CHANCE
A TALE IN TWO PARTS
Those that hold that all things are governed by Fortune had not erred, had theynot persisted there
SIR THOMAS BROWNE
TO SIR HUGH CLIFFORD, K.C.M.G. WHOSE STEADFAST FRIENDSHIP IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THEEXISTENCE OF THESE PAGES
PART I—THE DAMSEL
CHAPTER ONE—YOUNG POWELL AND HIS CHANCE
I believe he had seen us out of the window coming off to dine in the dinghy ofa fourteen-ton yawl belonging to Marlow my host and skipper. We helped the boywe had with us to haul the boat up on the landing-stage before we went up tothe riverside inn, where we found our new acquaintance eating his dinner indignified loneliness at the head of a long table, white and inhospitable like asnow bank.
The red tint of his clear-cut face with trim short black whiskers under a capof curly iron-grey hair was the only warm spot in the dinginess of that roomcooled by the cheerless tablecloth. We knew him already by sight as the ownerof a little five-ton cutter, which he sailed alone apparently, a fellowyachtsman in the unpretending band of fanatics who cruise at the mouth of theThames. But the first time he addressed the waiter sharply as ‘steward’ we knewhim at once for a sailor as well as a yachtsman.
Presently he had occasion to reprove that same waiter for the slovenly mannerin which the dinner was served. He did it with considerable energy and thenturned to us.
“If we at sea,” he declared, “went about our work as people ashore high and lowgo about theirs we should never make a living. No one would employ us. Andmoreover no ship navigated and sailed in the happy-go-lucky manner peopleconduct their business on shore would ever arrive into port.”
Since he had retired from the sea he had been astonished to discover that theeducated people were not much better than the others. No one seemed to take anyproper pride in his work: from plumbers who were simply thieves to, say,newspaper men (he seemed to think them a specially intellectual class) whonever by any chance gave a correct version of the simplest affair. Thisuniversal inefficiency of what he called “the shore gang” he ascribed ingeneral to the want of responsibility and to a sense of security.
“They see,” he went on, “that no matter what they do this tight little islandwon’t turn turtle with them or spring a leak and go to the bottom with theirwives and children.”
From this point the conversation took a special turn relating exclusively tosea-life. On that subject he got quickly in touch with Marlow who in his timehad followed the sea. They kept up a lively exchange of reminiscences while Ilistened. They agreed that the happiest time in their lives was as youngstersin good ships, with no care in the world but not to lose a watch below when atsea and not a moment’s time in going ashore after work hours when in harbour.They agreed also as to the proudest moment they had known in that calling whichis never embraced on rational and practical grounds, because of the glamour ofits romantic associations. It was the moment when they had passed successfullytheir first examination and left the seamanship Examiner with the littleprecious slip of blue paper in their hands.
“That day I wouldn’t have called the Queen my cousin,” declared our newacquaintance enthusiastically.
At that time the Marine Board examinations took place at the St. Katherine’sDock House on Tower Hill, and he informed us that he had a special affectionfor the view of that historic locality, with the Gardens to the left, the frontof the M