the mirror of the sea- 第22部分

to　the　town　with　a　population　greater　than　that　of　some



commonwealths。　　The　growth　of　London　as　a　well…equipped　port　has



been　slow；　while　not　unworthy　of　a　great　capital；　of　a　great　centre



of　distribution。　　It　must　not　be　forgotten　that　London　has　not　the



backing　of　great　industrial　districts　or　great　fields　of　natural



exploitation。　　In　this　it　differs　from　Liverpool；　from　Cardiff；



from　Newcastle；　from　Glasgow；　and　therein　the　Thames　differs　from



the　Mersey；　from　the　Tyne；　from　the　Clyde。　　It　is　an　historical



river；　it　is　a　romantic　stream　flowing　through　the　centre　of　great



affairs；　and　for　all　the　criticism　of　the　river's　administration；



my　contention　is　that　its　development　has　been　worthy　of　its



dignity。　　For　a　long　time　the　stream　itself　could　accommodate　quite



easily　the　oversea　and　coasting　traffic。　　That　was　in　the　days



when；　in　the　part　called　the　Pool；　just　below　London　Bridge；　the



vessels　moored　stem　and　stern　in　the　very　strength　of　the　tide



formed　one　solid　mass　like　an　island　covered　with　a　forest　of



gaunt；　leafless　trees；　and　when　the　trade　had　grown　too　big　for　the



river　there　came　the　St。　Katherine's　Docks　and　the　London　Docks；



magnificent　undertakings　answering　to　the　need　of　their　time。　　The



same　may　be　said　of　the　other　artificial　lakes　full　of　ships　that



go　in　and　out　upon　this　high　road　to　all　parts　of　the　world。　　The



labour　of　the　imperial　waterway　goes　on　from　generation　to



generation；　goes　on　day　and　night。　　Nothing　ever　arrests　its



sleepless　industry　but　the　coming　of　a　heavy　fog；　which　clothes　the



teeming　stream　in　a　mantle　of　impenetrable　stillness。







After　the　gradual　cessation　of　all　sound　and　movement　on　the



faithful　river；　only　the　ringing　of　ships'　bells　is　heard；



mysterious　and　muffled　in　the　white　vapour　from　London　Bridge　right



down　to　the　Nore；　for　miles　and　miles　in　a　decrescendo　tinkling；　to



where　the　estuary　broadens　out　into　the　North　Sea；　and　the　anchored



ships　lie　scattered　thinly　in　the　shrouded　channels　between　the



sand…banks　of　the　Thames'　mouth。　　Through　the　long　and　glorious



tale　of　years　of　the　river's　strenuous　service　to　its　people　these



are　its　only　breathing　times。















XXXIII。















A　ship　in　dock；　surrounded　by　quays　and　the　walls　of　warehouses；



has　the　appearance　of　a　prisoner　meditating　upon　freedom　in　the



sadness　of　a　free　spirit　put　under　restraint。　　Chain　cables　and



stout　ropes　keep　her　bound　to　stone　posts　at　the　edge　of　a　paved



shore；　and　a　berthing…master；　with　brass　buttons　on　his　coat；　walks



about　like　a　weather…beaten　and　ruddy　gaoler；　casting　jealous；



watchful　glances　upon　the　moorings　that　fetter　a　ship　lying　passive



and　still　and　safe；　as　if　lost　in　deep　regrets　of　her　days　of



liberty　and　danger　on　the　sea。







The　swarm　of　renegades　…　dock…masters；　berthing…masters；　gatemen；



and　such　like　…　appear　to　nurse　an　immense　distrust　of　the　captive



ship's　resignation。　　There　never　seem　chains　and　ropes　enough　to



satisfy　their　minds　concerned　with　the　safe　binding　of　free　ships



to　the　strong；　muddy；　enslaved　earth。　　〃You　had　better　put　another



bight　of　a　hawser　astern；　Mr。　Mate；〃　is　the　usual　phrase　in　their



