As she lay at anchor in Vancouver harbour, well up toward the second narrows, there were several peculiar5 features about her—peculiar, that is, to the trained seaman's eye.
She was bound for sea; yet she was altogether too late to get the spring catch off the Siberian coast; and if she went up into the Arctic to fill her hogsheads, she would certainly be ice-bound that winter, and few whalers were taking chances on being ice-bound those days! Then her crew had been all aboard for two days, and the majority of them were Kanakas—both facts being unusual. Why the Pelican was still hanging about the harbour no one could say.
This old whaler had none too good a reputation, even among her kind; but this was chiefly because of her officers. Manuel Mendez, the black Cape6 Verde mate, was a strapping7 big man with a thin eagle-like profile exactly like that of the mummy of Rameses—a great hooked nose, and air of gentle refinement8, and delicate lips. Manuel Mendez played the flute9 beautifully and was said to be a killer10 of men.
The second officer was an old man, forty years a whaler. Mr. Leman wore a fringe of white hair and whisker, stood six feet two and was muscled like a bull moose; they said he had been known to take a man's arm in his two hands and break it like a rotten stick. His face was heavy and flat, the eyes small and bright and deeply set. His nose had been crushed and had a crooked11 twist
One of the boat-steerers, Ericksen, was gone from the ship. The other, like the mate, was a Cape Verde man; his name was a Portuguese12 one, but he was called Corny. The brigantine had no cooper, for a wonder; her cook, like Ericksen, was absent.
The steward14 was a vicious little Cockney pickpocket15 who wanted to get out of Canada before the draught16 caught him; the cabin-boy was a green farmer-lad named Jerry, a moon-faced boy who had run off the farm a month previously17. There was no one else aft.
In the forecastle were fifteen men. Ten of these were Kanakas—merry brown men who spoke18 their own guttural tongue and some broken English, and like all of their kind were noble seamen19. The other five were broken-down white men, scum of the city, who were kept drunk and under hatches until the Pelican should get to sea.
The ship was pervaded20 by a restless air—that is, in the after cabins. Up forward the Kanakas sang and worked light-heartedly, and the five bums21 snored in drunken repose22. But aft all was different. Restrained excitement, an air of suspense23, much whispering and wild speculating; thus the atmosphere seemed electrically charged.
Everyone knew that there was an invalid24 down below—a man in a wheeled chair, a man who could not speak a single word or move a finger. Jerry affirmed he could eat, and could use his ears, but little more, as his eyes also were somewhat affected25. Then, the skipper's wife was aboard for the cruise; and when she came to the deck, men smartened up—not because they loved her, but because they feared and hated her. She was known to all aboard as the Missus—that was her title.
It was five in the afternoon. Two bells had just been struck on the brass26 ship's bell abaft27 the mizzenmast when the Missus appeared on the quarter-deck. Sea-watches had been set, and Mr. Leman had the deck, Mrs. Pontifex was a strapping big woman with iron-grey hair and a jaw28 like rock; her unchanging expression was indomitable and not too sweet.
"No sign of that boat, Mr. Leman?" she demanded in a raucous29 voice which held a distinct Yankee twang.
"No, ma'am," meekly30 responded the second officer. "Train must ha' been late. Them trains often is, I'm told."
The Missus espied31 a Kanaka sprawled32 in the waist; half-leaning against the try-works, he was asleep in the westerning sun. She strode to him and aroused him with a sturdy kick in the ribs33.
"Do your sleepin' daown below, ye scouse!" she roared. "This is no berth-deck. Yeou, Corny! Who went in Mr. Mendez' boat when he took the Cap'n ashore34?"
"Six of the Kanakas, ma'am," responded the black boat-steerer.
"Hm! Then they'll not run off. All ready for sea, Mr. Leman?"
"All ready, ma'am."
"The minute yeou sight that boat, break aout the signal for the tug13. When the boat comes alongside, yeou tell the cap'n that we've been ordered to shift anchorage. That'll keep the girl and her fool husband quiet, I reckon!"
"Yes, ma'am. And then?"
"Cast off the tug aoutside the Lion's Gate an' lay a course for Unalaska."
"But, ma'am—how about Frenchy? We ain't got no cook 'cept him!" Mr. Leman rubbed his fringe of whiskers in evident perturbation over putting to sea without a cook. "You know, ma'am, Boatswain Joe wired about him gettin' left behind."
