
Andyouhearthatfellowwithafroginhisthroat—asteamschoonerasnearasIcanjudge,crawlin’infromtheHeadsagainstthetide.”
Ashrilllittlewhistle,pipingasifgonemad,camefromdirectlyaheadandfromverynearathand.GongssoundedontheMartinez.
Ourpaddle-wheelsstopped,theirpulsingbeatdiedaway,andthentheystartedagain.
Theshrilllittlewhistle,likethechirpingofacricketamidthecriesofgreatbeasts,shotthroughthefogfrommoretothesideandswiftlygrewfaintandfainter.
Ilookedtomycompanionforenlightenment.
“Oneofthemdare-devillaunches,”hesaid.
“Ialmostwishwe’dsunkhim,thelittlerip!They’rethecauseofmoretrouble.Andwhatgoodarethey?
Anyjackassgetsaboardoneandrunsitfromhelltobreakfast,blowin’hiswhistletobeatthebandandtellin’therestoftheworldtolookoutforhim,becausehe’scomin’andcan’tlookoutforhimself!Becausehe’scomin’!Andyou’vegottolookout,too!Rightofway!Commondecency!Theydon’tknowthemeanin’ofit!”
Ifeltquiteamusedathisunwarrantedcholer,andwhilehestumpedindignantlyupanddownIfelltodwellingupontheromanceofthefog.
Andromanticitcertainlywas—thefog,likethegreyshadowofinfinitemystery,broodingoverthewhirlingspeckofearth;andmen,meremotesoflightandsparkle,cursedwithaninsanerelishforwork,ridingtheirsteedsofwoodandsteelthroughtheheartofthemystery,gropingtheirwayblindlythroughtheUnseen,andclamouringandclanginginconfidentspeechthewhiletheirheartsareheavywithincertitudeandfear.
Thevoiceofmycompanionbroughtmebacktomyselfwithalaugh.Itoohadbeengropingandfloundering,thewhileIthoughtIrodeclear-eyedthroughthemystery.
“Hello!somebodycomin’ourway,”hewassaying.“Andd’yehearthat?He’scomin’fast.Walkingrightalong.Guesshedon’thearusyet.Wind’sinwrongdirection.”
Thefreshbreezewasblowingrightdownuponus,andIcouldhearthewhistleplainly,offtoonesideandalittleahead.
“Ferry-boat?”Iasked.
Henodded,thenadded,“Orhewouldn’tbekeepin’upsuchaclip.”Hegaveashortchuckle.“They’regettin’anxiousupthere.”
Iglancedup.Thecaptainhadthrusthisheadandshouldersoutofthepilot-house,andwasstaringintentlyintothefogasthoughbysheerforceofwillhecouldpenetrateit.
Hisfacewasanxious,aswasthefaceofmycompanion,whohadstumpedovertotherailandwasgazingwithalikeintentnessinthedirectionoftheinvisibledanger.
Theneverythinghappened,andwithinconceivablerapidity.
Thefogseemedtobreakawayasthoughsplitbyawedge,andthebowofasteamboatemerged,trailingfog-wreathsoneithersidelikeseaweedonthesnoutofLeviathan.
Icouldseethepilot-houseandawhite-beardedmanleaningpartlyoutofit,onhiselbows.
Hewascladinablueuniform,andIremembernotinghowtrimandquiethewas.
Hisquietness,underthecircumstances,wasterrible.
HeacceptedDestiny,marchedhandinhandwithit,andcoollymeasuredthestroke.
Asheleanedthere,heranacalmandspeculativeeyeoverus,asthoughtodeterminetheprecisepointofthecollision,andtooknonoticewhateverwhenourpilot,whitewithrage,shouted,“Nowyou’vedoneit!”
Onlookingback,Irealizethattheremarkwastooobvioustomakerejoindernecessary.
“Grabholdofsomethingandhangon,”thered-facedmansaidtome.
Allhisblusterhadgone,andheseemedtohavecaughtthecontagionofpreternaturalcalm.
“Andlistentothewomenscream,”hesaidgrimly—almostbitterly,Ithought,asthoughhehadbeenthroughtheexperiencebefore.
ThevesselscametogetherbeforeIcouldfollowhisadvice.
Wemusthavebeenstrucksquarelyamidships,forIsawnothing,thestrangesteamboathavingpassedbeyondmylineofvision.
TheMartinezheeledover,sharply,andtherewasacrashingandrendingoftimber.
