“We aren’t indeed! There’s nothing of a boy’s tale in this. But there’s
nothing else for it. I want no more. You don’t suppose I am afraid of
what can be done to me? Prison or gallows or whatever they may please.
But you don’t see me coming back to explain such things to an old fellow
in a wig and twelve respectable tradesmen, do you? What can they know
whether I am guilty or not--or of _what_ I am guilty, either? That’s my
affair. What does the Bible say? ‘Driven off the face of the earth.’
Very well, I am off the face of the earth now. As I came at night so I
shall go.”
“Impossible!” I murmured. “You can’t.”
“Can’t?... Not naked like a soul on the Day of Judgment. I shall
freeze on to this sleeping suit. The Last Day is not yet--and... you
have understood thoroughly. Didn’t you?”
I felt suddenly ashamed of myself. I may say truly that I
understood--and my hesitation in letting that man swim away from my
ship’s side had been a mere sham sentiment, a sort of cowardice.
“It can’t be done now till next night,” I breathed out. “The ship is on
the off-shore tack and the wind may fail us.”
“As long as I know that you understand,” he whispered. “But of course
you do. It’s a great satisfaction to have got somebody to understand.
You seem to have been there on purpose.” And in the same whisper, as if
we two whenever we talked had to say things to each other which were not
fit for the world to hear, he added, “It’s very wonderful.”
We remained side by side talking in our secret way--but sometimes
silent or just exchanging a whispered word or two at long intervals. And
as usual he stared through the port. A breath of wind came now and again
into our faces. The ship might have been moored in dock, so gently and
on an even keel she slipped through the water, that did not murmur even
at our passage, shadowy and silent like a phantom sea.
At midnight I went on deck, and to my mate’s great surprise put the
ship round on the other tack. His terrible whiskers flitted round me
in silent criticism. I certainly should not have done it if it had
been only a question of getting out of that sleepy gulf as quickly as
possible. I believe he told the second mate, who relieved him, that it
was a great want of judgment. The other only yawned. That intolerable
cub shuffled about so sleepily and lolled against the rails in such a
slack, improper fashion that I came down on him sharply.
“Aren’t you properly awake yet?”
“Yes, sir! I am awake.”
“Well, then, be good enough to hold yourself as if you were. And keep
a lookout. If there’s any current we’ll be closing with some islands
before daylight.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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