To the Ends of the Earth (17 page)

“I will indulge you in this, Captain Anderson.”

“You will carry out my orders.”

I turned away and withdrew silently. Directly I was out of his presence I found my body bathed in perspiration yet strangely cold, though my face, by some contrast, was as strangely hot. I discovered in myself a deep
unwillingness
to meet any eye, any face. As for my own eyes—I was weeping! I wish I could say they were tears of manly
wrath but the truth is they were tears of shame. On shore a man is punished at the last by the Crown. At sea the man is punished by the captain who is visibly present as the Crown is not. At sea a person's manhood suffers. It is a kind of contest—is that not strange? So that men—but I wander in my narrative. Suffice it to say that I found, nay, groped my way back to the neighbourhood of my cabin. When my eyes had cleared and I had come to myself a little I searched for the captain's written Orders. They were indeed displayed on a wall near the cabins! Now I did remember too that during the convulsions of my
sickness
Phillips had talked to me about
Orders
and even
the captain's Orders
; but only those who have suffered as I can understand how slight an impression the words had made on my fainting spirits. But here they were. It was unfortunate, to say the least. I had, by the most severe standards, been remiss. The Orders were displayed in a case. The glass was somewhat blurred on the inside by a condensation of atmospheric water. But I was able to read the writing, the material part of which I copy here.

I saw now what a hideous situation I was in. The officer of the watch, I reasoned, must have been the first lieutenant, who had been with the captain, and at my
second
attempt the lieutenant who had stood by the men at the wheel. My fault was quite inadvertent but none the less real. Even though the manner of Captain Anderson to me had not been and perhaps never would be that of one gentleman to another, yet some form of apology was due to him and through him to those other officers whom I might have
hindered in the execution of their duty. Then too,
forbearance
must be in the very nature of my calling. I
therefore
easily and quickly committed the essential words to memory and returned at once to the raised decks which are included in the seaman's term “Quarterdeck”. The wind was increased somewhat. Captain Anderson paced up and down the side, Lieutenant Summers talked to another lieutenant by the wheel, where two of the ship's people guided our huge vessel creaming over the billows. Mr Summers pointed to some rope or other in the vast complication of the rigging. A young gentleman who stood behind the lieutenants touched his hat and skipped nimbly down the stairs by which I had ascended. I approached the captain's back and waited for him to turn.

Captain Anderson walked through me!

I could almost wish that he had in truth done so—yet the hyperbole is not inapt. He must have been very deep in thought. He struck me on the shoulder with his
swinging
arm and then his chest struck me in the face so that I went reeling and ended by measuring my length on the white-scrubbed planking of the deck!

I got my breath back with difficulty. My head was resounding from a concussive encounter with the wood. Indeed, for a moment it appeared that not one but two captains were staring down at me. It was some time before I realized that I was being addressed.

“Get up, sir! Get up at once! Is there no end to your impertinent folly?”

I was scrabbling on the deck for my hat and wig. I had little enough breath for a rejoinder.

“Captain Anderson—you asked me—”

“I asked nothing of you, sir. I gave you an order.”

“My apology—”

“I did not ask for an apology. We are not on land but at sea. Your apology is a matter of indifference to me—”

“Nevertheless—”

There was, I thought, and indeed was frighted by the thought, a kind of stare in his eyes, a suffusion of blood in all his countenance that made me believe he might well assault me physically. One of his fists was raised and I own that I crouched away a few steps without replying. But then he struck the fist into the other palm.

“Am I to be outfaced again and again on my own deck by every ignorant landsman who cares to walk there? Am I? Tell me, sir!”

“My apology—was intended—”

“I am more concerned with your person, sir, which is more apparent to me than your mind and which has formed the habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time—repeat your lesson, sir!”

My face felt swollen. It must have been as
deeply suffused
as his. I perspired more and more freely. My head still rang. The lieutenants were studiously and
carefully
examining the horizon. The two seamen at the wheel might have been cast in bronze. I believe I gave a
shuddering
sob. The words I had learned so recently and easily went clean out of my head. I could see but dimly through my tears. The captain grumbled, perhaps a thought—indeed I hope so—a thought less fiercely.

“Come, sir. Repeat your lesson!”

“A period for recollection. A period—”

“Very well. Come back when you can do it. Do you understand?”

I must have made some reply, for he concluded the interview with his hectoring roar.

“Well, sir—what are you waiting for?”

I did not so much go to my cabin as flee to it. As I approached the second flight of stairs I saw Mr Talbot and the two young gentlemen he had with him—three more witnesses to my humiliation!—hurry out of sight
into the lobby. I fell down the stairs, the ladders as I
suppose
I must call them, hurried into my cabin and flung myself down by my bunk. I was shaking all over, my teeth were chattering. I could hardly breathe. Indeed I believe, nay, I confess that I should have fallen into a fit, a
syncope
, a seizure or the like—something at all events that would have ended my life, or reason at least, had I not heard young Mr Talbot outside the cabin speak in a firm voice to one of the young gentlemen. He said something like—Come, young midshipman, one
gentleman
does not take pleasure in the persecution of another! At that my tears burst forth freely but with what I may call a healing freedom! God bless Mr Talbot! There is one
true
gentleman
in this ship and I pray that before we reach our
destination
I may call him
Friend
and tell him how much his true consideration has meant to me! Indeed, I now knelt, rather than crouched by my bunk and gave thanks for his consideration and understanding—for his noble charity! I prayed for us both. Only then was I able to sit at this table and consider my situation with something like a rational coolness.

