the mirror of the sea- 第11部分

swarthy　man　with　coal…black　moustache　and　steady　eyes；　but　he　might



have　been　a　bit　of　a　diplomatist；　too。　　His　enticing　suggestions　I



used　to　repel　modestly　by　the　assurance　that　it　was　extremely



unlikely；　as　I　had　not　enough　experience。　　〃You　know　very　well　how



to　go　about　business　matters；〃　he　used　to　say；　with　a　sort　of



affected　moodiness　clouding　his　serene　round　face。　　I　wonder



whether　he　ever　laughed　to　himself　after　I　had　left　the　office。　　I



dare　say　he　never　did；　because　I　understand　that　diplomatists；　in



and　out　of　the　career；　take　themselves　and　their　tricks　with　an



exemplary　seriousness。







But　he　had　nearly　persuaded　me　that　I　was　fit　in　every　way　to　be



trusted　with　a　command。　　There　came　three　months　of　mental　worry；



hard　rolling；　remorse；　and　physical　pain　to　drive　home　the　lesson



of　insufficient　experience。







Yes；　your　ship　wants　to　be　humoured　with　knowledge。　　You　must　treat



with　an　understanding　consideration　the　mysteries　of　her　feminine



nature；　and　then　she　will　stand　by　you　faithfully　in　the　unceasing



struggle　with　forces　wherein　defeat　is　no　shame。　　It　is　a　serious



relation；　that　in　which　a　man　stands　to　his　ship。　　She　has　her



rights　as　though　she　could　breathe　and　speak；　and；　indeed；　there



are　ships　that；　for　the　right　man；　will　do　anything　but　speak；　as



the　saying　goes。







A　ship　is　not　a　slave。　　You　must　make　her　easy　in　a　seaway；　you



must　never　forget　that　you　owe　her　the　fullest　share　of　your



thought；　of　your　skill；　of　your　self…love。　　If　you　remember　that



obligation；　naturally　and　without　effort；　as　if　it　were　an



instinctive　feeling　of　your　inner　life；　she　will　sail；　stay；　run



for　you　as　long　as　she　is　able；　or；　like　a　sea…bird　going　to　rest



upon　the　angry　waves；　she　will　lay　out　the　heaviest　gale　that　ever



made　you　doubt　living　long　enough　to　see　another　sunrise。















XVI。















Often　I　turn　with　melancholy　eagerness　to　the　space　reserved　in　the



newspapers　under　the　general　heading　of　〃Shipping　Intelligence。〃　　I



meet　there　the　names　of　ships　I　have　known。　　Every　year　some　of



these　names　disappear　…　the　names　of　old　friends。　　〃Tempi　passati！〃







The　different　divisions　of　that　kind　of　news　are　set　down　in　their



order；　which　varies　but　slightly　in　its　arrangement　of　concise



headlines。　　And　first　comes　〃Speakings〃　…　reports　of　ships　met　and



signalled　at　sea；　name；　port；　where　from；　where　bound　for；　so　many



days　out；　ending　frequently　with　the　words　〃All　well。〃　　Then　come



〃Wrecks　and　Casualties〃　…　a　longish　array　of　paragraphs；　unless　the



weather　has　been　fair　and　clear；　and　friendly　to　ships　all　over　the



world。







On　some　days　there　appears　the　heading　〃Overdue〃　…　an　ominous



threat　of　loss　and　sorrow　trembling　yet　in　the　balance　of　fate。



There　is　something　sinister　to　a　seaman　in　the　very　grouping　of　the



letters　which　form　this　word；　clear　in　its　meaning；　and　seldom



threatening　in　vain。







Only　a　very　few　days　more　…　appallingly　few　to　the　hearts　which　had



set　themselves　bravely　to　hope　against　hope　…　three　weeks；　a　month



later；　perhaps；　the　name　of　ships　under　the　blight　of　the　〃Overdue〃



heading　shall　appear　again　in　the　column　of　〃Shipping



