Kabanata Kabanata 16 · 第16章
After the mysterious interview in the fore-chains, the one so abruptly
ended there by Billy, nothing especially germane to the story occurred
until the events now about to be narrated.
Elsewhere it has been said that owing to the lack of frigates (of course
better sailers than line-of-battle ships) in the English squadron up the
Straits at that period, the _Indomitable_[2] seventy-four was
occasionally employed not only as an available substitute for a scout,
but at times on detached service of more important kind. This was not
alone because of her sailing qualities, not common in a ship of her
rate, but quite as much probably, that the character of her commander,
it was thought, specially adapted him for any duty where under
unforeseen difficulties a prompt initiative might have to be taken in
some matter demanding knowledge and ability in addition to those
qualities employed in good seamanship. It was on an expedition of the
latter sort, a somewhat distant one, and when the _Indomitable_[2] was
almost at her furthest remove from the fleet, that in the latter part of
an afternoon-watch she unexpectedly came in sight of a ship of the
enemy. It proved to be a frigate. The latter, perceiving through the
glass that the weight of men and metal would be heavily against her,
invoking her light heels, crowded sail to get away. After a chase urged
almost against hope, and lasting until about the middle of the first
dog-watch, she signally succeeded in effecting her escape.
Not long after the pursuit had been given up, and ere the excitement
incident thereto had altogether waned away, the master-at-arms,
ascending from his cavernous sphere, made his appearance cap in hand by
the mainmast, respectfully waiting the notice of Captain Vere, then
solitary walking the weather-side of the quarter-deck, doubtless
somewhat chafed at the failure of the pursuit. The spot where Claggart
stood was the place allotted to men of lesser grades seeking some more
particular interview either with the officer of the deck or the captain
himself. But from the latter it was not often that a sailor or petty
officer of those days would seek a hearing; only some exceptional cause
would, according to established custom, have warranted that.
Presently, just as the commander, absorbed in his reflections, was on
the point of turning aft in his promenade, he became sensible of
Claggart’s presence, and saw the doffed cap held in deferential
expectancy. Here be it said that Captain Vere’s personal knowledge of
this petty officer had only begun at the time of the ship’s last sailing
from home, Claggart then for the first, in transfer from a ship detained
for repairs, supplying on board the _Indomitable_[3] the place of a
previous master-at-arms disabled and ashore.
No sooner did the commander observe who it was that now so deferentially
stood awaiting his notice, than a peculiar expression came over his
face. It was not unlike that which uncontrollably will flit across the
countenance of one at unawares encountering a person who though known to
him indeed has hardly been long enough known for thorough knowledge, but
something in whose aspect nevertheless now for the first provokes a
vaguely repellent distaste. But coming to a stand, and resuming much of
his wonted official manner, save that a sort of impatience lurked in the
intonation of the opening word, he said, ‘Well, what is it,
master-at-arms?’
With the air of a subordinate grieved at the necessity of being a
messenger of ill-tidings, and while conscientiously determined to be
frank, yet equally resolved upon shunning overstatement, Claggart at
this invitation, or rather summons to disburthen, spoke up. What he
said, conveyed in the language of no uneducated man, was to the effect
following, if not altogether in these words, namely: That during the
chase and preparations for the possible encounter he had seen enough to
convince him that at least one sailor aboard was a dangerous character
in a ship mustering some who not only had taken a guilty part in the
late serious trouble, but others also who, like the man in question, had
entered His Majesty’s service under another form than enlistment.
At this point Captain Vere with some impatience interrupted him:
‘Be direct, man; say impressed men.’
Claggart made a gesture of subservience and proceeded. Quite lately he
(Claggart) had begun to suspect that some sort of movement prompted by
the sailor in question was covertly going on, but he had not thought
himself warranted in reporting the suspicion so long as it remained
indistinct. But from what he had that afternoon observed in the man
referred to, the suspicion of something clandestine going on had
advanced to a point less removed from certainty. He deeply felt, he
added, the serious responsibility assumed in making a report involving
such possible consequences to the individual mainly concerned, besides
tending to augment those natural anxieties which every naval commander
must feel in view of extraordinary outbreaks so recent as those which,
he sorrowfully said it, it needed not to name.
