the mirror of the sea-第3部分

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passage。　　But　this　sort　of　sickness　used　to　pass　off　with　the　first



sight　of　a　familiar　landmark。　　Afterwards；　he　added；　as　he　grew



older；　all　that　nervousness　wore　off　completely；　and　I　observed　his



weary　eyes　gaze　steadily　ahead；　as　if　there　had　been　nothing



between　him　and　the　straight　line　of　sea　and　sky；　where　whatever　a



seaman　is　looking　for　is　first　bound　to　appear。　　But　I　have　also



seen　his　eyes　rest　fondly　upon　the　faces　in　the　room；　upon　the



pictures　on　the　wall；　upon　all　the　familiar　objects　of　that　home；



whose　abiding　and　clear　image　must　have　flashed　often　on　his　memory



in　times　of　stress　and　anxiety　at　sea。　　Was　he　looking　out　for　a



strange　Landfall；　or　taking　with　an　untroubled　mind　the　bearings



for　his　last　Departure？







It　is　hard　to　say；　for　in　that　voyage　from　which　no　man　returns



Landfall　and　Departure　are　instantaneous；　merging　together　into　one



moment　of　supreme　and　final　attention。　　Certainly　I　do　not　remember



observing　any　sign　of　faltering　in　the　set　expression　of　his　wasted



face；　no　hint　of　the　nervous　anxiety　of　a　young　commander　about　to



make　land　on　an　uncharted　shore。　　He　had　had　too　much　experience　of



Departures　and　Landfalls！　　And　had　he　not　〃served　his　time〃　in　the



famous　copper…ore　trade　out　of　the　Bristol　Channel；　the　work　of　the



staunchest　ships　afloat；　and　the　school　of　staunch　seamen？















IV。















Before　an　anchor　can　ever　be　raised；　it　must　be　let　go；　and　this



perfectly　obvious　truism　brings　me　at　once　to　the　subject　of　the



degradation　of　the　sea　language　in　the　daily　press　of　this　country。







Your　journalist；　whether　he　takes　charge　of　a　ship　or　a　fleet；



almost　invariably　〃casts〃　his　anchor。　　Now；　an　anchor　is　never



cast；　and　to　take　a　liberty　with　technical　language　is　a　crime



against　the　clearness；　precision；　and　beauty　of　perfected　speech。







An　anchor　is　a　forged　piece　of　iron；　admirably　adapted　to　its　end；



and　technical　language　is　an　instrument　wrought　into　perfection　by



ages　of　experience；　a　flawless　thing　for　its　purpose。　　An　anchor　of



yesterday　（because　nowadays　there　are　contrivances　like　mushrooms



and　things　like　claws；　of　no　particular　expression　or　shape　…　just



hooks）　…　an　anchor　of　yesterday　is　in　its　way　a　most　efficient



instrument。　　To　its　perfection　its　size　bears　witness；　for　there　is



no　other　appliance　so　small　for　the　great　work　it　has　to　do。　　Look



at　the　anchors　hanging　from　the　cat…heads　of　a　big　ship！　　How　tiny



they　are　in　proportion　to　the　great　size　of　the　hull！　　Were　they



made　of　gold　they　would　look　like　trinkets；　like　ornamental　toys；



no　bigger　in　proportion　than　a　jewelled　drop　in　a　woman's　ear。　　And



yet　upon　them　will　depend；　more　than　once；　the　very　life　of　the



ship。







An　anchor　is　forged　and　fashioned　for　faithfulness；　give　it　ground



that　it　can　bite；　and　it　will　hold　till　the　cable　parts；　and　then；



whatever　may　afterwards　befall　its　ship；　that　anchor　is　〃lost。〃



The　honest；　rough　piece　of　iron；　so　simple　in　appearance；　has　more



parts　than　the　human　body　has　limbs：　　the　ring；　the　stock；　the



crown；　the　flukes；　the　palms；　the　shank。　　All　this；　according　to



the　journalist；　is　〃cast〃　when　a　ship　arriving　at　an　anchorage　is



brought　up。







This　insistence　in　using　the　odious　word　arises　from　the　fact　that



a　particularly　benighted　landsman　must　imagine　the　act　of　anchoring



as　a　process　of　throwing　something　overboard；　whereas　the　anchor



ready　for　its　work　is　already　overboard；　and　is　not　thrown　over；



but　simply　allowed　to　fall。　　It　hangs　from　the　ship's　side　at　the



end　of　a　heavy；　projecting　timber　called　the　cat…head；　in　the　bight



of　a　short；　thick　chain　whose　end　link　is　suddenly　released　by　a



blow　from　a　top…maul　or　the　pull　of　a　lever　when　the　order　is



given。　　And　the　order　is　not　〃Heave　over！〃　as　the　paragraphist



seems　to　imagine；　but　〃Let　go！〃







As　a　matter　of　fact；　nothing　is　ever　cast　in　that　sense　on　board



ship　but　the　lead；　of　which　a　cast　is　taken　to　search　the　depth　of



water　on　which　she　floats。　　A　lashed　boat；　a　spare　spar；　a　cask　or



what　not　secured　about　the　decks；　is　〃cast　adrift〃　when　it　is



untied。　　Also　the　ship　herself　is　〃cast　to　port　or　starboard〃　when



getting　under　way。　　She；　however；　never　〃casts〃　her　anchor。







To　speak　with　severe　technicality；　a　ship　or　a　fleet　is　〃brought



