III

With the problem still unsolved, however, I went to sleep, and awakened

at eight bells of the afternoon watch. Going on deck, I found a gale of

wind blowing out of the southeast, the ship hove down under the three

lower topsails, spanker, spencer, and foretopmast staysail, and liquid

hills of greenish-gray bombarding the weather-bow and occasionally

climbing aboard. Jack, clad in yellow oilskins and sou'wester, stood on

the poop in a fleeting patch of sunlight, trying to get an afternoon

sight with his sextant as the sun peeped from behind the racing

storm-clouds. Jim was also on the poop, but on the lee side, scurrying

forward along the alley in advance of the irate second mate, who was

profanely criticizing Jim's bad taste in coming to relieve the wheel

without knowledge of steering or of the compass. Jack, busy with the

sextant, did not witness the scene, nor hear the profanity; but I,

having a personal and domestic interest in the matter, met the officer,

returning after a final kick at Jim, and softly but intensely informed

him that such language must cease within hearing of my wife, or I

would deal with him as man to man. He apologized, in his way, and I

then gave him the reasons I had given Limerick for keeping Jim out of

sight, and secured his coöperation. Limerick was at the wheel, scowling

in sympathy with me, and he whispered as I passed that it would not

have happened had he been forward--that the men of the other watch had

driven Jim aft to relieve the wheel before they had learned his status.

I joined Jack. He seemed himself, showing no sign of the night's

agitation; yet he looked a little worried.

"Couldn't get a sight, dad," he said, swinging his sextant at arm's

length, and smiling, rather sadly, I thought. "But the Long Island

coast is about ten miles under the lee. How'd you like to drown at the

end of a cable to-night?"

"Why," I asked, "is there any danger?"

"We're on the wrong tack, I think; but I expected it to veer to the

east. It hangs right on from sou'-sou'east--dead on to the beach, and

as it is it don't make much difference which tack we're on if we hit.

If it shows the slightest sign of hauling to the west I'll wear ship

and try to clear Montauk. If it don't, it's the anchors."

"Why not wear ship now?--whatever that is," I answered.

"Couldn't clear it anyway with the wind this way, and I'd only lose a

full mile to leeward. Our drift under this canvas is quartering, and

about three miles an hour."

"Is there no other recourse than wearing ship?"

"Clubhauling, if the wind shifts too late to wear. You see, wearing

is putting a ship on the other tack by squaring away before the wind

and then rounding to. Clubhauling is going about head to wind with the

help of the lee anchor. It's about the most difficult operation in

seamanship. We did it once in the _Monocacy_, but few merchant skippers

learn the trick."

All this was unintelligible to me at the time, and I went down to my

wife. I found her as comfortable as a woman may be in her first storm

at sea, and then paid a professional visit to the first officer. Then

I went forward on the reeling main-deck to see and encourage the

unfortunate Jim. On the way I thought seriously of taking Jack into my

confidence, but gave it up when I considered that the shock and mental

agitation might not be well for him with his ship in danger. Then I

thought of the alternative--could I not arouse a little courage in Jim,

so that if a critical moment arrived Jack would not be obsessed with

his cowardice, as he was the preceding evening? It was worth trying--at

least worth thinking of. In any event Jim would be none the worse for a

little bracing up.

I found him shivering in his wet garments, crouching from the blast of

cold rain and spindrift under the weather-rail near the fore-rigging.

"Doctor," he sobbed, "take me away from these fellers. They hit me and

kick me, and I'm afraid. I haven't a friend here but you."

"Jim," I asked kindly, "do you really believe me to be your friend?

Have you full confidence that I can help you?"

"Yes, yes, doctor. You were always good to me, in the old days. And you

married mother. Where is she, and Jack? Jack never cared for me, but

I'd like to see mother 'fore I die."

"You shall see her sometime, Jim, but not yet--not for a long time,

perhaps. You are worn out and want sleep. You want dry clothes and a

good, long sleep, and you'll feel all right when you wake up. Stay here

and when I beckon to you, come."

