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I said after a silence. "Yes, I made him ... about himself." "And to the point?" "If you mean by this," said Marlow, "that it was about the voyage of the Ferndale, then again, yes. I brought him to talk about that voyage, which, by the by, was not the first voyage of Flora de Barral. The man himself, as I told you, is simple, and his faculty of wonder not very great.
"The Ferndale went down like a stone and Captain Anthony went down with her, the finest man's soul that ever left a sailor's body. I raved like a maniac, like a devil, with a lot of fools crowding round me and asking, `Aren't you the captain? "I wasn't fit to tie the shoe-strings of the man you have drowned," I screamed at them... Well! Well!
She let herself be carried along by a mysterious force which her person had called into being, as her father had been carried away out of his depth by the unexpected power of successful advertising. They went on board that morning. The Ferndale had just come to her loading berth. The only living creature on board was the ship-keeper whether the same who had been described to us by Mr.
I acquiesced and very soon he observed dreamily: "I was with Captain and Mrs Anthony sailing all over the world for near on six years. Almost as long as Franklin." "Oh yes! What about Franklin?" I asked. Powell smiled. "He left the Ferndale a year or so afterwards, and I took his place. Captain Anthony recommended him for a command.
The water gleamed placidly, no movement anywhere on the long straight lines of the quays, no one about to be seen except the few dock hands busy alongside the Ferndale, knowing their work, mostly silent or exchanging a few words in low tones as if they, too, had been aware of that lady 'who mustn't be disturbed. The Ferndale was the only ship to leave that tide.
No good man need ever have thought of leaving the Ferndale unless he were a fool. Some good men are fools. Don't know when they are well off. I mean the best of good men; men that you would do anything for. They go on for years, then all of a sudden " Our young friend listened to the mate with a queer sense of discomfort growing on him.
The others seemed still asleep, without a sound, and only here and there a figure, coming up on the forecastle, leaned on the rail to watch the proceedings idly. Without trouble and fuss and almost without a sound was the Ferndale leaving the land, as if stealing away.
Others were coming down the lane between tall, blind walls, surrounding a hand-cart loaded with more bags and boxes. It was the crew of the Ferndale. They began to come on board. He scanned their faces as they passed forward filling the roomy deck with the shuffle of their footsteps and the murmur of voices, like the awakening to life of a world about to be launched into space.
He had come to relieve young Powell; but seeing him engaged in talk with the "enemy" with one of the "enemies" at least had kept at a distance, which, the poop of the Ferndale being aver seventy feet long, he had no difficulty in doing. Mr. Powell saw him at the head of the ladder leaning on his elbow, melancholy and silent. "Oh! Here you are, sir." "Here I am.
Brown till she actually stopped before him for a moment to say: "Mrs. Anthony doesn't want any assistance, sir." This was you understand the voyage before Mr. Powell young Powell then joined the Ferndale; chance having arranged that he should get his start in life in that particular ship of all the ships then in the port of London. The most unrestful ship that ever sailed out of any port on earth.
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