Chapter 10

The knowledge was too disturbing, really. There was "something wrong"
with a vengeance, and the moral certitude of it was at first simply
frightful to contemplate. Sterne had been looking aft in a mood so idle,
that for once he was thinking no harm of anyone. His captain on the
bridge presented himself naturally to his sight. How insignificant, how
casual was the thought that had started the train of discovery--like
an accidental spark that suffices to ignite the charge of a tremendous
mine!

Caught under by the breeze, the awnings of the foredeck bellied upwards
and collapsed slowly, and above their heavy flapping the gray stuff of
Captain Whalley's roomy coat fluttered incessantly around his arms and
trunk. He faced the wind in full light, with his great silvery beard
blown forcibly against his chest; the eyebrows overhung heavily the
shadows whence his glance appeared to be staring ahead piercingly.
Sterne could just detect the twin gleam of the whites shifting under the
shaggy arches of the brow. At short range these eyes, for all the man's
affable manner, seemed to look you through and through. Sterne never
could defend himself from that feeling when he had occasion to speak
with his captain. He did not like it. What a big heavy man he appeared
up there, with that little shrimp of a Serang in close attendance--as
was usual in this extraordinary steamer! Confounded absurd custom that.
He resented it. Surely the old fellow could have looked after his ship
without that loafing native at his elbow. Sterne wriggled his shoulders
with disgust. What was it? Indolence or what?

That old skipper must have been growing lazy for years. They all grew
lazy out East here (Sterne was very conscious of his own unimpaired
activity); they got slack all over. But he towered very erect on the
bridge; and quite low by his side, as you see a small child looking over
the edge of a table, the battered soft hat and the brown face of the
Serang peeped over the white canvas screen of the rail.

No doubt the Malay was standing back, nearer to the wheel; but the
great disparity of size in close association amused Sterne like the
observation of a bizarre fact in nature. They were as queer fish out of
the sea as any in it.

He saw Captain Whalley turn his head quickly to speak to his Serang;
the wind whipped the whole white mass of the beard sideways. He would
be directing the chap to look at the compass for him, or what not. Of
course. Too much trouble to step over and see for himself. Sterne's
scorn for that bodily indolence which overtakes white men in the East
increased on reflection. Some of them would be utterly lost if they
hadn't all these natives at their beck and call; they grew perfectly