Hitherto, credulous good-nature had been too ready to furnish excuses
for reasonable fears. Why was the Spaniard, so superfluously
punctilious at times, now heedless of common propriety in not
accompanying to the side his departing guest? Did indisposition forbid?
Indisposition had not forbidden more irksome exertion that day. His
last equivocal demeanor recurred. He had risen to his feet, grasped his
guest’s hand, motioned toward his hat; then, in an instant, all was
eclipsed in sinister muteness and gloom. Did this imply one brief,
repentant relenting at the final moment, from some iniquitous plot,
followed by remorseless return to it? His last glance seemed to express
a calamitous, yet acquiescent farewell to Captain Delano forever. Why
decline the invitation to visit the sealer that evening? Or was the
Spaniard less hardened than the Jew, who refrained not from supping at
the board of him whom the same night he meant to betray? What imported
all those day-long enigmas and contradictions, except they were
intended to mystify, preliminary to some stealthy blow? Atufal, the
pretended rebel, but punctual shadow, that moment lurked by the
threshold without. He seemed a sentry, and more. Who, by his own
confession, had stationed him there? Was the negro now lying in wait?
The Spaniard behind—his creature before: to rush from darkness to light
was the involuntary choice.
The next moment, with clenched jaw and hand, he passed Atufal, and
stood unharmed in the light. As he saw his trim ship lying peacefully
at anchor, and almost within ordinary call; as he saw his household
boat, with familiar faces in it, patiently rising and falling, on the
short waves by the San Dominick’s side; and then, glancing about the
decks where he stood, saw the oakum-pickers still gravely plying their
fingers; and heard the low, buzzing whistle and industrious hum of the
hatchet-polishers, still bestirring themselves over their endless
occupation; and more than all, as he saw the benign aspect of nature,
taking her innocent repose in the evening; the screened sun in the
quiet camp of the west shining out like the mild light from Abraham’s
tent; as charmed eye and ear took in all these, with the chained figure
of the black, clenched jaw and hand relaxed. Once again he smiled at
the phantoms which had mocked him, and felt something like a tinge of
remorse, that, by harboring them even for a moment, he should, by
implication, have betrayed an atheist doubt of the ever-watchful
Providence above.
There was a few minutes’ delay, while, in obedience to his orders, the
boat was being hooked along to the gangway. During this interval, a
sort of saddened satisfaction stole over Captain Delano, at thinking of
the kindly offices he had that day discharged for a stranger. Ah,
thought he, after good actions one’s conscience is never ungrateful,
however much so the benefited party may be.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account