The Master, A
Worthy Man, So Far As I Ever Saw Of Him, Was Goth, Vandal, Hun,
Visigoth, All In One.
The ship was damp, dark, dirty, old, and cold.
She was not warmed by steam, and the fire could not be lighted because
of a smoky chimney.
There were no lamps, and the sparse candles were
obviously grudged. The stewards were dirty and desponding, the serving
inhospitable, the cooking dirty and greasy, the food scanty, the
table-linen frowsy. There were four French and two Japanese male
passengers, who sat at meals in top-coats, comforters, and hats. I had
a large cabin, the salon des dames, and the undivided attention of a
very competent, but completely desponding stewardess. Being debarred
from the deck by incessant showers of spray, sleet, and snow, and the
cold of mid-winter being unbearable in the dark, damp saloon, I went
to bed at four for the first two days. On the third it blew half a
gale, with a short violent sea, and this heavy weather lasted till we
reached Hong Kong, five days afterward. During those cold, dark, noisy
days, when even the stewards could scarcely keep their feet, I suffered
so much in my spine from the violent movements of the ship that I did
not leave my cabin; and besides being unable to read, write, or work,
owing to the darkness, I was obliged to hold on by day and night to
avoid being much hurt by the rolling, my berth being athwart ships;
consequently, that week, which I had relied upon for "overtaking" large
arrears of writing and sewing, was so much lost out of
life - irrecoverably and shamefully lost, I felt - as each dismal day,
dawned and died without sunrise or sunset, on the dark and stormy
Pacific.
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