I—representing in those days a large Birmingham firm of dealers7 in the fal-lal industries—had wished to make my way from Calcutta to Capetown. I saw the Justitia and took a fancy to her; I admired the long, low, piratic run of her hull8 as she lay with straining hawsepipes on the rushing stream of the Hooghly; upon which, as you watched, there might go by in the[135] space of an hour some half-score at least of dead natives made ghastly canoes of by huge birds, erect9 upon the corpses11, burying their beaks12 as they sailed along.
I found out that the Justitia was one of the smartest of the Thames and East India traders of that time, memorable13 on one occasion for having reeled off a clean seventeen knots by the log under a main topgallant-sail, set over a single-reefed topsail. It was murmured, indeed, that the mate who hove that log was drunk when he counted the knots; yet the dead reckoning tallied14 with the next day’s observations. I called upon the agents, was told that the Justitia was not a passenger ship, but that I could hire a cabin for the run to Capetown if I chose; a sum in rupees, trifling15 compared with the cost of transit16 by steam, was named. I went on board, found the captain walking up and down under the awning17, and agreeably killed an hour in a chat with as amiable18 a seaman19 as ever it was my good fortune to meet.
We sailed in the middle of July. Nothing worth talking about happened during our run down the Bay of Bengal. The crew aforemast were all of them Englishmen; there were twelve, counting the cook and steward20. The captain was a man named Cayzer; the only mate of the vessel21 was one William Perkins. The boatswain, a rough, short, hairy, immensely strong man, acted as second mate and kept a look-out when Perkins was below. But he was entirely22 ignorant of navigation,[136] and owned to me that he read with difficulty words of one syllable23, and could not write.
I was the only passenger. My name, I may as well say here, is Thomas Barron. Our run to the south Ceylon parallels was slow and disappointing. The monsoon24 was light and treacherous25, sometimes dying out in a sort of laughing, mocking gust26 till the whole ocean was a sheet-calm surface, as though the dependable trade wind was never again to blow.
“Oh yes,” said Captain Cayzer to me, “we’re used to the unexpected hereabouts. Monsoon or no monsoon, I’ll tell you what: you’re always safe in standing27 by for an Irishman’s hurricane down here.”
“And what sort of breeze is that?” I asked.
“An up-and-down calm,” said he; “as hard to know where it begins as to guess where it’ll end.”
However, thanks to the frequent trade puffs28 and other winds, which tasted not like the monsoon, we crawled through those latitudes29 which Ceylon spans, and fetched within a few degrees of the equator. In this part of the waters we were to be thankful for even the most trifling donation of catspaw, or for the equally small and short-lived mercy of the gust of the electric cloud. I forget how many days we were out from Calcutta: the matter is of no moment. I left my cabin one morning some hour after the sun had risen, by which time the decks had been washed down, and were already dry, with a salt sparkle as of bright white sand[137] on the face of the planks30, so roasting was it. I went into the head to get a bath under the pump there. I feel in memory, as I write, the exquisite32 sensation of that luxury of brilliant brine, cold as snow, melting through me from head to foot to the nimble plying33 of the pump-brake by a seaman.
It was a true tropic morning. The sea, of a pale lilac, flowed in a long-drawn, gentle heave of swell34 into the south-west; the glare of the early morning brooded in a sort of steamy whiteness in the atmosphere; the sea went working to its distant reaches, and floated into a dim blending of liquid air and water, so that you couldn’t tell where the sky ended; a weak, hot wind blew over the taffrail, but it was without weight. The courses swung to the swell without response to the breathings of the air; and on high the light cotton-white royals were scarcely curved by the delicate passage of the draught36.
Yet the barque had steerage way. When I looked through the grating at her metalled forefoot I saw the ripples39 plentiful40 as harp41 strings42 threading aft, and whilst I dried myself I watched the slow approach of a piece of timber hoary43 with barnacles, and venerable with long hairs of seaweed, amid and around which a thousand little fish were sporting, many-coloured as though a rainbow had been shivered.
I returned to my cabin, dressed, and stepped on to the quarter-deck, where I found some men spreading the awning, and the captain in a white straw hat viewing[138] an object out upon the water through a telescope, and talking to the boatswain, who stood alongside.
“What do you see?” I asked.
“Something that resembles a raft,” answered the captain.
The thing he looked at was about a mile distant, some three points on the starboard bow. On pointing the telescope, I distinctly made out the fabric44 of a raft, fitted with a short mast, to which midway a bundle—it resembled a parcel—was attached. A portion of the raft was covered by a white sheet or cloth, whence dangled45 a short length of something chocolate-coloured, indistinguishable even with the glass, lifting and sinking as the raft rose and fell upon the flowing heave of the sea.