Iwasthrownflatonthewetdeck,andbeforeIcouldscrambletomyfeetIheardthescreamofthewomen.
Thisitwas,Iamcertain,—themostindescribableofblood-curdlingsounds,—thatthrewmeintoapanic.
Irememberedthelife-preserversstoredinthecabin,butwasmetatthedoorandsweptbackwardbyawildrushofmenandwomen.
WhathappenedinthenextfewminutesIdonotrecollect,thoughIhaveaclearremembranceofpullingdownlife-preserversfromtheoverheadracks,whilethered-facedmanfastenedthemaboutthebodiesofanhystericalgroupofwomen.
ThismemoryisasdistinctandsharpasthatofanypictureIhaveseen.
Itisapicture,andIcanseeitnow,—thejaggededgesoftheholeinthesideofthecabin,throughwhichthegreyfogswirledandeddied;theemptyupholsteredseats,litteredwithalltheevidencesofsuddenflight,suchaspackages,handsatchels,umbrellas,andwraps;thestoutgentlemanwhohadbeenreadingmyessay,encasedincorkandcanvas,themagazinestillinhishand,andaskingmewithmonotonousinsistenceifIthoughttherewasanydanger;thered-facedman,stumpinggallantlyaroundonhisartificiallegsandbucklinglife-preserversonallcorners;andfinally,thescreamingbedlamofwomen.
Thisitwas,thescreamingofthewomen,thatmosttriedmynerves.
Itmusthavetried,too,thenervesofthered-facedman,forIhaveanotherpicturewhichwillneverfadefrommymind.
Thestoutgentlemanisstuffingthemagazineintohisovercoatpocketandlookingoncuriously.
Atangledmassofwomen,withdrawn,whitefacesandopenmouths,isshriekinglikeachorusoflostsouls;andthered-facedman,hisfacenowpurplishwithwrath,andwitharmsextendedoverheadasintheactofhurlingthunderbolts,isshouting,“Shutup!Oh,shutup!”
Irememberthesceneimpelledmetosuddenlaughter,andinthenextinstantIrealizedIwasbecominghystericalmyself;forthesewerewomenofmyownkind,likemymotherandsisters,withthefearofdeathuponthemandunwillingtodie.
AndIrememberthatthesoundstheymaderemindedmeofthesquealingofpigsundertheknifeofthebutcher,andIwasstruckwithhorroratthevividnessoftheanalogy.
Thesewomen,capableofthemostsublimeemotions,ofthetenderestsympathies,wereopen-mouthedandscreaming.
Theywantedtolive,theywerehelpless,likeratsinatrap,andtheyscreamed.
Thehorrorofitdrovemeoutondeck.Iwasfeelingsickandsqueamish,andsatdownonabench.
InahazywayIsawandheardmenrushingandshoutingastheystrovetolowertheboats.
ItwasjustasIhadreaddescriptionsofsuchscenesinbooks.Thetacklesjammed.Nothingworked.
Oneboatloweredawaywiththeplugsout,filledwithwomenandchildrenandthenwithwater,andcapsized.
Anotherboathadbeenloweredbyoneend,andstillhunginthetacklebytheotherend,whereithadbeenabandoned.
Nothingwastobeseenofthestrangesteamboatwhichhadcausedthedisaster,thoughIheardmensayingthatshewouldundoubtedlysendboatstoourassistance.
Idescendedtothelowerdeck.TheMartinezwassinkingfast,forthewaterwasverynear.
Numbersofthepassengerswereleapingoverboard.
Others,inthewater,wereclamouringtobetakenaboardagain.Nooneheededthem.Acryarosethatweweresinking.
Iwasseizedbytheconsequentpanic,andwentoverthesideinasurgeofbodies.
HowIwentoverIdonotknow,thoughIdidknow,andinstantly,whythoseinthewaterweresodesirousofgettingbackonthesteamer.
Thewaterwascold—socoldthatitwaspainful.
Thepang,asIplungedintoit,wasasquickandsharpasthatoffire.Itbittothemarrow.Itwaslikethegripofdeath.
Igaspedwiththeanguishandshockofit,fillingmylungsbeforethelife-preserverpoppedmetothesurface.
Thetasteofthesaltwasstronginmymouth,andIwasstranglingwiththeacridstuffinmythroatandlungs.
Butitwasthecoldthatwasmostdistressing.
IfeltthatIcouldsurvivebutafewminutes.
Peoplewerestrugglingandflounderinginthewateraboutme.
