Chapter 9

by Herman Melville

　　Life in the fore-top well agreed with Billy Budd. There, when notactually engaged on the yards yet higher aloft, the topmen, who as suchhad been picked out for youth and activity, constituted an aerial clublounging at ease against the smaller stun'sails rolled up into cushions,spinning yarns like the lazy gods, and frequently amused with what wasgoing on in the busy world of the decks below. No wonder then that ayoung fellow of Billy's disposition was well content in such society.Giving no cause of offence to anybody, he was always alert at a call. Soin the merchant service it had been with him. But now such apunctiliousness in duty was shown that his topmates would sometimesgood-naturedly laugh at him for it. This heightened alacrity had itscause, namely, the impression made upon him by the first formalgangway-punishment he had ever witnessed, which befell the day followinghis impressment. It had been incurred by a little fellow, young, anovice, an afterguardsman absent from his assigned post when the shipwas being put about; a dereliction resulting in a rather serious hitchto that manoeuvre, one demanding instantaneous promptitude in letting goand making fast. When Billy saw the culprit's naked back under thescourge gridironed with red welts, and worse; when he marked the direexpression on the liberated man's face as with his woolen shirt flungover him by the executioner he rushed forward from the spot to buryhimself in the crowd, Billy was horrified. He resolved that neverthrough remissness would he make himself liable to such a visitation ordo or omit aught that might merit even verbal reproof. What then was hissurprise and concern when ultimately he found himself getting into pettytrouble occasionally about such matters as the stowage of his bag orsomething amiss in his hammock, matters under the police oversight ofthe ship's-corporals of the lower decks, and which brought down on him avague threat from one of them.So heedful in all things as he was, how could this be? He could notunderstand it, and it more than vexed him. When he spoke to his youngtopmates about it they were either lightly incredulous or foundsomething comical in his unconcealed anxiety. "Is it your bag, Billy?"said one. "Well, sew yourself up in it, bully boy, and then you'll besure to know if anybody meddles with it."Now there was a veteran aboard who because his years began todisqualify him for more active work had been recently assigned duty asmainmastman in his watch, looking to the gear belayed at the railroundabout that great spar near the deck. At off-times the Foretopmanhad picked up some acquaintance with him, and now in his trouble itoccurred to him that he might be the sort of person to go to for wisecounsel. He was an old Dansker long anglicized in the service, of fewwords, many wrinkles and some honorable scars. His wizened face,time-tinted and weather-stained to the complexion of an antiqueparchment, was here and there peppered blue by the chance explosion of agun-cartridge in action. He was an Agamemnon-man; some two years priorto the time of this story having served under Nelson, when but SirHoratio, in that ship immortal in naval memory, and which, dismantledand in part broken up to her bare ribs, is seen a grand skeleton inHaydon's etching. As one of a boarding-party from the Agamemnon he hadreceived a cut slantwise along one temple and cheek, leaving a long scarlike a streak of dawn's light falling athwart the dark visage. It was onaccount of that scar and the affair in which it was known that he hadreceived it, as well as from his blue-peppered complexion, that theDansker went among the Indomitable's crew by the name of"Board-her-in-the-smoke."Now the first time that his small weazel-eyes happened to light onBilly Budd, a certain grim internal merriment set all his ancientwrinkles into antic play. Was it that his eccentric unsentimental oldsapience, primitive in its kind, saw or thought it saw something which,in contrast with the war-ship's environment, looked oddly incongruous inthe Handsome Sailor? But after slyly studying him at intervals, the oldMerlin's equivocal merriment was modified; for now when the twain wouldmeet, it would start in his face a quizzing sort of look, but it wouldbe but momentary and sometimes replaced by an expression of speculativequery as to what might eventually befall a nature like that, droppedinto a world not without some man-traps and against whose subtletiessimple courage, lacking experience and address and without any touch ofdefensive ugliness, is of little avail; and where such innocence as manis capable of does yet in a moral emergency not always sharpen thefaculties or enlighten the will.However it was, the Dansker in his ascetic way rather took to Billy.Nor was this only because of a certain philosophic interest in such acharacter. There was another cause. While the old man's eccentricities,sometimes bordering on the ursine, repelled the juniors, Billy,undeterred thereby, revering him as a salt hero, would make advances,never passing the old Agamemnon-man without a salutation marked by thatrespect which is seldom lost on the aged however crabbed at times orwhatever their station in life.There was a vein of dry humor, or what not, in the mast-man; and,whether in freak of patriarchal irony touching Billy's youth andathletic frame, or for some other and more recondite reason, from thefirst in addressing him he always substituted Baby for Billy. TheDansker in fact being the originator of the name by which the Foretopmaneventually became known aboard ship.Well then, in his mysterious little difficulty, going in quest ofthe wrinkled one, Billy found him off duty in a dog-watch ruminating byhimself, seated on a shot-box of the upper gun deck, now and thensurveying with a somewhat cynical regard certain of the more swaggeringpromenaders there. Billy recounted his trouble, again wondering how itall happened. The salt seer attentively listened, accompanying theForetopman's recital with queer twitchings of his wrinkles andproblematical little sparkles of his small ferret eyes. Making an end ofhis story, the Foretopman asked, "And now, Dansker, do tell me what youthink of it."The old man, shoving up the front of his tarpaulin and deliberatelyrubbing the long slant scar at the point where it entered the thin hair,laconically said, "Baby Budd, Jimmy Legs" (meaning the Master-at-arms)"is down on you.""Jimmy Legs!" ejaculated Billy, his welkin eyes expanding; "whatfor? Why he calls me the sweet and pleasant fellow, they tell me.""Does he so?" grinned the grizzled one; then said, "Ay, Baby Lad, asweet voice has Jimmy Legs.""No, not always. But to me he has. I seldom pass him but there comesa pleasant word.""And that's because he's down upon you, Baby Budd."Such reiteration along with the manner of it, incomprehensible to anovice, disturbed Billy almost as much as the mystery for which he hadsought explanation. Something less unpleasingly oracular he tried toextract; but the old sea-Chiron, thinking perhaps that for the nonce hehad sufficiently instructed his young Achilles, pursed his lips,gathered all his wrinkles together and would commit himself to nothingfurther.Years, and those experiences which befall certain shrewder mensubordinated life-long to the will of superiors, all this had developedin the Dansker the pithy guarded cynicism that was his leadingcharacteristic.