“This ocean,” said the captain, taking the glass from me, “is a big volume of tragic46 stories, and the artist who illustrates47 the book does it in that fashion,” and he nodded in the direction of the raft.
“What do you make of it, boatswain?” I asked.
“It looks to me,” he answered in his strong, harsh, deep voice, “like a religious job—one of them rafts the Burmah covies float away their dead on. I never see one afore, sir, but I’ve heard tell of such things.”
We sneaked48 stealthily towards the raft. It was seven bells—half-past seven—and the sailors ate their breakfast on the forecastle, that they might view the strange contrivance. The mate, Mr. Perkins, came on deck to relieve the boatswain, and, after inspecting the[139] raft through the telescope, gave it as his opinion that it was a Malay floating bier—“a Mussulman trick of ocean burial, anyhow,” said he. “There should be a jar of water aboard the raft, and cakes and fruit for the corpse10 to regale49 on, if he ha’n’t been dead long.”
The steward announced breakfast; the captain told him to hold it back awhile. He was as curious as I to get a close view of the queer object with its white cloth and mast and parcel and chocolate-coloured fragment half in and half out like a barge’s leeboard, and he bade the man at the helm put the wheel over by a spoke50 or two; but the wind was nearly gone, the barque scarcely responded to the motion of her rudder, the thread-like lines at the cut-water had faded, and a roasting, oppressive calm was upon the water, whitening it out into a tingling51 sheen of quicksilver with a fiery52 shaft53 of blinding dazzle, solitary54 and splendid, working with the swell like some monstrous55 serpent of light right under the sun.
The raft was about six cables’ lengths off us when the barque came to a dead stand, with a soft, universal hollowing in of her canvas from royal to course, as though, like something sentient56, she delivered one final sigh before the swoon of the calm seized her. But now we were near enough to resolve the floating thing with the naked eye into details. It was a raft formed of bamboo canes57. A mast about six feet tall was erected58 upon it; the dark thing over the edge proved a human leg, and, when the fabric lifted with the swell and raised[140] the leg clear, we saw that the foot had been eaten away by fish, a number of which were swimming about the raft, sending little flashes of foam59 over the pale surface as they darted60 along with their back or dorsal61 fins62 exposed. They were all little fish; I saw no sharks. The body to which the leg belonged was covered by a white cloth. The captain called my attention to the parcel attached to the mast, and said that it possibly contained the food which the Malays leave beside their dead after burial.
“But let’s go to breakfast now, Mr. Barron,” said he, with a slow, reproachful, impatient look round the breathless scene of ocean. “If there’s any amusement to be got out of that thing yonder there’s a precious long, quiet day before us, I fear, for the entertainment.”
We breakfasted, and in due course returned on deck. The slewing63 of the barque had caused the raft to shift its bearings, otherwise its distance remained as it was when we went below.
“Mr. Perkins,” said the captain, “lower a boat and bring aboard that parcel from the raft’s jury-mast, and likewise take a peep at the figure under the cloth, and report its sex and what it looks like.”
I asked leave to go in the boat, and when she was lowered, with three men in her, I followed Mr. Perkins, and we rowed over to the raft. All above the frail35 bamboo contrivance the water was beautiful with the colours and movements of innumerable fish. As we approached we were greeted by an evil smell. The raft[141] seemed to have been afloat for a considerable period; its submerged portion was green with marine64 adhesions or growths. The fellow in the bows of the boat, manœuvring with the boathook, cleverly snicked the parcel from the jury-mast and handed it along to the mate, who put it beside him without opening it, for that was to be the captain’s privilege.
“Off with that cloth,” said Mr. Perkins, “and then back water a bit out of this atmosphere.”
The bowman jerked the cloth clear of the raft with his boathook; the white sheet floated like a snowflake upon the water for a few breaths, then slowly sank. The body exposed was stark65 naked and tawny66. It was a male. I saw nothing revolting in the thing; it would have been otherwise perhaps had it been white. The hair was long and black, the nose aquiline67, the mouth puckered68 into the aspect of a hare-lip; the gleam of a few white teeth painted a ghastly contemptuous grin upon the dead face. The only shocking part was the footless leg.
“Shall I hook him overboard, sir?” said the bowman.
“No, let him take his ease as he lies,” answered the mate, and with that we returned to the barque.
We climbed over the side, the boat was hoisted69 to the davits, and Mr. Perkins took the parcel out of the stern-sheets and handed it to the captain. The cover was a kind of fine canvas, very neatly70 stitched with white thread. Captain Cayzer ripped through the stitching with his knife, and exposed a couple of books[142] bound in some kind of skin or parchment. They were probably the Koran, but the characters none of us knew. The captain turned them about for a bit, and I stood by looking at them; he then replaced them in their canvas cover and put them down upon the skylight, and by-and-by, on his leaving the deck, he took them below to his cabin.
