Gallions Reach by H. M. Tomlinson

Author:H. M. Tomlinson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 1984-03-03T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter XX

The interminable days merged for those open boats. Time lapsed into an uneventful fortitude, a thirsty desert, to which apathy could see no end. The sail of each boat was double-reefed and goose-winged, perhaps because Sinclair was afraid cf running too far, or because he thought exhaustion would make his men careless. Smoke was sighted, one day. It was a smear which persisted for so long that the castaways thought they could make to windward till they were seen. They never lifted that steamer. And more than once a light had been glimpsed at night, when Collins’ boat was on the back of a high sea.

“Light ahead!”

The men waited hopefully for the next lucky impulse which would lift them to a clear view towards the horizon. Yes.

“There it is. A light!”

But Mr. Collins had sighted it too. “That? That’s a star.”

The men huddled down again without another word.

“Better luck next time,” their officer assured them. “Keep a good look-out. We’re in the way of traffic.”

It was strange. Colet, if he stood, was now easily thrown out of his balance by a movement of the boat. He was a little surprised by that. It was not, of course, that he was weak. He wasn’t weak. He did not care much; that was all. But he ought not to fall over, though that would be the easiest thing to do. No good. Almost sure to knock against somebody. Pull yourself together, old son. Look at young Collins. Fine fellow, Collins; and he’d hardly had a word with him till after the ship went down. Never thought there was much in Collins. But that youngster’s pasture, wherever it was, was the place for mettle. And Wilson, too. The whole lot of them. Not a murmur. There was something damned fine in this ordinary stuff.

If he could only keep seated he could last till domesday. He could steer that boat into the Styx, and save the passage money. Hullo, Charon, now watch a bit of real boat work. Beat that. He was only thirsty. Not hungry. It would be all right if that thick slime could be washed out of the mouth.

“You off biscuits?” asked Collins that morning. “So am I. I can’t make anything of ’em, except to spit dust.”

A few of the men lay as if dead on the bottom boards. If they were trodden on they did not move, and did not speak. You had to look at their faces again to make sure. The unshaven faces of the men were like those of destitute but bearded children. The purser sat considering vacancy, steering the boat. The way she was going, you kept the draught on your left jaw.

“We ought to see something any time,” Collins soliloquised, a little querulously. “No need to worry.”

The purser smiled, with his eye on the quivering luff of the sail. He felt resigned.

“I’m not worrying.” That was the strange thing about it. He imagined his mind had never been clearer. It was like a steady light inside him.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.