A stupid job, and fit only for an old man, my comrades used to tell me, to be the night-watchman of a captive (though honoured) ship. And generally the oldest of the able seamen25 in a ship’s crew does get it. But sometimes neither the oldest nor any other fairly steady seaman26 is forthcoming. Ships’ crews had the trick of melting away swiftly in those days. So, probably on account of my youth, innocence27, and pensive28 habits (which made me sometimes dilatory29 in my work about the rigging), I was suddenly nominated, in our chief mate Mr. B——’s most sardonic30 tones, to that enviable situation. I do not regret the experience. The night humours of the town descended31 from the street to the waterside in the still watches of the night: larrikins rushing down in bands to settle some quarrel by a stand-up fight, away from the police, in an indistinct ring half hidden by piles of cargo, with the sounds of blows, a groan32 now and then, the stamping of feet, and the cry of “Time!” rising suddenly above the sinister33 and excited murmurs34; night-prowlers, pursued or pursuing, with a stifled35 shriek36 followed by a profound silence, or slinking stealthily along-side like ghosts, and addressing me from the quay below in mysterious tones with incomprehensible propositions. The cabmen, too, who twice a week, on the night when the A.S.N. Company’s passenger-boat was due to arrive, used to range a battalion37 of blazing lamps opposite the ship, were very amusing in their way. They got down from their perches38 and told each other impolite stories in racy language, every word of which reached me distinctly over the bulwarks39 as I sat smoking on the main-hatch. On one occasion I had an hour or so of a most intellectual conversation with a person whom I could not see distinctly, a gentleman from England, he said, with a cultivated voice, I on deck and he on the quay sitting on the case of a piano (landed out of our hold that very afternoon), and smoking a cigar which smelt40 very good. We touched, in our discourse41, upon science, politics, natural history, and operatic singers. Then, after remarking abruptly42, “You seem to be rather intelligent, my man,” he informed me pointedly43 that his name was Mr. Senior, and walked off — to his hotel, I suppose. Shadows! Shadows! I think I saw a white whisker as he turned under the lamp-post. It is a shock to think that in the natural course of nature he must be dead by now. There was nothing to object to in his intelligence but a little dogmatism maybe. And his name was Senior! Mr. Senior!
The position had its drawbacks, however. One wintry, blustering44, dark night in July, as I stood sleepily out of the rain under the break of the poop something resembling an ostrich45 dashed up the gangway. I say ostrich because the creature, though it ran on two legs, appeared to help its progress by working a pair of short wings; it was a man, however, only his coat, ripped up the back and flapping in two halves above his shoulders, gave him that weird46 and fowl-like appearance. At least, I suppose it was his coat, for it was impossible to make him out distinctly. How he managed to come so straight upon me, at speed and without a stumble over a strange deck, I cannot imagine. He must have been able to see in the dark better than any cat. He overwhelmed me with panting entreaties47 to let him take shelter till morning in our forecastle. Following my strict orders, I refused his request, mildly at first, in a sterner tone as he insisted with growing impudence48.
“For God’s sake let me, matey! Some of ’em are after me — and I’ve got hold of a ticker here.”
“You clear out of this!” I said.
“Don’t be hard on a chap, old man!” he whined49 pitifully.
“Now then, get ashore50 at once. Do you hear?”
Silence. He appeared to cringe, mute, as if words had failed him through grief; then — bang! came a concussion51 and a great flash of light in which he vanished, leaving me prone52 on my back with the most abominable53 black eye that anybody ever got in the faithful discharge of duty. Shadows! Shadows! I hope he escaped the enemies he was fleeing from to live and flourish to this day. But his fist was uncommonly54 hard and his aim miraculously55 true in the dark.
There were other experiences, less painful and more funny for the most part, with one amongst them of a dramatic complexion56; but the greatest experience of them all was Mr. B— — our chief mate himself.