The moon rose about ten that night. She came up hot, distorted, with a sullen71 face belted with vapour, but was soon clear of the dewy thickness over the horizon and showering a pure greenish silver upon the sea. She made the night lovely and cool: her reflection sparkled in the dew along the rails, and her beam whitened out the canvas into the tender softness of wreaths of cloud motionless upon the summit of some dark heap of mountain. I looked for the raft and saw it plainly, and it is not in language to express how the sight of that frail cradle of death deepened the universal silence and expanded the prodigious72 distances defined by the stars, and accentuated73 the tremendous spirit of loneliness that slept like a presence in that wide region of sea and air.
There had not been a stir of wind all day: not the faintest breathing of breeze had tarnished74 the sea down to the hour of midnight when, feeling weary, I withdrew to my cabin. I slept well, spite of the heat and the cockroaches75, and rose at seven. I found the steward in the cabin. His face wore a look of concern, and on seeing me he instantly exclaimed—
[143]
“The captain seems very ill, sir. Might you know anything of physic? Neither Mr. Perkins nor me can make out what’s the matter.”
“I know nothing of physic,” I answered, “but I’ll look in on him.”
I stepped to his door, knocked, and entered. Captain Cayzer lay in a bunk76 under a middling-sized porthole: the cabin was full of the morning light. I started and stood at gaze, scarce crediting my sight, so shocked and astounded77 was I by the dreadful change which had happened in the night in the poor man’s appearance. His face was blue, and I remarked a cadaverous sinking in of the eyeballs: the lips were livid, the hands likewise blue, but strangely wrinkled like a washer-woman’s. On seeing me he asked in a husky whispering voice for a drink of water. I handed him a full pannikin, which he drained feverishly79, and then began to moan and cry out, making some weak miserable80 efforts to rub first one arm, then the other, then his legs.
The steward stood in the doorway81. I turned to him, sensible that my face was ashen82, and asked some questions. I then said, “Where is Mr. Perkins?”
He was on deck. I bade the steward attend to the captain, and passed through the hatch to the quarter-deck, where I found the mate.
“Do you know that the captain is very ill?” said I.
“Do I know it, sir? Why, yes. I’ve been sitting[144] by him chafing83 his limbs and giving him water to drink, and attending to him in other ways. What is it, d’ye know, sir?”
“Cholera84!” said I.
“Oh, my God, I hope not!” he exclaimed. “How could it be cholera? How could cholera come aboard?”
“A friend of mine died of cholera at Rangoon when I was there,” said I. “I recognize the looks, and will swear to the symptoms.”
“But how could it have come aboard?” he exclaimed, in a voice low but agitated85.
My eyes, as he asked the question, were upon the raft. I started and cried, “Is that thing still there?”
“Ay,” said the mate, “we haven’t budged86 a foot all night.”
The suspicion rushed upon me whilst I looked at the raft, and ran my eyes over the bright hot morning sky and the burnished87 surface of sea, sheeting into dimness in the misty88 junction89 of heaven and water.
“I shouldn’t be surprised,” said I, “to discover that we brought the cholera aboard with us yesterday from that dead man’s raft yonder.”
“How is cholera to be caught in that fashion?” exclaimed Mr. Perkins, pale and a bit wild in his way of staring at me.
“We may have brought the poison aboard in the parcel of books.”
“Is cholera to be caught so?”
“Undoubtedly. The disease may be propagated[145] by human intercourse90. Why not, then, by books which have been handled by cholera-poisoned people, or by the atmosphere of a body dead of the plague?” I added, pointing at the raft.
“No man amongst us is safe, then, now?” cried the mate.
“I’m no doctor,” said I; “but I know this, that contagious91 poisons, such as scarlet92 fever and glanders, may retain their properties in a dormant93 state for years. I’ve heard tell of scores of instances of cholera being propagated through articles of dress. Depend upon it,” said I, “that we brought the poison aboard with us yesterday from that accursed death-raft yonder.”
“Aren’t the books in the captain’s cabin?” said the mate.
“Are they?”
“He took them below yesterday, sir.”
“The sooner they’re overboard the better,” I exclaimed, and returned to the cabin.
I went to the captain, and found the steward rubbing him. The disease appeared to be doing its work with horrible rapidity; the eyes were deeply sunk and red; every feature had grown sharp and pinched as after a long wasting disease; the complexion94 was thick and muddy. Those who have watched beside cholera know that terrific changes may take place in a few minutes. I cast my eyes about for the parcel of books, and, spying it, took a stick[146] from a corner of the berth95, hooked up the parcel, and, passing it through the open porthole, shook it overboard.
