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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Bonadventure + A Random Journal of an Atlantic Holiday + +Author: Edmund Blunden + +Release Date: May 14, 2010 [EBook #32371] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BONADVENTURE *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.fadedpage.net + + + + + + +</pre> + +<h1>THE BONADVENTURE</h1> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c mb20'><span class='fs12'>THE WAGGONER</span><br /> +and other poems by<br /> +Edmund Blunden</p> + +<p class='c mb20'><span class='fs12'>JOHN CLARE</span><br /> +Poems chiefly from MSS.<br /> +selected and edited with<br /> +a biographical note by<br /> +Edmund Blunden<br /> +and<br /> +Alan Porter</p> + +<p class='c mb20'><span class='fs12'>THE SHEPHERD</span><br /> +and other poems of<br /> +Peace and War by<br /> +Edmund Blunden<br /> +awarded the<br /> +Hawthornden Prize, 1922<br /> +Third Edition</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<div class='titlepage'> +<p class='fs20 mb20'>THE<br /><span style='font-size:larger'>BONADVENTURE</span></p> + +<p class='fs16 i mb40'>A Random Journal of<br />an Atlantic Holiday</p> + +<p class='fs14 mb40'>By EDMUND BLUNDEN</p> + +<table class='c' summary='titlepage poem'> +<tr><td> +<p style='text-align:left;'>“There ships divide their wat’ry way,<br /> +And flocks of scaly monsters play;<br /> +There dwells the huge Leviathan,<br /> +And foams and sports in spite of man.”</p> +</td></tr><tr><td> +<p style='text-align:right'><i>Isaac Watts.</i></p> +</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class='mt120'>LONDON<br /> +RICHARD COBDEN-SANDERSON<br /> +17 THAVIES INN</p> +</div> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c i mb20'>Copyright 1922</p> + +<p class='c'><i>Printed in Great Britain by</i> Butler & Tanner, <i>Frome and London</i></p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p class='c'>To<br /> +<span style='font-size:larger'>H.W.M.</span><br /> +THIS<br /> +“ROUND TRIP”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p style='text-align:center; font-size:larger;'>AUTHOR’S NOTE</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7'></a>7</span>A few facts are perhaps needed in this place. The +autumn of 1921 found me in bad health, which +seemed to me to be gaining ground. The Editors +for whom it is my privilege to work were of that +mind too, and suggested a sea voyage. I am one +of that large class who can afford little more than +voyages in ships which are hauled over on chains; +but this was allowed for in every possible way by +my Editors, in consequence of whose active generosity +and that of the owners to whom my case was made +known, I suddenly found myself bound for the +River Plate. I can but say that when my friends +expressed their envy I was well able to understand +their feelings and my good luck.</p> + +<p>For the rest, this little book is not intended for +anything beyond the statement on the title page. +I am sorry myself that there are no adventures +of the blood-curdling sort in it; but I could not +go out of my way, nor do tramps find time, it seems, +for propitiating cannibals. Of unrehearsed effects +on voyages, indeed, my belief is that it is possible +sometimes to have too much. Eastward of Madagascar, +we read, lies Tromelin Island–a sandbank a +mile long. In 1761 the <i>Utile</i> was wrecked there, +and eighty blacks were left behind; all died except +seven of the women, who clung to life for fifteen +years, nourished on shell fish and brackish water, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8'></a>8</span> +until Captain Tromelin landed and saved them. +Now I cannot feel sorry that I was not one of that +party.</p> + +<p>There is, naturally, some slender disguise of names +and so forth through my journal. There may be, +it occurs, a S.S. <i>Bonadventure</i> at the present day; +if it is so, this is not the ship. My grateful recollections +of Captain Hosea, his officers and crew +apply to those gentlemen indeed, but they do not +sign on by the names which I have for this occasion +invented. Thus their own example leads me; +how much oftener was I hailed as “Skylark” and +“Jonah” than as</p> + +<p style='text-align:right'>EDMUND BLUNDEN.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p style='text-align:right; margin: .5em 8em 0 auto; font-variant:small-caps;'>London,</p> +<p style='text-align:right; margin: 0 2em 0 auto;'><i>December 23, 1921</i>.</p> +<p style='font-variant:small-caps; margin-bottom:1em;'>Dear Blunden,–</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9'></a>9</span>There you are, outward bound and southward +ho! Here am I, with the newsboys outside shouting +the latest imbecility to the murk, trying to get warm +and happy by considering a dull electric heater and +the faded memory of another ship (she went downstairs +in the war) which, years ago, on a December +morning, passed through the lock gates at Swansea +for Para and all, while I stood by her rail sorry for +the people who had not my luck. Now it is your +turn. Make the most of it. It will do something +to take away the taste of Stuff Trench. You will +find me, when you come home, still over the electric +stove listening to the newsboys. I shall call for +wine, and you must tell me all about the Fortunate +Isles. I am sure they are still there, and that you +will see them.</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p>O, a Cardiff ship sails down the river</p> +<p> (Blow, boys, blow!)</p> +<p>Her masts and yards they shine like silver</p> +<p> (Blow, my bully boys, blow!)</p> +</div> + +<p>Sing up, Blunden! And don’t forget to take soap, +towels and matches. Do you smoke a pipe? You’ll +wish presently you knew how to do it, if you have +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10'></a>10</span> +misspent your time and never learned. But I +suppose eighteenth-century literature and the baby +have absorbed all your energies. A pipe is only +fit for the idle-minded.</p> + +<p>There’s another thing. Don’t forget that the +ship’s master is a greater man than a colonel. You +know colonels, don’t you? (All right, all right!) +Well, make no mistake about it, master mariners, as +a rule, are different. It is long odds that your new +master will know his job. If you are nice to him, +he may even confess to a taste for your poetry; +ships’ masters are like pie, I have found, to little +lost children like ourselves who know nothing about +ships, but they are perfectly frightful towards those +who know all about ships, and know it all wrong.</p> + +<p>A happy Christmas and a lucky New Year.</p> + +<p style='text-align:right; margin: .5em 8em 0 auto;'>Yours ever,</p> +<p style='text-align:right; margin: 0 2em 0 auto;'>H. M. TOMLINSON.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11'></a>11</span><a id='link_1'></a>I</h2> + +<p>On the eleventh of January my uncertainty was +ended by the apparition (and in the village of Staizley +it is no less) of a girl with a telegram. Her walk +of three miles or thereabouts, from our nearest +telegraph office, brought her to my gate at three in +the afternoon; and with her customary awed speechlessness +she gave me her message. It was from +“Kingfisher,” the decoded entity of which was +the great shipping owner to whom I owed my arrangements; +and in response I hastily attempted to +leave a semblance of order behind me and to seem +unexcited. My luggage, no cumbrous affair, had +already been packed. By six, the trap of an ingenious +neighbour, who lives by all sorts of traps, was heard +at the gate, and Mary and myself got in. Determined +protest, not at my departure, but at the apparent +departure of her mother, was now raised by the +youngest among us. My comforting promises were +ignored, and the infant’s cries redoubled. Nevertheless, +off we went.</p> + +<p>The evening had been pouring out, with the +vigour of an elemental Whistler, sleet and hail, +and now though the wind was down our drive +lay through fields half whitened with the storm; +and the air was livid with the clouded moon and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12'></a>12</span> +as cold as the ebbing light. With its multitude +of pollards, its desolate great fields, its chilling +breaths, the countryside might have been Flanders. +This aspect seemed incidentally to demonstrate +the wisdom of going elsewhere for a month or +two.</p> + +<p>We now came into Slowe, discussing all the time +our past, present and future; the chief result of +the discussion was the placing of my unanswered +letters at Mary’s disposal. The town of Slowe was +at peace. Its station wore the familiar air of +having nothing to do with the coarse noise of traffic. +Here Mary spent some moments in melancholy +visions of my funeral at sea. She hoped these were +wrong, and I, beginning to be affected also, hoped +so equally.</p> + +<p>“Good-bye” to Mary! The curve of the track +carried her out of sight, and, imagining with resolution +that the carriage was comfortably warm, I resigned +myself to the journey to Liverpool Street. By way +of passing the time, I fell back upon my habit of +considering how the Latin poets might render the +words, upon which few Englishmen have not been +reared:</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p>“The use of this rack for heavy and bulky packages....”</p> +</div> + +<p>But though the sentiment which they convey is +salutary, and though such metrical gifts as “graviora” +and “viatores” instantly suggested themselves, the +task once again defeated me.</p> + +<p>Some such deadening pastime (Tennyson advises +it) was necessary. There are many stations between +Slowe and Liverpool Street, and the train, the last +of the day between those places, stopped at each +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13'></a>13</span> +one. Arrived in London, and shivering with cold, +I sought out my relations; reported with a certain +amount of pride, which evoked no corresponding +admiration at such a late hour, my impending +voyage, and was rewarded with a bed.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14'></a>14</span><a id='link_2'></a>II</h2> + +<p>My instructions were to present myself next morning, +without fail, at the shipping offices of Messrs. Wright, +Style and Storey, in Cardiff. Mary’s double accordingly +hurried me through my breakfast and led the +way to Paddington. I urged myself to realize that +I was going upon holiday; but, it cannot be withheld, +the thought of this particular pleasure had a +serious tinge. Paddington itself, to such an islander +as I am, had some of the credit of this. To me, that +large terminus is, as a jumping-off position, less +human than, for example, Victoria. From Paddington, +with its Western propaganda, it may well +seem that humanity is travelling out into the round +world’s imagined corners; but Victoria, with its +lesser range in sight, leaves a quieter speculation. +From Brighton there is no such press of mammoth +liners? Even when the destination was the B.E.F., +it was comforting to me to set out from Victoria, +whence the way led through a compact, placid, +formerly uninternational, still un-Atlantic quarter. +A Society for the Suppression of Astronomers has +been mooted by the lazy-minded. I am not sure +that geographers should not be included. Distances, +no doubt, are as essential to romance as to Copley +Fielding’s water-colours; but they can rouse in some +of us troubling thoughts, which, summed up, say +“Leave us alone!” Such thoughts had disturbed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15'></a>15</span> +me when, with farewells from Bess, I retired to the +sporting columns of my newspaper, and the train +moved out.</p> + +<p>In compensation for my experience of the previous +evening, the journey went quickly by. A sunny +morning, blue and still, lit up the country. So fine +was the day, and the country, with its ancient timber, +its mole-hilled pastures, its feeding horses and cheerful +rooks, appeared so mellow, that the wisdom of +leaving it behind was not so conspicuous as, the +night before, it had been. Cardiff. I knew nothing +about it, except as “Cardiff.” I entrusted myself, +therefore, to a taxi-driver, who claimed to know +more, even to the whereabouts of the shipping office +to which I was bound. After meanderings and +advice from the police and the public, he made +amends for his inaccuracy by setting me down at +the foot of a gloomy staircase leading to the rooms +of Messrs. Wright, Style and Storey.</p> + +<p>And now for a few moments I was in trouble. +Thinking that the telegram which warranted my +calling at this Cardiff office of the London Company +would best explain my intrusion, I handed it over the +fateful counter. The clerk took it, assumed a serious +air, avoided looking at me, and referred to a superior. +I was puzzled. More so, the superior. A murderer, +concerned in the atrocity at Bournemouth, was at +that time untraced, and I fancy that the official had +the mystery in his mind at this point. At any rate, +eyeing the wire with doubt for some time, he suddenly +advanced towards me and put the question, in stern +accents: “Who are you?”</p> + +<p>Who are you?</p> + +<p>I feel sure that my explanation was unbusinesslike, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16'></a>16</span> +but he presently divined the truth. Word of my movement +had not been sent him from London. He withdrew +to the telephone or time-table; then restoring +to me my sibylline leaf, told me to go to Barry Docks, +where I should find the <i>Bonadventure</i>, recognizable +by a white S painted on the funnel, lying at Tip +Eleven or Twelve, and to go aboard and report +myself to the captain. I went, fearing lest the captain +likewise might know as little in advance about the +trembling suspect before him.</p> + +<p>Urchins scrambled for my luggage at the Barry +Docks Station, an hour or so later, and the two victors +hurried it along to Tip Eleven. These coal-tips overhead +and the shipping alongside, with knots of workmen +passing masked in coal-dust, engaged my mind as +we went, and before I was fully aware of it we were +aboard a vessel which the boys recognized as the <i>Bonadventure</i>. +I paid the carriers, who went away at +speed, and asked a wooden-faced seaman, who seemed +to be alone, where I could find the captain. He at +once cut short my search by the tone in which he +observed, “The captain! He’s having his dinner +at the present.” I was rebuked, and stood by. (I had +still to witness the multitudes who want to find the +captain of a ship in port.)</p> + +<p>I took a look at the ship, but felt lost as I did so. +She was large, and of vague shape. I could not determine +where she began and where she left off. A pall of +coal covered everything. Heaps of cinders, which a +casual glance described as of some seniority, lay against +the deck railing. I saw hut-like structures about me +where I stood, amidships, as the boys had said; but I +feared to explore. At times some one with a plate or +a jug was seen stooping swiftly through their doorways–evidence +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17'></a>17</span> +indeed of the captain’s dinner-hour. +Inaction, nevertheless, grew unpromising; and at last +I asked an officer, as I rightly thought him, who had +come out to keep an eye on several blasphemous and +strongly individual beings with large spades, whether +I might see the captain. When he heard my business, +he quickly took me to him. I found myself speaking +to a quiet, smiling, and enviably robust man who, to +my relief, was not mystified by my arrival. He set me +at my ease, told me that I should sign on as a member +of the crew to-morrow, and allowed me to stay on the +ship meanwhile. I was glad of this, being weary of +quests for the time being.</p> + +<p>Not quite at home, as may be gathered, I went out on +deck, and watched the tips in action; admired the +mimic thunder–first the abrupt and rending, shattering +crash, then the antistrophe of continued rollings–which +each truckful of coal makes as it is tumbled into +the shoot and thereby into the ship’s holds. Truck +after truck was drawn up, the pin knocked away from +the end board and the coal hurled, its dusky clouds +fuming out, into the ship: its atmosphere did not seem +to strain or irritate the breathing organs of those +worthies with the spades, and the pipes, whose vague +labouring silhouettes enlivened the gloom. Engines +plied constantly beside the docks with long trains of +coal. As if expressing itself, one emitted a peculiar +twofold groan. All this, of course, ancient history, but +I was new to it. It seemed like the beginnings of +wisdom.</p> + +<p>But the world of iron and smoke could not warm my +body as well as it did my mind, and while I was +brooding over the increasing bite in the air of that +January afternoon, the officer whom I was to know +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18'></a>18</span> +soon as the mate, a young man of clear-cut features and +tranquil manner, told me to make use of the saloon. +I sat there reading, when another introduction took +place. The steward, a weighty old man remarkable +at first sight for his brown skull-cap, came in to say he +had fitted me up with a cabin. Following him up a +staircase, I took over this dugout-like dwelling with no +small satisfaction. It was to be my home, he said, for +three or four months on this South American run. I +unpacked, and washed away the unearned, and +unsuspected, film of coal-dust which was to characterize +my home for the same length of time.</p> + +<p>Tea came, and I was mildly puzzled again, when the +steward’s assistant asked me to choose between a +bloater, cold meat, and so on. I was deciding on +something slenderer, when I realized that tea included +supper, and applied for a kipper. The captain’s wife +kept conversation alive. The topic, I remember, was +the lamented custom which once permitted captains’ +wives to make “the round trip” with their husbands.</p> + +<p>The coal still rattled into the holds every moment +or two, and the same process was going on all round +us. The water was bright in the moon, and the +reflections of the lamps fastened high over the ships +swum like golden serpents in the ripples. In such a +light, to such a watcher, there seemed no end to the +serried framework and the cordage to the giant sea +travellers of steel. The constant clanging and whistling +and crash spoke to the work of the machines, an +occasional shout to the guiding energies of the men.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19'></a>19</span><a id='link_3'></a>III</h2> + +<p>The shipping office itself left no clear impression +upon me, the next morning, when I attended the +business of signing on; but the visit gave me my +first view of the crew of the <i>Bonadventure</i>, which was +welcome. Many of them were coloured men, as +ever, dressed in eye-catching smartness. I reflected +on the extent to which the market of boots of two +colours must depend on these firemen. Among the +others, a Cornishman of odd automatic gait, whose +small head balanced a squarish black hat, moved about +with an inconsequence suggestive of some clever +comedian. He gave, however, no evidence of humorous +abilities. The wooden-faced man, to whom I +have referred, answered the call of “Cook.” Sitting +on the bench in the corner, I felt a curious stare +upon me, and looking across the room, saw its owner, +a tough customer by the expression he wore. For +some peculiarity of conduct, this sailor was the +next evening removed from the <i>Bonadventure</i> by +the police, with no passive resistance, as I vaguely +heard. The police recovered.</p> + +<p>Two youths sat by me, their good nature showing +itself in their talk. They painted my near future. +The heat we should soon be feeling, 130 in the shade; +the troubled Biscay, where “seven seas meet, which +causes a great upheaval,” chequered the vista. +The function of crossing the Line was described as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20'></a>20</span> +bygone, even in its less inconvenient traditions, such +as giving the greenhorn binoculars through which a +(hair) “Line” was plain enough.</p> + +<p>My name was called, and I went to the front. +The captain conferred with the clerk. For technical +purposes, as I supposed, I was put down “purser.” +The rank was given, but not the talents.</p> + +<p>Now, the hour of the <i>Bonadventure’s</i> sailing being +imminent, the ship’s officers who had been away +were returning. The chief engineer, obviously regarded +as a wise man; the second mate, full of stories; +the wireless operator, youthful and brilliantined, +appeared at the cabin table. The captain’s wife +drew up matrimonial plans for the third mate, who +was not beyond blushing over his late tea–the not +impossible, but improbable, She was evidently a +recognized memory of Hamburg. The captain was +striving to get at the facts when a doctor came in, +summoned to see an apprentice; and he left his +meal to hear the diagnosis. Reappearing, he said, +“The only bit of luck we’ve had. The boy’s got +appendicitis.” This was not euphemism; what +might have happened had the ship left before the +boy’s illness was known for what it was, both to +boy and authorities, he went on to hint. This +piece of recognition was due to the mate.</p> + +<p>We were not leaving that evening, though loading +ceased. I walked into Barry, and found its cinematograph +programme somewhat worse than is the +average. This, and the change of the weather +from keen to mizzling, persuaded me back to my +cabin for the rest of the evening; and after the +night’s rest, broken sometimes by sounds of “mighty +workings,” I looked through my porthole to discover +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21'></a>21</span> +that the ship had left the tips. She was now lying, +under a cloudy, showery sky, well out to the middle +of the water, and the buildings round the Docks +Station, dwarfed somewhat by the large sign of +“WARD, BUTCHER,” were in sight. We should +soon be away.</p> + +<p>The solidity of ship’s breakfast was an early fact +among those I was gleaning. Yesterday, an ample +steak, with potatoes–and onions–had been set +before me, after the preparatory porridge; this +day, two tough sausages, with potatoes–and onions–were +provided. Yet I fell to with an appetite, +and only hoped I should feel as able in the days to +come.</p> + +<p>The inert morning seemed suited to the curious +quiet of the ship. That quiet was, however, disturbed +in undertone. The incessant tramp of feet +and sometimes the banging of gear were echoing. +The final period, in the main “all serene,” could +not be without its thousand and one adjustments; +though the holds, trimmed, I suppose, even to the +steward’s satisfaction–he had been in high choler +the night before at the attempted delivery of meat +to a store just made inaccessible by the delivery of +coal–now were covered with tarpaulins. I had +time to meditate, and the cold air recommended my +cabin as the place.</p> + +<p>To the Plate and back again, in a cargo ship! +(To the Somme and back again–that had seemed less +surprising.) The voyage, no doubt, would be more +arduous than that in the leave-boat from Boulogne +to Folkestone. Would my resolution be equal to +the greater strain on the system? I suspected that +the first few days might find me groaning within +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22'></a>22</span> +myself; asking why I had left my draughty study, +which was at least stationary? what I had found +amiss with the array of books for review–pleasant, +unjustly despised labour? Landlord, insurance +agent, general dealer, rags-and-bones, watch-and +clock-repairer, bricklayer come to fix the chimney, +carpenter to take measurements for far-off bookshelves, +secretary of football for subscriptions, and +many another familiar–in the middle of an attempt +to answer the question, “What is Poetry?”–should +I be considering them as unhonoured privileges? +Repent, repent.</p> + +<p>From the mild exercise, and a book, I was aroused +by the brown skull-cap of the steward, who in some +pain of feature uttered round the door a solemn +“Well, I declare!” I had disregarded his bell–Jim +had rung it; he had rung it–for dinner.</p> + +<p>There were friendly visitors afterwards. I was +wished a good voyage, and a better room–one +more artistic, I think, was in the speaker’s mind. +But comfort was cordially anticipated. The ship +was not one of the older sort that roll. The captain, +too, said that his ship did not roll. The shore +captain grinned, but said nothing, except that, if I +had been over to France, I should find the voyage +just the same. It was the captain’s turn to grin. +Next, the second mate came, book in hand, and +entered the name of my next-of-kin.</p> + +<p>During the afternoon the funnel of the <i>Bonadventure</i> +had sent forth smoke, and the hooter, +hoots; the cold increased, and, having heard that +we were to go out at about six, for all my apprehensions +I felt eager for that hour. The surroundings +were gloomy. The <i>Bonadventure</i> lay in a row +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23'></a>23</span> +of coal-carrying steamers, with something grim +about their iron flatness; the <i>Phryne</i>, <i>Marie Nielsen</i>, +<i>Sandvik</i>, many another, their cold colours reminding +me of the huge blue-painted unexploded shell which +once I ventured to help remove from a trench at +Givenchy. The grey-green pool swilled sulkily about +them: and the red bricks in the background offered +no relief to an unprogressive eye. Sooty, hard and +bleak, the scene itself urged my impatience to be +gone.</p> + +<p>A call announced the arrival of the pilot; and, +at ten minutes to six, in obedience to a process of +which I gathered little, the ship began to move +gently out of the dock. The shouts of the pilot on +the bridge, his “Hard-a-port,” his “Hard-a-starboard,” +were taken up from the forepart of the ship, +where a number of substantial figures were at work +with winch and cable. The <i>Bonadventure</i> was guided +with nice gradation into a channel not much exceeding +her own width; on the quay beside men were shouting +and scampering; the wireless clerk leaning +over against all gravity grabbed a bag of “mail” +from one of them; and out we passed. The wind +livened. The lights of the town slowly dwindled +behind us. Into the channel close after the <i>Bonadventure</i> +came the green lamp of another ship. Soon +the <i>Bonadventure</i> was definitely, at a growing speed, +running down the Bristol Channel, under a veiled +sky through which the moon always seemed about +to emerge, and among the scattered lights of other +ships going into Barry, or waiting in readiness to go +in.</p> + +<p>The thing had never occurred to me before, and +I may be pardoned for reflecting, while I stood +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24'></a>24</span> +watching, in a manner somewhat grandiose. The +energy of Man, maker of cathedrals, high-roads, +aqueducts, railroads, was passing before me; and +this one manifestation of it seemed perhaps the +most surprising. The millions of times that this +restless creature Man had weighed his anchor and in +cockle-shell or galleon or clipper or tramp set out to +ferry over the seas at his own sweet will! This +matter was now put in a more prosaic light by the +wireless clerk, who, beckoning me to a place out of +the wind, informed me that at a charge he could, +as soon as the <i>Bonadventure</i> was out of touch of +land, transmit any message I had for home. With +this youngster I tried to speak on his own province, +in which I had made some elementary excursions in +Flanders times: but this intrusion upon his mysteries +appeared to affect him, and I learned only that the +modern wireless was different.</p> + +<p>The doleful tolling of a bell, later on, with its +suggestion of the Inchcape Rock, reached me in +my bunk, where, noticing the oscillations of the ship, +I had early withdrawn.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25'></a>25</span><a id='link_4'></a>IV</h2> + +<p>My theory of repentance during the first few days +at sea was to be fact. At the start, I seemed to +myself to be perfectly steady. The breeze blew +cold; I thought it even pleasant; and without +over-exercise, I took my last views of English coasts, +and watched ships ahead of us blackly smudging a +vaporous sky. I attended dinner, and began to swell +with vanity.</p> + +<p>By this time the ship was rolling (after all yesterday’s +kind assurances). There was no mistake about +it: and my vanity and observation were at once +cut short by a surprise attack of sea-sickness. A +dismal cowardice came on me. The wind seemed +changing, or perhaps–I inquired but little–the course +of the ship; the effect needed no inquiry. Time +and again, lowering my <i>morale</i> at each arrival, the +seas beat in a great crash upon the ship’s sides, and, +with the attendant tilt, the scarcely less welcome +seethe of the waters flowing down the decks would +follow. The ship seemed to be provided with cogs, +on which she was raised and lowered with horrible +deliberate jolts over a half-circle: then again, the +big wave would jump in with a punch like some +giant Fitzsimmons. My experience was growing. +The sunshine died off the porthole; the breeze was +half a gale already, droning and whining louder and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26'></a>26</span> +louder; and I felt that my breaking-in was to be +thorough enough.</p> + +<p>Captain Hosea found time, now and then, to look +at his passenger. We kept up eloquent discourse, +though I was handicapped. The origin of species +and the riddle of the universe are topics on which +much enlivening debate may occur, and certainly +did then; but the floor of the debating society +should be made steady and not to lift and lean and +recover with a monstrous jerk as a point is being +approached. “It’s fierce,” said he, referring to +the idea of infinite abyss. I could agree from the +smaller one which I myself seemed to be probing.</p> + +<p>Sleep was not easy during these early hours of my +holiday. I spent an awkward night or two, listening +to rattlings of all sorts, the battering-ram shocks +of the seas, and the thump of the engines, watching +the sweat on the rivets of my roof roll like the bubble +in a spirit-level, and my towel float out to an apparent +unperpendicular side to side. In this state of things +I easily came to know the features of my cabin, +described on the door-key as “spare cabin port.” +Amidships it was, between the wireless operator’s +premises and the captain’s. The porthole faced the +poop, and more immediately, the ship’s squat funnel. +Beneath the porthole, a padded seat was fixed; +and I had on one length of the room a disused radiator, +a chest of drawers and a washstand with mirror, where, +despite a ventilator above, light rarely seemed to +come. On the opposite length there was a tall +malodorous cupboard and two bunk beds, of which +I chose the lower one from sound instinct at the +beginning, keeping to it from force of habit afterwards. +Such was my dwelling; but I must not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27'></a>27</span> +fail to mention the electric light and fan. The place +was painted white, but its past use as a store had +variegated it.</p> + +<p>The steward likewise visited me here, and sympathized. +The old fellow talked to me much as if +I had known him all my life; he being known well +enough, indeed, to the company for whom he was +going to sea in his old age. A scarred nose distinguished +him for a time. He complained, with a sort +of personal visualization of the sea’s boorishness, that +while attending to some stores he had been blown off +a case into a barrel of flour.</p> + +<p>Having therefore spent the best part of my first +two days at sea in my cabin, which offered no great +variety in itself, I was much pleased to find myself +able to arise, manfully, the third day. But I avoided +breakfast. The morning looked inviting, the black +funnel gleaming even richly in the sun, so presently +I took the air. First, I had found some difficulty in +shaving, even with a safety razor; but it was accomplished.</p> + +<p>We were still in the Bay of Biscay, and the <i>Bonadventure</i> +had not done lurching and wallowing. To +my naïve eye, the sea was in considerable commotion. +Like ever-changing rocky coasts, the horizon rose and +fell. As unsteady as that, the day left behind its +sunny comfort and brought clouds and chillier air. I +saw the navigators passing on their business, but I +could not emulate their equipoise; I attached myself +to a rail or fixture to watch them, this one coiling a +rope, that trailing a coco-nut mat in the sea–a capital +cleanser; to watch the gulls also, so easily keeping +up with the plunging brows, amid all their side-shows +of wheeling and darting flights. Inured, I presently +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28'></a>28</span> +joined in at dinner in the saloon; ate, and had no +serious trouble. A framework, which was described as +a “fiddle,” covered the table and checked the more +mobile crockery; but it could not prevent an accident +in the steward’s own department, which caused his +tone of private feud with Neptune to sound clearly in +the apostrophe, “Break ’em all, then, so we shall have +none for the fine weather.” But fine weather was +expected now.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29'></a>29</span><a id='link_5'></a>V</h2> + +<p>My prospect brightened with the weather. “Things +are looking bad,” observed the chief engineer with +an anxious glance at me. “Why?” I said more +anxiously. “There’s three teaspoons missing,” he +answered, satisfied at having played his joke. The +morning, though the wind blew hard against us, was +sunny and cheerful; the light blue sky flying here and +there the streamer of a shining cloud, the moon going +down ahead of us, the drove of gulls still pleasing +themselves in glistening whims of flight among the +waves. Warmer it was, but not yet warm enough +for me: and going out on the deck I often sheltered +behind the cabins with fingers as of old turning waxen +for want of blood. I found the ancient sea a new +pleasure in its aspects: I liked to see the wave-tops +suddenly become crystalline with a clear green glow. +Such a greenness immediately associated itself with, +and, I even thought, comprehended, the curious +emanation of the old mermaid stories. It is a light +wherein the sudden arising of a supernatural might +seem natural.</p> + +<p>Aboard, less remote interests revealed themselves. +The cook, that lean aproned figure, walked slowly +between the stores and his stronghold the galley, +carrying perhaps a couple of large onions; and the +smell of cooking might rise above that of the Atlantic. +The tawny firemen emptied their buckets of cinders +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30'></a>30</span> +in long series through the iron chute over the side; +or found, by request, work for an oilcan round the +funnel. Everything said, in its manner, “No blind +hurry, no delay.”</p> + +<p>Hosea invited me to his ampler room for daily +conversations over the friendly glass; we talked +much, but not about the sea. His active mind, +after searching through the files of recent newspapers +saved up during his stay in port, had many an opinion +on affairs less adjacent; and he had a curious miscellany +of reading at his service. Sir Edwin Arnold +was one of his few poets, and for him he spoke out +most generously. Here I was obliged to watch my +behaviour. As a person engaged in literature, I +could not precisely admit the ignorance of the <i>Light +of Asia</i> which I have always enjoyed; and I wished +I had read it. The conversation should have run +upon the sharks, the hula hula, typhoon and the submarine +barrage, by rights; not upon the history in +blank verse of the founder of Buddhism. It was some +relief to find Hosea turning to Tennyson, whose +works he had upon his desk. Shakespeare, he said, +he had been advised by old captains to leave alone +until he had turned forty.</p> + +<p>From his book cupboard he lent me several books, +of which I only failed to master one. This was <i>The +Lone Star Ranger</i>, by Zane Grey; a fiction in which +beauty was reached through blood, but not in this +world. Far more romantic was a large official treatise +styled <i>North Atlantic Directory</i>, reading which, I +determined never again to leave any book about ships +and the sea in the threepenny tub.