the mirror of the sea-第21章

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half…exasperated；　half…appealing　way。　　We　have　seen　no　sun；　moon；



or　stars　for　something　like　seven　days。　　By　the　effect　of　the　West



Wind's　wrath　the　celestial　bodies　had　gone　into　hiding　for　a　week



or　more；　and　the　last　three　days　had　seen　the　force　of　a　south…west



gale　grow　from　fresh；　through　strong；　to　heavy；　as　the　entries　in



my　log…book　could　testify。　　Then　we　separated；　he　to　go　on　deck



again；　in　obedience　to　that　mysterious　call　that　seems　to　sound　for



ever　in　a　shipmaster's　ears；　I　to　stagger　into　my　cabin　with　some



vague　notion　of　putting　down　the　words　〃Very　heavy　weather〃　in　a



log…book　not　quite　written　up…to…date。　　But　I　gave　it　up；　and



crawled　into　my　bunk　instead；　boots　and　hat　on；　all　standing　（it



did　not　matter；　everything　was　soaking　wet；　a　heavy　sea　having



burst　the　poop　skylights　the　night　before）；　to　remain　in　a



nightmarish　state　between　waking　and　sleeping　for　a　couple　of　hours



of　so…called　rest。







The　south…westerly　mood　of　the　West　Wind　is　an　enemy　of　sleep；　and



even　of　a　recumbent　position；　in　the　responsible　officers　of　a



ship。　　After　two　hours　of　futile；　light…headed；　inconsequent



thinking　upon　all　things　under　heaven　in　that　dark；　dank；　wet　and



devastated　cabin；　I　arose　suddenly　and　staggered　up　on　deck。　　The



autocrat　of　the　North　Atlantic　was　still　oppressing　his　kingdom　and



its　outlying　dependencies；　even　as　far　as　the　Bay　of　Biscay；　in　the



dismal　secrecy　of　thick；　very　thick；　weather。　　The　force　of　the



wind；　though　we　were　running　before　it　at　the　rate　of　some　ten



knots　an　hour；　was　so　great　that　it　drove　me　with　a　steady　push　to



the　front　of　the　poop；　where　my　commander　was　holding　on。







〃What　do　you　think　of　it？〃　he　addressed　me　in　an　interrogative



yell。







What　I　really　thought　was　that　we　both　had　had　just　about　enough　of



it。　　The　manner　in　which　the　great　West　Wind　chooses　at　times　to



administer　his　possessions　does　not　commend　itself　to　a　person　of



peaceful　and　law…abiding　disposition；　inclined　to　draw　distinctions



between　right　and　wrong　in　the　face　of　natural　forces；　whose



standard；　naturally；　is　that　of　might　alone。　　But；　of　course；　I



said　nothing。　　For　a　man　caught；　as　it　were；　between　his　skipper



and　the　great　West　Wind　silence　is　the　safest　sort　of　diplomacy。



Moreover；　I　knew　my　skipper。　　He　did　not　want　to　know　what　I



thought。　　Shipmasters　hanging　on　a　breath　before　the　thrones　of　the



winds　ruling　the　seas　have　their　psychology；　whose　workings　are　as



important　to　the　ship　and　those　on　board　of　her　as　the　changing



moods　of　the　weather。　　The　man；　as　a　matter　of　fact；　under　no



circumstances；　ever　cared　a　brass　farthing　for　what　I　or　anybody



else　in　his　ship　thought。　　He　had　had　just　about　enough　of　it；　I



guessed；　and　what　he　was　at　really　was　a　process　of　fishing　for　a



suggestion。　　It　was　the　pride　of　his　life　that　he　had　never　wasted



a　chance；　no　matter　how　boisterous；　threatening；　and　dangerous；　of



a　fair　wind。　　Like　men　racing　blindfold　for　a　gap　in　a　hedge；　we



were　finishing　a　splendidly　quick　passage　from　the　Antipodes；　with



a　tremendous　rush　for　the　Channel　in　as　thick　a　weather　as　any　I



can　remember；　but　his　psychology　did　not　permit　him　to　bring　the



ship　to　with　a　fair　wind　blowing　…　at　least　not　on　his　own



initiative。　　And　yet　he　felt　that　very　soon　indeed　something　would



have　to　be　done。　　He　wanted　the　suggestion　to　come　from　me；　so　that



later　on；　when　the　trouble　was　over；　he　could　argue　this　point　with



his　own　uncompromising　spirit；　laying　the　blame　upon　my　shoulders。



I　must　render　him　the　justice　that　this　sort　of　pride　was　his　only



weakness。







But　he　got　no　suggestion　from　me。　　I　understood　his　psychology。



Besides；　I　had　my　own　stock　of　weaknesses　at　the　time　（it　is　a



different　one　now）；　and　amongst　them　was　the　conceit　of　being



