Philip Van Doren Stern (ed) (301 page)

Bligh's
face,
liver-coloured
with
the
sun
and
ravaged
from
inwards by
the
faith
that
consumed
him,
appeared
at
the
head
of
the
quarterdeck
steps.
His
voice
beat
uncontrolledly
out.

"And
in
the
earth
here
is
no
place Of
refuge
to
be
found, Nor
in
the
deep
and
water-course That
passeth
under
ground
—"

2

Bligh's
eyes
were
lidded,
as
if
in
contemplation
of
his
inner
ecstasy. His
head
was
thrown
back,
and
his
brows
worked
up
and
down
tor-mentedly.
His
wide
mouth
remained
open
as
his
hymn
was
suddenly interrupted
on
the
long-drawn
note.
From
somewhere
in
the
shimmering
mists
the
note
was
taken
up,
and
there
drummed
and
rang and
reverberated
through
the
strait
a
windy,
hoarse,
and
dismal
bellow,
alarming
and
sustained.
A
tremor
rang
through
Bligh.
Moving like
a
sightless
man,
he
stumbled
forward
from
the
head
of
the
quarter-deck
steps,
and
Abel
Keeling
was
aware
of
his
gaunt
figure
behind him,
taller
for
the
steepness
of
the
deck.
As
that
vast
empty
sound died
away,
Bligh
laughed
in
his
mania.

"Lord,
hath
the
grave's
wide
mouth
a
tongue
to
praise
Thee?
Lo,
again
----
"

Again
the
cavernous
sound
possessed
the
air,
louder
and
nearer.

Through
it
came
another
sound,
a
slow
throb,
throb—throb,
throb

Again
the
sounds
ceased.

"Even
Leviathan
lifted
up
his
voice
in
praise!"
Bligh
sobbed.

Abel
Keeling
did
not
raise
his
head.
There
had
returned
to
him
the memory
of
that
day
when,
before
the
morning
mists
had
lifted
from the
strait,
he
had
emptied
the
pipkin
of
the
water
that
was
the
allowance
until
night
should
fall
again.
During
that
agony
of
thirst
he
had seen
shapes
and
heard
sounds
with
other
than
his
mortal
eyes
and ears,
and
even
in
the
moments
that
had
alternated
with
his
lightness, when
he
had
known
these
to
be
hallucinations,
they
had
come
again. He
had
heard
the
bells
on
a
Sunday
in
his
own
Kentish
home,
the calling
of
children
at
play,
the
unconcerned
singing
of
men
at
their daily
labour,
and
the
laughter
and
gossip
of
the
women
as
they
had spread
the
linen
on
the
hedge
or
distributed
bread
upon
the
platters. These
voices
had
rung
in
his
brain,
interrupted
now
and
then
by
the groans
of
Bligh
and
of
two
other
men
who
had
been
alive
then.
Some of
the
voices
he
had
heard
had
been
silent
on
earth
this
many
a
long year,
but
Abel
Keeling,
thirst-tortured,
had
heard
them,
even
as
he was
now
hearing
that
vacant
moaning
with
the
intermittent
throbbing that
filled
the
strait
with
alarm.
.
.
.

"Praise
Him,
praise
Him,
praise
Him!"
Bligh
was
calling
deliriously.