English
Iseemedswinginginamightyrhythmthroughorbitvastness.
Sparklingpointsoflightsplutteredandshotpastme.
Theywerestars,Iknew,andflaringcomets,thatpeopledmyflightamongthesuns.
AsIreachedthelimitofmyswingandpreparedtorushbackonthecounterswing,agreatgongstruckandthundered.
Foranimmeasurableperiod,lappedintheripplingofplacidcenturies,Ienjoyedandponderedmytremendousflight.
Butachangecameoverthefaceofthedream,foradreamItoldmyselfitmustbe.Myrhythmgrewshorterandshorter.
Iwasjerkedfromswingtocounterswingwithirritatinghaste.
Icouldscarcelycatchmybreath,sofiercelywasIimpelledthroughtheheavens.
Thegongthunderedmorefrequentlyandmorefuriously.
Igrewtoawaititwithanamelessdread.
ThenitseemedasthoughIwerebeingdraggedoverraspingsands,whiteandhotinthesun.
Thisgaveplacetoasenseofintolerableanguish.
Myskinwasscorchinginthetormentoffire.Thegongclangedandknelled.
Thesparklingpointsoflightflashedpastmeinaninterminablestream,asthoughthewholesiderealsystemweredroppingintothevoid.
Igasped,caughtmybreathpainfully,andopenedmyeyes.
Twomenwerekneelingbesideme,workingoverme.
Mymightyrhythmwastheliftandforwardplungeofashiponthesea.
Theterrificgongwasafrying-pan,hangingonthewall,thatrattledandclatteredwitheachleapoftheship.
Therasping,scorchingsandswereaman’shardhandschafingmynakedchest.
Isquirmedunderthepainofit,andhalfliftedmyhead.
Mychestwasrawandred,andIcouldseetinybloodglobulesstartingthroughthetornandinflamedcuticle.
“That’lldo,Yonson,”oneofthemensaid.“Carn’tyerseeyou’vebloomin’wellrubbedallthegent’sskinorf?”
ThemanaddressedasYonson,amanoftheheavyScandinaviantype,ceasedchafingme,andaroseawkwardlytohisfeet.
ThemanwhohadspokentohimwasclearlyaCockney,withthecleanlinesandweaklypretty,almosteffeminate,faceofthemanwhohasabsorbedthesoundofBowBellswithhismother’smilk.
Adraggledmuslincaponhisheadandadirtygunny-sackabouthisslimhipsproclaimedhimcookofthedecidedlydirtyship’sgalleyinwhichIfoundmyself.
“An’’owyerfeelin’now,sir?”heasked,withthesubservientsmirkwhichcomesonlyofgenerationsoftip-seekingancestors.
Forreply,Itwistedweaklyintoasittingposture,andwashelpedbyYonsontomyfeet.
Therattleandbangofthefrying-panwasgratinghorriblyonmynerves.Icouldnotcollectmythoughts.
Clutchingthewoodworkofthegalleyforsupport,—andIconfessthegreasewithwhichitwasscummedputmyteethonedge,—Ireachedacrossahotcooking-rangetotheoffendingutensil,unhookedit,andwedgeditsecurelyintothecoal-box.
Thecookgrinnedatmyexhibitionofnerves,andthrustintomyhandasteamingmugwithan“’Ere,this’lldoyergood.”
Itwasanauseousmess,—ship’scoffee,—buttheheatofitwasrevivifying.
BetweengulpsofthemoltenstuffIglanceddownatmyrawandbleedingchestandturnedtotheScandinavian.
“Thankyou,Mr.Yonson,”Isaid;“butdon’tyouthinkyourmeasureswereratherheroic?”
Itwasbecauseheunderstoodthereproofofmyaction,ratherthanofmywords,thathehelduphispalmforinspection.Itwasremarkablycalloused.
Ipassedmyhandoverthehornyprojections,andmyteethwentonedgeoncemorefromthehorribleraspingsensationproduced.
“MynameisJohnson,notYonson,”hesaid,inverygood,thoughslow,English,withnomorethanashadeofaccenttoit.
Therewasmildprotestinhispaleblueeyes,andwithalatimidfranknessandmanlinessthatquitewonmetohim.
“Thankyou,Mr.Johnson,”Icorrected,andreachedoutmyhandforhis.
Hehesitated,awkwardandbashful,shiftedhisweightfromonelegtotheother,thenblunderinglygrippedmyhandinaheartyshake.