</p> + +<p>Meals, the important thing in the trenches, began +to impress me as furnishing the incidents of seafaring +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31'></a>31</span> +life. They seldom came too soon. Their atmosphere +puzzled me in a minor way, until I was acclimatized to +the habits of the saloon. Little would be said at +them for a long time; then some one would quietly +mention some occurrence of technical bearings in +the first place, and so educed, a few anecdotes would +follow. Phillips, the chief engineer, with his seasoned +air and dry ironical ease of speech, was perhaps the +narrator of the saloon. I remember his first tale +that I heard: it was simple, yet picturesque. “Once +we were running in the banana trade. We went to +Labrador for some fish. The captain was putting +in to Cape Sidney, and he didn’t like the look of some +of the lights. So he went down to the bottle and +got blotto. The second mate–a little Greek, he was–was +on the bridge, and he found the captain was +blotto, and he’d never been to Cape Sidney before, +and he was worried out of his wits. So he came +down and asked me what he should do. ‘I can’t +tell you,’ I said. ‘But if I were you, I should +bring her round in circles outside here until daylight +comes.’ And there he stayed, steering round in circles +all night.”</p> + +<p>The ship was reckoned, by those in higher authority, +to do ten knots to the hour, but for a week or so her +average was no more than eight. This circumstance +was never far away from our table-talk. The playful +interrogative “Ten?” would welcome Phillips +to his place at dinner, as the second mate handed +him the slip giving the results of the midday observations.</p> + +<p>As the ship’s officers and the sailors became better +used to me, and I to them, my voyage began to assume +its intended holiday character. The southward +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32'></a>32</span> +progress of the <i>Bonadventure</i>, disappoint her chief +engineer as she might, was felt in the improving +weather; and as sea weather was still a new world +to me, I was never for long without some variation of +amusement. The colours of the rainbow in the waves +leaping up at the ship’s side and in the veils of spray +that they flung to the whisking wind were soon reflecting +themselves in my remembrance. On dark blue +ridge of surly water and on snowy coronal, the broken +arc of the rainbow was for ever flickering, just beyond +the uncertain shadow of the ship. The lively wind, +meanwhile, as if by a sudden stronger impulse, would +whirl the green toppling seas over the lower deck, +and the light cold spray as high as the bridge. Here, +I thought, was a lyric indeed; and so, it looked, +thought the gulls that disported about the ships, +and the shoals that, I fancied, like those of any +small stream, would be up to enjoy the sun.</p> + +<p>Swabbing was going on aboard at a great pace. +The boatswain, a sort of combined walrus and +carpenter, seldom allowed his swabbers and his +hosepipe to rest. The flow of dirty water from the +cabin roofs made the deck dangerous ground. So +perish all accumulated dust! The <i>Bonadventure</i> +began to look clean, even resplendent.</p> + +<p>When Hosea joined the merchant service, he tells +me, old hands would often make a disparaging comment +upon the decline of sailing days. “I’m giving +up going to sea. I’m going in steamers.” True, in +the very names of the old sails, up to their skyscrapers +and their moonrakers, there lingers yet the elemental +dignity of the earlier sort of argosy. Even the same +metaphorical fountain of description seems to have +ceased to flow with the falling asleep of the famous +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33'></a>33</span> +clippers: and I doubt whether the author of <i>London +River</i>, that rich reverie, kindred with an essay which +has weathered a hundred years’ storms–Charles +Lamb’s <i>South-Sea House</i>–would write of the sea +to-day in his translucent classical revivings:</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p>“The model of this Russian ship was as memorable as a Greek statue.”</p> +</div> + +<p>And yet, once or twice already, I was indistinctly +aware of an antique look about the ship forward, +with her dark beak and all her shrouds and spars +and winches; as I watched her at twilight ploughing +a grey sea and still driving afield towards a horizon +of sad vapours, braided with the sunset’s waning red, +and, from time to time until darkness settled, creviced +with a primrose gleam, calm, clear and sweet amid its +shadows.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34'></a>34</span><a id='link_6'></a>VI</h2> + +<p>A swell running in its long undulations accompanied +us until we had passed Madeira, beyond its horizons. +Mugs of tea slid suddenly and swiftly across the saloon +table; complaints were made at every meal, and +the mate hinted, with dreadful implications for my +benefit, that a special memorandum would be presented +to Father Neptune, expected on board shortly. +Other hints of the passenger’s future trials were made. +We were bound for the Plate, but we might be sent +thence to Australia. That addition, as a possibility, +to my holiday perturbed me somewhat; I envisaged +the bailiffs in at home before I got back.</p> + +<p>The second mate, Bicker, and the third mate, +Mead, invited me to see their observations and their +watches. Bicker, a fine audacious spirit, dark-haired, +dark-eyed, four-or-five-and-twenty years old, +had my company in the afternoon, the days being +warm and inviting. The typical scene below the +bridge was of Mead in his singlet rigging up a line, +whereon towels, socks and other properties were +soon in the sun; while mattresses aired over the +cargo-hatch tarpaulin. Other toil at this hour, +save that of the engines and the man at the wheel, +was not noticeable. The boatswain and his wrinkled +party, who actually did leave a sea-salt impression +in their stocking-turbans and greasy rags and roomy +sea-boots, had left the midships white, and had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35'></a>35</span> +changed their ground for hose and scrubber to the +neighbourhood of the engines and the galley; but +the afternoons heard them not. An occasional +whistle from the bridge would summon hurrying feet +up the ladder; the striking of the bell made Time’s +pace perceived. Bicker would sometimes interrupt +his large stories to show me, or to try to show me, +remote or tiny curiosities floating past the ship. +Perhaps a shoal of young porpoises bobbing along +portended a slight squall, its approach yielding those +ever remarkable lights that mark broken rain, lily-of-the-valley +green, and on the waters a silver glitter, +while a shadow drooped over all. The third mate’s +drying-ground was speedily cleared at these times.</p> + +<p>Mead’s watch occupied the four hours before noon, +and the four before midnight. At noon he would +join with Bicker in “Shooting old Sol,” a process +which, with its turning-up of pages packed with +figures, reminded me of old trouble in a famous +mathematical school of severe traditions, where hung +on the walls a symbolic picture–a youth swimming +for dear life from a gigantic shark. In the evening +I would find Mead on the bridge, uttering to himself +as likely as not his talismanic motto: <i>Quo Fata +Vocant</i>. He was a rover; from China he had gone +to Australia to join the Army in 1914; thence had +seen Gallipoli, Egypt, and, I believe, Palestine; went +into the Navy with a commission after that; and +now had returned to the life in which he had been +apprenticed a dozen years before. As these evening +colloquies with Mead became a rule with me, and as +it was Mead whom I came to know better than anyone +else, other matters relating to him will be found in +their places.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36'></a>36</span>There was no lack of good spirits aboard. Reminiscences +of a humorous tinge came up in almost every +conversation; and conversation was an earnest and +frequent affair. Indeed, there was observable a +certain rivalry (as with those who supply the fashionable +memoirs of the past twenty or thirty years), +who should remember the most: and each speaker +showed a vigorous faith in his own tale, which he +scarcely extended to his predecessor’s. The mate, +the clear-headed Meacock, with his blunt serenity–embodying +qualities in which I could not help seeing +the English seaman of the centuries–was eloquent +one evening about examiners. Examinations lie +thick in the navigator’s early way. He recalled one +well-known figure of these inquisitions, who, at a +time when no dinner interval was allowed to the candidates, +used to bring out frying-pan, steak and the +rest, and tantalize every one by cooking himself his +dinner. (I wondered if this suggestion might be +passed on to the Universities.) Another original, +Meacock went on, warming himself with the recollection, +had a preference for ordinary, that is seafaring, +words.</p> + +<p><i>Examiner.</i> If I carry this barometer up a +mountain, what happens?</p> + +<p><i>Candidate.</i> The mercury in the barometer subsides.</p> + +<p><i>Examiner (purple with disgust).</i> You silly idiot, if +you were sitting on a table and I knocked you off, +would <i>you</i> subside?</p> + +<p>Bicker was about to put in a reminiscence of his at +this point, but Meacock was already giving another +instance of this examiner’s zeal for pure English.</p> + +<p><i>Examiner (producing a piece of wood).</i> What +colour’s this?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37'></a>37</span><i>Candidate.</i> Chocolate.</p> + +<p><i>Examiner (purple once more).</i> Chocolate! Chocolate +be dam’d. Chocolate’s something to eat–What +<span class='sc'>COLOUR</span> is it?</p> + +<p>The chief engineer, seeing me somewhat handicapped +by temperament from wandering about as +inquisitively as I ought to have done, came up one +afternoon to take me into “<i>his</i> little slice of the ship.” +I am sorry to think how vague my imagination and +how inactive my gratitude had been up to that first +descent down the iron stairways and crossings to the +engine-room. The stifling air and the throbbing +roar, of course, kept my notions vague, but the degree +of vagueness was not so disgraceful as it had been. +He pointed out all things to one comprehending +scarcely anything, except a chalk legend on the wall +which ran:</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p>Aston Villa</p> +<p>Celtic</p> +<p>Manchester U,</p> +</div> + +<p>and so on, which I noticed for myself. The ruling +passion–(passion at the referee’s ruling, says the +cynic).</p> + +<p>I was aware, meanwhile, of vast steel rods and arms +in violent motion, named severally by the chief in a +mighty voice, which nevertheless was too much of a +whisper for me. The gangways round them, it was +easier to learn, were narrow and greasy. The cool +skill with which an engineer was anointing these +whirling forms, his hand dapping mothlike with the +tapering can above them, was enough to amaze me. +Under a strange construction like a kiln, by way of +a low red door, we went into the vault where the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38'></a>38</span> +dusky, glowing and actually grinning firemen were +tending the furnaces. (It happens all day, every +day in thousands of ships!) Above, we had +looked in at a dark hole–I rightly thought, over +the boilers–and breathed for a moment a most +parching element, so that the heat of the stokehold +did not frighten me. The chief introduced me to +the third engineer, Williams–we roared out cordially; +and then he inducted me to the mysteries aft, where, +along the shaft which revolves the propeller, a specially +greasy passage runs. Here, as throughout this +cavernous region–I remembered Hedge Street +Tunnels, which to the initiated will be a sufficient +allusion–might not E. A. Poe, to-day, have set a +story to rival the <i>Cask of Amontillado</i>? I suggested +it to the chief, but he saw no adventurous, unusual +quality in his tunnel. Right aft appeared a long +vertical ladder, ascending to a manhole–a safety +appliance, he explained it, of the war, but to me it +resembled a danger appliance.</p> + +<p>Having gone as far as we could, we turned back to +the engine-room. I was now accustomed enough to +notice that the sultry air of the place was occasionally +tempered by a draught of the cooler kind. But I found +it hard to realize how man could tolerate surroundings +so trying as these in order to earn a wage which in +a comfortable employment would be nothing out of +the way. I pictured myself as an engineer on a +steamer. I feared that, in time, the approach of +each watch of four hours down among the machinery, +fume, sweat and thunder would become a formidable +problem. “Use” no doubt explained the nonchalance +of pallid Williams as he groped with his slush-lamp +to his work. But I thought of the war, when, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39'></a>39</span> +after a while, useful “use” began to desert the +soldier and to leave him on tenterhooks worse than +the apprehensions of the unused.</p> + +<p>We were climbing upstairs again–up from the +underworld of battle headquarters?</p> + +<p>I had appreciated the handful of cotton waste which +the chief had given me at the first: and now went +off to read poems. The man to whom this “divelish +yron yngine”–if I do not misquote Spenser–is given +for control (and is controlled), returned to his outstanding +labour–that of filing part of a curious +patent electric torch which the captain had asked him +to restore to life.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40'></a>40</span><a id='link_7'></a>VII</h2> + +<p>The <i>Bonadventure</i> entered the tropics, calm, hot, +blue expanse. I do not know why, but our passing +into that zone was for me contemporary with an +access of wild and vivid dreams. These were odd +enough to cause me to record what remained of +them in the morning, and as they still seem prominent +in my recollections of my sea-going, I make a note of +some of them. Now, it was no other than the great +Lord Byron, pursuing me with a knife, applauded +by two ladies. The basis of actuality, at least, was +there. Now I was taking my way along weedy rivers, +which at first were the innocent shallow streams I +once met and knew in Kent. But as the dream +progressed a Byronic change came over it; and these +streams grew more and more foul with weeds and +grotesque in stagnation, until I realized as if with an +awakening that they were full of tremendous fish, +pike perhaps, often perch, and hybrids of many +colours and streakings. These fish lay watching, +stretched from one bank to the other; their number, +my loneliness, their immensity, my fixity conspired +to frighten me unspeakably.</p> + +<p>At other times the river was in flood, and I, as before, +compelled by the secret of the matter to walk along +its towpath, in danger of its torrents; the path itself +became unknown, or lay between two huge channels +choking with muddy torrents. Ever expecting the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41'></a>41</span> +worst, I was suddenly at an ancient mill, watching</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p>Slow Lethe without coil,</p> +<p>Softly, like a stream of oil</p> +</div> + +<p>gliding under the footbridge. This was sickly +phantasm, the very waters breathing decay. The +scene swiftly changed. Paddington! and you, dear +old friend C., racing with me across the metals to +catch a train, and― Then C. is in his grave again, +and I am in a trap outside my old home; a stranger +stands in the road, cuts his throat; I look on, smile, +and shudder, for he races after the trap with his +knife; but I outstare his Malayan eyes, and he +gives up the chase. By way of respite, I now walked +at leisure into a bookshop, and my hand fell upon +rarities indeed. <i>The Church</i>, by Leigh Hunt–I had +never seen that before! “We don’t have much time +for dinner,” said the bookseller, and I took the hint +and went out.</p> + +<p>And there were other familiar scenes in this phase +of nightly alienation. On occasion, though I awoke +several times from a haunting, I fell asleep again to +return to it. Half-nonsense as these dreams were, +there was a persistent force about them. Here was +the battalion, expecting to be attacked. Its nerves, +and mine, were restive. The attack broke out farther +up the line, and we got off with a reaction almost +as unwelcome as a battle. Or I was in a town behind +the line, into which a number of very small round +gas-shells were falling; then, in the cattle-truck +for the front; presently, in the wild scenery of great +hills and deep curving ravines which I seemed to +know so well. (The entrenched ridges in the unnatural +light of the flares looked monstrous once.) I was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42'></a>42</span> +company commander; we were to be relieved; and, +God, what had I done? Begun to bring my men +out before the other crowd had come up! The mound +would be lost, I should be “for it.” The company +must be halted in the open; and so we waited for +the relief. It never came.</p> + +<p>Still the dreams came: the war continued. S. S. +was with me, walking up a big cobbled road, muddy +as ever, towards the front. On every side lay +exhausted men, not caring whether they were in the +mud or not. I was not quite sure, but was not this +Poperinghe Station? At that station was–I hope +is–an hotel, bearing the legend, “Bifsteck à Toute +Heure”; was this gaudy-looking place, perhaps, +the same? At all events, S. S. said, “Let’s go and +have a port.” We did, and the drink appears to have +gone to my head, for I now found myself alone, +walking across a large common or pasture. Here +Mary and another woman went by, but I could not +at the moment recognize them. There, beyond the +common with its dry tussocks, stood a town, flanked +by mountains, which I knew to be–Barry. A +cathedral or abbey of white stone rose in gigantic +strength into the sunlight. This place, I soliloquized, +so near the line, and yet not shelled! But I was not +to escape. I proceeded. The screen alongside was +blown down. Better slink along these hedges at the +double! It was the support line. Some large +splinter-proof dugouts came into sight, and some +officers, who told me about an attack. We were +going over. I recognized my destined end.</p> + +<p>However, I woke up alive, having again suffered +more from fear and the atmosphere of it–in projection–in +a few seconds, than I was ever conscious +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43'></a>43</span> +of suffering in a day of the actual war. With weary +and aching head, whether these fantasies were to +blame or not, I looked out to ask the wireless expert +if there had been a storm in the night. He grinned, +and going farther I saw outside a sea of pale glow +not a great deal more disturbed than a looking-glass.</p> + +<p>The ashen whiteness soon gave place to a deep +blue, and our entry into the tropics became plainer +and plainer, the sea fluttering with the sun’s blaze. +This was unfamiliar also, to be roasting on the water +in January. The pith-helmet season began. The +third mate could not claim a pith helmet, but he +displayed what none of the others could, as he sat +washing on the step of the alleyway–a marvellous +red and blue serpent tattooed on his arm, by the +very Chinaman, he said, who had tattooed King +George. It was, I still think, a superfine serpent.</p> + +<p>Washing, or “dobing,” was not Mead’s sole recreation. +Literature, and even poetry, with limitations, +had its power over him. Suspecting me of critical +curiosity about his favourite poets, he directly +approached the matter. Rudyard Kipling and “A +Sentimental Bloke” were satisfactory, but he couldn’t +bear the others who gave their views on love. +Lawrence Hope had done one or two good things–but +the rest, as Keats, Ella Wheeler Wilcox, and +so forth, might as well be cut out. His approval of +Kipling was confirmed by Meacock’s saying in the +saloon, where books and authors were a favourite +pabulum, “H’m–the third mate seems to be getting +very interested in Kipling. He brought me a paper +with all he could remember of <i>IF</i> written out on it, +and asked me if I could supply any of the rest.”</p> + +<p>This literary halo aroused Bicker, who was already +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44'></a>44</span> +known to me as the ship’s poet, and had unfortunately +left his MSS. at home. He now urged his claims. +“The gardener called me Poet when I was about seven +or eight, and I often get called that now.” The +chief, chuckling, brought off his little joke. “I +suppose that’s what drove you to sea.”</p> + +<p>In connection, no doubt, with poetry, that strange +device, the mate looked back to a ship in which he +once served, and which was chartered to carry the +largest whale ever caught in Japanese waters to +New York for the New York Museum. By whale, +he said he meant the skeleton, of course; but it +had been sketchily cleaned, “and when we got her +to New York,” he said with a comical frown, “nobody +could get near the hatches”: and, finding the sequence +easy, he added that there was often some peculiar +cargo on that New York-Hong Kong run–take +for instance those rows of dead Chinamen in the +’tween-deck homeward bound.</p> + +<p>The face of the sky often held me delighted. There +is nothing, I think, of dullness about this world’s +weather; and its hues and tones may still be a sufficient +testing theme for the greatest artists with pen or +pencil. To express the sunset uprising of clouds, +many of them in semblance of towering ships under +full sail, many more like creatures mistily seen in +endless pastures, was an attempt in which my own +vocabulary scarcely lasted a moment. One evening, +the nonpareil of its race, especially “burned the +mind.”</p> + +<p>At first the blue temple was hung with plumes of +cloud, golden feathers. When these at last were +grey, a rosy flush swiftly came along them, like a +thought, and passed. It seemed as though the night +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45'></a>45</span> +had come, when the loitering tinges of the rose in +a few seconds grew unutterably red, and the spectacle +was that of an aerial lattice or trellis among the +clouds, overgrown with the heavenly original of all +roses. “In Xanadu―” From brightness the +amassed cloud-bloom still increased to brightness: +then suddenly the flames turned to ember. Even now +again a ghost of themselves glowed, until all was gone, +and Sirius entered upon his tenancy of another glory, +and Orion and Canopus, casting a hoar-frost glimmer +ahead of the riding ship.</p> + +<p>Hosea agreed this was a remarkable sunset; then +took me off to the friendly tot and talk in his room. +He loved to discuss all sorts of theory in art and +religion, of which he might have been, with a slight +change of circumstance in his boyhood, a student +and enthusiast: meanwhile, the sailor in him would +be rummaging through the makings of a curiosity +shop which crowded his official desk, besides the manifests +and ship’s articles–his watches, knives, coins +and notes of twenty countries, photographs of +friends all over the world.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46'></a>46</span><a id='link_8'></a>VIII</h2> + +<p>The flying-fishes could have dispensed with the +<i>Bonadventure</i>. During the night, sixteen or so had +come aboard, to be seized by the apprentices for +breakfast; I saw with surprise how one had been +driven and wedged between the steam-pipes. In +looks, when they were out of their element, despite +their large mild eyes, their long “wings” closed +into a sort of spur, being light spines webbed with a +filmy skin, despite too the purple-blue glowing from +the dark back, they did not seem remarkable. But +under the hot and shining morning, where the <i>Bonadventure’s</i> +sheering bows alarmed the shoals into +flight, they were seen more justly. In ones and twos +and crescents and troops they skimmed away, sometimes +with their dark backs and white undersides +appearing as fishes, sometimes in the sun nothing +more than volleys of light-curved silvery darts. +They turned in the air at sharp angles without +apparently losing their speed, which was such that +often one heard the water hiss as they entered it +again.</p> + +<p>The morning that they first came in numbers, it +happened that the salt fish for breakfast was relieved +by reminiscences.</p> + +<p>“You reminded me of Captain Shank just now, +chief.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed–why?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47'></a>47</span>“When you ran your hand along the table for +the treacle.... He used to think the treacle was +put aboard for him. He told the second mate off +for eating too much of it–said it wasn’t really for +his use. After that we all began to eat the stuff like +blazes.”</p> + +<p>“You must have had some funny captains in this +line.”</p> + +<p>“He was. He’d come up sometimes on the bridge +and sit down in the wheel and start making noises +to himself. He’d sit there with his old chin drooping +and say, ’... I knew it.... Haw, haw.... +The silly old b―.... Bless my soul....’ for +twenty minutes. I’d go away from the wheel for +fear of laughing out–and then he’d go somewhere +else and do it.”</p> + +<p>“Davy Jones got him at the finish, didn’t he?”</p> + +<p>“–And a dam’d fine ship too.”</p> + +<p>“It was her maiden trip.”</p> + +<p>“What happened to her?”</p> + +<p>“Ran ashore.”</p> + +<p>“Both the boats capsized.”</p> + +<p>“She had the most valuable cargo I ever heard of.” +A pause.</p> + +<p>“Old Shank used to ask for it, though. Once in +the Gulf of Mexico he was down below, and the ship +was on the course he’d given. (He never used to +take any notice of deviation.) The second mate +heard breakers, you could hear them quite plain, +and not very far off; so he turns the ship a little, and +goes down to tell Shank. Old Shank jumped up +and stormed and stamped, and rushed up on the +bridge roaring, ’<i>Am I to be taught after forty-eight +years at sea by a set of b― schoolboys?</i>’ and had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48'></a>48</span> +her put back to the old course again. And then he +walked off. You could hear him snapping his teeth. +Presently he stopped. You could see the breakers +now, the phosphorescence of them. ’<i>What’s that?</i>’ +he whipped out, ’<i>What’s that?</i> My God.’”</p> + +<p>“He was one of the white-haired boys in the +office, what’s more.”</p> + +<p>“His officers saved him.”</p> + +<p>“Well, one night he gave me a course, and the +last thing he said to me on the bridge was, ‘It’s up to +you to keep her there.’ I soon found we were going +to fall on land, and I changed the course. And as +it was, we passed three-quarters of a mile inside the +lightship. I went down to his room and told him. +‘Why, you damn’d fool,’ he started off; he nearly went +mad. ‘But I’ve hauled her out,’ I said, ‘I hauled her +out.’ And then he yelled, ‘Changed her course +without orders, did you?’ and so on.”</p> + +<p>“Well, the office made a pet of him. Some people +get away with it.”</p> + +<p>“After my trip with him, the whole crew refused +to sail with him again. And the mate went up to +Shields to join a new ship. And when he got there, +he found Shank had joined her as skipper!”</p> + +<p>We came into the Doldrums, and I felt none too +well. “Cold, worse; heat, worse,” became my +diary’s keynote. The steward also complained of a +persistent cold. Six bottles–six–of his own medicine +since we left Barry had not cured him. This +notable Cardiff Irishman was always pleased to +answer questions about this cold of his, and they +became suspiciously frequent. Then his solemn face +would grow still more solemn, his voice of office +would take on a pleasing melancholy, and he would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49'></a>49</span> +shake his grey head with dolorous realizations. +Nevertheless, his stores being just below my cabin, +I grew accustomed to his morning rejuvenate roarings +from the threshold at the avarice of the modern +sailor. It seemed that at such times he was momentarily +free of his illness.</p> + +<p>He, nevertheless, at present, added his good word to +the general approval of the cook. The bread was +universally admired, the pea-soup also. This popularity +did not cause any alteration in the melancholy +orientalism of its deserver. He looked forth from +his galley with the same wooden countenance. He +was the thinnest man I think I ever saw.</p> + +<p>His macaroni, however, appeared to fall under a +general taboo. It was “eschewed.” Bicker, the +most assiduous tale-teller, seized it as the chance for +describing an old shipmate’s misfortune. It was in +Italy: “He was keen on seeing all the sights, so we +asked him if he’d seen the macaroni plantation. He +said he’d like to. We told him to take the tram out +of the town and walk on another mile or so, when +he’d see the trees with macaroni growing on them +like lace–natural lace. And he went. But the best +of it was that he’d sent a card home the day before +to say, ‘To-morrow I am going to see the macaroni +plantation.’” This, which if true was stranger than +fiction, elicited recollections of fool’s-errands in the +shipyards (“Run and get a capful of nailholes,” +“Ask the storekeeper for a brass hook and a long +stay”), which kept us at table until the steward +groaned aloud.</p> + +<p>I led a lazy life. There was not much reason for +being active. My afternoon walk might reach as +far as the fo’c’sle, in which lay a kindly miscellany +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50'></a>50</span> +of wire, hemp and manila ropes in coils, and an aroma +of paint and tar was never absent. The heat, however, +seemed intenser in this house than in the open. +Clouds and a little rain soon vanished, and the sea +was one long flame towards the sun. White uniforms +were in vogue. For me, the half-closed eye, with a +flying-fish or two sometimes glittering to awake its +notice, in any corner out of the sun, was an occupation. +The unfortunate boatswain and his men were +chipping paint, clanging and banging in the heat; or +I would see him perching on the bulwarks directing +some aerial operation, and a sailor seated in the +“bosun’s chair” being hauled up the mast. They +rested from Saturday noon until Monday morning. +Now, more than ever, the lot of the engineers and +firemen seemed unacceptable. The blaze, the fierce +blue sea, and a flagging breeze became a routine now. +The rains of the Doldrums were not much in evidence; +a short shower, flying over the clay-coloured water, +might come towards evening.</p> + +<p>Incidents were few. The sight of the flying-fishes +still starting up and skimming, veering and spurting +into a safe distance from the intruder, was no longer +one for my absorbed watch. I woke up, heavy-headed, +one morning to find that Meacock had suspended +one of these poor creatures from my roof; +there he hung swaying in the little breeze that there +was, in parched and doleful manner, and ever and +anon turning upon me, who felt much in his condition, +his mild and magnificent eye. I threw him out with +sympathy. At night the boobies shrieked round the +lights on the masts, and appeared at morning flying +over the water. Once the sleep of the just was +broken by profane language and scuffling in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51'></a>51</span> +passage outside–a rat hunt. Boat drill took its +turn one afternoon, the siren summoning all hands +available to their posts. I was questioned about +Colonel Lawrence, at intervals, having seen him in +the flesh; and the publisher of his <i>Life</i> was expected +to be named by me. I said that I believed he himself +would write his Memoirs. But this was not the +thing. A book about him by some one who knew +how to paint the lily and improve on possibility was +what was sought. I think I could design a satisfactory +coloured cover.</p> + +<p>The morning bucket was a transient happiness. +To disturb the “gradual dusky veil” now unescapable, +since the bunkers were now chiefly filled +with coal-dust, was not too simple in a limited space, +with limited hot water. My porthole, looking over +those fuming bunkers, had to be shut at all hours. +According to everybody, the <i>Bonadventure</i> was “a +dirty ship”; although it seemed unlikely that a +carrier of coal by thousands of tons should be clean.</p> + +<p>She at least began to please the chief with his +coveted “Ten knots”; and at dinner on the seventeenth +day out, he asked whether anyone had seen +a disturbance in the water. The old gentleman was +expected. I was sorry that he did not come, after +all, with his “baptism,” shave, and medicine (and +I believe other rites), when at about four in the +afternoon the <i>Bonadventure</i> crossed the Equator; +but old customs can scarcely be eternal. The +steward’s cough mixture was the only medicine I +got that day. Neptuneless, the ship furrowed a +sea almost silent, and evening came on tranquilly +among woolpacks of warm-kindled colouring.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52'></a>52</span><a id='link_9'></a>IX</h2> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p>Mary, what news?–</p> +<p> The lands, as I suppose,</p> +<p>Are drenched with sleet or drifted up with snows,</p> +<p>The east wind strips the slates and starves the blood,</p> +<p>Or thaws and rains make life a sea of mud.</p> +<p>You close each door, draw armchairs nigh the fire,</p> +<p>But draughts sneak in and make you draw ’em nigher–</p> +<p>No matter: still they come: play parlour gales</p> +<p>And whisk about their hyperboreal tails;</p> +<p>Bed’s the one hope, and scarcely tried before</p> +<p>Next morning’s postman thunders at the door.</p> +<p> </p> +<p>Meanwhile–if I may gently hint–I wear</p> +<p>But scanty clothes, though all the sun will bear;</p> +<p>A red-hot sun smiles on a hot blue sea</p> +<p>And leaves my bunk to laziness and me:</p> +<p>I read, until a lethargy ensues,</p> +<p>Tales of detectives frowning over clues</p> +<p>And last month’s papers; then the strain’s too strong,</p> +<p>Man wants but little, nor that little long,</p> +<p>The deck-chair in the shadow now appeals,</p> +<p>Until the next hash-hammer rings to meals.</p> +<p> </p> +<p>But not alone in climate may I claim</p> +<p>Advantage; while you feel the slings of fame,</p> +<p>Beset at all hours by the shapes of those</p> +<p>Who volunteer your wants to diagnose,</p> +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53'></a>53</span>Who come with merchandise and go with cheques;</p> +<p>No licensed interrupter haunts these decks,</p> +<p>No vans of wares along these highways clatter.</p> +<p>None urges to insure, buy broom or platter.</p> +<p>There is no sheaf of letters every day,</p> +<p>Regretting, and so forth: no minstrel’s lay:</p> +<p>Proofs, none: reminders, none–while daily you,</p> +<p>Poor creature, tear your hair and struggle through,</p> +<p>And darken paper till you light the lamps,</p> +<p>And the last shilling disappears in stamps.</p> +<p> </p> +<p>Nor weightier cares you lack, it is decreed;</p> +<p>The clock won’t go, the chickens will not feed,</p> +<p>The pump, always a huffy ancient, swears,</p> +<p>“Water? if you wants water, try elsewheres”:</p> +<p>The infant wonder, she who must inquire,</p> +<p>Investigates herself into the fire,</p> +<p>The playful snowball whizzes through the pane,</p> +<p>In brief, you try to kick the cat: in vain.</p> +<p>Here no such troubles blot the almanac</p> +<p>For me; no day is marked with red or black:</p> +<p>Events–eventicles–are few, as these,</p> +<p>The sighted school of bobbing porpoises,</p> +<p>The flying-fish when first I saw them leap</p> +<p>And flash like swallows over the blue deep;</p> +<p>The rose-red sunset, or the Sunday duff,</p> +<p>Or–but enumeration cries “Enough.”</p> +<p> </p> +<p>There is no Mary in the Atlantic, true,</p> +<p>Nor cellared bookshop to be foraged through.</p> +<p>But as I said, at least I’ve found the sun</p> +<p>And idle times–even this will soon be done;</p> +<p>A corner where no rags-and-bones apply,</p> +<p>Nor postman comes, nor poultry droop and die.</p> +</div> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54'></a>54</span><a id='link_10'></a>X</h2> + +<p>The South-East Trade was blowing fresh next day, +if a damp clammy rush of hot air deserves the term. +The threatened heavy rains of the Doldrums had not +come; the heavy heat subdued talk at table. Cloud +and sultry steamy haze had hung about us during +the morning; at two or thereabouts the first land +seen by the <i>Bonadventure</i> since her first day’s stubborn +entry into the English Channel came into view. +My view was at first none at all; but encouraged by +Bicker and with his glasses I could make out the +island of Fernando Noronha, twenty miles away to +the south-east. A tall peak and the high ground +about it for a space gave the illusion of some great +cathedral, a Mont St. Michel seen by Cotman faintly +forthshadowed; then, the willing fancy rebuked, I +discerned its low coasts of rock, inhospitable and mist-haunted.