CHAPTER IX.

THE CHARGE CONFIDED TO A RAGING SEA.

The skipper, at the helm, burst out laughing,--

“A bell! that’s good. We are on the larboard tack. What does the bell

prove? Why, that we have land to starboard.”

The firm and measured voice of the doctor replied,--

“You have not land to starboard.”

“But we have,” shouted the skipper.

“No!”

“But that bell tolls from the land.”

“That bell,” said the doctor, “tolls from the sea.”

A shudder passed over these daring men. The haggard faces of the two

women appeared above the companion like two hobgoblins conjured up. The

doctor took a step forward, separating his tall form from the mast. From

the depth of the night’s darkness came the toll of the bell.

The doctor resumed,--

“There is in the midst of the sea, halfway between Portland and the

Channel Islands, a buoy, placed there as a caution; that buoy is moored

by chains to the shoal, and floats on the top of the water. On the buoy

is fixed an iron trestle, and across the trestle a bell is hung. In bad

weather heavy seas toss the buoy, and the bell rings. That is the bell

you hear.”

The doctor paused to allow an extra violent gust of wind to pass over,

waited until the sound of the bell reasserted itself, and then went

on,--

“To hear that bell in a storm, when the nor’-wester is blowing, is to be

lost. Wherefore? For this reason: if you hear the bell, it is because

the wind brings it to you. But the wind is nor’-westerly, and the

breakers of Aurigny lie east. You hear the bell only because you are

between the buoy and the breakers. It is on those breakers the wind is

driving you. You are on the wrong side of the buoy. If you were on the

right side, you would be out at sea on a safe course, and you would not

hear the bell. The wind would not convey the sound to you. You would

pass close to the buoy without knowing it. We are out of our course.

That bell is shipwreck sounding the tocsin. Now, look out!”

As the doctor spoke, the bell, soothed by a lull of the storm, rang

slowly stroke by stroke, and its intermitting toll seemed to testify to

the truth of the old man’s words. It was as the knell of the abyss.

All listened breathless, now to the voice, now to the bell.

The Man Who Laughs: A Romance of English History · 第 9 / 25 章