a personal record-第35章
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more than that with this abstemious racethe pilots would pass
the time stamping their feet on the slabs of sea…salted stone and
blowing into their nipped fingers。 One or two misanthropists
would sit apart; perched on boulders like manlike sea…fowl of
solitary habits; the sociably disposed would gossip scandalously
in little gesticulating knots; and there would be perpetually one
or another of my hosts taking aim at the empty horizon with the
long; brass tube of the telescope; a heavy; murderous…looking
piece of collective property; everlastingly changing hands with
brandishing and levelling movements。 Then about noon (it was a
short turn of dutythe long turn lasted twenty…four hours)
another boatful of pilots would relieve usand we should steer
for the old Phoenician port; dominated; watched over from the
ridge of a dust…gray; arid hill by the red…and…white striped pile
of the Notre Dame de la Garde。
All this came to pass as I had foreseen in the fullness of my
very recent experience。 But also something not foreseen by me
did happen; something which causes me to remember my last outing
with the pilots。 It was on this occasion that my hand touched;
for the first time; the side of an English ship。
No fresh breeze had come with the dawn; only the steady little
draught got a more keen edge on it as the eastern sky became
bright and glassy with a clean; colourless light。 I t was while
we were all ashore on the islet that a steamer was picked up by
the telescope; a black speck like an insect posed on the hard
edge of the offing。 She emerged rapidly to her water…line and
came on steadily; a slim hull with a long streak of smoke
slanting away from the rising sun。 We embarked in a hurry; and
headed the boat out for our prey; but we hardly moved three miles
an hour。
She was a big; high…class cargo…steamer of a type that is to be
met on the sea no moreblack hull; with low; white
superstructures; powerfully rigged with three masts and a lot of
yards on the fore; two hands at her enormous wheelsteam
steering…gear was not a matter of course in these daysand with
them on the bridge three others; bulky in thick blue jackets;
ruddy…faced; muffled up; with peak capsI suppose all her
officers。 There are ships I have met more than once and known
well by sight whose names I have forgotten; but the name of that
ship seen once so many years ago in the clear flush of a cold;
pale sunrise I have not forgotten。 How could Ithe first
English ship on whose side I ever laid my hand! The nameI read
it letter by letter on the bowwas James Westoll。 Not very
romantic; you will say。 The name of a very considerable;
well…known; and universally respected North country ship…owner; I
believe。 James Westoll! What better name could an honourable
hard…working ship have? To me the very grouping of the letters
is alive with the romantic feeling of her reality as I saw her
floating motionless and borrowing an ideal grace from the austere
purity of the light。
We were then very near her and; on a sudden impulse; I
volunteered to pull bow in the dinghy which shoved off at once to
put the pilot on board while our boat; fanned by the faint air
which had attended us all through the night; went on gliding
gently past the black; glistening length of the ship。 A few
strokes brought us alongside; and it was then that; for the very
first time in my life; I heard myself addressed in Englishthe
speech of my secret choice; of my future; of long friendships; of
the deepest affections; of hours of toil and hours of ease; and
of solitary hours; too; of books read; of thoughts pursued; of
remembered emotionsof my very dreams! And if (after being thus
fashioned by it in that part of me which cannot decay) I dare not
claim it aloud as my own; then; at any rate; the speech of my
children。 Thus small events grow memorable by the passage of
time。 As to the quality of the address itself I cannot say it
was very striking。 Too short for eloquence and devoid of all
charm of tone; it consisted precisely of the three words 〃Look
out there!〃 growled out huskily above my head。
It proceeded from a big fat fellow (he had an obtrusive; hairy
double chin) in a blue woollen shirt and roomy breeches pulled up
very high; even to the level of his breastbone; by a pair of
braces quite exposed to public view。 As where he stood there was
no bulwark; but only a rail and stanchions; I was able to take in
at a glance the whole of his voluminous person from his feet to
the high crown of his soft black hat; which sat like an absurd
flanged cone on his big head。 The grotesque and massive aspect
of that deck hand (I suppose he was thatvery likely the
lamp…trimmer) surprised me very much。 My course of reading; of
dreaming; and longing for the sea had not prepared me for a sea
brother of that sort。 I never met again a figure in the least
like his except in the illustrations to Mr。 W。 W。 Jacobs's most
entertaining tales of barges and coasters; but the inspired
talent of Mr。 Jacobs for poking endless fun at poor; innocent
sailors in a prose which; however extravagant in its felicitous
invention; is always artistically adjusted to observed truth; was
not yet。 Perhaps Mr。 Jacobs himself was not yet。 I fancy that;
at most; if he had made his nurse laugh it was about all he had
achieved at that early date。
Therefore; I repeat; other disabilities apart; I could not have
been prepared for the sight of that husky old porpoise。 The
object of his concise address was to call my attention to a rope
which he incontinently flung down for me to catch。 I caught it;
though it was not really necessary; the ship having no way on her
by that time。 Then everything went on very swiftly。 The dinghy
came with a slight bump against the steamer's side; the pilot;
grabbing for the rope ladder; had scrambled half…way up before I
knew that our task of boarding was done; the harsh; muffled
clanging of the engine…room telegraph struck my ear through the
iron plate; my companion in the dinghy was urging me to 〃shove
offpush hard〃; and when I bore against the smooth flank of the
first English ship I ever touched in my life; I felt it already
throbbing under my open palm。
Her head swung a little to the west; pointing toward the
miniature lighthouse of the Jolliette breakwater; far away there;
hardly distinguishable against the land。 The dinghy danced a
squashy; splashy jig in the wash of the wake; and; turning in my
seat; I followed the James Westoll with my eyes。 Before she had
gone in a quarter of a mile she hoisted her flag; as the harbour
regulations prescribe for arriving and departing ships。 I saw it
suddenly flicker and stream out on the flag staff。 The Red
Ensign! In the pellucid; colourless atmosphere bathing the drab
and gray masses of that southern land; the livid islets; the sea
of pale; glassy blue under the pale; glassy sky of that cold
sunrise; it was; as far as the eye could reach; the only spot of
ardent colourflame…like; intense; and presently as minute as
the tiny red spark the concentrated reflection of a great fire
kindles in the clear heart of a globe of crystal。 The Red
Ensignthe symbolic; protecting; warm bit of bunting flung wide
upon the seas; and destined for so many years to be the only roof
over my head。
End