</p> + +<p>This singular crag breaking out of the +mid-ocean, I knew, was a convict settlement. “Life +sentences” were safely mewed up here. At length +we were abeam of this melancholy place, while the +sun seemed to make a show of its white prison camp, +at a distance of twelve or thirteen miles. It would +have been hard not to imagine the despair of men +condemned to such a prison. The peak’s stern +finger might have struck with awe the first navigators +to approach it. To see the immutable pillar in every +sunset and at every sunrise, surveying all the drudgery, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55'></a>55</span> +the emblem of perpetual soullessness, must be +an unnerving punishment. The constant processions +of ships, to whom Fernando Noronha is a welcome +mark, with their smoke vanishing swiftly to north or +south, could scarcely tantalize more?</p> + +<p>The rough overhanging pinnacle faded again, and +evening fell. Leaning with the third mate over the +bridge canvas, while the moon, now waxing, riding +through the frontiers of a black cloud, cast a dim +avenue over the sea, and from other dishevelled +clouds a few quiet drops came down, was a most +peaceful luxury. About the bows the water was lit +up by sudden flashes gone too soon. These travelling +lights–akin to the gem of the glow-worm seen close–were, +according to Mead, the Portugee men-of-war +which I had seen by day. No name could be less +descriptive. These small creatures, at night living +lamps of green, by day with their glassy red and blue +like the floating petals of some sea-rose, were worthy +of some gentler imagist. When, Mead said, you +take them from the water, they are nothing but a +little slime; evanescent as the rainbow on the +spray.</p> + +<p>Splendour and fiery heat marked the day still. I +had discarded jacket and socks, enjoying the soothing +gush of air about the ankles; otherwise even reading +was made unprofitable by the drug-like heat. The +same sky and seascape, the same condemnations of +“a dirty ship” recurred day by day. “The worst +ship I ever sailed on, mister. You turn in washed +and you wake up black.” The bath was still an +enjoyable interlude, despite mechanical drawbacks. +The bath proper was out of order, owing tosome +deficiency of the water-pipes. At one end, in substitution, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56'></a>56</span> +you lodged your bucket in a board with a +hole in it. At the other end a crossbar offered the +bather a seat. Much splashing transferred the water +from the bucket to your coal-dust surface; while, +there being little air in the bathroom, you breathed +sparingly. Yet how well off was the acrobat with +his sponge, compared with the fireman who just then +was taking bucket after bucket of ashes from the +stokehold hoist and tipping them overboard–a job +that was never done until the engines rested in port; +that punctuated our progress, as did the morning +hosepipe on the cabins and the bridge deck.</p> + +<p>Not much was said of the country to which we were +going. Englishmen were definitely unpopular there, +said some one; English sailors, on the slightest pretext, +taken off by the police to the “calaboosh.” “You +only want to look like an Englishman.” “Well, +what about trying to look like a German?” The +chief engineer rarely missed a chance to rub in his +politics, and he jumped at this one–“Doesn’t the +same thing apply at home?”–with eager irony.</p> + +<p>Ships were discussed and compared at almost +every meal. Some, luxurious.</p> + +<p>“But that yacht she was pretty, there’s no getting +away from it.”</p> + +<p>“That was <i>my</i> yacht.”</p> + +<p>“They must employ quite a lot of shore labour to +keep these yachts from looking like ships.”</p> + +<p>“Well, they couldn’t very well make them look +like standard ships, if they wanted to.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’ know–get the second mate and the +chief to co-operate–saw off the funnel halfway, and +throw a few ashes about the decks.”</p> + +<p>Some, ideal.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57'></a>57</span>“She looked just like the model of a ship–and +she was spotless.”</p> + +<p>Some, not what they ought to be.</p> + +<p>“I looked and saw her name, <i>The Duke of York</i>. +I thought to myself, I’ll write to him and tell him +about the state of his namesake. She looked like a +wreck.”</p> + +<p>Some, again, like the <i>Bonadventure</i>, standard ships, +the hasty replacements of submarine wastage. The +criticism here, of course, had the severity of domestic +familiarity.</p> + +<p>“They have these ships made in one piece at the +shipyard. When they want one, they just cut off a +length, and join the ends.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I say the man who designed this ship ought +to have designed another and pegged out.”</p> + +<p>“Mister, she’s a dirty ship.”</p> + +<p>I detected–it was not difficult–a vague prejudice +against wireless. The wireless operator was foolish +enough to have at his fingers’ ends all the tabular +details of shipping companies and their vessels, and +to display this dry knowledge in the middle of his +seniors’ recollections. His seafaring experience, it +may be mentioned, was altogether recent, and among +the elders he would have done better <i>not</i> to know. +It was of course impersonally aired, this prejudice +against wireless. First, there was the view that as +ships had hitherto, beginning with the Ark, gone to +sea without the invention, they could continue to do +so. Then, the fact that wireless might save life +admitted, the system current was decried. It seemed +that the merchant ships of over 1,600 tons carried +wireless operators and sets, but that one operator +to a ship was the allowance; now one operator +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58'></a>58</span> +watched eight hours out of the twenty-four, and all +were off duty at the same time. So it was believed. +“There’s nothing in the Bible,” the critic would +urge, “to say a ship mustn’t be wrecked when all +the operators are off duty.”</p> + +<p>I had expected music–chanteys, or at least +accordions–aboard a merchantman; but very little +was that expectation justified. There had been a +gramophone (and step-dancing), but it was out of +action after one evening’s protracted use. It was +not often, yet, that I had heard even a whistled +scrap; occasionally the coloured firemen would sing +in falsetto.</p> + +<p>An epidemic of hair-cutting broke out. Every +time I saw the process going on, the artist was a +fresh one; and I was inclined to think that we are a +nation of hair-cutters. Among the practitioners, the +cook, with his usual severe expression, plied a neat pair +of scissors. It was a scene which reminded me of old +trench life. I thought of a close support trench +opposite Auchy, about the month of June, 1916, +where a sickly programme of sniping by field guns, +rifle grenades, “pineapples,” and incredible escapes +from them did not prevent my being shorn by the +steadiest of amateurs. With what outward intrepidity +I sat there!</p> + +<p>At the captain’s request, the cook advanced to cut +his hair. That done, he cut mine. Venturing to +talk, I was soon exchanging sallies of the British +Expeditionary Force, for he had been thereof, a +tunneller. Of his being in a countermined shaft at +the wrong moment at Vimy, and his luck in being +dragged out by the sergeant-major, he gave some +details; but the first evident attack of mirth to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59'></a>59</span> +which I had ever seen him give way came as he mused +over rations supplied by the French for a fortnight +at St. Quentin under some temporary arrangement. +“Wine, beans, and b― horseflesh,” he said, +<i>staccato</i>, and with a dry laugh like the rattling of +beans. “First we’d all get bound up and then +we’d all get diarrhœa. Oh, it was the hell of a go.” +“There,” he said, leaving a little tuft over my forehead, +“you’ll still be able to have a couple of quiffs +there.”</p> + +<p>He was not only cook and hairdresser off duty, I +found: he was given to sketching portraits. I went +once or twice to talk with him in the galley, where +the heat was enough to make the famous Lambert +himself turn thin. And his work, he pointed out, +was continuous, with his assistant’s services; he had +to put up double meals to suit the watches. “But +why do I stick it?” he said, taking a batch of bread +from the oven and standing it on end against the +others. “A man can stick shore jobs all right when +there’s five mouths depending on him. There’s not +a lot of shore jobs now.”</p> + +<p>His drawings were done in the little corner where +he and his mate had their bunks. They were pictures +of ladies and seamen of his acquaintance; crude, +with lips of a bitter redness, and cheeks faintly pink, +staring and disproportioned, yet done with such +pains, such strivings after “likeness,” that when he +requested me to help him to a post as artist to <i>The +Times</i>, I much wished that I could! I had no sooner +made the acquaintance of the cook’s portraits than a +poem was bashfully brought to me by its author, +Bicker. I must say that, although his lines had +occasionally been eked out with last resorts, there +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60'></a>60</span> +was a heartiness about them which I liked; and, +going down presently to his cabin, I got him to show +me more. He had already written several rhyming +epistles during the trip, which with the retiring instinct +of poets he had left to blush unseen. So we +had aboard among a crew of forty or so a painter of +portraits and a writer of verse.</p> + +<p>We had our philosopher too, Phillips, the chief +engineer, veteran of Khartoum, master of machinery, +physician less active but more reliable than the +steward; but above all, the Diogenes–with a slush-lamp. +His philosophy might be no ill store about +this time, when in the heat the pitch melted from +the seams of his cabin roof and mottled his bed, as +he put it: a circumstance not yet mentioned in +sonnets wooing tardy sleep, and which of course +called upon that nimble sixpence of <i>Bonadventure</i> +conversation, “She <i>is</i> a dirty ship.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61'></a>61</span><a id='link_11'></a>XI</h2> + +<p>A note of a train of thought forced upon me hereabouts +may find a place here, as it was set down.</p> + +<p>(<i>Feb. 4.</i>) It was nothing more nor less than the +appearance at dinner to-day of a bully stew and a +sort of ration lime juice, which drove my thoughts, +always willing to be driven in that direction, towards +a nervous period of 1916, my initiation into trench +warfare. The meal was something of a facsimile; +and soon after it, by a coincidence, I was sitting under +the scissors of a volunteer barber much as once after +such a dinner I sat in the alleyway by company headquarters, +opposite the red roofs of Auchy. The +<i>Bonadventure’s</i> bridge, I meditated as I endured the +shears of a B.E.F. man again, looked not unlike those +so-called “communication trenches” in the Richebourg +district, those make-believes; and, as the +steam-valve suddenly made me jump with its thudding +volley of minor explosions, I experienced an echo +of the ancient terrors in those same scantily covered +ways when cross-firing machine-guns opened upon +my working-party.</p> + +<p>The lime juice, in the present case, was of a milder +disposition than that to which we were accustomed. +Yet there was perceptible in it that uncivilized +strength which proved it to come of the same honest +origin. We were, I must confess–it is not too +late–much lacking in our appreciation of that uncompromising, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62'></a>62</span> +biting liquid which circulated in the +trenches, carried in jars which should have been, it +was felt, carrying rum. In itself a sort of candid +friend, that lime juice lacked advancement through +faults not its own. I mean, there was the chlorinated +water, which for all its virtues was hardly popular, +and there was the sugar, which was half-and-half, +associating, very friendly, with tea dust. Moreover, +this same <i>sugar</i>, in its nocturnal progress at the +bottom of a sandbag, while its carrier now stepped +into an artificial lake and now lay down for the +bullets of Quinque Jimmy to pass by unimpeded, +had acquired an interspersion of hairy particles; as +generally did our loaves of bread, which in some +cases might easily be supposed to be wearing wigs. +In this manner, the germ-destroyer, the intrusion of +tea dust and the moulted coat of sandbags, combined +to prevent the lime juice, like crabbed poet, “from +being as generally tasted as he deserved to be.”</p> + +<p>At Company Headquarters, too, there was often +in those easy times a rival beverage. Here and there +a messenger might be sent back to an estaminet and +return to the war with comforts within a couple of +hours.</p> + +<p>Yet I myself did my best to cultivate the “lime-juice +habit,” and to me it remains an integral part +of the interiors, gone but not forgotten, of many a +Rotten Row in the Béthune Sectors. I see its gloomy +and mottled surface, in the aluminium tumbler, +besides my platter of “meat and vegetable” or (as +to-day) of bully rehabilitated by the smoky cooks; +and about me the shape of the lean-to dugout rises +sufficiently high for a tall man to enter without going +on all fours. Here, is the earth settee, running +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63'></a>63</span> +round three sides of the table, there, the glory hole +in which, one at a time, we crawl to sleep, with a +fine confused bedding of British Warms and sandbags. +The purple typescript of <i>Comic Cuts</i>,<a id='FNanchor_1'></a><a href='#Footnote_1' class='fnanchor'><sup>[1]</sup></a> in which +what imagination and telescope has striven to reveal +of the “other fellow,” mind, body and soul, is set +in military prose, flaps neglectedly from its nail. In +their furious tints, the ladies of the late Kirchner +beam sweetly upon him who sets put on patrol and +him who returns; while in the convenient niches +between the walls and the corrugated iron roof above, +which as a protection might perhaps amount to the +faith of the ostrich, Mills bombs and revolvers and +ammunition nestle.</p> + +<p>There, given the noise of shells travelling over, +trench mortar bombs dropping short, machine guns +firing high–or of shells alighting abruptly on the +parados, trench mortar bombs thundering into the +next traverse, machine guns in spitfire temper +stripping the top layer of sandbags–the boyish +gay P. would with his subalterns pore over the +maps, receive with sinking heart the ominous “secret +and confidential” and “very secret” messages +brought in by those fine youths the runners; fill in, +not without murmurings, those <i>pro forma’s</i> which +at one time seemed likely to turn fighting into clerkship, or “censor” those +long pages of homely scrawl in copying pencil which were to keep up yet a day +more the spirits of sweethearts, mothers and wives.</p> + +<p>Thus the particular memories of trenches and our +times and seasons in them, roused by such a light +matter as this which has aroused them now, pass +with the greatest emotion before the mind. It is not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64'></a>64</span> +fashionable to talk of the war. Is the counsel, then, +to follow the Psalmist:</p> + +<div class='bquote'> +<p>I said, I will take heed to my ways: that I offend not +in my tongue....</p> + +<p>I held my tongue, and spake nothing. I kept silence, +yea, even from good words; but it was pain and grief +to me.</p> +</div> <!-- block quote --> + +<p>One has not to follow him very long in that.</p> + +<div class='bquote'> +<p>My heart was hot within me, and while I was thus +musing the fire kindled: and at the last I spake with my +tongue.</p> +</div> <!-- block quote --> + +<p>One wonders, though, how the Psalmist himself, +had he been one of us, would have found means to +communicate his strange undertones of experience, +according to their significance for himself? To whom +would it be of interest, if he described such a particle +as St. Vaast Keep on the Richebourg road, though +he saw daily again in some odd way its sandbagged +posts with the fine wood panels from the shell-like +house beside built in?–seen once, for a lifetime. +Or Port Arthur, that wreckage of a brewery near +Neuve Chapelle–why should every yard of its flimsy +fortification be coexistent with me? I could lead the +hearer through its observation-posts, its emplacements, +its warrens for human beings, its relics of +other days, with practical and geographical accuracy; +but the words would not contain my own sense of +the place, which from the very first I never needed +nor endeavoured to put into words. And yet it is +intense and instant. The reflection of the crazy +stronghold as it was, and with what it meant for me, +comes in a second when my thoughts lie that way, +and it is but one of a series of equal insistency. It +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65'></a>65</span> +is no question, this, of looking back on such a past +as in any degree glorious, of shirking the anguish that +overcast any adventurous gleam that these scenes +awakened. Their memory is as sombre and as +frightening as they were themselves in their aspect +and their annals.</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p>They come unbidden,</p> +</div> + +<p>and when they will come, the mind is led by them as +birds are said to be lured by the serpent’s eye. A +tune, a breath of sighing air, an odour–and there +goes the foolish ghost back to Flanders.</p> + +<p>Even here, I suppose, in the Atlantic’s healthy +blue, I am at the mercy of a coincidence in lime-juice.</p> + +<hr style='border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; height: 1px; width: 3em; text-align: left; margin: 10px auto 10px 0;' /> + +<div class='footnote'><a id='Footnote_1'></a><a href='#FNanchor_1'><span class='label'>[1]</span></a> +<p>Divisional Intelligence Report.</p> +</div> <!-- footnote --> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66'></a>66</span><a id='link_12'></a>XII</h2> + +<p>Following a roaster of day, with a slack wind astern +covering the deck forward with showers of cinders +like shot, I admired the moonlight and the sweet +night air before I turned in to sleep soundly. I woke +thinking I heard the usual swabbing of decks beginning, +but this was incorrect. It was quite dark, +and I began to think with gratitude of a second +innings of sleep; but when I looked at my watch it +was after seven. The din of water outside, mingled +with the rushing of a mighty wind, persuaded me to +go to the door. In a few moments the storm was at +its height, the sea shrouded in a thick deluge almost +to the ship’s side, and its waves beaten down by the +rain into pallid foam-veined inertia. An ashen grey +light was about us, but the clouds of rain veiled the +poop from one’s eyes amidships, and the siren +trumpeted out its warnings; while sheet-like lightning +flamed through the vapours, and bursts of deeper +thunder than I had ever heard followed hard upon +them. The decks were racing with water from overhead +covers and stairways, and in each lifting of the +storm the awning over the sailors’ quarters aft could +be seen tearing at its tethers.</p> + +<p>This fury soon slackened, and green and blue, pale +as yet, returned to the seas as they leapt away from +the bows. Breakfast intervened. Attention was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67'></a>67</span> +requested from the storm by the appearance of a +new and experimental kind of ham.</p> + +<p>“Yes. What d’ye think of the ham–tinned boneless +smoked ham?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I like it well enough; but it’s boneless. +If you take the bone away from ham, you take +away the nature of it.”</p> + +<p>This ham later on became much esteemed, but the +ingenious mind was for dissembling the fact: “We’d +better not give a too enthusiastic report on it or they’ll +only give it to the passenger boats” of the same +company.</p> + +<p>It was blowing still, from the coast of South +America. “Smell the mould?” asked Hosea, and +I did; a strange frightening fragrance, of the earth +earthy, a heavy and swooning smell. It was so +strong as to puzzle Bicker even, in his watch; and +its most unpleasant manifestation caused him to +look about for the carcass of a rat on the bridge deck.</p> + +<p>We had come by this time into a highway of ships. +The first that passed us, a small steamer, was not +much noticed; nor the next, which passed in the +night. “Her lamp gave a blink and then went out,” +said Bicker, and wished he could have emulated a +mate of his acquaintance who likewise signalled +to a passer-by in vain. “If you damn’d foreigners +can’t answer,” he sent out as she came alongside +presently, “why the hell don’t you keep out of +sight? Good night!” But, on being pressed, he +admitted that the “foreigner” replied: “Thank +you. And you’re a lady.”</p> + +<p>Then, however, another ship belonging to the +same company with the <i>Bonadventure</i> was seen afar +through the afternoon. As the two drew level, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68'></a>68</span> +ceremony took place. The houseflag was dipped +and raised and dipped again by both; the red ensign +was dipped; and the homeward-bound sounded her +monosyllable three times, to which our own whistle +replied in equal number. This, as old-fashioned a +courtesy as could be wished, excited several others +aboard the <i>Bonadventure</i> besides the tyro; and as +the chief engineer began his tea, he thus referred +to the prevailing spirit.</p> + +<p>“–Well, so we passed one of <i>our</i> ships again to-day! +I was lying in my hammock asleep, when the +mess-room boy came running up, panting out: ‘Sir, +here’s one of our ships!’ And I mumbled out something +like, ‘All right, John, there’s room enough for us +to pass, isn’t there?’ Everybody was seemingly out on +deck, peering up at the mate to see if he had forgotten +the flags; everybody was staring at the funnel +with the eye of expectancy, wondering ‘When the +hell’s that damn’d whistle going?’–I didn’t get up +for it. I suppose that’s equivalent to contempt of +court or high treason.”</p> + +<p>The bland face of the sage lighted up with pleasure +as he carefully gave us this impression of his.</p> + +<p>After the storm, the air was thunder-heavy all +that day. Great dragon-flies, and butterflies in sultry +brown and red, and that must have been borne out +to sea on the strong breeze, were fluttering over the +decks and the water. At night, there was abundant +lightning in the distance: most of all on the eastern +horizon, with its world of waters, the flashes were of +a dusky redness, and of vague mountainous outline. +They came fast and furious, until the moon at last +seemed to overawe such wild carouse, and in good +earnest to govern the night; while in a deep blue +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69'></a>69</span> +darkness, among the folds of white cloud, stars shone +with new clearness. Under this celestial content, +the <i>Bonadventure</i> moved over a gleaming sea.</p> + +<p>Mead, on his watch, was troubled. He sought in +his mind a life better paid and more exciting. Every +few moments, he would add some detail aloud to a +scheme for piracy in these waters, which he thought +might be made a profitable occupation. He pictured +a coaster, duly registered, running with ordinary +cargo to and fro, but on the lines of a “Q” boat, a +sort of marine wolf in sheep’s clothing, armed with +torpedo tubes. In all respects, himself being already +chosen as captain, its crew should form a co-operative +society. The pirate should carry a wireless installation +of the noisiest sort. In brief, the whole scheme +appealed to him so warmly that he was ready, apart +from details to be arranged, especially a financier, +to put it into practice. Me he would accept as purser, +not so much because I showed any promise as a +book-keeper, as that I had been in an infantry +battalion in the Line.</p> + +<p>The ship was slowing down, and the chief was +worried. One morning he offered me employment, +“cleaning the tubes. You come round to my place.” +I went round at about nine, when the ship’s engines +were stopped, and found that he had as ever been +amusing himself in his quiet way. He himself, with +the firemen, was now ready to act as the ship’s +chimney-sweeps. After a full morning’s work, masked +in sweat and soot, they came up on deck again from +the job. I did not regret my earlier “disappointment.” +Relieved of the clogging soot, the <i>Bonadventure</i> +ran with fresh speed, against a tough head +wind. For the first time for some days, one heard +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70'></a>70</span> +the harsh drumming of the excess of steam escaping +through its valve. The wind drove the water, hereabouts +of a jade green colour, into long waves and +their fine manes of spray, upon which the sun made +many a small and fleeting rainbow. With this head +wind piping, and the cargo, it seemed, having shifted +lately, the ship had an uncomfortable list to port +and swayed as she went. “Here, you,” cried +Meacock to me, “your extra weight on the port +side’s doing this.” “Yes, it’s perfectly plain he is +the Jonah of the voyage.”</p> + +<p>A dozen big black birds appeared as travelling +companions, white-breasted and easy-going. At a +closer view, I found that they were not properly black +but of that dingy russet grey towards which old +mushrooms grow. They seemed never to clap their +wings, but sailed as our gulls do on the wind, wheeling +and looping with a leisurely grace, and patrolling +the sea as closely as an owl beats a meadow without +wetting a wing-tip.</p> + +<p>Nor was this the only token of our nearing our +first destination. Shore-going suits and boots were +out in the sun already. The steward’s usual attitude +became that of a priest, as he carried the captain’s +suits gingerly here and there.</p> + +<p>But there was still time for trouble. A relapse in +the sainted manner of the old fellow occurred one +day at breakfast. The most tremendous roarings, +himself and the offending donkeyman in turn or in +chorus, suddenly broke out, and ended in the steward’s +ascent with a complaint to Hosea. Then, one evening, +after my quiet enjoyment of the pure blue sky after +a shower, with its Southern Cross and the false cross +and other stars strange to me glittering marvellously +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71'></a>71</span> +keen, I went in to my cabin to write, when I +instantly perceived something in the air. A most +pungent aroma, indeed, had been instilled through +the house; and going to inquire I found Cyrano of +Cardiff kneeling on the saloon floor, applying a +special kind of red paint. Properly, he said, it was +used for the keels of ships. I thought too that that +was its proper application.</p> + +<p>At dinner, too, events took a serious turn. When +I had in previous days heard spaghetti hailed as +Wind-pipes, for instance, I had realized the phrase +as a humorous hyperbole. But now the tinned meat +problem presented itself to me in a more sinister +light–I was not so sure! There before me was a +godless lump of briny red fat and stringy appendages +floating more or less in a thick brown liquid which +demanded the spectacles of optimism. A reinforcement +of stony beans did not mend the matter. The +meat, as it fell out, wore a portion of skin, remarkable +for prickly excrescences, and hinting that I was +about to batten on the relics of a young porcupine, or +at least peculiar pork. Presently I asked Meacock +what sort of flesh this was. He answered: “O Lord, +<i>I</i> don’t know–it’s–well, I don’t think you can get +beyond tinned <i>meat</i>.”</p> + +<p>Another incident affected the administration. An +apprentice, whose stature brought him, beyond the +chance of escape, the nickname Little Tich, and who +was generally being bantered by someone or other, +was cleaning the brasswork of the compass in the +wheel-house. Meacock went in to take a bearing. +The bearing he got nonplussed him, and he got Mead +to try. Mead also found the needle giving strange +evidence. Suddenly it dawned upon them that its +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72'></a>72</span> +delusion was due to a tremendous dagger worn by +the very small and keenly occupied Tich.</p> + +<p>The <i>Bonadventure</i> maintained her mended pace, +and also her awkward list, which conspired with a +strong swell; thus it was that the “fiddle” so +necessary to the safety of cups and plates in the Bay +of Biscay reappeared at this late stage. The nights +were beautiful, with their white moon and moonlight +far over the water, their stars, few, and of the moon’s +glowing whiteness, the light veilings of cloud blown +in silence about the sky, and little else heard except +the subdued measure of the ship’s engines, the +lapping repulse of waves from the bows, and the +sharp call of birds ahead and astern. Well might +Mead be glad of his roving temperament, as on his +watch we talked and smoked above the expanse +of rimpled water, and looked towards the sword-like +lightnings in the south.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73'></a>73</span><a id='link_13'></a>XIII</h2> + +<p>We came into grey waters, and also into a grey sort +of day, overcast and moody. In the evening the +wind was strong from the land, and laden with that +earthy scent which had so surprised me when I +first encountered it; a languid, rich and beguiling +perfume, that is tomb-like and unnerving in its +suggestion, rising over us. It made out for me the +spirit of Tom Hood’s last song, if it was his last +song; the one beginning “Farewell, life, my senses +swim”; its first verse ending “I smell the Mould +above the Rose,” and its second, “I smell the Rose +above the Mould.”</p> + +<p>Hosea engaged me in discussion of Tennyson and +Edwin Arnold. He had been carrying out a lively +campaign in his room, where an unwelcome insect +had appeared lately; one would have doubted whether +any insect, however irrepressible, could have existed +in the atmosphere of cigar smoke which he daily +thickened in that room of his. But there it was, the +bug had been seen, and the whole room was overhauled.</p> + +<p>This did not in any way deflect him from his +evening pursuit of the abstract. His resolution in +following a problem through its own difficult +aspects, combined with his control of the <i>Bonadventure</i>, +often made me wonder whether he was typical of his +fellow-captains. Though, as he said, the roaring-bull +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74'></a>74</span> +style of master mariner was almost extinct, I +could not help thinking him singular.</p> + +<p>I woke at about four, following an inquiry into +some remote subject, from a dream of roaring thunderbolts, +out of whose red and whizzing track I was +crouching on the lee side of barns and cowsheds. I +looked out; there was a loud wind much like that +which brought the storm of the other Sunday. I +went back to bed a little disappointed. This squall +left the makings of a very good breeze blowing and +moreover lowered the temperature. The mate complained +of his khaki shorts; the second mate had had +to bring out another blanket, although it was a sunny +morning. The colour of the sea was changing as we +went at a striking rate; but prevailing, in those +shallower roads turbid with silt or sand was a greenness +as of horse-chestnut leaves at their prime. Here +and there were dark acres of discoloured water +drifting by, contrasting magnificently with the green +and its bright white-crested waves. The afternoon +brought into sight the dim shapes of coastline with +those now less familiar things trees and houses. +This advance was welcomed by Mead and the +apprentices who lived in his alleyway with spirited +but not spiritual songs.</p> + +<p>The next day, Hosea was very early at the door of +the wireless operator’s cabin, endeavouring to get +a reply from the ship’s agents in Monte Video, to +questions sent some days before. I do not think he +succeeded. There was, however, much buzzing, and +I got up to enjoy the time of day. It was still keen +outside–“a nipping and an eager air”–the sky +being blue and the sun unclouded none the less; +over the drab green sea, a seagull or two in their +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75'></a>75</span> +lordly fashions flapping against the wind; to starboard, +in a gentle haze, a view of rugged shore. This +point was one of mountainous eminences, rolling like +larger Downs, with white cliffs or sandy beaches +under their light red masses. Other steamers were +in our neighbourhood, on the same course out or +home, some bright with new paint, others scarred +and rusty. Probably they were having tripe in +batter for breakfast like ourselves, the prose part +of me suggested; and I felt with gratitude that I +must have become a new and better man, who +could now face and even look forward to a food +which had hitherto only interested me as a favourite +with C. Lamb.</p> + +<p>The continued cold caused me to return to socks; +but I delayed the reinstatement of the collar, which +I had found no such necessity to human happiness.</p> + +<p>It seemed no time at all before we had passed +Flores Island, and Monte Video came into view. +Bright sandy shores gave place to a parched sort of +greenery, as it looked, with large buildings here and +there; the town beyond lay terraced on rising ground, +its square monotonous buildings hot in the sun, whose +fervour the roofs returned in dazzling mirror-glare. +The spires and minarets of its more pretentious +architecture, something scantily, relieved the greyness +of the formal rows, barracks, warehouses and whatever +else. Farther on a rough squat cone of barren-looking +ground surmounted with another heavy +square-cut building caught but scarcely charmed the +eye. As the heat was dreary, so at a casual glance +through the smouldering air this town of flat roofs +and tiers.</p> + +<p>Hosea, very smart, with his telescope under his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76'></a>76</span> +arm, and the second mate beside him, stood on the +bridge. Hosea was giving orders, the second mate +passing them on to the engineer below on the ringing +telegraph, and by megaphone to Meacock, who with +the carpenter stood to the anchor forward. Flags +were run up announcing the <i>Bonadventure</i>. No +answer, in the form of a launch, was vouchsafed so +early, although other ships moored round about us +were being visited by agents or doctors. The word +was given to let go the anchor. “Forty-five on the +windlass!” The cumbrous chain unwound and ran +down with a cloud of rust. The <i>Bonadventure</i> lay +still, even the cocoa-like mud which her propeller had +been diffusing in a few moments thinning away.</p> + +<p>A gangway was let down over the side. Firemen +and engineers came up from the underworld and all–not +only the passenger–looked towards a motor +launch which now appeared making swiftly towards +us. She was tied up a moment later with ropes at +the foot of the gangway, and an Englishman emerging +from her small beautifully polished saloon, asked in +supercilious fashion for the captain. “Come +aboard.” “No, I can’t,” Hosea stalked forth with +successful dignity, as if unaware that anyone should +be calling; then, going back for the ship’s papers, +boarded the launch, and we heard that we were going +on to Buenos Aires. The papers were quickly seen +and restored; letters–general gloom!–were absent, +probably with some other agents; and the launch and +the young man in his beautiful suit, raiment for a +diplomat, departed.</p> + +<p>We stayed here at anchor through the afternoon; +telescopes sprang up on all sides, even if to unacquainted, +non-cubist eyes the view was rather +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77'></a>77</span> +interesting than pleasing. Every half-hour or so, some +tramp would leave the harbour. Curiosity in their +case was small. Every half-hour, launches puffed +along to take back their pilots. The purlieus of +Monte Video with their apparent but distant gaiety, +even, were soon disregarded.</p> + +<p>Bicker and Meacock exchanged humorous history +by the engine bunkers, in holiday mood. The +steward, who had lost little time in putting out a fishline, +leaned over the rail in meditation, not knowing +that his misanthropic look was being almost to a line +caught by Bicker behind him. Bicker also illustrated +in dumb show the action of heaving the poor old man +overboard. And, meanwhile, it was hot: no doubt +of that! Presently the doleful patience of the steward +was rewarded with a foolish-looking fish perhaps three +pounds in weight, which was soon cut into sectors +and salted.