I leaped up in the net, bouncing
like a circus acrobat. My book fell out of my hand into the sea.
I looked up, and saw fully half the crew grinning down at me. The mate
stood over me. A bucket that still dripped water in his hand showed me
where the water had come from.
"Come up out of there! The captain's been bawling for you for half an
hour ... we thought you'd gone overboard."
I came along the net, drenched and forlorn.
"What in hell were you doing down there?"
"I--I was thinking," I stammered.
"He was thinking," echoed the mate scornfully. "Well, thinking will
never make a sailor of you."
Boisterous laughter.
"After this do your thinking where we can find you when you're wanted."
As I walked aft, the mate went with me pace for pace, poking more fun at
me. To which I dared not answer, as I was impelled, because he was
strong and I was very frail ... and always, when on the verge of danger,
or a physical encounter, the memory of my Uncle Lan's beatings would now
crash into my memory like an earthquake, and render my resolution and
sinews all a-tremble and unstrung.
I was of a mind to tell the captain _who_ was drinking his liquor--but
here again I feared, and cursed myself for fearing.
When the mate told him of where he had found me, at last--what he had
done--what I had said--Schantze laughed....
But, later on, he sympathised with me and unexpectedly remarked:
"Johann, how can you expect a heavy-minded numbskull like Miller to
understand!"
Then, laughing, he seized me by the ear--his usual gesture of fondness
for me--
"Remember me if you ever write a book about this voyage, and don't give
me too black a name! I'm not so bad, am I, eh?"
* * * * *
The Australian coast had lain blue across the horizon for several days.
Pages:
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133