The Death Ship

by B. TRAVEN

  He found about ten yards or so of rope, which he tied around his body to have it ready and with him all the time. I found in a drawer a ball of strong cord about as thick as an ordinary pencil.

  “Let’s climb up on our deck,” Stanislav advised. “It’s better for us to sit there in the open than to stay inside. We would, be trapped here in this cabin the same minute she makes off, and then we would have no chance to get clear. Being in the open and free to move, there is always a chance of getting away in time.”

  We came up, and there we were sitting again on the aft wall of the main-house. The gale had become so hard that we had to hold on to the rings and hooks we found in the wall.

  Wilder and wilder the gale came up. Breakers powerful as trains at full speed crashed against the main-house. We expected any minute to see the bridge break off and be carried away. The breakers came higher and higher until every third breaker reached us and washed us all over. The skipper’s cabins and the mess-cabins were now flooded with water.

  “If this weather lasts all night through,” Stanislav said, “there will be nothing left of the bridge and fore part of the main-house by the morning. Looks like the sea is quite ready to carry off the whole house on midship. We’d better work before that happens, Pippip. Let’s climb up on the aft wall of the stem-house, where the rudder machinery is. Seems the safest place. But good-by, lordly eats and kingly drinks. The rudder-house has not enough left-overs to feed even a young mouse.”

  “All right with me, Stanislav, let’s go and make the rudder-house.”

  “There is still the probability that, supposing the weather calms down, part of the main-castle will stay. The house does not go off with just one blow. It breaks off piece by piece. We may just still wait an hour before we try to climb up. Here we have a hold, but while climbing we are at the mercy of the breakers; if they whip us at the wrong time, we are all washed off.”

  So we hung on waiting for our chance to start to climb.

  Three gigantic waves, each of them seemingly ten times as heavy as any of those that had licked the Empress so far, whipped against the wreck with such a roar that we thought the end of the world was close.

  The third of these gigantic breakers caused the Empress to rock heavily. She still stood firmly upon the reef, but we had the feeling that she had broken loose, or that one of the rocks between which she had been squeezed had cracked. She trembled as never before. We no longer were sure that she was standing upon the rocks like a tower.

  The sea seemed to know that the end of the Empress was near and that nothing could save her now from her fate. Dark thick clouds were tossed above us like so many torn rags. The storm seemed to grow into a greater rage so as not to be laughed at by the thundering and roaring waves.

  Through these rags of clouds we could see, for a few seconds, the shining stars that, in spite of all the uproar, called down upon us the eternal promise: “We are the Peace and the Rest!” Yet between these words of promise we could see another meaning: “Within the flames of never ceasing creation and restlessness, there we are enveloped; do not long for us if you are in want of peace and rest; we cannot give you anything which you do not find within yourself!”

  “Stanislav,” I hollered, “the breakers are coming on again. There she goes. The Empress is dragging off.”

  I saw, in the dim light of the stars, the first breaker closing in on the Empress like a huge dark monster.

  Then it fell upon us. We felt its hundreds of wet claws trying to tear us away from our hold.

  With all our strength we held on. But the Empress was lifted high up — standing for a while, it appeared to us, at the very peak of the bow then she made a half-turn and stood quivering and trembling as though in terrible fright or in pitiful pain.

  The second breaker leaped at us even more strongly, and we lost our breath under it. I felt that I had been thrown into the sea, but I still had iron rings in my hands, and so I knew that I was still on the ship.

  The Empress now moaned like a human being dying of horrible wounds. She turned around slightly. High up at her stern she staggered and began to lean over toward port side. We heard her hull cracking and heard hatches or masts breaking away. No longer did she stand upright with her stern straight up toward the clouds. Again she quivered all over. To see the death of a young woman who does not want to die cannot be more painful than watching the Empress resist so bravely the onrushing end. Strange it was that although my own end was as close as hers, I felt like a dying soldier on the battle-field who forgets his own death when he sees how painfully his buddy is making off to glory.