“HaveyouanydryclothesImayputon?”Iaskedthecook.
“Yes,sir,”heanswered,withcheerfulalacrity.“I’llrundownan’tykealookovermykit,ifyou’venoobjections,sir,towearin’mythings.”
Hedivedoutofthegalleydoor,orglidedrather,withaswiftnessandsmoothnessofgaitthatstruckmeasbeingnotsomuchcat-likeasoily.
Infact,thisoiliness,orgreasiness,asIwaslatertolearn,wasprobablythemostsalientexpressionofhispersonality.
“AndwhereamI?”IaskedJohnson,whomItook,andrightly,tobeoneofthesailors.“Whatvesselisthis,andwhereisshebound?”
“OfftheFarallones,headingaboutsou-west,”heanswered,slowlyandmethodically,asthoughgropingforhisbestEnglish,andrigidlyobservingtheorderofmyqueries.
“TheschoonerGhost,boundseal-huntingtoJapan.”
“Andwhoisthecaptain?ImustseehimassoonasIamdressed.”
Johnsonlookedpuzzledandembarrassed.Hehesitatedwhilehegropedinhisvocabularyandframedacompleteanswer.
“Thecap’nisWolfLarsen,orsomencallhim.Ineverheardhisothername.Butyoubetterspeaksoftwithhim.Heismadthismorning.Themate—”
Buthedidnotfinish.Thecookhadglidedin.
“Betterslingyer’ookoutof’ere,Yonson,”hesaid.“Theoldman’llbewantin’yerondeck,an’thisayn’tnod’ytofallfoulof’im.”
Johnsonturnedobedientlytothedoor,atthesametime,overthecook’sshoulder,favouringmewithanamazinglysolemnandportentouswinkasthoughtoemphasizehisinterruptedremarkandtheneedformetobesoft-spokenwiththecaptain.
Hangingoverthecook’sarmwasalooseandcrumpledarrayofevil-lookingandsour-smellinggarments.
“Theywasputaw’ywet,sir,”hevouchsafedexplanation.“Butyou’ll’avetomakethemdotillIdryyoursoutbythefire.”
Clingingtothewoodwork,staggeringwiththerolloftheship,andaidedbythecook,Imanagedtoslipintoaroughwoollenundershirt.
Ontheinstantmyfleshwascreepingandcrawlingfromtheharshcontact.
Henoticedmyinvoluntarytwitchingandgrimacing,andsmirked:
“Ionly’opeyerdon’tever’avetogetusedtosuchasthatinthislife,’cosyou’vegotabloomin’softskin,thatyou’ave,morelikealydy’sthananyIknowof.
Iwasbloomin’wellsureyouwasagentlemanassoonasIseteyesonyer.”
Ihadtakenadisliketohimatfirst,andashehelpedtodressmethisdislikeincreased.
Therewassomethingrepulsiveabouthistouch.
Ishrankfromhishand;myfleshrevolted.
Andbetweenthisandthesmellsarisingfromvariouspotsboilingandbubblingonthegalleyfire,Iwasinhastetogetoutintothefreshair.
Further,therewastheneedofseeingthecaptainaboutwhatarrangementscouldbemadeforgettingmeashore.
Acheapcottonshirt,withfrayedcollarandabosomdiscolouredwithwhatItooktobeancientblood-stains,wasputonmeamidarunningandapologeticfireofcomment.
Apairofworkman’sbrogansencasedmyfeet,andfortrousersIwasfurnishedwithapairofpaleblue,washed-outoveralls,onelegofwhichwasfullyteninchesshorterthantheother.
TheabbreviatedleglookedasthoughthedevilhadthereclutchedfortheCockney’ssoulandmissedtheshadowforthesubstance.
“AndwhomhaveItothankforthiskindness?”
Iasked,whenIstoodcompletelyarrayed,atinyboy’scaponmyhead,andforcoatadirty,stripedcottonjacketwhichendedatthesmallofmybackandthesleevesofwhichreachedjustbelowmyelbows.
Thecookdrewhimselfupinasmuglyhumblefashion,adeprecatingsmirkonhisface.
OutofmyexperiencewithstewardsontheAtlanticlinersattheendofthevoyage,Icouldhaveswornhewaswaitingforhistip.
FrommyfullerknowledgeofthecreatureInowknowthattheposturewasunconscious.
Anhereditaryservility,nodoubt,wasresponsible.
“Mugridge,sir,”hefawned,hiseffeminatefeaturesrunningintoagreasysmile.“ThomasMugridge,sir,an’atyerservice.”
