The Tale of Mr. Peter Brown - Chelsea Justice | Page 9

hard circle, but I knew that,
although invisible, it was still there, and now in addition I had a black
vault over me, and it grew cold, and a loneliness closed down on me
such as I had not experienced while I had the sun and his warmth for
companions. I dared not contemplate the prospect of many such days
and nights; I simply dared not let myself think. I tried to sleep, but was

too cold. A breeze sprang up at about midnight, and the buoy rocked
more noticeably; again, I dared not picture my discomfort should the
weather change. I called it discomfort; I didn't know then, I hadn't yet
begun to learn.
"Two days passed like that. Two whole days. Have you ever tried to
spend two days, or even one day, or even twelve hours, doing
absolutely and literally nothing? If not, try it, especially if you happen
to be an active man. I could only sit there, my knees drawn up and my
hands either clasped round my knees or hanging between them. I was
confronted all the time by the thought of what the end was to be.
Starvation and death from thirst? I could see very little other prospect.
For the first day I had been comparatively sanguine that a ship would
come along, but hourly this hope dwindled, till there was no real hope
left, but only the old obscure and unreasoning human obstinacy. So on
the second day I suffered from my thoughts; I hadn't, as yet, undergone
any real physical suffering.
"The morning of the third day broke with dark clouds over a grey sea.
It was indescribably dreary. All that water, all that mass of grey water!
I huddled my knees up against my chest for warmth. A shower fell, and
I minded that because it meant more water, not only because it chilled
me; don't think I exaggerate: the quantity and the monotony of so much
water was getting on my nerves. They were in a pretty bad state by then,
so bad that the dread of ultimate madness had already crossed my mind.
I was weakened, too, by insufficient food, for I knew I must economise
my resources. Once or twice steamers passed, a very long way off. I
shouted till my throat was hoarse, but quite in vain. Each time they
passed out of sight, I sobbed. Forgive me.
"The wind held, driving the masses of low clouds across the sky, and
chopping the sea into little waves, white-topped amongst the grey,
which tumbled and tossed the buoy till I was sickened and wearied. I
fancied that the pulp of my brain was being shaken to and fro inside my
head; it felt like that. I prayed for the wind to go down, but it only
gained in strength. I felt I should go mad; I was so impotent, you see.
And the bell clanged above my head--I was condemned to unceasing

movement and unceasing noise."
He stared round him with tormented eyes, as though afraid that the
whole restaurant would begin rocking and vibrating.
"And there were other things, ridiculous and humiliating," he resumed,
"that robbed me even of the small consolation of tragedy. How can I
tell you? I shall lose all dignity in your eyes--if indeed I ever had any to
lose--as I lost it in my own. The terrible sickness, you understand....
That, and the din of the bell, and being flung up and down, backwards
and forwards. No rest, not for a moment. I prayed, I tried to fight my
way out of the buoy, between the bars, to throw myself into the sea.
The sea was rising visibly, and the spray of the waves broke over me,
drenching me; the salt dried upon my face, stiffening my skin. There
were moments when I thought I could endure the rest, if I might have a
respite from the movement; other moments, if I might have a respite
from the sickness; and yet others, if I might have a respite from the
clang of the bell. In the intervals of the sickness, with such strength as
remained to me, I tore strips from my soaking shirt and tried to bind up
the clappers; it muffled the noise a little, but not much. I wept from
weariness and despair.
"It pursues me," he said, again putting his head between his hands and
shaking it with the same tired mournfulness; "at nights I think that my
bed is flung up and down, and when I spring out the room reels round
me as though I were drunk. There was no escape. It was no use trying
to bend the bars of the cage, or to pull up the planks of the bottom. And
the sickness, the