“Was that a bulkhead, Wilson?”
“Couldn’t say, sir.”
Of course he could not. He was not going to give her away so easily. Colet winked at the boy, and began to pace their little prison; but paused and stretched his arms. No. Stop that. That worried the others. Better have a pipe.
“Are you allowed to smoke, Wilson?”
The seaman only smiled.
“Oh, he chews,” said Lycett, and tapped a cigarette on the desk.
Lycett had just struck eight bells when Collins, the second officer, put his head in the door.
“Leave this. You can go below now, the lot of you. When you’re wanted you’ll know.” He disappeared at once.
Colet roamed the deck amidships, accompanied only by the sough of the dark. Their own familiar and confident chant had ceased, that song which used to issue boldly from the open door of the engine-room casing as you passed it. No message but an infrequent clanking came up from below. Her heart had stopped. A flare or two, while he waited for signs, passed deep under the gratings. They were busy, in the depth of her; but doing what?
There was no doubt about it; when one walked aft it was distinctly to walk uphill. Her head was heavy. He tried to convince himself that this was not so. But it was.
There were no stars. There was only the steady drive of the dark. She was responding to it as though she were tired, stumbling and sluggish. Now and then a sea mounted over her foredeck. He looked at the shadows of some bent davits, with the swaying remnants of their falls, and heard a block mewling as it swung. That whining voice was the very trivialality of outer desolation. Creak. Whine. The captain’s daughter was taking her degree. A bit extra for her. Tonight, who was dining at the Gridiron?
Morning came. Colet went out, when his port-light had shaped, and saw the crew, for the first time that voyage. The men were assembled on the afterdeck, and they surprised him as much as would a miraculous visitation of quiet disinterested strangers. Most of them were squatting against the bulwarks, but a few stood gazing seaward, indifferently. It was a scene dim and unreal. The air was warm. Once clanking broke out below again, but did not last long. Neither the captain nor Sinclair were there. He could not see any of the engineers. Perhaps, though, they still hoped to pull her through. The cook appeared at his galley door above, and peremptorily called out that anybody who wanted anything could come for it. There was a cheer from the men, wavering but derisive, and they began to move up to the galley. They might have been ignorant, or they might have known they had plenty of time. The forward deck was level with the water; it could not rise; the head of the ship was a sunken warning. Its lowness prompted Colet at once to appraise the size of the heavy propulsions of the ocean; he looked beyond to see whether a sea higher than the rest was coming.
It was not coming yet. And the men were still murmuring about the galley. Nothing was in sight, but one could not see very far. The sun would be there soon. It was warm, but, when Collet was not thinking of it, he shivered. Yet the sky was rosy along the east. How long to wait?
There came the sun, broad to the ship. It saw them. Their case now was manifest to heaven. A seaman who was lying as though asleep by the coaming of a hatch below the galley rose to his feet, stumbled to the side, and began to shout at the sun. The man was in rags. His mates watched him in limp wonder. He raised his bare arms and raved at the bloody day.
“To hell with you—you’re no good to us.”
“Stop that man,” commanded a voice. There stood the captain at the companion aft. Everybody turned that way.
“Stop him,” cried Hale, and ran quickly forward. The watchers came to their senses; but the man had scrambled outboard and dropped. One of his mates leaped astride the bulwarks, but Hale got a firm hand on him, and looked over. They were all peering over.
“Useless,” said Hale, still with his restraining hand on the seaman. “You come down. One’s enough.”
Colet was overlooking that from the amidships section. Someone’s hand heartily slapped his shoulder.
“Nice morning, Colet,” said Sinclair, and went pattering down to the main-deck, and passed through the men. Everyone now listlessly eyed the conference of the master and his lieutenant. Gillespie came hurrying along to join them. While the rest had their eyes on the three, the deck lapsed. There could be no mistake about that jolt.
“Let’s get a move on,” muttered a seaman. The master did not appear to have noticed it. Then he moved one arm slightly, a gesture of abandonment, and they heard the end of the talk.
“Man, ye can do n’more,” from Gillespie.
“The boats, Mr. Sinclair,” said the master aloud.
Sinclair took the men’s eyes with a glance. He swept his arm with a motion to gather. He strolled to the amidships ladder, and they after him. It was right to show her that they were not in a hurry to leave her. Gillespie briefly inspected his squad, which had gravitated around him, and jerked his head towards Sinclair.
“Job’s finished, laddies. Awa’ now.”
She settled again while they took their stations, but the men kept their own gait. Colet sought the master, who was obscured by the activity at the ship’s side.
“Ah, purser, I am just going aft for something I must have.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“There’s time. How good these fellows are!”
The captain,
