Essays; Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894 -- Travel
The ship moved over the uneven sea with a gentle and cradling movement.
The ponderous, organic labours of the engine in her bowels occupied the
mind, and prepared it for slumber. From time to time a heavier lurch
would disturb me as I lay, and recall me to the obscure borders of
consciousness; or I heard, as it were through a veil, the clear note of
the clapper on the brass and the beautiful sea-cry, ‘All’s well!’ I know
nothing, whether for poetry or music, that can surpass the effect of
these two syllables in the darkness of a night at sea.
The day dawned fairly enough, and during the early part we had some
pleasant hours to improve acquaintance in the open air; but towards
nightfall the wind freshened, the rain began to fall, and the sea rose so
high that it was difficult to keep ones footing on the deck. I have
spoken of our concerts. We were indeed a musical ship’s company, and
cheered our way into exile with the fiddle, the accordion, and the songs
of all nations. Good, bad, or indifferent—Scottish, English, Irish,
Russian, German or Norse,—the songs were received with generous applause.
Once or twice, a recitation, very spiritedly rendered in a powerful
Scottish accent, varied the proceedings; and once we sought in vain to
dance a quadrille, eight men of us together, to the music of the violin.
The performers were all humorous, frisky fellows, who loved to cut capers
in private life; but as soon as they were arranged for the dance, they
conducted themselves like so many mutes at a funeral. I have never seen
decorum pushed so far; and as this was not expected, the quadrille was
soon whistled down, and the dancers departed under a cloud. Eight
Frenchmen, even eight Englishmen from another rank of society, would have
dared to make some fun for themselves and the spectators; but the working
man, when sober, takes an extreme and even melancholy view of personal
deportment. A fifth-form schoolboy is not more careful of dignity. He
dares not be comical; his fun must escape from him unprepared, and above
all, it must be unaccompanied by any physical demonstration. I like his
society under most circumstances, but let me never again join with him in
public gambols.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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