"Never mind 'baout Dumont." Mrs. Pontifex's lips set in a grim line. "He's got his orders, and I wired money to him. He'll go to Unalaska by steamer and wait there until we put in."
"And who'll do the cookin' meantime?"
Now, if there was one thing in particular for which Tom Dennis was not in the least prepared, it was for the reception which awaited him at Vancouver. He had anticipated a seaman's cottage in the suburbs, a protracted37 stay at an hotel or boarding-house, and so forth38.
Instead of this, upon alighting from the train he found himself and Florence shaking hands with Captain Pontifex to whom Ericksen introduced them with much delight. The "Skipper" was not, to the suspicious eye of Dennis, prepossessing in appearance. His curled black moustache, his swarthy cavernous features, his alert dark eyes, were all well enough; but the moustache concealed39 a cruel and bitter mouth; the features were high-boned and sharp; and the eyes were of the heavy-lidded type—the eyes of a master of men, the eyes of a Hindenburg.
First impressions were almost effaced40, however, by the polished cordiality of Pontifex. He was a man of education, of intense personality, and he was at some pains to make himself agreeable. Florence's first question was for her father.
"We have taken him aboard the Pelican, Mrs. Dennis; he seemed to miss the salt air, and the lease on our cottage was up," responded Pontifex. "This way, please—I have a taxicab waiting! I have a cabin all ready for you aboard ship, and Mrs. Pontifex promised to have a bang-up dinner at six sharp; so we've just time to make the ship. If you'll let me have your trunk-checks, Mr. Dennis——"
"But Captain, we can't impose upon your hospitality!" interrupted Tom Dennis. "It's mighty41 good of you, but——"
"Nonsense, my dear chap!" Pontifex laughed and seized his arm, impelling42 him, toward the cab. "It's a great pleasure, I assure you! Of course you young married folks will be glad of solitude43 after you get settled down with the old cap'n, but—I suppose Ericksen told you the business we had in hand?"
"Ericksen told us nothing," returned Dennis.
"Good for the Boatswain!" Pontifex laughed again. "I warned him to keep a close tongue. Well, suppose we pass up business for to-night, and in the morning we'll get together, eh? The directors of the company will be all aboard then; you'll be our guests for a time."
"What company?" interjected Florence.
"Ah, that's the secret!" Pontifex bowed her into the cab, his white teeth showing in a smile. "A surprise for you, madam! It was odd, the way I happened to pick up your father—poor man, stuck away in a sailor's home, unable to tell so much as his name! You know, we were always pretty good friends, Miles and I."
Tom Dennis found his suspicions fading, and his first dislike of Pontifex was lulled44 to rest by the man's vivid personality. Pontifex had character, plenty of it, and like all strong men could make himself greatly liked or greatly hated almost at will. He appeared to be a good-humoured, masterly sort of man, heartily45 loving a joke, and radiating an air of alert and genial46 manliness47. Dennis adjudged him a good friend but a bad enemy.
"We hope that the shock of seeing you, Mrs. Dennis, will restore your father's power of speech," went on Pontifex. "For that reason we've not told him——"
"But how can he be so paralysed?" demanded Florence quickly. "Can he hear, and not speak? Why——"
"My dear young lady, the best doctors in Vancouver can't account for it!" Pontifex shook his head with an air of paternal48 solicitude49. "It's one of the freak cases of paralysis50; but it's not at all an unusual case. He can move his eyelids51 slightly, his eyes perfectly52; he can eat and drink fairly well; yet his vocal53 cords are entirely54 paralysed."
Without opportunity for further converse55 they reached the water-front, and Captain Pontifex led the way toward the landing-stage. Tom Dennis had his own grip, a huge affair as large as a small trunk, and two bags belonging to Florence; of these latter the skipper had assumed charge.
Upon reaching the boat with its six merry Kanaka rowers, Manuel Mendez was introduced by Pontifex. Mendez made up for his broken English by a wide grin, and assisted Florence down into the stern-sheets of the boat, beside the Skipper, who took charge of the long steering-oar. Dennis climbed into the bow with Mendez.
After a short wait Ericksen appeared, a truckman helping56 him bear the one trunk which Florence had brought; this was stowed in the boat. Ericksen shook hands with Mendez, flinging a laughing greeting to the men; the Skipper, standing57, flung an impatient word at Ericksen, and the latter turned to Dennis.
"I didn't see nothin' of that square suitcase, Mr. Dennis—the one you took out o' that other compartment58."
