‘Too late, youngster.’

legs—the boat nearly swamped. Old Symons is a fine old The captain of the ship laid a restraining hand on that boy, chap. I don’t mind a bit him being grumpy with us. He swore who seemed on the point of leaping overboard, and Jim at me al the time he held my leg, but that was only his way looked up with the pain of conscious defeat in his eyes. The of tel ing me to stick to the boat-hook. Old Symons is awcaptain smiled sympathetical y. ‘Better luck next time. This ful y excitable—isn’t he? No—not the little fair chap—the wil teach you to be smart.’

other, the big one with a beard. When we pul ed him in he A shril cheer greeted the cutter. She came dancing back groaned, “Oh, my leg! oh, my leg!” and turned up his eyes. half ful of water, and with two exhausted men washing about Fancy such a big chap fainting like a girl. Would any of you on her bottom boards. The tumult and the menace of wind fel ows faint for a jab with a boat-hook?—I wouldn’t. It went and sea now appeared very contemptible to Jim, increasing into his leg so far.’ He showed the boathook, which he had the regret of his awe at their inefficient menace. Now he carried below for the purpose, and produced a sensation. knew what to think of it. It seemed to him he cared nothing

‘No, sil y! It was not his flesh that held him—his breeches for the gale. He could affront greater perils. He would do did. Lots of blood, of course.’

so—better than anybody. Not a particle of fear was left. NevJim thought it a pitiful display of vanity. The gale had min9

Lord Jim

istered to a heroism as spurious as its own pretence of terror.

CHAPTER 2

He felt angry with the brutal tumult of earth and sky for taking him unawares and checking unfairly a generous readiAFTER TWO YEARS of training he went to sea, and entering the ness for narrow escapes. Otherwise he was rather glad he regions so wel known to his imagination, found them strangely had not gone into the cutter, since a lower achievement had barren of adventure. He made many voyages. He knew the served the turn. He had enlarged his knowledge more than magic monotony of existence between sky and water: he had those who had done the work. When al men flinched, then—

to bear the criticism of men, the exactions of the sea, and the he felt sure—he alone would know how to deal with the prosaic severity of the daily task that gives bread—but whose spurious menace of wind and seas. He knew what to think only reward is in the perfect love of the work.