Philip Van Doren Stern (ed) (162 page)

"One
minute,
Charlie.
When
the
sea
topped
the
bulwarks,
what did
it
look
like?"
I
had
my
reasons
for
asking.
A
man
of
my
acquaintance
had
once
gone
down
with
a
leaking
ship
in
a
still
sea,
and
had seen
the
water-level
pause
for
an
instant
ere
it
fell
on
the
deck.

"It
looked
just
like
a
banjo-string
drawn
tight,
and
it
seemed
to stay
there
for
years,"
said
Charlie.

Exactly!
The
other
man
had
said:
"It
looked
like
a
silver
wire
laid down
along
the
bulwarks,
and
I
thought
it
was
never
going
to
break." He
had
paid
everything
except
the
bare
life
for
this
little
valueless piece
of
knowledge,
and
I
had
traveled
ten
thousand
weary
miles
to meet
him
and
take
his
knowledge
at
second
hand.
But
Charlie,
the bank-clerk
on
twenty-five
shillings
a
week,
he
who
had
never
been out
of
sight
of
a
London
omnibus,
knew
it
all.
It
was
no
consolation to
me
that
once
in
his
lives
he
had
been
forced
to
die
for
his
gains.
I also
must
have
died
scores
of
times,
but
behind
me,
because
I
could have
used
my
knowledge,
the
doors
were
shut.

"And
then?"
I
said,
trying
to
put
away
the
devil
of
envy.

"The
funny
thing
was,
though,
in
all
the
mess
I
didn't
feel
a
bit astonished
or
frightened.
It
seemed
as
if
I'd
been
in
a
good
many fights,
because
I
told
my
next
man
so
when
the
row
began.
But
that cad
of
an
overseer
on
my
deck
wouldn't
unloose
our
chains
and
give us
a
chance.
He
always
said
that
we'd
all
be
set
free
after
a
battle,
but we
never
were;
we
never
were."
Charlie
shook
his
head
mournfully.

"What
a
scoundrel!"

"I
should
say
he
was.
He
never
gave
us
enough
to
eat,
and
sometimes
we
were
so
thirsty
that
we
used
to
drink
salt-water.
I
can
taste that
salt-water
still."

"Now
tell
me
something
about
the
harbor
where
the
fight
was fought."

"I
didn't
dream
about
that.
I
know
it
was
a
harbor,
though;
because
we
were
tied
up
to
a
ring
on
a
white
wall
and
all
the
face
of the
stone
under
water
was
covered
with
wood
to
prevent
our
ram getting
chipped
when
the
tide
made
us
rock."

"That's
curious.
Our
hero
commanded
the
galley,
didn't
he?"

"Didn't
he
just!
He
stood
by
the
bows
and
shouted
like
a
good
'un. He
was
the
man
who
killed
the
overseer."

"But
you
were
all
drowned
together,
Charlie,
weren't
you?"

"I
can't
make
that
fit
quite,"
he
said,
with
a
puzzled
look.
"Tire galley
must
have
gone
down
with
all
hands,
and
yet
I
fancy
that
the hero
went
on
living
afterward.
Perhaps
he
climbed
into
the
attacking ship.
I
wouldn't
see
that,
of
course.
I
was
dead,
you
know."