had driven each of us to sea, such a glorious indefiniteness, such a beautiful greed of adventures that are their own and only reward! What we getâwell, we won't talk of that; but can one of us restrain a smile? In no other kind of life is the illusion more wide of realityâin no other is the beginning all illusionâthe disenchantment more swiftâthe subjugation more complete. Hadn't we all commenced with the same desire, ended with the same knowledge, carried the memory of the same cherished glamour through the sordid days of imprecation? What wonder that when some heavy prod gets home the bond is found to be close; that besides the fellowship of the craft there is felt the strength of a wider feelingâthe feeling that binds a man to a child. He was there before me, believing that age and wisdom can find a remedy against the pain of truth, giving me a glimpse of himself as a young fellow in a scrape that is the very devil of a scrape, the sort of scrape greybeards wag at solemnly while they hide a smile. And he had been deliberating upon deathâconfound him! He had found that to meditate about because he thought he had saved his life, while all its glamour had gone with the ship in the night. What more natural! It was tragic enough and funny enough in all conscience to call aloud for compassion, and in what was I better than the rest of us to refuse him my pity? And even as I looked at him the mists rolled into the rent, and his voice spokeâ
ââI was so lost, you know. It was the sort of thing one does not expect to happen to one. It was not like a fight, for instance.â
ââIt was not,â I admitted. He appeared changed, as if he had suddenly matured.
ââOne couldn't be sure,â he muttered.
ââAh! You were not sure,â I said, and was placated by the sound of a faint sigh that passed between us like the flight of a bird in the night.
ââWell, I wasn't,â he said courageously. âIt was something like that wretched story they made up. It was not a lieâbut it wasn't truth all the same. It was somethingâ¦. One knows a downright lie. There was not the thickness of a sheet of paper between the right and the wrong of this affair.â
ââHow much more did you want?â I asked; but I think I spoke so low that he did not catch what I said. He had advanced his argument as though life had been a network of paths separated by chasms. His voice sounded reasonable.
ââSuppose I had notâI mean to say, suppose I had stuck tothe ship? Well. How much longer? Say a minuteâhalf a minute. Come. In thirty seconds, as it seemed certain then, I would have been overboard; and do you think I would not have laid hold of the first thing that came in my wayâoar, life-buoy, gratingâanything? Wouldn't you?â
ââAnd be saved,â I interjected.
ââI would have meant to be,â he retorted. âAnd that's more than I meant when I'⦠he shivered as if about to swallow some nauseous drug⦠âjumped,â he pronounced with a convulsive effort, whose stress, as if propagated by the waves of the air, made my body stir a little in the chair. He fixed me with lowering eyes. âDon't you believe me?â he cried. âI swear!⦠Confound it! You got me here to talk, and⦠You must!⦠You said you would believe.â âOf course I do,â I protested, in a matter-of-fact tone which produced a calming effect. âForgive me,â he said. âOf course I wouldn't have talked to you about all this if you had not been a gentleman. I ought to have known⦠I amâI amâa gentleman tooâ¦â âYes, yes,â I said hastily. He was looking me squarely in the face, and withdrew his gaze slowly. âNow you understand why I didn't after all⦠didn't go out in that way. I wasn't going to be frightened at what I had done.
ââI was so lost, you know. It was the sort of thing one does not expect to happen to one. It was not like a fight, for instance.â
ââIt was not,â I admitted. He appeared changed, as if he had suddenly matured.
ââOne couldn't be sure,â he muttered.
ââAh! You were not sure,â I said, and was placated by the sound of a faint sigh that passed between us like the flight of a bird in the night.
ââWell, I wasn't,â he said courageously. âIt was something like that wretched story they made up. It was not a lieâbut it wasn't truth all the same. It was somethingâ¦. One knows a downright lie. There was not the thickness of a sheet of paper between the right and the wrong of this affair.â
ââHow much more did you want?â I asked; but I think I spoke so low that he did not catch what I said. He had advanced his argument as though life had been a network of paths separated by chasms. His voice sounded reasonable.
ââSuppose I had notâI mean to say, suppose I had stuck tothe ship? Well. How much longer? Say a minuteâhalf a minute. Come. In thirty seconds, as it seemed certain then, I would have been overboard; and do you think I would not have laid hold of the first thing that came in my wayâoar, life-buoy, gratingâanything? Wouldn't you?â
ââAnd be saved,â I interjected.
ââI would have meant to be,â he retorted. âAnd that's more than I meant when I'⦠he shivered as if about to swallow some nauseous drug⦠âjumped,â he pronounced with a convulsive effort, whose stress, as if propagated by the waves of the air, made my body stir a little in the chair. He fixed me with lowering eyes. âDon't you believe me?â he cried. âI swear!⦠Confound it! You got me here to talk, and⦠You must!⦠You said you would believe.â âOf course I do,â I protested, in a matter-of-fact tone which produced a calming effect. âForgive me,â he said. âOf course I wouldn't have talked to you about all this if you had not been a gentleman. I ought to have known⦠I amâI amâa gentleman tooâ¦â âYes, yes,â I said hastily. He was looking me squarely in the face, and withdrew his gaze slowly. âNow you understand why I didn't after all⦠didn't go out in that way. I wasn't going to be frightened at what I had done.
Similar Books
