The Ship of Shadows. H. Bedford-Jones
below, overjoyed. For a space Venable stood at the rail, gazing with wide eyes at the blue sky and the blue-gray whorls of water; in that moment it seemed to him that after all, God lived—that in the far, clean depths of sky and sea were typified the vast omniscience of the Creator, governing all things! The brief moment swiftly passed. Venable turned away, his lips set in renewed lines of bitterness. He could see no light ahead, no future, nothing! This was the mental result of the drug, of course.
So vanished the second phase of his seafaring; and now began the third phase. It was one of introspection, of self-battles. The old craving was terrible in its power; he felt all helpless, hopeless, careless of what happened.
He saw much of Garrity now, and was strengthened by the doglike affection of this man who had plucked him from the gutter. He was shamed at thought of what his life in that interlude had been. The sun and the salt air, the hard work, began to tell. Old forgotten oaths came to his lips. He doffed the sanctified mantle that had held him apart from worldly things these many years, being now a new man in a new environment. He could not crowd out of his soul the fact that he had once been called to be a priest of God; but it lay far in the background, not molesting him overmuch.
One night there was pandemonium below—a fight, a wild riot. Venable was caught in it, and he found himself fighting as in the old north-woods days of his youth. Some one laid him out, finally, all but splitting his skull with a firebar; and it was good for him—it helped greatly. It went to make up the combination of little things that were needed. Garrity looked on from afar and said nothing, but his eyes were happy as he observed the change in his friend.
The truth about Venable was that he had both won and lost from that voyage to Tientsin. He won much of himself back again; a share of his dead youth was resurrected and returned to him. He lost much of his unworldly, theological attitude, and gained in practical ways. To illustrate: the night they entered the river and were dodging up toward the Tientsin wharf, Venable had an argument with a Greek stoker; the Greek drew a knife, worn in defiance of American shipping law, and Venable half killed him with three blows. You may draw a large inference from this happening.
So, then, they tied up at the Tientsin wharf. The work was finished. All hands were paid off, and separated presumably for ever. Venable and Terence Garrity walked ashore and to the fate destined them.
IT was late afternoon, and both men had money. Garrity caught a jinrikisha and directed their course to a decent place that he knew, in the French Settlement just across Bristow Road. On their way they passed through Victoria Road and the British Settlement; Venable was astonished at the beauty of the city, at its ultra civilization. Because he had come to China, he had expected pigtails and pagodas on every hand.
“Don’t ye believe it!” said Garrity sagely. “The world’s the world, Parson, and ye can’t get away from it nohow—except only at sea, and there’s more damned rules an’ conventions there than ashore. Ye can’t get away from the world, for a fact!”
Two hours later, having bathed and dined, they sat together in their room. Garrity broached what was uppermost in his mind—their immediate future.
“I’m urgin’ nothin’ on ye, Parson. Say what’s in your brain; that’s all; say what ye want to do, where ye want to go—up, down or roundabout—and I’m with ye while I’m wanted! You’re your own boss now, me lad. If ye want to go to hell again, we’ll go together!”
VENABLE laughed. He was amused by the situation and by the man Garrity. The steel in him was cropping out now.
“I’ve been a tremendous fool,” he said shortly.
“Ye have. And will ye now be a fool again?”
Venable shook his head, a curious steadiness in his deep-set eyes. “I think not.”
“Praise be!” exclaimed Garrity. “What will ye do, now? Go back to preachin’, maybe?”
“No.” Venable stroked his gray hair. “I’m an old man, Garrity, older than my years! This trip has shown me things; this trip across the Pacific has brought back to me things I’ve lost since boyhood. I don’t know just what I’ll do, but for the present—”
He paused. Then, suddenly, he smiled. “Terence Garrity, six months ago I stood high in the world; out of all my friends and brethren, not one but gave me up as a hopeless degenerate. A man who picked me up on the street, at my lowest point, is my best friend on this earth—and as long as he’ll have me, I’ll stick with him and bid the world go hang!”
“Oh!” cried Garrity, shoving forth his fist delightedly. “God love ye, Parson—shake! I was afraid ye’d be done with me. And to-morry we’ll look up a job, eh?”
Venable nodded.
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