in fine weather....brrr....with one hand tied behind my back....brrr....’-- ‘I don't want your rags -- I want air,’ gasped out the other faintly, as if suddenly exhausted.
The sprays swept over the whistling and pattering. Men disturbed in their peaceful torpor by the pain of quarrelsome shouts, moaned, muttering curses. Mr. Baker crawled off a little way to leeward where a water-cask loomed up big, with something white against it. ‘Is it you, Podmore?’ asked Mr. Baker. He had to repeat the question twice before the cook turned, coughing feebly. -- ‘Yes, sir.
I've been praying in my mind for a quick deliverance; for I am prepared for any call.....I -- ’ -- ‘Look here, cook,’interrupted Mr. baker, ‘the men are perishing with cold.’-- ‘Cold!’ said the cook, mournfully; ‘they will be warm enough before long.’ -- ‘What?’asked Mr. Baker, looking along the deck into the faint sheen of frothing water. -- ‘They are a wicked lot,’ continued the cook solemnly, but in an unsteady voice, ‘about as wicked as any ship's company in this sinful world! Now, I’ -- he trembled so that he could hardly speak; his was an exposed place, and in a cotton shirt, a thin pair of trousers, and with his knees under his nose, he received, quaking, the flicks of stinging, salt drops; his voice sounded exhausted -- ‘now, I -- any time....My eldest youngster, Mr. Baker....a clever boy....last Sunday on shore before this voyage he wouldn't go to church, sir. Says I, "You go and clean yourself or I'll know the reason why!" What does he do?....Pond, Mr. Baker -- fell into the pond in his best rig, sir!.... Accident?...."Nothing will save you, fine scholar though you are!" says I.....Accident!....I whopped 'im!’ he repeated, rattling his teeth; then, after a while, let out a mournful sound that was half a groan, half a snore. Mr. Baker shook him by the shoulders. ‘Hey!
Cook! Hold up, Podmore! Tell me -- is there any fresh water in the galley tank? The ship is lying along less, I think; I would try to get forward.
A little water would do them good. Hallo! Look out! Look out!’The cook struggled. -- ‘Not you, sir -- not you!’ He began to scramble to windward. ‘Galley!....my business!’he shouted. --
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‘Cook's going crazy now,’ said several voices. He yelled: -- ‘Crazy, am I? I am more ready to die than any of you, officers incloosive -- there! As long as she swims I will cook! I will get you coffee.’ -- ‘Cook, ye are a gentleman!’cried Belfast. But the cook was already going over the weather ladder.
He stopped for a minute to shout back on the poop: -- ‘'as long as she swims I will cook!’ and disappeared as though he had gone overboard. The men who had heard sent after him a cheer that sounded like a wail of sick children. An hour or more afterwards some one said distinctly:
‘He's gone for good.’ -- ‘Very likely,’assented the boatswain; ‘even in fine weather he was as smart about the deck as a milch-cow on her first voyage. We ought to go and see.’Nobody moved. As the hours dragged slowly through the darkness Mr. Baker crawled back and forth along the poop several times. Some men fancied they had heard him exchange murmurs with the master, but at that time the memories were incomparably more vivid than anything actual, and they were not certain whether the murmurs were heard now or many years ago. They did not try to find out. A mutter more or less did not matter. It was too cold for curiosity, and almost for hope. They could not spare a moment or a thought from the great mental occupation of wishing to live. And the desire of life kept them alive, apathetic, and enduring, under the cruel persistence of wind and cold; while the bestarred black dome of the sky revolved slowly above the ship, that drifted, bearing their patience and their suffering, through the stormy solitude of the sea.
Huddled close to one another, they fancied themselves utterly alone. They heard sustained loud noises and again bore the pain of existence through long hours of profound silence. In the night they saw sunshine, felt warmth, and suddenly, with a start, thought that the sun would never rise upon a freezing world. Some heard laughter, listened to songs; others, near the end of the poop, could hear loud human shrieks, and, opening their eyes, were surprised to hear them still, though very faint, and far away.
The boatswain said: -- ‘Why, it's the cook, hailing ’from forward I think.’ He hardly believed his own words or recognised his own voice. It was a long time before the man next to him gave a sign of life. He punched hard his other neighbour and said: -- ‘The cook's Page 61shouting!’ Many did not understand, others did not care; the majority further aft did not believe. But the boatswain and another men had the pluck to crawl away forward to see. They seemed to have been gone for hours, and were soon forgotten. Then suddenly men that had been plunged in a hopeless resignation became as if possessed with a desire to hurt.
They belaboured one another with fists. In the darkness they struck persistently anything soft they could feel near, and, with a greater effort than for a shout, whispered excitedly: -- ‘They've got some hot coffee.....
