About the darkest hour of a very dark night, in the year 1883, a large brig lay becalmed on the Indian Ocean, not far from that region of the Eastern world which is associated in some minds with spices, volcanoes, coffee, and piratical junks, namely, the Malay Archipelago.
Two men slowly paced the brig's quarter-deck for some time in silence, as if the elemental quietude which prevailed above and below had infected them. Both men were broad, and apparently3 strong. One of them was tall; the other short. More than this the feeble light of the binnacle-lamp failed to reveal.
"Father," said the tall man to the short one, "I do like to hear the gentle pattering of the reef points on the sails; it is so suggestive of peace and rest. Doesn't it strike you so?"
"Can't say it does, lad," replied the short man, in a voice which, naturally mellow5 and hearty6, had been rendered nautically7 harsh and gruff by years of persistent8 roaring in the teeth of wind and weather. "More suggestive to me of lost time and lee-way."
The son laughed lightly, a pleasant, kindly9, soft laugh, in keeping with the scene and hour.
"Why, father," he resumed after a brief pause, "you are so sternly practical that you drive all the sentiment out of a fellow. I had almost risen to the regions of poetry just now, under the pleasant influences of nature."
"Glad I got hold of 'ee, lad, before you rose," growled10 the captain of the brig—for such the short man was. "When a young fellow like you gets up into the clouds o' poetry, he's like a man in a balloon—scarce knows how he got there; doesn't know very well how he's to get down, an' has no more idea where he's goin' to, or what he's drivin' at, than the man in the moon. Take my advice, lad, an' get out o' poetical11 regions as fast as ye can. It don't suit a young fellow who has got to do duty as first mate of his father's brig and push his way in the world as a seaman12. When I sent you to school an' made you a far better scholar than myself, I had no notion they was goin' to teach you poetry."
The captain delivered the last word with an emphasis which was meant to convey the idea of profound but not ill-natured scorn.
"Why, father," returned the young man, in a tone which plainly told of a gleeful laugh within him, which was as yet restrained, "it was not school that put poetry into me—if indeed there be any in me at all."
"What was it, then?"
"It was mother," returned the youth, promptly13, "and surely you don't object to poetry in her."
"Object!" cried the captain, as though speaking in the teeth of a Nor'wester. "Of course not. But then, Nigel, poetry in your mother is poetry, an' she can do it, lad—screeds of it—equal to anything that Dibdin, or, or,—that other fellow, you know, I forget his name—ever put pen to—why, your mother is herself a poem! neatly14 made up, rounded off at the corners, French-polished and all shipshape. Ha! you needn't go an' shelter yourself under her wings, wi' your inflated15, up in the clouds, reef-point-patterin', balloon-like nonsense."
"Well, well, father, don't get so hot about it; I won't offend again. Besides, I'm quite content to take a very low place so long as you give mother her right position. We won't disagree about that, but I suspect that we differ considerably16 about the other matter you mentioned."
"What other matter?" demanded the sire.
"My doing duty as first mate," answered the son. "It must be quite evident to you by this time, I should think, that I am not cut out for a sailor. After all your trouble, and my own efforts during this long voyage round the Cape17, I'm no better than an amateur. I told you that a youth taken fresh from college, without any previous experience of the sea except in boats, could not be licked into shape in so short a time. It is absurd to call me first mate of the Sunshine. That is in reality Mr. Moor18's position—"
"No, it isn't, Nigel, my son," interrupted the captain, firmly. "Mr. Moor is second mate. I say so, an' if I, the skipper and owner o' this brig, don't know it, I'd like to know who does! Now, look here, lad. You've always had a bad habit of underratin' yourself an' contradictin' your father. I'm an old salt, you know, an' I tell 'ee that for the time you've bin4 at sea, an' the opportunities you've had, you're a sort o' walkin' miracle. You're no more an ammytoor than I am, and another voyage or two will make you quite fit to work your way all over the ocean, an' finally to take command o' this here brig, an' let your old father stay at home wi'—wi'—"
"With the Poetess," suggested Nigel.
"Just so—wi' the equal o' Dibdin, not to mention the other fellow. Now it seems to me—. How's 'er head?"
The captain suddenly changed the subject here.
Nigel, who chanced to be standing19 next the binnacle, stooped to examine the compass, and the flood of light from its lamp revealed a smooth but manly20 and handsome face which seemed quite to harmonise with the cheery voice that belonged to it.
