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Lord Jim, by Joseph Conrad

CHAPTER 3

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_ A marvellous stillness pervaded the world, and the stars, together
with the serenity of their rays, seemed to shed upon the earth the
assurance of everlasting security. The young moon recurved, and
shining low in the west, was like a slender shaving thrown up from
a bar of gold, and the Arabian Sea, smooth and cool to the eye like
a sheet of ice, extended its perfect level to the perfect circle of a
dark horizon. The propeller turned without a check, as though its
beat had been part of the scheme of a safe universe; and on each
side of the Patna two deep folds of water, permanent and sombre
on the unwrinkled shimmer, enclosed within their straight and
diverging ridges a few white swirls of foam bursting in a low hiss,
a few wavelets, a few ripples, a few undulations that, left behind,
agitated the surface of the sea for an instant after the passage of the
ship, subsided splashing gently, calmed down at last into the circular
stillness of water and sky with the black speck of the moving hull
remaining everlastingly in its centre.

Jim on the bridge was penetrated by the great certitude of unbounded
safety and peace that could be read on the silent aspect of nature
like the certitude of fostering love upon the placid tenderness
of a mother's face. Below the roof of awnings, surrendered to the
wisdom of white men and to their courage, trusting the power of
their unbelief and the iron shell of their fire-ship, the pilgrims
of an exacting faith slept on mats, on blankets, on bare planks, on
every deck, in all the dark corners, wrapped in dyed cloths, muffled
in soiled rags, with their heads resting on small bundles, with their
faces pressed to bent forearms: the men, the women, the children;
the old with the young, the decrepit with the lusty--all equal before
sleep, death's brother.

A draught of air, fanned from forward by the speed of the ship,
passed steadily through the long gloom between the high bulwarks,
swept over the rows of prone bodies; a few dim flames in globe-lamps
were hung short here and there under the ridge-poles, and in the
blurred circles of light thrown down and trembling slightly to the
unceasing vibration of the ship appeared a chin upturned, two closed
eyelids, a dark hand with silver rings, a meagre limb draped in a torn
covering, a head bent back, a naked foot, a throat bared and stretched
as if offering itself to the knife. The well-to-do had made for their
families shelters with heavy boxes and dusty mats; the poor reposed
side by side with all they had on earth tied up in a rag under their
heads; the lone old men slept, with drawn-up legs, upon their
prayer-carpets, with their hands over their ears and one elbow on each
side of the face; a father, his shoulders up and his knees under his
forehead, dozed dejectedly by a boy who slept on his back with tousled
hair and one arm commandingly extended; a woman covered from head
to foot, like a corpse, with a piece of white sheeting, had a naked
child in the hollow of each arm; the Arab's belongings, piled right
aft, made a heavy mound of broken outlines, with a cargo-lamp swung
above, and a great confusion of vague forms behind: gleams of paunchy
brass pots, the foot-rest of a deck-chair, blades of spears, the
straight scabbard of an old sword leaning against a heap of pillows,
the spout of a tin coffee-pot. The patent log on the taffrail periodically
rang a single tinkling stroke for every mile traversed on an errand of
faith. Above the mass of sleepers a faint and patient sigh at times
floated, the exhalation of a troubled dream; and short metallic
clangs bursting out suddenly in the depths of the ship, the harsh
scrape of a shovel, the violent slam of a furnace-door, exploded brutally,
as if the men handling the mysterious things below had their breasts
full of fierce anger: while the slim high hull of the steamer went on
evenly ahead, without a sway of her bare masts, cleaving continuously
the great calm of the waters under the inaccessible serenity of the sky.