He used to go ashore every night to foregather in some hotel’s parlour with his crony, the mate of the barque Cicero, lying on the other side of the Circular Quay. Late at night I would hear from afar their stumbling footsteps and their voices raised in endless argument. The mate of the Cicero was seeing his friend on board. They would continue their senseless and muddled57 discourse in tones of profound friendship for half an hour or so at the shore end of our gangway, and then I would hear Mr. B—— insisting that he must see the other on board his ship. And away they would go, their voices, still conversing58 with excessive amity59, being heard moving all round the harbour. It happened more than once that they would thus perambulate three or four times the distance, each seeing the other on board his ship out of pure and disinterested60 affection. Then, through sheer weariness, or perhaps in a moment of forgetfulness, they would manage to part from each other somehow, and by-and-by the planks61 of our long gangway would bend and creak under the weight of Mr. B—— coming on board for good at last.
On the rail his burly form would stop and stand swaying.
“Watchman!”
“Sir.”
A pause.
He waited for a moment of steadiness before negotiating the three steps of the inside ladder from rail to deck; and the watchman, taught by experience, would forbear offering help which would be received as an insult at that particular stage of the mate’s return. But many times I trembled for his neck. He was a heavy man.
Then with a rush and a thump62 it would be done. He never had to pick himself up; but it took him a minute or so to pull himself together after the descent.
“Watchman!”
“Sir.”
“Captain aboard?”
“Yes, sir.”
Pause.
“Dog aboard?”
“Yes, sir.”
Pause.
Our dog was a gaunt and unpleasant beast, more like a wolf in poor health than a dog, and I never noticed Mr. B—— at any other time show the slightest interest in the doings of the animal. But that question never failed.
“Let’s have your arm to steady me along.”
I was always prepared for that request. He leaned on me heavily till near enough the cabin-door to catch hold of the handle. Then he would let go my arm at once.
“That’ll do. I can manage now.”
And he could manage. He could manage to find his way into his berth5, light his lamp, get into his bed — ay, and get out of it when I called him at half-past five, the first man on deck, lifting the cup of morning coffee to his lips with a steady hand, ready for duty as though he had virtuously63 slept ten solid hours — a better chief officer than many a man who had never tasted grog in his life. He could manage all that, but could never manage to get on in life.
Only once he failed to seize the cabin-door handle at the first grab. He waited a little, tried again, and again failed. His weight was growing heavier on my arm. He sighed slowly.
“D——n that handle!”
Without letting go his hold of me he turned about, his face lit up bright as day by the full moon.
“I wish she were out at sea,” he growled64 savagely65.
“Yes, sir.”
I felt the need to say something, because he hung on to me as if lost, breathing heavily.
“Ports are no good — ships rot, men go to the devil!”
I kept still, and after a while he repeated with a sigh.
“I wish she were at sea out of this.”
“So do I, sir,” I ventured.
Holding my shoulder, he turned upon me.
“You! What’s that to you where she is? You don’t — drink.”
And even on that night he “managed it” at last. He got hold of the handle. But he did not manage to light his lamp (I don’t think he even tried), though in the morning as usual he was the first on deck, bull-necked, curly-headed, watching the hands turn-to with his sardonic expression and unflinching gaze.
I met him ten years afterwards, casually66, unexpectedly, in the street, on coming out of my consignee67 office. I was not likely to have forgotten him with his “I can manage now.” He recognised me at once, remembered my name, and in what ship I had served under his orders. He looked me over from head to foot.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I am commanding a little barque,” I said, “loading here for Mauritius.” Then, thoughtlessly, I added: “And what are you doing, Mr. B——?”
“I,” he said, looking at me unflinchingly, with his old sardonic grin — “I am looking for something to do.”
I felt I would rather have bitten out my tongue. His jet-black, curly hair had turned iron-gray; he was scrupulously68 neat as ever, but frightfully threadbare. His shiny boots were worn down at heel. But he forgave me, and we drove off together in a hansom to dine on board my ship. He went over her conscientiously69, praised her heartily70, congratulated me on my command with absolute sincerity71. At dinner, as I offered him wine and beer he shook his head, and as I sat looking at him interrogatively, muttered in an undertone:
“I’ve given up all that.”
