The Voyage Out

by Virginia Woolf

  Chapter XXI

  Thanks to Mr. Flushing's discipline, the right stages of the river werereached at the right hours, and when next morning after breakfast thechairs were again drawn out in a semicircle in the bow, the launchwas within a few miles of the native camp which was the limit of thejourney. Mr. Flushing, as he sat down, advised them to keep their eyesfixed on the left bank, where they would soon pass a clearing, and inthat clearing, was a hut where Mackenzie, the famous explorer, haddied of fever some ten years ago, almost within reach ofcivilisation--Mackenzie, he repeated, the man who went farther inlandthan any one's been yet. Their eyes turned that way obediently. The eyesof Rachel saw nothing. Yellow and green shapes did, it is true, passbefore them, but she only knew that one was large and another small;she did not know that they were trees. These directions to look hereand there irritated her, as interruptions irritate a person absorbed inthought, although she was not thinking of anything. She was annoyed withall that was said, and with the aimless movements of people's bodies,because they seemed to interfere with her and to prevent her fromspeaking to Terence. Very soon Helen saw her staring moodily at a coilof rope, and making no effort to listen. Mr. Flushing and St. John wereengaged in more or less continuous conversation about the future of thecountry from a political point of view, and the degree to which ithad been explored; the others, with their legs stretched out, or chinspoised on the hands, gazed in silence.

  Mrs. Ambrose looked and listened obediently enough, but inwardly shewas prey to an uneasy mood not readily to be ascribed to any one cause.Looking on shore as Mr. Flushing bade her, she thought the countryvery beautiful, but also sultry and alarming. She did not like to feelherself the victim of unclassified emotions, and certainly as the launchslipped on and on, in the hot morning sun, she felt herself unreasonablymoved. Whether the unfamiliarity of the forest was the cause of it,or something less definite, she could not determine. Her mind left thescene and occupied itself with anxieties for Ridley, for her children,for far-off things, such as old age and poverty and death. Hirst, too,was depressed. He had been looking forward to this expedition as to aholiday, for, once away from the hotel, surely wonderful things wouldhappen, instead of which nothing happened, and here they were asuncomfortable, as restrained, as self-conscious as ever. That, ofcourse, was what came of looking forward to anything; one was alwaysdisappointed. He blamed Wilfrid Flushing, who was so well dressed and soformal; he blamed Hewet and Rachel. Why didn't they talk? He looked atthem sitting silent and self-absorbed, and the sight annoyed him. Hesupposed that they were engaged, or about to become engaged, butinstead of being in the least romantic or exciting, that was as dull aseverything else; it annoyed him, too, to think that they were in love.He drew close to Helen and began to tell her how uncomfortable his nighthad been, lying on the deck, sometimes too hot, sometimes too cold, andthe stars so bright that he couldn't get to sleep. He had lain awakeall night thinking, and when it was light enough to see, he had writtentwenty lines of his poem on God, and the awful thing was that he'dpractically proved the fact that God did not exist. He did not see thathe was teasing her, and he went on to wonder what would happen if Goddid exist--"an old gentleman in a beard and a long blue dressing gown,extremely testy and disagreeable as he's bound to be? Can you suggest arhyme? God, rod, sod--all used; any others?"

  Although he spoke much as usual, Helen could have seen, had she looked,that he was also impatient and disturbed. But she was not called upon toanswer, for Mr. Flushing now exclaimed "There!" They looked at the huton the bank, a desolate place with a large rent in the roof, and theground round it yellow, scarred with fires and scattered with rusty opentins.

  "Did they find his dead body there?" Mrs. Flushing exclaimed, leaningforward in her eagerness to see the spot where the explorer had died.

  "They found his body and his skins and a notebook," her husband replied.But the boat had soon carried them on and left the place behind.

  It was so hot that they scarcely moved, except now to change a foot, or,again, to strike a match. Their eyes, concentrated upon the bank, werefull of the same green reflections, and their lips were slightly pressedtogether as though the sights they were passing gave rise to thoughts,save that Hirst's lips moved intermittently as half consciously hesought rhymes for God. Whatever the thoughts of the others, no one saidanything for a considerable space. They had grown so accustomed to thewall of trees on either side that they looked up with a start when thelight suddenly widened out and the trees came to an end.