mouth。　　I　brand　them　for　renegades；　because　most　of　them　have　been



sailors　in　their　time。　　As　if　the　infirmities　of　old　age　…　the　gray



hair；　the　wrinkles　at　the　corners　of　the　eyes；　and　the　knotted



veins　of　the　hands　…　were　the　symptoms　of　moral　poison；　they　prowl



about　the　quays　with　an　underhand　air　of　gloating　over　the　broken



spirit　of　noble　captives。　　They　want　more　fenders；　more　breasting…



ropes；　they　want　more　springs；　more　shackles；　more　fetters；　they



want　to　make　ships　with　volatile　souls　as　motionless　as　square



blocks　of　stone。　　They　stand　on　the　mud　of　pavements；　these



degraded　sea…dogs；　with　long　lines　of　railway…trucks　clanking　their



couplings　behind　their　backs；　and　run　malevolent　glances　over　your



ship　from　headgear　to　taffrail；　only　wishing　to　tyrannize　over　the



poor　creature　under　the　hypocritical　cloak　of　benevolence　and　care。



Here　and　there　cargo　cranes　looking　like　instruments　of　torture　for



ships　swing　cruel　hooks　at　the　end　of　long　chains。　　Gangs　of　dock…



labourers　swarm　with　muddy　feet　over　the　gangways。　　It　is　a　moving



sight　this；　of　so　many　men　of　the　earth；　earthy；　who　never　cared



anything　for　a　ship；　trampling　unconcerned；　brutal　and　hob…nailed



upon　her　helpless　body。







Fortunately；　nothing　can　deface　the　beauty　of　a　ship。　　That　sense



of　a　dungeon；　that　sense　of　a　horrible　and　degrading　misfortune



overtaking　a　creature　fair　to　see　and　safe　to　trust；　attaches　only



to　ships　moored　in　the　docks　of　great　European　ports。　　You　feel



that　they　are　dishonestly　locked　up；　to　be　hunted　about　from　wharf



to　wharf　on　a　dark；　greasy；　square　pool　of　black　water　as　a　brutal



reward　at　the　end　of　a　faithful　voyage。







A　ship　anchored　in　an　open　roadstead；　with　cargo…lighters　alongside



and　her　own　tackle　swinging　the　burden　over　the　rail；　is



accomplishing　in　freedom　a　function　of　her　life。　　There　is　no



restraint；　there　is　space：　　clear　water　around　her；　and　a　clear　sky



above　her　mastheads；　with　a　landscape　of　green　hills　and　charming



bays　opening　around　her　anchorage。　　She　is　not　abandoned　by　her　own



men　to　the　tender　mercies　of　shore　people。　　She　still　shelters；　and



is　looked　after　by；　her　own　little　devoted　band；　and　you　feel　that



presently　she　will　glide　between　the　headlands　and　disappear。　　It



is　only　at　home；　in　dock；　that　she　lies　abandoned；　shut　off　from



freedom　by　all　the　artifices　of　men　that　think　of　quick　despatch



and　profitable　freights。　　It　is　only　then　that　the　odious；



rectangular　shadows　of　walls　and　roofs　fall　upon　her　decks；　with



showers　of　soot。







To　a　man　who　has　never　seen　the　extraordinary　nobility；　strength；



and　grace　that　the　devoted　generations　of　ship…builders　have



evolved　from　some　pure　nooks　of　their　simple　souls；　the　sight　that



could　be　seen　five…and…twenty　years　ago　of　a　large　fleet　of



clippers　moored　along　the　north　side　of　the　New　South　Dock　was　an



inspiring　spectacle。　　Then　there　was　a　quarter　of　a　mile　of　them；



from　the　iron　dockyard…gates　guarded　by　policemen；　in　a　long；



forest…like　perspective　of　masts；　moored　two　and　two　to　many　stout



wooden　jetties。　　Their　spars　dwarfed　with　their　loftiness　the



corrugated…iron　sheds；　their　jibbooms　extended　far　over　the　shore；



their　white…and…gold　figure…heads；　almost　dazzling　in　their　purity；



