Chapter 12: The Council

A few minutes later, the Second Mate came forrard again. I was still standing near the rigging, holding the lantern, in an aimless sort of way.

“That you, Plummer?” he asked.

“No, Sir,” I said. “It’s Jessop.”

“Where’s Plummer, then?” he inquired.

“I don’t know, Sir,” I answered. “I expect he’s gone forrard. Shall I go and tell him you want him?”

“No, there’s no need,” he said. “Tie your lamp up in the rigging--on the sheerpole there. Then go and get his, and shove it up on the starboard side. After that you’d better go aft and give the two ‘prentices a hand in the lamp locker.”

“i, i, Sir,” I replied, and proceeded to do as he directed. After I had got the light from Plummer, and lashed it up to the starboard sherpole, I hurried aft. I found Tammy and the other ‘prentice in our watch, busy in the locker, lighting lamps.

“What are we doing?” I asked.

“The Old Man’s given orders to lash all the spare lamps we can find, in the rigging, so as to have the decks light,” said Tammy. “And a damned good job too!”

He handed me a couple of the lamps, and took two himself.

“Come on,” he said, and stepped out on deck. “We’ll fix these in the main rigging, and then I want to talk to you.”

“What about the mizzen?” I inquired.

“Oh,” he replied. “He” (meaning the other ‘prentice) “will see to that. Anyway, it’ll be daylight directly.”

We shoved the lamps up on the sherpoles--two on each side. Then he came across to me.

“Look here, Jessop!” he said, without any hesitation. “You’ll have to jolly well tell the Skipper and the Second Mate all you know about all this.”

“How do you mean?” I asked.

“Why, that it’s something about the ship herself that’s the cause of what’s happened,” he replied. “If you’d only explained to the Second Mate when I told you to, this might never have been!”

“But I don’t know,” I said. “I may be all wrong. It’s only an idea of mine. I’ve no proofs--”

“Proofs!” he cut in with. “Proofs! what about tonight? We’ve had all the proofs ever I want!”

I hesitated before answering him.

“So have I, for that matter,” I said, at length. “What I mean is, I’ve nothing that the Skipper and the Second Mate would consider as proofs. They’d never listen seriously to me.”

“They’d listen fast enough,” he replied. “After what’s happened this watch, they’d listen to anything. Anyway, it’s jolly well your duty to tell them!”

“What could they do, anyway?” I said, despondently. “As things are going, we’ll all be dead before another week is over, at this rate.”

“You tell them,” he answered. “That’s what you’ve got to do. If you can only get them to realise that you’re right, they’ll be glad to put into the nearest port, and send us all ashore.”

I shook my head.

“Well, anyway, they’ll have to do something,” he replied, in answer to my gesture. “We can’t go round the Horn, with the number of men we’ve lost. We haven’t enough to handle her, if it comes on to blow.”

“You’ve forgotten, Tammy,” I said. “Even if I could get the Old Man to believe I’d got at the truth of the matter, he couldn’t do anything. Don’t you see, if I’m right, we couldn’t even see the land, if we made it. We’re like blind men...”

“What on earth do you mean?” he interrupted. “How do you make out we’re like blind men? Of course we could see the land--”

“Wait a minute! wait a minute!” I said. “You don’t understand. Didn’t I tell you?”

“Tell what?” he asked.

“About the ship I spotted,” I said. “I thought you knew!”

“No,” he said. “When?”

“Why,” I replied. “You know when the Old Man sent me away from the wheel?”

“Yes,” he answered. “You mean in the morning watch, day before yesterday?”

“Yes,” I said. “Well, don’t you know what was the matter?”

“No,” he replied. “That is, I heard you were snoozing at the wheel, and the Old Man came up and caught you.”

“That’s all a darned silly yarn!” I said. And then I told him the whole truth of the affair. After I had done that, I explained my idea about it, to him.

“Now you see what I mean?” I asked.

“You mean that this strange atmosphere--or whatever it is--we’re in, would not allow us to see another ship?” he asked, a bit awestruck.

“Yes,” I said. “But the point I wanted you to see, is that if we can’t see another vessel, even when she’s quite close, then, in the same way, we shouldn’t be able to see land. To all intents and purposes we’re blind. Just you think of it! We’re out in the middle of the briny, doing a sort of eternal blind man’s hop. The Old Man couldn’t put into port, even if he wanted to. He’d run us bang on shore, without our ever seeing it.”

“What are we going to do, then?” he asked, in a despairing sort of way. “Do you mean to say we can’t do anything? Surely something can be done! It’s terrible!”

For perhaps a minute, we walked up and down, in the light from the different lanterns. Then he spoke again.

“We might be run down, then,” he said, “and never even see the other vessel?”

“It’s possible,” I replied. “Though, from what I saw, it’s evident that we’re quite visible; so that it would be easy for them to see us, and steer clear of us, even though we couldn’t see them.”

“And we might run into something, and never see it?” he asked me, following up the train of thought.

“Yes,” I said. “Only there’s nothing to stop the other ship from getting out of our way.”

“But if it wasn’t a vessel?” he persisted. “It might be an iceberg, or a rock, or even a derelict.”

“In that case,” I said, putting it a bit flippantly, naturally, “we’d probably damage it.”

He made no answer to this and for a few moments, we were quiet.

Then he spoke abruptly, as though the idea had come suddenly to him.

“Those lights the other night!” he said. “Were they a ship’s lights?”

“Yes,” I replied. “Why?”

“Why,” he answered. “Don’t you see, if they were really lights, we could see them?”

“Well, I should think I ought to know that,” I replied. “You seem to forget that the Second Mate slung me off the look-out for daring to do that very thing.”

“I don’t mean that,” he said. “Don’t you see that if we could see them at all, it showed that the atmosphere-thing wasn’t round us then?”

“Not necessarily,” I answered. “It may have been nothing more than a rift in it; though, of course, I may be all wrong. But, anyway, the fact that the lights disappeared almost as soon as they were seen, shows that it was very much round the ship.”

That made him feel a bit the way I did, and when next he spoke, his tone had lost its hopefulness.

“Then you think it’ll be no use telling the Second Mate and the Skipper anything?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I replied. “I’ve been thinking about it, and it can’t do any harm. I’ve a very good mind to.”

“I should,” he said. “You needn’t be afraid of anybody laughing at you, now. It might do some good. You’ve seen more than anyone else.”