  "It almost reminds one of an English park," said Mr. Flushing.

  Indeed no change could have been greater. On both banks of the river layan open lawn-like space, grass covered and planted, for the gentlenessand order of the place suggested human care, with graceful trees on thetop of little mounds. As far as they could gaze, this lawn rose and sankwith the undulating motion of an old English park. The change of scenenaturally suggested a change of position, grateful to most of them. Theyrose and leant over the rail.

  "It might be Arundel or Windsor," Mr. Flushing continued, "if you cutdown that bush with the yellow flowers; and, by Jove, look!"

  Rows of brown backs paused for a moment and then leapt with a motion asif they were springing over waves out of sight. For a moment no one ofthem could believe that they had really seen live animals in the open--aherd of wild deer, and the sight aroused a childlike excitement in them,dissipating their gloom.

  "I've never in my life seen anything bigger than a hare!" Hirstexclaimed with genuine excitement. "What an ass I was not to bring myKodak!"

  Soon afterwards the launch came gradually to a standstill, and thecaptain explained to Mr. Flushing that it would be pleasant for thepassengers if they now went for a stroll on shore; if they chose toreturn within an hour, he would take them on to the village; if theychose to walk--it was only a mile or two farther on--he would meet themat the landing-place.

  The matter being settled, they were once more put on shore: the sailors,producing raisins and tobacco, leant upon the rail and watched thesix English, whose coats and dresses looked so strange upon the green,wander off. A joke that was by no means proper set them all laughing,and then they turned round and lay at their ease upon the deck.

  Directly they landed, Terence and Rachel drew together slightly inadvance of the others.

  "Thank God!" Terence exclaimed, drawing a long breath. "At last we'realone."

  "And if we keep ahead we can talk," said Rachel.

  Nevertheless, although their position some yards in advance of theothers made it possible for them to say anything they chose, they wereboth silent.

  "You love me?" Terence asked at length, breaking the silence painfully.To speak or to be silent was equally an effort, for when they weresilent they were keenly conscious of each other's presence, and yetwords were either too trivial or too large.

  She murmured inarticulately, ending, "And you?"

  "Yes, yes," he replied; but there were so many things to be said, andnow that they were alone it seemed necessary to bring themselves stillmore near, and to surmount a barrier which had grown up since they hadlast spoken. It was difficult, frightening even, oddly embarrassing. Atone moment he was clear-sighted, and, at the next, confused.

  "Now I'm going to begin at the beginning," he said resolutely. "I'mgoing to tell you what I ought to have told you before. In the firstplace, I've never been in love with other women, but I've had otherwomen. Then I've great faults. I'm very lazy, I'm moody--" He persisted,in spite of her exclamation, "You've got to know the worst of me. I'mlustful. I'm overcome by a sense of futility--incompetence. I oughtnever to have asked you to marry me, I expect. I'm a bit of a snob; I'mambitious--"

  "Oh, our faults!" she cried. "What do they matter?" Then she demanded,"Am I in love--is this being in love--are we to marry each other?"

  Overcome by the charm of her voice and her presence, he exclaimed, "Oh,you're free, Rachel. To you, time will make no difference, or marriageor--"

  The voices of
the others behind them kept floating, now farther, nownearer, and Mrs. Flushing's laugh rose clearly by itself.

  "Marriage?" Rachel repeated.

  The shouts were renewed behind, warning them that they were bearing toofar to the left. Improving their course, he continued, "Yes, marriage."The feeling that they could not be united until she knew all about himmade him again endeavour to explain.

  "All that's been bad in me, the things I've put up with--the secondbest--"

  She murmured, considered her own life, but could not describe how itlooked to her now.

  "And the loneliness!" he continued. A vision of walking with her throughthe streets of London came before his eyes. "We will go for walkstogether," he said. The simplicity of the idea relieved them, and forthe first time they laughed. They would have liked had they dared totake each other by the hand, but the consciousness of eyes fixed on themfrom behind had not yet deserted them.

  "Books, people, sights--Mrs. Nutt, Greeley, Hutchinson," Hewet murmured.

