The Voyage Out

  Chapter XX

  When considered in detail by Mr. Flushing and Mrs. Ambrose theexpedition proved neither dangerous nor difficult. They found also thatit was not even unusual. Every year at this season English people madeparties which steamed a short way up the river, landed, and looked atthe native village, bought a certain number of things from the natives,and returned again without damage done to mind or body. When it wasdiscovered that six people really wished the same thing the arrangementswere soon carried out.

  Since the time of Elizabeth very few people had seen the river, andnothing has been done to change its appearance from what it was to theeyes of the Elizabethan voyagers. The time of Elizabeth was only distantfrom the present time by a moment of space compared with the ages whichhad passed since the water had run between those banks, and the greenthickets swarmed there, and the small trees had grown to huge wrinkledtrees in solitude. Changing only with the change of the sun and theclouds, the waving green mass had stood there for century after century,and the water had run between its banks ceaselessly, sometimes washingaway earth and sometimes the branches of trees, while in other parts ofthe world one town had risen upon the ruins of another town, and the menin the towns had become more and more articulate and unlike each other.A few miles of this river were visible from the top of the mountainwhere some weeks before the party from the hotel had picnicked. Susanand Arthur had seen it as they kissed each other, and Terence and Rachelas they sat talking about Richmond, and Evelyn and Perrott as theystrolled about, imagining that they were great captains sent to colonisethe world. They had seen the broad blue mark across the sand where itflowed into the sea, and the green cloud of trees mass themselves aboutit farther up, and finally hide its waters altogether from sight. Atintervals for the first twenty miles or so houses were scattered on thebank; by degrees the houses became huts, and, later still, there wasneither hut nor house, but trees and grass, which were seen only byhunters, explorers, or merchants, marching or sailing, but making nosettlement.

  By leaving Santa Marina early in the morning, driving twenty milesand riding eight, the party, which was composed finally of six Englishpeople, reached the river-side as the night fell. They came canteringthrough the trees--Mr. and Mrs. Flushing, Helen Ambrose, Rachel,Terence, and St. John. The tired little horses then stoppedautomatically, and the English dismounted. Mrs. Flushing strode to theriver-bank in high spirits. The day had been long and hot, but she hadenjoyed the speed and the open air; she had left the hotel which shehated, and she found the company to her liking. The river was swirlingpast in the darkness; they could just distinguish the smooth movingsurface of the water, and the air was full of the sound of it. Theystood in an empty space in the midst of great tree-trunks, and out therea little green light moving slightly up and down showed them where thesteamer lay in which they were to embark.

  When they all stood upon its deck they found that it was a very smallboat which throbbed gently beneath them for a few minutes, and thenshoved smoothly through the water. They seemed to be driving into theheart of the night, for the trees closed in front of them, and theycould hear all round them the rustling of leaves. The great darkness hadthe usual effect of taking away all desire for communication by makingtheir words sound thin and small; and, after walking round the deckthree or four times, they clustered together, yawning deeply, andlooking at the same spot of deep gloom on the banks. Murmuring very lowin the rhythmical tone of one oppressed by the air, Mrs. Flushing beganto wonder where they were to sleep, for they could not sleep downstairs,they could not sleep in a doghole smelling of oil, they could not sleepon deck, they could not sleep--She yawned profoundly. It was as Helenhad foreseen; the question of nakedness had risen already, although theywere half asleep, and almost invisible to each other. With St. John'shelp she stretched an awning, and persuaded Mrs. Flushing that she couldtake off her clothes behind this, and that no one would notice if bychance some part of her which had been concealed for forty-five yearswas laid bare to the human eye. Mattresses were thrown down, rugsprovided, and the three women lay near each other in the soft open air.

  The gentlemen, having smoked a certain number of cigarettes, droppedthe glowing ends into the river, and looked for a time at the rippleswrinkling the black water beneath them, undressed too, and lay down atthe other end of the boat. They were very tired, and curtained from eachother by the darkness. The light from one lantern fell upon a few ropes,a few planks of the deck, and the rail of the boat, but beyond thatthere was unbroken darkness, no light reached their faces, or the treeswhich were massed on the sides of the river.