I had made up my mind. Going aft, I found my wife in the forward

companionway, where she had been watching me. Her first question was

of the poor fellow forward, and I said what I could to quiet the

instinctive mother-love that she herself could not analyze. I told her

that the man needed only a little care, which I was giving him. Then,

when I had led her aft to her quarters, I sought the cabin steward,

adjured him to silence, and arranged for exclusive possession of the

forward cabin stateroom that adjoined my own. Going on deck, I imposed

the same condition upon the second mate (who was beginning to respect

me), and beckoned to the expectant Jim. He came on the run, and I soon

had him in that room, with his wet rags exchanged for a dry suit of my

own, and no one the wiser but the second mate and the steward, both of

whom considered him a sick man taken aft for treatment. Which was more

or less the truth.

Giving Jim a stimulant, I put him into the berth and covered him,

for he still shivered from the chill of the storm. Then, holding his

hand, I began a gentle, soothing flow of words in which I assured him

that I was his friend, that I would so continue, that he was in no

danger while I was with him, but that he must go to sleep, and rest,

and that when he wakened he would feel braver and stronger, like his

brother Jack, whom he surely must remember. In a few moments his

eyelids had ceased to flutter, and soon after they closed under the

steady, monotonous lullaby of my voice; but he was not yet asleep, and

I continued, enjoining upon the weary, homeless, and desolate waif

again and again--speaking more emphatically as his breathing grew

heavier--that he must be like Jack, as he was when they were little

boys together and shared the same impulses; that he must hark back to

that time, and rouse up the strong, brave soul, common to each, which

had developed in Jack, but which in him had been suppressed by years

of continued defeat. Strongly insisting upon this toward the last, I

finally left him, having actually talked him to sleep.

On deck I found Jack really worried. "If it would only shift," he said,

"one way or the other. But here it is, hanging on out of the same

quarter, and blowing harder. The storm-center is inland, and coming

right at us. See the land yonder?"

A dim line of yellowish brown showed faintly through the dense blanket

of gray to leeward--the only visible border between sea and sky. Two

hours more would bring us perilously close.

Supper was served, and I ate, hurriedly and ravenously, my first meal

in twenty-four hours; then I prepared my wife for what might come,

saw that she was dressed warmly, and brought her on deck, where Jack

supperless and anxious paced the deck abaft the house and watched the

wind and compass. Forward, all hands, under the second mate, worked at

the two chain cables in the lessening light of the evening, hauling

them up from the lockers and ranging them ready for use. Occasionally,

in the intervals of work, the men would look keenly aft and to leeward

at the approaching line of coast. Every face wore a look of anxiety;

all knew of the danger.

When the cables were ranged a quiet order from Jack brought a cast of

the lead. Twelve fathoms was the finding.

"Lord grant we hit close to a life-saving station," said Jack, looking

fondly at his mother. "No boats could live a minute in this sea. We're

not far from the storm center. It's got to shift six points at least to

clear us, now. I'll get ready to clubhaul, anyway."

An order to the tired but very efficient second mate resulted in two

strong hawsers being brought up from the forepeak, coiled one each side

on the poop abaft the house, and the ends led forward outside of all

rigging to the hawsepipes in the bow, into which they were passed. Then

another sounding was taken, showing ten fathoms of water.

"About half an hour more," said Jack to the second mate. "Fake your

braces down for going about, and have the carpenter stand by at the

windlass with a top-maul and a punch to slip the chain at any shackle."

The officer stared in amazement, but went forward to execute the

orders. Evidently, he knew as little of their portent as did I.

He reported in time, "All ready for stays, sir," and we waited. There

was nothing more to do, it seemed, with the ship blowing almost

straight on to a lee shore. Again was the lead cast, and nine fathoms

was the result called out.

"All hands on deck, and stand by on the poop," roared Jack through his

hands. The men trooped aft and crowded the weather alley.

A tall, unkempt figure with face tied up in cloths lumbered up the poop

steps and approached Jack. "I b'long on deck, Cappen," he mumbled. "Can

I be any good?"

"No, sir," answered Jack kindly, but sharply; "you cannot; but stay on

deck and be ready for swimming."

The injured mate bowed his head and, first looking at the compass, then

painfully aloft at the wind-vane, seated himself on the wheel-box. His

chance of swimming was poor; he could hardly stand.