  Suddenly, almost without knowing it, I roared: “Stanislav, ahoy!”

  I did not know for sure if he had yelled also. I think he must have done so, but I heard nothing.

  The third breaker came on. It was the heaviest and most powerful of all. It came entirely conscious of its victory.

  The Empress seemed to have become indifferent already. She showed no reaction any longer. It was as though she had died of fright.

  The third breaker roared and thundered and raged. Yet it was a useless comedy. The Empress was dead. She did not tremble when this last breaker caught her, nor did she rock or waver. She lay down ever so gently. The little waves which run after the outgoing breaker like so many little tails caressed and kissed the Empress when she fell onto her knees and glided smoothly down into her last berth.

  Another breaker rushed on like a hustling undertaker. The Empress was softly lifted up once more, she was whirled around in a half-turn, and without cracking or knocking her hull upon the rocks, she was laid on her side, and with a last gargle, ghostly against the uproar of the sea, she was buried.

  Before she disappeared entirely, I heard Stanislav holler: “Jump off and swim, Pippip, swim for your life or you will be caught in the wash down. Get away from her.”

  It was not quite so easy to swim as Stanislav had suggested, for I had received a good knock on my arm by a broken mast or something that had broken loose.

  I nevertheless swam with all my strength. A wave had caught me, and it threw me far enough out of the wash so that I could make off the sinking Empress without being in danger of being caught by her eddy.

  “Pippip, ahoy!” I heard Stanislav yelling. “Where are you? Are you clear?”

  “I am. Come up here!” I hollered back. “Come on here! I have got plenty room for you. No, here! Here, ahoy. Here I am. Hold on. Here, here, come on. Ahoy, hoiho!”

  I had to holler some time before Stanislav could make out in which direction to swim to reach me.

  After a long while he came close. He reached me. I lent him a hand and he climbed up where I was hanging on.

  50

  “Like to know what’s this we are sitting on,” Stanislav asked. “I don’t know myself. I was thrown upon it,” I said. “I couldn’t even tell exactly how it happened. I figure it must be a wooden wall from one department of the bridge. Perhaps from the chart-room. Here are some iron rings set in with bolts and brass handles.”

  “I didn’t have time to look at the bridge cabins closely,” Stanislav said, “or else I would know where this wall comes from. Anyway, it doesn’t matter what it is and where it comes from. Lucky that there are still some parts on some cans that are still made of wood. Otherwise we should not be here.”

  I agreed. “Makes me think of the old story-books in which you can always see a sailor or a cabin-boy embracing a mast floating upon the high waves. Nothing doing in times like ours. Masts also are now made of steel. Just try to embrace a broken-off mast of a sunken ship today and see where you’ll head at high speed. If you ever see another picture like that in a book or in the movies, just cry out loud that the book-maker or the movie-director is a cheater. Sock him if you can get him.”

  “My, you have got a nerve to talk such silly nonsense right now under the conditions we are in.” Stanislav seemed to be sore at me.

  “What do you expect me to do? Mourn about a bucket that we
nt off under our feet? Sing hymns? Say my evening prayer kneeling before the bed? Or cry like mother’s baby who has put his fingers in the hot gravy? Hell, who knows where we shall meet within an hour or so? It’s now maybe my last chance to tell you what I think about steel tube masts. And, mark my words, that sure is something which ought not to be forgotten, because it is very important indeed. Masts are no longer of real use to make a good story.”

  Morning was still far away. The night was heavy and dark. The waves were high. We were thrown up and down. Hardly a star could be seen. It was cold. The sea was, on the other hand, lukewarm, as it is in the tropics.

  “We are lucky, damn it. Clear off and safe like that,” Stanislav said.

