difficulty he caused another to present itself, and when that too
was met he stuck another ship before me, creating a very
dangerous situation. I felt
slightly outraged by this ingenuity
in piling up trouble upon a man.
"I wouldn't have got into that mess," I suggested
mildly. "I
could have seen that ship before."
He never stirred the least bit.
"No, you couldn't. The weather's thick."
"Oh! I didn't know," I apologised blankly.
I suppose that after all I managed to stave off the smash with
sufficient approach to verisimilitude, and the
ghastly business
went on. You must understand that the
scheme of the test he was
applying to me was, I gathered, a
homeward passage--the sort of
passage I would not wish to my bitterest enemy. That imaginary
ship seemed to labour under a most
comprehensive curse. It's no
use enlarging on these never-ending misfortunes;
suffice it to
say that long before the end I would have welcomed with gratitude
an opportunity to exchange into the "Flying Dutchman." Finally
he shoved me into the North Sea (I suppose) and provided me with
a lee-shore with outlying sandbanks--the Dutch coast presumably.
Distance, eight miles. The evidence of such implacable animosity
deprived me of speech for quite half a minute.
"Well," he said--for our pace had been very smart indeed till
then.
"I will have to think a little, sir."
"Doesn't look as if there were much time to think," he muttered
sardonically from under his hand.
"No, sir," I said with some
warmth. "Not on board a ship I could
see. But so many accidents have happened that I really can't
remember what there's left for me to work with."
Still half averted, and with his eyes concealed, he made
unexpectedly a grunting remark.
"You've done very well."
"Have I the two anchors at the bow, sir?" I asked.
"Yes."
I prepared myself then, as a last hope for the ship, to let them
both go in the most effectual manner, when his
infernalsystem of
testing resourcefulness came into play again.
"But there's only one cable. You've lost the other."
It was exasperating.
"Then I would back them, if I could, and tail the heaviest hawser
on board on the end of the chain before letting go, and if she
parted from that, which is quite likely, I would just do nothing.
She would have to go."
"Nothing more to do, eh?"
"No, sir. I could do no more."
He gave a bitter half-laugh.
"You could always say your prayers."
He got up, stretched himself, and yawned
slightly. It was a
sallow, strong, unamiable face. He put me in a surly, bored
fashion through the usual questions as to lights and signals, and
I escaped from the room thankfully--passed! Forty minutes! And
again I walked on air along Tower Hill, where so many good men
had lost their heads, because, I suppose, they were not
resourceful enough to save them. And in my heart of hearts I had
no
objection to meeting that
examiner once more when the third
and last
ordeal became due in another year or so. I even hoped I
should. I knew the worst of him now, and forty minutes is not an
un
reasonable time. Yes, I
distinctly hoped. . .
But not a bit of it. When I presented myself to be examined for
Master the
examiner who received me was short, plump, with a
round, soft face in grey,
fluffy whiskers, and fresh, loquacious
lips.
He commenced operations with an easy-going "Let's see. H'm.
Suppose you tell me all you know of charter-parties." He kept it
up in that style all through, wandering off in the shape of
comment into bits out of his own life, then pulling himself up
short and returning to the business in hand. It was very
interesting. "What's your idea of a jury-
rudder now?" he queried
suddenly, at the end of an
instructiveanecdotebearing upon a
point of stowage.
I warned him that I had no experience of a lost
rudder at sea,