Chapter 14 - Page 2

midnight. At ten he
was still chirruping and humming to himself on the bridge, and about
that time Mr. Van Wyk's thought abandoned the Sofala. Mr. Van Wyk had
fallen asleep at last.

Massy, blocking the engine-room companion, jerked himself into his tweed
jacket surlily, while the second waited with a scowl.

"Oh. You came out? You sot! Well, what have you got to say for
yourself?"

He had been in charge of the engines till then. A somber fury darkened
his mind: a hot anger against the ship, against the facts of life,
against the men for their cheating, against himself too--because of an
inward tremor of his heart.

An incomprehensible growl answered him.

"What? Can't you open your mouth now? You yelp out your infernal rot
loud enough when you are drunk. What do you mean by abusing people in
that way?--you old useless boozer, you!"

"Can't help it. Don't remember anything about it. You shouldn't listen."

"You dare to tell me! What do you mean by going on a drunk like this!"

"Don't ask me. Sick of the dam' boilers--you would be. Sick of life."

"I wish you were dead, then. You've made me sick of you. Don't you
remember the uproar you made last night? You miserable old soaker!"

"No; I don't. Don't want to. Drink is drink."

"I wonder what prevents me from kicking you out. What do you want here?"

"Relieve you. You've been long enough down there, George."

"Don't you George me--you tippling old rascal, you! If I were to die
to-morrow you would starve. Remember that. Say Mr. Massy."

"Mr. Massy," repeated the other stolidly.

Disheveled, with dull blood-shot eyes, a snuffy, grimy shirt, greasy
trowsers, naked feet thrust into ragged slippers, he bolted in head down
directly Massy had made way for him.

The chief engineer looked around. The deck was empty as far as the
taffrail. All the native passengers had left in Batu Beru this time, and
no others had joined. The dial of the patent log tinkled periodically
in the dark at the end of the ship. It was a dead calm, and, under the
clouded sky, through the still air that seemed to cling warm, with a
seaweed smell, to her slim hull, on a sea of somber gray and unwrinkled,
the ship moved on an even keel, as if floating detached in empty space.
But Mr. Massy slapped his forehead, tottered a little, caught hold of a
belaying-pin at the foot of the mast.

"I shall go mad," he muttered, walking across the deck unsteadily. A
shovel was scraping loose coal down below--a fire-door clanged. Sterne
on the bridge began whistling a new tune.

Captain Whalley, sitting on the