Icouldhearthemcryingouttooneanother.AndIheard,also,thesoundofoars.
Evidentlythestrangesteamboathadlowereditsboats.
AsthetimewentbyImarvelledthatIwasstillalive.
Ihadnosensationwhateverinmylowerlimbs,whileachillingnumbnesswaswrappingaboutmyheartandcreepingintoit.
Smallwaves,withspitefulfoamingcrests,continuallybrokeovermeandintomymouth,sendingmeoffintomorestranglingparoxysms.
Thenoisesgrewindistinct,thoughIheardafinalanddespairingchorusofscreamsinthedistance,andknewthattheMartinezhadgonedown.
Later,—howmuchlaterIhavenoknowledge,—Icametomyselfwithastartoffear.Iwasalone.
Icouldhearnocallsorcries—onlythesoundofthewaves,madeweirdlyhollowandreverberantbythefog.
Apanicinacrowd,whichpartakesofasortofcommunityofinterest,isnotsoterribleasapanicwhenoneisbyoneself;andsuchapanicInowsuffered.WhitherwasIdrifting?
Thered-facedmanhadsaidthatthetidewasebbingthroughtheGoldenGate.WasI,then,beingcarriedouttosea?
Andthelife-preserverinwhichIfloated?
Wasitnotliabletogotopiecesatanymoment?
Ihadheardofsuchthingsbeingmadeofpaperandhollowrusheswhichquicklybecamesaturatedandlostallbuoyancy.AndIcouldnotswimastroke.
AndIwasalone,floating,apparently,inthemidstofagreyprimordialvastness.
Iconfessthatamadnessseizedme,thatIshriekedaloudasthewomenhadshrieked,andbeatthewaterwithmynumbhands.
HowlongthislastedIhavenoconception,forablanknessintervened,ofwhichIremembernomorethanoneremembersoftroubledandpainfulsleep.
WhenIaroused,itwasasaftercenturiesoftime;andIsaw,almostabovemeandemergingfromthefog,thebowofavessel,andthreetriangularsails,eachshrewdlylappingtheotherandfilledwithwind.
Wherethebowcutthewatertherewasagreatfoamingandgurgling,andIseemeddirectlyinitspath.
Itriedtocryout,butwastooexhausted.
Thebowplungeddown,justmissingmeandsendingaswashofwaterclearovermyhead.
Thenthelong,blacksideofthevesselbeganslippingpast,sonearthatIcouldhavetoucheditwithmyhands.
Itriedtoreachit,inamadresolvetoclawintothewoodwithmynails,butmyarmswereheavyandlifeless.
AgainIstrovetocallout,butmadenosound.
Thesternofthevesselshotby,dropping,asitdidso,intoahollowbetweenthewaves;andIcaughtaglimpseofamanstandingatthewheel,andofanothermanwhoseemedtobedoinglittleelsethansmokeacigar.
Isawthesmokeissuingfromhislipsasheslowlyturnedhisheadandglancedoutoverthewaterinmydirection.
Itwasacareless,unpremeditatedglance,oneofthosehaphazardthingsmendowhentheyhavenoimmediatecalltodoanythinginparticular,butactbecausetheyarealiveandmustdosomething.
Butlifeanddeathwereinthatglance.Icouldseethevesselbeingswallowedupinthefog;Isawthebackofthemanatthewheel,andtheheadoftheothermanturning,slowlyturning,ashisgazestruckthewaterandcasuallyliftedalongittowardme.
Hisfaceworeanabsentexpression,asofdeepthought,andIbecameafraidthatifhiseyesdidlightuponmehewouldneverthelessnotseeme.
Buthiseyesdidlightuponme,andlookedsquarelyintomine;andhedidseeme,forhesprangtothewheel,thrustingtheothermanaside,andwhirleditroundandround,handoverhand,atthesametimeshoutingordersofsomesort.
Thevesselseemedtogooffatatangenttoitsformercourseandleaptalmostinstantlyfromviewintothefog.
Ifeltmyselfslippingintounconsciousness,andtriedwithallthepowerofmywilltofightabovethesuffocatingblanknessanddarknessthatwasrisingaroundme.
AlittlelaterIheardthestrokeofoars,growingnearerandnearer,andthecallsofaman.
WhenhewasverynearIheardhimcrying,invexedfashion,“Whyinhelldon’tyousingout?”
Thismeantme,Ithought,andthentheblanknessanddarknessroseoverme.
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