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Conrad, Joseph, 1857-1924

"A Tale Of The Forecastle"

He was one
of those commanders who speak little, seem to hear nothing, look at no
one--and know everything, hear every whisper, see every fleeting shadow
of their ship's life. His two big officers towered above his lean, short
figure; they talked over his head; they were dismayed, surprised, and
angry, while between them the little quiet man seemed to have found his
taciturn serenity in the profound depths of a larger experience. Lights
were burning in the forecastle; now and then a loud gust of babbling
chatter came from forward, swept over the decks, and became faint, as if
the unconscious ship, gliding gently through the great peace of the sea,
had left behind and for ever the foolish noise of turbulent mankind. But
it was renewed again and again. Gesticulating arms, profiles of heads
with open mouths appeared for a moment in the illuminated squares of
doorways; black fists darted--withdrew... "Yes. It was most damnable to
have such an unprovoked row sprung on one," assented the master. ... A
tumult of yells rose in the light, abruptly ceased.... He didn't think
there would be any further trouble just then.... A bell was struck aft,
another, forward, answered in a deeper tone, and the clamour of ringing
metal spread round the ship in a circle of wide vibrations that ebbed
away into the immeasurable night of an empty sea.


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