Jim paced athwart, and his footsteps in the vast silence were loud
to his own ears, as if echoed by the watchful stars: his eyes, roaming
about the line of the horizon, seemed to gaze hungrily into the
unattainable, and did not see the shadow of the coming event. The
only shadow on the sea was the shadow of the black smoke pouring
heavily from the funnel its immense streamer, whose end was constantly
dissolving in the air. Two Malays, silent and almost motionless,
steered, one on each side of the wheel, whose brass rim shone
fragmentarily in the oval of light thrown out by the binnacle. Now
and then a hand, with black fingers alternately letting go and catching
hold of revolving spokes, appeared in the illumined part; the links
of wheel-chains ground heavily in the grooves of the barrel. Jim
would glance at the compass, would glance around the unattainable
horizon, would stretch himself till his joints cracked, with a
leisurely twist of the body, in the very excess of well-being; and, as
if made audacious by the invincible aspect of the peace, he felt he
cared for nothing that could happen to him to the end of his days.
From time to time he glanced idly at a chart pegged out with four
drawing-pins on a low three-legged table abaft the steering-gear
case. The sheet of paper portraying the depths of the sea presented
a shiny surface under the light of a bull's-eye lamp lashed to a
stanchion, a surface as level and smooth as the glimmering surface
of the waters. Parallel rulers with a pair of dividers reposed on it;
the ship's position at last noon was marked with a small black cross,
and the straight pencil-line drawn firmly as far as Perim figured the
course of the ship--the path of souls towards the holy place, the
promise of salvation, the reward of eternal life--while the pencil
with its sharp end touching the Somali coast lay round and still like
a naked ship's spar floating in the pool of a sheltered dock. 'How
steady she goes,' thought Jim with wonder, with something like
gratitude for this high peace of sea and sky. At such times his
thoughts would be full of valorous deeds: he loved these dreams
and the success of his imaginary achievements. They were the best
parts of life, its secret truth, its hidden reality. They had a gorgeous
virility, the charm of vagueness, they passed before him with an
heroic tread; they carried his soul away with them and made it
drunk with the divine philtre of an unbounded confidence in itself.
There was nothing he could not face. He was so pleased with the
idea that he smiled, keeping perfunctorily his eyes ahead; and when
he happened to glance back he saw the white streak of the wake
drawn as straight by the ship's keel upon the sea as the black line
drawn by the pencil upon the chart.

The ash-buckets racketed, clanking up and down the stoke-hold
ventilators, and this tin-pot clatter warned him the end of his watch
was near. He sighed with content, with regret as well at having to
part from that serenity which fostered the adventurous freedom of
his thoughts. He was a little sleepy too, and felt a pleasurable languor
running through every limb as though all the blood in his body
had turned to warm milk. His skipper had come up noiselessly, in
pyjamas and with his sleeping-jacket flung wide open. Red of face,
only half awake, the left eye partly closed, the right staring stupid
and glassy, he hung his big head over the chart and scratched his
ribs sleepily. There was something obscene in the sight of his naked
flesh. His bared breast glistened soft and greasy as though he had
sweated out his fat in his sleep. He pronounced a professional
remark in a voice harsh and dead, resembling the rasping sound of
a wood-file on the edge of a plank; the fold of his double chin hung
like a bag triced up close under the hinge of his jaw. Jim started,
and his answer was full of deference; but the odious and fleshy
figure, as though seen for the first time in a revealing moment, fixed
itself in his memory for ever as the incarnation of everything vile
and base that lurks in the world we love: in our own hearts we trust
for our salvation, in the men that surround us, in the sights that fill
our eyes, in the sounds that fill our ears, and in the air that fills
our lungs.

The thin gold shaving of the moon floating slowly downwards had lost
itself on the darkened surface of the waters, and the eternity
beyond the sky seemed to come down nearer to the earth, with the
augmented glitter of the stars, with the more profound sombreness
in the lustre of the half-transparent dome covering the flat disc of
an opaque sea. The ship moved so smoothly that her onward motion
was imperceptible to the senses of men, as though she had been a
crowded planet speeding through the dark spaces of ether behind
the swarm of suns, in the appalling and calm solitudes awaiting the
breath of future creations. 'Hot is no name for it down below,' said
a voice.