The steward came up, muffled to the chin in a long overcoat, and the

sight of him brought to my mind poor Jim, lying asleep in a cabin

berth. Down the after companionway I rushed, but was hardly clear of

the stairs before I felt the ship heel still farther under a furious

blast of wind, then straighten nearly upright; and over and above the

sound of rattling canvas came Jack's thundering roar: "Keep full.

Hard up your wheel. Stand by for stays. Down off--" Something had

interrupted the order. I heard my wife scream, but I hurried into the

forward cabin after Jim, just in time to see him leave the stateroom

and dart out through the forward door.

I followed him out, but he was not in sight on the main deck, nor was

he among the men floundering down the poop steps to stations. So I

mounted to the poop; and there, prone upon his back in the alley, was

the unconscious form of Jack, with blood upon his face, and his mother

bending over him.

"The wind shifted, and the mizzen royal-yard shook out of her," said

the second mate from near the wheel, "and something came down and hit

him on the head."

Lifting my wife to her feet, I examined him hurriedly, but found no

cause for alarm. He was simply stunned by some falling object. "Let him

lie where he is, and he'll come to directly," I said, and, leaving him

to his mother, I joined the second mate to ask of Jim.

But a voice from the top of the house interrupted my query--a voice

like the blast of a speaking-trumpet, strangely like Jack's. And

there was Jim beside the mizzenmast, bareheaded and erect, his

stoop-shoulders squared, his eyes staring straight before him into the

horizontal rain and drift from the combers. "Ready about," he had said

in that borrowed voice. "Hard alee!"

My wife screamed again, stood up, and stared at the figure on the

house, and in a bound I had reached her.

"It's your boy Jim," I said in her ear, "but keep quiet. He's asleep."

She knew what I meant, and stood still, staring with wide-open, hungry

eyes at Jim, with an occasional downward glance at Jack.

"Get down off that house," sang out the second mate angrily.

"Let him alone," I shouted, "and do what he orders. Do you hear? Obey

his orders to the letter. They will be correct."

I hardly knew this myself, but the second mate believed me. He

motioned to the helmsman, who ground the wheel hard down. Forward,

the forecastle men had let go the foretopmast staysail sheet, and

this sail flapped furiously as the ship came slowly up to the wind. I

hastened to the compass and looked. Though I could not have named the

points, I could see that the wind was now blowing from the southwest,

and that the ship _had_ been heading nearly straight for that line of

sand. I went back to my wife, and Jim turned his expressionless face

and sleepy eyes toward the second mate, who had nervously followed me.

"Go forward," Jim commanded; "cockbill and stand by the lee anchor to

let go at the word; then stand by with the carpenter to make fast the

spring-line to the chain forward of the windlass, and to slip the chain

at the first shackle abaft. And send two men aft to attend this line at

the quarter-bitt."

"Aye, aye, sir," answered the astounded officer, hastening to obey.

Limerick was one of the men sent aft to the spring-line, and his

amazement exceeded that of the other. "Goin' to clubhaul her," he said

to me, "an' he don't know the compass, he's only a barber man an' no

sailor. It beats my goin' to sea."

With my arm about my wife I watched the somnambulist, ready to speak

to him if I thought the occasion warranted it, ready to prevent

others from speaking; for the sleepy mind of Jim--or the soul of the

unconscious Jack, if you like--might obey an unwise or misleading word,

even now.

Slowly and more slowly the great ship came up against the pounding of

the southerly seas, wavered, and stopped with the weather leech of the

maintopsail just lifting.

"Let go the lee anchor," thundered Jim. The anchor was dropped, and the

chain rattled out of the hawse-pipe.

"Maintopsail haul," came the next order from Jim in the same vibrant

voice. The lee main- and weather cro'-jack braces were cast off, and

the after yards came around with a swing and a crash that threatened

to take them out of her; but they held, and the opposite braces were

tautened.

"Is Jim a sailor, too?" my wife whispered.

"No," I answered gently. "He is doing Jack's work for him. Thank God

for your boy to-night. He is saving our lives."

Slowly the ship's head sagged away from the wind; then it stopped and a

tremor went through her. The anchor had bit, but was dragging.

