A
Single Night Of The Steerage Had Filled Them With Horror.
I had
myself suffered, even in my decent-second-cabin berth, from the
lack of air; and as the night promised to be fine and quiet, I
determined to sleep on deck, and advised all who complained of
their quarters to follow my example.
I dare say a dozen of others
agreed to do so, and I thought we should have been quite a party.
Yet, when I brought up my rug about seven bells, there was no one
to be seen but the watch. That chimerical terror of good night-
air, which makes men close their windows, list their doors, and
seal themselves up with their own poisonous exhalations, had sent
all these healthy workmen down below. One would think we had been
brought up in a fever country; yet in England the most malarious
districts are in the bedchambers.
I felt saddened at this defection, and yet half-pleased to have the
night so quietly to myself. The wind had hauled a little ahead on
the starboard bow, and was dry but chilly. I found a shelter near
the fire-hole, and made myself snug for the night.
The ship moved over the uneven sea with a gentle and cradling
movement. The ponderous, organic labours of the engine in her
bowels occupied the mind, and prepared it for slumber. From time
to time a heavier lurch would disturb me as I lay, and recall me to
the obscure borders of consciousness; or I heard, as it were
through a veil, the clear note of the clapper on the brass and the
beautiful sea-cry, 'All's well!' I know nothing, whether for
poetry or music, that can surpass the effect of these two syllables
in the darkness of a night at sea.
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