</p> + +<p>When towards seven in the evening the anchor +was got up and the ship began to move up the River +Plate to Buenos Aires, the scene was one to be +remembered. Astern lay Monte Video with its lines +of lights, and from its hill one great light glowed out +momently; ahead lay the buoys of the channel, +flashing first red and then white in reassuring alternation +along our course; and the moon overhead, +pale with a stratum of thin cloud, or lost at times +behind echelons of stormier vapours, gave light +enough to hint at the look of the shores. At first +the captain, the mate and the anchor appeared the +three forces acting on the ship, the anchor especially, +which was loath to come aboard. At last it came, +and the <i>Bonadventure</i> went steadily up the river to +the pipe of a rising wind.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78'></a>78</span>Hosea, well satisfied, sat down in his room with his +“purser” to theorize in our wonted way. The +beauty of the commonplace, it was; then we were +considering the simplicity of seafaring men. They +must be simple, he said, to have done what they had +done, including Columbus. Seafaring in sailing ships, +he described in the powerful phrase “fighting against +your God”; a phrase which I suppose the early +mariners in their piety might have applied to steamers.</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p>Those trim skiffs unknown of yore–</p> +</div> + +<p>I condense Coleridge–</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p>That fear no spite of wind or tide!</p> +</div> + +<p>Phillips joined us. “We’re discussing nautical history, +chief.” Being assured that this really was so, +Phillips said he was uncertain about the true story +of the <i>Golden Hind’s</i> boatswain, but he felt certain +about our not reaching Buenos Aires in the morning. +If he were not a moral man, he would “bet you, sir, +two pence on the point.”</p> + +<p>The pilot, a tan-brown moustached little man, +came in–not for his black straw hat, but for his +oilskins and goloshes. “That’s right,” said Phillips +with malevolent sympathy, “that’s right, pilot, +always keep your feet thoroughly dry.” The pilot +had at least the excuse that it was drizzling outside.</p> + +<p>It blew hard and harder all night; and the next +morning, Sunday, one thought of the collapse of an +English October. About half-past seven we dropped +anchor in the “roads” outside our promised port; +on all sides bleakly lapping and passing the pea-soup +waters of the River Plate. Father Prout’s whimsical +haunting old lines pervaded my mind as I stared and +warmed myself with pacing up and down:</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79'></a>79</span>With deep affection and recollection</p> +<p> I often think of the Shandon bells,</p> +<p>Whose sounds so wild would, in days of childhood,</p> +<p> Fling round my cradle their magic spells.</p> +<p>On this I ponder, where’er I wander,</p> +<p> And thus grow fonder, sweet Cork, of thee,</p> +<p> With thy bells of Shandon,</p> +<p> That sound so grand on</p> +<p>The pleasant waters of the River Lee.</p> +</div> + +<p>Not far from his old loves, how did some of us once +for a brief stay, with those whirlpools in Flanders still +roaring more hungrily in our destiny, hear other bells +ring in enchanting coolness over the gliding boat, +borne on the bosom of wooded Blackwater!</p> + +<p>But these bleak and turbid waters turned the +ringing song to parody, nor did the <i>Bonadventure’s</i> +bell, a war product, sound particularly grand upon +them as those past bells on their importal streams. +The outlook and the chilliness made breakfast unusually +welcome. The pilot came in, but having no +English to speak of (or with) he could not tell us his +real views on the weather and such important matters. +The chief loudly–for more clarity–pressed him with +such questions as “When does your next <span class='sc'>Strike</span> +begin?” but he smiled and ate on.</p> + +<p>About dinner-time a fine white launch came out to +us; and a number of authorities, including some +doctors, came aboard. The ship’s company assembled +aft like an awkward squad, and the doctors came +along the line feeling pulses; a task which they did +genially and without strain. That done, and no +one being set aside for a further examination, all +dispersed. The authorities (a generous allowance of +them) proceeded to Hosea’s quarters, no doubt to +wind up the morning’s work in comfort. I listened +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80'></a>80</span> +meanwhile to Mead, who leaning over above their +launch, amused himself with making noisy and +scandalous observations upon its crew, their careers +and their faces. Why this fury? I really believe it +was his way of expressing fraternity.</p> + +<p>So there was nothing to do but wait for our new +pilot on Monday morning: to play cards with a pack +whose age had given each card characteristic markings +besides those upon its face; to “yarn.” At tea, +Bicker was in his most assiduous narrative mood. +“We were in the West Indies in a boat bringing the +bumboat woman aboard–well, she started to climb +up the rope ladder and this fellow thought he’d lay +his hand on her ankle. So he made a move to do so. +Just then” (his broad grin grew almost incredibly +broad), “the boat gave a roll, and as he had one foot +on the gunwale, and one on the rope ladder he fell +into the water. Well, he went down past rows and +rows of plates, and we looked out for him to come +up.–First a hat, his black hat, came up. And then, +a newspaper came up”–[<i>Chief</i> (<i>ignored</i>) “To say he +wasn’t coming up?”]–and then, <i>he</i> came up. Stern +first. We dragged him on deck, and there he was all +spluttering, and then he said as solemn as a judge:</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p>‘That’s the fruits of Blacklegging.’”</p> +</div> + +<p>This closed the proceedings.</p> + +<p>Under the sunset the river’s dingy current began +to take on a strange glory, and changed into a tawny +golden wilderness moving down to sea. Then +presently it was full moon and pale splendours. A +great quiet prevailed; but led by the moon, like the +tide and the poets, Mead and myself paced the +decks for hours recalling the local colour of war apart +from fighting.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81'></a>81</span><a id='link_14'></a>XIV</h2> + +<p>A most placid morning. The sky ahead was silvered +with the smoke of unseen Buenos Aires, the water so +gleaming that the flat coast lined with trees, to starboard, +appeared to be midway suspended between +one mother-of-pearl heaven and another. The new +pilot arrived in this early tranquillity, and the ship +resumed her way up the channel marked out by buoys +of several shapes.</p> + +<p>The sun increased in power all too fast. I stood +on the bridge to hear the pilot and the mates giving +their directions: we came to a couple of tugs told +off to escort the <i>Bonadventure</i> in. Ropes leapt aboard +us, tossed up in the adroitest way and caught as +cleverly by our sailors; the bigger cables were +attached to them, drawn aboard the tugs and made +fast; and so we went on with tugboats fore and aft. +The peculiar beauty of the morning mist over Buenos +Aires soon began to thin away and disclose great +buildings. And now we were almost at our journey’s +end; and in hurrying ease, drew past fishing boats +and small sailing craft into the harbour mouth. On +our port side, on a sort of palisade running out into +the estuary, a host of sea-eagles perched yelping, +their lean black bodies sharply designed in the white +light. Their motto I took to be: Multitude and solitude. +Beyond their grand stand appeared a green +grove of downward foliage, the gaudy precinct of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82'></a>82</span> +what, I was informed by the wireless operator, who +began to act the guide-book, was a destructor for the +frozen meat industry. He went on to specify the +number of animals daily converted and to give other +details which interested him, as an ex-wielder of the +pole-axe; but my attention was distracted by the +ships swinging into an approach crowded with +dredgers and their ugly barges swilling mud, with +motor-boats and lighters and as it looked to me every +sort of medium for water traffic, bright and drab, +proud and lowly in a confusion.</p> + +<p>The waterway divides. To our left, a channel lies +under giant steel bridges. Our course is not there: +we are piloted towards a dock for passenger and cargo +ships, and entering it in a hot glare, and colouring that +almost sears, of sky and water and paint, we make our +berth, wallowing once over the water’s breadth to +the anger of lesser navigators, who go by in their +boats bawling at the bridge in general. The handsome +passenger boats with their great paddle-wheels +and their red awnings lie opposite our plebeian +resting-place: beside a grimy wharf, where small +cranes and coal carts seem to multiply.</p> + +<p>Of an expectant company there on Wilson’s Wharf, +the chief feature was by immediate common consent +recognized in an old lady in a heliotrope dress, tightly +girdled–and she was of mountainous shape. The +demure inch of petticoat revealed below the hem of +her well-hitched skirt was not overlooked. Beside +this beldame, a long thin youth, a very reed straw by +comparison, puffed at a cherry cigarette-holder, +vacantly but fixedly eyed the ship and seemed to +await her instructions. A laundry cart, with an +insufficient animal in the shafts, stood behind them +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83'></a>83</span> +and showed what they too stood for, emblems +peculiar.</p> + +<p>Scarcely had the <i>Bonadventure</i> come to rest before +a swarm of anxious sallow ruffians were aboard for +the “ship’s orders.” The rooms of Hosea himself +were not free from their invasion; not free that is, +for a moment. Their intruding faces caused him to +roar in the most frightful fashion; at which, hesitating +as if before an injustice, they got out, but still hung +about the gangways. When, presently, he went +ashore to pay his official respects to the ship’s agents, +we saw a trail of these indefatigables close on his +heels, and on his return he said that four of them had +followed him all the way. I now perceived quite +plainly why, when I a stranger appeared aboard the +<i>Bonadventure</i> at Barry Dock and desired to find the +captain, there was no eager answer to my query. +Tailors, bootmakers (one with a motor-tyre or +a piece of one over his shoulder), engineers and +I don’t know who else formed the polysyllabic +cordon.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the <i>Bonadventure</i> was hauled in close +to the edge of the quay, and a gang of dock hands +came on deck bearing ropes and pulley blocks. The +ship’s derricks having been lifted, these made the +first preparations for discharging the cargo. The +hatches were laid open, and the planks covering them +pitched aside much as though they were so many +walking-sticks. I was not the only one deluded by +this despatch into thinking our discharge likely to +be over in a few days.</p> + +<p>Buenos Aires; a tremendous town, a “southern +Paris,” a New-World epitome. So much, so little I +knew of it. It lay here, its heart not a half-hour’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84'></a>84</span> +walk from our mooring. But the vastness of the +rumoured hive, the heat, I daresay indolence too, +prevented me from taking this first opportunity +for walking into the strange streets. It was excessively +hot, and that settled the matter. There was +plenty to watch on the river and alongside: it would +have been odd, if it had not proved so. So, swollen +somewhat with the feeling that I was now a considerable +seafarer, and not unpleased to be mistaken +for one by the miscellaneous visitors who had by +this examined the decks and accommodation–all +doors locked–somewhat fruitlessly, but still loitered, +I stayed idle.</p> + +<p>Trenches will recur to their old inhabitants. The +small coal in the yards here stood walled in with +a breastwork of sandbags, built with tolerable skill +upon the old familiar pattern of headers and stretchers +and as I happened to be remarking upon this fact +to the wireless man, interrupting his propaganda +about a strike in which he personally would resist +to the last, a little launch chanced past with the +name <i>Ypres</i> on her bows.</p> + +<p>She was but one of an endless to and fro of small +craft. The tall and airy passenger boats, at intervals, +came by in brilliance. When there was a pause in +this coming and going, and nothing more happening +on the water than the snapping of the small yellow +catfish at bread floating below the ship, I still felt +a quiet and languid gratitude for the novelty of being +where I was.</p> + +<p>That gratitude was to be tempered soon. The +plague of the mosquitoes of the docks had been +painted dark enough for me during the days of +approach; and when I got to bed, the threatened +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85'></a>85</span> +invasion had begun. Determining not to consider +the question at all, I read deep in my pocket copy of +Young’s <i>Night Thoughts on Life, Death and Immortality</i>, +as in worse quarters many a time, and duly +went to sleep like a philosopher.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86'></a>86</span><a id='link_15'></a>XV</h2> + +<p>Could this be Saint Valentine’s Day? Here in a +dreary looking dock with a surplus of sun but a +seeming lack of oxygen, and only a sort of amphibious +race as company? Newspapers were at any rate +valentine enough. They were read with real care, +football results being perhaps the consolation most +sought.</p> + +<p>Hosea showed me the way into the town. We +turned out over the docks, out at last from a kingdom +of coal-dust, over a swing bridge; took a tram, and +were soon at the shipping agents’ offices. He spent +some time in earnest conference here, and the visit +ended with a visit to other agents’ offices, and that +again with an adjournment with a serene member of +the staff to a bar. In this excellent place, my ignorance +of a kind of drink, saffron in colour and with a +piece of pineapple submerged, was soon dispelled. +The collection of olives, biscuits, monkey-nuts and +flakes of fried potato which the waiter brought with +the drinks was to me unexpected. We went, with +our good-natured guide, to lunch in a huge hotel. +Gaining the top of the building by the lift, we sat +at a table near the windows of a luxurious room filled +with luxurious people, and had the pleasure of looking +as we ate over the less celestial roofs of the town +to the calm flood of the River Plate beyond. Distance +lent enchantment to this view also. The conditions +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87'></a>87</span> +were good for eating, our friend’s romantic tales +apart.</p> + +<p>We departed from this commendable place, and, +there being still engagements for Hosea with the +shipping agents, we went there. Emerging, he had +to go to the British Consulate. We hired a taxi. +The traffic of Buenos Aires, or practice and precept +differ, was free from irksome restrictions of speed; +and we were whirled over the cobblestones and tramlines +and round trams, horsemen, wagons, rival cars +and everything else in a breath-taking rush. “I +get in these things,” said Hosea, “saying to myself, +If I don’t come out of this alive, then I shan’t.” +We got out alive. The Consul’s workshop (it was +perhaps known by a more dignified name) was in a +scrubby street; and the young man in charge had +my sympathy. However, it was not my fault that +he was being slowly roasted.</p> + +<p>That call left Hosea at liberty to explore the town. +We walked on and on, looking at the shops, and be it +acknowledged at the beauties who went by, until +we arrived at the small park over which the Museum +rises to that southern sun, ornate and massy. Here +we entered to spend the afternoon among a few visitors +and as many official incumbents. We entered +solemnly resolved to find a Palace of Art–Hosea +putting away from him all his connection with ships +and the worries of that next necessity, the “charter +party.”</p> + +<p>Plaster casts and original statuary were plentiful +in the Museum. The eye of the weary mariners +rested none too long upon these. The multitude +of paintings, however, were considered gently and +methodically: Hosea would stand before the weakest +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88'></a>88</span> +trying to comprehend the artist’s intention, and to +claim something in his daub as a virtue. Sometimes +he would put on his eyeglass to survey the subject. +To me, there seemed no such quality here–I speak as +a scribe, without authority–as there was quantity.</p> + +<p>There have been many energetic and accomplished +administerings of paint, but to what purpose? The +eternal allegory, demanding one nude figure or more, +and justifying by the general level Hosea’s praise +of a well-known picture called “September Morning,” +or sweetened description of evening, with its cows +coming home under its warped moon, its ploughman +in a vague acre, and the rest. Was this the southern +genius?</p> + +<p>One or two modern pictures here revealed a strength +and idiosyncrasy beyond almost all the rest. A +portrait of six youths, drawn with fierce intensity of +colour and of line, expressing distinctions of character +in subtle vital sharpness, long detained me. +Another untypical picture, as recent as the last, was +based upon a rustic festival or ritual with which I +of course was unacquainted; but the epic lives of +peasant men and women in their long combat with +the stern giver of grain were legible in the strange +georgic faces and the mysterious melancholy glory +of their assembly.</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p> –Seemed listening to the earth,</p> +<p>Their ancient mother, for some comfort yet.</p> +</div> + +<p>Among the many harmless little pieces representing +vases of flowers, woodland melody, and other conventions, +I caught sight of a portrait of a young girl +(“My lady at her casement” type) drawn with mild +ability. The signature, very large and clear, was</p> + +<div class='center'> +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89'></a>89</span><span class='sc'>Ch. Chaplin.</span></p> +</div> <!-- centered --> + +<p>On referring to the minute brass plate beneath so +innocent a vanity, we learned that Charles Chaplin, +1825-1891, was a painter of the “French School.” +Pictures must run in the family.</p> + +<p>The first afternoon, Hosea and myself could find +no specimen of an English artist among the multitude: +but returning another day to make certain +(and once again we had the gallery more or less to +ourselves) we found a small and typical study by +Wilkie, and a portrait by Sir Thomas Lawrence. +Before this last, a work of the loftiest morality–in +its subject I mean–and of a colouring delicately +fine, Hosea stood in enthusiasm. “I’m not sure,” he +said, and once again drew an impression before proceeding, +“that that isn’t the finest thing we’ve seen.” +The spectacle of King Arthur in his bronze near the +exit, in his bronze but somehow devoid of his grandeur, +ended our artistic adventures. The business of +criticism, no doubt, is to keep cool: but this we had +scarcely been able to do. I should have given up +early, but for the determination of Hosea; and even +he began to feel the scorching heat above the æsthetic +calm.</p> + +<p>The ship’s football was brought out in the evening, +and on a patch of waste ground alongside, flanked by +thickets of rank weed, and ankle-deep in sand and +coal-dust, we enjoyed ourselves most strenuously. +There were one or two real drawbacks. A vigorous +and unwary kick was apt to send the ball into the +river, and to recover it meant clambering up and down +the slanting wall of the wharf, which was coated with +black grease, fishing with a pole, anxiously watching +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90'></a>90</span> +the currents, and quickly becoming as black and +greasy as the masonry. And on the other hand, +there was here a depôt of large drain-pipes, which +might equally receive the erratic ball; then arose +the questions: Whereabouts in the pipes had it +bounced? Would the drain-pipe on which you were +standing really roll from under you and bring down +a dozen others? Meanwhile the watchman of the +depôt would be there uttering untranslated dissatisfaction +with the whole affair.</p> + +<p>We had not been in the South Basin many minutes +when the chaplain of The Missions to Seamen was +among us with his witty stories and, I believe, his +put-and-take teetotum. At any rate, the latter +became as well recognized a part of his equipment as +his quips. At his invitation, I went several times +to the Mission, which was quite the rendezvous for +the crews of British ships in the port. Its concert +room, its billiard room and other comfortable places +were generally very lively, the two chaplains apparently +possessing an inexhaustible reserve of cheerfulness. +English ladies too came there to brighten the +evenings, to sing and join in at cards and conversation; +their generosity, I believe, furnished the other +refreshments of these evenings.</p> + +<p>Next door to the Mission, a dingy annexe to a sort +of grocery, labelled the “British Bar,” was not +neglected. Talk and beer and smoke prevailed here +until midnight and afterwards: indeed, I had scarcely +sat down before a vast mate from some other ship +had challenged me to name a better Test Match +captain than Mr. Fender. Other patrons of the +Oval soon took up the cry, but I resisted for the rest +of the session.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91'></a>91</span>The discharge of coal began, a monotonous process +however considered; down in the hold one saw +through the busy dust a small but growing mine-crater +done in coal, at the foot of which were lying, +stooping, chattering, the nearly naked figures of the +labourers. Negroes they looked down there, but +were white unofficially. They shovelled now from +this side, now from that into a great iron bucket: +above, at a sign, the man with his lever set the winch +working and the derrick hoisted the bucket up and +over, then down into the lighter that lay alongside. +And so with intervals through the day. Then at +night, the dock’s aboriginal mosquitoes came forth; +as the mate said, like a German band, all the most +agonizing shades of musical audacity emanating +from them. They drove not only me but old hands +out on deck at night, where a chilly autumn wind +was blowing, which drove us indoors again. But as +the light grew, our tormentors lessened. The sun +ariseth, and they get them away together, and lay +them down in their dens.</p> + +<p>To avoid these visitors as much as possible, I +refrained from exploring the town over tiringly during +the day, and went off with Mead in his shore suit +after the evening’s football on the dust-patch: and +stayed as late as meanderings in the town could make +it. We certainly departed from the usual haunts of +sailors the first night; went on and on, until even the +adventurous Mead had to say: “This is rather a +depraved kind of street.” And more, there was something +in the air–some way off, we heard the interrupted +fire of (what roused imagination converted +into) a machine gun. The slatternly folk sitting, +with white gleams of face or dress in the shadows, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92'></a>92</span> +by their doors; the herds of unaccustomed faces in +the large threadbare bars; the many groups of folk +standing expectantly about the street, and our own +alien solitude–all gave this sensation of disquiet. +In a manner enjoying it, we proceeded, past an +orator roaring out in fine fury to a small but intent +crowd, and presently found ourselves in a large square +with its many lamps, its glossy cars stealing swiftly +by or waiting on the rank, its fountains playing like +mists among deep green of trees.</p> + +<p>Magnificent, and nearly empty, was the café into +which we went; brilliant its interior; attached to the +gilded columns, how eloquent of drinking as a fine +art, its scoreboards announcing the many specialities! +We stayed until midnight. Then, having roughly +found out our way home, we set out for the docks, +and, pausing to divine the sense of a poster giving +details of a “Radical” demonstration for the next +day, saw the police come hurrying up to a gathering +of people round the next bar door. One of the police +as he passed us at speed caught his toe against a stone +and with his sword and fine feathers came down flat +on the pavement. The gathering at the bar door +were so absorbed in their topic that no one looked, +much less laughed at his loud discomfiture.</p> + +<p>Sometimes I found an occasion to leave the <i>Bonadventure</i> +in her noisy dishabille, during the day. +There was one walk with the wireless operator to a +smaller tramp in a distant dock, aboard which somewhat +shapelier ship than the <i>Bonadventure</i> he had +an acquaintance. Walking over the irregular cobbles +and among the railway lines of the wharves in the heat +was a sufficient exercise. We left our ship carpeted +with coal-dust; passed cattle pounds, grain elevators +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93'></a>93</span> +glaring white, and on the opposite side steamers in +process of being loaded or discharged; went along a +rail track where the grains which had lain longest +had sprung up in unavailing green, and under chutes +where sacks of corn were sliding down to the holds of +ships. The mate of the <i>Primrose</i> whom we had come +to see was thoroughly happy, and resembled almost +to a hair my sergeant observer of years before. Putting +on a record–his gramophone was actually in +order–and offering cigars, he produced an extraordinary +picture of his ship, in needlework. The +ancient art of the sampler had passed to him. He +seemed, I noticed, <i>of</i> his ship: its mahogany-lined +saloon and more domestic style were congenial with +his paterfamilias air and “Not to-day, thank you” +mildness to various business callers. The wireless +operator, also, seemed to be less interested in the +regulations of his calling and more in photographs +of ships and sailors. With these kind spirits in my +mind, I was somewhat preoccupied as we walked +back the way we came among the pigeons and the +dock labourers stretched out under every railway +truck and crane for their siesta.</p> + +<p>Then there were one or two more rounds of the +town with Hosea, chiefly in the busiest neighbourhood. +I began to know the tall statue of Columbus as a +landmark. All the morning, perhaps, Hosea would +be going from one office to another, seeking to define +the ship’s future and to hasten her discharge, while +I kicked my heels in entrances under the suspicious +eyes of the janitors. Kindness was readier in the +frowsy offices of the ship’s chandlers; whence the +delectably dressed youth the firm’s son soon led the +way to a table and vermouth in the Avenida de Mayo. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94'></a>94</span> +We went again, with a new companion, to the Florida +restaurant for our lunch: but the new companion +and myself having been contemporary in the Ypres +salient, our excessive reminiscences began to pall +upon the long-suffering Hosea. One day Hosea +entrusted to me, for transport to the ship, the sailors’ +wages in notes, and the letters. He was staying +ashore, and did not fancy the prospect of carrying so +much money about with him. Neither did I; but +it is hard to say whether the responsibility for the +pay overshadowed that for the letters. I was pleased +to climb aboard the <i>Bonadventure</i> with both, after +passing through the knock-off rush from the docks. +But I seemed to be blamed for not bringing letters +for every one; such is the lot of the volunteer.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95'></a>95</span><a id='link_16'></a>XVI</h2> + +<p>There was a feeling (based on observation) aboard +the <i>Bonadventure</i> that the discharge of the ship was +not being carried out with all possible speed, owing +to the prevailing mysterious influences of the offices +in the town. Delays were many. This augury of a +long sojourn in our present berth depressed many of +us: I had already observed, or judged, that whatever +the earlier mariners may have thought of seafaring, +the modern sailor’s idea in sailing is to get back home +as early as possible. We soon heard that four days +of public holiday, the Carnival, would be added to +our term. It was evident that one must make the +best of it, and be thankful on those days when some +actual progress was made.</p> + +<p>Mosquitoes, as I have said, were a great subject +here. We had opportunities to study them. With +<i>Macbeth</i> in hand as a convenient weapon., I +nightly reduced the horde, but these</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p>Stubborn spearsmen still made good</p> +<p>The dark impenetrable wood.</p> +</div> + +<p>The heat grew sickly sometimes at night, and the +cabins were black with flies and mosquitoes alike. +To sleep there was to be slowly suffocated, let alone +the folly of sleeping among man-eaters. An outdoor +faith was forced upon me, and yet the deck was no +real enclosure from the enemy: the faith would end +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96'></a>96</span> +at four or so in the morning, a time of day to which I +was becoming as accustomed as of old, and when the +riverside gave off a smell which I remembered noticing +in the trench regions east of Béthune. Then, still +hopeful, I would face my cabin and soon after swathing +myself in the brief sheets of the bunk would be +asleep. That interim unrecognized, here I was awake +again in a world where chisels chip paint and steam-driven +machines tip tons of coal. The great buckets +were now being strung over to railway vans, which +were shunted duly by a small engine. Winches +clattered and wrenched, the clanking engine bustled +almost ludicrously up and down the wharf, and all +seemed in a great hurry, but the hurry was only on +the surface. The yellow river, the coal-dust, the +glaring sun, the dockside streets and warehouses and +of course the eternal mosquito began to play upon me. +My body was in pain from the innumerable bites and +want of rest, and generally I was in as low spirits as I +could be.</p> + +<p>The ship was daily haunted by newsboys, fruit-sellers, +and others. The news was difficult to discover +from the queer columns of short cabled messages, and +yet we never sent the newsboy away unless, perhaps, +our only means was in English coppers. Sixpences +he (not unwisely) was willing to take. The fruit-sellers +gave better value for sixpence, even though +their open panniers seemed always liable to the +predatory paws of the water police. The shoemaker +with his motor tyre put pieces of it upon my shoes, +grunting out a satisfaction with the job which I +hardly shared. A thin gentleman with furs, puzzle +boxes, and other cheap-jack gear was not much called +upon though called at.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97'></a>97</span>Two Englishmen came also, sellers of furs; one, +of my own Division in France. They were very +warm in their praise of Buenos Aires, and besides +bringing good furs with them they brought good +spirits.</p> + +<p>Football flourished. In red-hot sunlight, we met +the team of another ship. Grim determination was +in the game and its afterthoughts; and by a happy +accident my foot scored the first goal of our victory. +It was counted unto me for righteousness. The form +of address “Passenger” acquired a respectful significance. +There was immediately arranged a return +match. But</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p>Antres et vous fontaines!</p> +</div> + +<p>The hart desireth the waterbrooks; and so did we. +Again, on such a summer afternoon, we went at it, +upon the field we had hired for the ordeal. This time +we lost, but still the blood of the team was up; the +<i>Bonadventure’s</i> fair name was in jeopardy. Again +there was immediately arranged a return match for +the following evening. We lost, and it was hotter +still. This nevertheless cooled the ardour of the +footballers, and did not finally ruin the reputation of S.S. <i>Bonadventure</i>.</p> + +<p>The evening form of this game continued upon the +original ground, but my connection, like Mead’s, soon +declined. The main cause was that the ball, or +Ball–its importance aboard requires the capital letter–flew +off one evening as usual into the dock, but +there by some conspiracy of wind and current sailed +along at a merry rate until it was carried under the +framework of piers upon which the coal wharf was +built–a noisome place, a labyrinth of woodwork. If +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98'></a>98</span> +it stayed here, it was generally out of sight and beyond +reach; if it was swirled out, it would go on out, +into the middle stream, and doubtless into the Atlantic. +We groped along the filthy piles of the tunnel, +and the darkness was imminent; when the ball +suddenly appeared, decidedly going out into the +middle stream. At this crisis, Mead with a war-cry +plumped into the evil-looking water and brought off a +notable rescue.</p> + +<p>Cricket would have seemed the more seasonable +sport. Twice Mead and myself joined the Mission +XI for grand matches in the suburbs, and said to +ourselves, “In the midst of football we are in cricket”; +but twice we met with disappointment, the rain +choosing the wrong days altogether.</p> + +<p>I had naturally observed silence over my journalistic +life of the remote past, but one evening at the British +Bar I was asked, was it not true that I was a relation +of Kipling? and at the Mission “your book” was +several times alluded to. It was, I think, taken for +granted that being a penman I should be <i>writing up</i> +my adventures, as though I were on a voyage to +Betelgueux or Sirius. I was asked to recite some of +my poems, also, by a lady, but I was churl enough to +ask her pardon on that score. She evidently felt +this the basest ingratitude. “Why? Why not give +us a recitation? I’m sure you can.” I tried to +explain that my attempts were frequently, almost +invariably, of a meditative cast of mind, not suitable +for the platform. At this she sniffed and I felt that +my explanation was disgraceful in the highest degree.</p> + +<p>Entertainment was not lacking there at the Mission. +It was a hearty place. One evening Tich, the pride +of the <i>Bonadventure</i>, who in his uniform cut a most +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99'></a>99</span> +splendid figure, went into the ring and laid about him +magnificently. Or there might be a concert, local +talent obliging. A passenger ship’s varieties drew a +large attendance both from the ships and the shore; +there was much funny man, much jazz band, much +conjuring, much sentimental singing–in fact plenty +of everything which is expected at popular concerts, +and every one departed with reflected pride. Mead +and myself, however, quarrelled over the amount +which I subscribed to the whip-round. It was that +or nothing–I had but one coin; and its removal +robbed us of our wonted refreshment. We walked +somewhat moodily down the road to the docks, +unsoothed by their thick coarse greenery, which the +night filled with the incessant buzzing of crickets +and a loud piping whistle perhaps from a sort of +cricket also, while here and there a fire-fly went +along with his glow-worm light.</p> + +<p>We tried the cinematograph’s recreations, once or +twice. How strong is habit! We could not settle +down to these performances of single films; nor to +the box-like halls. A cowboy film of eight acts +comes back to my recollection from those evenings. +It was full of miracles. The operator believed, like +the hero, in lightning speed. The hero on horseback +was far too speedy for the villain who dragged off +the heroine into his car and did his best to break +records. These heroes will one day assume the +proportions, in the dark world, of the pleiosaurus in +natural history.</p> + +<p>But we had our reward. In a more expensive +theatre, we found <i>The Kid</i>. We had come out +to see a much trumpeted film of a bullfight–Mead +for one set of reasons, I for another; but it was of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100'></a>100</span> +yesterday, and we had no difficulty in consoling +ourselves. One Chaplin, we acknowledged, was +better than many toreadors.