The captain followed my movements with a languid rolling of his eyes but spoke not, though he groaned96 often, and frequently cried out. I could not in the least imagine what was proper to be done. His was the most important life on board the ship, and yet I could only look on and helplessly watch him expire.
He lived till the evening, and seldom spoke save to call upon God to release him. I had found an opportunity to tell him that he was ill of the cholera, and explained how it happened that the horrible distemper was on board, for I was absolutely sure we had brought it with us in that parcel of books; but his anguish98 was so keen, his death so close then, that I cannot be sure he understood me. He died shortly after seven o’clock, and I have since learnt that that time is one of the critical hours in cholera.
When the captain was dead I went to the mate, and advised him to cast the body overboard at once. He called to some of the hands. They brought the body out just as the poor fellow had died, and, securing a weight to the feet, they lifted the corpse over the rail, and dropped it. No burial service was read. We were all too panic-stricken for reverence99. We got rid of the body quickly, the men handling the thing as though they felt the death in it stealing into them through their fingers—hoping and praying that with[147] it the cholera would go. It was almost dark when this hurried funeral was ended. I stood beside the mate, looking round the sea for a shadow of wind in any quarter. The boatswain, who had been one of the men that handled the body, came up to us.
“Ain’t there nothing to be done with that corpus out there?” he exclaimed, pointing with a square hand to the raft. “The men are agreed that there’ll come no wind whilst that there dead blackie keeps afloat. And ain’t he enough to make a disease of the hatmosphere itself, from horizon to horizon?”
I waited for the mate to answer. He said gloomily, “I’m of the poor captain’s mind. You’ll need to make something fast to the body to sink it. Who’s to handle it? I’ll ask no man to do what I wouldn’t do myself, and rat me if I’d do that!”
“We brought the poison aboard by visiting the raft, bo’sun,” said I. “Best leave the thing alone. The corpse is too far off to corrupt101 the air, as you suppose; though the imagination’s nigh as bad as the reality,” said I, spitting.
“If there’s any of them game to sink the thing, may they do it?” said the boatswain. “For if there’s ne’er a breeze of wind to come while it’s there——”
“Chaw!” said the mate. “But try ’em, if you will. They may take the boat when the moon’s up, should there come no wind first.”
An hour later the steward told me that two of the sailors were seized with cramps102 and convulsions.[148] After this no more was said about taking the boat and sinking the body. The mate went into the forecastle. On his return, he begged me to go and look at the men.
“Better make sure that it’s cholera with them too, sir,” said he. “You know the signs;” and, folding his arms, he leaned against the bulwarks103 in a posture104 of profound dejection.
I went forward and descended105 the forescuttle, and found myself in a small cave. The heat was overpowering; there was no air to pass through the little hatch; the place was dimly lighted by an evil-smelling lamp hanging under a beam, but, poor as the illumination was, I could see by it, and when I looked at the two men and spoke to them, I saw how it was, and came away sick at heart, and half dead with the hot foul106 air of the forecastle, and in deepest distress107 of mind, moreover, through perceiving that the two men had formed a part of the crew of the boat when we visited the raft.
One died at six o’clock next morning, and the other at noon; but before this second man was dead three others had been attacked, and one of them was the mate. And still never a breath of air stirred the silver surface of the sea.
The mate was a strong man, and his fear of death made the conflict dreadful to behold108. I was paralyzed at first by the suddenness of the thing and the tremendous character of our calamity109, and, never[149] doubting that I must speedily prove a victim as being one who had gone in the boat, I cast myself down upon a sofa in the cabin and there sat, waiting for the first signal of pain, sometimes praying, or striving to pray, and seeking hard to accustom110 my mind to the fate I regarded as inevitable111. But a keen and biting sense of my cowardice112 came to my rescue. I sprang to my feet and went to the mate’s berth, and nursed him till he died, which was shortly before midnight of the day of his seizure—so swift and sure was the poison we had brought from the raft. He was dropped over the side, and in a few hours later he was followed by three others. I cannot be sure of my figures: it was a time of delirium113, and I recall some details of it with difficulty, but I am pretty sure that by the morning of the fourth day of our falling in with the accursed raft the ship’s company had been reduced to the boatswain and five men, making, with myself, seven survivors114 of fifteen souls who had sailed from Calcutta.
It was some time about the middle of the fifth day—two men were then lying stricken in the forecastle—the boatswain and a couple of seamen115 came aft to the quarter-deck where I was standing. The wheel was deserted116: no man had grasped it since the captain’s death; indeed, there was nothing to be done at the helm. The ocean floated in liquid glass; the smell of frying paint, bubbled into cinders117 by the roasting rays, rose like the stench of a second plague to the nostrils118.[150] The boatswain and his companions had been drinking; no doubt they had broached119 the rum casks below. They had never entered the cabin to my knowledge, nor do I believe they got their liquor from there. The boatswain carried a heavy weight of some sort, bound in canvas, with a long laniard attached to it. He flung the parcel into the quarter-boat, and roared out—
“If that don’t drag the blistered120 cuss out of sight I’ll show the fired carcass the road myself. Cholera or no cholera, here goes!”
