the mirror of the sea-第4章

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connected　in　a　sailor's　thoughts。　　But　directly　she　is　clear　of　the



narrow　seas；　heading　out　into　the　world　with　nothing　solid　to　speak



of　between　her　and　the　South　Pole；　the　anchors　are　got　in　and　the



cables　disappear　from　the　deck。　　But　the　anchors　do　not　disappear。



Technically　speaking；　they　are　〃secured　in…board〃；　and；　on　the



forecastle　head；　lashed　down　to　ring…bolts　with　ropes　and　chains；



under　the　straining　sheets　of　the　head…sails；　they　look　very　idle



and　as　if　asleep。　　Thus　bound；　but　carefully　looked　after；　inert



and　powerful；　those　emblems　of　hope　make　company　for　the　look…out



man　in　the　night　watches；　and　so　the　days　glide　by；　with　a　long



rest　for　those　characteristically　shaped　pieces　of　iron；　reposing



forward；　visible　from　almost　every　part　of　the　ship's　deck；　waiting



for　their　work　on　the　other　side　of　the　world　somewhere；　while　the



ship　carries　them　on　with　a　great　rush　and　splutter　of　foam



underneath；　and　the　sprays　of　the　open　sea　rust　their　heavy　limbs。







The　first　approach　to　the　land；　as　yet　invisible　to　the　crew's



eyes；　is　announced　by　the　brisk　order　of　the　chief　mate　to　the



boatswain：　　〃We　will　get　the　anchors　over　this　afternoon〃　or　〃first



thing　to…morrow　morning；〃　as　the　case　may　be。　　For　the　chief　mate



is　the　keeper　of　the　ship's　anchors　and　the　guardian　of　her　cable。



There　are　good　ships　and　bad　ships；　comfortable　ships　and　ships



where；　from　first　day　to　last　of　the　voyage；　there　is　no　rest　for　a



chief　mate's　body　and　soul。　　And　ships　are　what　men　make　them：



this　is　a　pronouncement　of　sailor　wisdom；　and；　no　doubt；　in　the



main　it　is　true。







However；　there　are　ships　where；　as　an　old　grizzled　mate　once　told



me；　〃nothing　ever　seems　to　go　right！〃　　And；　looking　from　the　poop



where　we　both　stood　（I　had　paid　him　a　neighbourly　call　in　dock）；　he



added：　　〃She's　one　of　them。〃　　He　glanced　up　at　my　face；　which



expressed　a　proper　professional　sympathy；　and　set　me　right　in　my



natural　surmise：　　〃Oh　no；　the　old　man's　right　enough。　　He　never



interferes。　　Anything　that's　done　in　a　seamanlike　way　is　good



enough　for　him。　　And　yet；　somehow；　nothing　ever　seems　to　go　right



in　this　ship。　　I　tell　you　what：　　she　is　naturally　unhandy。〃







The　〃old　man；〃　of　course；　was　his　captain；　who　just　then　came　on



deck　in　a　silk　hat　and　brown　overcoat；　and；　with　a　civil　nod　to　us；



went　ashore。　　He　was　certainly　not　more　than　thirty；　and　the



elderly　mate；　with　a　murmur　to　me　of　〃That's　my　old　man；〃　proceeded



to　give　instances　of　the　natural　unhandiness　of　the　ship　in　a　sort



of　deprecatory　tone；　as　if　to　say；　〃You　mustn't　think　I　bear　a



grudge　against　her　for　that。〃







The　instances　do　not　matter。　　The　point　is　that　there　are　ships



where　things　DO　go　wrong；　but　whatever　the　ship　…　good　or　bad；



lucky　or　unlucky　…　it　is　in　the　forepart　of　her　that　her　chief　mate



feels　most　at　home。　　It　is　emphatically　HIS　end　of　the　ship；



though；　of　course；　he　is　the　executive　supervisor　of　the　whole。



There　are　HIS　anchors；　HIS　headgear；　his　foremast；　his　station　for



manoeuvring　when　the　captain　is　in　charge。　　And　there；　too；　live



the　men；　the　ship's　hands；　whom　it　is　his　duty　to　keep　employed；



fair　weather　or　foul；　for　the　ship's　welfare。　　It　is　the　chief



mate；　the　only　figure　of　the　ship's　afterguard；　who　comes　bustling



forward　at　the　cry　of　〃All　hands　on　deck！〃　　He　is　the　satrap　of



that　province　in　the　autocratic　realm　of　the　ship；　and　more



personally　responsible　for　anything　that　may　happen　there。







There；　too；　on　the　approach　to　the　land；　assisted　by　the　boatswain



and　the　carpenter；　he　〃gets　the　anchors　over〃　with　the　men　of　his



own　watch；　whom　he　knows　better　than　the　others。　　There　he　sees　the



cable　ranged；　the　windlass　disconnected；　the　compressors　opened；



and　there；　after　giving　his　own　last　order；　〃Stand　clear　of　the