  Soon Wilfrid Flushing slept, and Hirst slept. Hewet alone lay awakelooking straight up into the sky. The gentle motion and the black shapesthat were drawn ceaselessly across his eyes had the effect of makingit impossible for him to think. Rachel's presence so near him lulledthought asleep. Being so near him, only a few paces off at the other endof the boat, she made it as impossible for him to think about her as itwould have been impossible to see her if she had stood quite close tohim, her forehead against his forehead. In some strange way the boatbecame identified with himself, and just as it would have been uselessfor him to get up and steer the boat, so was it useless for him tostruggle any longer with the irresistible force of his own feelings. Hewas drawn on and on away from all he knew, slipping over barriers andpast landmarks into unknown waters as the boat glided over thesmooth surface of the river. In profound peace, enveloped in deeperunconsciousness than had been his for many nights, he lay on deckwatching the tree-tops change their position slightly against the sky,and arch themselves, and sink and tower huge, until he passed fromseeing them into dreams where he lay beneath the shadow of the vasttrees, looking up into the sky.

  When they woke next morning they had gone a considerable way up theriver; on the right was a high yellow bank of sand tufted with trees, onthe left a swamp quivering with long reeds and tall bamboos on the topof which, swaying slightly, perched vivid green and yellow birds. Themorning was hot and still. After breakfast they drew chairs together andsat in an irregular semicircle in the bow. An awning above their headsprotected them from the heat of the sun, and the breeze which the boatmade aired them softly. Mrs. Flushing was already dotting and stripingher canvas, her head jerking this way and that with the action of a birdnervously picking up grain; the others had books or pieces of paperor embroidery on their knees, at which they looked fitfully and againlooked at the river ahead. At one point Hewet read part of a poem aloud,but the number of moving things entirely vanquished his words. He ceasedto read, and no one spoke. They moved on under the shelter of the trees.There was now a covey of red birds feeding on one of the little isletsto the left, or again a blue-green parrot flew shrieking from tree totree. As they moved on the country grew wilder and wilder. The trees andthe undergrowth seemed to be strangling each other near the ground in amultitudinous wrestle; while here and there a splendid tree towered highabove the swarm, shaking its thin green umbrellas lightly in the upperair. Hewet looked at his books again. The morning was peaceful as thenight had been, only it was very strange because he could see it waslight, and he could see Rachel and hear her voice and be near to her.He felt as if he were waiting, as if somehow he were stationary amongthings that passed over him and around him, voices, people's bodies,birds, only Rachel too was waiting with him. He looked at her sometimesas if she must know that they were waiting together, and being drawn ontogether, without being able to offer any resistance. Again he read fromhis book:

  Whoever you are holding me now in your hand, Without one thing all will be useless.

  A bird gave a wild laugh, a monkey chuckled a malicious question, and,as fire fades in the hot sunshine, his words flickered and went out.

  By degrees as the river narrowed, and the high sandbanks fell to levelground thickly grown with trees, the sounds of the forest could beheard. It echoed like a hall. There were sudden cries; and then longspaces of silence, such as there are in a cathedral when a boy's voicehas ce
ased and the echo of it still seems to haunt about the remoteplaces of the roof. Once Mr. Flushing rose and spoke to a sailor, andeven announced that some time after luncheon the steamer would stop, andthey could walk a little way through the forest.

  "There are tracks all through the trees there," he explained. "We're nodistance from civilisation yet."

  He scrutinised his wife's painting. Too polite to praise it openly,he contented himself with cutting off one half of the picture with onehand, and giving a flourish in the air with the other.

  "God!" Hirst exclaimed, staring straight ahead. "Don't you think it'samazingly beautiful?"

  "Beautiful?" Helen enquired. It seemed a strange little word, and Hirstand herself both so small that she forgot to answer him.

  Hewet felt that he must speak.

  "That's where the Elizabethans got their style," he mused, staring intothe profusion of leaves and blossoms and prodigious fruits.

  "Shakespeare? I hate Shakespeare!" Mrs. Flushing exclaimed; and Wilfridreturned admiringly, "I believe you're the only person who dares to saythat, Alice." But Mrs. Flushing went on painting. She did not appearto attach much value to her husband's compliment, and painted steadily,sometimes muttering a half-audible word or groan.

  The morning was now very hot.

  "Look at Hirst!" Mr. Flushing whispered. His sheet of paper had slippedon to the deck, his head lay back, and he drew a long snoring breath.

