a moment there was a burst andturmoil of sparks that seemed to fill with flying fire the night patientand watchful, the vast night lying silent upon the sea. At daylightshe was only a charred shell, floating still under a cloud of smoke andbearing a glowing mass of coal within.
"Then the oars were got out, and the boats forming in a line moved roundher remains as if in procession--the long-boat leading. As we pulledacross her stern a slim dart of fire shot out viciously at us, andsuddenly she went down, head first, in a great hiss of steam. Theunconsumed stern was the last to sink; but the paint had gone, hadcracked, had peeled off, and there were no letters, there was no word,no stubborn device that was like her soul, to flash at the rising sunher creed and her name.
"We made our way north. A breeze sprang up, and about noon all the boatscame together for the last time. I had no mast or sail in mine, but Imade a mast out of a spare oar and hoisted a boat-awning for a sail,with a boat-hook for a yard. She was certainly over-masted, but I hadthe satisfaction of knowing that with the wind aft I could beat theother two. I had to wait for them. Then we all had a look at thecaptain's chart, and, after a sociable meal of hard bread and water, gotour last instructions. These were simple: steer north, and keep togetheras much as possible. 'Be careful with that jury rig, Marlow,' said thecaptain; and Mahon, as I sailed proudly past his boat, wrinkled hiscurved nose and hailed, 'You will sail that ship of yours under water,if you don't look out, young fellow.' He was a malicious old man--andmay the deep sea where he sleeps now rock him gently, rock him tenderlyto the end of time!
"Before sunset a thick rain-squall passed over the two boats, which werefar astern, and that was the last I saw of them for a time. Next day Isat steering my cockle-shell--my first command--with nothing but waterand sky around me. I did sight in the afternoon the upper sails of aship far away, but said nothing, and my men did not notice her. You seeI was afraid she might be homeward bound, and I had no mind to turn backfrom the portals of the East. I was steering for Java--another blessedname--like Bankok, you know. I steered many days.
"I need not tell you what it is to be knocking about in an open boat. Iremember nights and days of calm when we pulled, we pulled, and theboat seemed to stand still, as if bewitched within the circle of the seahorizon. I remember the heat, the deluge of rain-squalls that kept usbaling for dear life (but filled our water-cask), and I remember sixteenhours on end with a mouth dry as a cinder and a steering-oar over thestern to keep my first command head on to a breaking sea. I did not knowhow good a man I was till then. I remember the drawn faces, the dejectedfigures of my two men, and I remember my youth and the feeling thatwill never come back any more--the feeling that I could last for ever,outlast the sea, the earth, and all men; the deceitful feeling thatlures us on to joys, to perils, to love, to vain effort--to death; thetriumphant conviction of strength, the heat of life in the handful ofdust, the glow in the heart that with every year grows dim, grows cold,grows small, and expires--and expires, too soon--before life itself.
"And this is how I see the East. I have seen its secret places and havelooked into its very soul; but now I see it always from a small boat, ahigh outline of mountains, blue and afar in the morning; like faint mistat noon; a jagged wall of purple at sunset. I have the feel of the oarin my hand, the vision of a scorching blue sea in my eyes. And I see abay, a wide bay, smooth as glass and polished like ice, shimmering inthe dark. A red light burns far off upon the gloom of the land, andthe night is soft and warm. We drag at the oars with aching arms, andsuddenly a puff of wind, a puff faint and tepid and laden with strangeodors of blossoms, of aromatic wood, comes out of the still night--thefirst sigh of the East on my face. That I can never forget. It wasimpalpable and enslaving, like a charm, like a whispered promise ofmysterious delight.
"We had been pulling this finishing spell for eleven hours. Two pulled,and he whose turn it was to rest sat at the tiller. We had made out thered light in that bay and steered for it, guessing it must mark somesmall coasting port. We passed two vessels, outlandish and high-sterned,sleeping at anchor, and, approaching the light, now very dim, ran theboat's nose against the end of a jutting wharf. We were blind withfatigue. My men dropped the oars and fell off the thwarts as if dead. Imade fast to a pile. A current rippled softly. The scented obscurity ofthe shore was grouped into vast masses, a density of colossal clumps ofvegetation, probably--mute and fantastic shapes. And at their foot thesemicircle of a beach gleamed faintly, like an illusion. There was nota light, not a stir, not a sound. The mysterious East faced me, perfumedlike a flower, silent like death, dark like a grave.
