Wang was panting; a shrill note of anguish came into his voice. He reached out a trembling hand toward the precious drug.
"Yes, you can, and you will. It's nothing but a nasty, degenerate habit. You're too old for such things. It's making you dirty and careless. Brace up, now—show that you're good for something. You used to be the best steward in the fleet. I'm only trying to help you out. If things were to go on like this much longer, I'd have to find a new steward in Hong Kong"
Captain Sheldon, struggling to regain control of himself after the outburst of temper, stamped off through the after cabin. Wang heard him go up the companion. He sat down again on the edge of the bunk, a crumpled heap, inert and silent, his eyes dulled by a fear beyond any he had yet known. For fifty years he had smoked daily that tiny pipeful of opium. With all that life had brought him, could he summon strength for this new and terrible ordeal?
II
Fire, like the rain, falls on the just and the unjust alike, and eats up a tall ship at sea as readily as it guts a splendid castle. They were half way across from Luzon to the China coast, only a few hundred miles from Hong Kong and the end of the passage, when the blaze was discovered in the fore hold, already well under way. Quickly it became unmanageable. Through a day and a night of frantic effort the whole ship's company fought the flames, retreating aft inch by inch while destruction followed them relentlessly under decks. In the gleam of a dawn striking across a smooth sea and lighting up the pale faces gathered on the top of the after house, it became apparent that the ship was doomed.
Daylight found them in the boats, standing off to watch the last lurid scene. The ship burned fiercely throughout the forenoon. At midday, under a blistering sun, her bows seemed suddenly to crumple and dissolve; surrounded by a cloud of steam, she settled forward with a loud hissing noise, and slowly vanished under the waters of the China Sea.
Captain Sheldon, sitting upright in the stern of the long-boat, watched the scene with set jaw and snapping eyes. It was his first disaster, the first time he had met destiny coming the other way. A fierce anger, like the fire he had just been fighting, ran in his blood. He was beside himself. It seemed inconceivable that there was no way to bring his ship back out of the deep; that the very means of authority had vanished, that he was powerless, that the event was sealed for all time. He wanted to strike out blindly, hit something, crush something.
Well he knew that if any blame attached to the matter, it rested on him alone. For some occult reason, as it now seemed, the mate a few days before had broached the subject of fire, in conversation at the supper table. Not that fire was to be expected; no one ever had heard of it with such a cargo. Why had the mate chosen that day, of all others, when the captain had lost his patience with old Wang, to talk about fire throughout the supper period, to follow him on deck with the subject in the evening? The talk had only aroused the perversity of his own opposition. The mate, waxing eloquent and imaginative, had at length succeeded in frightening himself; had wanted to take off the fore hatch in the dog watch, just to look into the hold. Had he done so then, the fire would probably have been discovered in season to overcome it. But Captain Sheldon, sarcastic and bristling with arbitrariness, had flatly commanded him to leave the fore hatch alone.
Well, no use in crying over spilt milk. The ship was gone.
"Give way!" he shouted across the water to the mate's boat "Keep along with me. We'll strike in for the coast, and follow it down"