The Rescue | Page 6

moved on earth, on the waters, and
above them in the unbroken lustre of the sky. On the unruffled surface
of the straits the brig floated tranquil and upright as if bolted solidly,
keel to keel, with its own image reflected in the unframed and immense
mirror of the sea. To the south and east the double islands watched
silently the double ship that seemed fixed amongst them forever, a
hopeless captive of the calm, a helpless prisoner of the shallow sea.
Since midday, when the light and capricious airs of these seas had
abandoned the little brig to its lingering fate, her head had swung
slowly to the westward and the end of her slender and polished
jib-boom, projecting boldly beyond the graceful curve of the bow,
pointed at the setting sun, like a spear poised high in the hand of an
enemy. Right aft by the wheel the Malay quartermaster stood with his
bare, brown feet firmly planted on the wheel-grating, and holding the
spokes at right angles, in a solid grasp, as though the ship had been
running before a gale. He stood there perfectly motionless, as if
petrified but ready to tend the helm as soon as fate would permit the
brig to gather way through the oily sea.
The only other human being then visible on the brig's deck was the

person in charge: a white man of low stature, thick-set, with shaven
cheeks, a grizzled moustache, and a face tinted a scarlet hue by the
burning suns and by the sharp salt breezes of the seas. He had thrown
off his light jacket, and clad only in white trousers and a thin cotton
singlet, with his stout arms crossed on his breast--upon which they
showed like two thick lumps of raw flesh--he prowled about from side
to side of the half-poop. On his bare feet he wore a pair of straw
sandals, and his head was protected by an enormous pith hat--once
white but now very dirty--which gave to the whole man the aspect of a
phenomenal and animated mushroom. At times he would interrupt his
uneasy shuffle athwart the break of the poop, and stand motionless with
a vague gaze fixed on the image of the brig in the calm water. He could
also see down there his own head and shoulders leaning out over the
rail and he would stand long, as if interested by his own features, and
mutter vague curses on the calm which lay upon the ship like an
immovable burden, immense and burning.
At last, he sighed profoundly, nerved himself for a great effort, and
making a start away from the rail managed to drag his slippers as far as
the binnacle. There he stopped again, exhausted and bored. From under
the lifted glass panes of the cabin skylight near by came the feeble
chirp of a canary, which appeared to give him some satisfaction. He
listened, smiled faintly muttered "Dicky, poor Dick--" and fell back
into the immense silence of the world. His eyes closed, his head hung
low over the hot brass of the binnacle top. Suddenly he stood up with a
jerk and said sharply in a hoarse voice:
"You've been sleeping--you. Shift the helm. She has got stern way on
her."
The Malay, without the least flinch of feature or pose, as if he had been
an inanimate object called suddenly into life by some hidden magic of
the words, spun the wheel rapidly, letting the spokes pass through his
hands; and when the motion had stopped with a grinding noise, caught
hold again and held on grimly. After a while, however, he turned his
head slowly over his shoulder, glanced at the sea, and said in an
obstinate tone:

"No catch wind--no get way."
"No catch--no catch--that's all you know about it," growled the
red-faced seaman. "By and by catch Ali--" he went on with sudden
condescension. "By and by catch, and then the helm will be the right
way. See?"
The stolid seacannie appeared to see, and for that matter to hear,
nothing. The white man looked at the impassive Malay with disgust,
then glanced around the horizon--then again at the helmsman and
ordered curtly:
"Shift the helm back again. Don't you feel the air from aft? You are like
a dummy standing there."
The Malay revolved the spokes again with disdainful obedience, and
the red-faced man was moving forward grunting to himself, when
through the open skylight the hail "On deck there!" arrested him short,
attentive, and with a sudden change to amiability in the expression of
his face.
"Yes, sir," he said, bending his ear toward the opening. "What's the
matter up there?" asked a deep voice from below.
The red-faced man in a tone of surprise said:
"Sir?"
"I hear that