To the Ends of the Earth by William Golding Page A

could not. I called the steward who is accustomed enough to dealing with such situations. Now at last the audience were indeed returning from the upper decks, for I could hear feet on the ladder. I emerged from the saloon to be met by a crowd of them in the lobby. Miss Granham swept by me. Mr Prettiman hung at her shoulder and orated to what effect I know not. The Stocks were agreeing with Pike père et mère that the thing had gone too far. But here was Miss Zenobia, radiant among the officers as if she had made one of the audience from the beginning! She addressed me, laughing.
    “Was it not diverting, Mr Talbot?”
    I bowed, smiling.
    “I have never been better entertained, Miss Brocklebank .”
    I returned to my cabin, where it seemed to me the woman’s perfume yet lingered. To tell the truth, though irritation was still uppermost in my mind, as I sat down and began to make this entry—and as the entry has progressed​ —irritation has been subsumed into a kind of universal sadness—​Good God! Is Aristotle right in this commerce of the sexes as he is in the orders of society? I must rouse myself from too dull a view of the farmyard transaction by which our wretched species is lugged into the daylight.

(Z)
    Zed, you see, zed, I do not know what the day is—but here was a to-do! What a thing!
    I rose at the accustomed hour with a faint stricture about the brows, caused I think by my somewhat liberal potations with Mr Deverel of a rather inferior brandy. I dressed and went on deck to blow it away—when who should emerge from our lobby but the reverend gentleman for whom I planned to procure—the word is unfortunate​—such a pleasant future. Mindful of my determination I raised my beaver to him and gave him good day. He bowed and smiled and raised his tricorn but with more dignity than I had thought he had in him. Come, thought I to myself, does Van Diemen’s Land require a bishop? I watched him in some surprise as he walked steadily up the ladder to the afterdeck. I followed him to where Mr Prettiman still stood and cradled his ridiculous weapon. I saluted him; for if I have a personal need, now, of Mr Colley, as you know, Mr Prettiman must always be an object of interest to me.
    “You hit the albatross, sir?”
    Mr Prettiman bounced with indignation.
    “I did not, sir! The whole episode—the weapon was snatched from my hands—the whole episode was grotesque and lamentable! Such a display of ignorance, of monstrous and savage superstition!”
    “No doubt, no doubt,” said I soothingly. “Such a thing could never happen in France.”
    I moved on towards the poop; climbed the ladder; and what was my astonishment to find Mr Colley there! In round wig, tricorn and black coat he stood before Captain Anderson on the very planks sacred to the tyrant! As Icame to the top of the ladder Captain Anderson turned abruptly away, went to the rail and spat over the side. He was red in the face and grim as a gargoyle. Mr Colley lifted his hat gravely, then came towards the ladder. He saw Lieutenant Summers and went across to him. They saluted each other with equal gravity.
    “Mr Summers, I believe it was you who discharged Mr Prettiman’s weapon?”
    “It was, sir.”
    “I trust you injured no one?”
    “I fired over the side.”
    “I must thank you for it.”
    “It was nothing, sir. Mr Colley—”
    “Well, sir?”
    “I beg of you, be advised by me.”
    “In what way, sir?”
    “Do not go immediately. We have not known our people long enough, sir. After yesterday—I am aware that you are no friend to intoxicants of any sort—I beg you to wait until the people have been issued with their rum. After that there will ensue a period when they will, even if they are no more than now open to reason, be at least calmer and more amiable—”
    “I have armour, sir.”
    “Believe me, I know of what I speak! I was once of their condition—”
    “I bear the shield of the Lord.”
    “Sir! Mr Colley! As a personal