The seamen were glad to get back into the alleyway. Secretly each of
them thought that at the last moment he could rush out on deck--and
that was a comfort. There is something horribly repugnant in the idea
of being drowned under a deck. Now they had done with the Chinamen, they
again became conscious of the ship's position.
Jukes on coming out of the alleyway found himself up to the neck in
the noisy water. He gained the bridge, and discovered he could detect
obscure shapes as if his sight had become preternaturally acute. He saw
faint outlines. They recalled not the familiar aspect of the Nan-Shan,
but something remembered--an old dismantled steamer he had seen years
ago rotting on a mudbank. She recalled that wreck.
There was no wind, not a breath, except the faint currents created by
the lurches of the ship. The smoke tossed out of the funnel was settling
down upon her deck. He breathed it as he passed forward. He felt the
deliberate throb of the engines, and heard small sounds that seemed to
have survived the great uproar: the knocking of broken fittings, the
rapid tumbling of some piece of wreckage on the bridge. He perceived
dimly the squat shape of his captain holding on to a twisted
bridge-rail, motionless and swaying as if rooted to the planks. The
unexpected stillness of the air oppressed Jukes.
“We have done it, sir,” he gasped.
“Thought you would,” said Captain MacWhirr.
“Did you?” murmured Jukes to himself.
“Wind fell all at once,” went on the Captain.
Jukes burst out: “If you think it was an easy job--”
But his captain, clinging to the rail, paid no attention. “According to
the books the worst is not over yet.”
“If most of them hadn't been half dead with seasickness and fright, not
one of us would have come out of that 'tween-deck alive,” said Jukes.
“Had to do what's fair by them,” mumbled MacWhirr, stolidly. “You don't
find everything in books.”
“Why, I believe they would have risen on us if I hadn't ordered the
hands out of that pretty quick,” continued Jukes with warmth.
After the whisper of their shouts, their ordinary tones, so distinct,
rang out very loud to their ears in the amazing stillness of the air. It
seemed to them they were talking in a dark and echoing vault.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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