Yes, sails may very well be blown away.And that would be like a death sentence on the men.We haven't strength enough on board to bend another suit; incredible thought, but it is true.Or we may even get dismasted.Ships have been dismasted in squalls simply because they weren't handled quick enough, and we have no power to whirl the yards around.It's like being bound hand and foot pre-paratory to having one's throat cut.And what appals me most of all is that I shrink from going on deck to face it.It's due to the ship, it's due to the men who are there on deck--some of them, ready to put out the last remnant of their strength at a word from me.And I am shrinking from it.From the mere vision.My first command.Now Iunderstand that strange sense of insecurity in my past.I always suspected that I might be no good.
And here is proof positive.I am shirking it.Iam no good."
***
At that moment, or, perhaps, the moment after, I became aware of Ransome standing in the cabin.
Something in his expression startled me.It had a meaning which I could not make out.I exclaimed:
"Somebody's dead."
It was his turn then to look startled.
"Dead? Not that I know of, sir.I have been in the forecastle only ten minutes ago and there was no dead man there then.""You did give me a scare," I said.
His voice was extremely pleasant to listen to.
He explained that he had come down below to close Mr.Burns' port in case it should come on to rain.
"He did not know that I was in the cabin," he added.
"How does it look outside?" I asked him.
"Very black, indeed, sir.There is something in it for certain.""In what quarter?"
"All round, sir."
I repeated idly: "All round.For certain," with my elbows on the table.
Ransome lingered in the cabin as if he had some-thing to do there, but hesitated about doing it.Isaid suddenly:
"You think I ought to be on deck?"
He answered at once but without any particular emphasis or accent: "I do, sir."I got to my feet briskly, and he made way for me to go out.As I passed through the lobby I heard Mr.Burns' voice saying:
"Shut the door of my room, will you, steward?"And Ransome's rather surprised: "Certainly, sir."I thought that all my feelings had been dulled into complete indifference.But I found it as try-ing as ever to be on deck.The impenetrable black-ness beset the ship so close that it seemed that by thrusting one's hand over the side one could touch some unearthly substance.There was in it an effect of inconceivable terror and of inexpressible mystery.The few stars overhead shed a dim light upon the ship alone, with no gleams of any kind upon the water, in detached shafts piercing an at-mosphere which had turned to soot.It was some-thing I had never seen before, giving no hint of the direction from which any change would come, the closing in of a menace from all sides.
There was still no man at the helm.The im-mobility of all things was perfect.If the air had turned black, the sea, for all I knew, might have turned solid.It was no good looking in any di-rection, watching for any sign, speculating upon the nearness of the moment.When the time came the blackness would overwhelm silently the bit of starlight falling upon the ship, and the end of all things would come without a sigh, stir, or murmur of any kind, and all our hearts would cease to beat like run-down clocks.
It was impossible to shake off that sense of finality.The quietness that came over me was like a foretaste of annihilation.It gave me a sort of comfort, as though my soul had become suddenly reconciled to an eternity of blind stillness.
The seaman's instinct alone survived whole in my moral dissolution.I descended the ladder to the quarter-deck.The starlight seemed to die out before reaching that spot, but when I asked quietly: "Are you there, men?" my eyes made out shadow forms starting up around me, very few, very indistinct; and a voice spoke: "All here, sir."Another amended anxiously:
"All that are any good for anything, sir."Both voices were very quiet and unringing; with-out any special character of readiness or discour-agement.Very matter-of-fact voices.
"We must try to haul this mainsail close up," I said.
The shadows swayed away from me without a word.Those men were the ghosts of themselves, and their weight on a rope could be no more than the weight of a bunch of ghosts.Indeed, if ever a sail was hauled up by sheer spiritual strength it must have been that sail, for, properly speaking, there was not muscle enough for the task in the whole ship let alone the miserable lot of us on deck.
Of course, I took the lead in the work myself.
They wandered feebly after me from rope to rope, stumbling and panting.They toiled like Titans.
We were half-an-hour at it at least, and all the time the black universe made no sound.When the last leech-line was made fast, my eyes, accustomed to the darkness, made out the shapes of exhausted men drooping over the rails, collapsed on hatches.
One hung over the after-capstan, sobbing for breath, and I stood amongst them like a tower of strength, impervious to disease and feeling only the sickness of my soul.I waited for some time fight-ing against the weight of my sins, against my sense of unworthiness, and then I said:
"Now, men, we'll go aft and square the mainyard.
That's about all we can do for the ship; and for the rest she must take her chance."
