In fact, and as it was to turn out,
our crew, even in these degenerate sailing days, was an unusual crew
in so far as its helplessness and worthlessness were beyond the
average.
I found my own room (in reality it was two rooms) delightful. Wada
had unpacked and stored away my entire outfit of clothing, and had
filled numerous shelves with the library I had brought along.
Everything was in order and place, from my shaving outfit in the
drawer beside the wash-basin, and my sea-boots and oilskins hung
ready to hand, to my writing materials on the desk, before which a
swing arm-chair, leather-upholstered and screwed solidly to the
floor, invited me. My pyjamas and dressing-gown were out. My
slippers, in their accustomed place by the bed, also invited me.
Here, aft, all was fitness, intelligence. On deck it was what I have
described--a nightmare spawn of creatures, assumably human, but
malformed, mentally and physically, into caricatures of men. Yes, it
was an unusual crew; and that Mr. Pike and Mr. Mellaire could whip it
into the efficient shape necessary to work this vast and intricate
and beautiful fabric of a ship was beyond all seeming of possibility.
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