第57章

THE PIPES OF PAN

Circular Quay,shaped like a bite in a slice of bread,caught the eye like a moving picture.The narrow strip of roadway,hemmed in between the Customs House and the huge wool stores,was alive with the multitudinous activity of an ant-hill.A string of electric cars slid past the jetties in parallel lines or climbed the sharp curve to Phillip Street;and every minute cars,loaded with passengers from the dusty suburbs,swung round the corners of the main streets and stopped in front of the ferries.And as the cars stopped,the human cargo emptied itself into the roadway and hurried to the turnstiles,harassed by the thought of missing the next boat.

From the waterside,where the great mail steamers lay moored along the Quay,came the sudden rattle of winches,the cries of men unloading cargo,and the shrill hoot of small steamers crossing the bay.Where the green waters licked the piles and gurgled under the jetties,waterside loafers sat on the edge of the wharves intently watching a fishing-line thrown out.

Men in greasy clothes and flannel shirts,with the look of the sea in their eyes,smoked and spat as they watched the ships in brooding silence.For of all structures contrived by the hands of man,a ship is the most fascinating.It is so complete,so perfect in its devices and ingenuity,a house and a habitation for men set adrift on the waste of waters,plunging headlong into danger and romance with its long spars and coiled ropes,its tarry sailors roaring a sea-chanty,and the common habits of eating and sleeping accomplished in a spirit of adventure.

Two streams,mainly women,met at the turnstiles--mothers and children from the crowded,dusty suburbs,drawn by the sudden heat of an autumn sun in a cloudless sky to the harbour for a day in the open air,and the leisured ladies of the North Shore,calm and collected,dressed in expensive materials,crossing from the fashionable waterside suburbs to the Quay to saunter idly round the Block,look in the shops,and drink a cup of tea.

Jonah,who had been standing outside the Mosman ferry for the last half-hour,looked at the clock in the Customs House opposite,and swore to himself.It was on the stroke of three,and she would miss the boat,as usual.It was always the same--she was always late;and when he had worked himself into a fury,deciding to wait another minute,and then to go home,she would suddenly appear breathless,with a smile and an apology that took the words out of his mouth.

He watched each tram as it stopped,looking for one face and figure among the moving crowd,for he had learned to know her walk in the distance while her features were a blur.For months past he had endured that supreme tyranny--the domination of the woman--till his whole life seemed to be spent between thinking about her and waiting for her at appointed corners.

The hours they spent together fled with incredible speed,and she always shortened the flying minutes by coming late,with one of half a dozen excuses that he knew by heart.

Their first meeting had been at the Quay the day after he had brought Ada home drunk from the "Angel",and since then a silent understanding had grown between them that they should always meet there and cross the water,as Jonah's conspicuous figure made recognition very likely in the streets and parks of the city.

The first passion of his life--love of his child--had for ever stamped on his brain the scenes and atmosphere of Cardigan Street,the struggle for life on the Road,and the march of triumph to the "Silver Shoe".And this,the second passion of his life--love of a woman--was set like a stage-play among the wide spaces of sea and sky,the flight of gulls,the encircling hills,and the rough,salt breath of the harbour.

Suddenly he saw her crossing the road,threading her way between the electric cars,and noted with intense satisfaction the distinction of her figure,clothed in light tweed,with an air of scrupulous neatness in which she could hold her own with the rich idlers from the Shore.She smiled at him with her peculiar,intense look,and then frowned slightly.Jonah knew that something was wrong,and remembered that he had forgotten to raise his hat,an accomplishment that she had taught him with much difficulty.

"So sorry to be late,but I couldn't really help it.I'll tell you presently,"she said,as they passed the turnstiles.

Jonah knew by her voice that she was in a bad temper,and his heart sank.

The afternoon that he had waited for and counted on for nearly a week would be spoiled.Never before in his life had his pleasures depended on the humour or caprice of anyone,but he had learned with dismal surprise that a word or a look from this woman could make or mar the day for him.He gave her a sidelong look,and saw she was angry by a certain hardness in her profile,and,as he stared moodily at the water,he wondered if all women were as mutable and capricious.In his dealings with women--shop-hands who moved at his bidding like machines--he had never suspected these gusts of emotion that ended as suddenly as they began.Ada had the nerves of a cow.

Over the way the Manly boat was filling slowly with mothers and children and stray couples.A lamentable band on the upper deck mixed popular airs with the rattle of winches.The Quay was alive with ferry-boats,blunt-nosed and squat like a flat-iron,churning the water with invisible screws.A string of lascars from the P.&O.boat caught his eye with a patch of colour,the white calico trousers,the gay embroidered vests,and the red or white turbans bringing a touch of the East to Sydney.

Suddenly the piles of the jetty slipped to the rear,and the boat moved out past the huge mail-steamers from London,Marseilles,Bremen,Hongkong,and Yokohama lying at the wharves.