</p> + +<p>And then, we had a glimpse of the Carnival. In +our wonted quarter of the town, that where the +seafaring man mostly rested, it took the form of some +processions of hobbledehoys and urchins, beating as +their kind do on drums and things like drums. The +next evening we took the same dreary cobblestone +walk as usual, but did not limit ourselves to that. +We took a tram, indeed, to more fashionable haunts +and at last came into the great Avenida and all its +garish illuminations; its paper ribbons were as +multi-coloured as the lights, and, flung from the +upper storeys of the hotels, in some places they were +thick enough to form a fantastic and absurd cascade. +Here the Carnival was in mid sprout. We got what +we came for–a diversion.</p> + +<p>The pavements, broader here than in the generality +of the streets we knew, were chock-a-block with folks, +the cafés overflowing, the towering hotels gleaming +with bright dresses on every balcony, and all this +was the accompaniment of the gorgeous procession +that moved slowly along the highway. Its vehicles +of every kind, but their kind hidden from passing +observation by their curtains and festoons of flowers, +trooped along in the unreal glare. Here, ladies of +most aristocratic air came by, with the blackest of +masks above the whitest of countenances; there was +a girl in the dress of a bull-fighter, driving her own +light carriage; next, a set of laughing “gipsies” +apparently advertising a brand of cigarettes; then, +a collection of men with Cyrano disguises and attempting +Cyrano humour to the gods–</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101'></a>101</span>All these and more came flocking.</p> +</div> + +<p>But the privilege of gazing unrebuked upon the +profusion of beauty, upon raven hair and great deep-burning +eyes, upon the pale cheeks of wintry moons, +the privilege of hearing the disjointed music of the +fu-fu bands and the verbal crackers of harlequins of +the moment, was not without its points of misery. +The pavements represented a scrum on the largest +scale, in the forefront of one battering ram whereof +Mead and myself were securely wedged in for an +hour or two. In this state of things, the usual +individual turned round to ask Mead “who he was +pushing?”–the sense of his remarks being obvious +though couched in another tongue. Unable to move +the arms, and scarcely free to flicker the eyelashes, +we were borne compressedly and gradually on, until at +last we were beyond the main pleasure-ground; by +this time even Mead had had enough of pleasures +which we had noticed others than Englishmen taking +seriously. We took our ease in our inn, and reflected.</p> + +<p>The newspapers reported that the Carnival was +declining year by year. Perhaps the reporter, like +ourselves, had corns and was caught in the scrimmage.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102'></a>102</span><a id='link_17'></a>XVII</h2> + +<p>I borrowed a Shakespeare from the second chaplain +at the Mission to escape from what seemed the dullness +of our stay in South Basin, Buenos Aires. Mead +had taken over my own copy of the Tragedies, and by +this time had most of <i>Hamlet</i> and <i>Macbeth</i> by heart, +so that our conversation frequently ran by tags. +Of Bicker we saw little. Highly favoured, he would +depart on most afternoons to the English suburb, +where he had friends; and it was impossible not to +regard him, as he regarded himself, as a man of +superior rank, who had personal friends in this town. +Once or twice in the evenings, nevertheless, he came +with us to our accustomed table in that convenient +but inglorious place the British Bar; and while +there, he did his best to annoy one of the waiters with +the oft-repeated slur, “Yah, Patagonio,” or “You +b― Patagonian Indian,” or “Patagonio no bonio.” +The fellow bore it at first with grinning patience; +but one evening suddenly danced with fury, and +rushing out summoned the greasy little proprietor, +who came in scowling and snarling, took stock of us–and +went out again. The alleged Patagonian was +after this understood to be meditating a fearful +revenge.</p> + +<p>At evening sometimes the autumn sun, going down, +a golden ball, behind the great buildings, and dimmed +with a calm transition in the distance of that time +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103'></a>103</span> +of day, removed my mind entirely from these and +similar matters. An incomplete state of recollection, +the more delightful to me from the strangeness of +my temporary lodging, a presence felt but understood, +a trouble in the pool whose surface bore the evidence +of neither windwave’s running V nor bubble subtly +appearing, took hold of me. Unable to remain aware +of this confused echo long, without endeavouring to +resolve it into communicable notes, I would soon find +myself counting up memories as plainly as the fellow +on the other side of the water was tallying the brown +hides discharged into river barges by the paddle-wheeler. +It was this verging upon a vision, unknown +but longed for, and this inevitable falling back to +known fact, which perhaps depressed me and made +the time pass all too slowly here.</p> + +<p>The rattle of the cranes, so often interrupted, was +all the more welcome; the news of progress began to +assume a better look; the incidents of life in dock, +from the angry officiousness of the wharf manager, +a crude foreigner, to the arrival of passenger boats +and the swarm of gay-coloured families to and from +them, became worth attention again. Food, so +interesting at sea, lately become a burden, was reinstated; +boiled eggs for instance were welcomed, after +a régime of steaks, by the whole saloon. The whole +saloon–no; Bicker, the man about town, refused his +with a criticism, likening them to plasticine. With +his put-and-take top, the youthful-spirited chaplain +came more often, and often expressed his regret that +we were soon to be away.</p> + +<p>Orders were not yet forthcoming. It was feared, +and often urged upon me with reference to my late +troubles, that the <i>Bonadventure</i> would be sent up the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104'></a>104</span> +river to Rosario. I made a great mistake about +Rosario and other possible destinations up the river, +their names suggesting ancient Spanish romantic +traditions to me: I mentioned my feelings to the +assembled saloon. All the romance there, it seemed, +was hidden behind a cloud of patriarchal mosquitoes.</p> + +<p>The discharge of coal was at last over and done. +The day following, Hosea sent for me and told me +that the ship would shift at two, and perhaps–for +all he knew–straight out to sea. I told him I should +not be clinging to the stones of Buenos Aires at that +hour.</p> + +<p>But it was not our fate to depart altogether that +day. Instead of going out into the open water, when +at three the pilot and the tugs brought the <i>Bonadventure</i> +out from her Stygian berth at Wilson’s +Wharf and down to the outer port, we now turned +into an arm of the docks called Riachuelo. There, +between a steel sailing-ship which gave no sign of +life and a great black mechanical ferry or transporter, +and further–there was no doubt about this–beside a +guano works, we were tied up for a time as yet undefined.</p> + +<p>The change was, partly on account of the neighbouring +industry, “uncertain if for bale or balm.” I +felt that we might even miss the lively sight of the +passenger boats coming and going, and all their +gilded press of friends and acquaintances about the +landing-places; their tiers of bright lamps at night +rounding the bend between us and the Roads. Perhaps +the youths would no longer come by with their +ship’s stores of macaroni, their jars of wine and +panniers of onions and other vegetables; nor the +lighters, with their crews glaring in unwashed and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105'></a>105</span> +unchallenged independence in the whole world’s face, +and their yellow mongrels scampering up and down +the decks. The British Bar with the Patagonian +Indian and the giant but amicable cockroaches would +be too far away. However, we had the prospect of +other monotonous distractions if not those. For +there were evidence of benefit; green swampy groves, +a sort of common with ragged horses at feed, and +farther off the irregular line of a landscape not unlike +summer’s horizon, gave the eye a pleasant change. +Football would now be possible on grass and not a +dust-heap. Sailor-town was on the opposite bank–a +miscellany of ship’s chandlers’ offices, gin palaces, +untidy trams, and nondescript premises.</p> + +<p>The gangway was lowered, the donkeyman was +seen at once going ashore with his mandoline, and +we ourselves of the football persuasion followed with +the Football. We returned in time to see the +steward’s patience nominally rewarded with a small +yellow catfish, who showed the greatest wrath at the +trick which had been played on him, stiffening his +poisonous fin and actually barking.</p> + +<p>The next morning, despite the odour of the guano, +was a better one than those in South Basin. For all +its mud, the river looked cheerful; its many small +craft, as yellow as vermilion or as green as paint +could make them, lying quiet or passing by, caught +the early sun. Even the dredgers’ barges, with their +hue of Thiepval in November, showed the agreeable +activities of a new day, and breakfast.</p> + +<p>But we were not to be long in Riachuelo. About +midday it became known that the <i>Bonadventure</i> was +to leave before evening for Bahia Blanca, a three +days’ journey to the south. The further orders, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106'></a>106</span> +what cargo was to be received, and where it was to +be delivered, were as yet withheld. Phillips, the +chief engineer, was disappointed at this departure–his +son would have been able to meet him in town +within a day or two. To leave a message for him +in charge of the Mission, he proposed that I should +go with him in the afternoon, and that I was happy +to do.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, awaiting dinner, we strolled along the +waterside. It was sultry and glaring. We passed +shipping of all sorts and conditions, old junk, discarded +masts, boilers eaten through with rust, anchors +imbedded in the ground, even a torpedo-boat gone +to ruin, nameless; saw an incredibly old man with +his beard done in a knot, whittling away at a piece +of wood in the sun, tribes of mongrel dogs, and the +casual population of the tin town which rambled +here drowsy and malodorous, down to the water’s +edge. The purple trumpet-like flowers that climbed +the ragged woodwork seemed not more gay, nevertheless, +than the young men and women who crowded +to and from the transporter between this shipping +parish and Buenos Aires.</p> + +<p>From Buenos Aires itself, what but the hastiest +impression could I take away with me? Melancholy +it was to me to find so little apparent survival of the +town as it must have been in its first centuries. My +last walk did not altogether revise my picture of bar-tobacconist-bar-tobacconist; +of powdered Venuses, +over-dressed Adonises; of shops without display, +receding obscurely; of cinematograph theatres +crudely decorated with notices of rank buckjumping +“dramas”; of innumerable tramways, here, there +and everywhere; of green sunny courtyards at the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107'></a>107</span> +end of passages between dismal shuttered façades; +of trees with drooping foliage before flat roofs with +flimsy chimneys–mere drain-pipes–at the top of +high white dead walls; of bonneted policemen +with their hands on their swords; of boys teasing +horses; of whizzing taxis, and dray-horses fighting +for a start on the inimical cobbles; of pavements +suitable for tight-rope walkers; of the power of +money; of living for the present, or the day after +to-morrow; of a straw-hat existence. But I must +admit that my scantiest notions of a town refer in +temper to the quality of its second-hand bookshops.</p> + +<p>So then, the ship being under orders to leave at +four, soon after five the port authorities held a sort +of roll-call amidships, and the pilots and the tugs +arrived. The port authorities consisted of a young +officer who looked likely to trip himself up with his +beautiful sword, a lanky humorist, with sergeant’s +chevrons, at his heels, and one or two other attendants. +Soon after these vigilants had gone down the ladder +again, the <i>Bonadventure</i> began to move, and the bags +of guano were a tyranny that is overpast. That +channel into which I had been pleased to see the +<i>Bonadventure</i> come I now watched her leave without +remorse. The dredgers fall behind our course, the +fishing-boats, and the perches of the sea-eagles. We +met a breeze, surprisingly strong, which made even +these slothful waters choppy. The sun went out in +a colder sky, beyond the outlines of the great chimneys +and transporters; and presently a line of +dwindling lights, surmounted by one or two more +conspicuous, stood for Buenos Aires. Meantime the +wind blew hard and loud. When the first pilot went +to make his way home, the tug coming up for him +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108'></a>108</span> +was flung against the sides of the ship two or three +times, and he was obliged to jump from his swaying +rope ladder, “judging the time.” We ran on, with +many red and yellow lights flashing around our track. +The taste of coal-dust, let alone the feel of it as a +garment, made me wish the wind an early good night.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109'></a>109</span><a id='link_18'></a>XVIII</h2> + +<p>There were differences of opinion about the precise +distance between Buenos Aires and Bahia Blanca, in +which it seemed the authority of the steward was not +accepted. Travelling light, however, the <i>Bonadventure</i> +seemed little concerned about fifty miles +either way. A current assisted in this turn of speed.</p> + +<p>It was enjoyable to be out of sight of land once +more, in a morning coolness, with seagulls piping in +our wake; although they were yellowish waters that +were rolling by. The second pilot went down to the +motor boat due to take him home; the blue peter +was hauled down when he had gone; and we hurried +south. A dove came by, alighted; presumably our +course lay at no great distance from the coast: a sail, +a smoke-trail here and there dappled the circling scene. +The sailors and apprentices set to, cleaning the holds +in preparation for a cargo of grain–a black job. +Bucketful after bucketful was flung over the side, +the wind playfully carrying off the murky clouds. I +washed clothes at a safe distance.</p> + +<p>It was at this time or near it that an addition to +my daily course was made. So long as the <i>Bonadventure</i> +was at sea, the ship’s officers received cocoa +and sandwiches by way of supper. To this edible +privilege I could not imagine that I had the slightest +claim, nor in fact was I anxious to be elected; but +when the steward out of his magnanimity conferred +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110'></a>110</span> +it upon me I naturally received it with thanks.</p> + +<p>The cocoa indeed was not to be lightly considered +when ten o’clock found me, as it mostly did, with +Mead on his night watch. The first night after we +had left the mouth of the Plate, his mind was full of +one matter. Before we had been released from +Wilson’s Wharf, acting on the advice of the vendor, +he had bought a fifth share in a lottery ticket. With +this qualification, he began to paint his future in all +the colours of £1,166–his possible, or as he wished +to be assured, his probable, harvest. A small schooner, +in the enchanted atmosphere of his pipe, seemed +already to own him master; she would trade for +long years of prosperity in South Sea islands, where +uncultivated fruits and beauties abound. While we +agreed on the plan, the moon went down; multitudes +of stars shone out, and meteors at moments ran down +the sky. A broad glow to starboard revealed the +nearness of the coast. Everything was most still, +except perhaps Mead’s spirit. There might be some +hitch. But no, he felt his luck was in; he was sure, +something told him that he carried the winning +number.</p> + +<p>The day’s entries in my diary now began thus, or +nearly: “Need I say it again–One mosquito, etc., +but I killed him; then, one mosquito, etc.” The +persistence of these self-satisfied hovering devils was +puzzling, for the mornings dawned almost bitterly +fresh, and the breeze was always awake. Its direction +had now laid, during the night, a carpet of glittering +coal-dust along the passage outside the door; and the +day being Sunday, which should by all precedent be +marked by an increased radiance in the outward as +well as in the inward man, it was impossible to keep +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111'></a>111</span> +clean. For the inward man, I once again took refuge +in Young’s <i>Night Thoughts</i>, which, despite the disapproval +of Mr. Masefield’s Dauber, I will maintain +to give room and verge enough to annotate, parody, +wilfully miscomprehend, skip, doze, and indulge what +trains of thought whether ethical, fanciful, or reminiscent.</p> + +<p>A gentler air, a bluer sea, a sandy coast in view. +There was something lyrical about the “dirty ship” +as with the buoyancy of her cargoless holds she +fleeted to the south. Mead, his future resplendent +with £1,166 and its South Sea bubble, seemed to feel +this rhythmical impulse. Every now and then, in +his consultations, he would break forth into singing, +but seldom more than a fragment at a time; now it +was “Farewell and adieu to you, bright Spanish +Ladies”–a grand old tune–now “Six men dancing +on the dead man’s chest.” But most, he gave in +honour of his native Australia a ballad of a monitory +sort with a wild yet sweet refrain. It began</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p>I was born in the city of Sydney,</p> +<p> And I was an apprentice bound,</p> +<p>And many’s the good old time I’ve had</p> +<p> In that dear old Southern town.</p> +</div> + +<p>The apprentice fell in with a dark lady–indeed “she +came tripping right into his way.” It was an +unfortunate encounter. He became her “darling +flash boy.” He could readily put the case against +her when, as receiver of stolen goods, he had served +some years in jail; and then, like the author of +<i>George Barnwell</i>, he addressed apprentices on the +subject:</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p>So all young men take a warning and</p> +<p>Beware of that black velvet tie.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112'></a>112</span>But yet, and here was the charm of the ballad, and +the token of his entanglement by Neæra’s hair, ever +and anon came the burden</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p>For her eyes they shone like the diamonds,</p> +<p> I thought her a Queen of the land,</p> +<p>And the hair that hung over her shoulders was</p> +<p> Tied up with a black velvet band.</p> +</div> + +<p>When Mead later on gave me a copy of this song, +which I shall not forget, duly set out in “cantos,” he +was good enough to ornament it with a little picture +of the black bow as tailpiece.</p> + +<p>The heat became very strong, and as the day +declined, a great cloud-bank rose up out to sea, and +the air settled to that stillness in which the fall of the +ripples from the side sounds most insistent. Dark +came on, and from two arches or caverns of smouldering +twilight under the extremities of that mighty +cloud the lightnings burst; lightnings in whose +general wide waft of brightness intense white wreaths +suddenly lived and withered, branches of fire stretched +forth and were gone; while in the opposite heaven +“like a dying lady,” went the horned moon.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the <i>Bonadventure</i> not slacking her +unusual speed came to a lightship; then (for this was +a pilot station) the engines thrashed up the water as +she manœuvred for the pilot’s most comfortable +approach. The boatmen came rowing him lustily out +to us; our rope ladder was lowered–at these moments +I was sensible of a sort of proud anxiety on the part +of all aboard, that such a detail should be carried out +with all despatch–and up he came. And after him, +a rope was asked for, and sent down; up came a great +stringful of fish, gleaming like the sea under the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113'></a>113</span> +moon; and once more the rope went down, and a +collection of jars which were at once thought to contain +wine was hauled on board. Then, from the boat +“Finish!” but she did not depart, making fast to +the <i>Bonadventure</i>. She circling about the lightship, +at length brought her companion within a stone’s +throw. Then the boat was cut adrift, and we went +on our way towards a line of buoys whose flashes lit +up the expanse ahead.</p> + +<p>We came now close by the misty lights of a town +named Puerto Militar and further on those of Ingeniero +White, the little port of Bahia Blanca to which the +<i>Bonadventure</i> was actually bound, began to beckon. +About eleven the anchors were let go, and the pilot +retired to sleep; but I still stayed with Mead, regarding +dully the dull lights of our surroundings, and +consuming cocoa, and blessing the exhalation of the +continent which had first met me at sea some weeks +ago. Already fishing, the steward leaned over the +rail close by; he had often painted the angling at +Bahia Blanca in enthusiastic colours. However, he +seemed to catch nothing.</p> + +<p>By this the moon, that had grown almost a giantess +as she stooped down the horizon, and had reddened +like a glowing coal to the last almost, was dwindling. +The orb became a beacon dying on a hill; then +dropped below the sky. The lightnings over the +quiet sea had almost ceased.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114'></a>114</span><a id='link_19'></a>XIX</h2> + +<p>I slept heavily, and when I got up, the <i>Bonadventure</i> +had moved into the channel towards Ingeniero +White, and was lying at anchor outside that place. +The scenery about us was of pleasing ugliness, worthy +of George Crabbe’s poetical painting. To seaward +there lay long stretches of mud, or banks of a sort +of grass–long layers of brown and green ending +at the frontier of a blue-grey rainy sky; and the +land was low, featureless (save for a mountain height +in the hazy interior) and dark. Close to our mooring +was the assemblage of motley huts and tenements, +galvanized iron roofs, tall chimneys, and more +notably the grain elevators, under which several other +steamers were lying. Above the salt marshes a +rainbow touched the clouds, and too soon the sun +was pouring upon everything a dazzling sultry +heat.</p> + +<p>At breakfast the fish which the pilot had brought +aboard as a kindly offering during the night were +eaten, curried. This mode of serving them displeased +the Saloon. The steward, affecting to be in a philosophic +doze in his lair, could not fail to have heard +such scathing remarks as these:</p> + +<p>“The nicest fish I’ve had down here.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, spoiled.”</p> + +<p>“Wasted.”</p> + +<p>“Why the devil must they go and camouflage it?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115'></a>115</span>“If it had been high we’d have had it neat.”</p> + +<p>“Must have curry and rice on Monday morning. +Mustn’t go outside the routine.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you see, if they started on the wrong note +on Monday they wouldn’t be able to pick up the tune +for the rest of the week.”</p> + +<p>“O, it’s easy. Steak, steak, steak.”</p> + +<p>We hurried our breakfast amid these criticisms, +as the port authority was expected. Towards nine +o’clock, all hands being assembled amidships, his +launch came to the foot of the gangway. Eight +sailors in white uniform rowed this launch. He +divested himself of his sword, came up, and went +inside Hosea’s quarters to “talk things over”; whereupon, +the parade broke up. The next event was, +we changed our mooring. As we passed to the +new tether, which was among several tramps as +ladylike as ourselves, I had my first experience +of the groaning, screeching and gasping noise which +the machinery of a dredger can make, as its buckets +come round on the endless chain and empty themselves +into the barge alongside. I wonder these +contrivances were not introduced during the Passchendaele +operations. They would have served two +purposes, that of keeping a good depth of water for +the infantry to swim through; and that of demoralizing +the enemy.</p> + +<p>We remained only a few minutes in this new +position. Then we moved into a dock, lined with +warehouses as they appeared, under whose grey tin +roofs were stacked bags of grain in large profusion. +With much shouting and manipulating of ropes, +we got in, behind the steamer <i>Caxambu</i>; alongside +a framework of piles. On these, even the less accessible +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116'></a>116</span> +slanting timbers, many a ship’s name scrawled +in black or red paint, and often followed by the +date of the call, addressed the new-comer’s eye. +In these inscriptions the S’s, B’s, D’s, and 9’s, had +a tendency to be reversed. I thought that the +exotic poets and others who deny their readers capital +letters, apostrophes and so forth might here find +another inspiration. The medley of names included +such as the <i>Trebarthan</i>, the <i>King Arthur</i>, the <i>Alf</i>, +the <i>Olive</i>, the <i>Bilbao</i>. And the <i>Keats</i>; why <i>Keats</i>? +Apart from this mystery, I could not help contrasting +many of the names with those of the figure-head +days, and like the posy of a ring, some of them +came into my mind, from my reading, the <i>John +and Judith</i>, <i>Charming Nancy</i>, <i>Love and Unity</i>, +<i>Lancashire Witch</i>.</p> + +<p>Here, the heat seemed to redouble, and the flies +to bite harder accordingly. For some time nothing +much happened. The Captain, after being visited +by the doctor, ship’s chandler and others, but not +such a swarm as on our previous berthing, went +ashore, leaving Bicker, who prided himself upon +his mathematical faculty, to wrestle with the problems +of the Customs manifest. I myself had handed +over trench stores; this looked a worse job, and +there were the familiar dilemmas of one thing with +different names.</p> + +<p>The ship was not here, it soon showed, to take +her time. Loading began after dinner. A leather +band or rather gutter working on rollers was lifted +out from the wharf over each of several holds, and +a spout fixed at its extremity; the gang in charge +spread sacking under the feeding band and directed +the spout as they wished. Then the machinery +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117'></a>117</span> +behind began to drone, and the grain, like a gliding +brook, to travel along the leather band; whence, +at the overturn, it leapt into the spout which directed +its descent into the hold, while a sort of idle snowstorm +of chaff and draff glistened thick in the sunlight. +Many heads looked over the rails to see this +process at first, but there was a sameness about it +and the heads quickly found other occupation. +Presently I went to look at the activities behind +the scenes, where a gang was taking bags of grain +from a railway truck and emptying them through a +grating into another travelling conduit, which duly +under the flooring of the building bore the wheat +to the automatic machines. There, it seemed to +my inept wish to learn, it was amassed until a certain +weight was registered, and that point reached the +heap was flung forward into the feeder which ran +up to the spout over our hold. Before the yellow +current arrived there, it had been sampled at intervals +by a boy who squatted beside, dipping a horn-shaped +can on the end of a stick into it, and filling +thereby small labelled sacks convenient to him.</p> + +<p>The Brazilian steamer ahead of us was receiving +the grain in bags, which looked oddly like pigs +asleep as they were hurried along the endless band. +On this steamer, the <i>Caxambu</i>, real live pigs and +sheep were routing about over the forecastle. I was +told that she was an ex-German. Anyway, though +in déshabille, she was a handsome ship. Her bell +was the most resonant; the <i>Bonadventure’s</i> was +known still more surely for a thin tinkler when that +gong rang.</p> + +<p>For the settlement beyond, it was not conspicuous. +The spires of Bahia Blanca showed up white some +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118'></a>118</span> +few miles inland; the nearer scene was one of tin +roofs, of railway coaches and wagons, small muddy +decks and mud flats. Naturally the steward was +fishing. But nothing was biting. He stood pensively +gazing into heaven, even holding the line listlessly, +when the third mate having collected a good attendance +crept up behind him as quiet as a cat and jerked +the line with the hungry violence of a monster, +contriving also to make his retreat out of sight +before the aged angler had quite decided that he +was <i>not</i> going to catch a huge bass. This heartless +deception was very popular. Something was necessary +to while away the evening despite its bright +array of dewy-lighted clouds, which suited the +coolness of the air. The grumble of the machinery +gave place to “Cock Robin” and other classic +opportunities for bawling; and cards were brought +out.</p> + +<p>The next day, cold enough for every one, and +proving that the English climate is not alone in its +uncertain habits, went on quietly. The party who +brought the sacks of grain to the door of the railway +truck, the man who there at singular speed cut +away the string from the mouths of the sacks, the +lads who swept all loose grain from the truck and +its neighbourhood–all were working to load us as +if their lives depended on it. Actually, no doubt, +this was the case. The <i>Bonadventure</i> ceased to tower +aloft out of the water.</p> + +<p>Bicker, Mead and the passenger-purser passed +the evening in the village. We went in and out +of shops in a casual manner. There was one whose +contents were sufficiently varied for the sailors’ +fancy. On one wall hung a large collection of crudely +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119'></a>119</span> +cured pelts, the fur of wild cats, foxes, and other +animals. From the ceiling hung, unpitied, many +canaries imprisoned in yellow cages; under the +counters were displayed baskets made of turtle +shells, lined with pink sateen. Cigarettes of all +nationalities, boot polishes of uncertain price and +utility, and in the window a regiment of notes and +coins advertising the money-changer’s department, +caught my eye. There were even old books. As +we were leaving two sailors entered bearing a cage +wrapped in paper. They accosted the fat and +greasy shopkeeper abruptly.</p> + +<p>“Canary eh? died ’smornin’ eh?”</p> + +<p>(This “eh?” was the mainstay of our Anglo-Argentine +intercourse.)</p> + +<p>“Ah, Ah, no give monjay!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, mucho plenty monjay.”</p> + +<p>The question in short was, what about giving us +our money back?–but we could not stop long +enough to see the result. Further along, children’s +sandals were ranged in a window. Mead thought +that he would shine in a pair like them; but the +shopkeeper thought his inquiry for sandals size 9 +a good joke.</p> + +<p>At this stage, when Mead emerged, I was very +sorry to have to call his attention to a board in +the window, which in his concentration on the +sandals he had overlooked. It was a board giving +the numbers (announced that day) of the winning +lottery tickets. None of these numbers coincided +with that owned by Mead.</p> + +<p>The disappointment quite naturally led us to the +refreshment room at the station and kept us there +until the hour of closing. The angry Mead in some +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120'></a>120</span> +measure became reconciled to the injustice which +he had suffered, and we all enjoyed the friendliness +of the waiters. These, not being over busy, played +the fool, except one who behind the bar sat with +pen and ink and a folio blank-book laboriously +copying an English exercise on the ancient pattern: +Have you seen my glove?–Yes, I have seen your +glove, &c. One endeavoured to persuade us that +he was a Russian, and feigned a horrid interest in a +news paragraph about Lenin. The other indulged +in an anti-French speech, with gestures. “La +Liberté!” he jeered, at the same time grasping +vigorously in all directions.</p> + +<p>Our nights were disturbed by mosquitoes, not so +ferocious as formerly, and cats. Aboard, it still +seemed cold; but ashore there was little breeze, +and my walks round the town were warm work. +The outskirts of this ramshackle place were dreary, +but I liked them better than city streets. They +formed a loose encampment of tin, or plaster, or +matchboard, in which one would perhaps notice +most the open drains, the chickens, goats (some +of them of most sheepish appearance), cows, pigs, +cats, dogs of the silly sort, sunflowers, and gentlemen +in blue cotton trousers, about the thresholds. +Grumble as you may at militarism, most army camps +would have been better favoured in some respects: +since here, despite the prospects of mud suggested +by the dust of the present season, no hut seemed +to have a raised approach, whether stone causeway +or duck-walk. I never walked into Bahia Blanca, +though not far short of its tall spires, but found +these habitations a sufficient view; the way back +to the <i>Bonadventure</i> might be over a moorish level, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121'></a>121</span> +thickly grown over with yellow flowering weed, and +all sorts of drouthy “flora of the marsh.” Marsh, +however, it was not, the soil being thoroughly baked +and cracked. Here were a few birds, that seemed +to me the thrushes of the place; a few butterflies; +beetles, lying dead here and there; lizards in greater +number. But the fields hereabouts had all a solitary +look. Often the track was inches deep in dust.</p> + +<p>On one of my walks, the wireless operator being +with me, we were seen going up from the wharf +by the ship’s carpenter, who, it afterwards came +out, had tried to attract our attention by shouting. +The reason for his attempt is interesting. He was, +in fact, at that time in “calaboosh,” having been +haled thither during the night, according to a prophecy +of Mead’s. Looking too long on the wine (three +glasses, by his reckoning) and the beer (one innocent +glass), he had succeeded in arriving abreast of the +Brazilian next to us. At this point, he had the +misfortune to lose the way to the <i>Bonadventure</i>; +and presently for his safety the police took him to +the cells. Thence, the next afternoon, Chips was +released, and that without even a fine. The winter +wind is not so unkind as this cadaverous man’s +ingratitude to the gendarmes for their kindly act. +Asked about it, he complained in loud and bitter +terms that such things should be, and</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p> with swinish phrase</p> +<p>Soiled their addition.</p> +</div> + +<p>This episode appeared to please the mate, Meacock, +in no small degree. He recounted other imprisonments; +told of black sheep among crews newly +arrived from Sing Sing and similar haunts, for whose +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122'></a>122</span> +arrest a warrant was always handed to the police +as soon as the ship arrived in port; described the +difficulty of getting these incorrigibles from the +ship to the wharf, the police having no sanction +to touch them on the ship; and how the Brazilian +police got the upper hand of bruisers towering above +them by lambasting them with the flat of their +swords.</p> + +<p>Lethargy and grain dust seemed to hang in our +air together. The exploration of Ingeniero White as +an amusement became less liked as time went on, and +as sometimes the dull sky broke in a drizzle of rain. +One hatch was filled with wheat; the gang trimmed +it quickly; and the loading of the other hatches +continued apace, so that our going to sea again +looked close at hand. The sailors and apprentices +with pots of paint were perched at various points +above and beside the ship; and it was no great +surprise to me when one of the boys, much given to +recreation, suddenly appeared in a waterlogged +state.