it was damp and depressing; and almost unbearably hot, even to engineers. Big drops of sweat, unable in that humid air to evaporate, ran warm and salt across their lips.
The tormented black sky was one incessant flicker of lightning.
For the first time, since the storm reached its height, they could see the ship from one end to the other. For the first time they saw the gaping crater left by the funnelâs roots. Smashed derricks, knotted stays. The wheelhouse, like a smashed conservatory. The list, too, of the ship: that had been at first a thing felt: then, as they grew accustomed to it, almost a thing forgotten; but now you could see the horizon tilted sideways, the whole ocean tipped up at a steep slope as if about to pour over the edge of the world: so steep that it seemed to tower over the lee bulwarks. It was full of sharks, too, which looked at you on your own levelâor almost, it seemed, from above you. It looked as if any moment they might slide down the steep green water and land on the deck right on top of you. They were plainly waiting for something: and waiting with great impatience.
But the sharks were not the only living things. The whole ruin of the deck and upper-structures was covered with living things. Living, but not moving. Birds, and even butterflies and big flying grasshoppers. The tormented black sky was one incessant flicker of lightning, and from every mast-head and derrick-point streamed a bright discharge, like electric hair; but large black birds sat right amongst it, unmoving. High up, three john-crows sat on the standard compass. A big bird like a crane, looking as if its wings were too big for it when folded up, sat on a life-boat, staring through them moonily. Some herons even tried to settle on the lee bulwarks, that were mostly awash; and were picked liked fruit by the sharks. And birds like swallows: massed as if for migration. They were massed like that on every stay and handrail. But not for migration. As you gripped a handrail to steady yourself they never moved; you had to brush them off; when they just fell.
The decks were covered in a black and sticky oil, that had belched out of the funnel. Birds were stuck in it, like flies on a flypaper. The officers were barefoot, and as they walked they kept stepping on live birdsâthey could not help it. I donât want to dwell on this, but I must tell you what things were like, and be done with it. You would feel the delicate skeleton scrunch under your feet: but you could not help it, and the gummed feathers hardly even fluttered.
No bird, even crushed, or half-crushed, cried.
Respite? This calm was a more unnerving thing even than the storm. More birds were coming every minute. Big birds, of the heron type, arrived in such numbers, that Captain Edwardes, in his mindâs eye (now growing half delirious), imagined the additional weight on the superstructure actually increasing the list: them arriving in countless crowds, and settling, and at length with the leverage of their innumerable weights turning the âArchimedesâ right over, and everybody sliding down the slippery decks to the impatient sharks. Little birdsâsome of them humming-birdsâkept settling on the Captainâs head and shoulders and outstretched arm, would not be shaken off, their wings buzzing, clinging with their little pinlike toes even to his ears.
Only work could take your mind off the birds; and luckily there was plenty to do, fitting new hatches and covering them with awnings for tarpaulins: but how could even work take your mind off, with birds settling on you and clinging to you even as you worked?
They longed for the wind again: but the work was finished before it came.
When at last the blast came, from an opposite quadrant, sweeping all those birds away to destruction, everyone was heartily thankful. Thank God not one of them was ever seen again.
Part II
Chapter VII
(Friday)
At noon the next day the Captain and Mr.
The tormented black sky was one incessant flicker of lightning.
For the first time, since the storm reached its height, they could see the ship from one end to the other. For the first time they saw the gaping crater left by the funnelâs roots. Smashed derricks, knotted stays. The wheelhouse, like a smashed conservatory. The list, too, of the ship: that had been at first a thing felt: then, as they grew accustomed to it, almost a thing forgotten; but now you could see the horizon tilted sideways, the whole ocean tipped up at a steep slope as if about to pour over the edge of the world: so steep that it seemed to tower over the lee bulwarks. It was full of sharks, too, which looked at you on your own levelâor almost, it seemed, from above you. It looked as if any moment they might slide down the steep green water and land on the deck right on top of you. They were plainly waiting for something: and waiting with great impatience.
But the sharks were not the only living things. The whole ruin of the deck and upper-structures was covered with living things. Living, but not moving. Birds, and even butterflies and big flying grasshoppers. The tormented black sky was one incessant flicker of lightning, and from every mast-head and derrick-point streamed a bright discharge, like electric hair; but large black birds sat right amongst it, unmoving. High up, three john-crows sat on the standard compass. A big bird like a crane, looking as if its wings were too big for it when folded up, sat on a life-boat, staring through them moonily. Some herons even tried to settle on the lee bulwarks, that were mostly awash; and were picked liked fruit by the sharks. And birds like swallows: massed as if for migration. They were massed like that on every stay and handrail. But not for migration. As you gripped a handrail to steady yourself they never moved; you had to brush them off; when they just fell.
The decks were covered in a black and sticky oil, that had belched out of the funnel. Birds were stuck in it, like flies on a flypaper. The officers were barefoot, and as they walked they kept stepping on live birdsâthey could not help it. I donât want to dwell on this, but I must tell you what things were like, and be done with it. You would feel the delicate skeleton scrunch under your feet: but you could not help it, and the gummed feathers hardly even fluttered.
No bird, even crushed, or half-crushed, cried.
Respite? This calm was a more unnerving thing even than the storm. More birds were coming every minute. Big birds, of the heron type, arrived in such numbers, that Captain Edwardes, in his mindâs eye (now growing half delirious), imagined the additional weight on the superstructure actually increasing the list: them arriving in countless crowds, and settling, and at length with the leverage of their innumerable weights turning the âArchimedesâ right over, and everybody sliding down the slippery decks to the impatient sharks. Little birdsâsome of them humming-birdsâkept settling on the Captainâs head and shoulders and outstretched arm, would not be shaken off, their wings buzzing, clinging with their little pinlike toes even to his ears.
Only work could take your mind off the birds; and luckily there was plenty to do, fitting new hatches and covering them with awnings for tarpaulins: but how could even work take your mind off, with birds settling on you and clinging to you even as you worked?
They longed for the wind again: but the work was finished before it came.
When at last the blast came, from an opposite quadrant, sweeping all those birds away to destruction, everyone was heartily thankful. Thank God not one of them was ever seen again.
Part II
Chapter VII
(Friday)
At noon the next day the Captain and Mr.
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