Tom Dennis laughed unconcernedly. "Oh, that! There was nothing in it I wanted, Boatswain Joe; I gave it to the porter the first night out."
Ericksen dropped his pipe to the wharf59 and stooped for it, with a rumbling60 of low words which did not sound like blessings61. Captain Pontifex changed countenance62, then snapped a command at the boat steerer. His voice was suddenly metallic63, piercing.
Boatswain Joe, looking very much like a dog who is about to receive a sound thrashing, jumped down into the boat. The bowman shoved off. The oars65 flashed. The whaleboat swung out into the estuary66.
Tom Dennis entertained an uneasy feeling that he had been bodily abducted—and laughed at himself for a simpleton. Mendez pointed67 out the Pelican as they approached her, and from the other direction a tug was crawling up to the brigantine. As the boat drew under the brown side of the ship, a flat white-whiskered face appeared above the ladder; Mendez informed Dennis that this was the second mate, Mr. Leman.
"Ahoy, Cap'n!" called Leman in unexpectedly stentorian68 tones. "We've been ordered to shift our anchorage, sir—port authorities. Tug comin' now!"
"Very well, Mr. Leman," returned Pontifex briskly. "Pass a line from the forward bitts and stand ready to heave up the hook. Mr. Mendez, will you attend to this luggage? All ready, Miss—pardon, Mrs. Dennis! May I assist you up the ladder?"
If Florence entertained any shrinking from that steep approach, she concealed it well, and with the aid of Pontifex was soon on the deck above being introduced to the Missus. Tom Dennis followed. The Missus gave him a mighty hand-grip, then turned to Florence.
"Supper's all ready," announced Mrs. Pontifex. "I suppose, poor dear, yeou'd sooner see your poor father first? Then come with me—do. Cap'n, yeou make that man Ericksen wash his face and hands before he sits daown to table! And put a clean shirt on him."
Boatswain Joe was just then coming up the side, and heard the words.
"You hear?" snapped Pontifex.
Mrs. Pontifex departed with Florence, and Tom Dennis joined them at a glance from the latter. All three passed down the after companion.
In a wheeled chair set beside the stern windows of the cabin sat Miles Hathaway. He was not as Tom Dennis had seen him pictured, for his rocky and indomitable face was half-concealed by a growth of shaggy grey beard. His hair, too, had grown long and was streaked70 with grey. He sat motionless, hands in lap. His eyes, wide glowing brown eyes like those of Florence, were fastened upon the three who entered.
The meeting was pitiful almost to tragedy. With a wordless cry Florence ran to her father and knelt beside him, clasping him in her arms, her head against his broad and massive chest. The man sat there unstirring, helpless. His eyes seemed to lack the swift play of cheek-muscles and lids which gives expression; yet, as those eyes dwelt upon the upturned face of Florence, they seemed to dilate71 with incredulous horror.
"We've brought your daughter, Cap'n Hathaway," announced Mrs. Pontifex stridently, "and her husband, Mr. Dennis."
The eyes of the helpless man turned to Dennis and rested upon his gaze. The mouth of Miles Hathaway opened; he tried terribly and frightfully to stir himself, to break the invisible bonds which held him tied down—and he failed. He could not speak or move. Yet his eyes, fastened upon the face of Dennis, seemed filled with some awful and momentous72 message.
"I'm so glad we've found you, Father dear!" said Florence softly, tears on her cheeks. "Tom and I are going to take care of you always, and if only Mother were here—she never knew that you were alive."
Again the mouth of Miles Hathaway opened spasmodically, but he could not speak His eyes were horrible to see, so dumbly eloquent73 were they of the useless will of the man. Tom Dennis could not bear the scene further, and touched the arm of Mrs. Pontifex.
"Leave them—for a little while."
The woman nodded. They left father and daughter together. The Missus led the way to the mess-cabin, where they found Pontifex opening a bottle of wine. Up above, feet were trampling74 the deck, and the brig was heeling a trifle.
"A real dinner!" exclaimed Pontifex heartily. "A real wedding dinner, eh? Mr. Leman has the deck, my dear, and he's called all hands; so for once we'll have a quiet family meal, eh? Where's Mrs. Dennis? Oh, with her father, of course. A sad meeting for her!"
"Yes. But for you, Captain Pontifex, there would have been none at all," said Dennis warmly. "We owe you a good deal——"
"There, there, don't mention it!" Pontifex gave his curled mustache a twirl, and his white teeth flashed out in a smile. "We'll have our pay, never fear, the Missus and I. Talk it over in the morning, eh? I suppose you're pretty familiar with your Dumas, Mr. Dennis? Well, well—a bother having to change our anchorage this way, but the port authorities know their business these war-times, of course. Well, sit down."