</p> + +<p>The town was not without its Mission to Sailors. +It depended upon the energies of a very small English +community, of course, but they kept up a comfortable +room, where dancing and singing were entered upon +in the evenings; the standards of pastime required +by Bicker and Mead, however, were not reached. +It pleased them to drift about; to call at the refreshment +room of the station and throw dice for drinks, +to prowl about the town with an independent air. +The funds at the disposal of this party were dwindling. +It was therefore proposed to take to the vile syrup +known as <i>caña</i> instead of whisky, and an ingenious +logic was discovered in favour of the plan, apart +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123'></a>123</span> +from the great cheapness of the caña. As thus: +Even at B.A. (did you but know it) you often had +turpentine sold you for whisky; in fact, here, if +you asked for whisky, ten to one that what you +received was caña at four times its proper price. +Better ask for caña straight away. This reasoning +in favour of an adopted plan could not be answered +except by sudden wealth. These driftings were +mainly spent in wondering what to do next. (The +only real prospect was, to get back to the ship.) +If any decision was made, it was a picturesque +one. For instance, the town being abed, we went +into a general stores where there was a light showing +the proprietor about to close. Somewhat to his +surprise, and after the first few moments to his +discontent, supper was taken, dog biscuits and cream +cheese, washed down with yellow caña–a more +inflammatory distillation even than the white. And +so home.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124'></a>124</span><a id='link_20'></a>XX</h2> + +<p>We did not get away so quickly as had been thought, +and as every one seemed to wish. Heavy skies +came on, giving the slack waters a leaden look. The +air, though it was not hot, was close; and the fine +dust from the grain which carpeted all the decks +began to sit heavy on the lungs. Among the business +outstanding remained that of stowing 7,500 bags +in the bunker hatch–slower work, clearly, than +the loading in bulk which had until now been the +method with the <i>Bonadventure</i>. Bicker and Mead, +as they supervised the trimming of hatches that +had been filled, wore a melancholy look, nor was the +entry at breakfast of two young men from the Customs, +though pleasant acquaintances, considered a relief. +If clouds disappeared, and left the day like a +furnace, there was every facility for doing nothing +at all. Even at evening the cabins were filled +with tepid air and flies: and most of us might be +found leaning over the rails in silence, watching +sunset’s orange red colour to the prime and die +away again in the sky and the water below it, scarcely +marked with a ripple; and then the moon riding +high above our bridge, itself not unexalted, not +ungraceful by its proximity to the warehouse. In +such a night comes Mead, and a consultation ends in +my approaching Mouldytop the steward with +respectful petition for ship’s biscuits. These soon +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125'></a>125</span> +refreshed in my mind Solomon’s choosing a dish of +herbs and love over a stalled ox and hatred.</p> + +<p>The time now arrived when I was honourably +appointed to a job of work. I felt proud indeed +when Meacock explained it to me. It was, to keep +count of the number of bags of grain shipped for the +bunker hatch and another one aft. The tallyman +employed by the merchants kept his record, shouting +out his “Una, dos, tres” until each tally of bags +was complete; the ship’s representative looked on +at the descending bags and made his oblique strokes +in his book accordingly. This work in effect was +not so simple as it sounds; sometimes after a pause +the bags would be let loose suddenly and in quick +succession, nor moreover was it possible to question +the other tallyman at the moments of disagreement, +since he spoke no English and I no Spanish.</p> + +<p>This delivery of some thousands of bags was to +be completed in the course of a day, but was not. +The arrangement of shoots for the bags to travel +down was as neat as a scenic railway: they slid +down one, were deflected by a fixed bag at the foot +of it to another shoot at right angles to it, and so +on down to the caverns and the packers. The +day’s work ended, but some thousands of bags +remained to be put aboard, and I felt that I was +growing used to times and seasons nautical, “the +ways of a ship,” in the cook’s phrase. When a +sergeant-major says, Parade at 8.30, he is understood +to have ordered a parade for 8.15; but I suspect that +at sea, should the tramp be expected away this +week, next week is the actual time of departure.</p> + +<p>Newspapers reached the ship from Buenos Aires, +one day old, and by that time having an antiquarian +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126'></a>126</span> +value of twenty centavos, or fourpence. In consequence +we generally went without; yet somehow +important news, such as the result of Cardiff City +versus Tottenham Hotspur, was quickly passed +round. Unimportant, such as the latest development +in the Anglo-Irish situation, was considered “politics,” +and its seeker ignored.</p> + +<p>The wharves were haunted, it goes without saying, +by rats; more publicly, by dogs. One grey giant +was regarded, especially by the mess-room boy, +with romantic fondness. His history, if his, was +current. He was “a Yankee,” but had lost his +passage in the North American ship to which he +belonged; and now, it was maintained, he made a +complete round of all the docks, boarded every +ship that came in, and looked into the alleyways +to try and recognize his own. The dog did, I agree, +wear a saddened expression. But, discreetly, I did +not feel sure about his sentimental journey. It was +“Mess-room” too who encouraged a cat to prepare +for the homeward voyage, and I cannot say that +he at first appeared likely to persuade the animal, +which, shut in for the night, like Chips on a recent +occasion, gave vent to piercing miaows. Parrots +and monkeys, without which surely no sailor should +ever return to his native village, were alike scarce.</p> + +<p>The subject of my future standing in the village +tavern had already been discussed when others failed. +It now arose again. The saloon’s ideas of rural +England were almost as broad as mine of sea life. +They could see or affected to see nothing else in +agriculture but one large joke; and its communities +as so many tribes of gaping lads in smocks, with +churchwardens, clustering about the oldest inhabitant. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127'></a>127</span> +I had told them not once nor twice that no one in +my village had any sense of distance, or wish to +travel, or to hear of travels. But still it was believed +that on my return I should be received at the inevitable +“Green Cow” or “Pig and Whistle” with +roars of applause, all mouths in the shape of O’s, +all attentions grappled to my lightest word. More +probably, I hinted, if I were to return and mention +as a news item a voyage in a tramp to South America, +the patronage would preserve a chilling silence, as +who should say, “We are too old for these youthful +frivolities. We are not amused”; and would then +resume the old buzz of ‘sheening and jack hares +and the riches of the rich’– But I was not heard.</p> + +<p>Lightning, a passion with me, grew bright and +furious towards the end of our stay, about the fall +of darkness; in its blue flare, it was startling to see +how like a wreck a Swedish motor-ship, which had +put in because of a fire aboard, lay lonely at some +distance from us. Presently the rain came down +and cooled the air; the night grew quiet then, +the far thunder dying out, or if there was noise, +it was the cricket’s cry, and the gruff brief conversation +of the ship’s watchman with his comrade +on the wharf as he passed by.</p> + +<p>Sunday came again, day of washing for Meacock +and others; day of eggs and bacon for the Saloon’s +breakfast, and with it special duff and crimson +sauce for dinner, tinned pineapple and cake for +tea. Fortified thus, Bicker and Mead and myself +go a-fishing on the opposite quay, where some Argentines +have been catching fine fish. Now it is, to the +best of my memory, the fact that I have never yet +caught one fish on Sunday; and so I should have +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128'></a>128</span> +been wiser than to have joined in this excursion. +Luck stopped dead as soon as we began, and to +make things worse, through a sleepy reply of Bicker’s +I imagined the line to be made fast to the jetty, and +threw out the sinker with special success “far out +at sea.” That line was not made fast. It had +belonged to the steward. He, when he heard the +disaster, stood in a kind of <i>rigor</i>, gazing at high +heaven as one insensible to misfortune.</p> + +<p>And now came our last day at Ingeniero White. +Not too soon, it seemed; the scenery of the port +having but little of freshness, and the drama of loading +again lacking in situations. Mosquitoes here served +me well by arousing me in the early morning, as +I was instructed to take a hand at six with tallying +the bags of grain. I was there to the moment, +but my duty proved to be that of standing by, +enjoying life. At twelve, all hands were mustered +amidships and numbered by the port authority, +and one was missing. At length it was found out +who, namely, one Towsle the sleepiest of the apprentices, +and where–in his bath, dozing unaware of the +parade outside the door. The pilot came aboard at +three, and the tug <i>Lydia</i> presented herself to guide +the <i>Bonadventure</i> out: there was much business +with ropes fore and aft, and the ship swinging round +was free of the wharf about the top of the tide. +The warehouses with their stacks of bags, slippered +blue-trousered handymen, surpliced overseers with +their sampling hollow bayonets, railway trucks and +capstans, ubiquitous dogs and all, began to recede. +But we had not come more than a couple of miles +from the elevators, nor out of sight of the refugee-like +town behind them, when we anchored to await +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129'></a>129</span> +Hosea. At a considerable space from the town, all +alone, we saw as we waited the big drab square +building euphemistically known aboard as the +“variety show.” It was a sad sight, and to me in +its significance of some people’s luck in this world, a +challenge to my random cheerful philosophy, which +I have not yet been able entirely to dismiss.</p> + +<p>Presently from the land a storm began to foreshadow +itself, and suddenly there was a burst of wild +piping wind, like a spiteful cry, that flung sharp rain +over us and in scarcely a minute had died down +again. Its short career sent every one interested +scampering to take in the canvas awnings, and left +a breeze which when the captain arrived in a launch, +carrying some newspapers, blew them round him +like a garment. He was wearing a straw hat. He +jammed it on with a will and hurried up the rope +ladder. With his return, we were at sea again, though +not yet in the open.</p> + +<p>The evening was one of strange majesty. One saw +clouds amassing in every similitude of mountainous +immensity and ascent, and wild lights everywhere +burning among them; but most of all, a tawny +lion’s colour mantled in a great tract of the sky +and below shone dim yet in a manner dazzling +from the darkening water. The heat of the day +had been oven-like. Lightnings began after a red +weeping sunset, sheet lightnings often veined with the +fiercest forks of white flame, wreaths of golden fire, +volleys, cataracts, serpents; and these danced about +the horizon until daybreak, sometimes in silence, +sometimes with deep but weary-sounding thunderclaps. +The light that these wanderers cast was +often of an intensity scarcely credible. A deluge of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130'></a>130</span> +rain was always imminent, but only towards dawn +arrived.</p> + +<p>The <i>Bonadventure</i> had been, under these innumerable +lights, making quiet way down an avenue of buoys +twinkling in their degree, and came into view of the +lightship beyond them. The pilot sounded the siren +(for he was to leave us here), and in reply to the +second call of the siren the lamp of a boat pulling +out towards us appeared. It was good-bye to the +pilot and his bag, which on the end of a rope now +caused a moment’s interest; the engines, stopped +to let him depart, were started again, and the captain +fixed the ship’s course. Mead’s watch, as usually it +was, shared by the purser, engaged us in more recollections +of the great war; and in the glitter first of a +swarm of dragon-flies, then presently the surly +gleam of the lightning, we talked on until midnight. +I admired him for having already forgotten all about +his disappointment in the lottery, and begun with +new hopes according to his motto; <i>Quo fata vocant</i>.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131'></a>131</span><a id='link_21'></a>XXI</h2> + +<p>The breakfast steaks were leathery past anticipations. +The flies in the cabin were thousands strong. But +the <i>Bonadventure</i> was homeward bound, and a +general spirit of liveliness prevailed. Conversation +was running much upon the value of the mark, for +it was to Hamburg that we were believed to be +going. Base hopes were expressed that the rate of +exchange might be a thousand to the pound. No +one imagined that this would some day be surpassed +by eleven thousand. The Argentine had been +expensive; the cheapness of Germany was thrown +up all the clearer. As, however, I had no anxiety to +buy a safety razor, mouth-organs, clocks, and pocket +manicure sets, to which and other articles like them +I imagined the German cheapness would be limited, +I was not elated on that score.</p> + +<p>At any rate, here we were steaming north at a +steady speed, with a light breeze ahead, and the +coast of the Argentine slipping past, dimly seen. +And everything was bent for England. For weeks +the chief had expressed a longing for pancakes at +almost every meal; and now, auspicious, they +came. On the other hand, the cheese was done. +Dark suspicions about a certain cake were also +whispered; knowing ones, whose information was +that Hosea had sent one aboard from Bahia Blanca +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132'></a>132</span> +for the benefit of the saloon, saw villainy in the delay +of its forthcoming. When it did appear its pomp +of white icing and green and red crescents, and +diamonds of fruit ornaments, certainly warranted +an anxiety, as for crown jewels.</p> + +<p>Meacock, the ever-busy and never-flustered, about +this time showed me his private notebook, in which +he had from time to time copied verses and aphorisms, +chiefly from <i>Nash’s Magazine</i>, which he considered +worthy. In this anthology of his I might have seen +the signs of a literary revival aboard which shortly +afterwards befell. I daresay he would have expanded +a remark of his, “Novels were untrue to life, but +life was not by itself interesting enough” (during +the war he had commanded a trawler in the Mediterranean), +had not the slow flash of a lighthouse appeared +on the port side. He climbed to Monkey Island to +take a bearing. The blurred lights of Mar del +Plata past, our course was altered to agree with the +set-back of the coast. Mead came up for his watch, +eight bells went, and Meacock departed. His “Ay, +ay” to the retiring steersman’s report, the apprentice’s +reading of the log, and the forward lookout’s shout +“The lights are bright, sir,” always had a handsome +resonance and lingering dignity.</p> + +<p>Mead was by this time full of Hamburg, and he +kept breaking into songs in very low Low German, and +memories of one Helen, not without sighs. That +romance was not the first, nor the last, which I heard +from him. He would show me Hamburg! and +by way of a Pisgah look, he drew gay pictures of +that town, omitting however its architectural glories. +Like critics of nature poetry, he saw the world in +terms of men and women: and Hamburg as the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133'></a>133</span> +location of dancing saloons and a singular exhibition +of waxworks.</p> + +<p>The evening had at first looked stormy, and sharp +fits of lightning lit the low clouds, but all passed +by. The clear and cool heaven was left, diamonded +with steady constellations, and crowned with the +round moon “and a star or two beside”; below +like a field of silver lay the sea, and the quiet ship +flung by veils of lily foam, and the shadows +stealthily counter-changed the glistening decks. In +these calm airs and waters, she made such good speed +that the next afternoon we came in view of Monte +Video. The pilot took over the bridge, and we +were soon at anchor in the harbour, which seemed +thronged with ships. Our business here was to +load bunker coal, and as our coal was at the moment +aboard a collier which was to be seen some distance +out of the breakwaters, nothing was done this first +evening. The news that his coal was yet to arrive +at Monte Video was cheerfully imparted to Phillips +with the comment, “Well, anyway, chief, you’ll +get your coal nice and fresh”; but he seemed +by no means consoled. Nor did the assurance of the +shipping clerk–a somewhat lilified young man in +immaculate blue serge–that “Our Cardiff house +have let us down badly,” act as a charm upon his +depression. He told me to stand by for the office +of tallying at seven the next morning, and I thanked +him. The request implied, perhaps, the paternal +anxiety for my avoiding mischievous indolence which +he had shown before.</p> + +<p>But meanwhile what was there to do? We lay +at a distance from the shore, and had therefore +no distraction. I watched the lighthouse on the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134'></a>134</span> +hill, the buoys, the ship’s signals, the trams on the +quay, the other illuminant causes all round us; I +listened to a brass band which, for whatever reason, +was playing close to the harbour until late in the +evening; and then, driven to extremes, I sat down +to write a “novel” which became my refuge from +ennui during what remained of my holiday, but +which I fear will never be finished. I spoke to Mead +about it. He thought little of my hero. I agreed to +have the hero killed in a bayonet fight near Alberta +pill-box, but he thought I might go still nearer to +propriety and have the hero kill his man, and +go through his pockets. There did seem something +in this suggestion, and a few years ago such an +ending as it conjured up would have been popular, +I think:</p> + +<div class='bquote'> +<p>“The battle was over. Whistling ‘Tipperary,’ and +placing the wallet and watch of his prostrate antagonist +in the pocket of his body shield, Arthur strode +onward to join his comrades at their evening meal +in Houthulst Wood. Here let us leave him, calmly +facing the morrow as only an Englishman can.</p> +</div> <!-- block quote --> + +<div class='center'> +<p>“THE END.”</p> +</div> <!-- centered --> + +<p>The next day brought the worst weather that we +had met since we left the Channel. At first it was +merely cool and mild; but that was misleading. +Down came the rain, thick, cold, and steady; and there +seemed a sufficient supply to last until we left. I +noticed it, myself, with more especial observation, at +my post of tallyman.</p> + +<p>In the drizzle the lighters came alongside bringing +the coal in bags. The stevedore’s gang and their +own overseers arrived aboard. One of these overseers +was an Englishman, who by his manner and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135'></a>135</span> +speech had evidently been brought up in a widely +different setting; but it was none of our business, +though Bicker and others considered it a disgrace for +an Englishman to be so employed. All I heard was +that he came from the West of England, and that +he was wild (which appeared sufficiently in his +countenance); and I admired his intellect, and tried +to make him feel that. The other overseer was a fat +old Italian, who tallied with me for the lighter on the +port side.</p> + +<p>As these men and the poor fellows who were +emptying the sacks into the hatches or trimming +the coal down below had been at work all the night, +it was not surprising that our affairs moved slowly. +The winch, steaming and thudding and jerking in a +mutinous mood, brought up four bags at a time, on +my side. The sling that held them was lowered to +the deck, the hands rushed to swing them on to the +improvised platforms beside the hatches, with a +concerted roaring as if over the capture of a tiger. +While these bags were being emptied, the sling +would be descending into the lighter again; and +so it continued, with a fog of coal particles wrapping +the neighbourhood. The gang was a mixed multitude. +Nationality might have been anything. The prevailing +colour was a sable (unsilvered), under which +mask might be distinguished Italian, Portuguese, +Japanese, West Indian, and other types. Among +the most energetic of those who were emptying the +bags, the most vocal of the roarers, there was a tall, +thin, humorous fellow who reminded me irresistibly +of a brilliant poet and miscellanist of the modern +school. I thought of that dazzling smile, that +æsthetic face transferred to the surroundings of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136'></a>136</span> +Chelsea, and what a success, if looks meant anything, +he ought to be! So strongly did I feel that in his +hours of leisure and coallessness he was a critic of +verse and <i>mœurs</i> that I almost asked him his name.</p> + +<p>My co-tallyman was pleasantly disposed. He +asked me if I would give him one of several casks +standing near the galley. I referred him to Phillips, +who referred him to Meacock, who referred him elsewhere. +We disagreed now and then over the tally, +but I was able to hold my own. The <i>lex talionis</i> +was in force. Sometimes I was induced to accept his +surplus over my figure as accurate, but then I would +take him back at another opportunity, and ignore +his doleful “Make it <i>threeee</i>.” My imagination +lagged behind his, which seemed to see occasional +slings put aboard by aerial hands, and aerial coal +at that, and these went down in his book. But +altogether we “made it.” Mutual mistrust served +the public good.</p> + +<p>The chief lent me a boiler suit, for which I was +insufficient, and added an old macintosh presently. +I soon grew black; even the tallyman, though he +seemed to have some natural gift in his stubbled +skin which repelled the grime, grew black. Presently +I was disguised in the order of things as a film thug, +with waterlogged cap sagging over eyes heavily inlaid +in blackness. Tired as the labourers must have +been, they went on working as if they liked it, grinning, +singing, enjoying comments upon each other, and +refreshing themselves with cheroots, cigarettes, peaches, +or sups from cans containing a brown decoction like +strong tea. They ceased at four.</p> + +<p>It was by way of variation in the evening that +Bicker and Mead fell upon me, with the idea +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137'></a>137</span> +of shampooing the begrimed tallyman. Zambuk +(Hosea’s trusted salve), lime cream, and talcum +powder were employed. There was a struggle, +however, which disturbed Meacock opposite. He +came to the rescue, but leaping upon the two barbers, +who were holding me down, he forgot that I was +underneath. “Rough house,” the word went round.</p> + +<p>When the stevedore’s men arrived the following +day, they were almost to a man rigged out in the +cleanest of suits, or costumes rather. This was, to +the best of my information, not the habit with the +British trimmer. Their hats were pleasing to the +eye. In his jet-black felt, my poetry-critic looked +the picture of a member of the <i>Athenæum</i> staff +(lamented <i>Athenæum</i>!). Others wore the type of +hat but not the manner. A number of matey caps, +check and khaki and indigo, then white wideawakes +as though for haymaking, and a few pillbox-like +creations in crimson and daffodil, made part of the +splendour. Some of the coalheavers wore large +sashes amidships, sashes of lurid colour also, violet +and plum, extra shade. In the shirts, more colour +appeared. Here, like Aurora, stepped Antonio in +salmon pink; there, was a construction of red and +green rings on a white background. The bright-blue +cotton suits added to the general effect. Curious +that these workers should come so clean, only to +be coated with coal-dust in half an hour! It spoke +well for their outlook.</p> + +<p>The work was much as before. Wheelbarrows +had to be got to put the sacks beside other hatches +which the winch did not command. The chief had +some argument with the Italian foreman about the +last two hundred bags, which he wished to be shot +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138'></a>138</span> +into the starboard hatch only, to bring the ship +up straight. The foreman asked him to withdraw +this. “Damn you!” roared Phillips, and put an +end to the matter, “when I say <span class='sc'>NO</span> I mean <span class='sc'>NO</span>. +Don’t you understand plain English?”</p> + +<p>So that was that, and my job finished. The +bosun and his worthies quickly gathered to remove +the disgraceful signs of bunkering; they swept and +garnished, the stylish shipping clerk came aboard with +his final papers to see Hosea and Phillips. Already +the pilot was on the bridge; soon we were slowly +backing away from our mooring. The blue peter +was hauled down, the gangway got in. The <i>Bonadventure</i> +was manœuvred past the breakwaters +and down the marked channel, at whose last buoy, +or soon afterwards, the tug to fetch the pilot came +alongside. As he withdrew in her she sounded +the three blasts or rather hoots meaning a “Bon +voyage,” and our own burly voice sounded three +times in acknowledgment. The many turrets and +spires, chimneys and gaunt roofs of Monte Video, +distinctly ranged along a rainy sky with shelves of +rock-like cloud, lessened duly; the evening came on. +Still the coast appeared here and there, its yellow +sands, its dark-blue cliffs and hills, and as if shouldering +the dull and heavy sky the sun burned out with a +golden power before he departed.</p> + +<p>Mead bade good-bye for a short time–in all +probability–and myself for a long time, to South +America, still symbolized by its lighthouses and the +night-glow of a seaside town or two. Once again I +felt a regret that I had not seen the elder Buenos +Aires, whose extinction was no doubt a wise thing, +but which surely must have triumphed as a thing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139'></a>139</span> +of beauty over the present cubic blocks of utility. +Mead was not sentimental about going to sea once +more. He was too deeply engaged with devising a +piece of invective against an enemy for an alleged +injury, and immersed in the troubles of rhyme. +I thought he was acquitting himself very well.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140'></a>140</span><a id='link_22'></a>XXII</h2> + +<p>I have mentioned a scarcely concealed feeling in the +saloon against the omniscience of the wireless operator. +That was not all the opposition to which this youth of +the glazed locks was subject. He was understood, +while the ship was at sea, to receive news issued daily, +and frequently when a subject was being discussed by +the ship’s officers he sat there in possession of the facts +but with serene indifference to the general interest. In +this, he was carrying out the regulations, I imagine; +but his behaviour resembled that of the dog in the +manger. To aggravate this sense of injustice, he +rashly told some one that the news might be taken at +three guineas.</p> + +<p>This in the first place affected the saloon only. But +it happened that throughout the ship there was a +particular desire for information. At home, the football +season was at its zenith. Important matches, in +the Leagues and the Cup competition, were known to +be playing; and one man on the ship when she was +out at sea could, and it was believed did, hear the +results. But never a word said he. Looking in at the +galley during the evening to brew my cocoa, I would +find animated discussion of the favourite teams in progress. +Kelly, the “Mess-room,” would wipe his fist +across his mouth and huskily explain. “It’s like +this, mister.” He had known other wireless operators +who gladly announced the football results. But this +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141'></a>141</span> +fellow–he was too b― stuck-up, mister–“The +Marconi,” the term which he used for the offending +operator, savoured queerly of the phrase “The +Bedlam” in <i>King Lear</i>.</p> + +<p>Such was the background against which Mead’s +vision of the unfortunate Sparks stood out, and with +the particular unfriendliness which I must briefly +describe. Earlier in the trip, Sparks had, in Mead’s +opinion, adopted a tone of equality and then even of +command towards him, in the course of the ship’s +routine. Mead had immediately resorted to warlike +acts. Sparks lodged a written complaint with Hosea, +who gave both parties the best advice. But it was a +false step in Sparks to send in this communication, +which would if forwarded have cost Mead, perhaps, his +living; and it was made worse by Sparks’s glib +defence, “I was doing my duty,” since he had been at +a safe distance from the war when Mead’s duty lay on +the Gallipoli beaches. And he still affected to think of +upholding his letter.</p> + +<p>Matters were therefore strained, and the more they +were so the more Mead liked it. “Don’t let me catch +you ashore,” had been his way of passing Sparks the +time of day in port; at sea, he growled abuse at him +whenever he saw him, and if no better occasion offered +itself, would suddenly thrust his face in all the semblance +of murderous intention through the open porthole +of the young man’s room and utter calm, deliberate, +and unnatural purposes.</p> + +<p>In this feud, my position was not comfortable. +Unlicked as he was (up to the present) and devoid of +fine points, the Marconi, whose cabin was neighbour to +mine, wished me no harm, and even sought my esteem. +Mead, whom I did esteem, was discontented with any +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142'></a>142</span> +half-measures on my part, and in any case I felt bound +to observe neutrality. But the capers of my angry +friend were often amusing, the declarations of duty +conscientiously executed by his <i>bête noir</i>–Mead had +a weakness for style–were not. And it is scarcely +necessary to repeat, the general view of Sparks was not +a moral support to Mead even if he had “no case.”</p> + +<p>On the occasion that I described, Mead had decided +to drive his point well home with the aid of rhyme. I +took a copy of his somewhat indecorous production. +It had many “spirited couplets,” embodying considerable +observations:</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p>To see you promenade the deck</p> +<p>Gives me a pain in my ruddy neck.</p> +</div> + +<p>Sparks had been unwise, again, in mentioning his +pleasure in the slaughterer’s trade, and past experience. +Mead did not miss the opportunity.</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p>If the blood of sheep could make you glow</p> +<p>Come and dare to make mine flow.</p> +<p>I am no hero out for gore,</p> +<p>I had the wind up in the war.</p> +</div> + +<p>Names and menaces came fast and furious.</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p>... Flowers there’ll be which you won’t smell,</p> +<p>You swob, you’ll learn a lot in hell.</p> +<p>Had I been called half these things</p> +<p>Some one or I’d be wearing wings.</p> +</div> + +<p>This effusion, laboriously printed in <span class='sc'>Capitals</span> so that +its effect on the recipient should be the more demoralizing, +headed <span class='sc'>The Answer</span>, and signed in characteristic +fashion <span class='sc'>Nulli Secundus</span>, was to have been handed to +its theme in the saloon. Eventually, Mead rejected +that as perhaps contrary to tradition, and handed it in +at the porthole aforesaid; but its object, the arranging +of “a little bout,” was not achieved.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143'></a>143</span><a id='link_23'></a>XXIII</h2> + +<p>A literary epoch began. Bicker, our authentic poet, +and not an opportunist like Mead, had been proposing +a magazine for some little time past. On a Saturday +afternoon, he decided to produce the first number for +the Sunday following. The circulation was to be six: +there being no aids aboard such as the clay or hectograph, +each copy had to be written by hand throughout. +Into this labour I, with the editor’s satirical +comments upon my profession, was at once pressed. +Material in prose and verse was given to me, and filled +three foolscap pages in a close handwriting. I copied +out these contributions, which scarcely stood the test +of a second reading, six times: and was rewarded with +a vile headache. I hoped the magazine would +succeed, but only once. Bicker, like a born editor, +copied out his portion without feeling any the worse, +and his appreciation of the fare which he was providing +grew with every copy.</p> + +<p>The final details, however, delayed the appearance +of the <i>Optimist</i> until Sunday afternoon. Bicker said +in self-protection that no Sunday paper is available in +the provinces before breakfast. When the <i>Optimist</i> +was published, there was no question of its being welcomed. +It was of the familiar kind, which seems to +satisfy enough readers to satisfy its promoters. A +fable in a dialect generally considered a skilful parody +of the Old Testament, “Things we want to know,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144'></a>144</span> +reports of the football season at Buenos Aires, Answers +to Correspondents, a poetical libel beginning “It is an +ancient Mariner,” and much besides, principally from +the editor’s pen, formed the bulk of it. There were +columns devoted to Amusements, and Advertisements +of the principal business heads aboard. A copy +made its way aft to the bosun and his sea-dogs–the +gentlemen who were announced in it as the Chain +Lightning Gang. Sitting on the poop in Sunday +neatness, they gave it a good reception. The bosun +himself had been ill, but was better after reading it.</p> + +<p>With some copies a supplement was issued, and +collectors will not need to be advised to acquire +these rarities. This supplement was a page of +drawings, by Mead, of common objects at Buenos +Aires. The obese laundress, Mme. Maria Maggi, was +perhaps conspicuous among these (on another page a +report was printed that she had died, leaving £300,000 +to her lean charioteer). The watchman, with a label +giving one of his typical blasphemies, “Got-a-d― b―” this, that, and the other, was seen at full +length. The altercation between the manager of the +wharf (attached to a balloon lettered <span class='sc'>You.are.using.my.Buckets. I.am.the.Bandoliero</span>) and Meacock, +smoking as always and nevertheless replying <span class='sc'>You.Big.Stiff</span> <i>ore rotundo</i>, was chronicled. And considering who +the artist was, and his recent poem, it was not surprising +to find a malevolent caricature of one still with us.</p> + +<p>One afternoon, sleeping within my cabin, I heard +the mate altering the ship’s course with “Hard a starboard” +and so on, and feeling this to be out of the +ordinary I went out to see why. A mile off there was +something in the sea, which the apprentices declared +to be a small boat with a flag flying. I felt the light +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145'></a>145</span> +of adventure breaking in upon the murky tramp. +But as we drew nearer, the castaway proved to be +nothing more than a buoy, and visions of picking up +a modern Crusoe faded suddenly. The ship was put +back to her course.</p> + +<p>The breeze ahead grew stronger, and in the early +morning, the sky being quite grey, a slate-grey sea was +running in sizable crests and valleys and tossing the +spray high aboard. “The devil’s in the wind +already.” “And the bread.” The cook’s reputation +was gone at a blow. He, like a wicket-keeper, +did well without any notice taken; lapsed a moment, +and every one was barking. It seemed he had been +unfortunate in the yeast supplied him. There were +sallies of wit: “Now’s the time to pave the alley,” +“Pass the holystone,” over this doughy circumstance. +For some time, in the words of the Cambridge prize +poet, the bread “was not better, he was much the +same,” and ship’s biscuits became unexpectedly +favourite. They were stiff but excellent eating; +would have rejoiced the soul of my late general, the +noted “Admiral” H., alias “Monty,” alias “The +Schoolmaster,” and other aliases. Can he ever be +forgotten for those diurnal and immortal questions +of his, “Did your men have porridge this morning?” +and “Why did you not order your cook to give your +men duff to-day?” It wanted little imagination to +picture him under his gold oak leaves nibbling with +dignity at a ship’s biscuit and saying, “Very good, +Harrison, uncommonly tasty–I shall recommend +them to Division.”