  With every word the mist which had enveloped them, making them seemunreal to each other, since the previous afternoon melted a littlefurther, and their contact became more and more natural. Up through thesultry southern landscape they saw the world they knew appear clearerand more vividly than it had ever appeared before. As upon that occasionat the hotel when she had sat in the window, the world once morearranged itself beneath her gaze very vividly and in its trueproportions. She glanced curiously at Terence from time to time,observing his grey coat and his purple tie; observing the man with whomshe was to spend the rest of her life.

  After one of these glances she murmured, "Yes, I'm in love. There's nodoubt; I'm in love with you."

  Nevertheless, they remained uncomfortably apart; drawn so closetogether, as she spoke, that there seemed no division between them, andthe next moment separate and far away again. Feeling this painfully, sheexclaimed, "It will be a fight."

  But as she looked at him she perceived from the shape of his eyes, thelines about his mouth, and other peculiarities that he pleased her, andshe added:

  "Where I want to fight, you have compassion. You're finer than I am;you're much finer."

  He returned her glance and smiled, perceiving, much as she had done, thevery small individual things about her which made her delightful tohim. She was his for ever. This barrier being surmounted, innumerabledelights lay before them both.

  "I'm not finer," he answered. "I'm only older, lazier; a man, not awoman."

  "A man," she repeated, and a curious sense of possession coming overher, it struck her that she might now touch him; she put out her handand lightly touched his cheek. His fingers followed where hers had been,and the touch of his hand upon his face brought back the overpoweringsense of unreality. This body of his was unreal; the whole world wasunreal.

  "What's happened?" he began. "Why did I ask you to marry me? How did ithappen?"

  "Did you ask me to marry you?" she wondered. They faded far away fromeach other, and neither of them could remember what had been said.

  "We sat upon the ground," he recollected.

  "We sat upon the ground," she confirmed him. The recollection of sittingupon the ground, such as it was, seemed to unite them again, and theywalked on in silence, their minds sometimes working with difficulty andsometimes ceasing to work, their eyes alone perceiving the things roundthem. Now he would attempt again to tell her his faults, and why heloved her; and she would describe what she had felt at this time or atthat time, and together they would interpret her feeling. So beautifulwas the sound of their voices that by degrees they scarcely listenedto the words they framed. Long silences came between their words,which were no longer silences of struggle and confusion but refreshingsilences, in which trivial thoughts moved easily. They began to speaknaturally of ordinary things, of the flowers and the trees, how theygrew there so red, like garden flowers at home, and there bent andcrooked like the arm of a twisted old man.

  Very gently and quietly, almost as if it were the blood singing in herveins, or the water of the stream running over stones, Rachel becameconscious of a new feeling within her. She wondered for a moment what itwas, and then said to herself, with a little surprise at recognising inher own person so famous a thing:

  "This is happiness, I suppose." And aloud to Terence she spoke, "This ishappiness."

  On the heels of her words he answered, "This is happiness," upon whichthey guessed that the feeling had sprung in both of them the same time.They began therefore to describe how this felt and that felt, how likeit was and yet how different; for they were very different.

  Voices crying behind them never reached through the waters in whichthey were now sunk. The repetition of Hewet's name in short, disseveredsyllables was to them the crack of a dry branch or the laughter of abird. The grasses and breezes sounding and murmuring all round them,they never noticed that the swishing of the grasses grew louder andlouder, and did not cease with the lapse of the breeze. A hand droppedabrupt as iron on Rachel's shoulder; it might have been a bolt fromheaven. She fell beneath it, and the grass whipped across her eyes andfilled her mouth and ears. Through the waving stems she saw a figure,large and shapeless against the sky. Helen was upon her. Rolled thisway and that, now seeing only forests of green, and now the high blueheaven; she was speechless and almost without sense. At last she laystill, all the grasses shaken round her and before her by her panting.Over her loomed two great heads, the heads of a man and woman, ofTerence and Helen.

  Both were flushed, both laughing, and the lips were moving; they cametogether and kissed in the air above her. Broken fragments of speechcame down to her on the ground. She thought she heard them speak of loveand then of marriage. Raising herself and sitting up, she too realisedHelen's soft body, the strong and hospitable arms, and happinessswelling and breaking in one vast wave. When this fell away, and thegrasses once more lay low, and the sky became horizontal, and the earthrolled out flat on each side, and the trees stood upright, she was thefirst to perceive a little row of human figures standing patiently inthe distance. For the moment she could not remember who they were.

