some reminiscences-第28节

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spirit　of　gossiping　idleness。　　For　myself；　I　was　in　no　haste　to



leave　that　room。　　Not　in　the　least。　　The　era　of　examinations　was



over。　　I　would　never　again　see　that　friendly　man　who　was　a



professional　ancestor；　a　sort　of　grandfather　in　the　craft。



Moreover；　I　had　to　wait　till　he　dismissed　me；　and　of　that　there



was　no　sign。　　As　he　remained　silent；　looking　at　me；　I　added：







〃But　I　have　heard　of　one；　some　years　ago。　　He　seems　to　have　been



a　boy　serving　his　time　on　board　a　Liverpool　ship；　if　I　am　not



mistaken。〃







〃What　was　his　name？〃







I　told　him。







〃How　did　you　say　that？〃　he　asked；　puckering　up　his　eyes　at　the



uncouth　sound。







I　repeated　the　name　very　distinctly。







〃How　do　you　spell　it？〃







I　told　him。　　He　moved　his　head　at　the　impracticable　nature　of



that　name；　and　observed：







〃It's　quite　as　long　as　your　ownisn't　it？〃







There　was　no　hurry。　　I　had　passed　for　Master；　and　I　had　all　the



rest　of　my　life　before　me　to　make　the　best　of　it。　　That　seemed　a



long　time。　　I　went　leisurely　through　a　small　mental　calculation；



and　said：







〃Not　quite。　　Shorter　by　two　letters；　sir。〃







〃Is　it？〃　　The　examiner　pushed　the　signed　blue　slip　across　the



table　to　me；　and　rose　from　his　chair。　　Somehow　this　seemed　a　very



abrupt　ending　of　our　relations；　and　I　felt　almost　sorry　to　part



from　that　excellent　man；　who　was　master　of　a　ship　before　the



whisper　of　the　sea　had　reached　my　cradle。　He　offered　me　his　hand



and　wished　me　well。　　He　even　made　a　few　steps　towards　the　door



with　me；　and　ended　with　good…natured　advice。







〃I　don't　know　what　may　be　your　plans　but　you　ought　to　go　into



steam。　　When　a　man　has　got　his　master's　certificate　it's　the



proper　time。　　If　I　were　you　I　would　go　into　steam。〃







I　thanked　him；　and　shut　the　door　behind　me　definitely　on　the　era



of　examinations。　　But　that　time　I　did　not　walk　on　air；　as　on　the



first　two　occasions。　　I　walked　across　the　Hill　of　many　beheadings



with　measured　steps。　　It　was　a　fact；　I　said　to　myself；　that　I　was



now　a　British　master　mariner　beyond　a　doubt。　　It　was　not　that　I



had　an　exaggerated　sense　of　that　very　modest　achievement；　with



which；　however；　luck；　opportunity；　or　any　extraneous　influence



could　have　had　nothing　to　do。　　That　fact；　satisfactory　and



obscure　in　itself；　had　for　me　a　certain　ideal　significance。　　It



was　an　answer　to　certain　outspoken　scepticism；　and　even　to　some



not　very　kind　aspersions。　　I　had　vindicated　myself　from　what　had



been　cried　upon　as　a　stupid　obstinacy　or　a　fantastic　caprice。　　I



don't　mean　to　say　that　a　whole　country　had　been　convulsed　by　my



desire　to　go　to　sea。　　But　for　a　boy　between　fifteen　and　sixteen；



sensitive　enough；　in　all　conscience；　the　commotion　of　his　little



world　had　seemed　a　very　considerable　thing　indeed。　　So



considerable　that；　absurdly　enough；　the　echoes　of　it　linger　to



this　day。　　I　catch　myself　in　hours　of　solitude　and　retrospect



meeting　arguments　and　charges　made　thirty…five　years　ago　by



voices　now　for　ever　still；　finding　things　to　say　that　an　assailed



boy　could　not　have　found；　simply　because　of　the　mysteriousness　of



his　impulses　to　himself。　　I　understood　no　more　than　the　people



who　called　upon　me　to　explain　myself。　　There　was　no　precedent。　　I



verily　believe　mine　was　the　only　case　of　a　boy　of　my　nationality



and　antecedents　taking　a；　so　to　speak；　standing　jump　out　of　his



racial　surroundings　and　associations。　　For　you　must　understand



that　there　was　no　idea　of　any　sort　of　〃career〃　in　my　call。　　Of



Russia　or　Germany　there　could　be　no　question。　　The　nationality；



the　antecedents；　made　it　impossible。　　The　feeling　against　the



Austrian　service　was　not　so　strong；　and　I　dare　say　there　would



have　been　no　difficulty　in　finding　my　way　into　the　Naval　School



at　Pola。　　It　would　have　meant　six　months'　extra　grinding　at



German；　perhaps；　but　I　was　not　past　the　age　of　admission；　and　in



other　respects　I　was　well　qualified。　　This　expedient　to　palliate



my　folly　was　thought　ofbut　not　by　me。　　I　must　admit　that　in



that　respect　my　negative　was　accepted　at　once。　　That　order　of



feeling　was　comprehensible　enough　to　the　most　inimical　of　my



critics。　　I　was　not　called　upon　to　offer　explanations；　the　truth