Jim smiled without looking round. The skipper presented an unmoved
breadth of back: it was the renegade's trick to appear pointedly
unaware of your existence unless it suited his purpose to turn at
you with a devouring glare before he let loose a torrent of foamy,
abusive jargon that came like a gush from a sewer. Now he
emitted only a sulky grunt; the second engineer at the head of
the bridge-ladder, kneading with damp palms a dirty sweat-rag,
unabashed, continued the tale of his complaints. The sailors had a
good time of it up here, and what was the use of them in the world
he would be blowed if he could see. The poor devils of engineers
had to get the ship along anyhow, and they could very well do the
rest too; by gosh they--'Shut up!' growled the German stolidly.
'Oh yes! Shut up--and when anything goes wrong you fly to us,
don't you?' went on the other. He was more than half cooked, he
expected; but anyway, now, he did not mind how much he sinned,
because these last three days he had passed through a fine course of
training for the place where the bad boys go when they die--b'gosh,
he had--besides being made jolly well deaf by the blasted racket
below. The durned, compound, surface-condensing, rotten scrap-heap
rattled and banged down there like an old deck-winch, only more
so; and what made him risk his life every night and day that God
made amongst the refuse of a breaking-up yard flying round at
fifty-seven revolutions, was more than _he_ could tell. He must have
been born reckless, b'gosh. He . . . 'Where did you get drink?'
inquired the German, very savage; but motionless in the light of
the binnacle, like a clumsy effigy of a man cut out of a block of fat.
Jim went on smiling at the retreating horizon; his heart was full of
generous impulses, and his thought was contemplating his own
superiority. 'Drink!' repeated the engineer with amiable scorn: he
was hanging on with both hands to the rail, a shadowy figure with
flexible legs. 'Not from you, captain. You're far too mean, b'gosh.
You would let a good man die sooner than give him a drop of
schnapps. That's what you Germans call economy. Penny wise,
pound foolish.' He became sentimental. The chief had given him a
four-finger nip about ten o'clock--'only one, s'elp me!'--good old
chief; but as to getting the old fraud out of his bunk--a five-ton
crane couldn't do it. Not it. Not to-night anyhow. He was sleeping
sweetly like a little child, with a bottle of prime brandy under his
pillow. From the thick throat of the commander of the Patna came
a low rumble, on which the sound of the word schwein fluttered
high and low like a capricious feather in a faint stir of air. He and
the chief engineer had been cronies for a good few years--serving
the same jovial, crafty, old Chinaman, with horn-rimmed goggles
and strings of red silk plaited into the venerable grey hairs of his
pigtail. The quay-side opinion in the Patna's home-port was that
these two in the way of brazen peculation 'had done together pretty
well everything you can think of.' Outwardly they were badly matched:
one dull-eyed, malevolent, and of soft fleshy curves; the other
lean, all hollows, with a head long and bony like the head of an old
horse, with sunken cheeks, with sunken temples, with an indifferent
glazed glance of sunken eyes. He had been stranded out East
somewhere--in Canton, in Shanghai, or perhaps in Yokohama; he
probably did not care to remember himself the exact locality, nor
yet the cause of his shipwreck. He had been, in mercy to his youth,
kicked quietly out of his ship twenty years ago or more, and it
might have been so much worse for him that the memory of the episode
had in it hardly a trace of misfortune. Then, steam navigation
expanding in these seas and men of his craft being scarce at first,
he had 'got on' after a sort. He was eager to let strangers know
in a dismal mumble that he was 'an old stager out here.' When he
moved, a skeleton seemed to sway loose in his clothes; his walk
was mere wandering, and he was given to wander thus around the
engine-room skylight, smoking, without relish, doctored tobacco
in a brass bowl at the end of a cherrywood stem four feet long, with
the imbecile gravity of a thinker evolving a system of philosophy
from the hazy glimpse of a truth. He was usually anything but free
with his private store of liquor; but on that night he had departed
from his principles, so that his second, a weak-headed child of
Wapping, what with the unexpectedness of the treat and the strength
of the stuff, had become very happy, cheeky, and talkative. The
fury of the New South Wales German was extreme; he puffed like an
exhaust-pipe, and Jim, faintly amused by the scene, was impatient
for the time when he could get below: the last ten minutes of the
watch were irritating like a gun that hangs fire; those men did not
belong to the world of heroic adventure; they weren't bad chaps
though. Even the skipper himself . . . His gorge rose at the mass
of panting flesh from which issued gurgling mutters, a cloudy
trickle of filthy expressions; but he was too pleasurably languid
to dislike actively this or any other thing. The quality of these
men did not matter; he rubbed shoulders with them, but they
could not touch him; he shared the air they breathed, but he was
different. . . . Would the skipper go for the engineer? . . .
The life was easy and he was too sure of himself--too sure
of himself to . . . The line dividing his meditation from a
surreptitious doze on his feet was thinner than a thread in a
spider's web.