“What are you going to do?” said I.
“Do?” he cried; “why sink that there plague out of it, so as to give us the chance of a breeze. Ain’t this hell’s delight? What’s a-going to blow us clear whilst he keeps watch?” And he nodded with a fierce drunken gesture towards the raft.
“You’ll have to handle the body to sink it,” said I. “You’re well men, now; keep well, won’t you? The two who are going may be the next taken.”
The three of them roared out drunkenly together, so muddling121 their speech with oaths that I did not understand them. I walked aft, not liking122 their savage123 looks. Shouting and cursing plentifully124, they lowered the boat, got into her by descending125 the falls, and shoved off for the raft. They drew alongside the bamboo contrivance, and I looked to see the boat capsize, so wildly did they sway her in their wrath126 and drink as they fastened the weight to the foot of the body. They then sank the corpse, and, with the loom100 of their oars,[151] hammered at the raft till the bamboos were scattered127 like a sheaf of walking-sticks cut adrift. They now returned to the barque, clambered aboard, and hoisted the boat.
The two sick men in the forecastle were at this time looked after by a seaman named Archer128. I have said it was the fifth day of the calm; of the ship’s company the boatswain and five men were living, but two were dying, and that, not counting me, left three as yet well and able to get about.
This man Archer, when the boatswain and his companions went forward, came out of the forecastle, and drank at the scuttle-butt in the waist. He walked unsteadily, with that effort after stateliness which is peculiar129 to tipsy sailors; his eyes wandered, and he found some difficulty in hitting the bunghole with the dipper. Yet he was a civil sort of man when sober; I had occasionally chatted with him during his tricks at the wheel; and, feeling the need of some one to talk to about our frightful131 situation, I walked up to him, and asked how the sick men did.
“Dying fast,” he answered, steadying himself by leaning against the scuttle-butt, “and a-ravin’ like screech-owls.”
“What’s to be done, Archer?”
“Oh, God alone He knows!” answered the man, and here he put his knuckles132 into his eyes, and began to cry and sob130.
“Is it possible that this calm can last much longer?”
[152]
“It may last six weeks,” he answered, whimpering. “Down here, when the wind’s drawed away by the sun, it may take six weeks afore it comes on to blow. Six weeks of calm down here ain’t thought nothen of,” and here he burst out blubbering again.
“Where do you get your liquor from?” said I.
“Oh, don’t talk of it, don’t talk of it!” he replied, with a maudlin133 shake of the head.
“Drinking’ll not help you,” said I; “you’ll all be the likelier to catch the malady134 for drinking. This is a sort of time, I should think, when a man most wants his senses. A breeze may come, and we ought to decide where to steer37 the barque to. The vessel’s under all plain sail, too, and here we are, four men and a useless passenger, should it come on to blow suddenly——”
“We didn’t sign on under you,” he interrupted, with a tipsy scowl135, “and as ye ain’t no good either as sailor or doctor, you can keep your blooming sarmons to yourself till they’re asked for.”
I had now not only to fear the cholera but to dread78 the men. My mental distress was beyond all power of words to convey: I wonder it did not quickly drive me crazy and hurry me overboard. I lurked136 in the cabin to be out of sight of the fellows, and all the while my imagination was tormenting138 me with the first pangs139 of the cholera, and every minute I was believing I had the mortal malady. Sometimes I would creep up the companion steps and cautiously peer around, and always I beheld140 the same dead, faint blue surface of sea stretching[153] like an ocean in a dream into the faint indefinable distances. But shocking as that calm was to me, I very well knew there was nothing wonderful or preternatural in it. Our forefoot five days before had struck the equatorial zone called the Doldrums, and at a period of the year when a fortnight or even a month of atmospheric141 lifelessness might be as confidently looked for as the rising and setting of the sun.
At nine o’clock that night I was sitting at the cabin table with biscuit and a little weak brandy and water before me, when I was hailed by some one at the open skylight above. It was black night, though the sky was glorious with stars: the moon did not rise till after eleven. I had lighted the cabin lamp, and the sheen of it was upon the face of Archer.
“The two men are dead and gone,” said he, “and now the bo’sun and Bill are down. There’s Jim dead drunk in his hammock. I can’t stand the cries of sick men. What with liquor and pain, the air below suffocates142 me. Let me come aft, sir, and keep along with you. I’m sober now. Oh, Christ, have mercy upon me! It’s my turn next, ain’t it?”