  "Who are they?" she asked, and then recollected.

  Falling into line behind Mr. Flushing, they were careful to leave atleast three yards' distance between the toe of his boot and the rim ofher skirt.

  He led them across a stretch of green by the river-bank and then througha grove of trees, and bade them remark the signs of human habitation,the blackened grass, the charred tree-stumps, and there, through thetrees, strange wooden nests, drawn together in an arch where the treesdrew apart, the village which was the goal of their journey.

  Stepping cautiously, they observed the women, who were squatting on theground in triangular shapes, moving their hands, either plaiting strawor in kneading something in bowls. But when they had looked for a momentundiscovered, they were seen, and Mr. Flushing, advancing into thecentre of the clearing, was engaged in talk with a lean majestic man,whose bones and hollows at once made the shapes of the Englishman's bodyappear ugly and unnatural. The women took no notice of the strangers,except that their hands paused for a moment and their long narrow eyesslid round and fixed upon them with the motionless inexpensive gaze ofthose removed from each other far far beyond the plunge of speech. Theirhands moved again, but the stare continued. It followed them as theywalked, as they peered into the huts where they could distinguish gunsleaning in the corner, and bowls upon the floor, and stacks of rushes;in the dusk the solemn eyes of babies regarded them, and old womenstared out too. As they sauntered about, the stare followed them,passing over their legs, their bodies, their heads, curiously notwithout hostility, like the crawl of a winter fly. As she drew apart hershawl and uncovered her breast to the lips of her baby, the eyes of awoman never left their faces, although they moved uneasily under herstare, and finally turned away, rather than stand there looking at herany longer. When sweetmeats were offered them, they put out greatred hands to take them, and felt themselves treading cumbrously like
tight-coated soldiers among these soft instinctive people. But soon thelife of the village took no notice of them; they had become absorbedin it. The women's hands became busy again with the straw; their eyesdropped. If they moved, it was to fetch something from the hut, or tocatch a straying child, or to cross the space with a jar balanced ontheir heads; if they spoke, it was to cry some harsh unintelligiblecry. Voices rose when a child was beaten, and fell again; voices rosein song, which slid up a little way and down a little way, and settledagain upon the same low and melancholy note. Seeking each other, Terenceand Rachel drew together under a tree. Peaceful, and even beautiful atfirst, the sight of the women, who had given up looking at them, madethem now feel very cold and melancholy.

  "Well," Terence sighed at length, "it makes us seem insignificant,doesn't it?"

  Rachel agreed. So it would go on for ever and ever, she said, thosewomen sitting under the trees, the trees and the river. They turned awayand began to walk through the trees, leaning, without fear of discovery,upon each other's arms. They had not gone far before they began toassure each other once more that they were in love, were happy, werecontent; but why was it so painful being in love, why was there so muchpain in happiness?

  The sight of the village indeed affected them all curiously though alldifferently. St. John had left the others and was walking slowly down tothe river, absorbed in his own thoughts, which were bitter and unhappy,for he felt himself alone; and Helen, standing by herself in the sunnyspace among the native women, was exposed to presentiments of disaster.The cries of the senseless beasts rang in her ears high and low inthe air, as they ran from tree-trunk to tree-top. How small the littlefigures looked wandering through the trees! She became acutely consciousof the little limbs, the thin veins, the delicate flesh of men andwomen, which breaks so easily and lets the life escape compared withthese great trees and deep waters. A falling branch, a foot that slips,and the earth has crushed them or the water drowned them. Thus thinking,she kept her eyes anxiously fixed upon the lovers, as if by doing so shecould protect them from their fate. Turning, she found the Flushings byher side.

  They were talking about the things they had bought and arguing whetherthey were really old, and whether there were not signs here and thereof European influence. Helen was appealed to. She was made to look ata brooch, and then at a pair of ear-rings. But all the time she blamedthem for having come on this expedition, for having ventured too far andexposed themselves. Then she roused herself and tried to talk, but in afew moments she caught herself seeing a picture of a boat upset on theriver in England, at midday. It was morbid, she knew, to imagine suchthings; nevertheless she sought out the figures of the others betweenthe trees, and whenever she saw them she kept her eyes fixed on them, sothat she might be able to protect them from disaster.