  “To the devil you go with your whining. Beseeching all the guys down at the bottom. You are a luck-killer. Waking up the whole safari to come up and get us. I wonder where you were raised. Unbelievers of heaven and hell. I say hell, that’s what I say. And damned we are, all of us. No getting away from the outfit. Shit in the goldfish. If you are sitting pretty, don’t yell about it. Knock wood. Oh, why did I ever in all my life put up with a blasphemous sailor like you? I don’t understand the Germans at all, why they could ever take a guy like you for a gob. No wonder they could not make Skagen and had to go home. Well, they were saved only by leaving you to the Danes.”

  “Won’t you shut up and let us think a bit to make sure what we are doing?” Stanislav broke in.

  “Think? Think? What do you want to think about? Tell me that. Sitting on a broken-off wooden wall in mid-ocean, and at midnight, and you want to think. I only wish I could get a separation so I wouldn’t have to see you any more. It makes me sick. Thinking.”

  “What else can we do right now? If we fall asleep we are finished.”

  How the world changes. For months and months we had to worry and be troubled about papers and identification cards. Then we had to worry about rats the size of huge cats. After this, or at the same time, we had to sweat and to bleed about dropped grate-bars. And now, all of a sudden, it does not matter any longer if there are passports in the world or if the world can go on without them. What does it matter if grate-bars fall out or not on the Yorikke? Sailor’s identification cards or not. Whatever a being may own is of no importance, of no concern at all. It is gone and useless. All we have is our breath. I shall fight for it with teeth and nails. I won’t give up and I won’t give in. Not yet. Not to the ground port.

  “My opinion of the merriments of life is different from what we have right here and now,” Stanislav broke up my reflections.

  To this I answered: “I think, Stanislav, to tell you the truth, you are again ungrateful to destiny. How changeable is human life! Just think. Yesterday you were half-owner of one of the finest ships of His Majesty’s merchant marine. You were half-owner of the most elegant store, with caviar, Scotch, and champagne. Now all is gone, and you are fighting with the fish for their eats. What else, what more pleasure do you expect in one lifetime? You cannot have everything. Others have it only in the stories. We have it in reality. Do you want to change places?”

  “I don’t know exactly. But I figure I might like to change places and rather read stories than live them. And if you talk any more of that kind and don’t hold on well to the rings and the handles, you won’t even have a chance left to live your stories.”

  He was right, Stanislav was. As usually he was. I had nearly been swept off the raft. The breakers were not felt as when we were still on the ship. The breakers now just played with us, taking us high up and then down again fifty feet. Often we were for almost a minute entirely submerged. This helped us not to forget that we were still on high sea and not reading a story in bed.

  “We must do something about it,” I suggested. “My arms are paralyzed. You know I got quite a crack on them. I am losing ground. I cannot hold on very much longer.”

  “Same with me,” Stanislav said. “We have still rope and cords about us. Let me have yours.”

  I got the cord I had tied around my waist while we were still on the ship, and Stanislav helped fasten me to the rings and handles. With my lame arm I could not have done it alone. This done, he tied himself upon the raft with the rope he had brought along.

  We were now ready to wait for the next adventure.

  After a thousand hours, or so it seemed, morning came and brought with it a calm day. The sea was still high.

  “See any land?” Stanislav asked.

  “Nothing I would know of. I always knew that I would not have discovered America, not even if I’d been washed against her shores. Well, I don’t see anything. Not even a smoke-line.”

  Stanislav suddenly made a jerking gesture: “Man, are we lucky? Fine that you picked up the compass in the old man’s cabin. Now we can sail.”

  “Yes, we can sail now,” I said; “at least we can now always make out in which direction lies the coast of Africa and which way America. All we need is sails, masts, a rudder, and the right wind. Little, isn’t it?”

  “Sure it is. But I have got the feeling we are going somewhere else. Neither shore.” That’s what Stanislav said.

  During the forenoon the sky had cleared. In the afternoon it became cloudy again. Before evening a slight mist began to settle over the sea. With this mist the sea calmed down and became rippled.

