Over the border

by Morgan Robertson

"Right," said the captain impatiently, and a little sadly. "But it's too late to calk every seam in this ship, and if it don't smother out, and we can't make port, this ship is gone. All we can do is wait, for if we open hatches and jettison sugar to get at it, we'll only give it more draft."

So, we waited, but while waiting, headed the ship toward Calcutta, if not to save our lives, at least to meet with some craft that could deluge our jute with water—a large steamer, with power pumps and hose. But nothing came our way, and the days and weeks went on, with the deadening calm still engulfing us, and the deck growing hotter each hour. Soon the smoke became visible, curling up in countless little spirals, where the minute holes gave it egress.

Morton faced me one day, his eyes wide open and his face twitching. "I know what you think," he stammered. "You think I set fire to the cargo. But I swear by all I reverence that I did not. My sister believes in me."

"Mr. Morton," I answered, steadily as I could, for I never was my real self in his presence, "perhaps you did not. But all that makes me think so is my utter inability to comprehend how you could do it. A man who will fire a seminary will fire a ship at sea."

He slunk away from me, so pitiable and wretched an object that immediately I was sorry for my words. After that I spoke kindly to him whenever it was necessary to speak at all.

Work went on as usual; not that, in this doomed ship, painting and scrubbing were necessary, but to keep the crew's minds off the danger and the formulating of futile plans and suggestions—which always comes of idleness. But in spite of this, mutterings of discontent were heard, and in the interests of peace, I abolished all work except the continuous washing down of the hot deck, night and day. And at this monotonous work men would go to sleep in their tracks, waking when they fell over.

I had long noticed the peculiar mental effect of the jute smoke on myself, at first a tendency to day-dreams and a lazy, sleepy indifference to our danger; later a trancelike condition in which voices were not heard, or if heard not noticed, and the whole inner consciousness busy with serene contemplation of the past, the present, and the future, mingled with visions of green trees and flowers, sounds of tinkling water, and music that seemed not of earth.

All this brought no misgiving to my mind until I wakened, prone upon the blistering deck one night, with no recollection of my falling. Then I regarded it as serious, and in the morning spoke to the captain.

"Yes, we must quit," he said mournfully, "while we have our senses. It is the soporific principle of the jute, akin to that of hasheesh, which is made from Indian hemp. No one could sleep below without that continuous narcotic, and such sleep is dangerous. I had trouble waking you yesterday. Capsize the boats and provision them. The ship may burst into flames at any moment, and when she does, she'll go quickly. She's dry as a chip."

We numbered about thirty, all told, and to accommodate this many we had three good boats, upside down on the forward house. These I soon had over the side, floating light upon the smooth sea at the ends of their painters, and we provisioned them as heavily as was safe with our added weight. When all was ready I reported.