Tracks Of A Rolling Stone, Henry J. Coke [kiss me liar novel english txt] 📗
- Author: Henry J. Coke
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Propensity With Man.
The Familiar Aphorism Of Statius: Primus In Orbe Deos Fecit
Timor, Points To The Relation Of Animism First To The Belief
In Ghosts, Thence To Polytheism, And Ultimately To
Monotheism. I Must Apologise To Those Of The Transcendental
School Who, Like Max Muller For Instance (Introduction To The
'Science Of Religion'), Hold That We Have 'A Primitive
Intuition Of God'; Which, After All, The Professor Derives,
Like Many Others, From The 'Yearning For Something That
Neither Sense Nor Reason Can Supply'; And From The Assumption
That 'There Was In The Heart Of Man From The Very First A
Feeling Of Incompleteness, Of Weakness, Of Dependency, &C.'
All This, I Take It, Is Due To The Aspirations Of A Much
Later Creature Than The 'Pithecanthropus Erectus,' To Whom We
Here Refer.
Probably Spirits And Ghosts Were Originally Of An Evil Kind.
Sir John Lubbock ('The Origin Of Civilisation') Says: 'The
Baying Of The Dog To The Moon Is As Much An Act Of Worship As
Some Ceremonies Which Have Been So Described By Travellers.'
I Think He Would Admit That Fear Is The Origin Of The
Worship. In His Essay On 'Superstition,' Hume Writes:
'Weakness, Fear, Melancholy, Together With Ignorance, Are The
True Sources Of Superstition.' Also 'In Such A State Of
Mind, Infinite Unknown Evils Are Dreaded From Unknown
Agents.'
Man's Impotence To Resist The Forces Of Nature, And Their
Terrible Ability To Injure Him, Would Inspire A Sense Of
Terror; Which In Turn Would Give Rise To The Twofold Notion
Of Omnipotence And Malignity. The Savage Of The Present Day
Lives In Perpetual Fear Of Evil Spirits; And The
Superstitious Dread, Which I And Most Others Have Suffered,
Is Inherited From Our Savage Ancestry. How Much Further Back
We Must Seek It May Be Left To The Sage Philosophers Of The
Future.
Chapter 7 Pg 35
The Next Winter We Lay For A Couple Of Months Off Chinhai,
Which We Had Stormed, Blockading The Mouth Of The Ningpo
River. Here, I Regret To Think, I Committed An Act Which Has
Often Haunted My Conscience As A Crime; Although I Had
Frequently Promised The Captain Of A Gun A Glass Of Grog To
Let Me Have A Shot, And Was Mightily Pleased If Death And
Destruction Rewarded My Aim.
Off Chinhai, Lorchers And Fast Sailing Junks Laden With
Merchandise Would Try To Run The Blockade Before Daylight.
And It Sometimes Happened That We Youngsters Had A Long Chase
In A Cutter To Overhaul Them. This Meant Getting Back To A
Nine Or Ten O'clock Breakfast At The End Of The Morning's
Watch; Equivalent To Five Or Six Hours' Duty On An Empty
Stomach.
One Cold Morning I Had A Hard Job To Stop A Small Junk. The
Men Were Sweating At Their Oars Like Galley Slaves, And
Muttering Curses At The Apparent Futility Of Their Labour. I
Had Fired A Couple Of Shots From A 'Brown Bess' - The Musket
Of The Day - Through The Fugitive's Sails; And Fearing
Punishment If I Let Her Escape, I Next Aimed At The Boat
Herself. Down Came The Mainsail In A Crack. When I Boarded
Our Capture, I Found I Had Put A Bullet Through The Thigh Of
The Man At The Tiller. Boys Are Not Much Troubled With
Scruples About Bloodguiltiness, And Not Unfrequently Are Very
Cruel, For Cruelty As A Rule (With Exceptions) Mostly
Proceeds From Thoughtlessness. But When I Realised What I
Had Done, And Heard The Wretched Man Groan, I Was Seized With
Remorse For What, At A More Hardened Stage, I Should Have
Excused On The Score Of Duty.
It Was During This Blockade That The Accident, Which I Have
Already Alluded To, Befell My Dear Protector, Jack Johnson.
One Night, During His And My Middle Watch, The Forecastle
Sentries Hailed A Large Sampan, Like A Thames Barge, Drifting
Down Stream And Threatening To Foul Us. Sir Frederick
Nicholson, The Officer Of The Watch, Ordered Johnson To Take
The Cutter And Tow Her Clear.
I Begged Leave To Go With Him. Sir Frederick Refused, For He
At Once Suspected Mischief. The Sampan Was Reached And
Diverted Just Before She Swung Athwart Our Bows. But
Scarcely Was This Achieved, When An Explosion Took Place. My
Friend Was Knocked Over, And One Or Two Of The Men Fell Back
Into The Cutter. This Is What Had Happened: Johnson Finding
No One In The Sampan, Cautiously Raised One Of The Deck
Hatches With A Boat-Hook Before He Left The Cutter. The Mine
(For Such It Proved) Was So Arranged That Examination Of This
Kind Drew A Lighted Match On To The Magazine, Which Instantly
Chapter 7 Pg 36Exploded.
Poor Jack! What Was My Horror When We Got Him On Board!
Every Trace Of His Handsome Features Was Gone. He Was Alive,
And That Seemed To Be All. In A Few Minutes His Head And
Face Swelled So That All Was A Round Black Charred Ball. One
Could Hardly See Where The Eyes Were, Buried Beneath The
Powder-Ingrained And Incrusted Flesh.
