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- Стр. 7/24
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There
are
two
lives
lived
side
by
side
on
such
a
voyage
,
the
life
of
the
passengers
and
the
life
of
the
ship
.
From
a
place
high
up
on
the
boat-deck
our
traveller
can
watch
the
progress
of
these
two
lives
.
The
passengers
play
games
or
walk
about
,
or
sit
idling
drowsily
in
deck
chairs
,
with
their
eyes
straying
constantly
from
the
unheeded
book
to
the
long
horizon
,
or
noting
the
trivial
doings
of
other
idlers
.
The
chatter
of
their
voices
,
the
sound
of
their
games
,
the
faint
tinkle
of
music
floating
up
from
the
music-room
are
eloquent
of
one
of
these
double
lives
;
there
on
the
bridge
is
an
expression
of
the
other
the
bridge
in
all
its
spick-and-span
sanctities
,
with
the
officers
of
the
watch
in
their
trim
uniform
,
the
stolid
quartermaster
at
the
wheel
,
and
his
equally
stolid
companion
of
the
watch
who
dreams
his
four
hours
away
on
the
starboard
side
of
the
bridge
almost
as
motionless
as
the
bright
brass
binnacles
and
standards
,
and
the
telegraphs
that
point
unchangeably
down
to
Full
Ahead
...
The
Officer
of
the
watch
has
a
sextant
at
his
eye
.
One
by
one
the
Captain
,
the
Chief
,
the
Second
and
the
Fourth
,
all
come
silently
up
and
direct
their
sextants
to
the
horizon
.
The
quartermaster
comes
and
touches
his
cap
:
"
Twelve
o'clock
,
Sir
.
"
There
is
silence
a
deep
sunny
silence
,
broken
only
by
the
low
tones
of
the
Captain
to
the
Chief
:
"
What
have
you
got
?
"
says
the
Captain
.
"
Thirty
,
"
says
the
Chief
,
"
Twenty-nine
,
"
says
the
Third
.
There
is
another
space
of
sunny
silent
seconds
;
the
Captain
takes
down
his
sextant
.
"
Make
it
eight
bells
,
"
he
says
Four
double
strokes
resound
from
the
bridge
and
are
echoed
from
the
fo
'
c
's
tle
head
;
and
the
great
moment
of
the
day
,
the
moment
that
means
so
much
,
is
over
.
The
officers
retire
with
pencils
and
papers
and
tables
of
logarithms
;
the
clock
on
the
staircase
is
put
back
,
and
the
day
's
run
posted
;
from
the
deck
float
up
the
sounds
of
a
waltz
and
laughing
voices
;
Time
and
the
world
flow
on
with
us
again
.
For
anything
that
the
eye
could
see
the
Titanic
,
in
all
her
strength
and
splendour
,
was
solitary
on
the
ocean
.
From
the
highest
of
her
decks
nothing
could
be
seen
but
sea
and
sky
,
a
vast
circle
of
floor
and
dome
of
which
,
for
all
her
speed
of
five-and-twenty
miles
an
hour
,
she
remained
always
the
centre
.
But
it
was
only
to
the
sense
of
sight
that
she
seemed
thus
solitary
.
The
North
Atlantic
,
waste
of
waters
though
it
appears
,
is
really
a
country
crossed
and
divided
by
countless
tracks
as
familiar
to
the
seaman
as
though
they
were
roads
marked
by
trees
and
milestones
.
Latitude
and
longitude
,
which
to
a
landsman
seem
mere
mathematical
abstractions
,
represent
to
seamen
thousands
and
thousands
of
definite
points
which
,
in
their
relation
to
sun
and
stars
and
the
measured
lapse
of
time
,
are
each
as
familiar
and
as
accessible
as
any
spot
on
a
main
road
is
to
a
landsman
.
The
officer
on
the
bridge
may
see
nothing
through
his
glasses
but
clouds
and
waves
,
yet
in
his
mind
's
eye
he
sees
not
only
his
own
position
on
the
map
,
which
he
could
fix
accurately
within
a
quarter
of
a
mile
,
but
the
movements
of
dozens
of
other
ships
coming
or
going
along
the
great
highways
.
Each
ship
takes
its
own
road
,
but
it
is
a
road
that
passes
through
a
certain
known
territory
;
the
great
liners
all
know
each
other
's
movements
and
where
or
when
they
are
likely
to
meet
.
Many
of
such
meetings
are
invisible
;
it
is
called
a
meeting
at
sea
if
ships
pass
twenty
or
thirty
miles
away
from
each
other
and
far
out
of
sight
.
For
there
are
other
senses
besides
that
of
sight
which
now
pierce
the
darkness
and
span
the
waste
distances
of
the
ocean
.
It
is
no
voiceless
solitude
through
which
the
Titanic
goes
on
her
way
.
It
is
full
of
whispers
,
summonses
,
questions
,
narratives
;
full
of
information
to
the
listening
ear
.
High
up
on
the
boat
deck
the
little
white
house
to
which
the
wires
straggle
down
from
the
looped
threads
between
the
mastheads
is
full
of
the
voices
of
invisible
ships
that
are
coming
and
going
beyond
the
horizon
.