I passed a glass of brandy to him through the skylight, then joined him on deck, and told him that the two dead bodies must be thrown overboard, and the sick men looked to. For some time he refused to go forward with me, saying that he was already poisoned and deadly sick, and a dying man, and that I had no right to expect that one dying man should wait upon[154] another. However, I was determined143 to turn the dead out of the ship in any case, for in freeing the vessel of the remains144 of the victims might lie my salvation145. He consented to help me at last, and we went into the forecastle, and between us got the bodies out of their bunks146, and dropped them, weighted, over the rail. The boatswain and the other men lay groaning147 and writhing148 and crying for water; cursing at intervals149. A coil of black smoke went up from the lamp flame to the blackened beam under which the light was burning. The atmosphere was horrible. I bade Archer help me to carry a couple of mattresses150 on to the forecastle, and we got the sick men through the hatch, and they lay there in the coolness with plenty of cold water beside them and a heaven of stars above, instead of a low-pitched ceiling of grimy beam and plank31 dark with processions of cockroaches, and dim with the smoke of the stinking152 slush lamp.
All this occupied us till about half-past ten. When I went aft I was seized with nausea153, and, sinking upon the skylight, dabbled154 my brow in the dew betwixt the lifted lids for the refreshment155 of the moisture. I believed that my time had come, and that this sickness was the cholera. Archer followed me, and seeing me in a posture of torment137, as he supposed, concluded that I was a dead man. He flung himself upon the deck with a groan97, and lay motionless, crying out at intervals, “God, have mercy! God, have mercy!” and that was all.
[155]
In about half an hour’s time the sensation of sickness passed. I went below for some brandy, swallowed half a glass, and returning with a dram for Archer, but the man had either swooned or fallen asleep, and I let him lie. I had my senses perfectly156, but felt shockingly weak in body, and I could think of nothing consolatory157 to diminish my exquisite distress of mind. Indeed, the capacity of realization158 grew unendurably poignant159. I imagined too well, I figured too clearly. I pictured myself as lying dead upon the deck of the barque, found a corpse by some passing vessel after many days; and so I dreamt, often breaking away from my horrible imaginations with moans and starts, then pacing the deck to rid me of the nightmare hag of thought till I was in a fever, then cooling my head by laying my cheek upon the dew-covered skylight.
By-and-by the moon rose, and I sat watching it. In half an hour she was a bright light in the east, and the shaft of silver that slept under her stretched to the barque’s side. It was just then that one of the two sick men on the forecastle sent up a yell. The dreadful note rang through the vessel, and dropped back to the deck in an echo from the canvas. A moment after I saw a figure get on to the forecastle-rail and spring overboard. I heard the splash of his body, and, bounding over to Archer, who lay on the deck, I pulled and hauled at him, roaring out that one of the sick men had jumped overboard, and then rushed forward and looked over into the water in the place[156] where the man had leapt, but saw nothing, not even a ripple38.
I turned and peered close at the man who lay on the forecastle, and discovered that the fellow who had jumped was the boatswain. I went again to the rail to look, and lifted a coil of rope from a pin, ready to fling the fakes to the man, should he rise. The moonlight was streaming along the ocean on this side of the ship, and now, when I leaned over the rail for the second time, I saw a figure close under the bows. I stared a minute or two; the colour of the body blended with the gloom, yet the moonlight was upon him too, and then it was that after looking awhile, and observing the thing to lie motionless, I perceived that it was the body that had been upon the raft! No doubt the extreme horror raised in me by the sight of the poisonous thing beheld in that light and under such conditions crazed me. I have a recollection of laughing wildly, and of defying the dark floating shape in insane language. I remember that I shook my fist and spat160 at it, and that I turned to seek for something to hurl161 at the body, and it may have been that in the instant of turning, my senses left me, for after this I can recall no more.
