Where the Blue Begins

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The first morning in any new environment is always the most exciting.Gissing was already awake, and watching the novel sight of a patch ofsunshine sliding to and fro on the deck of the chart-room, when therewas a gentle tap at the door. The Captain's steward entered, carrying ahandsome uniform.

  "Six bells, sir," he said. "Your bath is laid on."

  Gissing was not very sure just what time it was, but the stewardheld out a dressing gown for him to slip on, so he took the hint, andfollowed him to the Captain's private bathroom where he plunged gailyinto warm salt water. He was hardly dressed before breakfast waslaid for him in the chart-room. It was a breakfast greatly to hisliking--porridge, scrambled eggs, grilled kidneys and bacon, coffee,toast, and marmalade. Evidently the hardships of sea life had beengreatly exaggerated by fiction writers.

  He was a trifle bashful about appearing on the bridge in his blue andbrass formality, and waited a while thinking Captain Scottie might come.But no one disturbed him, so by and bye he went out. It was a briskmorning with a fresh breeze and plenty of whitecaps. Dancing rainbowshovered about the bow when an occasional explosion of spray burst upinto sunlight. Mr. Pointer was on the bridge, still gazing steadily intothe distance. He saluted Gissing, but said nothing. The quartermaster atthe wheel also saluted in silence. A seaman wiping down the paintworkon the deckhouse saluted. Gissing returned these gestures punctiliously,and began to pace the bridge from side to side. He soon grew accustomedto the varying slant of the deck, and felt that his footing showed anautical assurance.

  Now for the first time he enjoyed an untrammelled horizon on all sides.The sea, he observed, was not really blue--not at any rate the blue hehad supposed. Where it seethed flatly along the hull, laced with swirlsof milky foam, it was almost black. Farther away, it was green, ordarkly violet. A ladder led to the top of the charthouse, and from thiscommanding height the whole body of the ship lay below him. How aliveshe seemed, how full of personality! The strong funnels, the tall maststhat moved so delicately against the pale open sky, the distant sternthat now dipped low in a comfortable hollow, and now soared and threshedonward with a swimming thrust, the whole vital organism spoke to the eyeand the imagination. In the centre of this vast circle she moved, royaland serene. She was more beautiful than the element she rode on, forperhaps there was something meaningless in that pure vacant round ofsea and sky. Once its immense azure was grasped and noted, it broughtnothing to the mind. Reason was indignant to conceive it, slopingendlessly away.

  The placid, beautifully planned routine of shipboard passed on itsaccustomed course, and he began to suspect that his staff-captaincy wasa sinecure. Down below he could see the passengers briskly promenading,or drowsing under their rugs. On the hurricane deck, aft, a sailor waschalking a shuffleboard court. It occurred to him that all this mightbecome monotonous unless he found some actual part in it. Just thenCaptain Scottie appeared on the bridge, took a quick look round, andjoined him on top of the charthouse.

  "Good morning!" he said. "You won't think me rude if you don't see muchof me? Thinking about those ideas of yours, I have come upon some ratherpuzzling stuff. I must work the whole thing out more clearly. Yoursuggestion that Conscience points the way to an integration ofpersonality into a higher type of divinity, seems to me off the track;but I haven't quite downed it yet. I'm going to shut myself up to-dayand consider the matter. I leave you in charge."

  "I shall be perfectly happy," said Gissing. "Please don't worry aboutme."

  "You suggest that all the conditions of life at sea, our mastery of theforces of Nature, and so on, seem to show that we have perfect freedomof will, and adapt everything to our desires. I believe just thecontrary. The forces of Nature compel us to approach them in their ownway, otherwise we are shipwrecked. It is in the conditions of Naturethat this ship should reach port in eight days, otherwise we should getnowhere. We do it because it is our destiny."

  "I am not so sure of that," said Gissing. But the Captain had alreadydeparted with a clouded brow.

  On the chart-room roof Gissing had discovered an alluring instrument,the exact use of which he did not know. It seemed to be some kind ofsteering control. The dial was lettered, from left to right, as followsHARD A PORT, PORT, STEADY, COURSE, STEADY, STARBD, HARD A STARBD. Atpresent the handle stood upon the section marked COURSE. After a carefulstudy of the whole seascape, it seemed to Gissing that off to the souththe ocean looked more blue and more interesting. After some hesitationhe moved the handle to the PORT mark, and waited to see what wouldhappen. To his delight he saw the bow swing slowly round, and thePomerania's gleaming wake spread behind her in a whitened curve. Hedescended to the bridge, a little nervous as to what Mr. Pointer mightsay, but he found the Mate gazing across the water with the same fierceand unwearying attention.

  "I have changed the course," he said.

  Mr. Pointer saluted, but said nothing.

  Having succeeded so far, Gissing ventured upon another innovation.He had been greatly tempted by the wheel, and envied the stolidquartermaster who was steering. So, assuming an air of calm certainty,he entered the wheelhouse.