"Nor'-east-and-by-east," he said.
"Are 'ee sure, lad?"
"Your doubting me, father, does not correspond with your lately expressed opinion of my seamanship; does it?"
"Let me see," returned the captain, taking no notice of the remark, and stooping to look at the compass with a critical eye.
The flood of light, in this case, revealed a visage in which good-nature had evidently struggled for years against the virulent21 opposition22 of wind and weather, and had come off victorious23, though not without evidences of the conflict. At the same time it revealed features similar to those of the son, though somewhat rugged24 and red, besides being smothered25 in hair.
"Vulcan must be concoctin' a new brew," he muttered, as he gazed inquiringly over the bow, "or he's stirring up an old one."
"What d' you mean, father?"
"I mean that there's somethin' goin' on there-away—in the neighbourhood o' Sunda Straits," answered the Captain, directing attention to that point of the compass towards which the ship's head was turned. "Darkness like this don't happen without a cause. I've had some experience o' them seas before now, an' depend upon it that Vulcan is stirring up some o' the fires that are always blazin' away, more or less, around the Straits Settlements."
"By which you mean, I suppose, that one of the numerous volcanoes in the Malay Archipelago has become active," said Nigel; "but are we not some five or six hundred miles to the sou'-west of Sunda? Surely the influence of volcanic26 action could scarcely reach so far."
"So far!" repeated the captain, with a sort of humph which was meant to indicate mild contempt; "that shows how little you know, with all your book-learnin', about volcanoes."
"I don't profess27 to know much, father," retorted Nigel in a tone of cheery defiance28.
"Why, boy," continued the other, resuming his perambulation of the deck, "explosions have sometimes been heard for hundreds, ay hundreds, of miles. I thought I heard one just now, but no doubt the unusual darkness works up my imagination and makes me suspicious, for it's wonderful what fools the imag—. Hallo! D'ee feel that?"
He went smartly towards the binnacle-light, as he spoke29, and, holding an arm close to it, found that his sleeve was sprinkled with a thin coating of fine dust.
"Didn't I say so?" he exclaimed in some excitement, as he ran to the cabin skylight and glanced earnestly at the barometer30. That glance caused him to shout a sudden order to take in all sail. At the same moment a sigh of wind swept over the sleeping sea as if the storm-fiend were expressing regret at having been so promptly discovered and met.
Seamen31 are well used to sudden danger—especially in equatorial seas—and to prompt, unquestioning action. Not many minutes elapsed before the Sunshine was under the smallest amount of sail she could carry. Even before this had been well accomplished32 a stiff breeze was tearing up the surface of the sea into wild foam33, which a furious gale34 soon raised into raging billows.
The storm came from the Sunda Straits about which the captain and his son had just been talking, and was so violent that they could do nothing but scud35 before it under almost bare poles. All that night it raged. Towards morning it increased to such a pitch that one of the back-stays of the foremast gave way. The result was that the additional strain thus thrown on the other stays was too much for them. They also parted, and the fore-top-mast, snapping short off with a report like a cannon-shot, went over the side, carrying the main-topgallant-mast and all its gear along with it.
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1
ineffably
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| adv.难以言喻地，因神圣而不容称呼地 | |
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microscopically
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| 显微镜下 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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bin
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| n.箱柜；vt.放入箱内；[计算机] DOS文件名:二进制目标文件 | |
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mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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nautically
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| 在航海方面 | |
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persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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11
poetical
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| adj.似诗人的；诗一般的；韵文的；富有诗意的 | |
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12
seaman
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| n.海员，水手，水兵 | |
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13
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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15
inflated
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| adj.（价格）飞涨的；（通货）膨胀的；言过其实的；充了气的v.使充气（于轮胎、气球等）( inflate的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）膨胀；（使）通货膨胀；物价上涨 | |
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16
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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17
cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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18
moor
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| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
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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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manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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virulent
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| adj.有毒的，有恶意的，充满敌意的 | |
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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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26
volcanic
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| adj.火山的；象火山的；由火山引起的 | |
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27
profess
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| v.声称，冒称，以...为业，正式接受入教，表明信仰 | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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29
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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30
barometer
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| n.气压表，睛雨表，反应指标 | |
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31
seamen
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| n.海员 | |
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32
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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33
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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34
gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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scud
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| n.疾行；v.疾行 | |
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