The sequel to this tragic and extraordinary experience will be found in the following statement, made by the people of the ship Forfarshire, from Calcutta to Liverpool:—“August 29, 1857. When in latitude[157] 2° 15´ N. and longitude162 79° 40´ E. we sighted a barque under all plain sail, apparently163 abandoned. The breeze was very scanty164, and though we immediately shifted our helm for her on judging that she was in distress, it took us all the morning to approach her within hailing distance. Everything looked right with her aloft, but the wheel was deserted, and there were no signs of anything living in her. We sent a boat in charge of the second officer, who returned and informed us that the barque was the Justitia, of London. We knew that she was from Calcutta, for we had seen her lying in the river. The second officer stated that there were three dead bodies aboard, one in a hammock in the forecastle, a second on a mattress151 on the forecastle, and a third against the coamings of the main-hatch; there was also a fourth man lying at the heel of the port cathead—he did not seem to be dead. On this Dr. Davison was requested to visit the barque, and he was put aboard by the second officer. He returned quickly with one of the men, whom he instantly ordered to be stripped and put into a warm bath, and his clothes thrown overboard. He said that the dead showed unmistakable signs of having died from cholera. We proceeded, not deeming it prudent165 to have anything further to do with the ill-fated craft. The person we had rescued remained insensible for two days; his recovery was then slow, but sure, thanks to the skilful166 treatment of Dr. Davison. He informed us that his name was Thomas Barron, and that he was a passenger[158] on board the Justitia for Capetown. He was the travelling representative of a large Birmingham firm. The barque had on the preceding Friday week fallen in with a raft bearing a dead body. A boat was sent to bring away a parcel from the raft’s mast, and it is supposed that the contents of the parcel communicated the cholera. There were fifteen souls when the vessel left Calcutta, and all perished except the passenger, Thomas Barron.”
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1
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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2
bazaar
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| n.集市，商店集中区 | |
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3
palatial
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| adj.宫殿般的，宏伟的 | |
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4
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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starry
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| adj.星光照耀的, 闪亮的 | |
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6
fore
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| adv.在前面；adj.先前的；在前部的；n.前部 | |
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7
dealers
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| n.商人( dealer的名词复数 )；贩毒者；毒品贩子；发牌者 | |
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8
hull
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| n.船身；(果、实等的)外壳；vt.去(谷物等)壳 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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10
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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corpses
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| n.死尸，尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
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12
beaks
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| n.鸟嘴( beak的名词复数 )；鹰钩嘴；尖鼻子；掌权者 | |
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13
memorable
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| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
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14
tallied
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| v.计算，清点( tally的过去式和过去分词 )；加标签（或标记）于；（使）符合；（使）吻合 | |
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15
trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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16
transit
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| n.经过，运输；vt.穿越，旋转；vi.越过 | |
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17
awning
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| n.遮阳篷；雨篷 | |
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18
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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19
seaman
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| n.海员，水手，水兵 | |
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20
steward
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| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
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21
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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22
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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23
syllable
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| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
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24
monsoon
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| n.季雨，季风，大雨 | |
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25
treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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26
gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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27
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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28
puffs
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| n.吸( puff的名词复数 )；（烟斗或香烟的）一吸；一缕（烟、蒸汽等）；（呼吸或风的）呼v.使喷出( puff的第三人称单数 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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29
latitudes
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| 纬度 | |
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30
planks
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| （厚）木板( plank的名词复数 )； 政纲条目，政策要点 | |
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31
plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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32
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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33
plying
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| v.使用（工具）( ply的现在分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
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34
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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35
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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36
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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37
steer
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| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
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38
ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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39
ripples
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| 逐渐扩散的感觉( ripple的名词复数 ) | |
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40
plentiful
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| adj.富裕的，丰富的 | |
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41
harp
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| n.竖琴；天琴座 | |
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42
strings
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| n.弦 | |
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43
hoary
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| adj.古老的；鬓发斑白的 | |
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44
fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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45
dangled
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| 悬吊着( dangle的过去式和过去分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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46
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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47
illustrates
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| 给…加插图( illustrate的第三人称单数 )； 说明； 表明； （用示例、图画等）说明 | |
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48
sneaked
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| v.潜行( sneak的过去式和过去分词 )；偷偷溜走；（儿童向成人）打小报告；告状 | |
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49
regale
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| v.取悦，款待 | |
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50
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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51
tingling
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的现在分词 ) | |
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52
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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53
shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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54
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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55
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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56
sentient
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| adj.有知觉的，知悉的；adv.有感觉能力地 | |
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57
canes
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| n.（某些植物，如竹或甘蔗的）茎( cane的名词复数 )；（用于制作家具等的）竹竿；竹杖 | |
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58
ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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59
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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60
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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61
dorsal
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| adj.背部的，背脊的 | |
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62
fins
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| [医]散热片；鱼鳍；飞边；鸭掌 | |
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63
slewing
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| n.快速定向，快速瞄准v.（尤指在协议或建议中）规定，约定，讲明（条件等）( stipulate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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64
marine
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| adj.海的；海生的；航海的；海事的；n.水兵 | |
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65
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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66
tawny
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| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
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67
aquiline
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| adj.钩状的，鹰的 | |
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68
puckered
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| v.（使某物）起褶子或皱纹( pucker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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69
hoisted
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| 把…吊起，升起( hoist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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70
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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71
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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72
prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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73
accentuated
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| v.重读( accentuate的过去式和过去分词 )；使突出；使恶化；加重音符号于 | |
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74
tarnished
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| （通常指金属）（使）失去光泽，（使）变灰暗( tarnish的过去式和过去分词 )； 玷污，败坏 | |
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75