  "I'll take her for a while," he said.

  "Aye, aye, sir," said the quartermaster, and surrendered the wheel tohim.

  "You might string out a few flags," Gissing said. He had been noticingthe bright signal buntings in the rack, and thought it a pity not to usethem.

  "I like to see a ship well dressed," he added.

  "Aye, aye, sir," said Dane. "Any choice, sir?"

  Gissing picked out a string of flags which were particularly lively incolour-scheme, and had them hoisted. Then he gave his attention to thewheel. He found it quite an art, and was surprised to learn that a bigship requires so much helm. But it was very pleasant. He took care tosteer toward patches of sea that looked interesting, and to cut into anyparticular waves that took his fancy. After an hour or so, he sighted afishing schooner, and gave chase. He found it so much fun to run closebeside her (taking care to pass to leeward, so as not to cut off herwind) that a mile farther on he turned and steered a neat circleabout the bewildered craft. The Pomerania's passengers were greatlyinterested, and lined the rails trying to make out what the fishermenwere shouting. The captain of the schooner seemed particularly agitated,kept waving at the signal flags and barking through a megaphone. Duringthese manoeuvres Mr. Pointer gazed so hard at the horizon that Gissingfelt a bit embarrassed.

  "I thought it wise to find out exactly what our turning-circle is," hesaid.

  Mr. Pointer saluted. He was a well-trained officer.

  Late in the afternoon the Captain reappeared, looking more cheerful.Gissing was still at the helm, which he found so fascinating he wouldnot relinquish it. He had ordered his tea served on a little standbeside the wheel so that he could drink it while he steered. "Hullo!"said the Captain. "I see you've changed the course."

  "It seemed best to do so," said Gissing firmly. He felt that to show anyweakness at this point would be fatal.

  "Oh, well, probably it doesn't matter. I'm coming round to some of yourideas."

  Gissing saw that this would never do. Unless he could keep the masterdisturbed by philosophic doubts, Scottie would expect to resume commandof the ship.

  "Well," he said, "I've been thinking about it, too. I believe I wenta bit too far. But what do you think about this? Do you believe thatConscience is inherited or acquired? You sea how important that is. IfConscience is a kind of automatic oracle, infallible and perfect, whatbecomes of free will? And if, on the other hand, Conscience is only alaboriously trained perception of moral and social utilities, where doesyour deity come in?"

  Gissing was aware that this dilemma would not hold water very long, andwas painfully impromptu; but it hit the Captain amidships.

  "By Jove," he said, "that's terrible, isn't it? It's no use trying tocarry on until I've got that under the hatch. Look here, would youmind, just as a favour, keep things going while I wrestle with thatquestion?--I know it's aski
ng a lot, but perhaps--"

  "It's quite all right," Gissing replied. "Naturally you want to workthese things out."

  The Captain started to leave the bridge, but by old seafaring habit hecast a keen glance at the sky. He saw the bright string of code flagsfluttering. He seemed startled.

  "Are you signalling any one?" he asked.

  "No one in particular. I thought it looked better to have a few flagsabout."

  "I daresay you're right. But better take them down if you speak a ship.They're rather confusing."

  "Confusing? I thought they were just to brighten things up."

  "You have two different signals up. They read, Bubonic plague, give me awide berth. Am coming to your assistance."

  Toward dinner time, when Gissing had left the wheel and was humming atune as he walked the bridge, the steward came to him.

  "The Captain's compliments, sir, and would you take his place in thesaloon to-night? He says he's very busy writing, sir, and would take itas a favour."

  Gissing was always obliging. There was just a hint of conscioussternness in his manner as he entered the Pomerania's beautiful diningsaloon, for he wished the passengers to realize that their livesdepended upon his prudence and sea-lore. Twice during the meal heinstructed the steward to bring him the latest barometer reading; andafter the dessert he scribbled a note on the back of a menu-card and hadit sent to the Chief Engineer. It said:--

  Dear Chief: Please keep up a good head of steam to-night. I am expectingdirty weather.

  MR. GISSING,

  (Staff-Captain)

  What the Chief said when he received the message is not included in thestory.

  But the same social aplomb that had made Gissing successful as afloorwalker now came to his rescue as mariner. The passengers at theCaptain's table were amazed at his genial charm. His anecdotes of sealife were heartily applauded. After dinner he circulated gracefully inthe ladies' lounge, and took coffee there surrounded by a chatteringbevy. He organized a little impromptu concert in the music room, andwhen that was well started, slipped away to the smoke-room. Here hefound a pool being organized as to the exact day and hour when thePomerania would reach port. Appealed to for his opinion, he advisedcaution. On all sides he was in demand, for dancing, for bridge, fora recitation. At length he slipped away, pleading that he must keephimself fit in case of fog. The passengers were loud in his praise,asserting that they had never met so agreeable a sea-captain. Oneelderly lady said she remembered crossing with him in the old Caninia,years ago, and that he was just the same then.