  The vast distances toward the horizon and the immensity of the sea shrank when the mist closed in on us. The sea became smaller with every minute, until we had the illusion that we were floating on an inland lake. As time went on, even this lake narrowed more and more. Now we felt as if drifting down a river. We had the sensation that we could touch the banks with our hands. The walls of mist seemed only to veil dimly the river-banks.

  We became drowsy. I dropped asleep and fell into dreams. When I woke I looked around and said: “Stanislav, man, look, there is the shore. Let’s get off and swim. It’s hardly a hundred yards off. Can’t you see? There, right behind that misty wall. I knew we were close to shore.”

  Somehow, both of us hadn’t the will-power to loosen the cords, make off, and swim that stretch to the shore. I simply could not, hard as I tried, get my thoughts clear and reason things out. There was something in my head or about my head that made my brain feel numb. Almost like being drunk. Or it was like I felt when I was bumped on the head by the shanghaiing gang. I wanted to talk to Stanislav. I only wanted to talk nonsense so as to keep awake. But I could not manage it. I saw that Stanislav was drowsy again and was falling asleep. So I could not resist and I also fell asleep.

  I woke up when water splashed into my face. Night had come.

  The mist was still upon the sea, which had now become glassy. An indication that the mist might turn to thick fog. But the mist was not heavy. It was only upon the water. High above me I could see the stars twinkling. I thought I heard them calling.

  Now I could see quite clearly the river-banks on both sides. We were still drifting down the river. It might be the Hudson or the Mississippi. How we had come there I could not figure out. It caused me pain to think. Then the mist banks opened. Great patches of it fluttered. Through these openings I could now see the thousands of twinkling lights of a great port. What a large harbor it was! It had skyscrapers and many other high office-buildings and apartment-houses. I saw the windows illuminated. Behind the windows there were people sitting and moving about. I saw their shadows. They all went about their own affairs, not realizing that here on this big river two sailors were drifting down helpless and out into the open sea.

  The skyscrapers and apartment-houses grew higher and still higher. I had to bend my head down against my neck to see the top of the highest buildings. What a huge city this was that we were drifting by! Twinkling lights far, far away, and close at hand also. The skyscrapers went on growing until they reached the very heights of the sky. So now the lights in the windows looked exactly like the stars in the firmament. Right straight above me, and in the zenith of the heavens, the tops of the skyscrapers closed in upon each
other, so much so that they were bent, touching each other. I became afraid that these high buildings bent over to such an extent might cave in any minute and bury me under their ruins. I was filled with a joyful hope that it would happen, and that that way I would be relieved from all the pain I felt, and, more than from everything else, from the thirst. I shook off the thought of thirst and of fresh water. But I could not help it. It came again. In my soul I began praying that the skyscrapers might fall down upon me and make an end of the world.

  A terrible fright caught me, and like mad I yelled: “There is a huge port. Stanislav, look! Get ready. Must be New York. Stanislav, can’t you see? Wake up! Hell, what are you so slow about?”

  Stanislav stirred, woke up, scratched himself, shivered from the cold, shook off his sleepiness, looked around, gazed into the mist, tried to penetrate the veils around us, stared at the river-banks.

  He made a gesture as though he had not seen right. He rubbed his eyes over and over again to get the salt out.

  Then, having looked around at all sides, he said: “You are dreaming, Pippip. Pull yourself together, old man! That’s no lights of a port. It’s only the stars that you are seeing. There are no river-banks. How could we be on a river? We are still out on the high sea. You can easily tell it by the long waves. We must be off coast no less than thirty miles. Maybe two hundred. Search me. Wonder if this damn night will never end.”

  I did not believe him. I could not believe him. I still wanted to get off the raft and swim over to the river-banks. While thinking about how many strokes I might have to make before I would reach the bank I fell asleep again.

  Thirst, hunger, and salt in my mouth woke me up.

  It was bright daylight.

  Stanislav was watching me. His eyes were red as if they were bleeding. The salt water had made my face feel as if covered with an iron crust.