  Terence picked up the sheet of paper and spread it out before Rachel. Itwas a continuation of the poem on God which he had begun in the chapel,and it was so indecent that Rachel did not understand half of italthough she saw that it was indecent. Hewet began to fill in wordswhere Hirst had left spaces, but he soon ceased; his pencil rolled ondeck. Gradually they approached nearer and nearer to the bank on theright-hand side, so that the light which covered them became definitelygreen, falling through a shade of green leaves, and Mrs. Flushing setaside her sketch and stared ahead of her in silence. Hirst woke up; theywere then called to luncheon, and while they ate it, the steamer cameto a standstill a little way out from the bank. The boat which was towedbehind them was brought to the side, and the ladies were helped into it.

  For protection against boredom, Helen put a book of memoirs beneath herarm, and Mrs. Flushing her paint-box, and, thus equipped, they allowedthemselves to be set on shore on the verge of the forest.

  They had not strolled more than a few hundred yards along the trackwhich ran parallel with the river before Helen professed to find itwas unbearably hot. The river breeze had ceased, and a hot steamyatmosphere, thick with scents, came from the forest.

  "I shall sit down here," she announced, pointing to the trunk of atree which had fallen long ago and was now laced across and acrossby creepers and thong-like brambles. She seated herself, opened herparasol, and looked at the river which was barred by the stems of trees.She turned her back to the trees which disappeared in black shadowbehind her.

  "I quite agree," said Mrs. Flushing, and proceeded to undo herpaint-box. Her husband strolled about to select an interesting point ofview for her. Hirst cleared a space on the ground by Helen's side, andseated himself with great deliberation, as if he did not mean to moveuntil he had talked to her for a long time. Terence and Rachel were leftstanding by themselves without occupation. Terence saw that the timehad come as it was fated to come, but although he realised this hewas completely calm and master of himself. He chose to stand for a fewmoments talking to Helen, and persuading her to leave her seat. Racheljoined him too in advising her to come with them.

  "Of all the people I've ever met," he said, "you're the leastadventurous. You might be sitting on green chairs in Hyde Park. Are yougoing to sit there the whole afternoon? Aren't you going to walk?"

  "Oh, no," said Helen, "one's only got to use one's eye. There'severything here--everything," she repeated in a drowsy tone of voice."What will you gain by walking?"

  "You'll be hot and disagreeable by tea-time, we shall be cool andsweet," put in Hirst. Into his eyes as he looked up at them had comeyellow and green reflections from the sky and the branches, robbing themof their intentness, and he seemed to think what he did not say. It wasthus taken for granted by them both that Terence and Rachel proposed towalk into the woods together; with one look at each other they turnedaway.

  "Good-bye!" cried Rachel.

  "Good-by. Beware of snakes," Hirst replied. He settled himself stillmore comfortably under the shade of the fallen tree and Helen's figure.As they went, Mr. Flushing called after them, "We must start in an hour.Hewet, please remember that. An hour."

  Whether made by man, or for some reason preserved by nature, there wasa wide pathway striking through the forest at right angles to the river.It resembled a drive in an English forest, save that tropical busheswith their sword-like leaves grew at the side, and the ground wascovered with an unmarked springy moss instead of grass, starred withlittle yellow flowers. As they passed into the depths of the forest thelight grew dimmer, and the noises of the ordinary world were replacedby those creaking and sighing sounds which suggest to the traveller ina forest that he is walking at the bottom of the sea. The path narrowedand turned; it was hedged in by dense creepers which knotted tree totree, and burst here and there into star-shaped crimson blossoms. Thesighing and creaking up above were broken every now and then by thejarring cry of some startled animal. The atmosphere was close and theair came at them in languid puffs of scent. The vast green light wasbroken here and there by a round of pure yellow sunlight which fellthrough some gap in the immense umbrella of green above, and in theseyellow spaces crimson and black butterflies were circling and settling.Terence and Rachel hardly spoke.

  Not only did the silence weigh upon them, but they were both unable toframe any thoughts. There was something between them which had to bespoken of. One of them had to begin, but which of them was it to be?Then Hewet picked up a red fruit and threw it as high as he could. Whenit dropped, he would speak. They heard the flapping of great wings; theyheard the fruit go pattering through the leaves and eventually fall witha thud. The silence was again profound.

  "Does this frighten you?" Terence asked when the sound of the fruitfalling had completely died away.

  "No," she answered. "I like it."

  She repeated "I like it." She was walking fast, and holding herself moreerect than usual. There was another pause.

  "You like being with me?" Terence asked.

  "Yes, with you," she replied.

  He was silent for a moment. Silence seemed to have fallen upon theworld.

