"Did your voice tell you of the coming of that sloop?"
"I am not God. I am not told everything."
"A sloop bearing Jan Dyckman's name, a sloop that seems now to be
moving, Mr. Shawn, in a flat calm where we find no breath of wind at
all? But we might be moving presently. Will you look over there--sir?"
Shawn swung about to gaze where Ben pointed, to the northeast. There--no
illusion--a faint blackish smudge was visible on the horizon, with a
slight hazing in a small area of the burning sky. Shawn turned back to
Ben a face transfigured. "Why, there's the answer! Let it come down on
us, and we'll outrun them to the ends of the earth. Can you doubt me
now? What's that you were asking? Oh, Jenks, Jenks. You may not go in
the cabin, Ben, not yet. But sure he'll speak now, and I seeing to it. A
word of that sloop and he'll speak, the Devil willing, if I must cut out
his damned tongue and let it wag alone." Shawn strode down the
quarterdeck laughing--not in music but with shrillness, high and thin,
almost an old man's laugh. "Let it come down! D'you hear, Ben? D'you
hear?--I say, if that squall comes down on us, Mother of God, we'll not
reef one inch of sail, I'll hang the man that tries it. Let it come
down, we'll go about and run south for Hell or Heaven, or the western
sea, or the dark!"
When Ben reached the companion ladder Shawn had already entered the
cabin. Ben heard the door crash, the rattle of the key.
Ben hurried forward, where a voice was crackling and spitting in the
lifeless air. Ben had glimpsed Manuel climbing to the masthead; Marsh
must have sent him up, not knowing the standing order had been revoked.
Tom Ball would be still below, and French Jack serving him what passed
for breakfast. Joey Mills and Ledyard had not gone below to eat but
stood together near the bow, tightly watching the black scarecrow Judah
Marsh, and Dummy with his sick monkey.
Dummy had backed away from Marsh to the rail, shaking his head and
moaning. "So throw it over, d'you hear, or will I do it? You've had the
dirty Jonah long enough. Wish us to stay beca'med forever? Don't make
out you can't understand me, you pig's get, you know every word I say.
Throw it over!" But Dummy, who could squeeze no further away from him,
began a desperate sidling down the deck, his twisted back pressed
against the rail, the monkey whimpering at his shaggy breast.