I mounted to the roof of the house and posted myself at the extreme end. There was a chair there. I placed it so that I could command a view of the gangway, and there I sat, still very sick and faint, detesting myself for this weakness, yet excusing myself, too, for surely never could there happen a moment in a woman’s life more charged with supreme tragic interest than this.
The two boats drew alongside, the quarter-boat laden with casks of fresh water. The first to step on deck was Rotch. I knew him instantly. His face, whilst he stood in the witness-box, giving evidence against Tom, had burnt itself into my memory. I should have been able then, as I should be able now, to pick him out in a moment from amongst a thousand. He sprang into the main-chains and got over the bulwarks actively. He was dressed in blue cloth and a blue cloth cap with a naval peak. His face was sallow, as though he was newly recovered from an illness. He was of Tom’s height, without my sweetheart’s manly breadth and inimitable sailorly carriage. But he was an exceedingly handsome man. Many might have thought him handsomer than Tom.
After he had come on board there was some delay. Two or three vigorous islanders then climbed over the side, and, with much trouble and no little peril—for the swell hove the boat very high and sank her very low, whilst the brig leaned heavily away and then depressed her other rail till you thought she had submerged the line of it—the carpenter Nodder was lifted through the gangway. He stood with difficulty and leaned upon an islander’s arm. He was at some little distance from me, but my sight was good; he seemed ghastly ill, the ghastlier because of the length of his greasy, carroty locks of hair and the villainous aspect he took from his deformed eye. He was dressed in old canvas trousers, an old monkey-jacket, and a fur cap.
I had lost sight of Rotch. Bates spoke to Nodder. Whilst this was doing, a third fellow came on board; he was John Collins, the seaman who had been saved with Rotch and the carpenter. He took hold of Nodder and led him slowly forward and helped him into the forecastle through the scuttle.
I’ll now tell you what happened as straight-forwardly and briefly as I can dictate it. The islanders went to work to get the water on board and stow the casks. They sprang like goats, so fleet were their sure feet, as mountaineers. Collins came out of the forecastle and helped them. I walked toward the fore part of the deck-house to observe that man; he was just a plain, average example of the foremast-hand, freckled, yellow-haired, a mat of reddish beard upon his throat, big, silly, wandering eyes; his clothes, duck breeches, flannel shirt, and old Scotch cap. I drew back, hearing the voice of Rotch, and returned to my chair.
Presently they had whipped all the water below and were busy in hoisting the quarter-boat aboard. Whilst this was doing, Rotch came up the deck-house steps; he looked at the island whilst he mounted the ladder, and did not observe me till he was on the roof of the house. He came to a stand very abruptly, and, after staring with many tokens of astonishment in his posture and looks, lifted his cap. I turned my head. No doubt he was surprised to find a well-dressed woman sitting on the deck-house top of that little brig of two hundred tons.
Well dressed I was, as dress then went; to be sure, I had worn my gown every day during the fortnight we had been on board the Old Stormy, but then it was almost a new dress when I took it off and packed it up at Woolwich, and it still looked new. I remember that gown very well; it was of black merino with a velvet cape, long sleeves for which I had no wristbands, the bodice with an embroidered collar and bound to the waist by a band. My hat was narrow-brimmed with curled feathers; this sort of headgear had not long been in fashion when I purchased the thing. I was without jewelry and other finishing details, but the fellow Rotch, at a little distance, would detect no omissions; he found a well-dressed, nay, I may almost call the figure a fashionably-dressed woman viewing the proceedings of the islanders, and his bearing and prolonged stare expressed his surprise.
I was unable to look at him; that is, whilst he looked at me. The devil that was in Tom was in me too. I could have shot the horrid villain as he stood there. But now, in the corners of my eyes, I beheld him approaching. I trembled violently; the throbbing of my heart made me feel ill again. Yet I thought to myself, if the man accosts me I must answer and be civil. Times are when the human instincts are preternatural in divination. The contagion of our secret may have been in the air. Such must be that villain’s conscience that, let him suspect a trap, no matter how dim and faint his suspicion, he’d fling himself into the whale-boat while she was still alongside, and Tom would lose him.
Rightly or wrongly, thus I thought, in the few seconds of his approach; and now he stood close and was addressing me.
‘May I inquire,’ said he, lifting his cap again, ‘if I have the pleasure of speaking to the wife of the captain of this brig?’