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Conrad, Joseph, 1857-1924

"A Tale Of The Forecastle"

.. "Haul out!"... "Make
fast!" Their lips moved, their eyes started, furious and eager with the
desire to be understood, but the wind tossed their words unheard upon
the disturbed sea. In an unendurable and unending strain they worked
like men driven by a merciless dream to toil in an atmosphere of ice or
flame. They burnt and shivered in turns. Their eyeballs smarted as if
in the smoke of a conflagration; their heads were ready to' burst with
every shout. Hard fingers seemed to grip their throats. At every roll
they thought: Now I must let go. It will shake us all off--and thrown
about aloft they cried wildly: "Look out there--catch the end."...
"Reeve clear"... "Turn this block...." They nodded desperately; shook
infuriated faces, "No! No! From down up." They seemed to hate one
another with a deadly hate, The longing to be done with it all gnawed
their breasts, and the wish to do things well was a burning pain. They
cursed their fate, contemned their life, and wasted their breath in
deadly imprecations upon one another.' The sailmaker, with his bald head
bared, worked feverishly, forgetting his intimacy with so many admirals.


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