the mirror of the sea-第19部分

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administer　his　possessions　does　not　commend　itself　to　a　person　of



peaceful　and　law…abiding　disposition；　inclined　to　draw　distinctions



between　right　and　wrong　in　the　face　of　natural　forces；　whose



standard；　naturally；　is　that　of　might　alone。　　But；　of　course；　I



said　nothing。　　For　a　man　caught；　as　it　were；　between　his　skipper



and　the　great　West　Wind　silence　is　the　safest　sort　of　diplomacy。



Moreover；　I　knew　my　skipper。　　He　did　not　want　to　know　what　I



thought。　　Shipmasters　hanging　on　a　breath　before　the　thrones　of　the



winds　ruling　the　seas　have　their　psychology；　whose　workings　are　as



important　to　the　ship　and　those　on　board　of　her　as　the　changing



moods　of　the　weather。　　The　man；　as　a　matter　of　fact；　under　no



circumstances；　ever　cared　a　brass　farthing　for　what　I　or　anybody



else　in　his　ship　thought。　　He　had　had　just　about　enough　of　it；　I



guessed；　and　what　he　was　at　really　was　a　process　of　fishing　for　a



suggestion。　　It　was　the　pride　of　his　life　that　he　had　never　wasted



a　chance；　no　matter　how　boisterous；　threatening；　and　dangerous；　of



a　fair　wind。　　Like　men　racing　blindfold　for　a　gap　in　a　hedge；　we



were　finishing　a　splendidly　quick　passage　from　the　Antipodes；　with



a　tremendous　rush　for　the　Channel　in　as　thick　a　weather　as　any　I



can　remember；　but　his　psychology　did　not　permit　him　to　bring　the



ship　to　with　a　fair　wind　blowing　…　at　least　not　on　his　own



initiative。　　And　yet　he　felt　that　very　soon　indeed　something　would



have　to　be　done。　　He　wanted　the　suggestion　to　come　from　me；　so　that



later　on；　when　the　trouble　was　over；　he　could　argue　this　point　with



his　own　uncompromising　spirit；　laying　the　blame　upon　my　shoulders。



I　must　render　him　the　justice　that　this　sort　of　pride　was　his　only



weakness。







But　he　got　no　suggestion　from　me。　　I　understood　his　psychology。



Besides；　I　had　my　own　stock　of　weaknesses　at　the　time　（it　is　a



different　one　now）；　and　amongst　them　was　the　conceit　of　being



remarkably　well　up　in　the　psychology　of　the　Westerly　weather。　　I



believed　…　not　to　mince　matters　…　that　I　had　a　genius　for　reading



the　mind　of　the　great　ruler　of　high　latitudes。　　I　fancied　I　could



discern　already　the　coming　of　a　change　in　his　royal　mood。　　And　all



I　said　was：







〃The　weather's　bound　to　clear　up　with　the　shift　of　wind。〃







〃Anybody　knows　that　much！〃　he　snapped　at　me；　at　the　highest　pitch



of　his　voice。







〃I　mean　before　dark！〃　I　cried。







This　was　all　the　opening　he　ever　got　from　me。　　The　eagerness　with



which　he　seized　upon　it　gave　me　the　measure　of　the　anxiety　he　had



been　labouring　under。







〃Very　well；〃　he　shouted；　with　an　affectation　of　impatience；　as　if



giving　way　to　long　entreaties。　　〃All　right。　　If　we　don't　get　a



shift　by　then　we'll　take　that　foresail　off　her　and　put　her　head



under　her　wing　for　the　night。〃







I　was　struck　by　the　picturesque　character　of　the　phrase　as　applied



to　a　ship　brought…to　in　order　to　ride　out　a　gale　with　wave　after



wave　passing　under　her　breast。　　I　could　see　her　resting　in　the



tumult　of　the　elements　like　a　sea…bird　sleeping　in　wild　weather



upon　the　raging　waters　with　its　head　tucked　under　its　wing。　　In



imaginative　precision；　in　true　feeling；　this　is　one　of　the　most



expressive　sentences　I　have　ever　heard　on　human　lips。　　But　as　to



taking　the　foresail　off　that　ship　before　we　put　her　head　under　her



wing；　I　had　my　grave　doubts。　　They　were　justified。　　That　long



enduring　piece　of　canvas　was　confiscated　by　the　arbitrary　decree　of



the　West　Wind；　to　whom　belong　the　lives　of　men　and　the　contrivances



of　their　hands　within　the　limits　of　his　kingdom。　　With　the　sound　of



a　faint　explosion　it　vanished　into　the　thick　weather　bodily；



leaving　behind　of　its　stout　substance　not　so　much　as　one　solitary



strip　big　enough　to　be　picked　into　a　handful　of　lint　for；　say；　a



wounded　elephant。　　Torn　out　of　its　bolt…ropes；　it　faded　like　a



whiff　of　smoke　in　the　smoky　drift　of　clouds　shattered　and　torn　by



the　shift　of　wind。　　For　the　shift　of　wind　had　come。　　The　unveiled；



low　sun　glared　angrily　from　a　chaotic　sky　upon　a　confused　and



tremendous　sea　dashing　itself　upon　a　coast。　　We　recognised　the



headland；　and　looked　at　each　other　in　the　silence　of　dumb　wonder。



Without　knowing　it　in　the　least；　we　had　run　up　alongside　the　Isle



of　Wight；　and　that　tower；　tinged　a　faint　evening　red　in　the　salt