Now at the first broaching of the matter Captain Vere, taken by
surprise, could not wholly dissemble his disquietude, but as Claggart
went on, the former’s aspect changed into restiveness under something in
the testifier’s manner in giving his testimony. However, he refrained
from interrupting him. And Claggart, continuing, concluded with this:
‘God forbid, your honour, that the _Indomitable’s_[4] should be the
experience of the----’
‘Never mind that!’ here peremptorily broke in the superior, his face
altering with anger instantly, divining the ship that the other was
about to name, one in which the Nore Mutiny had assumed a singularly
tragical character that for a time jeopardised the life of its
commander. Under the circumstances he was indignant at the purposed
allusion. When the commissioned officers themselves were on all
occasions very heedful how they referred to the recent event, for a
petty officer unnecessarily to allude to it in the presence of his
captain, this struck him as a most immodest presumption. Besides, to his
quick sense of self-respect, it even looked under the circumstances
something like an attempt to alarm him. Nor at that was he without some
surprise that one who so far as he had hitherto come under his notice
had shown considerable tact in his function, should in this particular
evince such lack of it.
But these thoughts and kindred dubious ones flitting across his mind
were suddenly replaced by an intuitional surmise, which though as yet
obscure in form, served practically to affect his reception of the ill
tidings. Certain it is, that long versed in everything pertaining to the
complicated gun-deck life, which like every other form of life has its
secret mines and dubious side, the side popularly disclaimed, Captain
Vere did not permit himself to be unduly disturbed by the general tenor
of his subordinate’s report. Furthermore, if in view of recent events
prompt action should be taken at the first palpable sign of recurring
insubordination, for all that, not judicious would it be, he thought, to
keep the idea of lingering disaffection alive by undue forwardness in
crediting an informer, even if his own subordinate, and charged among
other honours with police surveillance of the crew. This feeling would
not perhaps have so prevailed with him were it not that upon a prior
occasion the patriotic zeal officially evinced by Claggart had somewhat
irritated him as appearing rather supersensitive and strained.
Furthermore, something even in the official’s self-possessed and
somewhat ostentatious manner in making his specifications strangely
reminded him of a bandsman, a perjured witness in a capital case before
a court-martial ashore of which when a lieutenant he, Captain Vere, had
been a member.
Now the peremptory check given to Claggart in the matter of the arrested
allusion was quickly followed up by this: ‘You say that there is at
least one dangerous man aboard. Name him.’
‘William Budd, a foretopman, your honour.’
‘William Budd!’ repeated Captain Vere with unfeigned astonishment; ‘and
mean you the man that Lieutenant Ratcliffe took from the merchantman not
very long ago--the young fellow who seems to be so popular with the
men--Billy, the Handsome Sailor, as they call him?’
‘The same, your honour; but for all his youth and good looks, a deep
one. Not for nothing does he insinuate himself into the good-will of his
shipmates, since at the least they will at a pinch say a good word for
him at all hazards. Did Lieutenant Ratcliffe happen to tell your honour
of that adroit fling of Budd’s jumping up in the cutter’s bow under the
merchantman’s stern when he was being taken off? That sort of
good-humoured air even masks that at heart he resents his impressment.
You have but noted his fair cheek. A man-trap may be under his
ruddy-tipped daisies.’
Now the _Handsome Sailor_ as a signal figure among the crew had
naturally enough attracted the captain’s attention from the first.
Though in general not very demonstrative to his officers, he had
congratulated Lieutenant Ratcliffe upon his good fortune in lighting on
such a fine specimen of the _genus homo_, who in the nude might have
passed for a statue of young Adam before the Fall.
As to Billy’s adieu to the ship _Rights-of-Man_, which the boarding
lieutenant, in a deferential way, had indeed reported to him, Captain
Vere, more as a good story than aught else (having mistakenly understood
it as a satiric sally), had but thought so much the better of the
impressed man for it; as a military sailor, admiring the spirit that
could take an arbitrary enlistment so merrily and sensibly. The
foretopman’s conduct, too, so far as it had fallen under the captain’s
notice, had confirmed the first happy augury, while the new recruit’s
qualities as a _sailor-man_ seemed to be such that he had thought of
recommending him to the executive officer for promotion to a place that
would more frequently bring him under his own observation, namely, the
captaincy of the mizen-top, replacing there in the starboard-watch a man
not so young whom partly for that reason he deemed less fitted for the
post. Be it parenthesised here that since the mizen-topmen have not to
handle such breadths of heavy canvas as the lower sails on the mainmast
and foremast, a young man if of the right stuff not only seems best
adapted to duty there, but, in fact, is generally selected for the
captaincy of that top, and the company under him are light hands, and
often but striplings. In sum, Captain Vere had from the beginning deemed
Billy Budd to be what in the naval parlance of the time was called a
‘_King’s bargain_,’ that is to say, for His Britannic Majesty’s Navy a
capital investment at small outlay or none at all.
