Chance - A Tale in Two Parts

ort: the unusual in marital relations. I may well have doubted the capacity of a young man too much concerned with the creditable performance of his professional duties to observe what in the natu

d have the opportunity to show her some small attentions on deck. And that is all. Under such conditions, signs can be seen only by a sharp and pr

age of that tragicomedy would have been perfectly useless for my purpose if

n asthmatic shadow of a ship-keeper, warned not to make a noise in the darkness of the passage because the captain and his wife were already on board. That in itself was already somewhat unusual. Captains and their wives do not, as a rule, join a moment sooner than is necessary. They prefer

he quiet satisfaction with which he thought that now all the worries were over, that there was nothing before him but duties, that he knew what he would have to do as soon as the dawn broke and for a long succession of days. A most soothing certitude. He enjoyed it in the dark, stretched out in

s. A knot of men stood alongside with clothes-bags and wooden chests at their feet. Others were coming down the lane between tall, blind walls, surrounding a hand-cart loaded with more bags and boxes. It was the crew of the Ferndal

bdued firm voice behind him interrupted this contemplation. It was Franklin, the thick chief mate, who was addressing him with a watchful apprai

looking at each other fixedly. Something like a faint smile altered the set o

ght and his excitement at this berth obtained as if by a brusque and unscrupulous miracle, did not count. He had then seemed to him much older and heavier. He was surprised at the lithe figure, broad of shoulder, narrow at the hips

et and a grey cap. In the light of the dawn, growing more limpid rather than brighter, Powell noticed the slightly s

nder shape, made for her quarter so gently that she did not divide the smooth water, but seemed to glide on its surface as if on a sheet of plate-glass, a man in her bow, the master at the wheel visible only from the waist upwards above the white screen of the bridge, both of them so still-eyed as to fascinate young Powell into curious self-forgetfulness and immobility. He was steeped, sunk in the general quietness, remembering the statement 'she's a lady that mustn't be disturbed,' and repeating to himself idly: 'No. She won't be disturbed. She won't be disturbed.' Then the first loud words of that morning breaking that strange hush of departure with a sharp hail: 'Look out for that line there,' made him start. The line whizzed past his head, one of the sailors aft caught it, and there was an end to the fascination, to the quietness of spirit which had stolen on

well, who had sailed out of London all his young seaman's life, told me that it was then, in a moment of entranced vision an hour or so after sunrise, that the river was revealed to him for all time, like a fair face often seen before, which is suddenly perceived to be the expression of an inner and unsuspected beauty, of that something unique

their breakfast, bo'sun," he went on, "and have the fire out in the galley in half an hour at the latest, so that we can call these barges of explosives alongside. Come along,

ware somehow that there was something marked in this inquisitiveness, natural, after all-something anxious.

u joined at one o'clock. I didn't sleep on board last night. Not I. There was a time when I never cared

oss the quarter-deck under the poop into the long passage with the door of the saloon at the far end. It was shut. But Mr. Frank

oremost skylight, and furnished only with a table and two settees with movable backs. "That surp

ing each other for the next twelve months or more-God knows how mu

th is somewhat short, and the spirit (young Powell could

m of the service, and then this sort of accent in the mate's talk. Franklin did not seem to expect conversational ease from the new second

Sad, very sad. Did you notice if the capta

but a youngster then) who could not remember any signs of visible grief, confessed with an embarrassed laugh that, ow

murmured, further disconcerted by the sort

holds true beyond mere victuals. I suppose it didn't occur to yo

o intention apparently to moralize. He did not fall silent either. His further remarks were to the effect that there had been a time when C

month later-about the same time as the steward by a few days. The bo'sun and the carpenter came the voyage after. Steady men. Still here. No good man need ever have thought of leaving the Fernda

was in the mess-room another listener. It was the steward, who had come in carrying a tin coffee-pot with a long handle, and stood quietly by: a man with a middle-aged, sallow face, long features, heavy eyelids, a soldierly

I am going to give breakfast to the saloon directly, a

turn his head freely, twisted his thick trunk slightly,

ous pair of them

mate's cup, muttered moodily but distinctly:

For of what other person could they be speaking? The steward added with a gloomy sort of fairness: "

then both he and the steward, after glancing at

frequently in men and perhaps more frequently in women-especially if a woman be in question; and that woman under a cloud, in a manner of speaking. For under a cloud Flora

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almost all women have all that-of their own kind. But they are not made for attack. Wait they must. I am speaking here of women who are really women. And it's no use talking of opportunities, either. I know that some of them do talk of it. But not the genuine wome

or like this? I wouldn't use an ill-sounding word about women, bu

sed a soot

hey cannot be is as reasonable as if mankind at large started asking for opportunities of winning immortality in this world, in which death is the very condition of life. You must understand that I am not talking here of material existence. That

ll, the chance second officer of the ship Ferndale, commanded (and for the most part owned) by Roderick Anthony, the son of the poet-you know. A Mr. Powell, much slenderer than our robust friend is now, with the bloom of innocence not quite rubbed off his smooth cheeks, and apt not only to be interested but

look with wonder at the past. And this persists even when from practice and through growing callousness of fibre we come to the point when nothing that we meet in that rapid blinking stumble across a flick of sunshine-which our life is-nothing, I say, which we run against surprises us any more. Not at the time, I mean

it, or, say, the fault, of defective mantelpiece clocks, of suddenly stopping in the very fulness of the tick. If you have ever lived with a clock afflicted with that