  "That is what I have felt ever since I knew you," he replied. "We arehappy together." He did not seem to be speaking, or she to be hearing.

  "Very happy," she answered.

  They continued to walk for some time in silence. Their stepsunconsciously quickened.

  "We love each other," Terence said.

  "We love each other," she repeated.

  The silence was then broken by their voices which joined in tones ofstrange unfamiliar sound which formed no words. Faster and faster theywalked; simultaneously they stopped, clasped each other in their arms,then releasing themselves, dropped to the earth. They sat side byside. Sounds stood out from the background making a bridge across theirsilence; they heard the swish of the trees and some beast croaking in aremote world.

  "We love each other," Terence repeated, searching into her face. Theirfaces were both very pale and quiet, and they said nothing. He wasafraid to kiss her again. By degrees she drew close to him, and restedagainst him. In this position they sat for some time. She said "Terence"once; he answered "Rachel."

  "Terrible--terrible," she murmured after another pause, but in sayingthis she was thinking as much of the persistent churning of the water asof her own feeling. On and on it went in the distance, the senseless andcruel churning of the water. She observed that the tears were runningdown Terence's cheeks.

  The next movement was on his part. A very long time seemed to havepassed. He took out his watch
.

  "Flushing said an hour. We've been gone more than half an hour."

  "And it takes that to get back," said Rachel. She raised herself veryslowly. When she was standing up she stretched her arms and drew a deepbreath, half a sigh, half a yawn. She appeared to be very tired. Hercheeks were white. "Which way?" she asked.

  "There," said Terence.

  They began to walk back down the mossy path again. The sighing andcreaking continued far overhead, and the jarring cries of animals. Thebutterflies were circling still in the patches of yellow sunlight.At first Terence was certain of his way, but as they walked he becamedoubtful. They had to stop to consider, and then to return and startonce more, for although he was certain of the direction of the river hewas not certain of striking the point where they had left the others.Rachel followed him, stopping where he stopped, turning where he turned,ignorant of the way, ignorant why he stopped or why he turned.

  "I don't want to be late," he said, "because--" He put a flower into herhand and her fingers closed upon it quietly. "We're so late--solate--so horribly late," he repeated as if he were talking in his sleep."Ah--this is right. We turn here."

  They found themselves again in the broad path, like the drive in theEnglish forest, where they had started when they left the others. Theywalked on in silence as people walking in their sleep, and were oddlyconscious now and again of the mass of their bodies. Then Rachelexclaimed suddenly, "Helen!"

  In the sunny space at the edge of the forest they saw Helen stillsitting on the tree-trunk, her dress showing very white in the sun,with Hirst still propped on his elbow by her side. They stoppedinstinctively. At the sight of other people they could not go on. Theystood hand in hand for a minute or two in silence. They could not bearto face other people.

  "But we must go on," Rachel insisted at last, in the curious dull toneof voice in which they had both been speaking, and with a great effortthey forced themselves to cover the short distance which lay betweenthem and the pair sitting on the tree-trunk.

  As they approached, Helen turned round and looked at them. She looked atthem for some time without speaking, and when they were close to her shesaid quietly:

  "Did you meet Mr. Flushing? He has gone to find you. He thought you mustbe lost, though I told him you weren't lost."

  Hirst half turned round and threw his head back so that he looked at thebranches crossing themselves in the air above him.

  "Well, was it worth the effort?" he enquired dreamily.

  Hewet sat down on the grass by his side and began to fan himself.

  Rachel had balanced herself near Helen on the end of the tree trunk.

  "Very hot," she said.

  "You look exhausted anyhow," said Hirst.

  "It's fearfully close in those trees," Helen remarked, picking up herbook and shaking it free from the dried blades of grass which had fallenbetween the leaves. Then they were all silent, looking at the riverswirling past in front of them between the trunks of the trees until Mr.Flushing interrupted them. He broke out of the trees a hundred yards tothe left, exclaiming sharply:

  "Ah, so you found the way after all. But it's late--much later than wearranged, Hewet."

  He was slightly annoyed, and in his capacity as leader of theexpedition, inclined to be dictatorial. He spoke quickly, usingcuriously sharp, meaningless words.

  "Being late wouldn't matter normally, of course," he said, "but whenit's a question of keeping the men up to time--"

  He gathered them together and made them come down to the river-bank,where the boat was waiting to row them out to the steamer.