After a brief pause, during which the reminiscences above mentioned
passed vividly through his mind, he weighed the import of Claggart’s
last suggestion conveyed in the phrase ‘a man-trap under his
ruddy-tipped daisies,’ and the more he weighed it the less reliance he
felt in the informer’s good faith. Suddenly he turned upon him: ‘Do you
come to me, master-at-arms, with so foggy a tale? As to Budd, cite me an
act or spoken word of his confirmatory of what you in general charge
against him. Stay,’ drawing nearer to him, ‘heed what you speak. Just
now and in a case like this, there is a yard-arm-end for the false
witness.’
‘Ah, your honour!’ sighed Claggart, mildly shaking his shapely head as
in sad deprecation of such unmerited severity of tone. Then
bridling--erecting himself as in virtuous self-assertion, he
circumstantially alleged certain words and acts which collectively, if
credited, led to presumptions mortally inculpating Budd, and for some of
these averments, he added, substantiating proof was not far.
With gray eyes impatient and distrustful, essaying to fathom to the
bottom Claggart’s calm violet ones, Captain Vere again heard him out;
then for the moment stood ruminating. The mood he evinced,
Claggart--himself for the time liberated from the other’s
scrutiny--steadily regarded with a look difficult to render--a look
curious of the operation of his tactics, a look such as might have been
that of the spokesman of the envious children of Jacob deceptively
imposing upon the troubled patriarch the blood-dyed coat of young
Joseph.
Though something exceptional in the moral quality of Captain Vere made
him, in earnest encounter with a fellow-man, a veritable touchstone of
that man’s essential nature, yet now as to Claggart and what was really
going on in him, his feeling partook less of intuitional conviction than
of strong suspicion clogged by strange dubieties. The perplexity he
evinced proceeded less from aught touching the man informed against--as
Claggart doubtless opined--than from considerations how best to act in
regard to the informer. At first, indeed, he was naturally for summoning
that substantiation of his allegations which Claggart said was at hand.
But such a proceeding would result in the matter at once getting abroad,
which in the present stage of it, he thought, might undesirably affect
the ship’s company. If Claggart was a false witness--that closed the
affair. And therefore, before trying the accusation, he would first
practically test the accuser; and he thought this could be done in a
quiet undemonstrative way.
The measure he determined upon involved a shifting of the scene, a
transfer to a place less exposed to observation than the broad
quarter-deck. For although the few gun-room officers there at the time
had, in due observance of naval etiquette, withdrawn to leeward the
moment Captain Vere had begun his promenade on the deck’s weather-side;
and though during the colloquy with Claggart they of course ventured not
to diminish the distance; and though throughout the interview Captain
Vere’s voice was far from high, and Claggart’s silvery and low; and the
wind in the cordage and the wash of the sea helped the more to put them
beyond ear-shot; nevertheless, the interview’s continuance already had
attracted observation from some topmen aloft, and other sailors in the
waist or farther forward.
Having determined upon his measures, Captain Vere forthwith took action.
Abruptly turning to Claggart he asked, ‘Master-at-arms, is it now Budd’s
watch aloft?’
‘No, your honour.’
Whereupon, ‘Mr. Wilkes,’ summoning the nearest midshipman, ‘tell Albert
to come to me.’ Albert was the captain’s hammock-boy, a sort of
sea-valet, in whose discretion and fidelity his master had much
confidence. The lad appeared. ‘You know Budd, the foretopman?’
‘I do, sir.’
‘Go find him. It is his watch off. Manage to tell him out of ear-shot
that he is wanted aft. Contrive it that he speaks to nobody. Keep him in
talk yourself. And not till you get well aft here, not till then, let
him know that the place where he is wanted is my cabin. You understand?
Go. Master-at-arms, show yourself on the decks below, and when you think
it time for Albert to be coming with his man, stand by quietly to follow
the sailor in.’
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Footnote 2:
In Melville’s MS. the vessel is on these occasions given the name
_Bellipotent_. See also pp. 64, 66, 109, 110.
Footnote 3:
Cf. p. 63 note.
Footnote 4:
Cf. p. 63 note.
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