</p> + +<p>The sea presently under a brightened sky grew to a +rare intensity of blue, that was at its most radiant in +the overswirl of water sheered by the bows. Gallant +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146'></a>146</span> +enough the <i>Bonadventure</i> looked in the marvellous +expanse, having by dint of much early-morning swilling +and swabbing thrown the worst of her nighted +colour off; but almost every day I heard bad wishes +to the designer of her, though on the score of utility, +not the pleasure of the eye. My fancy of a full-rigged +ship bowing over these rich seas was usually +corrected with reference to “wind-bags”–not folks +like me, but ships.</p> + +<p>Then there came rain, drizzling on doggedly hour +after hour. The drops hung on the railings like +autumn dews on meadow fences. One of the effects +of such weather was that the cat, who had been +induced after all to make the trip, was driven to look +about for a quiet, sheltered corner, and having found +one, was driven to look again. Finally she chose the +chart-room and settled upon the chart. South +America was sodden with rain and black with paw-marks +when the second mate looked in, and that cat, +black or not, would have passed over, but for her +being shortly to become a mother. That fact also +accounted for her worried expression, voice, and +manner, which I had misread as symptoms of sea-sickness.</p> + +<p>And still the dull and rainy sky. When I went out +one morning, the mate leaned over the bridge rail +and said, “You’re the blooming Jonah! Now look at +that damn’d smoke.” I looked at the customary +coaly vapour flying aft, but was unenlightened. +“You Jonah,” he went on, “you’ve brought this +wind, and it’s carrying the cinders all over my new +paint.” Now, I suspected the cat was the cause of +the trouble; but my guilt was urged by the chief also, +as a current of a mile an hour was setting us back.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147'></a>147</span>Not only the mariners of the <i>Bonadventure</i> lived in +suspense, awaiting the football results.</p> + +<p>“That fellow was funny this morning.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, you could see the excitement in his lamp.”</p> + +<p>“What was this?”</p> + +<p>“Why, about four the So-and-so passed us, and +the mate on watch signalled us: ‘Do you know the +result of Tottenham v. Cardiff City?’ So we sent +back that Cardiff had won but we didn’t know the +score. This fellow sent back: ‘Oh, well done, Cardiff!’ +but he was that excited, he could scarcely hit out a +letter right. His first message had been–well, +beautifully sent; now his lamp was all over the +place.”</p> + +<p>“We could almost see him dancing about the +bridge!”</p> + +<p>Spragg, the assistant steward, sometimes came to +swab my cabin. He had been in a battalion of the +38th Division, when my own Division relieved them in +January 1917 on the Canal Bank at Ypres; and he +had been like myself a witness and a part of the +mammoth preparations of that summer, which ended +in such terrible failure. His manner and humorous +way of telling tales beside which the “Pit and +Pendulum” appears to me an idle piece of pleasantry, +unspeakably brought back the queer times and places +which we had both seen. I saw him in my mind’s +eye, keen and frank, standing behind his kit with +“headquarters company”–those amiable wits–at +Elverdinghe Château (Von Kluck’s rumoured country +seat, for it was never in my time bombarded); or +with pick or shovel stooping along in the Indian file +of dark forms towards that vaunted, flimsy breastwork, +Pioneer Trench at Festubert.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148'></a>148</span>But still my share of Mead’s watch was my best +recreation. Our talk was disturbed but little; perhaps +by the signals of some ship passing by, or by some +unusual noise, such as one evening we heard with a +slight shock. A succession of rifle-shots, it sounded; +and the cause was evidently some great fish departing +by leaps and bounds from the approach of that +greater one the <i>Bonadventure</i>. The interruption over, +he would go on with plans for a future in Malay. +“This life,” he would say, “is killing me.” He was +quite as healthy, mind and body, as any man aboard. +I liked his occasional rhapsodies, in which the smell of +burning sandalwood and of cotton trees, the clearings +in sinister forests with the jewelled birds, the rough +huts, the dark ladies with the hibiscus flowers in their +hair, and the lone white settler (ex-digger Mead) +thinking his thoughts in the evening, all played their +part. He wished the world back in 1860; it had +outdistanced him.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149'></a>149</span><a id='link_24'></a>XXIV</h2> + +<p>It blew from the north-east strong against us always, +and we were travelling more slowly. The sun returned, +however, among those ethereal white clouds which +to perfection fulfil the poet’s word “Pavilions”; +we ran on into a dark sea ridged and rilled with +glintering silver, yet seemed never to reach it, remaining +in a bright blue race of waters scattered, port and +starboard, with white wreaths, waters leaping from +the heavy flanks of the ship in a seethe of gossamer +atoms and glass-green cascade.</p> + +<p>The immediate scene was one of painters and paint-pots, +and linen flying on the lines. “This wind’s +playing hell with my curls,” said one or two. The +matter with me was, that my room was almost untenable. +I opened the port at my peril; to do so was to +entertain billows of coal-dust from the bunkers below. +White paint, the order of the day, whether flat white +or white enamel, made progress about the ship by an +amateur dangerous, too.</p> + +<p>The apparition of the steward under the evening +lamps dressed in a smock–he was of ample make–and +brandishing a paint-brush, was generally enjoyed. +In fact, several spectators came to take a careful look +at one who was too often denominated “the mouldy-headed +old b―.”</p> + +<p>A more tenuous apparition was heard of, as we +ran north. Whether a hoax or not, I do not know. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150'></a>150</span> +My first information of it came in the form of a +drawing by the apprentice Tich, showing the ship’s +bell being struck by a hand who never was on land or +sea, and the apprentice Lamb leaving his hold of the +wheel in horror, and even Mead shaking all over and +gaping. A poem appended said that the facts were +what the picture made out. The <i>Bonadventure</i> was +so new a ship–her old name, showing her war origin, +still stood on the bells and the blue prints in the chart-room +and elsewhere–that there seemed every likelihood +against the story being the truth. I asked +Mead, and he told me what he maintained to be true.</p> + +<p>On the first watch, the voyage before this, he had +gone into the wheel-house for a word with the apprentice +at the wheel. A shadow, indistinct, yet leaving +impressed on his recollection a human shape, slipped +suddenly past the wheel-house windows, softly rang +the bell once, and swiftly departed. The frightened +boy drops the wheel, lets the ship swing round completely +out of her course: Mead runs out, but there is +nothing to be seen. He sends for the two A.B.’s who +might have come up on the bridge, but they say +that they have not done so, nor indeed would they +come without object. The firemen, if they have to +communicate with the bridge, never come higher +than the stairway to the bridge deck, and it proved +that no one of them had been there. By the wheel-house +clock, it was noticed that the precise time of the +visitation was 10.15, an hour not hitherto regarded by +ghosts, I believe, as preferable to midnight.</p> + +<p>And more. Still imagining that some practical +joker was at work, Mead brought a big stick with him +on his watch. This was no remedy. The ghost +appeared again, at much the same hour, on several +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151'></a>151</span> +nights; it was remarked, mostly when the apprentice +who first saw it had the wheel. Trying to stop so +strange a bell-ringer, Mead was met by a sharp flap +of wind, from a dead still night, and the glimmering +shadow was gone to the air. All this happened north +of the line.</p> + +<p>This was Mead’s story, but the boy’s seemed to +support it; and when in the shadows of the bridge +deck, earnestly and without trimming, he told it +me, it seemed very true. I glanced about me occasionally +after hearing it.</p> + +<p>The wind continued, but the heat was becoming +intense. Painting went on like the wind. The +derricks received a terra-cotta coat and their trellis +work looked an amenity, against the general whiteness. +The fervour for redecoration even affected +me: was not my hutch to share the common lot? +But, though the walls needed it, the matter was postponed, +on account of the limited accommodation.</p> + +<p>The newspaper was to appear again, but its circulation +was being cut down. One copy only would now +have to serve the public. It was passed to me, and +my aid with paragraphs requested. I could not +regret the reduction made in the number, even though +if that one copy was lost,</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p>We knew not where was that Promethean torch</p> +<p>That could its light relumine.</p> +</div> + +<p>Bicker, the editor, instead of reviewing his admired +literature in his journal, lengthened breakfast by +doing so there <i>viva voce</i>. He was all for Bœotian +situations, and, on occasion, his cold re-dishing was +tactfully ended by a relief conversation on religion, +the keynote of which was in the unironically meant +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152'></a>152</span> +remark: “He was darned religious, but he was a +darned good man.” I began to know a certain captain, +from talk during the voyage, almost by sight; one +who “went in for Sunday Schools, and put on a +crown of glory as soon as he reached Wales,” but once +away again, it appears that “he fell.”</p> + +<p>Another matter for the columns of the <i>Optimist</i> +was obtruded upon the breakfast table. It was a +conundrum:</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p>West was the wind, and West steered we,</p> +<p>West was the land. How could that be?</p> +</div> + +<p>The answer, apart from such evasions as “You were +entering port,” was that West was the name of the +helmsman. It was understood that the poem went +on in this strain, but the chief’s protest came in +time.</p> + +<p>The cat (last heard of in disgrace), which was under +the especial care of the mess-room boy, was no doubt +pleased hereabouts by our reaching the regions of +flying-fishes; but nevertheless continued, on the +gospel truth of Kelly, to take a chair in the engineer’s +mess at the critical hours of twelve and five. I +myself saw her there at twelve once or twice, judging +the time, no doubt, by the parade of table-cloth and +cutlery.</p> + +<p>Without any abatement of the stuffy heat inside +our cabins, we ran into a rainy area. The sea was +overcast, and the showers splashed us well. Meanwhile, +the wind had veered round more to the east, +and besides bringing the grey vapours of rain tumultuously +towards us thence, set the spray flying over +the lower decks and kept us on the roll. Blowing on +the beam, however, it seemed to please Phillips, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153'></a>153</span> +ever anxious about the hourly ten knots, which +seemed too high an expectation. Squalls threatened; +it was a tropical April mood. The rolling influenced +my sleep, in which I fancied myself manipulating the +airiest pleasure-boats, overcrowded with passengers +who refused to sit down, on an angry flooded river.</p> + +<p>The peaceful disposition of the four apprentices +began to weigh upon Mead’s mind. A very happy +and orderly set they were, although the current +<i>Optimist</i> contained an illustrated article on the bosun’s +tyranny, as:</p> + +<p>“<span class='sc'>Youse</span> take them two derricks for’ard.”</p> + +<p>“<span class='sc'>Youse</span> jes’ pick up that ventilator, you flat-nosed +son of a sea-cook.”</p> + +<p>The drawings of the well-known walrus head under +the antique, unique grey (<i>né</i> white) one-sided sugar-loaf +hat, were admirable. But to proceed. The +four boys were of the best behaviour, occasionally, +indeed, laughing or playing mouth-organs at +unpopular hours, or even after the nightly exit of +the cook making flap-jacks, otherwise pancakes, +from his properties in the galley. When I joined +Mead on his watch, one Sunday evening, he began +to “wonder what the boys are coming to.” They +were not like the boys of his time. He delved into +his own apprentice autobiography, and rediscovered +an era, a blissful era of whirling fists, blood, and booby +traps.</p> + +<p>A day followed remarkable for the weather. A +swell caused the ship to roll with a will all day, but, +as was expected in the doldrums, the wind slackened. +After a few hours of this lull, there was a piping +and groaning through all the scanty rigging that +the steamer owned, and from farther out to sea the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154'></a>154</span> +grey obscurity of violent rainstorm, much as it had +done on our way south, bore down upon us. Soon the +ship was cloaked close in a cloud of rain pale as snow, +which flecked the icy-looking sea, veined white alongside +us, with dark speckling bubbles. Then it was +time to sound the whistle, and its doleful groan went +out again and again (the wind still varying its note +from a drone to a howl) until the fiercer sting of the +rain was spent, and distance began to grow ahead of +the ship. This storm lacked thunder and lightning; +and yet, when Sparks invited me to listen to his +“lovely X-s,” there was a continuous and furious +rolling uproar in the phones. Then, as strange again, +as if at a nod that din came to a sudden stop, leaving +in the phones a lucid calm in which ship-signals rang +out clear.</p> + +<p>At sunset of a day which washed off the new paint +as soon as (in the intervals) it had been put on, a +thin red fringe glowed along the horizon, making +me long for green hills and white spires; at night, +the stars from Southern Cross to Charles’s Waggon +were gleaming, but the sea lay profoundly black, +and upon it all round us came and went glory after +glory of water-fire. The next day, however, it rained +in the same dismal style, and the sun’s eclipse and +the passing of Fernando Noronha were but little +heeded. I was called a Jonah by every one.</p> + +<p>A mollyhawk, that evening, created some excitement. +He first spent some time in flying on an oval +course round the ship, for his recreation, it looked. +His beautiful curves must have pleased him as they +did me, for he persuaded (or so it appeared) another +mollyhawk to make the circuit with him. Meacock +and myself heard one of these strike against the wireless +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155'></a>155</span> +aerial, and thought that it would have scared +them away; but no, a few minutes later we heard +a croaking and a flapping while we stood in the lee of +the wheel-house, and there was a mollyhawk. He +had struck some low rope or fixture. He was prevented +by his webbed feet from rising again, and I +had fears for his future which were by no means +necessary; for Meacock followed him, an awkward +but speedy walker, down to the lower bridge deck, +and, fearing the swift white stabbing bill, waiting his +chance, suddenly caught at his nearest wing and +launched him into the air. If his speed could show +it, that bird was relieved.</p> + +<p>This incident was a welcome verification of some of +the saloon’s bird anecdotes; and though it was nearly +dark and the bird was only aboard for two or three +minutes, his release was watched by a very good +gathering, representative of engineers, firemen, the +galley, sailors, and apprentices.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156'></a>156</span><a id='link_25'></a>XXV</h2> + +<table summary='poetry' class='poetry'><tr><td> +<p><i>Whilst thou by art the silly Fish dost kill,</i></p> +<p><i>Perchance the Devils Hook sticks in thy Gill.</i></p> +<p> Flavel’s New Compass for Sea-men, 1674.</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>I must have made a good many references here and +there to the steward, old Mouldytop, and it occurs to +me that he deserves a paragraph to himself. Of this +ship, whom her most faithful lovers called a dirty +ship, with her short funnel pouring a greasy smoke +over her graceless body when even coal-dust rested–of +this grimy tramp, playing a sufficient part in the +world’s daily life, rolling and lurching up and down +oceans with fuel or foodstuff, thousands of tons at a +time, it may be safely said that the steward was the +feature. In the <i>Optimist</i> it was evident that he as +an inspiration excluded almost every other. In the +round of day and night, should he himself be unseen for +a time, his voice would generally claim your notice; if +conversation took on dark and prophetic tones, it was, +for a ducat, some restatement of the ancient’s wickedness, +and a realization of the strength of his position +against all the world. For behind Mouldytop was the +power of Hosea.</p> + +<p>The steward was built somehow after the shape of +a buoy. It was Ireland, and not Scotland, that his +ancestors had left; but there was a doubt about his +own dialect. It was, and it was not, plain English. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157'></a>157</span> +His bulbous, melancholy face was topped with grey +hairs, but those he hid under his faded brown skull-cap. +Forty-nine years, one understood, had Mouldytop +been at sea; and before that, the veil of mystery +was thin enough to show him in his first stage, a batman +in the Army. This fact led him to deprecate +modern warfare, “It’s all science, Mister,” and those +who fought it; he claimed to have been blooded +<i>fighting</i> in some corner of the desert with spear-brandishing +multitudes. At the same time, he reserved +his reminiscences; for the refined insult, “You old +soldier,” needed no encouragement.</p> + +<p>He seldom grew cheerful. I suppose that he was +happiest when some one (no doubt with serpent +tongue) asked how his cold was. Then, his roar +softened into a resigned murmur, as he recorded that +it was as bad as ever; that six bottles of his own +medicine taken regularly had not cured him. This +was a pleasure that he shared with the author of one of +the most melodious English songs, and it seems to be +prophetic of his appearance–</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p>Welcome, folded arms and fixed eyes,</p> +<p>A sigh that piercing mortifies,</p> +<p>A look that’s fastened to the ground,</p> +<p>A tongue chained up without a sound,</p> +</div> + +<p>as of his imaginative affections in his sombre cell–</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p>A midnight bell, a parting groan!</p> +<p>These are the sounds we feed upon;</p> +<p>Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley,</p> +<p>Nothing’s so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy.</p> +</div> + +<p>Let but a sailor apply to him at the wrong hour–or +even the right hour–for tobacco, and his indisposition +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158'></a>158</span> +was gone in a second; his tongue was unchained. +The busy mockers grinned. “He’d tell Davy Jones +he’d been to sea before him.”</p> + +<p>In the Argentine ports he was in excellent voice. +Did a native shoemaker come aboard with his repair +outfit, or a seller of fruit with his panniers, and did +any one propose to deal with these “Dagoes,” out +skipped our old friend, bellowing: “Too much, man; +what,” (<i>crescendo</i>) “d’ye think we pick up money in +the streets?–I wouldn’t have your blasted country +for all the blasted money there is in it.” The charges, +I am bound to add, fell down quickly, while the old +watchman standing by observed with a respectful +grin, “You a good man!”</p> + +<p>The advance of age was a sore point with Mouldytop. +Consequently, it was one that was brought to +his notice as often as it could be effective. One evening, +some one told him he was too old to play football. +“Too old, mister?” he bawled; “Too old!–why, +give me that blasted ball,” and he stood there in a +prodigious rage, his eyes flashing, his fists knotting. +“Too old!”–His calenture ceased suddenly; there +was a tug on his fishing line. Up came a yellow catfish. +Never have I perceived a livelier disgust than +the look showed which he cast upon this victim. It +seemed to blame the catfish personally for not being a +rock salmon.</p> + +<p>So Mouldytop regarded animated nature; which +regarded him as a man whose duties implied opportunities. +“I’m a poor man, mister.”–“The old son +of a gun says he’s a poor man. You old liar, you’ve +got streets of houses, you know you have.”</p> + +<p>Some one who knew him at home was strongly of +opinion that he was less terrible by his own fireside: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159'></a>159</span> +that there was a fellow creature under whose guidance +he roared like any sucking dove. It might be. +Indeed, it was my impression that it could hardly be +otherwise. I thought I noticed a certain caution even +in his attitude to the large-bosomed laundrywoman +who took the ship’s orders at Buenos Aires; and his +comment on <i>her</i> charges had been of the weakest.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160'></a>160</span><a id='link_26'></a>XXVI</h2> + +<p>We crossed the line at six in the morning, and in +drizzling rain. There was not much comment, except +upon the rain; the good thing about the damp cloudy +weather was that we were spared the more furious +heat, though the atmosphere had been oily and sultry. +With the steamy clouds swarming about us I could +picture a past life hereabouts which might justly have +aroused man’s wrath; the sailing days, when to take +advantage of whatever brief breeze might visit the +sleepy doldrums, the sailors had to be constantly running +aloft in the drenching mist, and afterwards lay +down in their sweating glory-holes, in their soaked +clothes, week after week.</p> + +<p>The painting epidemic was not abated. Meacock +and Mead camped out while they made their rooms as +white as ivory. Mead looked charming in a round +white cap, which he said a V.A.D. had given him. +The steward, with his experience of every sort of ship +under the sun, had developed an artistic eye: and, +perhaps to relieve the whiteness, he decided upon a +dado for the saloon, which hitherto had been from +ceiling to floor done in white enamel. The dado was +to be grained, in imitation of an actual wainscot. He +began his solemn task, applying by way of groundwork +a brimstone yellow and other sickly yellows +which disturbed us at meals.</p> + +<p>Meacock and Phillips varied these days with a discussion +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161'></a>161</span> +of firemen, whether white or coloured firemen +were the more difficult to manage? Phillips was for +his Africans, the excellent selection aboard at present +forming a contrast with his memories of ne’er-do-wells, +“doctors, remittance-men and all sorts,” of +English birth. Meacock was soon hard at work +describing with amusing mimicry a refractory negro, +one of a number of Somalis who, hearing of labour +troubles in England, did their best to be paid off in +Africa. If they had succeeded, the ship would have +been without firemen for her return voyage; so their +efforts were resisted. The particular genius played +the hand of “suicidal tendency.” Choosing a time +when there were several people about the deck, he +climbed somewhat slowly up the bulwarks and prepared +with gestures to leap over the side. Meacock +was a spectator of this piece of acting. The actor was +pulled back with some violence, and “about half-past +four we got the handcuffs on him. We would have +had to turn the cook out of his room aft to lock this +fellow up, but I didn’t want to do that, so I fastened +him up with the handcuffs round a stanchion in the +poop. I said, ‘And the rats will probably eat you +before the morning’; and I really did expect to find +him eaten by the morning; for there were some +monsters in the poop.</p> + +<p>“Next day, he began saying ‘Sick.’–‘Sick? +Where are you sick?’–‘Sick all over.’ I had enough +of this after a bit, and went and got the strongest +black draught I’ve yet known. He didn’t want to +drink it, and I said to him, ‘Now drink this up as +quick as you can.’ And so he did. After that, whenever +I looked in at the poop, this fellow would start +waving his arms and hollering out. In fact, he was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162'></a>162</span> +mad; every time I got near him, he was mad. That +black draught was not popular, I think. When we got +to Cuxhaven, the medical authority put this man +through a careful examination. ‘He’s no more mad,’ +he said, ‘than you or I. He’s got a slight touch of +rheumatics in the arm. But,’ he said, ‘when you get +to Hamburg, you can satisfy yourself by sending this +man to the asylum.’ We did. Two days–and he +was back.”</p> + +<p>Meacock’s laconic phrases were accompanied with +grimaces which told the tale to perfection.</p> + +<p>The atmosphere had grown so literary that Mead +now took pencil and paper with him to his day watch +as a matter of course. The pages of the <i>Optimist</i> were +beginning to look somewhat laboured. He determined +to infuse a new vein. So a series of vividly +coloured hoaxes came into existence, the first of +which, a harem story, was too much in its full bloom +for the editor’s acceptance. Not surprised, and not +dejected, Mead offered “The Pirate,” and it duly +appeared. These fictions ended, as did their successors, +with a disillusionment:</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p>“And then what happened?”</p> +<p>“The film broke.”</p> +</div> + +<p>It was about the period of hoaxes–April 1 arrived. +Bicker appeared at my cabin, where I was reading. +“Meacock wants to see you.” I went. Bicker +triumphed, and went his way convinced that he could +beat the intellectual at his own game, as the <i>Optimist</i> +had already shown him he could.</p> + +<p>A brighter sky and cooler wind came on. We were +soon expected at Saint Vincent. The new moon and +calmer waters brought one evening of strange watery +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163'></a>163</span> +beauty. Towards his setting the sun had hidden himself +in black clouds, whence he threw a silver light over +sea spaces where sea and sky were meeting: he sank, +and left the heavens like green havens, with these +clouds slowly sailing through their utmost peace. +The change soon came; the head wind brought pale +grey turbulent days, with the ship playing at rocking-horses; +over the head wind and rousing sea, the +healthy sun at length dawned on the Sunday of our +arrival at Saint Vincent. Sunday, without the voice +of church bells or the sight of people going to worship, +seemed no Sunday despite its idle hours: at least, the +mood sometimes took me so.</p> + +<p>The third engineer was acquiring no mean name as +a cutter of hair, and I felt the cold after I had been +to his open-air chair, near the engine-room staircase. +While I sat to him, a characteristic of the mess-room +boy was borne on the air from the chief’s room. It +was his habit of replying hastily to any observation, +“Yes, yes,” and this time the chief’s voice was heard: +“Curse you, John, for a blasted nuisance.” “Yes, +yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>As the sun was stooping under the sea once more, +land grew into sight far ahead; mountain or cloud? +The mountainous coast was mocked indeed by great +continents of cloud above, of its own grey hue. The +wind blew hard, but at ten o’clock we were running +in under the rocky pinnacles of Saint Vincent, against +the blustering wind and the black racing sea. A light +or two, chiefly from other steamers, told something +of the port. The crescent moon, cloaked in a circling +golden mist, was now near setting. We anchored +and spent the night in quiet.</p> + +<p>A mile or so from our anchorage, in the morning’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164'></a>164</span> +clear air, huddled the pink unsightly little town. At +distance the heights of rock looked as unsubstantial +as Prospero’s magic; the clouds that swam over +them and across their steeps might have been solid, +so phantasmal were those rocks. Not so with the +stony masses overpeering the town; those in their +iron-brown nakedness had the aspect of eternal +immobility. The air was cold and lucent; the water +halcyon blue. Several tramps with rusty black and +red, and a sailing ship or two, lay around the <i>Bonadventure</i>; +barges of a rough old make clustered closer +in to shore.</p> + +<p>The invasion by natives began early. A dozen +boats were tossing on the waves alongside, with woolly +heads and upward eyes seeking what or whom they +might devour, and quiet-footed rogues here and +there on the decks were trying to sell matches, cigarettes, +and red bead handbags. To their attempts, +the politest answer was “No good.” “No caree?” +Nobody seemed to care. Some of our firemen whose +homes were here had gone ashore, with the air of men +allowing their old haunts to share their glory.</p> + +<p>Two lighters, coppered below, bearded with dark +green weed, blundered alongside with bags of coal, +and soon the gangs, a grimy and ragged collection, +were getting the bags aboard, and the winch +grumbling away. Yet it was now made known +that we were not to pick up much coal here, but to +proceed to Las Palmas for the bulk of our wants. +This was unfortunate for the firemen who had gone +home. All too soon the blue peter at half-mast and +the blowing of the hooter recalled them.</p> + +<p>Now, too, it was rumoured that our port of discharge +was to be Emden, in Hanover: but of such +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165'></a>165</span> +arrangements it became more difficult to feel assurance.</p> + +<p>At midday we left. The most valued effect of our +call at Saint Vincent was the receipt of some giant +flying-fishes, which we got, one apiece, at tea. It was +only by virtue of perseverance that a man could +consume his ration. They were good, if dry.</p> + +<p>If I were a Bewick, I have in mind a little tailpiece +for this chapter. It would display, for the careful +eye, the hatless Kelly filleting a flying fish, against +the bunker hatch, for his friend the cat, who should +be gazing up with cupboard love at her unshaven +protector. The direction of the wind, in true Bewick +style, should be implied in a sprinkling of coal-dust +settling on the new paint of the “House.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166'></a>166</span><a id='link_27'></a>XXVII</h2> + +<p>Glittering bright, northern weather outside. +“Channel weather,” as it was described at breakfast. +Whatever it might be, I was Jonah; fine, Jonah +bringing a head wind; wet, Jonah bringing the +wet; the ship rolling, it was Jonah’s additional +weight on the port side that was doing it; and so on. +The suggestion arose that the villain should be +offered to the first whale sighted; but “We should +have more respect for the whale,” said Phillips. Nor +could I be sure that I was not blamed for all finger +marks on the new paint. Meacock had been the +eye-witness of one crime of mine of the sort. “If +you touch that new enamel, your name’s mud”–and +then the <i>Bonadventure</i> obliged with a lurch sideways +which left the impression of my hand in a most +prominent place.</p> + +<p>A more serious disgrace even befel me. Bicker +and Meacock involved me in an argument, which +was very quickly twisted into the direct question. +“Who was England’s greatest man?” Some +wretched ghost whispered Shakespeare, and Shakespeare +I named. There was derision. Shakespeare! +Nelson was the man. I was obliged to stick to my +choice. “We’re talking about fellows that <span class='sc'>DID</span> +something for their country,” said Meacock, and I +gave up. Bicker was once agaia <i>in excelsis</i> at this +evidence of his superior understanding, which he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167'></a>167</span> +seemed about to back up with physical argument. +The shade of Nelson was vindicated; and then, I +was informed that the second greatest man was +Kitchener. I asked with innocent ignorance what +he had effected of particular significance to our own +lives? A photograph was produced of the earlier, more +Achillean Kitchener, by way of settling <i>that</i> point.</p> + +<p>Meeting Kelly in the galley one evening as I went +along to make my cocoa, I was detained to hear of +the wonders of Hamburg; and to watch Tich making +a Cornish cake with ingredients mysteriously come +by. Kelly was also of opinion that Hamburg’s high +place among towns was due to a dancing saloon, +where birthday suits were the fashion. “Flash +society,” he said with admiration. I was sorry to +hear that in the argument over great men I had +missed the sight of one whale. Thus it is with the +conversationally inclined: pursuing minnows of our +opinion, we miss the leviathans of fact.</p> + +<p>Days of reviving fine weather and swaying sea in +hills and hollows, flinging proud manes of spray aloft +for the sun to gild with rainbows again and again, +gave place to one of skies generally overcast. Cold +blues and greens came and went above us; the wind +blew bleak over a steely sea. Land came into view +on the port beam. Above it the clouds hung in dim +phantasmagoria; a gleam of silver white below +announced the coast, and, now sparkling, now dull, +the lie of the land presented itself to our gaze. And +this was Grand Canary. The mountain’s sides +seemed chequered with forest; at its bases white +villages glistened; and further on, a conical peak and +headlands grew on the eye.</p> + +<p>The sea had lately been crowded with porpoises, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168'></a>168</span> +acre upon acre; and here another vast assembly +crossed our track. To a credulous eye, as they leapt +along, they might have painted the image of several +sea serpents writhing through the waves. Above +them wheeled a flock of gulls, intent I supposed on +fishing.</p> + +<p>The cathedral of Las Palmas appeared in mirage; +then the <i>Bonadventure</i> rounded the coast until the +town came clearly before us. It was to the harbour +just beyond the town that we were making. As we +approached, boats came rowing ferociously towards +us. One crew threw hooks carrying ropes over our +bulwarks, and sent a man aboard. His skill would +have done a spider credit; but to no purpose did he +exert it, for the hooks were thrown back and the +invader held prisoner on the bridge during Hosea’s +pleasure. When we anchored, a fleet of boats sprang +up around us, the chances of any individual one, of +course, for the privilege of supplying us with a bum-boatman +being smallish. Not long afterwards, the +ship was swarming with miscellaneous merchants, +and merchandise. Bananas, monkeys, canaries, cigarettes, +cigars, photographs (chiefly improper), wicker +chairs, matches, field glasses, parakeets and other +useful articles were pressed upon every one aboard +who could possibly be tackled. Some of the canaries +were heard whistling loud and long, and yet Kelly +found that the bird which he bought, a seeming +musician, was mute.</p> + +<p>No cabin was left unguarded. It was pointed out +that one gentleman offered plain proof of knavery; +on his right foot he wore an English boot, on the left +a tennis shoe. They were all tarred with the same +brush: “Worse than Port Said.” I do not think +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169'></a>169</span> +they found much opportunity to enhance the reputation +at our expense.</p> + +<p>A tug, the <i>Gando</i>, immediately re-named the <i>Can-do</i>, +brought out our lighters of coal. At that signal, an +interesting enterprise moved nearer to us. When +bags are being slung over from hold to hold, a good +deal of coal is dropped into the water; and so the +enterprise consisted in a small barge, with the men, +and material, for sending down divers to rescue the +estrays. The diver was a huge fellow, curiously +wearing a red tam-o’-shanter. He of course went +down in a diving suit to survey the ocean; when he +thrust his muzzle out of the water again, up would +come at the same time his two bushel baskets; and +as these were almost full of coal, presumably that +department of salvage had its rewards.</p> + +<p>After much criticized anxiety about winches and +blocks and guys, our stevedore gangs began their +work at good speed. I was again dressed up in a +borrowed boiler suit for the duties of tallyman. The +weather became burning hot. The coal-dust flew +round in copious whirlpool. After an hour I was full +of discomfort, and not to be distinguished from any +of the coal heavers. Work continued in such hearty +fashion that I gathered that it was piece work. The +foreman was another giant, with such a belly on him +that whenever he gesticulated–that was often–stamping +his foot and brandishing his hands, that +belly really and truly quaked. His voice was not a +success. He would have roared like thunder, but +only a feeble croaking left his snapping jaws.