Manners and customs -- Fiction; Short stories, English
It is curious that no man knows how the rods were straightened. The
crew of the _Haliotis_ remember that week very dimly, as a fever
patient remembers the delirium of a long night. There were fires
everywhere, they say; the whole ship was one consuming furnace, and the
hammers were never still. Now, there could not have been more than one
fire at the most, for Mr. Wardrop distinctly recalls that no
straightening was done except under his own eye. They remember, too,
that for many years voices gave orders which they obeyed with their
bodies, but their minds were abroad on all the seas. It seems to them
that they stood through days and nights slowly sliding a bar backwards
and forwards through a white glow that was part of the ship. They
remember an intolerable noise in their burning heads from the walls of
the stoke-hole, and they remember being savagely beaten by men whose
eyes seemed asleep. When their shift was over they would draw straight
lines in the air, anxiously and repeatedly, and would question one
another in their sleep, crying, “Is she straight?”
At last—they do not remember whether this was by day or by night—Mr.
Wardrop began to dance clumsily, and wept the while; and they too
danced and wept, and went to sleep twitching all over; and when they
woke, men said that the rods were straightened, and no one did any work
for two days, but lay on the decks and ate fruit. Mr. Wardrop would go
below from time to time, and pat the two rods where they lay, and they
heard him singing hymns.
Then his trouble of mind went from him, and at the end of the third
day’s idleness he made a drawing in chalk upon the deck, with letters
of the alphabet at the angles. He pointed out that, though the
piston-rod was more or less straight, the piston-rod cross-head—the
thing that had been jammed sideways in the guides—had been badly
strained, and had cracked the lower end of the piston-rod. He was going
to forge and shrink a wrought-iron collar on the neck of the piston-rod
where it joined the cross-head, and from the collar he would bolt a
Y-shaped piece of iron whose lower arms should be bolted into the
cross-head. If anything more were needed, they could use up the last of
the boiler-plate.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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