e ferreted out something comic i

that people laugh at absurdities that are very far from being comic? Didn't you read the lat

ense written about laughter-and tears, t

cacy of heart and of conduct, self-confidence, magnanimity are laughed at, because the presence of these traits in a man's character often puts him in

story; or has Mr. Powell discovered them to you in his artless talk? Have you two

nce at my banter. H

s-taken on board, main hatch battened for sea, cook restored to his functions in the galley, anchor fished and the tug ahead, rounding the South Foreland, and with the sun sinking clear and red down the purple vista of the channel, he went on the poop, on duty, it is true, but with time to take the first freer breath in the busy day of departure. The pilot was still on board, who gave him first a silent glance, and then passed an insignificant remark before resuming his lounging

light reflected from the level waters, themselves growing more sombre than the sky; a stare, across which Powell had to pass and did pass with a quick side glance, noting its immovable stillness.

ot turned out to be a good-natured specimen of his kind, condescending, sententi

the cabin at breakfast time. Name of Smith. Wonder if he has all his wits ab

d make sail on the ship. "I shall be leaving you in half an hour. You'll have p

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d man in a moment. The following days, in the interest of getting in touch with the ship, with the men in her, with his duties, i

mself from some sympathy for that thick, bald man, comically shaped, with his crimson complexion and something pathetic in the rol

observe the people around with friendly interest. Very early in the beginning of the passage, he had discovered with some amusement that the marriage o

he steward might have been more directly concerned. But the steward used to remark on occasion, 'Oh, she gives no extra trouble,' with scrupulous fairness of the most gloomy kind. He was rather a silent man with a great sense of his personal worth which made his speeches guarded. The cook, a

ect me to be pleased at being chucked out of the saloon as if I weren't good enough to sit down to meat with that woman.' But he hastened to add

more by repeating: 'Yes! You are too young to understand these things. I don't say you haven't plenty of sens

s like a drowsy comment on her progress. Mr. Powell expressed his satisfaction by a half-bashful laugh. The mate mused on: 'And of course you haven't known the ship as she used to be. She was more than a home to a man. She was not

being married, there could be no occasion for anxiety as to his condition. I suppose that to him life, perhaps not so much his own as that of others, was something still in the nature of a fairy-tale with a 'they lived happy ever after' termination. We are the creatures of our light literature much more than is generally suspected in a world which prides itself on being scientific and practical, and in possess

t believe the testimony of his eyes, made him open them very wide. He had stared till the captain's wife noticed it plainly and turned her face away. Captain's wife! That girl covered with rugs in a long chair. Captain's . . . ! He gasped mentally. It had never occurred to him that a captain's wife could be anything but a woman to be described as stout or thin, as jolly or crabbed, but always mature, and even, in comparison with his own years, fran

ed, smiling

I looked round for some woman which would be the captain's wife, though of course I knew there was no other woman on board that voyage." The voyage before, it seems, there had been the steward's wife to act as maid to Mrs. Anthony; but she was not taken that time for some reason he didn't know. Mr

e on duty. So, still with downcast eyes, he made his way past them. Only when he got as far as the wheel-grating did he look up. She was hidden from him by the back of her deck-chair; but he had the view of the owner of the thin, aged legs seated on the skylight, his clean-shaved cheek, his thin compressed mouth with a hollow in each corner, the sparse grey locks escaping from under the tweed cap, and curling slightly on the collar of the coat. He leaned forward a little over Mrs. Anthony, but they were not talking. Captain Anthony, walking with a springy hurried gait on the other side of the poop from end to end, gazed straight before him. Young Powell might have thought that his captain was not aware of his presence either. However, he knew better, and for that reason spent a most uncomfortable hour motionless by the compass before his captain stopped in his swift pacing and with an almost visible effort made some remark to him about the weather in a low voice

is wife and his wife's father. Those two got up and moved towards the companion, the old gent very erect, his thin locks stirring gently about the nape of his neck, and carrying the rugs over his arm. The girl who was Mrs. Anthony went down first. The murky twilight had settled in deep

ew second offi

ad a sort of inward look as though he had disliked or disdained his surroundings. The captain's wife had disappeared then

the man who was

idn't know anybody belonging

your age. Perhaps more. His hair

but the old man did not move aw

oam bursting out here and there in the gloomy distances, the unchangeable, safe sea sheltering a man from all passions, except its own anger, seemed queer to the quick glance he threw to windward where the already effaced horizon traced no reassuring limit to the eye. In the expiring, diffused twilight, and before the clouded night dropped its mysterious veil, it was t

'Unusual . . . Oh, you mean for an elderly man to be the second of a ship. I don'

little, had the air of lis

een taken to the

ber Captain Anthony saying

old man, in his careful deliberate to

t it was not very likely, as if defending the absent victim of the accident from an unkind aspersion. He felt, in fact, indignant. The other

mured, with that strange air of fearing to be

ficer of the Ferndale. He was alive to the slightest shade of tone, and felt as if this "I know the man" should have been followed

one's existence may not be altogether unwelcome. Of course there are stupid accidents. And even then one needn't be very angry. What is it to be depr

What do you mean? I don't understand." Then, with a low 'Good-night' glided a few steps, and sank through th

l adrift. This was funny talk and no mistake. And this cautious low tone as though he were watched by someone was more than funny. The young second officer hesitated to bre

t this gentleman

ade bold to add, "A queer fish, sir." This was tentative, and Mr. Powell, busy with his own view, not

ssengers?" asked

hese tw