It had known and served all the men of whom the nation is proud, from Sir Francis Drake to Sir John Franklin, knights all, titled and untitled-the great knights-errant of the sea. The tidal current runs to and fro in its unceasing service, crowded with memories of men and ships it had borne to the rest of home or to the battles of the sea. And indeed nothing is easier for a man who has, as the phrase goes, “followed the sea” with reverence and affection, than to evoke the great spirit of the past upon the lower reaches of the Thames. We looked at the venerable stream not in the vivid flush of a short day that comes and departs for ever, but in the august light of abiding memories.
The old river in its broad reach rested unruffled at the decline of day, after ages of good service done to the race that peopled its banks, spread out in the tranquil dignity of a waterway leading to the uttermost ends of the earth. Only the gloom to the west, brooding over the upper reaches, became more sombre every minute, as if angered by the approach of the sun.Īnd at last, in its curved and imperceptible fall, the sun sank low, and from glowing white changed to a dull red without rays and without heat, as if about to go out suddenly, stricken to death by the touch of that gloom brooding over a crowd of men.įorthwith a change came over the waters, and the serenity became less brilliant but more profound. The water shone pacifically the sky, without a speck, was a benign immensity of unstained light the very mist on the Essex marsh was like a gauzy and radiant fabric, hung from the wooded rises inland, and draping the low shores in diaphanous folds. The day was ending in a serenity of still and exquisite brilliance. We felt meditative, and fit for nothing but placid staring. For some reason or other we did not begin that game of dominoes. Afterwards there was silence on board the yacht. The director, satisfied the anchor had good hold, made his way aft and sat down amongst us. He had sunken cheeks, a yellow complexion, a straight back, an ascetic aspect, and, with his arms dropped, the palms of hands outwards, resembled an idol. Marlow sat cross-legged right aft, leaning against the mizzen-mast. The Accountant had brought out already a box of dominoes, and was toying architecturally with the bones. The Lawyer-the best of old fellows-had, because of his many years and many virtues, the only cushion on deck, and was lying on the only rug. Besides holding our hearts together through long periods of separation, it had the effect of making us tolerant of each other's yarns-and even convictions. It was difficult to realize his work was not out there in the luminous estuary, but behind him, within the brooding gloom.īetween us there was, as I have already said somewhere, the bond of the sea. He resembled a pilot, which to a seaman is trustworthiness personified. On the whole river there was nothing that looked half so nautical. We four affectionately watched his back as he stood in the bows looking to seaward. The Director of Companies was our captain and our host. The air was dark above Gravesend, and farther back still seemed condensed into a mournful gloom, brooding motionless over the biggest, and the greatest, town on earth. A haze rested on the low shores that ran out to sea in vanishing flatness. In the offing the sea and the sky were welded together without a joint, and in the luminous space the tanned sails of the barges drifting up with the tide seemed to stand still in red clusters of canvas sharply peaked, with gleams of varnished sprits. The sea-reach of the Thames stretched before us like the beginning of an interminable waterway. The flood had made, the wind was nearly calm, and being bound down the river, the only thing for it was to come to and wait for the turn of the tide. The Nellie, a cruising yawl, swung to her anchor without a flutter of the sails, and was at rest.
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