The second engineer was coming by easy transitions to the
consideration of his finances and of his courage.

'Who's drunk? I? No, no, captain! That won't do. You ought to
know by this time the chief ain't free-hearted enough to make a
sparrow drunk, b'gosh. I've never been the worse for liquor in my
life; the stuff ain't made yet that would make _me_ drunk. I could
drink liquid fire against your whisky peg for peg, b'gosh, and keep
as cool as a cucumber. If I thought I was drunk I would jump
overboard--do away with myself, b'gosh. I would! Straight! And
I won't go off the bridge. Where do you expect me to take the air
on a night like this, eh? On deck amongst that vermin down there?
Likely--ain't it! And I am not afraid of anything you can do.'

The German lifted two heavy fists to heaven and shook them a
little without a word.

'I don't know what fear is,' pursued the engineer, with the
enthusiasm of sincere conviction. 'I am not afraid of doing all the
bloomin' work in this rotten hooker, b'gosh! And a jolly good thing
for you that there are some of us about the world that aren't afraid
of their lives, or where would you be--you and this old thing here
with her plates like brown paper--brown paper, s'elp me? It's all
very fine for you--you get a power of pieces out of her one way and
another; but what about me--what do I get? A measly hundred and
fifty dollars a month and find yourself. I wish to ask you
respectfully--respectfully, mind--who wouldn't chuck a dratted job like
this? 'Tain't safe, s'elp me, it ain't! Only I am one of them fearless
fellows . . .'

He let go the rail and made ample gestures as if demonstrating
in the air the shape and extent of his valour; his thin voice darted
in prolonged squeaks upon the sea, he tiptoed back and forth for
the better emphasis of utterance, and suddenly pitched down head-first
as though he had been clubbed from behind. He said 'Damn!' as he
tumbled; an instant of silence followed upon his screeching:
Jim and the skipper staggered forward by common accord, and
catching themselves up, stood very stiff and still gazing, amazed,
at the undisturbed level of the sea. Then they looked upwards at
the stars.

What had happened? The wheezy thump of the engines went on. Had the
earth been checked in her course? They could not understand; and
suddenly the calm sea, the sky without a cloud, appeared formidably
insecure in their immobility, as if poised on the brow of yawning
destruction. The engineer rebounded vertically full length and
collapsed again into a vague heap. This heap said 'What's that?' in
the muffled accents of profound grief. A faint noise as of thunder,
of thunder infinitely remote, less than a sound, hardly more than a
vibration, passed slowly, and the ship quivered in response, as if
the thunder had growled deep down in the water. The eyes of the two
Malays at the wheel glittered towards the white men, but their dark
hands remained closed on the spokes. The sharp hull driving on its
way seemed to rise a few inches in succession through its whole
length, as though it had become pliable, and settled down again
rigidly to its work of cleaving the smooth surface of the sea.
Its quivering stopped, and the faint noise of thunder ceased all
at once, as though the ship had steamed across a narrow belt of
vibrating water and of humming air. _

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