up〃　…　the　complementary　words　unpronounced　and　unwritten　being；　of



course；　〃to　an　anchor。〃　　Less　technically；　but　not　less　correctly；



the　word　〃anchored；〃　with　its　characteristic　appearance　and



resolute　sound；　ought　to　be　good　enough　for　the　newspapers　of　the



greatest　maritime　country　in　the　world。　　〃The　fleet　anchored　at



Spithead〃：　　can　anyone　want　a　better　sentence　for　brevity　and



seamanlike　ring？　　But　the　〃cast…anchor〃　trick；　with　its　affectation



of　being　a　sea…phrase　…　for　why　not　write　just　as　well　〃threw



anchor；〃　〃flung　anchor；〃　or　'shied　anchor〃？　…　is　intolerably　odious



to　a　sailor's　ear。　　I　remember　a　coasting　pilot　of　my　early



acquaintance　（he　used　to　read　the　papers　assiduously）　who；　to



define　the　utmost　degree　of　lubberliness　in　a　landsman；　used　to



say；　〃He's　one　of　them　poor；　miserable　'cast…anchor'　devils。〃















V。















From　first　to　last　the　seaman's　thoughts　are　very　much　concerned



with　his　anchors。　　It　is　not　so　much　that　the　anchor　is　a　symbol　of



hope　as　that　it　is　the　heaviest　object　that　he　has　to　handle　on



board　his　ship　at　sea　in　the　usual　routine　of　his　duties。　　The



beginning　and　the　end　of　every　passage　are　marked　distinctly　by



work　about　the　ship's　anchors。　　A　vessel　in　the　Channel　has　her



anchors　always　ready；　her　cables　shackled　on；　and　the　land　almost



always　in　sight。　　The　anchor　and　the　land　are　indissolubly



connected　in　a　sailor's　thoughts。　　But　directly　she　is　clear　of　the



narrow　seas；　heading　out　into　the　world　with　nothing　solid　to　speak



of　between　her　and　the　South　Pole；　the　anchors　are　got　in　and　the



cables　disappear　from　the　deck。　　But　the　anchors　do　not　disappear。



Technically　speaking；　they　are　〃secured　in…board〃；　and；　on　the



forecastle　head；　lashed　down　to　ring…bolts　with　ropes　and　chains；



under　the　straining　sheets　of　the　head…sails；　they　look　very　idle



and　as　if　asleep。　　Thus　bound；　but　carefully　looked　after；　inert



and　powerful；　those　emblems　of　hope　make　company　for　the　look…out



man　in　the　night　watches；　and　so　the　days　glide　by；　with　a　long



rest　for　those　characteristically　shaped　pieces　of　iron；　reposing



forward；　visible　from　almost　every　part　of　the　ship's　deck；　waiting



for　their　work　on　the　other　side　of　the　world　somewhere；　while　the



ship　carries　them　on　with　a　great　rush　and　splutter　of　foam



underneath；　and　the　sprays　of　the　open　sea　rust　their　heavy　limbs。







The　first　approach　to　the　land；　as　yet　invisible　to　the　crew's



eyes；　is　announced　by　the　brisk　order　of　the　chief　mate　to　the



boatswain：　　〃We　will　get　the　anchors　over　this　afternoon〃　or　〃first



thing　to…morrow　morning；〃　as　the　case　may　be。　　For　the　chief　mate



is　the　keeper　of　the　ship's　anchors　and　the　guardian　of　her　cable。



There　are　good　ships　and　bad　ships；　comfortable　ships　and　ships



where；　from　first　day　to　last　of　the　voyage；　there　is　no　rest　for　a



chief　mate's　body　and　soul。　　And　ships　are　what　men　make　them：



this　is　a　pronouncement　of　sailor　wisdom；　and；　no　doubt；　in　the



main　it　is　true。







However；　there　are　ships　where；　as　an　old　grizzled　mate　once　told



me；　〃nothing　ever　seems　to　go　right！〃　　And；　looking　from　the　poop



where　we　both　stood　（I　had　paid　him　a　neighbourly　call　in　dock）；　he



added：　　〃She's　one　of　them。〃　　He　glanced　up　at　my　face；　which



expressed　a　proper　professional　sympathy；　and　set　me　right　in　my



natural　surmise：　　〃Oh　no；　the　old　man's　right　enough。　　He　never



interferes。　　Anything　that's　done　in　a　seamanlike　way　is　good



enough　for　him。　　And　yet；　somehow；　nothing　ever　seems　to　go　right



in　this　ship。　　I　tell　you　what：　　she　is　naturally　unhandy。〃







The　〃old　man；〃　of　course；　was　his　captain；　who　just　then　came　on



deck　in　a　silk　hat　and　brown　overcoat；　and；　with　a　civil　nod　to　us；



went　ashore。　　He　was　certainly　not　more　than　thirty；　and　the



elderly　mate；　with　a　murmur　to　me　of　〃That's　my　old　man；〃　proceeded



to　give　instances　of　the　natural　unhandiness　of　the　ship　in　a　sort



of　deprecatory　tone；　as　if　to　say；　〃You　mustn't　think　I　bear　a



grudge　against　her　for　that。〃







The　instances　do　not　matter。　　The　point　is　that　there　are　ships



where　things　DO　go　wrong；　but　whatever　the　ship　…　good　or　bad；



lucky　or　unlucky　…　it　is　in　the　forepart　of　her　that　her　chief　mate



feels　most　at　home。　　It　is　emphatically　HIS　end　of　the　ship；



though；　of　course；　he　is　the　executive　supervisor　of　the　whole。



There　are　HIS　anchors；　H