De cómo se suceden
los días de viaje, en medio del sol, con las costumbres de aislarse de los
nativos. Del original inglés Lord Jim
'Look at dese
cattle,' said the German skipper to his new chief mate.
An Arab, the
leader of that pious voyage, came last. He walked slowly aboard, handsome and
grave in his white gown and large turban. A string of servants followed, loaded
with his luggage; the Patna cast off and backed away from the wharf.
She was headed between
two small islets, crossed obliquely the anchoring-ground of sailing-ships,
swung through half a circle in the shadow of a hill, then ranged close to a ledge of foaming reefs.
The Arab,
standing up aft, recited aloud the prayer of travellers by sea. He invoked the
favour of the Most High upon that journey, implored His blessing on men's toil
and on the secret purposes of their hearts; the steamer pounded in the dusk the
calm water of the Strait; and far astern
of the pilgrim ship a screw-pile lighthouse, planted by unbelievers on a
treacherous shoal, seemed to wink at
her its eye of flame, as if in derision of her errand of faith.
She cleared the
Strait, crossed the bay, continued on her way through the 'One-degree' passage.
She held on straight for the Red Sea under a serene sky, under a sky scorching and unclouded, enveloped in a
fulgor of sunshine that killed all thought, oppressed the heart, withered all impulses of strength and
energy. And under the sinister splendour of that sky the sea, blue and
profound, remained still, without a stir, without a ripple, without a wrinkle—viscous,
stagnant, dead. The Patna, with a
slight hiss, passed over that plain, luminous and smooth, unrolled a black
ribbon of smoke across the sky, left behind her on the water a white ribbon of
foam that vanished at once, like the phantom of a track drawn upon a lifeless
sea by the phantom of a steamer.