However I turned the thing over and over, I saw one thing clearly enough. As soon as I saw it I came near to falling into a panic all over again. There was—there
is
no doubt—I am the object of a particular animosity on the part of the captain! It was with a thrill of something approaching terror that I re-created in my imagination that moment when he had, as I expressed it, “walked through me”. For I saw now that it was not an accident. His arm, when it struck me, moved not after the common manner in walking but continued its swing with an
unnatural
momentum—augmented immediately after by the blow from his chest that ensured my fall. I knew, or my person knew, by some extraordinary faculty, that Captain Anderson had deliberately struck me down! He is an
enemy to religion—it can only be that! Oh what a spotted soul!

My tears had cleansed my mind. They had exhausted but not defeated me. I thought first of my cloth. He had tried to dishonour that; but I told myself,
that
only I could do. Nor could he dishonour me as a common fellow-being since I had committed no fault, no sin but the venial one of omitting to read his Orders! For that, my sickness was more to blame than I! It is true I had been foolish and was perhaps an object of scorn and
amusement
to the officers and the other gentlemen with the exception of Mr Talbot. But then—and I said this in all humility—so would my Master have been! At that I began to understand that the situation, harsh and unjust as it might seem, was a lesson to me. He puts down the mighty and exalteth the humble and meek. Humble I was of necessity before all the brutal powers which are
inherent
in absolute command. Meek, therefore, it behoved me to be. My dear sister—

Yet this is strange. Already what I have written would be too painful for your—for her—eyes. It must be amended, altered, softened; and yet—

If not to my sister then to whom? To
THEE
? Can it be that like
THY
saints of old (particularly Saint Augustine) I am addressing
THEE
,
OH MOST MERCIFUL SAVIOUR
?

I have prayed long. That thought had flung me to my knees—was at once a pain and a consolation to me. Yet I was able to put it away at last as too high for me! To have—oh, indeed, not touched the hem of those
garments
—but to have glanced for a moment towards
THOSE FEET
—restored me to a clearer view of myself and of my situation. I sat, then, and reflected.

I concluded at last that it would be proper to do either of two things. Item: never to return to the quarterdeck, but for the remainder of our passage hold myself aloof from it
with dignity; the other: to go to the quarterdeck, repeat Captain Anderson's Orders to him and to as many
gentlemen
as might be present, add some such cool remark as “And now, Captain Anderson, I will trouble you no
further
,” then withdraw, absolutely declining to use that part of the vessel in any circumstances whatever—unless
perhaps
Captain Anderson himself should condescend (which I did not believe) to offer me an apology. I spent some time emending and refining my farewell speech to him. But at last I was driven to the consideration that he might not afford me the opportunity of uttering it. He is a master of the brutal and quelling rejoinder. Better then to pursue the first course and give him no further cause or opportunity to insult me.

I must own to a great feeling of relief at reaching this decision. With the aid of
PROVIDENCE
I might contrive to avoid him until the end of our voyage. However, my first duty, as a Christian, was to forgive him, monster as he was. I was able to do this but not without recourse to much prayer and some contemplation of the awful fate that awaited him when he should find himself at last before the
THRONE
. There, I knew him for my brother, was his keeper, and prayed for us both.

That done, to trifle for a moment with profane
literature
, like some Robinson Crusoe, I set to and considered what part of the vessel remained to me as my—as I expressed it—my
kingdom
! It comprised my cabin, the corridor or lobby outside it, the passenger saloon, where I might take such sustenance as I was bold enough to in the presence of the other ladies and gentlemen who had been all witnesses of my humiliation. There were too the
necessary
offices on this side of the vessel and the deck, or
waist
as Phillips calls it, as far as the white line at the main mast which separates us from the common people, be they either seamen or emigrants. That deck was to be for 
my airing in fine weather. There I might meet the better disposed of the gentlemen—and
ladies
too! There—for I knew he used it—I should further and deepen my
friendship
with Mr Talbot. Of course, in wet and windy weather I must be content with the lobby and my cabin. I saw that even if I were to be confined to these areas I might still pass the months ahead without too much
discomfort
and avoid what is most to be feared, a melancholy leading on to madness. All would be well.

This was a decision and a discovery that gave me more earthly pleasure, I believe, than anything I have
experienced
since parting from those scenes so dear to me. Immediately I went out and paced round my island—my
kingdom
!—in the meantime reflecting on all those who would have welcomed such an expansion of their territory as the attainment of liberty—I mean those who in the course of history have found themselves imprisoned for a just cause. Though I have, so to speak, abdicated from that part of the vessel which ought to be the prerogative of my cloth and consequent station in our society, the waist is in some ways to be preferred to the quarterdeck! Indeed I have seen Mr Talbot not merely walk to the white line, but cross it and go among the common people in a
generous
and democratic freedom!

Since writing those last words I have furthered my acquaintance with Mr Talbot! It was he of all people who did in fact search me out! He is a true friend to religion! He came to my cabin and begged me in the most friendly and open manner to favour the ship's people in the evening with a short address! I did so in the passenger saloon. I
cannot
pretend that many of the
gentry
, as I may call them, paid much attention to what they heard and only one of the officers was present. I therefore addressed myself
particularly
to those hearts I thought readily open to the message I
have to give—to a young lady of great piety and beauty and to Mr Talbot himself, whose devotion does credit not only to him in person but through him to his whole order. Would that the gentry and Nobility of England were all imbued with a like spirit!