"Pay out on that chain," roared Jim to the forecastle, then to Limerick

he said quietly, "Catch a turn with that spring and stand by to slack

away."

"Very good, sorr," answered Limerick, as he took a turn with the line

around the bitt. "Oh, he's a navy officer, all right, sorr," he said

joyously, but softly to me. "I've been there an' I know 'em."

Again the ship's nose drew up into the wind under the strain of the

still dragging anchor, and when head to it, with the foretopsail aback

and tending to throw her still farther, Jim called out: "Hang on to

your chain. Make fast the spring to the chain, and knock out the

shackle-pin." Then he waited a moment or two, until the heaving ship

unmistakably pointed to the southward of the wind's eye, and shouted:

"All hands on the forebraces. Fore bowline. Let go and haul. Slip the

chain." Then quietly to Limerick: "Handsomely on that spring when the

strain comes. Don't part it."

"Aye, aye, sir," laughed Limerick. "I've been in the service, sorr."

"Not a word to him," I said, bounding toward Limerick. "Not a word. He

knows what he is doing."

The end of the chain had rattled out of the hawse-pipe and under the

tension of the line to the quarter the big ship was paying off to the

southward, while the men slowly hauled the foreyard around. When it

finally filled and was steadied, and the ship brought up as high as she

would lay, the last of the spring-line slipped out of Limerick's hands

and went overboard. And now the big first mate, who had quietly watched

the whole operation from the wheel-box, approached and studied the

compass.

"The wind is hauling all the time," he said through his swollen jaws,

"and we'll have a fair wind to the open sea. But who is that man? He

kept her off the beach. She'd 'a' hit in a few minutes more."

"He's captain of the ship," I answered.

But Jim was not acting like a captain now. He ran to the monkey-rail at

the side of the house, and partly climbed over to descend. Then he went

back and resumed his position at the mizzenmast. Then he made another

attempt, succeeded, and, gaining the alley, sped forward to the steps

and went down them. A groan from Jack, followed by his mother's cry of

sympathy, apprised me of the reason. Jack was recovering consciousness,

and after assuring myself that he was in his right mind, I left him,

still dazed and stupid, in the care of his mother, and leisurely

followed Jim, finding him just where I expected to--sound asleep in the

stateroom berth. I wakened him, and he sat up, blinking at me.

"Lordy, what a dream, doctor. Mother and Jack--oh, I forget," he said

sleepily. "And something hit me on the head--here." He felt of the spot

on his head where Jack had been struck.

"Come out on deck, Jim," I said, and he followed me.

"How do you feel now, Jim?"

"Fine, doctor, but where's this boat going, I'd like to know?"

"Feel afraid of the water, now?"

"Not a bit. Why, it can't hurt anyone, can it--unless you fall into it?"

"Afraid of those men forward, Jim?"

"No, I'm not." His face took on a look of defiance. "Why, doctor, I

could lick most o' that crowd, couldn't I? I feel different, somehow.

But that dream, doctor, about mother and Jack. That dream meant

something. Where are they, and how are they?"

"Come below, Jim."

This is not a story of sentiment, so that reunion will not be

described. This story is a question, with a large interrogation point.

The question is: What is the human soul? Is it an entity, or a possible

merging of entities? Is it a collection of memory clusters, any of

which may assume an individuality, or is it a series of mental planes

or concentric spheres? Jack is Jack and Jim is Jim, and there is a

separate ego to each. But what part of Jim's soul left him to obsess

Jack during the fracas forward when Jack was awake, and why did it not

come again before Jack was struck down, and when he was but normally

disturbed over the ship's peril. And how much or how little of Jack

went into Jim under my suggestion to the latter to be like him, which

waited until Jack was unconscious before acting, and which left him

when Jack awoke to claim it?

We are sailing south with a crew and a first mate that think Jim a

fugitive from justice, protected by the skipper, and with a second mate

who thinks me the devil and Jim my familiar. There is a white-haired,

happy woman growing young in her aroused mother-love; and there is a

former very promising hobo developing surprising qualities of mind and

seamanship under mine and Jack's tutelage. But from none of these can

I get any light. I am only a village practitioner, and I submit the

question to others: What is the human soul?