Intelligence；〃　but　under　the　final　declaration　of　〃Missing。〃







〃The　ship；　or　barque；　or　brig　So…and…so；　bound　from　such　a　port；



with　such　and　such　cargo；　for　such　another　port；　having　left　at



such　and　such　a　date；　last　spoken　at　sea　on　such　a　day；　and　never



having　been　heard　of　since；　was　posted　to…day　as　missing。〃　　Such　in



its　strictly　official　eloquence　is　the　form　of　funeral　orations　on



ships　that；　perhaps　wearied　with　a　long　struggle；　or　in　some



unguarded　moment　that　may　come　to　the　readiest　of　us；　had　let



themselves　be　overwhelmed　by　a　sudden　blow　from　the　enemy。







Who　can　say？　　Perhaps　the　men　she　carried　had　asked　her　to　do　too



much；　had　stretched　beyond　breaking…point　the　enduring　faithfulness



which　seems　wrought　and　hammered　into　that　assemblage　of　iron　ribs



and　plating；　of　wood　and　steel　and　canvas　and　wire；　which　goes　to



the　making　of　a　ship　…　a　complete　creation　endowed　with　character；



individuality；　qualities　and　defects；　by　men　whose　hands　launch　her



upon　the　water；　and　that　other　men　shall　learn　to　know　with　an



intimacy　surpassing　the　intimacy　of　man　with　man；　to　love　with　a



love　nearly　as　great　as　that　of　man　for　woman；　and　often　as　blind



in　its　infatuated　disregard　of　defects。







There　are　ships　which　bear　a　bad　name；　but　I　have　yet　to　meet　one



whose　crew　for　the　time　being　failed　to　stand　up　angrily　for　her



against　every　criticism。　　One　ship　which　I　call　to　mind　now　had　the



reputation　of　killing　somebody　every　voyage　she　made。　　This　was　no



calumny；　and　yet　I　remember　well；　somewhere　far　back　in　the　late



seventies；　that　the　crew　of　that　ship　were；　if　anything；　rather



proud　of　her　evil　fame；　as　if　they　had　been　an　utterly　corrupt　lot



of　desperadoes　glorying　in　their　association　with　an　atrocious



creature。　　We；　belonging　to　other　vessels　moored　all　about　the



Circular　Quay　in　Sydney；　used　to　shake　our　heads　at　her　with　a



great　sense　of　the　unblemished　virtue　of　our　own　well…loved　ships。







I　shall　not　pronounce　her　name。　　She　is　〃missing〃　now；　after　a



sinister　but；　from　the　point　of　view　of　her　owners；　a　useful　career



extending　over　many　years；　and；　I　should　say；　across　every　ocean　of



our　globe。　　Having　killed　a　man　for　every　voyage；　and　perhaps



rendered　more　misanthropic　by　the　infirmities　that　come　with　years



upon　a　ship；　she　had　made　up　her　mind　to　kill　all　hands　at　once



before　leaving　the　scene　of　her　exploits。　　A　fitting　end；　this；　to



a　life　of　usefulness　and　crime　…　in　a　last　outburst　of　an　evil



passion　supremely　satisfied　on　some　wild　night；　perhaps；　to　the



applauding　clamour　of　wind　and　wave。







How　did　she　do　it？　　In　the　word　〃missing〃　there　is　a　horrible　depth



of　doubt　and　speculation。　　Did　she　go　quickly　from　under　the　men's



feet；　or　did　she　resist　to　the　end；　letting　the　sea　batter　her　to



pieces；　start　her　butts；　wrench　her　frame；　load　her　with　an



increasing　weight　of　salt　water；　and；　dismasted；　unmanageable；



rolling　heavily；　her　boats　gone；　her　decks　swept；　had　she　wearied



her　men　half　to　death　with　the　unceasing　labour　at　the　pumps　before



she　sank　with　them　like　a　stone？







However；　such　a　case　must　be　rare。　　I　imagine　a　raft　of　some　sort



could　always　be　contrived；　and；　even　if　it　saved　no　one；　it　would



