The Ebb-Tide Chapter 5 - The Cargo of Champagne

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CHAPTER V THE CARGO OF CHAMPAIGN The ship's head was laid to clear I-Meo to the north, and the captain sat down in the cabin with a chart, a ruler, and an epitome.

East to half north, said he, raising his face from his labours. Mr. Hay, you'll have to watch your dead reckoning. I want every yard she makes on every hair's breadth of a course. I'm going to knock a hole right straight through the palmotos, and that's always a near touch. Now if this southeast trade ever blew out of the southeast, which it don't, we might hope to lie within half a point of our course. Say we lie within a point of it. That'll just about weather if a cavera. Yes, sir, that's what we've got to do, if we tack for it. Brings us through this slush of little islands in the cleanest place, see? And he showed where his ruler intersected the wide-lying labyrinth of the dangerous archipelago.

I wish it was night, and I could put her about right now. We're losing time and easting. Well, we'll do our best. And if we don't fetch Peru, we'll bring up to Ecuador. All one, I guess. Depreciated dollars down, and no questions asked. A remarkable fine institution, the South American Don.

Tahiti was already some way astern, the diadem rising from among broken mountains. Aimeo was already close aboard, and stood black and strange against the golden splendor of the West, when the captain took his departure from the two islands and the patent log was set.

Some twenty minutes later, Sally Day, who was continually leaving the wheel to peer in at the cabin clock, announced in a shrill cry, Full bell! And the cook was to be seen carrying the soup into the cabin. I guess I'll sit down and have a pick with you, said Davis to Herrick. By the time I've done, it'll be dark, and we'll clap the hook around the wind for South America. In the cabin at one corner of the table, immediately below the lamp, and on the lee side of a bottle of champagne, sat Whoosh. What's this? Where did that come from? asked the captain. It's fizz, and it came from the after-old, if you want to know, said Whoosh, and drained his mug. This'll never do, exclaimed Davis, the merchant seamen's horror of breaking into cargo showing incongruously forth on board that stolen ship. There was never any good came of games like that. You bye-bye? said Whoosh.

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A fella would think to hear him.

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We were on the square.

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And look here.

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You put this job up ansomely for me, haven't you? I'm to go on deck and steer while you two sit and guzzle, and I'm to go by nickname and got to call you sir and mister.

SPEAKER_2 (3:20)

Well, you look here, my bloke. I'll have fizz ad lib, or it won't wash.

I tell you that.

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And you know mighty well you ain't got any man o war to signal now. Davis was staggered. I'd give fifty dollars, this had never happened, he said weakly.

Well, it has happened, you see, returned Wish.

SPEAKER_2 (3:45)

Try some, it's devilish good.

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The Rubicon was crossed without another struggle. The captain filled a mug and drank.

I wish it was beer, he said with a sigh. But there's no denying it's the genuine stuff and cheap at the money. Now, Whish, you clear out and take your wheel. The little wretch had gained a point, and he was gay. Aye, aye, sir, said he, and left the others to their meal. Pea soup, exclaimed the captain. Blamed if I thought I should taste pea soup again. Herrick sat inert and silent. It was impossible after these months of hopeless want to smell the rough, high-spiced sea-victuals without lust, and his mouth watered with desire of the champagne. It was no less impossible to have assisted at the scene between Whish and the captain, and not to perceive, with sudden bluntness, the gulf where he had fallen. He was a thief among thieves. He said it to himself. He could not touch the soup. If he had moved it all, it must have been to leave the table, throw himself overboard, and drown—an honest man. Here, said the captain. You look sick, old man. Have a drop of this. The champagne creamed and bubbled in the mug. Its bright colour, its lively effervescence, seized his eye.

It's too late to hesitate, he thought. His hand took the mug instinctively. He drank, with unquenchable pleasure and desire of more, drained the vessel dry, and set it down with sparkling eyes. There is something in life, after all, he cried. I had forgot what it was like. Yes, even this is worth while. Wine, food, dry clothes—why, they're worth dying. Worth hanging for.