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Authors: Dennis Wheatley
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to the point. You don’t believe in God you say—so what?’
‘Dat’s so, Bass, but I believe in Man—man an’ Nature. It’s Man who is Nature’s greatest creation an’ he shoo is her master. Maybe yoo’s heard o’ dat old proverb, “Man proposes an’ God disposes”. Well, dat li’l old proverb ought to be rewrit, “Nature arranges an’ Man rearranges”
‘What’s all this leading to?’
‘You says, Bass, dat ’cause Fate or God or whatever yoo call it has fix der number o’ folks in dis boat dat can’t be altered. I’m sayin’ dat Man bein’ Man wi’ all der freewill in der world—it can.’
‘How?’
‘Der shoo is a variety o’ ways.’
‘Let’s hear ’em.’
‘Only der strong guy is goin’ to make der grade dis trip, Bass. I’s sorry fer der dames an’ der feller who got smacked down by dat oar, and der ole puss here with der dicky leg, but dey ain’t got no chance nohow. Der grub dey’s eatin’ would keep us tough fellers goin’ another day or maybe two. Six folks less in dis boat ‘ud give us an extra thirty per cent chance o’ gettin’ some place or bein’ picked up alive; so der six weakest folks is jus’ unfortunate. Dey got to liquidate or be liquidated, like dem Russian Communist guys say—see?’
‘Harlem’s right, mister,’ the half-caste Gietto Nudäa backed him up.
‘You infernal scoundrels,’ Colonel Carden lurched forward and raised his fist to shake it in the Negro’s face. Basil grabbed his shoulder and forcibly pulled him back again.
‘Take your hands off me, sir!’ the Colonel bellowed, turning furiously upon the young man. ‘If you had a spark of manliness in your drink-sodden carcase you’d help me throw this murderous devil out of the boat.’
‘Oh, dear no!’ Basil laughed lightly. ‘I’m a bit of a gourmet you know and I’ve never eaten Colonel. If we let him have his way I’ll be able to try a slice of Colonel’s saddle naturally pickled for forty years in port. I really couldn’t resist that.’
It was Tuesday, 11th January, and they had been thirty-two hours in the boat when they roused next morning, but there was no bright dawn to wake them; the sky was overcast, and the daylight filtered through grey banks of cloud.
Watches had been kept throughout the night in case the lights of a passing ship showed on the horizon, so that they could be roused immediately to pull towards it while the look-out signalled with the lantern, but no friendly glimmer had appeared to bring them hope.
Basil’s sally the night before had mortally offended the Colonel, but that was of little moment as the old man had never regarded him with anything except cordial dislike. What did matter was that, temporarily at all events, it had dissipated a very tense and dangerous atmosphere. Not a man in the boat, apart from Harlem, was yet so mentally warped by thirst and privation as even to dream of laying a hand on one of the passengers, and Basil’s purposely ludicrous suggestion that they should eat the old boy had been followed by a sudden roar of laughter. Angry and discomfited, Harlem had abandoned the discussion and shuffled off forward with his tittering cronies to settle down for the night.
When daylight brought the boat’s company back to consciousness they roused up listlessly from a comfortless, unrefreshing sleep taken in snatches on the hard bottom boards with bundles for pillows and a ship’s blanket or odd piece of tarpaulin for bedding.
It was calmer than the day before. The breeze had dropped to light airs that barely rippled the surface of the water; the long rolling swell had disappeared.
The sail was set again, but except for an occasional puff of wind which billowed it out to carry them a few fathoms it flapped noisily against the mast or hung slack and useless.
The morning ration was issued and eaten in despondent silence. The sun broke through the clouds and gradually the sky cleareduntil it was once more a hard, bright
‘Dat’s so, Bass, but I believe in Man—man an’ Nature. It’s Man who is Nature’s greatest creation an’ he shoo is her master. Maybe yoo’s heard o’ dat old proverb, “Man proposes an’ God disposes”. Well, dat li’l old proverb ought to be rewrit, “Nature arranges an’ Man rearranges”
‘What’s all this leading to?’
‘You says, Bass, dat ’cause Fate or God or whatever yoo call it has fix der number o’ folks in dis boat dat can’t be altered. I’m sayin’ dat Man bein’ Man wi’ all der freewill in der world—it can.’
‘How?’
‘Der shoo is a variety o’ ways.’
‘Let’s hear ’em.’
‘Only der strong guy is goin’ to make der grade dis trip, Bass. I’s sorry fer der dames an’ der feller who got smacked down by dat oar, and der ole puss here with der dicky leg, but dey ain’t got no chance nohow. Der grub dey’s eatin’ would keep us tough fellers goin’ another day or maybe two. Six folks less in dis boat ‘ud give us an extra thirty per cent chance o’ gettin’ some place or bein’ picked up alive; so der six weakest folks is jus’ unfortunate. Dey got to liquidate or be liquidated, like dem Russian Communist guys say—see?’
‘Harlem’s right, mister,’ the half-caste Gietto Nudäa backed him up.
‘You infernal scoundrels,’ Colonel Carden lurched forward and raised his fist to shake it in the Negro’s face. Basil grabbed his shoulder and forcibly pulled him back again.
‘Take your hands off me, sir!’ the Colonel bellowed, turning furiously upon the young man. ‘If you had a spark of manliness in your drink-sodden carcase you’d help me throw this murderous devil out of the boat.’
‘Oh, dear no!’ Basil laughed lightly. ‘I’m a bit of a gourmet you know and I’ve never eaten Colonel. If we let him have his way I’ll be able to try a slice of Colonel’s saddle naturally pickled for forty years in port. I really couldn’t resist that.’
It was Tuesday, 11th January, and they had been thirty-two hours in the boat when they roused next morning, but there was no bright dawn to wake them; the sky was overcast, and the daylight filtered through grey banks of cloud.
Watches had been kept throughout the night in case the lights of a passing ship showed on the horizon, so that they could be roused immediately to pull towards it while the look-out signalled with the lantern, but no friendly glimmer had appeared to bring them hope.
Basil’s sally the night before had mortally offended the Colonel, but that was of little moment as the old man had never regarded him with anything except cordial dislike. What did matter was that, temporarily at all events, it had dissipated a very tense and dangerous atmosphere. Not a man in the boat, apart from Harlem, was yet so mentally warped by thirst and privation as even to dream of laying a hand on one of the passengers, and Basil’s purposely ludicrous suggestion that they should eat the old boy had been followed by a sudden roar of laughter. Angry and discomfited, Harlem had abandoned the discussion and shuffled off forward with his tittering cronies to settle down for the night.
When daylight brought the boat’s company back to consciousness they roused up listlessly from a comfortless, unrefreshing sleep taken in snatches on the hard bottom boards with bundles for pillows and a ship’s blanket or odd piece of tarpaulin for bedding.
It was calmer than the day before. The breeze had dropped to light airs that barely rippled the surface of the water; the long rolling swell had disappeared.
The sail was set again, but except for an occasional puff of wind which billowed it out to carry them a few fathoms it flapped noisily against the mast or hung slack and useless.
The morning ration was issued and eaten in despondent silence. The sun broke through the clouds and gradually the sky cleareduntil it was once more a hard, bright
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