cable！〃　he　waits　attentive；　in　a　silent　ship　that　forges　slowly



ahead　towards　her　picked…out　berth；　for　the　sharp　shout　from　aft；



〃Let　go！〃　　Instantly　bending　over；　he　sees　the　trusty　iron　fall



with　a　heavy　plunge　under　his　eyes；　which　watch　and　note　whether　it



has　gone　clear。







For　the　anchor　〃to　go　clear〃　means　to　go　clear　of　its　own　chain。



Your　anchor　must　drop　from　the　bow　of　your　ship　with　no　turn　of



cable　on　any　of　its　limbs；　else　you　would　be　riding　to　a　foul



anchor。　　Unless　the　pull　of　the　cable　is　fair　on　the　ring；　no



anchor　can　be　trusted　even　on　the　best　of　holding　ground。　　In　time



of　stress　it　is　bound　to　drag；　for　implements　and　men　must　be



treated　fairly　to　give　you　the　〃virtue〃　which　is　in　them。　　The



anchor　is　an　emblem　of　hope；　but　a　foul　anchor　is　worse　than　the



most　fallacious　of　false　hopes　that　ever　lured　men　or　nations　into



a　sense　of　security。　　And　the　sense　of　security；　even　the　most



warranted；　is　a　bad　councillor。　　It　is　the　sense　which；　like　that



exaggerated　feeling　of　well…being　ominous　of　the　coming　on　of



madness；　precedes　the　swift　fall　of　disaster。　　A　seaman　labouring



under　an　undue　sense　of　security　becomes　at　once　worth　hardly　half



his　salt。　　Therefore；　of　all　my　chief　officers；　the　one　I　trusted



most　was　a　man　called　B…。　　He　had　a　red　moustache；　a　lean　face；



also　red；　and　an　uneasy　eye。　　He　was　worth　all　his　salt。







On　examining　now；　after　many　years；　the　residue　of　the　feeling



which　was　the　outcome　of　the　contact　of　our　personalities；　I



discover；　without　much　surprise；　a　certain　flavour　of　dislike。



Upon　the　whole；　I　think　he　was　one　of　the　most　uncomfortable



shipmates　possible　for　a　young　commander。　　If　it　is　permissible　to



criticise　the　absent；　I　should　say　he　had　a　little　too　much　of　the



sense　of　insecurity　which　is　so　invaluable　in　a　seaman。　　He　had　an



extremely　disturbing　air　of　being　everlastingly　ready　（even　when



seated　at　table　at　my　right　hand　before　a　plate　of　salt　beef）　to



grapple　with　some　impending　calamity。　　I　must　hasten　to　add　that　he



had　also　the　other　qualification　necessary　to　make　a　trustworthy



seaman　…　that　of　an　absolute　confidence　in　himself。　　What　was



really　wrong　with　him　was　that　he　had　these　qualities　in　an



unrestful　degree。　　His　eternally　watchful　demeanour；　his　jerky；



nervous　talk；　even　his；　as　it　were；　determined　silences；　seemed　to



imply　…　and；　I　believe；　they　did　imply　…　that　to　his　mind　the　ship



was　never　safe　in　my　hands。　　Such　was　the　man　who　looked　after　the



anchors　of　a　less　than　five…hundred…ton　barque；　my　first　command；



now　gone　from　the　face　of　the　earth；　but　sure　of　a　tenderly



remembered　existence　as　long　as　I　live。　　No　anchor　could　have　gone



down　foul　under　Mr。　B…'s　piercing　eye。　　It　was　good　for　one　to　be



sure　of　that　when；　in　an　open　roadstead；　one　heard　in　the　cabin　the



wind　pipe　up；　but　still；　there　were　moments　when　I　detested　Mr。　B…



exceedingly。　　From　the　way　he　used　to　glare　sometimes；　I　fancy　that



more　than　once　he　paid　me　back　with　interest。　　It　so　happened　that



we　both　loved　the　little　barque　very　much。　　And　it　was　just　the



defect　of　Mr。　B…'s　inestimable　qualities　that　he　would　never



persuade　himself　to　believe　that　the　ship　was　safe　in　my　hands。　　To



begin　with；　he　was　more　than　five　years　older　than　myself　at　a　time



of　life　when　five　years　really　do　count；　I　being　twenty…nine　and　he



thirty…four；　then；　on　our　first　leaving　port　（I　don't　see　why　I



should　make　a　secret　of　the　fact　that　it　was　Bangkok）；　a　bit　of



manoeuvring　of　mine　amongst　the　islands　of　the　Gulf　of　Siam　had



given　him　an　unforgettable　scare。　　Ever　since　then　he　had　nursed　in



secret　a　bitter　idea　of　my　utter　recklessness。　　But　upon　the　whole；



and　unless　the　grip　of　a　man's　hand　at　parting　means　nothing



whatever；　I　conclude　that　we　did　like　each　other　at　the　end　of　two



years　and　three　months　well　enough。







The　bond　between　us　was　the　ship；　and　therein　a　ship；　though　she



has　female