wind…haze；　was　the　lighthouse　on　St。　Catherine's　Point。







My　skipper　recovered　first　from　his　astonishment。　　His　bulging　eyes



sank　back　gradually　into　their　orbits。　　His　psychology；　taking　it



all　round；　was　really　very　creditable　for　an　average　sailor。　　He



had　been　spared　the　humiliation　of　laying　his　ship　to　with　a　fair



wind；　and　at　once　that　man；　of　an　open　and　truthful　nature；　spoke



up　in　perfect　good　faith；　rubbing　together　his　brown；　hairy　hands　…



the　hands　of　a　master…craftsman　upon　the　sea：







〃Humph！　that's　just　about　where　I　reckoned　we　had　got　to。〃







The　transparency　and　ingenuousness；　in　a　way；　of　that　delusion；　the



airy　tone；　the　hint　of　already　growing　pride；　were　perfectly



delicious。　　But；　in　truth；　this　was　one　of　the　greatest　surprises



ever　sprung　by　the　clearing　up　mood　of　the　West　Wind　upon　one　of



the　most　accomplished　of　his　courtiers。















XXVIII。















The　winds　of　North　and　South　are；　as　I　have　said；　but　small　princes



amongst　the　powers　of　the　sea。　　They　have　no　territory　of　their



own；　they　are　not　reigning　winds　anywhere。　　Yet　it　is　from　their



houses　that　the　reigning　dynasties　which　have　shared　between　them



the　waters　of　the　earth　are　sprung。　　All　the　weather　of　the　world



is　based　upon　the　contest　of　the　Polar　and　Equatorial　strains　of



that　tyrannous　race。　　The　West　Wind　is　the　greatest　king。　　The　East



rules　between　the　Tropics。　　They　have　shared　each　ocean　between



them。　　Each　has　his　genius　of　supreme　rule。　　The　King　of　the　West



never　intrudes　upon　the　recognised　dominion　of　his　kingly　brother。



He　is　a　barbarian；　of　a　northern　type。　　Violent　without　craftiness；



and　furious　without　malice；　one　may　imagine　him　seated　masterfully



with　a　double…edged　sword　on　his　knees　upon　the　painted　and　gilt



clouds　of　the　sunset；　bowing　his　shock　head　of　golden　locks；　a



flaming　beard　over　his　breast；　imposing；　colossal；　mighty…limbed；



with　a　thundering　voice；　distended　cheeks　and　fierce　blue　eyes；



urging　the　speed　of　his　gales。　　The　other；　the　East　king；　the　king



of　blood…red　sunrises；　I　represent　to　myself　as　a　spare　Southerner



with　clear…cut　features；　black…browed　and　dark…eyed；　gray…robed；



upright　in　sunshine；　resting　a　smooth…shaven　cheek　in　the　palm　of



his　hand；　impenetrable；　secret；　full　of　wiles；　fine…drawn；　keen　…



meditating　aggressions。







The　West　Wind　keeps　faith　with　his　brother；　the　King　of　the



Easterly　weather。　　〃What　we　have　divided　we　have　divided；〃　he　seems



to　say　in　his　gruff　voice；　this　ruler　without　guile；　who　hurls　as



if　in　sport　enormous　masses　of　cloud　across　the　sky；　and　flings　the



great　waves　of　the　Atlantic　clear　across　from　the　shores　of　the　New



World　upon　the　hoary　headlands　of　Old　Europe；　which　harbours　more



kings　and　rulers　upon　its　seamed　and　furrowed　body　than　all　the



oceans　of　the　world　together。　　〃What　we　have　divided　we　have



divided；　and　if　no　rest　and　peace　in　this　world　have　fallen　to　my



share；　leave　me　alone。　　Let　me　play　at　quoits　with　cyclonic　gales；



flinging　the　discs　of　spinning　cloud　and　whirling　air　from　one　end



of　my　dismal　kingdom　to　the　other：　　over　the　Great　Banks　or　along



the　edges　of　pack…ice　…　this　one　with　true　aim　right　into　the　bight



of　the　Bay　of　Biscay；　that　other　upon　the　fiords　of　Norway；　across



the　North　Sea　where　the　fishermen　of　many　nations　look　watchfully



into　my　angry　eye。　　This　is　the　time　of　kingly　sport。〃







And　the　royal　master　of　high　latitudes　sighs　mightily；　with　the



sinking　sun　upon　his　breast　and　the　double…edged　sword　upon　his



knees；　as　if　wearied　by　the　innumerable　centuries　of　a　strenuous



rule　and　saddened　by　the　unchangeable　aspect　of　the　ocean　under　his



feet　…　by　the　endless　vista　of　future　ages　where　the　work　of　sowing



the　wind　and　reaping　the　whirlwind　shall　go　on　and　on　till　his



realm　of　living　waters　becomes　a　frozen　and　motionless　ocean。　　But



the　other；　crafty　and　unmoved；　nursing　his　shaven　chin　between　the



thumb　and　forefinger　of　his　slim　and　treacherous　hand；　thinks　deep



within　his　heart　full　of　guile：　　〃Aha！　our　brother　of　the　West　has



fallen　into　the　mood　of　kingly　melancholy。　　He　is　tired　of　playing



with　circular　gales；　and　blowing　great　guns；　and　unrolling　thick



streamers　of　fog　in　wanton　sport　at　the　cost　of　his　own　poor；



miserable　subjects。　　Their　fate　is　most　pitiful。　　Let　us　make　a



foray　upon　the　dominions　of　that　noisy　barbarian；　a　great　raid　from