"And I sat weary beyond expression, exulting like a conqueror, sleeplessand entranced as if before a profound, a fateful enigma.
"A splashing of oars, a measured dip reverberating on the level ofwater, intensified by the silence of the shore into loud claps, made mejump up. A boat, a European boat, was coming in. I invoked the name ofthe dead; I hailed: _Judea_ ahoy! A thin shout answered.
"It was the captain. I had beaten the flagship by three hours, and Iwas glad to hear the old man's voice, tremulous and tired. 'Is it you,Marlow?' 'Mind the end of that jetty, sir,' I cried.
"He approached cautiously, and brought up with the deep-sea lead-linewhich we had saved--for the under-writers. I eased my painter and fellalongside. He sat, a broken figure at the stern, wet with dew, his handsclasped in his lap. His men were asleep already. 'I had a terrible timeof it,' he murmured. 'Mahon is behind--not very far.' We conversedin whispers, in low whispers, as if afraid to wake up the land. Guns,thunder, earthquakes would not have awakened the men just then.
"Looking around as we talked, I saw away at sea a bright light travellingin the night. 'There's a steamer passing the bay,' I said. She was notpassing, she was entering, and she even came close and anchored. 'Iwish,' said the old man, 'you would find out whether she is English.Perhaps they could give us a passage somewhere.' He seemed nervouslyanxious. So by dint of punching and kicking I started one of my men intoa state of somnambulism, and giving him an oar, took another and pulledtowards the lights of the steamer.
"There was a murmur of voices in her, metallic hollow clangs of theengine-room, footsteps on the deck. Her ports shone, round like dilatedeyes. Shapes moved about, and there was a shadowy man high up on thebridge. He heard my oars.
"And then, before I could open my lips, the East spoke to me, but it wasin a Western voice. A torrent of words was poured into the enigmatical,the fateful silence; outlandish, angry words, mixed with words and evenwhole sentences of good English, less strange but even more surprising.The voice swore and cursed violently; it riddled the solemn peace of thebay by a volley of abuse. It began by calling me Pig, and from that wentcrescendo into unmentionable adjectives--in English. The man up thereraged aloud in two languages, and with a sincerity in his fury thatalmost convinced me I had, in some way, sinned against the harmony ofthe universe. I could hardly see him, but began to think he would workhimself into a fit.
"Suddenly he ceased, and I could hear him snorting and blowing like aporpoise. I said--
"'What steamer is this, pray?'
"'Eh? What's this? And who are you?'
"'Castaway crew of an English barque burnt at sea. We came hereto-night. I am the second mate. The captain is in the long-boat, andwishes to know if you would give us a passage somewhere.'
"'Oh, my goodness! I say... This is the Celestial from Singapore onher return trip. I'll arrange with your captain in the morning...and,... I say... did you hear me just now?'
"'I should think the whole bay heard you.'
"'I thought you were a shore-boat. Now, look here--this infernal lazyscoundrel of a caretaker has gone to sleep again--curse him. The lightis out, and I nearly ran foul of the end of this damned jetty. This isthe third time he plays me this trick. Now, I ask you, can anybody standthis kind of thing? It's enough to drive a man out of his mind. I'llreport him.... I'll get the Assistant Resident to give him thesack, by... See--there's no light. It's out, isn't it? I take yo
u towitness the light's out. There should be a light, you know. A red lighton the--'
"'There was a light,' I said, mildly.
"'But it's out, man! What's the use of talking like this? You can seefor yourself it's out--don't you? If you had to take a valuable steameralong this God-forsaken coast you would want a light too. I'll kick himfrom end to end of his miserable wharf. You'll see if I don't. I will--'
"'So I may tell my captain you'll take us?' I broke in.
"'Yes, I'll take you. Good night,' he said, brusquely.
"I pulled back, made fast again to the jetty, and then went to sleepat last. I had faced the silence of the