We came into grey waters, and also into a grey sort of day, overcast and
moody. In the evening the wind was strong from the land, and laden with
that earthy scent which had so surprised me when I first encountered it;
a languid, rich and beguiling perfume, that is tomb-like and unnerving in
its suggestion, rising over us. It made out for me the spirit of Tom
Hood's last song, if it was his last song; the one beginning "Farewell,
life, my senses swim"; its first verse ending "I smell the Mould above the
Rose," and its second, "I smell the Rose above the Mould."
Hosea engaged me in discussion of Tennyson and Edwin Arnold. He had been
carrying out a lively campaign in his room, where an unwelcome insect
had appeared lately; one would have doubted whether any insect, however
irrepressible, could have existed in the atmosphere of cigar smoke which
he daily thickened in that room of his. But there it was, the bug had been
seen, and the whole room was overhauled.
This did not in any way deflect him from his evening pursuit of the
abstract. His resolution in following a problem through its own difficult
aspects, combined with his control of the _Bonadventure_, often made me
wonder whether he was typical of his fellow-captains. Though, as he said,
the roaring-bull style of master mariner was almost extinct, I could not
help thinking him singular.
I woke at about four, following an inquiry into some remote subject,
from a dream of roaring thunderbolts, out of whose red and whizzing track
I was crouching on the lee side of barns and cowsheds. I looked out;
there was a loud wind much like that which brought the storm of the
other Sunday. I went back to bed a little disappointed. This squall left
the makings of a very good breeze blowing and moreover lowered the
temperature. The mate complained of his khaki shorts; the second mate
had had to bring out another blanket, although it was a sunny morning. The
colour of the sea was changing as we went at a striking rate; but
prevailing, in those shallower roads turbid with silt or sand was a
greenness as of horse-chestnut leaves at their prime. Here and there were
dark acres of discoloured water drifting by, contrasting magnificently
with the green and its bright white-crested waves. The afternoon brought
into sight the dim shapes of coastline with those now less familiar things
trees and houses. This advance was welcomed by Mead and the apprentices
who lived in his alleyway with spirited but not spiritual songs.
The next day, Hosea was very early at the door of the wireless operator's
cabin, endeavouring to get a reply from the ship's agents in Monte
Video, to questions sent some days before. I do not think he succeeded.
There was, however, much buzzing, and I got up to enjoy the time of day.
It was still keen outside--"a nipping and an eager air"--the sky being
blue and the sun unclouded none the less; over the drab green sea, a
seagull or two in their lordly fashions flapping against the wind; to
starboard, in a gentle haze, a view of rugged shore. This point was one
of mountainous eminences, rolling like larger Downs, with white cliffs
or sandy beaches under their light red masses. Other steamers were in our
neighbourhood, on the same course out or home, some bright with new
paint, others scarred and rusty. Probably they were having tripe in
batter for breakfast like ourselves, the prose part of me suggested; and
I felt with gratitude that I must have become a new and better man,
who could now face and even look forward to a food which had hitherto
only interested me as a favourite with C. Lamb.
The continued cold caused me to return to socks; but I delayed the
reinstatement of the collar, which I had found no such necessity to human
happiness.
It seemed no time at all before we had passed Flores Island, and Monte
Video came into view. Bright sandy shores gave place to a parched sort of
greenery, as it looked, with large buildings here and there; the town
beyond lay terraced on rising ground, its square monotonous buildings hot
in the sun, whose fervour the roofs returned in dazzling mirror-glare.
The spires and minarets of its more pretentious architecture, something
scantily, relieved the greyness of the formal rows, barracks, warehouses
and whatever else. Farther on a rough squat cone of barren-looking
ground surmounted with another heavy square-cut building caught but
scarcely charmed the eye. As the heat was dreary, so at a casual glance
through the smouldering air this town of flat roofs and tiers.
Hosea, very smart, with his telescope under his arm, and the second mate
beside him, stood on the bridge. Hosea was giving orders, the second mate
passing them on to the engineer below on the ringing telegraph, and by
megaphone to Meacock, who with the carpenter stood to the anchor forward.
Flags were run up announcing the _Bonadventure_. No answer, in the form
of a launch, was vouchsafed so early, although other ships moored round
about us were being visited by agents or doctors. The word was given
to let go the anchor. "Forty-five on the windlass!" The cumbrous chain
unwound and ran down with a cloud of rust. The _Bonadventure_ lay still,
even the cocoa-like mud which her propeller had been diffusing in a few
moments thinning away.
A gangway was let down over the side. Firemen and engineers came up
from the underworld and all--not only the passenger--looked towards a
motor launch which now appeared making swiftly towards us. She was tied
up a moment later with ropes at the foot of the gangway, and an Englishman
emerging from her small beautifully polished saloon, asked in supercilious
fashion for the captain. "Come aboard." "No, I can't," Hosea stalked
forth with successful dignity, as if unaware that anyone should be
calling; then, going back for the ship's papers, boarded the launch, and
we heard that we were going on to Buenos Aires. The papers were quickly
seen and restored; letters--general gloom!--were absent, probably with
some other agents; and the launch and the young man in his beautiful
suit, raiment for a diplomat, departed.
We stayed here at anchor through the afternoon; telescopes sprang up on
all sides, even if to unacquainted, non-cubist eyes the view was rather
interesting than pleasing. Every half-hour or so, some tramp would leave
the harbour. Curiosity in their case was small. Every half-hour, launches
puffed along to take back their pilots. The purlieus of Monte Video with
their apparent but distant gaiety, even, were soon disregarded.
Bicker and Meacock exchanged humorous history by the engine bunkers,
in holiday mood. The steward, who had lost little time in putting out
a fishline, leaned over the rail in meditation, not knowing that his
misanthropic look was being almost to a line caught by Bicker behind him.
Bicker also illustrated in dumb show the action of heaving the poor old
man overboard. And, meanwhile, it was hot: no doubt of that! Presently the
doleful patience of the steward was rewarded with a foolish-looking
fish perhaps three pounds in weight, which was soon cut into sectors
and salted.
When towards seven in the evening the anchor was got up and the ship
began to move up the River Plate to Buenos Aires, the scene was one to be
remembered. Astern lay Monte Video with its lines of lights, and from
its hill one great light glowed out momently; ahead lay the buoys of the
channel, flashing first red and then white in reassuring alternation
along our course; and the moon overhead, pale with a stratum of thin
cloud, or lost at times behind echelons of stormier vapours, gave light
enough to hint at the look of the shores. At first the captain, the mate
and the anchor appeared the three forces acting on the ship, the anchor
especially, which was loath to come aboard. At last it came, and the
_Bonadventure_ went steadily up the river to the pipe of a rising wind.
Hosea, well satisfied, sat down in his room with his "purser" to theorize
in our wonted way. The beauty of the commonplace, it was; then we were
considering the simplicity of seafaring men. They must be simple, he
said, to have done what they had done, including Columbus. Seafaring
in sailing ships, he described in the powerful phrase "fighting against
your God"; a phrase which I suppose the early mariners in their piety
might have applied to steamers.