</p> + +<p>By six our bunker coals had been put aboard, I +discarded my honourable discomfort, my mask of +grime, and my piratical appearance. The dealers +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170'></a>170</span> +in Constantinople canaries and cork soles withdrew. +About the harbour of La Luz, the lights came out in +the houses and aboard the shipping; the masts and +yards stood out calm against a quiet coloured evening, +the water rippled with no skirmish nor much voice +to our sides. Beyond the towns, the mountains +gloomed with the dreams of romantic journeys.</p> + +<p>An hour or so afterwards, the welcome though +broken melody of the anchor’s uprising heralded our +departure. It had been a colourable interlude. I +remember it best by a circular handed out by +“Gumersindo Alejandro, Bumboat Business.” It +ran through the rigmarole of desirable articles, a few +of which I have named above, and concluded</p> + +<div class='center'> +<p>“and all kinds of silks suitable<br /> +for presents and use.”</p> +</div> <!-- centered --> + +<p>A harsh description of presents? Perhaps.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171'></a>171</span><a id='link_28'></a>XXVIII</h2> + +<p>By some mystical means, the mates had charmed +away from our Las Palmas visitors at small cost or +none an unusual supply of cigars and cigarettes. +These brightened up the melancholy purser, who was +now approaching the end of his employment. There +were still, however, many things to amuse his leisure. +How often the table talk had come to the subject of +hell and its occupants! The latter seemed to be–after +the landlubbers–shipowners, ship’s chandlers, ship’s +tailors, and Customs men. Curious pictures were +projected of notorious shipowners of the past, now +compelled to wield the shovel next to the firemen late +of their employ. As to the unfortunate Customs +officials, witness A and B.</p> + +<p>A. “... Yes, he quite got pally with this Customs +fellow―?”</p> + +<p>B (<i>older than A, hastily interrupting</i>): “I wouldn’t +trust any Customs fellow, not if he’d got a pair of +b― wings on.”</p> + +<p>The <i>Optimist</i> went on its way with the weeks. +Mead added “The Vamp” to his cabinet of tales of +mystery; but the strain of discovering subjects apart +from the steward and the galley was clearly growing. +The prominence of food and meal times upon a tramp +was described in a ballad published about this +time.</p> + +<p style='font-variant:small-caps;margin-left:6em;'>Thoughts of a Romantic.</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172'></a>172</span>Ten thousand miles from land are we,</p> +<p> Hark how the wild winds pipe!</p> +<p>What grand reflection swells in me?</p> +<p> This morning we’ll have tripe.</p> +<p> </p> +<p>For ever and evermore</p> +<p> These billows rage and swell;</p> +<p>O may I, through their angry roar,</p> +<p> Not miss the breakfast bell.</p> +<p> </p> +<p>Here octopi, here great white whales,</p> +<p> Here krakens haunt the Main;</p> +<p>Mad mermaids sing–my courage fails–</p> +<p> Here comes Harriet Lane.<a id='FNanchor_2'></a><a href='#Footnote_2' class='fnanchor'><sup>[2]</sup></a></p> +<p> </p> +<p>There, far far down, what jewels lie,</p> +<p> What corals, red enough</p> +<p>To make this sauce<a id='FNanchor_3'></a><a href='#Footnote_3' class='fnanchor'><sup>[3]</sup></a> seem pale, which I</p> +<p> Am wolfing with my duff!</p> +<p> </p> +<p>To think that one lone ship should thus</p> +<p> Ride o’er the greedy seas!</p> +<p>Alas! what will become of us</p> +<p> Now we’ve run out of cheese?<a id='FNanchor_4'></a><a href='#Footnote_4' class='fnanchor'><sup>[4]</sup></a></p> +</div> + +<p>The northern spring came into the air. Scraps of +the casual verse of one English poet who never tired +of the year afield started up in memory now, where +the pondered solemn music of others had no reverberation; +and so for the rest of my voyage. The sea +for a time grew intensely calm, the swell seeming to +swim along under a mantle of pearl or quicksilver. +The undulating surface stretched to the horizon, +unbroken anywhere by restless foam; and over this +calm lay the golden track to the setting sun. When +presently a breeze ruffled this strange sleep, it was +as though shoals of tiny fishes had everywhere risen +to the surface; and in one or two places, those +bubbling, flickering shoals were actual and not +imaginary.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173'></a>173</span>As if schooled by misfortune, Sparks now posted +up in the port alleyway a statement of football results +and tables; so that many bosoms aboard needed no +longer to feel a heaving anxiety. A turtle lazily +floated by, watched by many who could have +welcomed him on deck; a whale passed, shouldering +and spouting the brine; and shortly, as the midnight +moon had portended, the dark green sea began to run +in hilly ridges, sometimes sluicing the decks, and +tilting the <i>Bonadventure</i> to one side or the other. +Grey rain-squalls flew over us now and then; but, +considering our near approach to the redoubtable +Bay, we were in excellent weather. The mate, however, +was not one to take chances; and certain +barrels, an anvil and a few other heavy movables +were shifted from the windward side of the engines.</p> + +<p>The steward and his adjutant had now little time +certain in which to reform my room, so they fell upon +it with paint brushes and “flat white” in vigorous +style; it had been my hope to be allowed this labour, +but I remembered my “Tom Sawyer,” where painting +as a recreation was so truly valued. Mouldytop +was seldom seen in these days without his pot and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174'></a>174</span> +brush; he went at it from dawn to midnight and +then did overtime. My room was turned into a +whited sepulchre, which is better than a sooted +one, but as it was a sort of receptacle for coal-dust, +which was coal grease withal, even when port, +ventilator and door were all closed, it was to be +feared, <i>tamen usque recurret</i>, it would be black again +in a week.</p> + +<p>We came into a region of ships, tramps like ourselves +for the most part, and the less handsome +oil-tankers also. Finisterre lighthouse shone kindly +upon us. With a fair wind, the concourse of shipping +dwindling away somewhat as we went on, we now +entered the Bay. Our angles began to be anything +but right, but it was much gentler weather than I +had any reason to need. Fair as it was for us, save +for the cinders that fell in showers amidships, the +vessels running in the teeth of the weather were pitching +with vigour. Grey and shrouded the sea met us +in hills and valleys, with white ridges and flecked +with foaming veins; as we went further into the +famous corner, the <i>Bonadventure</i> could not but roll +and lurch as though she liked it, and the waves were +mountainous; yet out there we passed a fishing boat +making beautiful weather of it.</p> + +<p>The second mate, Bicker, could scarcely get any +sleep; but not on any score of weather or discomfort. +All his watch below, or most of it, one might see him +standing at his sea chest with pen scratching away at +the forthcoming <i>Optimist</i>. So sweet is journalism +when wooed as a casual mistress. Shall I go on? +No.</p> + +<p>My trouble was not what to write but what to read. +Even Young’s <i>Night Thoughts</i>, buried in annotations +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175'></a>175</span> +reverent and irreverent, began to grow familiar +beyond all reason. <i>Pears’ Cyclopædia</i>, <i>Brown’s +Nautical Almanac</i>, <i>The South Indian Ocean Pilot</i>, +<i>Phrenology for All</i>, and other borrowed books, were +all at much the same stage. This ship was not the +one recently reported in the newspapers in which the +chief read poetry like a passion, the cook chewed +Froude with his morning crust, and the cabin-boy +needed the help of Hegel. I forget if those were the +actual claims, but in any case that was another ship. +About now, an accident happened to my Young. +It seemed as if a Poltergeist had visited the spare +cabin port during the night, for awaking I found my +settee, and the <i>Night Thoughts</i> thereon, waterlogged. +Perhaps the heavy rain had been answerable for this, +but I could not see how–my port was closed. Poltergeist +had spared my novel, lying next to Young: +evidently he thought that already watery enough. +Young, immortal, made a surprising recovery.</p> + +<p>Now, we were nearing the one country. It needed +no drab island of Ushant with its lighthouse to tell +me this; for hardly had I put down in my diary +“Much milder,” when it became necessary to write +“Much colder.” The tumults of the Bay were over +and gone, and we were under a dun sky dropping +rain which obviously belonged to the English Channel.</p> + +<p>We swung round Ushant and became more aware +of the ups and downs of navigation; these were less +noticeable as we ran on. The prospect, or say circumspect +of the day was narrowed in by dismal rainstorm, +and once more it was a bleak amusement trying +to make out the forms of ships through the foggy +veils. The wind moaning, the rain splashing, +measured out long hours, till all saddened into night +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176'></a>176</span> +with little to notice, save the gulls and divers whom +such weather suited well. At any rate we were not +unfortunate in our direction. The <i>Hammonia</i> going +the other way with passengers showed us that by +contrast.</p> + +<p>The night elapsed, we came abeam of the Isle of +Wight, which showed but indistinctly, though the +day was cold and steady. Calm indeed lay the green +Channel up which the <i>Bonadventure</i> with speed +sufficient to please Phillips was making her way. +Ships, or their smoky evidences, made the time pass +quickly. It was Good Friday, a great day for my +childhood in Kent, land of plum-pudding-dogs and +monkey-tail trees, a day when I heard, as indeed my +elder companions had long foretold, the church bells +rung muffled; although I was disappointed in the +purple cassocks which, tradition fabled, would be +worn by the choir on that day. Lent (and Advent +too for that matter) was solemn then and real, outside +of churches; and with Good Friday it appeared +undeniable that there had been done some thing at +which Nature must go in mourning. The three +hours’ service, like the watch that rang out the dying +year and rang in the new, was in every one’s thought +that we met; such ceremony was not for nothing. +The melancholy hymns of the season were more than +sung verses.</p> + +<p>To-day, at least, we had hot-cross buns to our +breakfast. So is the Lord remembered in these years +of discretion. The sailors had the day to themselves.</p> + +<p>Our course lay more or less east, and brought us a +succession of glimpses of shining cliffs and misty +downs. Off Dover we saw both coasts at once. In +1919 I hoped I had seen the last of that piece of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177'></a>177</span> +France. Running out of this strait into the North +Sea under a shrewish though a moderate wind, we +passed a number of fishermen, and what struck my +mind with the strangeness almost of the Flying +Dutchman, a three-masted barque under full sail, at +a distance. It was sunset at the time. She caught +the light and bowed upon her journey, a sweet sight, +too quickly lost in the dark. Soon we picked up the +flash of a lightship off the Dutch shore, and soon after +that the cold to which my wanderings had not made +me careless sent me inside.</p> + +<p>Chilly brightness and blue sky saw us making +rapidly over the North Sea, visited by thrushes and +linnets, while the water seemed crowded with those +clever birds, though so gawky upon the wing, the +divers. We crossed the wake of an oil-tank, burning +the water almost like the witch’s oils in “The Ancient +Mariner,” and scenting the air unlike those abstractions; +came to a lightship, where our course was +altered; and met the pilot cutter in a calm sea and +air vivid with sun and cold about four. The rope +ladder went down, the row-boat came alongside, and +the pilot was taken up to the bridge. I could not +repress odd emotions at thus seeing again “Brother +Boche”–he looked a replica of ancient types of my +acquaintance–after such a long separation.</p> + +<p>The estuary of the Ems received us, a flat sheet of +water, with low coastlands only noticed by reason of +towers here and there. The tides obliged us to anchor +some miles outside Emden at six, and to wait until +midnight. The sky darkened and loured into rain. +At twelve in a black and gusty night, to the accompaniment +of much hooting and shouting, the <i>Bonadventure</i> +moved up the river, and in the greyness and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178'></a>178</span> +chill of daybreak berthed in a quiet basin at Emden.</p> + +<p>Through this last movement I had tried to snatch +some sleep, but was harassed by the socialism of +Bicker and Mead, who considered it but fair that as +they were being deprived of their sleep, I should be +deprived of mine. They, therefore, visited me at +intervals, switched on my fan which was now quite +unnecessary, prodded me with toasting-forks, and so +saluted the happy morn, like those larks which were +now singing and soaring to justify any praise of them +that ever was written.</p> + +<hr style='border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; height: 1px; width: 3em; text-align: left; margin: 10px auto 10px 0;' /> + +<div class='footnote'><a id='Footnote_2'></a><a href='#FNanchor_2'><span class='label'>[2]</span></a> +<p>“Harriet Lane.” The name of that unfortunate lady is +often applied to the curious tinned meat provided aboard.</p> +</div> <!-- footnote --> + +<div class='footnote'><a id='Footnote_3'></a><a href='#FNanchor_3'><span class='label'>[3]</span></a> +<p>“This sauce.” A pink luxury poured over Sunday’s +duff.</p> +</div> <!-- footnote --> + +<div class='footnote'><a id='Footnote_4'></a><a href='#FNanchor_4'><span class='label'>[4]</span></a> +<p>“Cheese.” In these closing lines the poet’s hope was to +record the actual expression of the saloon in general on +receipt of the steward’s pronouncement: “That there was +no more cheese.”</p> +</div> <!-- footnote --> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179'></a>179</span><a id='link_29'></a>XXIX</h2> + +<p>On Easter Day the sun–it was an old proverb–will +dance; and this time he was in the mood. We lay +in a basin like other tramps; beyond, there clustered +red roofs with blessed ungainly angles, a pleasing +sight after those southern flat ones of grey. Farther +off, the church spire climbed above the trees, and +though many people in their Sunday dress were +walking that way, more were taking their rounds +beside these docks.</p> + +<p>It was as certainly good to be here as that spring +was here. The chirrup of sparrows, jubilate of larks, +noises of poultry, bleating of lambs from an enclosure +of young fruit trees close at hand, and the play of +children, were all comely and reviving.</p> + +<p>Alas! that the Easter gift of the ship’s officers +should have been so out of tune. An old gentleman +of the same outlook as Polonius, the broker, brought +a packet of letters aboard at breakfast, and among +these were the wrong kind of Easter tidings–statements +of their reductions in wages. They accepted +this falling off without murmur, save for a few dry +remarks.</p> + +<p>A motor-boat came bringing the stores, and, to the +disgust of the cook and other watchers, a great stack +of long loaves, altogether leathery in external appearance. +Most of these were returned. The ship’s +chandler must have thought we were arriving in force. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180'></a>180</span> +Our own boat was tied at the foot of the gangway, and +the apprentices told off as ferrymen for the time being.</p> + +<p>Next day the larks were aloft again, and their +melody, marvellous after long absence from it, came +dropping from heaven as undiminished, one would +say, as raindrops falling. So clear it sounded there +even when they were in the clouds. Meanwhile the +bosun and party were getting the winches and derricks +into trim, with less silver voices: “H-h-hup, H-h-hup: +Let go a little: Here, youse....”</p> + +<p>It was not unwelcome when the evening came, and +Mead, Bicker, and their friend so soon to be returned +to duty set out up the cobbled road to Emden; most +bitter was the east wind blowing down the long +colonnades of trees, and we hastened into the sheltering +streets of the little town. We found it a quiet and +beautiful place of ornamentation, and gables and +high houses, with a canal in the midst. Masterly +seemed its spire, stretching up into the sky with +unexpected height and charming ease. It was Easter +Monday, and many folks were walking out–we +looked curiously about us, and while none were +anything but tidy and decent, none had any of the +symptoms of much and to spare. They were +evidently poor, but far from poor in spirit.</p> + +<p>We were puzzled by the Sabbath look of things to +find a place to sit down and apply some antidote to +the effects of that rawish east wind. We began +drifting as usual, when an old fellow in black coat +and Homburg hat pushed past us, mumbling something. +A light came swiftly into the eyes of Mead +and Bicker; the old fellow was fragrant with good +beer. We asked him for directions. He was off at +once in a loud, hard voice: “By Jesus Christ and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181'></a>181</span> +General Jackson,” he began (and <i>da capo</i>), “the two +best men in America. You come to my house.” +Following him, and coping with his repeated invocations +of the Messiah and the General, and requests +for an opinion of his English speech, we arrived by and +by. He was an innkeeper, and (by Jesus Christ) +“an old sailing man himself.”</p> + +<p>The inn parlour was most excellently warm, free +and easy. We set to with hot grog, the brimmer +being rebrimmed (if my memory serves me) not once +nor twice. The room was not one which depressed. +Around it hung daubs of full-rigged ships of Batavia +in the fifties and sixties; there was an automatic +weighing machine, a most magnificent penny-in-the-slot +piano, and another apparatus for extracting +copper from the air, dressed up as a blue windmill, +but I did not inquire what it was expected to yield. +And the wall-paper was tapped with an ample border, +in which one saw smooth waters, placid smacks, and +more windmills.</p> + +<p>The other occupants of the room were the quiet +set at the tables, a drunken Finn seaman with one +arm in bandages, a dark-haired musician, the landlord +and his wife and their good-looking daughter; while +from the private house other members of the family +came and went at need, as will be seen.</p> + +<p>We provided the landlord with grog. He melted +with gratitude, rose, and set his horrible piano going, +whose wicked hammers champed upon some of the +harshest wires outside of the barbed-wire dumps. +And what is more, whenever the piano began, our +friend the Finn thought his hour had come to shine, +and essayed a sort of stamping, stooping dance across +the floor. This led to persuasion. The landlord +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182'></a>182</span> +persuaded, the landlady persuaded, unclassified assistants +persuaded, and presently the dancer was pleased +to be seated once more, exclaiming, “When I come +aboard he says to me, he says, ‘All right, Captain, all +right, all right.’” No sooner did the music begin +afresh than this enthusiast would rise up relentlessly +as though hypnotized (by the pæan) and perhaps +stamp out a bar or two before being replaced by combined +efforts. This kept on happening.</p> + +<p>None the less, the landlord, who had apparently +spent the day in liquid rejoicings, was swallowing +grog and growing taleful. He claimed all sorts of +sea service and seemed to know what he was talking +about, posed even my expert friends with the sailing-ship +question: What’s the difference in build between +a Scotch ship, a Nova Scotian, and a Yankee? Boxing +too was in his line: “Scholar of John L. Sullivan,” +he assured us, and directed admiration to his fist, +which was normal. From taleful he waxed tuneful. +“I’m a chanty-man, y’know,” and wiping back his +gingery-white whiskers he groaned out “Blow the +man down,” and “The streams of our native Australia,” +in dreadful style. After these, finding himself +strangely appreciated, he offered and began “a real +English song, y’know–exchoose me, y’know, if I +don’t speak the plain English.” It was “The Maid +of the Mill.” His rendering was a strain on our tact, +and too much for one of the young ladies of the house, +who was smitten with a fit of giggling most right and +justifiable. At that, the old villain flew into a +ridiculous passion, jumped up, and was for hitting +this girl. He was restrained.</p> + +<p>After this unwanted diversion, he returned and +(with starts of rage) barked out the rest of his song. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183'></a>183</span> +His wolfhound began, and we began, to find the +vocalist a nuisance; and as the evening wore on, I +thought the authentic musician, who played the +violin, was beginning to resent our presence and +success. The daughter of the house foolishly sat at +our table. The musician, however, was soothed +with an honorarium, and with much “Auf wieder-sehen!” +we went. Even now, however, it was thought +unseemly to reach the ship in one journey, so halts +were called twice; and once aboard, the usual arguments +kept us out of our beds until four or so in the +morning.</p> + +<p>The two grain-elevators in the port were still busy +with a Greek steamer, so that, apart from painting, +the <i>Bonadventure</i> was idle, and there was little to do +but row over to the canteens and return with +undreamed-of quantities of chocolate and cigarettes. +Cigars were, to us, as lightly bought as matches. +As to the painting, it was again mysterious that two +of the apprentices fell off the stage on which they +were working alongside; they were soon dressed in +borrowed plumage. Suddenly in the evening our +discharge began.</p> + +<p>Lighters of the local type, very long and narrow, +were already alongside when the tugs swung the first +elevator into his place. The huge floating turret +looked somewhat like a smock mill. The stevedores +quickly made fast their tackle: four large drain-pipe +tubes were let down into the chosen hold, and the +suckers commenced. There was a drumming boom +of machinery, mixed with the swish of the ingulfing +of the grain and its disgorging through broader conduits +on the other side of the elevator into the river +barges. It grew dark, the red and green railway +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184'></a>184</span> +lights burned fiercely in brisk air against the last of +an orange sunset. But the elevator was kept at work, +and arc lights hung over the hold showed the novel +scene of the sliding grain and its trimmers.</p> + +<p>One effect of the late-continued drone and thud of +the elevator was to torment me with war dreams. +First I was in an attack, among great rocks, under a +violent barrage; then, on one of those unforgettable +raw, dark mornings, I was at the window of a great +ruined house behind the line, watching the bleary +effulgence of the Very lights starting up here and +there and expecting the worst from a nasty silence, +only pierced by single shell-bursts. Then, beside +the elevator, an infuriated and intoxicated bargee +stood on the landing-stage about midnight bawling +for a boat which didn’t come. His patience was, +however, considerable; he bawled for a long hour. +In consequence, I suppose, of these matters I arrived +very late at breakfast amid the usual cries of “You +Jonah, you!”</p> + +<p>The second elevator arrived, and, like some great +iron insect with many beaks, began to swallow up +the grain from the holds aft. The ship shook with +the speed and power of the pumping machinery; the +long lighters with their great round-table steering +wheels filled up, battened down, and swung away. +In one of the holds there were the bags put in at +Ingeniero White; under them again lay the yellow +grain in mass. The elevator’s proboscis dipped into +that grain, while the trimmers unstowed, slit and +emptied the sacks; so the ship began to lighten, and +her bow already stood high out of the water.</p> + +<p>The red evening sky was smoky with cold; then +the stars sparkled with frost; and a small gathering +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185'></a>185</span> +enjoyed the oil stove in Bicker’s room. The steward, +in unusual radiance, came in presently, and sang a +long song concerning a tramp who was flung off a +freight train by a brakesman. “Because he was +only a tramp” (<i>dying fall</i>).</p> + +<p>This might have been a comment on Mr. W. H. +Davies’ Autobiography. Warmed with his singing +and other helps, the steward began to recall his +acquaintance (on guard) with Royalty, and spun off +at tangents with affairs half a century more recent: +“That b― flaming butcher– I was going to hit +him with a box of matches,” and other incidents. I +was sorry to hear the lank Chips, the next morning, +bawling at the entrance of the saloon a complaint +about the toughness of his meat; the steward’s new +mood deserved anything but that sort of damper.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186'></a>186</span><a id='link_30'></a>XXX</h2> + +<p>With little to do, I fought a sort of pillow fight +with Meacock, our weapons being sacks well stuffed; +he won, of course, but it was a popular bout. Then +there were acrobatic performances on the stays +of the funnel. The need I had for training appeared +on our last night in Emden Port, when my sleep +was nipped in the bud by the entry of Bicker and +Mead. Both had the clear spirits raised, in two +senses; both thickened voices already thick enough. +They were disguised (Mead’s fancy, I warrant) as +members of the Ku-Klux-Klan; and besides their +costume one bore a revolver, the other an air gun +impounded from an apprentice. I was ordered out +of bed, but wished to stop; we argued about it and +by good luck I hung on. After this, insidious, they +declared that a lady who knew me and wished to +see me had come aboard. This flight of fancy and +flow of language went on until they sought variety, +which they found in painting the unfortunate Tich +in the alley below in several colours.</p> + +<p>The German police, green men and true, watched the +ship closely. It was rumoured that a shipping clerk +and a young woman had eloped and were aboard one +of the tramps. “Love in a foc’sle,” especially +ours, was considered no bad joke.</p> + +<p>One more home circle was held in the starboard +alleyway towards midnight; gin very prevalent, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187'></a>187</span> +and the steward also. He fell into a sequence of +army recollections, which (as the glass was thrust +replenished into his hand) began on this pattern, +“Well, I’m telling you, Mister, at three in the afternoon +of March the twelfth 1873, we was parading +outside the Queen’s pavilion....” Once more also +Mead and myself made our way into Emden. The +old nooks of buildings and the vistas of narrow +thoroughfares and lazy waterways, the shops and +the folk, all made a kindly picture; after supper, +we avoided a downpour of sleet in a café with an +orchestra, whose repertory of 4,000 pieces included +two by English composers, and his name was Sullivan. +On our midnight way home, we stopped at a Dutchman’s +bar and asked for and got a dozen hard-boiled +eggs for a second supper aboard. I was carrying a +parcel in hand and two bottles, or rather gas-cylinders, +of gin in the lining of my mackintosh when we reached +the German sentry-box beside the Quay. He puffed +at his pipe as he felt the parcel and saw that all +was well.</p> + +<p>The iron in the ship began to sweat great drops, and +the walls of one’s bunk glistened with damp. The +glass was falling; the water of the basin no longer +lay smooth as oil but beat against the ship grudgingly. +In short, excellent Flanders weather ensued the old-established +weather, guaranteed to cure rabid individuals +of war cant after one hour’s trial (unshelled) +on sentry-go or at the ration dump. For the worst +and even hopeless cases, half an hour’s trial on the +banks of the Steenbeck was confidently recommended–I +was lucky now to have a roof leaking but little. +Phillips showed me the one dry corner in his room–a +portion of the settee about a foot square.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188'></a>188</span>Hosea’s wife joined us in the saloon, and not +only by her genial presence itself merited our best +thanks, but also by her influence on the steward. As +if by magic, Ideal milk was added to our tinned pears +(usually, apricots); and the jam changed to strawberry.</p> + +<p>At length the elevators ceased from troubling, and +the supervisors from dilating in <i>Platt Deutsch</i> over the +damage in the bilges. The bosun’s strangled noise +timed the hoisting of the ship’s boat, which had had a +busy holiday, to its normal place. The little broker +made his last appearance round the steward’s +precincts; and with the heaving up of the gangway, +the arrival of the tugs, the return of the wireless +aerial to its heights and the smoking funnel–it, +no doubt, never looked better–we were ready to +depart.</p> + +<p>It was twilight when our ropes fore and aft were +loosed from the dolphins, and the <i>Bonadventure</i> +slowly moved into the lock. Here while the port +authorities made a swift inspection for stowaways +and concluded their arrangements, we stopped a time, +listening to the odd mixture of noise from bleating +of sheep and hooting of our whistle. Then we moved +out to sea, not without bumping into the lock wall +and gashing the bow. The air was intensely cold, +and the iron frameworks against the last tinges of +sunset and the red and white lights were now all +there was to see of our port of discharge. That +episode was over; after midnight, the ship stopped +at Borkum to put down the pilot, and then, on +again. My voyage was hurrying into memory.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189'></a>189</span><a id='link_31'></a>XXXI</h2> + +<p>Short seas running and a squally wind abeam made +the light ship jerk and roll. The early sun was +hidden in the dull purple of a racing sleet-cloud, +which passed over the <i>Bonadventure</i> and swept on +to lash the dunes of Holland lying dim blue along the +yellow horizon. The engines beat out a cheerful +tattoo and sent the ship, wobbling as she went, at +eleven knots through the green water. The wind +grew westerly but not sisterly; the melancholy +began to expatiate on the short text, “The Longships,” +but the profusion of fishing smacks out around us +seemed to show that no tempestuous weather was at +hand.</p> + +<p>The next morning, a spiritual Beachy Head was +glittering like crystal in the distance; while the +head wind fell upon us, and momently a great thud +like the impact of a great shell shook the ship’s +sizable frame and lifted her in see-saw style. I +watched the south coast sliding by with as much +excitement as if I had been coming home on leave +again. Meacock was at his most picturesque with his +reminiscences of a hard-case ship called the <i>Guildhall</i>, +but I could not retain what he told me, with +this distraction of English shores and skies about +us. The general scene recorded itself; of all the +magnificent evenings which my voyage had brought +forth this was perhaps the nonpareil. The skies +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190'></a>190</span> +were of tumultuous colour, requiring one of the old +Dutch masters to observe, let alone to reproduce. A +bright brazen sun, throwing at his whim (as it were) +his vesture of clouds about him, burnt out below a +pavement of light ever seething with the leaping +waves, and sometimes hidden, sometimes emerging, +lit the sky astern to a tawny glow, or left it sullen +as clay. Here, the horizon was an olive green, +there, a blue girdle; ships in stippled blackness +tilted this way and that against it, or nearer ploughed +grey expanses; and above pillars and cliffs of rocky +cloud lifted themselves enormously into a firmament +purpled or kindled into wild flame.</p> + +<p>So we hurtled along, the wind flawing, abeam, ahead. +The great prow mounted high against the sunset, or +thrust like the head of a porpoise down again into the +onslaught of rolling waters. The hand on the lookout +paced up and down the foc’sle head in loneliness, +the officer on the bridge answered his call as ever, +the seagulls followed the ship with their unvarying +calm and pride of wing. Presently the fine light +of Eddystone was our solace.</p> + +<p>The last day of my pursership dawned, a day I +welcomed and yet was sorry to find come. How +swiftly it stole by! At seven that morning we were +midway between the Longships lighthouse and that yet +lonelier one the Wolf, with Land’s End white with +snow to feast the eye. The sun was a Jolly Bacchus, +the waves dancing as green as the young leaves +sacred to that god, and the happy porpoises ambled +among them. Yet still, as we swung round the corner, +in a veritable procession of funnels and smoke trails, +a squall came down, heralded by a half-seen rainbow, +threw us rudely off the poise and chilled the air to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191'></a>191</span> +winter again. But round went the <i>Bonadventure</i> +and coasted beneath moors and tors sullenly green +into the Bristol Channel.</p> + +<p>The heavy rolling died away as we passed from the +Cornish shore (where they are said to eat strangers), +and my Emden chilblains felt the weather growing +much warmer. Indeed, we had not had so mild a day +since we left Las Palmas. Towards three we came +abreast of Lundy Island’s bluff, and Hartland +opposite, a sturdy cliff likewise. The tide helped us +well, but the wind was veering. Urged by those +officers and engineers whose wives would be at Barry +Docks this evening to greet them, and by his own +wishes, the chief had promised to bring the <i>Bonadventure</i> +to the tier in Barry Docks by seven.</p> + +<p>Ilfracombe nestling happily under the moors was +quickly passed; the <i>Bonadventure</i> could move when +she had a mind; the mellow green country of Somerset +parcelled in such English fashion with such straight +hedgerows, faded astern. The coast of Wales revealed +the twin lighthouses called the Nash Lights, and still +the ship raced on. Then, as if before the time, we +were entering the locks at Barry, in a smoky twilight, +after an evening shower; were inside, and tied up to +the tier.</p> + +<p>Not much remains to add. The next day I scrambled +down the rope ladder, and bade farewell to the +<i>Bonadventure</i>, that “dirty ship,” not unbeloved; +and Mead came next. The boat below carried us to +the quay, under the red hulls of ships gleaming +with the light from the dancing ripples; then came +paying off, a most unpunctual and irritating performance, +and good-byes to the old friends, from +Hosea to Kelly, of the last few months; and most +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192'></a>192</span> +of all, perhaps, to that gay spirit Mead. My good-bye +to these might be, I hoped, no such final one; +but my round trip was accomplished and I felt that +for me “there would be no more sea,” so that the +actual signing off of the purser seemed to me a +point in my life’s course. Then presently, after a +hearty last word with Mead–kind be the dog-watch +stars to him, wherever his ship carry him–I departed; +the last train for Slowe having, naturally, gone out, +I made for the nearest town to Slowe, and finishing +my journey part on foot, part on a borrowed bicycle, +was enabled to awaken Mary while the rest of the +parish of Staizley slept the sleep of the just.</p> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<a id='link_i1'></a><img src='images/illus-192.jpg' alt='' /> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Bonadventure, by Edmund Blunden + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BONADVENTURE *** + +***** This file should be named 32371-h.htm or 32371-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/3/7/32371/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.fadedpage.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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