After dinner we came again on deck. It seemed as though he could not tear himself away from the ship. We were fitting some new lower rigging, and he hung about, approving, suggesting, giving me advice in his old manner. Twice he addressed me as “My boy,” and corrected himself quickly to “Captain.” My mate was about to leave me (to get married), but I concealed72 the fact from Mr. B——. I was afraid he would ask me to give him the berth in some ghastly jocular hint that I could not refuse to take. I was afraid. It would have been impossible. I could not have given orders to Mr. B— — and I am sure he would not have taken them from me very long. He could not have managed that, though he had managed to break himself from drink — too late.
He said good-bye at last. As I watched his burly, bull-necked figure walk away up the street, I wondered with a sinking heart whether he had much more than the price of a night’s lodging73 in his pocket. And I understood that if that very minute I were to call out after him, he would not even turn his head. He, too, is no more than a shadow, but I seem to hear his words spoken on the moonlit deck of the old Duke —:
“Ports are no good — ships rot, men go to the devil!”
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1
shipping
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| n.船运（发货，运输，乘船） | |
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vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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quay
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| n.码头，靠岸处 | |
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berths
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| n.（船、列车等的）卧铺( berth的名词复数 )；（船舶的）停泊位或锚位；差事；船台vt.v.停泊( berth的第三人称单数 )；占铺位 | |
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berth
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| n.卧铺，停泊地，锚位；v.使停泊 | |
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imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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emigrant
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| adj.移居的，移民的；n.移居外国的人，移民 | |
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attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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solaced
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| v.安慰，慰藉( solace的过去分词 ) | |
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inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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13
tinkle
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| vi.叮当作响；n.叮当声 | |
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slumbers
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| 睡眠，安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
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ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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stewards
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| （轮船、飞机等的）乘务员( steward的名词复数 )； （俱乐部、旅馆、工会等的）管理员； （大型活动的）组织者； （私人家中的）管家 | |
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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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pertinacious
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| adj.顽固的 | |
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regularity
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| n.规律性，规则性；匀称，整齐 | |
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abruptness
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| n. 突然，唐突 | |
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recurring
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| adj.往复的，再次发生的 | |
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exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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infamous
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| adj.声名狼藉的，臭名昭著的，邪恶的 | |
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wares
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| n. 货物, 商品 | |
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seamen
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| n.海员 | |
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seaman
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| n.海员，水手，水兵 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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pensive
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| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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dilatory
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| adj.迟缓的，不慌不忙的 | |
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sardonic
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| adj.嘲笑的，冷笑的，讥讽的 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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32
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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murmurs
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| n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 )；低语声；怨言；嘀咕 | |
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stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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battalion
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| n.营；部队；大队(的人) | |
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perches
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| 栖息处( perch的名词复数 )； 栖枝； 高处； 鲈鱼 | |
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bulwarks
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| n.堡垒( bulwark的名词复数 )；保障；支柱；舷墙 | |
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40
smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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42
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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pointedly
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| adv.尖地，明显地 | |
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44
blustering
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| adj.狂风大作的，狂暴的v.外强中干的威吓( bluster的现在分词 )；咆哮；（风）呼啸；狂吹 | |
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ostrich
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| n.鸵鸟 | |
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weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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entreaties
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| n.恳求，乞求( entreaty的名词复数 ) | |
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impudence
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| n.厚颜无耻；冒失；无礼 | |
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49
whined
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| v.哀号( whine的过去式和过去分词 )；哀诉，诉怨 | |
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50
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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51
concussion
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| n.脑震荡；震动 | |
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52
prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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53
abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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54
uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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miraculously
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| ad.奇迹般地 | |
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56
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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57
muddled
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| adj.混乱的；糊涂的；头脑昏昏然的v.弄乱，弄糟( muddle的过去式)；使糊涂；对付，混日子 | |
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conversing
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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amity
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| n.友好关系 | |
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disinterested
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| adj.不关心的，不感兴趣的 | |
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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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thump
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| v.重击，砰然地响；n.重击，重击声 | |
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virtuously
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| 合乎道德地，善良地 | |
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64
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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savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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consignee
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| n.受托者，收件人，代销人；承销人；收货人 | |
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scrupulously
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| adv.一丝不苟地；小心翼翼地，多顾虑地 | |
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69
conscientiously
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| adv.凭良心地；认真地，负责尽职地；老老实实 | |
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70
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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71
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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72
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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