float　on　and　be　picked　up；　perhaps　conveying　some　hint　of　the



vanished　name。　　Then　that　ship　would　not　be；　properly　speaking；



missing。　　She　would　be　〃lost　with　all　hands；〃　and　in　that



distinction　there　is　a　subtle　difference　…　less　horror　and　a　less



appalling　darkness。















XVII。















The　unholy　fascination　of　dread　dwells　in　the　thought　of　the　last



moments　of　a　ship　reported　as　〃missing〃　in　the　columns　of　the



SHIPPING　GAZETTE。　　Nothing　of　her　ever　comes　to　light　…　no　grating；



no　lifebuoy；　no　piece　of　boat　or　branded　oar　…　to　give　a　hint　of



the　place　and　date　of　her　sudden　end。　　The　SHIPPING　GAZETTE　does



not　even　call　her　〃lost　with　all　hands。〃　　She　remains　simply



〃missing〃；　she　has　disappeared　enigmatically　into　a　mystery　of　fate



as　big　as　the　world；　where　your　imagination　of　a　brother…sailor；　of



a　fellow…servant　and　lover　of　ships；　may　range　unchecked。







And　yet　sometimes　one　gets　a　hint　of　what　the　last　scene　may　be



like　in　the　life　of　a　ship　and　her　crew；　which　resembles　a　drama　in



its　struggle　against　a　great　force　bearing　it　up；　formless；



ungraspable；　chaotic　and　mysterious；　as　fate。







It　was　on　a　gray　afternoon　in　the　lull　of　a　three　days'　gale　that



had　left　the　Southern　Ocean　tumbling　heavily　upon　our　ship；　under　a



sky　hung　with　rags　of　clouds　that　seemed　to　have　been　cut　and



hacked　by　the　keen　edge　of　a　sou'…west　gale。







Our　craft；　a　Clyde…built　barque　of　1；000　tons；　rolled　so　heavily



that　something　aloft　had　carried　away。　　No　matter　what　the　damage



was；　but　it　was　serious　enough　to　induce　me　to　go　aloft　myself　with



a　couple　of　hands　and　the　carpenter　to　see　the　temporary　repairs



properly　done。







Sometimes　we　had　to　drop　everything　and　cling　with　both　hands　to



the　swaying　spars；　holding　our　breath　in　fear　of　a　terribly　heavy



roll。　　And；　wallowing　as　if　she　meant　to　turn　over　with　us；　the



barque；　her　decks　full　of　water；　her　gear　flying　in　bights；　ran　at



some　ten　knots　an　hour。　　We　had　been　driven　far　south　…　much



farther　that　way　than　we　had　meant　to　go；　and　suddenly；　up　there　in



the　slings　of　the　foreyard；　in　the　midst　of　our　work；　I　felt　my



shoulder　gripped　with　such　force　in　the　carpenter's　powerful　paw



that　I　positively　yelled　with　unexpected　pain。　　The　man's　eyes



stared　close　in　my　face；　and　he　shouted；　〃Look；　sir！　look！　　What's



this？〃　pointing　ahead　with　his　other　hand。







At　first　I　saw　nothing。　　The　sea　was　one　empty　wilderness　of　black



and　white　hills。　　Suddenly；　half…concealed　in　the　tumult　of　the



foaming　rollers　I　made　out　awash；　something　enormous；　rising　and



falling　…　something　spread　out　like　a　burst　of　foam；　but　with　a



more　bluish；　more　solid　look。







It　was　a　piece　of　an　ice…floe　melted　down　to　a　fragment；　but　still



big　enough　to　sink　a　ship；　and　floating　lower　than　any　raft；　right



in　our　way；　as　if　ambushed　among　the　waves　with　murderous　intent。



There　was　no　time　to　get　down　on　deck。　　I　shouted　from　aloft　till



my　head　was　ready　to　split。　　I　was　heard　aft；　and　we　managed　to



clear　the　sunken　floe　which　had　come　all　the　way　from　the　Southern



ice…cap　to　have　a　try　at　our　unsuspecting　lives。　　Had　it　been　an



hour　later；　nothing　could　have　saved　the　ship；　for　no　eye　could