cockroaches
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| n.蟑螂( cockroach的名词复数 ) | |
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76
bunk
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| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
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77
astounded
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| v.使震惊(astound的过去式和过去分词)；愕然；愕；惊讶 | |
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78
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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79
feverishly
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| adv. 兴奋地 | |
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80
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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81
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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82
ashen
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| adj.灰的 | |
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83
chafing
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| n.皮肤发炎v.擦热（尤指皮肤）( chafe的现在分词 )；擦痛；发怒；惹怒 | |
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84
cholera
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| n.霍乱 | |
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85
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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86
budged
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| v.（使）稍微移动( budge的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）改变主意，（使）让步 | |
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87
burnished
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| adj.抛光的，光亮的v.擦亮（金属等），磨光( burnish的过去式和过去分词 )；被擦亮，磨光 | |
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88
misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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89
junction
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| n.连接，接合；交叉点，接合处，枢纽站 | |
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90
intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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91
contagious
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| adj.传染性的，有感染力的 | |
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92
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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93
dormant
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| adj.暂停活动的；休眠的；潜伏的 | |
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94
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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95
berth
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| n.卧铺，停泊地，锚位；v.使停泊 | |
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96
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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97
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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98
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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99
reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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100
loom
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| n.织布机，织机；v.隐现，(危险、忧虑等)迫近 | |
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101
corrupt
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| v.贿赂，收买；adj.腐败的，贪污的 | |
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102
cramps
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| n. 抽筋, 腹部绞痛, 铁箍 adj. 狭窄的, 难解的 v. 使...抽筋, 以铁箍扣紧, 束缚 | |
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103
bulwarks
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| n.堡垒( bulwark的名词复数 )；保障；支柱；舷墙 | |
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104
posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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105
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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106
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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107
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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108
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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109
calamity
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| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
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110
accustom
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| vt.使适应，使习惯 | |
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111
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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112
cowardice
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| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
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113
delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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114
survivors
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| 幸存者，残存者，生还者( survivor的名词复数 ) | |
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115
seamen
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| n.海员 | |
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116
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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117
cinders
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| n.煤渣( cinder的名词复数 )；炭渣；煤渣路；煤渣跑道 | |
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118
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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119
broached
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| v.谈起( broach的过去式和过去分词 )；打开并开始用；用凿子扩大（或修光）；（在桶上）钻孔取液体 | |
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120
blistered
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| adj.水疮状的，泡状的v.（使）起水泡( blister的过去式和过去分词 )；（使表皮等）涨破，爆裂 | |
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121
muddling
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| v.弄乱，弄糟( muddle的现在分词 )；使糊涂；对付，混日子 | |
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122
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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123
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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124
plentifully
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| adv. 许多地，丰饶地 | |
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125
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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126
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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127
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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128
archer
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| n.射手，弓箭手 | |
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129
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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130
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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131
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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132
knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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133
maudlin
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| adj.感情脆弱的，爱哭的 | |
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134
malady
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| n.病，疾病(通常做比喻) | |
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135
scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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136
lurked
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| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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137
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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138
tormenting
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| 使痛苦的，使苦恼的 | |
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pangs
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| 突然的剧痛( pang的名词复数 )； 悲痛 | |
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beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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141
atmospheric
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| adj.大气的，空气的；大气层的；大气所引起的 | |
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suffocates
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| （使某人）窒息而死( suffocate的第三人称单数 )； （将某人）闷死； 让人感觉闷热； 憋气 | |
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143
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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144
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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145
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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146
bunks
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| n.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的名词复数 )；空话，废话v.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的第三人称单数 )；空话，废话 | |
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147
groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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148
writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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149
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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150
mattresses
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| 褥垫，床垫( mattress的名词复数 ) | |
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151
mattress
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| n.床垫，床褥 | |
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152
stinking
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| adj.臭的，烂醉的，讨厌的v.散发出恶臭( stink的现在分词 )；发臭味；名声臭；糟透 | |
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153
nausea
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| n.作呕，恶心；极端的憎恶(或厌恶) | |
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154
dabbled
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| v.涉猎( dabble的过去式和过去分词 )；涉足；浅尝；少量投资 | |
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155
refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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156
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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157
consolatory
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| adj.慰问的，可藉慰的 | |
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158
realization
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| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
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159
poignant
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| adj.令人痛苦的，辛酸的，惨痛的 | |
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160
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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161
hurl
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| vt.猛投，力掷，声叫骂 | |
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162
longitude
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| n.经线，经度 | |
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163
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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164
scanty
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| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
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165
prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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166
skilful
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| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
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