is　that　what　I　had　in　view　was　not　a　naval　career；　but　the　sea。



There　seemed　no　way　open　to　it　but　through　France。　　I　had　the



language　at　any　rate；　and　of　all　the　countries　in　Europe　it　is



with　France　that　Poland　has　most　connection。　　There　were　some



facilities　for　having　me　a　little　looked　after；　at　first。



Letters　were　being　written；　answers　were　being　received；



arrangements　were　being　made　for　my　departure　for　Marseilles；



where　an　excellent　fellow　called　Solary；　got　at　in　a　roundabout



fashion　through　various　French　channels；　had　promised　good…



naturedly　to　put　le　jeune　homme　in　the　way　of　getting　a　decent



ship　for　his　first　start　if　he　really　wanted　a　taste　of　ce　metier



de　chien。







I　watched　all　these　preparations　gratefully；　and　kept　my　own



counsel。　　But　what　I　told　the　last　of　my　examiners　was　perfectly



true。　　Already　the　determined　resolve；　that　〃if　a　seaman；　then　an



English　seaman；〃　was　formulated　in　my　head　though；　of　course；　in



the　Polish　language。　　I　did　not　know　six　words　of　English；　and　I



was　astute　enough　to　understand　that　it　was　much　better　to　say



nothing　of　my　purpose。　　As　it　was　I　was　already　looked　upon　as



partly　insane；　at　least　by　the　more　distant　acquaintances。　The



principal　thing　was　to　get　away。　　I　put　my　trust　in　the　good…



natured　Solary's　very　civil　letter　to　my　uncle；　though　I　was



shocked　a　little　by　the　phrase　about　the　metier　de　chien。







This　Solary　（Baptistin）；　when　I　beheld　him　in　the　flesh；　turned



out　a　quite　young　man；　very　good…looking；　with　a　fine　black；



short　beard；　a　fresh　complexion；　and　soft；　merry　black　eyes。　　He



was　as　jovial　and　good…natured　as　any　boy　could　desire。　　I　was



still　asleep　in　my　room　in　a　modest　hotel　near　the　quays　of　the



old　port；　after　the　fatigues　of　the　journey　via　Vienna；　Zurich；



Lyons；　when　he　burst　in　flinging　the　shutters　open　to　the　sun　of



Provence　and　chiding　me　boisterously　for　lying　abed。　　How



pleasantly　he　startled　me　by　his　noisy　objurgations　to　be　up　and



off　instantly　for　a　〃three　years'　campaign　in　the　South　Seas。〃　　O



magic　words！　　Une　campagne　de　trois　ans　dans　les　mers　du　sud〃



that　is　the　French　for　a　three　years'　deep…water　voyage。







He　gave　me　a　delightful　waking；　and　his　friendliness　was



unwearied；　but　I　fear　he　did　not　enter　upon　the　quest　for　a　ship



for　me　in　a　very　solemn　spirit。　　He　had　been　at　sea　himself；　but



had　left　off　at　the　age　of　twenty…five；　finding　he　could　earn　his



living　on　shore　in　a　much　more　agreeable　manner。　　He　was　related



to　an　incredible　number　of　Marseilles　well…to…do　families　of　a



certain　class。　　One　of　his　uncles　was　a　ship…broker　of　good



standing；　with　a　large　connection　amongst　English　ships；　other



relatives　of　his　dealt　in　ships'　stores；　owned　sail…lofts；　sold



chains　and　anchors；　were　master…stevedores；　caulkers；



shipwrights。　　His　grandfather　（I　think）　was　a　dignitary　of　a



kind；　the　Syndic　of　the　Pilots。　　I　made　acquaintances　amongst



these　people；　but　mainly　amongst　the　pilots。　　The　very　first



whole　day　I　ever　spent　on　salt　water　was　by　invitation；　in　a　big



half…decked　pilot…boat；　cruising　under　close　reefs　on　the　look…



out；　in　misty；　blowing　weather；　for　the　sails　of　ships　and　the



smoke　of　steamers　rising　out　there；　beyond　the　slim　and　tall



Planier　lighthouse　cutting　the　line　of　the　wind…swept　horizon



with　a　white　perpendicular　stroke。　　They　were　hospitable　souls；



these　sturdy　Provencal　seamen。　　Under　the　general　designation　of



le　petit　ami　de　Baptistin　I　was　made　the　guest　of　the　Corporation



of　Pilots；　and　had　the　freedom　of　their　boats　night　or　day。　　And



many　a　day　and　a　night　too　did　I　spend　cruising　with　these　rough；



kindly　men；　under　whose　auspices　my　intimacy　with　the　sea　began。



Many　a　time　〃the　little　friend　of　Baptistin〃　had　the　hooded　cloak



of　the　Mediterranean　sailor　thrown　over　him　by　their　honest　hands



while　dodging　at　night　under　the　lee　of　Chateau　d'If　on　the　watch



for　the　lights　of　ships。　　Their　sea…tanned　faces；　whiskered　or



shaved；　lean　or　full；　with　the　intent　wrinkled　sea…eyes　of　the



pilot…breed；　and　here　and　there　a　thin　gold　hoop　at　the　lobe　of　a



hairy　ear；　bent　over　my　sea…infancy。　　The　first　operation　of



seamanship　I　had　an　opportunity　of　observing　was　the　bo