The dinner was excellent—although, owing to the motion of the ship, the dishes joggled more than a little. Captain Pontifex made light of it, explaining that they might not reach their new anchorage until midnight.
With the coffee was served a liqueur, the most peculiar and biting Tom Dennis had ever tasted. The skipper stated that it was a queer distillation75 made from flour and molasses by a Siberian Eskimo—quite a rarity. Perhaps it was this liqueur which made Tom Dennis most unaccountably sleepy; indeed, he could hardly stumble off to the mate's cabin which had been assigned him and Florence. And as he retired76, he could faintly hear the roaring bellow77 of Boatswain Joe, somewhere on deck:
"She was waiting for a fair wind to get under way,
A long time ago!"
The last vague thought of Tom Dennis was a mental query78 as to why Captain Pontifex had asked him if he were familiar with Dumas. He was to remember it later, also.
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1
pelican
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| n.鹈鹕，伽蓝鸟 | |
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funnels
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| 漏斗( funnel的名词复数 )； （轮船，火车等的）烟囱 | |
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reeked
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| v.发出浓烈的臭气( reek的过去式和过去分词 )；散发臭气；发出难闻的气味 (of sth)；明显带有（令人不快或生疑的跡象） | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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strapping
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| adj. 魁伟的, 身材高大健壮的 n. 皮绳或皮带的材料, 裹伤胶带, 皮鞭 动词strap的现在分词形式 | |
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refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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flute
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| n.长笛；v.吹笛 | |
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killer
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| n.杀人者，杀人犯，杀手，屠杀者 | |
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crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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Portuguese
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| n.葡萄牙人；葡萄牙语 | |
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tug
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| v.用力拖(或拉)；苦干；n.拖；苦干；拖船 | |
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steward
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| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
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pickpocket
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| n.扒手；v.扒窃 | |
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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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previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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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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seamen
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| n.海员 | |
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pervaded
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bums
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| n. 游荡者，流浪汉，懒鬼，闹饮，屁股 adj. 没有价值的，不灵光的，不合理的 vt. 令人失望，乞讨 vi. 混日子，以乞讨为生 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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abaft
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| prep.在…之后；adv.在船尾，向船尾 | |
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jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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raucous
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| adj.(声音)沙哑的，粗糙的 | |
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meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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espied
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| v.看到( espy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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sprawled
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| v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词)；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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hawser
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| n.大缆；大索 | |
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bawling
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| v.大叫，大喊( bawl的现在分词 )；放声大哭；大声叫出；叫卖（货物） | |
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protracted
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| adj.拖延的；延长的v.拖延“protract”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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effaced
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| v.擦掉( efface的过去式和过去分词 )；抹去；超越；使黯然失色 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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impelling
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| adj.迫使性的，强有力的v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的现在分词 ) | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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lulled
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| vt.使镇静，使安静（lull的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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manliness
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| 刚毅 | |
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paternal
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| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
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solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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paralysis
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| n.麻痹(症)；瘫痪(症) | |
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51
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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vocal
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| adj.直言不讳的；嗓音的；n.[pl.]声乐节目 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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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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compartment
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| n.卧车包房，隔间；分隔的空间 | |
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wharf
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| n.码头，停泊处 | |
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rumbling
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| n. 隆隆声, 辘辘声 adj. 隆隆响的 动词rumble的现在分词 | |
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blessings
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| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
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62
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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dally
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| v.荒废(时日)，调情 | |
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65
oars
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| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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66
estuary
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| n.河口，江口 | |
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67
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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68
stentorian
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| adj.大声的，响亮的 | |
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69
freckled
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| adj.雀斑；斑点；晒斑；（使）生雀斑v.雀斑，斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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70
streaked
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| adj.有条斑纹的，不安的v.快速移动( streak的过去式和过去分词 )；使布满条纹 | |
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71
dilate
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| vt.使膨胀，使扩大 | |
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72
momentous
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| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
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73
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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74
trampling
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| 踩( trample的现在分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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75
distillation
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| n.蒸馏，蒸馏法 | |
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76
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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bellow
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| v.吼叫，怒吼；大声发出，大声喝道 | |
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78
query
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| n.疑问，问号，质问；vt.询问，表示怀疑 | |
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