  The heat of the day was going down, and over their cups of tea theFlushings tended to become communicative. It seemed to Terence as helistened to them talking, that existence now went on in two differentlayers. Here were the Flushings talking, talking somewhere high up inthe air above him, and he and Rachel had dropped to the bottom ofthe world together. But with something of a child's directness, Mrs.Flushing had also the instinct which leads a child to suspect what itselders wish to keep hidden. She fixed Terence with her vivid blue eyesand addressed herself to him in particular. What would he do, she wantedto know, if the boat ran upon a rock and sank.

  "Would you care for anythin' but savin' yourself? Should I? No, no," shelaughed, "not one scrap--don't tell me. There's only two creatures theordinary woman cares about," she continued, "her child and her dog;and I don't believe it's even two with men. One reads a lot aboutlove--that's why poetry's so dull. But what happens in real life, he? Itain't love!" she cried.

  Terence murmured something unintelligible. Mr. Flushing, however, hadrecovered his urbanity. He was smoking a cigarette, and he now answeredhis wife.

  "You must always remember, Alice," he said, "that your upbringingwas very unnatural--unusual, I should say. They had no mother," heexplained, dropping something of the formality of his tone; "and afather--he was a very delightful man, I've no doubt, but he cared onlyfor racehorses and Greek statues. Tell them about the bath, Alice."

  "In the stable-yard," said Mrs. Flushing. "Covered with ice in winter.We had to get in; if we didn't, we were whipped. The strong oneslived--the others died. What you call survival of the fittest--a mostexcellent plan, I daresay, if you've thirteen children!"

  "And all this going on in the heart of England, in the nineteenthcentury!" Mr. Flushing exclaimed, turning to Helen.

  "I'd treat my children just the same if I had any," said Mrs. Flushing.

  Every word sounded quite distinctly in Terence's ears; but what werethey saying, and who were they talking to, and who were they, thesefantastic people, detached somewhere high up in the air? Now that theyhad drunk their tea, they rose and leant over the bow of the boat. Thesun was going down, and the water was dark and crimson. The river hadwidened again, and they were passing a little island set like a darkwedge in the middle of the stream. Two great white birds with red lightson them stood there on stilt-like legs, and the beach of the island wasunmarked, save by the skeleton print of birds' feet. The branches ofthe trees on the bank looked more twisted and angular than ever, and thegreen of the leaves was lurid and splashed with gold. Then Hirst beganto talk, leaning over the bow.

  "It makes one awfully queer, don't you find?" he complained. "Thesetrees get on one's nerves--it's all so crazy. God's undoubtedly mad.What sane person could have conceived a wilderness like this, andpeopled it with apes and alligators? I should go mad if I livedhere--raving mad."

  Terence attempted to answer him, but Mrs. Ambrose replied instead. Shebade him look at the way things massed themselves--look at the amazingcolours, look at the shapes of the trees. She seemed to be protectingTerence from the approach of the others.

  "Yes," said Mr. Flushing. "And in my opinion," he continued, "theabsence of population to which Hirst objects is precisely thesignificant touch. You must admit, Hirst, that a little Italiantown even would vulgarise the whole scene, would detract from thevastness--the sense of elemental grandeur." He swept his hands towardsthe forest, and paused for a moment, looking at the great green mass,which was now falling silent. "I own it makes us seem pretty small--us,not them." He nodded his head at a sailor who leant over the sidespitting into the river. "And that, I think, is what my wife feels, theessential superiority of the peasant--" Under cover of Mr. Flushing'swords, which continued now gently reasoning with St. John and persuadinghim, Terence drew Rachel to the side, pointing ostensibly to a greatgnarled tree-trunk which had fallen and lay half in the water. Hewished, at any rate, to be near her, but he found that he could saynothing. They could hear Mr. Flushing flowing on, now about his wife,now about art, now about the future of the country, little meaninglesswords floating high in air. As it was becoming cold he began to pacethe deck with Hirst. Fragments of their talk came out distinctly as theypassed--art, emotion, truth, reality.

  "Is it true, or is it a dream?" Rachel murmured, when they had passed.

  "It's true, it's true," he replied.

  But the breeze freshened, and there was a
general desire for movement.When the party rearranged themselves under cover of rugs and cloaks,Terence and Rachel were at opposite ends of the circle, and could notspeak to each other. But as the dark descended, the words of the othersseemed to curl up and vanish as the ashes of burnt paper, and left themsitting perfectly silent at the bottom of the world. Occasional startsof exquisite joy ran through them, and then they were peaceful again.