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The Jacket (The Star-Rover)-Part38_JACK LONDON(1876-1916)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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event has appeared to change our dreadfuldestiny, do you Arnold



Bentham, do as we have agreed."

He looked to Captain Nicholl for confirmation of my suggestion, and



Captain Nicholl could only nod. He could utter no word, but in his

moist and frosty blue eyes was a wealth of acknowledgment I could



not misread.

I did not, I could not, deem it a crime, having so determined by



fair drawing of lots, that Captain Nicholl and myself should profit

by the death of Arnold Bentham. I could not believe that the love



of life that actuated us had been implanted in our breasts by aught

other than God. It was God's will, and we His poor creatures could



only obey and fulfil His will. And yet, God was kind. In His all-

kindness He saved us from so terrible, though so righteous, an act.



Scarce had a quarter of an hour passed, when a fan of air from the

west, with a hint of frost and damp in it, crisped on our cheeks.



In another five minutes we had steerage from the filled sail, and

Arnold Bentham was at the steering sweep.



"Save what little strength you have," he had said. "Let me consume

the little strength left in me in order that it may increase your



chance to survive."

And so he steered to a freshening breeze, while Captain Nicholl and



I lay sprawled in the boat's bottom and in our weakness dreamed

dreams and glimpsed visions of the dear things of life far across



the world from us.

It was an ever-freshening breeze of wind that soon began to puff and



gust. The cloud stuff flying across the sky foretold us of a gale.

By midday Arnold Bentham fainted at the steering, and, ere the boat



could broach in the tidy sea already running, Captain Nicholl and I

were at the steering sweep with all the four of our weak hands upon



it. We came to an agreement, and, just as Captain Nicholl had drawn

the first lot by virtue of his office, so now he took the first



spell at steering. Thereafter the three of us spelled one another

every fifteen minutes. We were very weak and we could not spell



longer at a time.

By mid-afternoon a dangerous sea was running. We should have



rounded the boat to, had our situation not been so desperate, and

let her drift bow-on to a sea-anchor extemporized of our mast and



sail. Had we broached in those great, over-topping seas, the boat

would have been rolled over and over.



Time and again, that afternoon, Arnold Bentham, for our sakes,

begged that we come to a sea-anchor. He knew that we continued to



run only in the hope that the decree of the lots might not have to

be carried out. He was a noble man. So was Captain Nicholl noble,



whose frosty eyes had wizened to points of steel. And in such noble

company how could I be less noble? I thanked God repeatedly,



through that long afternoon of peril, for the privilege of having

known two such men. God and the right dwelt in them and no matter



what my poor fate might be, I could but feel well recompensed by

such companionship. Like them I did not want to die, yet was



unafraid to die. The quick, early doubt I had had of these two men

was long since dissipated. Hard the school, and hard the men, but



they were noble men, God's own men.

I saw it first. Arnold Bentham, his own death accepted, and Captain



Nicholl, well nigh accepting death, lay rolling like loose-bodied

dead men in the boat's bottom, and I was steering when I saw it.



The boat, foaming and surging with the swiftness of wind in its

sail, was uplifted on a crest, when, close before me, I saw the sea-



battered islet of rock. It was not half a mile off. I cried out,

so that the other two, kneeling and reeling and clutching for



support, were peering and staring at what I saw.

"Straight for it, Daniel," Captain Nicholl mumbled command. "There



may be a cove. There may be a cove. It is our only chance."

Once again he spoke, when we were atop that dreadful lee shore with



no cove existent.

"Straight for it, Daniel. If we go clear we are too weak ever to



win back against sea and wind."

He was right. I obeyed. He drew his watch and looked, and I asked



the time. It was five o'clock. He stretched out his hand to Arnold

Bentham, who met and shook it weakly; and both gazed at me, in their



eyes extending that same hand-clasp. It was farewell, I knew; for




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