The
wireless
impulse
is
too
delicate
to
be
used
to
actuate
a
needle
like
that
of
the
ordinary
telegraph
;
a
little
voice
is
given
to
it
,
and
with
this
it
speaks
to
the
operator
who
sits
with
the
telephone
cap
strapped
over
his
ears
;
a
whining
,
buzzing
voice
,
speaking
not
in
words
but
in
rhythms
,
corresponding
to
the
dots
and
dashes
made
on
paper
,
out
of
which
a
whole
alphabet
has
been
evolved
.
And
the
wireless
is
the
greatest
gossip
in
the
world
.
It
repeats
everything
it
hears
;
it
tells
the
listener
everyone
else
's
business
;
it
speaks
to
him
of
the
affairs
of
other
people
as
well
as
his
own
.
It
is
an
ever-present
eavesdropper
,
and
tells
you
what
other
people
are
saying
to
one
another
in
exactly
the
same
voice
in
which
they
speak
to
you
.
When
it
is
sending
your
messages
it
shouts
,
splitting
the
air
with
crackling
flashes
of
forked
blue
fire
;
but
when
it
has
anything
to
say
to
you
it
whispers
in
your
ear
in
whining
,
insinuating
confidence
.
And
you
must
listen
attentively
and
with
a
mind
concentrated
on
your
own
business
if
you
are
to
receive
from
it
what
concerns
you
,
and
reject
what
does
not
;
for
it
is
not
always
the
loudest
whisper
that
is
the
most
important
.
The
messages
come
from
near
and
far
,
now
like
the
rasp
of
a
file
in
your
ear
,
and
now
in
a
thread
of
sound
as
fine
as
the
whine
of
a
mosquito
;
and
if
the
mosquito
voice
is
the
one
that
is
speaking
to
you
from
far
away
,
you
may
often
be
interrupted
by
the
loud
and
empty
buzzing
of
one
nearer
neighbour
speaking
to
another
and
loudly
interrupting
the
message
which
concerns
you
.
Listening
to
these
voices
in
the
Marconi
room
of
the
Titanic
,
and
controlling
her
articulation
and
hearing
,
were
two
young
men
,
little
more
than
boys
,
but
boys
of
a
rare
quality
,
children
of
the
golden
age
of
electricity
.
Educated
in
an
abstruse
and
delicate
science
,
and
loving
the
sea
for
its
largeness
and
adventure
,
they
had
come
Phillips
at
the
age
of
twenty-six
,
and
Bride
in
the
ripe
maturity
of
twenty-one
to
wield
for
the
Titanic
the
electric
forces
of
the
ether
,
and
to
direct
her
utterance
and
hearing
on
the
ocean
.
And
as
they
sat
there
that
Friday
and
Saturday
they
must
have
heard
,
as
was
their
usual
routine
,
all
the
whispers
of
the
ships
for
two
hundred
miles
round
them
,
their
trained
faculties
almost
automatically
rejecting
the
unessential
,
receiving
and
attending
to
the
essential
.
They
heard
talk
of
many
things
,
talk
in
fragments
and
in
the
strange
rhythmic
language
that
they
had
come
to
know
like
a
mother
tongue
;
talk
of
cargoes
,
talk
of
money
and
business
,
of
transactions
involving
thousands
of
pounds
;
trivial
talk
of
the
emotions
,
greetings
and
good
wishes
exchanged
on
the
high
seas
;
endless
figures
of
latitude
and
longitude
for
a
ship
is
an
eternal
egoist
and
begins
all
her
communications
by
an
announcement
of
Who
she
is
and
Where
she
is
.
Ships
are
chiefly
interested
in
weather
and
cargo
,
and
their
wireless
talk
on
their
own
account
is
constantly
of
these
things
;
but
most
often
of
the
weather
.
One
ship
may
be
pursuing
her
way
under
a
calm
sky
and
in
smooth
waters
,
while
two
hundred
miles
away
a
neighbour
may
be
in
the
middle
of
a
storm
;
and
so
the
ships
talk
to
one
another
of
the
weather
,
and
combine
their
forces
against
it
,
and
,
by
altering
course
a
little
,
or
rushing
ahead
,
or
hanging
back
,
cheat
and
dodge
those
malignant
forces
which
are
ever
pursuing
them
.
But
in
these
April
days
there
was
nothing
much
to
be
said
about
the
weather
.
The
winds
and
the
storms
were
quiet
here
;
they
were
busy
perhaps
up
in
Labrador
or
furiously
raging
about
Cape
Horn
,
but
they
had
deserted
for
the
time
the
North
Atlantic
,
and
all
the
ships
ploughed
steadily
on
in
sunshine
and
smooth
seas
.
Here
and
there
,
however
,
a
whisper
came
to
Phillips
or
Bride
about
something
which
,
though
not
exactly
weather
,
was
as
deeply
interesting
to
the
journeying
ships
ice
.
Just
a
whisper
,
nothing
more
,
listened
to
up
there
in
the
sunny
Marconi
room
,
recorded
,
dealt
with
,
and
forgotten
.
