Philip Van Doren Stern (ed) (306 page)

"You
that
spoke—are
you
the
master
of
that
ship?"

"Officer
of
the
watch,"
the
words
floated
back;
"the
captain's below."

"Then
send
for
him.
It
is
with
masters
that
masters
hold
speech," Abel
Keeling
replied.

He
could
see
the
two
shapes,
flat
and
without
relief,
standing
on a
high
narrow
structure
with
rails.
One
of
them
gave
a
low
whistle, and
seemed
to
be
fanning
his
face;
but
the
other
rumbled
something into
a
sort
of
funnel.
Presently
the
two
shapes
became
three.
There was
a
murmuring,
as
of
a
consultation,
and
then
suddenly
a
new voice
spoke.
At
its
thrill
and
tone
a
sudden
tremor
ran
through
Abel Reeling's
frame.
He
wondered
what
response
it
was
that
that
voice found
in
the
forgotten
recesses
of
his
memory.
.
.
.

"Ahoy!"
seemed
to
call
this
new
yet
faintly
remembered
voice. "What's
all
this
about?
Listen.
We're
His
Majesty's
destroyer
Sea-pink,
out
of
Devonport
last
October,
and
nothing
particular
the matter
with
us.
Now who
are
you?"

"The
Mary
of
the
Tower,
out
of
the
Port
of
Rye
on
the
day
of
Saint
Anne,
and
only
two
men
----
"

A
gasp
interrupted
him.

"Out
of
where?"
that
voice
that
so
strangely
moved
Abel
Keeling said
unsteadily,
while
Bligh
broke
into
groans
of
renewed
rapture.

"Out
of
the
Port
of
Rye,
in
the
County
of
Sussex
.
.
.
nay,
give ear,
else
I
cannot
make
you
hear
me
while
this
man's
spirit
and flesh
wrestle
so
together!
.
.
.
Ahoy!
Are
you
gone?"
For
the
voices had
become
a
low
murmur,
and
the
ship-shape
had
faded
before Abel
Keeling's
eyes.
Again
and
again
he
called.
He
wished
to
be informed
of
the
disposition
and
economy
of
the
wind-chamber.
.
.
.

"The
wind-chamber!"
he
called,
in
an
agony
lest
the
knowledge almost
within
his
grasp
should
be
lost.
"I
would
know
about
the wind-chamber
.
.
."

Like
an
echo,
there
came
back
the
words,
uncomprehendingly uttered,
"The
wind-chamber?
.
.
."

".
.
.
that
driveth
the
vessel—perchance
'tis
not
wind—a
steel
bow that
is
bent
also
conserveth
force—the
force
you
store,
to
move
at
will through
calm
and
storm.
.
.
."

"Can
you
make
out
what
it's
driving
at?"

"Oh,
we
shall all
wake
up
in
a
minute.
.
.
."

"Quiet, I have it; the
engines;
it
wants
to
know
about
our
engines. It'll
be
wanting
to
see
our
papers
presently.
Rye
Port.'
.
.
.
Well, no
harm
in
humoring
it;
let's
see
what
it
can
make
of
this.
Ahoy there/"
came
the
voice
to
Abel
Keeling,
a
little
strongly,
as
if
a shifting
wind
carried
it,
and
speaking
faster
and
faster
as
it
went
on.
"Not
wind;
but
steam;
d'you
hear?
Steam,
steam.
Steam,
in
eight Yarrow
water-tube
boilers. S-t-e-a-m, steam. Got it? And
we've
twin-screw
triple
expansion
engines,
indicated
horsepower
four
thousand, and
we
can
do
430
revolutions
per
minute;
sawy?
Is
there
anything your
phantomhood
would
like
to
know
about
our
armament?
.
.
."