“Allright,Thomas,”Isaid.“Ishallnotforgetyou—whenmyclothesaredry.”
Asoftlightsuffusedhisfaceandhiseyesglistened,asthoughsomewhereinthedeepsofhisbeinghisancestorshadquickenedandstirredwithdimmemoriesoftipsreceivedinformerlives.
“Thankyou,sir,”hesaid,verygratefullyandveryhumblyindeed.
Preciselyinthewaythatthedoorslidback,heslidaside,andIsteppedoutondeck.
Iwasstillweakfrommyprolongedimmersion.
Apuffofwindcaughtme,—andIstaggeredacrossthemovingdecktoacornerofthecabin,towhichIclungforsupport.
Theschooner,heeledoverfaroutfromtheperpendicular,wasbowingandplungingintothelongPacificroll.
Ifshewereheadingsouth-westasJohnsonhadsaid,thewind,then,Icalculated,wasblowingnearlyfromthesouth.
Thefogwasgone,andinitsplacethesunsparkledcrisplyonthesurfaceofthewater,Iturnedtotheeast,whereIknewCaliforniamustlie,butcouldseenothingsavelow-lyingfog-banks—thesamefog,doubtless,thathadbroughtaboutthedisastertotheMartinezandplacedmeinmypresentsituation.
Tothenorth,andnotfaraway,agroupofnakedrocksthrustabovethesea,ononeofwhichIcoulddistinguishalighthouse.
Inthesouth-west,andalmostinourcourse,Isawthepyramidalloomofsomevessel’ssails.
Havingcompletedmysurveyofthehorizon,Iturnedtomymoreimmediatesurroundings.
MyfirstthoughtwasthatamanwhohadcomethroughacollisionandrubbedshoulderswithdeathmeritedmoreattentionthanIreceived.
Beyondasailoratthewheelwhostaredcuriouslyacrossthetopofthecabin,Iattractednonoticewhatever.
Everybodyseemedinterestedinwhatwasgoingonamidships.
There,onahatch,alargemanwaslyingonhisback.
Hewasfullyclothed,thoughhisshirtwasrippedopeninfront.
Nothingwastobeseenofhischest,however,foritwascoveredwithamassofblackhair,inappearancelikethefurrycoatofadog.
Hisfaceandneckwerehiddenbeneathablackbeard,intershotwithgrey,whichwouldhavebeenstiffandbushyhaditnotbeenlimpanddraggledanddrippingwithwater.
Hiseyeswereclosed,andhewasapparentlyunconscious;buthismouthwaswideopen,hisbreast,heavingasthoughfromsuffocationashelabourednoisilyforbreath.
Asailor,fromtimetotimeandquitemethodically,asamatterofroutine,droppedacanvasbucketintotheoceanattheendofarope,hauleditinhandunderhand,andsluiceditscontentsovertheprostrateman.
Pacingbackandforththelengthofthehatchwaysandsavagelychewingtheendofacigar,wasthemanwhosecasualglancehadrescuedmefromthesea.
Hisheightwasprobablyfivefeetteninches,ortenandahalf;butmyfirstimpression,orfeeloftheman,wasnotofthis,butofhisstrength.
Andyet,whilehewasofmassivebuild,withbroadshouldersanddeepchest,Icouldnotcharacterizehisstrengthasmassive.
Itwaswhatmightbetermedasinewy,knottystrength,ofthekindweascribetoleanandwirymen,butwhich,inhim,becauseofhisheavybuild,partookmoreoftheenlargedgorillaorder.
Notthatinappearanceheseemedintheleastgorilla-like.
WhatIamstrivingtoexpressisthisstrengthitself,moreasathingapartfromhisphysicalsemblance.
Itwasastrengthwearewonttoassociatewiththingsprimitive,withwildanimals,andthecreaturesweimagineourtree-dwellingprototypestohavebeen—astrengthsavage,ferocious,aliveinitself,theessenceoflifeinthatitisthepotencyofmotion,theelementalstuffitselfoutofwhichthemanyformsoflifehavebeenmoulded;inshort,thatwhichwrithesinthebodyofasnakewhentheheadiscutoff,andthesnake,asasnake,isdead,orwhichlingersintheshapelesslumpofturtle-meatandrecoilsandquiversfromtheprodofafinger.
SuchwastheimpressionofstrengthIgatheredfromthismanwhopacedupanddown.