remarkably　well　up　in　the　psychology　of　the　Westerly　weather。　　I



believed　…　not　to　mince　matters　…　that　I　had　a　genius　for　reading



the　mind　of　the　great　ruler　of　high　latitudes。　　I　fancied　I　could



discern　already　the　coming　of　a　change　in　his　royal　mood。　　And　all



I　said　was：







〃The　weather's　bound　to　clear　up　with　the　shift　of　wind。〃







〃Anybody　knows　that　much！〃　he　snapped　at　me；　at　the　highest　pitch



of　his　voice。







〃I　mean　before　dark！〃　I　cried。







This　was　all　the　opening　he　ever　got　from　me。　　The　eagerness　with



which　he　seized　upon　it　gave　me　the　measure　of　the　anxiety　he　had



been　labouring　under。







〃Very　well；〃　he　shouted；　with　an　affectation　of　impatience；　as　if



giving　way　to　long　entreaties。　　〃All　right。　　If　we　don't　get　a



shift　by　then　we'll　take　that　foresail　off　her　and　put　her　head



under　her　wing　for　the　night。〃







I　was　struck　by　the　picturesque　character　of　the　phrase　as　applied



to　a　ship　brought…to　in　order　to　ride　out　a　gale　with　wave　after



wave　passing　under　her　breast。　　I　could　see　her　resting　in　the



tumult　of　the　elements　like　a　sea…bird　sleeping　in　wild　weather



upon　the　raging　waters　with　its　head　tucked　under　its　wing。　　In



imaginative　precision；　in　true　feeling；　this　is　one　of　the　most



expressive　sentences　I　have　ever　heard　on　human　lips。　　But　as　to



taking　the　foresail　off　that　ship　before　we　put　her　head　under　her



wing；　I　had　my　grave　doubts。　　They　were　justified。　　That　long



enduring　piece　of　canvas　was　confiscated　by　the　arbitrary　decree　of



the　West　Wind；　to　whom　belong　the　lives　of　men　and　the　contrivances



of　their　hands　within　the　limits　of　his　kingdom。　　With　the　sound　of



a　faint　explosion　it　vanished　into　the　thick　weather　bodily；



leaving　behind　of　its　stout　substance　not　so　much　as　one　solitary



strip　big　enough　to　be　picked　into　a　handful　of　lint　for；　say；　a



wounded　elephant。　　Torn　out　of　its　bolt…ropes；　it　faded　like　a



whiff　of　smoke　in　the　smoky　drift　of　clouds　shattered　and　torn　by



the　shift　of　wind。　　For　the　shift　of　wind　had　come。　　The　unveiled；



low　sun　glared　angrily　from　a　chaotic　sky　upon　a　confused　and



tremendous　sea　dashing　itself　upon　a　coast。　　We　recognised　the



headland；　and　looked　at　each　other　in　the　silence　of　dumb　wonder。



Without　knowing　it　in　the　least；　we　had　run　up　alongside　the　Isle



of　Wight；　and　that　tower；　tinged　a　faint　evening　red　in　the　salt



wind…haze；　was　the　lighthouse　on　St。　Catherine's　Point。







My　skipper　recovered　first　from　his　astonishment。　　His　bulging　eyes



sank　back　gradually　into　their　orbits。　　His　psychology；　taking　it



all　round；　was　really　very　creditable　for　an　average　sailor。　　He



had　been　spared　the　humiliation　of　laying　his　ship　to　with　a　fair



wind；　and　at　once　that　man；　of　an　open　and　truthful　nature；　spoke



up　in　perfect　good　faith；　rubbing　together　his　brown；　hairy　hands　…



the　hands　of　a　master…craftsman　upon　the　sea：







〃Humph！　that's　just　about　where　I　reckoned　we　had　got　to。〃







The　transparency　and　ingenuousness；　in　a　way；　of　that　delusion；　the



airy　tone；　the　hint　of　already　growing　pride；　were　perfectly



delicious。　　But；　in　truth；　this　was　one　of　the　greatest　surprises



ever　sprung　by　the　clearing　up　mood　of　the　West　Wind　upon　one　of



the　most　accomplished　of　his　courtiers。















XXVIII。















The　winds　of　North　and　South　are；　as　I　have　said；　but　small　princes



amongst　the　powers　of　the　sea。　　They　have　no　territory　of　their



own；　they　are　not　reigning　winds　anywhere。　　Yet　it　is　from　their



houses　that　the　reigning　dynasties　which　have　shared　between　them



the　waters　of　the　earth　are　sprung。　　All　the　weather　of　the　world



is　based　upon　the　contest　of　the　Polar　and　Equatorial　strains　of



that　tyrannous　race。　　The　West　Wind　is　the　greatest　king。　　The　East



rules　between　the　Tropics。　　They　have　shared　each　ocean　between



them。　　Each　has　his　genius　of　supreme　rule。　　The　King　of　the　West



never　intrudes　upon　the　recognised　domi