For Weeks, At Night, I Used To Sit On A Chest Near His
Hammock, Listening For His Slightest Movement, Too Happy If
He Called Me For Something I Could Get Him. In Time He
Recovered, And Was Invalided Home, And I Lost My Dear
Companion And Protector. A Couple Of Years Afterwards I Had
The Happiness To Dine With Him On Board Another Ship In
Portsmouth, No Longer In The Midshipman's Berth, But In The
Wardroom.
Twice During This War, The 'Blonde' Was Caught In A Typhoon.
The First Time Was In Waters Now Famous, But Then Unknown,
The Gulf Of Liau-Tung, In Full Sight Of China's Great Wall.
We Were Twenty-Four Hours Battened Down, And Under Storm
Staysails. The 'Blenheim,' With Captain Elliott Our
Plenipotentiary On Board, Was With Us, And The One
Circumstance Left In My Memory Is The Sight Of A Line-Of-
Battle Ship Rolling And Pitching So That One Caught Sight Of
The Whole Of Her Keel From Stem To Stern As If She Had Been A
Fishing Smack. We Had Been Wintering In The Yellow Sea, And
At The Time I Speak Of Were On A Foraging Expedition Round
The Liau-Tung Peninsula. Those Who Have Followed The Events
Of The Japanese War Will Have Noticed On The Map, Not Far
North Of Ta-Lien-Wan In The Korean Bay, Three Groups Of
Islands. So Little Was The Geography Of These Parts Then
Known, That They Had No Place On Our Charts. On This Very
Occasion, One Group Was Named After Captain Elliott, One Was
Called The Bouchier Islands, And The Other The Blonde
Islands. The First Surveying Of The Two Latter Groups, And
The Placing Of Them Upon The Map, Was Done By Our Naval
Instructor, And He Always Took Me With Him As His Assistant.
Our Second Typhoon Was While We Were At Anchor In Hong Kong
Harbour. Those Who Have Knowledge Only Of The Gales, However
Violent, Of Our Latitudes, Have No Conception Of What Wind-
Force Can Mount To. To Be The Toy Of It Is Enough To Fill
The Stoutest Heart With Awe. The Harbour Was Full Of
Transports, Merchant Ships, Opium Clippers, Besides Four Or
Five Men-Of-War, And A Steamer Belonging To The East India
Company - The First Steamship I Had Ever Seen.
The Coming Of A Typhoon Is Well Known To The Natives At Least
Twenty-Four Hours Beforehand, And Every Preparation Is Made
For It. Boats Are Dragged Far Up The Beach; Buildings Even
Are Fortified For Resistance. Every Ship Had Laid Out Its
Anchors, Lowered Its Yards, And Housed Its Topmasts. We Had
Chapter 7 Pg 37Both Bowers Down, With Cables Paid Out To Extreme Length.
The Danger Was Either In Drifting On Shore Or, What Was More
Imminent, Collision. When Once The Tornado Struck Us There
Was Nothing More To Be Done; No Men Could Have Worked On
Deck. The Seas Broke By Tons Over All; Boats Beached As
Described Were Lifted From The Ground, And Hurled, In Some
Instances, Over The Houses. The Air Was Darkened By The
Spray.
But Terrible As Was The Raging Of Wind And Water, Far More
Awful Was The Vain Struggle For Life Of The Human Beings Who
Succumbed To It. In A Short Time Almost All The Ships Except
The Men-Of-War, Which Were Better Provided With Anchors,
Began To Drift From Their Moorings. Then Wreck Followed
Wreck. I Do Not Think The 'Blonde' Moved; But From First To
Last We Were Threatened With The Additional Weight And Strain
Of A Drifting Vessel. Had We Been So Hampered Our Anchorage
Must Have Given Way. As A Single Example Of The Force Of A
Typhoon, The 'Phlegethon' With Three Anchors Down, And
Engines Working At Full Speed, Was Blown Past Us Out Of The
Harbour.
One Tragic Incident I Witnessed, Which Happened Within A Few
Fathoms Of The 'Blonde.' An Opium Clipper Had Drifted
Athwart The Bow Of A Large Merchantman, Which In Turn Was
Almost Foul Of Us. In Less Than Five Minutes The Clipper
Sank. One Man Alone Reappeared On The Surface. He Was So
Close, That From Where I Was Holding On And Crouching Under
The Lee Of The Mainmast I Could See The Expression Of His
Face. He Was A Splendidly Built Man, And His Strength And
Activity Must Have Been Prodigious. He Clung To The Cable Of
The Merchantman, Which He Had Managed To Clasp. As The
Vessel Reared Between The Seas He Gained A Few Feet Before He
Was Again Submerged. At Last He Reached The Hawse-Hole. Had
He Hoped, In Spite Of His Knowledge, To Find It Large Enough
To Admit His Body? He Must Have Known The Truth; And Yet He
Struggled On. Did He Hope That, When Thus Within Arms'
Length Of Men In Safety, Some Pitying Hand Would Be Stretched
Out To Rescue Him, - A Rope's End Perhaps Flung Out To Haul
Him Inboard? Vain Desperate Hope! He Looked Upwards: An
Imploring Look. Would Heaven Be More Compassionate Than Man?
A Mountain Of Sea Towered Above His Head; And When Again The
Bow Was Visible, The Man Was Gone For Ever.
Before Taking Leave Of My Seafaring Days, I Must Say One Word
About Corporal Punishment. Sir Thomas Bouchier Was A Good
Sailor, A Gallant Officer, And A Kind-Hearted Man; But He Was
One Of The Old School. Discipline Was His Watchword, And He
Endeavoured To Maintain It By Severity. I Dare Say That, On
An Average, There Was A Man Flogged As Often As Once A Month
During The First Two Years The 'Blonde' Was In Commission. A
Flogging On Board A Man-Of-War With A 'Cat,' The Nine Tails
Of Which Were Knotted, And The Lashes Of Which Were Slowly
Delivered, Up
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