Hewasfirmlyplantedonhislegs;hisfeetstruckthedecksquarelyandwithsurety;everymovementofamuscle,fromtheheaveoftheshoulderstothetighteningofthelipsaboutthecigar,wasdecisive,andseemedtocomeoutofastrengththatwasexcessiveandoverwhelming.
Infact,thoughthisstrengthpervadedeveryactionofhis,itseemedbuttheadvertisementofagreaterstrengththatlurkedwithin,thatlaydormantandnomorethanstirredfromtimetotime,butwhichmightarouse,atanymoment,terribleandcompelling,liketherageofalionorthewrathofastorm.
Thecookstuckhisheadoutofthegalleydoorandgrinnedencouraginglyatme,atthesametimejerkinghisthumbinthedirectionofthemanwhopacedupanddownbythehatchway.
ThusIwasgiventounderstandthathewasthecaptain,the“OldMan,”inthecook’svernacular,theindividualwhomImustinterviewandputtothetroubleofsomehowgettingmeashore.
Ihadhalfstartedforward,togetoverwithwhatIwascertainwouldbeastormyfiveminutes,whenamoreviolentsuffocatingparoxysmseizedtheunfortunatepersonwhowaslyingonhisback.
Hewrenchedandwrithedaboutconvulsively.
Thechin,withthedampblackbeard,pointedhigherintheairasthebackmusclesstiffenedandthechestswelledinanunconsciousandinstinctiveefforttogetmoreair.
Underthewhiskers,andallunseen,Iknewthattheskinwastakingonapurplishhue.
Thecaptain,orWolfLarsen,asmencalledhim,ceasedpacingandgazeddownatthedyingman.
Sofiercehadthisfinalstrugglebecomethatthesailorpausedintheactofflingingmorewateroverhimandstaredcuriously,thecanvasbucketpartlytiltedanddrippingitscontentstothedeck.
Thedyingmanbeatatattooonthehatchwithhisheels,straightenedouthislegs,andstiffenedinonegreattenseeffort,androlledhisheadfromsidetoside.
Thenthemusclesrelaxed,theheadstoppedrolling,andasigh,asofprofoundrelief,floatedupwardfromhislips.
Thejawdropped,theupperliplifted,andtworowsoftobacco-discolouredteethappeared.
Itseemedasthoughhisfeatureshadfrozenintoadiabolicalgrinattheworldhehadleftandoutwitted.
Thenamostsurprisingthingoccurred.Thecaptainbrokelooseuponthedeadmanlikeathunderclap.
Oathsrolledfromhislipsinacontinuousstream.
Andtheywerenotnamby-pambyoaths,ormereexpressionsofindecency.
Eachwordwasablasphemy,andthereweremanywords.
Theycrispedandcrackledlikeelectricsparks.
Ihadneverheardanythinglikeitinmylife,norcouldIhaveconceiveditpossible.
Withaturnforliteraryexpressionmyself,andapenchantforforciblefiguresandphrases,Iappreciated,asnootherlistener,Idaresay,thepeculiarvividnessandstrengthandabsoluteblasphemyofhismetaphors.
Thecauseofitall,asnearasIcouldmakeout,wasthattheman,whowasmate,hadgoneonadebauchbeforeleavingSanFrancisco,andthenhadthepoortastetodieatthebeginningofthevoyageandleaveWolfLarsenshort-handed.
Itshouldbeunnecessarytostate,atleasttomyfriends,thatIwasshocked.
Oathsandvilelanguageofanysorthadalwaysbeenrepellenttome.
Ifeltawiltingsensation,asinkingattheheart,and,Imightjustaswellsay,agiddiness.
Tome,deathhadalwaysbeeninvestedwithsolemnityanddignity.
Ithadbeenpeacefulinitsoccurrence,sacredinitsceremonial.
ButdeathinitsmoresordidandterribleaspectswasathingwithwhichIhadbeenunacquaintedtillnow.
AsIsay,whileIappreciatedthepoweroftheterrificdenunciationthatsweptoutofWolfLarsen’smouth,Iwasinexpressiblyshocked.
Thescorchingtorrentwasenoughtowitherthefaceofthecorpse.
Ishouldnothavebeensurprisedifthewetblackbeardhadfrizzledandcurledandflaredupinsmokeandflame.Butthedeadmanwasunconcerned.
Hecontinuedtogrinwithasardonichumour,withacynicalmockeryanddefiance.Hewasmasterofthesituation.
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