overhung　the　straight；　long　quay　above　the　mud　and　dirt　of　the



wharfside；　with　the　busy　figures　of　groups　and　single　men　moving　to



and　fro；　restless　and　grimy　under　their　soaring　immobility。







At　tide…time　you　would　see　one　of　the　loaded　ships　with　battened…



down　hatches　drop　out　of　the　ranks　and　float　in　the　clear　space　of



the　dock；　held　by　lines　dark　and　slender；　like　the　first　threads　of



a　spider's　web；　extending　from　her　bows　and　her　quarters　to　the



mooring…posts　on　shore。　　There；　graceful　and　still；　like　a　bird



ready　to　spread　its　wings；　she　waited　till；　at　the　opening　of　the



gates；　a　tug　or　two　would　hurry　in　noisily；　hovering　round　her　with



an　air　of　fuss　and　solicitude；　and　take　her　out　into　the　river；



tending；　shepherding　her　through　open　bridges；　through　dam…like



gates　between　the　flat　pier…heads；　with　a　bit　of　green　lawn



surrounded　by　gravel　and　a　white　signal…mast　with　yard　and　gaff；



flying　a　couple　of　dingy　blue；　red；　or　white　flags。







This　New　South　Dock　（it　was　its　official　name）；　round　which　my



earlier　professional　memories　are　centred；　belongs　to　the　group　of



West　India　Docks；　together　with　two　smaller　and　much　older　basins



called　Import　and　Export　respectively；　both　with　the　greatness　of



their　trade　departed　from　them　already。　　Picturesque　and　clean　as



docks　go；　these　twin　basins　spread　side　by　side　the　dark　lustre　of



their　glassy　water；　sparely　peopled　by　a　few　ships　laid　up　on　buoys



or　tucked　far　away　from　each　other　at　the　end　of　sheds　in　the



corners　of　empty　quays；　where　they　seemed　to　slumber　quietly



remote；　untouched　by　the　bustle　of　men's　affairs　…　in　retreat



rather　than　in　captivity。　　They　were　quaint　and　sympathetic；　those



two　homely　basins；　unfurnished　and　silent；　with　no　aggressive



display　of　cranes；　no　apparatus　of　hurry　and　work　on　their　narrow



shores。　　No　railway…lines　cumbered　them。　　The　knots　of　labourers



trooping　in　clumsily　round　the　corners　of　cargo…sheds　to　eat　their



food　in　peace　out　of　red　cotton　handkerchiefs　had　the　air　of



picnicking　by　the　side　of　a　lonely　mountain　pool。　　They　were



restful　（and　I　should　say　very　unprofitable）；　those　basins；　where



the　chief　officer　of　one　of　the　ships　involved　in　the　harassing；



strenuous；　noisy　activity　of　the　New　South　Dock　only　a　few　yards



away　could　escape　in　the　dinner…hour　to　stroll；　unhampered　by　men



and　affairs；　meditating　（if　he　chose）　on　the　vanity　of　all　things



human。　　At　one　time　they　must　have　been　full　of　good　old　slow　West



Indiamen　of　the　square…stern　type；　that　took　their　captivity；　one



imagines；　as　stolidly　as　they　had　faced　the　buffeting　of　the　waves



with　their　blunt；　honest　bows；　and　disgorged　sugar；　rum；　molasses；



coffee；　or　logwood　sedately　with　their　own　winch　and　tackle。　　But



when　I　knew　them；　of　exports　there　was　never　a　sign　that　one　could



detect；　and　all　the　imports　I　have　ever　seen　were　some　rare　cargoes



of　tropical　timber；　enormous　baulks　roughed　out　of　iron　trunks



grown　in　the　woods　about　the　Gulf　of　Mexico。　　They　lay　piled　up　in



stacks　of　mighty　boles；　and　it　was　hard　to　believe　that　all　this



mass　of　dead　and　stripped　trees　had　come　out　of　the　flanks　of　a



slender；　innocent…looking　little　barque　with；　as　likely　as　not；　a



hom