After thus overwhelming us with the extent of his information he slipped
out of the cabin. The mate observed regretfully that he “could not
account for that young fellow’s whims.” What prevented him telling us
all about it at once, he wanted to know.
I detained him as he was making a move. For the last two days the crew
had had plenty of hard work, and the night before they had very little
sleep. I felt painfully that I—a stranger—was doing something unusual
when I directed him to let all hands turn in without setting an
anchor-watch. I proposed to keep on deck myself till one o’clock or
thereabouts. I would get the second mate to relieve me at that hour.
“He will turn out the cook and the steward at four,” I concluded, “and
then give you a call. Of course at the slightest sign of any sort of
wind we’ll have the hands up and make a start at once.”
He concealed his astonishment. “Very well, sir.” Outside the cuddy he
put his head in the second mate’s door to inform him of my unheard-of
caprice to take a five hours’ anchor-watch on myself. I heard the other
raise his voice incredulously—“What? The captain himself?” Then a few
more murmurs, a door closed, then another. A few moments later I went on
deck.
My strangeness, which had made me sleepless, had prompted that
unconventional arrangement, as if I had expected in those solitary hours
of the night to get on terms with the ship of which I knew nothing,
manned by men of whom I knew very little more. Fast alongside a wharf,
littered like any ship in port with a tangle of unrelated things, invaded
by unrelated shore people, I had hardly seen her yet properly. Now, as
she lay cleared for sea, the stretch of her maindeck seemed to me very
fine under the stars. Very fine, very roomy for her size, and very
inviting. I descended the poop and paced the waist, my mind picturing to
myself the coming passage through the Malay Archipelago, down the Indian
Ocean, and up the Atlantic. All its phases were familiar enough to me,
every characteristic, all the alternatives which were likely to face me
on the high seas—everything! . . . except the novel responsibility of
command. But I took heart from the reasonable thought that the ship was
like other ships, the men like other men, and that the sea was not likely
to keep any special surprises expressly for my discomfiture.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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