  But when the sun went down and the steamer turned and began tosteam back towards civilisation, again her fears were calmed. In thesemi-darkness the chairs on deck and the people sitting in them wereangular shapes, the mouth being indicated by a tiny burning spot, andthe arm by the same spot moving up or down as the cigar or cigarettewas lifted to and from the lips. Words crossed the darkness, but, notknowing where they fell, seemed to lack energy and substance. Deepsights proceeded regularly, although with some attempt at suppression,from the large white mound which represented the person of Mrs.Flushing. The day had been long and very hot, and now that all thecolours were blotted out the cool night air seemed to press soft fingersupon the eyelids, sealing them down. Some philosophical remark directed,apparently, at St. John Hirst missed its aim, and hung so long suspendedin the air until it was engulfed by a yawn, that it was considered dead,and this gave the signal for stirring of legs and murmurs about sleep.The white mound moved, finally lengthened itself and disappeared, andafter a few turns and paces St. John and Mr. Flushing withdrew, leavingthe three chairs still occupied by three silent bodies. The light whichcame from a lamp high on the mast and a sky pale with stars leftthem with shapes but without features; but even in this darkness thewithdrawal of the others made them feel each other very near, for theywere all thinking of the same thing. For some time no one spoke, thenHelen said with a sigh, "So you're both very happy?"

  As if washed by the air her voice sounded more spiritual and softer thanusual. Voices at a little distance answered her, "Yes."

  Through the darkness she was looking at them both, and trying todistinguish him. What was there for her to say? Rachel had passed beyondher guardianship. A voice might reach her ears, but never again wouldit carry as far as it had carried twenty-four hours ago. Nevertheless,speech seemed to be due from her before she went to bed. She wished tospeak, but she felt strangely old and depressed.

  "D'you realise what you're doing?" she demanded. "She's young, you'reboth young; and marriage--" Here she ceased. They begged her, however,to continue, with such earnestness in their voices, as if they onlycraved advice, that she was led to add:

  "Marriage! well, it's not easy."

  "That's what we want to know," they answered, and she guessed that nowthey were looking at each other.

  "It depends on both of you," she stated. Her face was turned towardsTerence, and although he could hardly see her, he believed that herwords really covered a genuine desire to know more about him. He raisedhimself from his semi-recumbent position and proceeded to tell her whatshe wanted to know. He spoke as lightly as he could in order to takeaway her depression.

  "I'm twenty-seven, and I've about seven hundred a year," he began. "Mytemper is good on the whole, and health excellent, though Hirst detectsa gouty tendency. Well, then, I think I'm very intelligent." He pausedas if for confirmation.

  Helen agreed.

  "Though, unfortunately, rather lazy. I intend to allow Rachel to be afool if she wants to, and--Do you find me on the whole satisfactory inother respects?" he asked shyly.

  "Yes, I like what I know of you," Helen replied.

  "But then--one knows so little."

  "We shall live in London," he continued, "and--" With one voice theysuddenly enquired whether she did not think them the happiest peoplethat she had ever known.

  "Hush," she checked them, "Mrs. Flushing, remember. She's behind us."

  Then they fell silent, and Terence and Rachel felt instinctively thattheir happiness had made her sad, and, while they were anxious to go ontalking about themselves, they did not like to.

  "We've talked too much about ourselves," Terence said. "Tell us--"

  "Yes, tell us--" Rachel echoed. They were both in the mood to believethat every one was capable of saying something very profound.

  "What can I tell you?" Helen reflected, speaking more to herself in arambling style than as a prophetess delivering a message. She forcedherself to speak.

  "After all, though I scold Rachel, I'm not much wiser myself. I'molder, of course, I'm half-way through, and you're just beginning. It'spuzzling--sometimes, I think, disappointing; the great things aren't asgreat, perhaps, as one expects--but it's interesting--Oh, yes, you'recertain to find it interesting--And so it goes on," they becameconscious here of the procession of dark trees into which, as far asthey could see, Helen was now looking, "and there are pleasures whereone doesn't expect them (you must write to your father), and you'll bevery happy, I've no doubt. But I must go to bed, and if you are sensibleyou will follow in ten minutes, and so," she rose and stood before them,almost featureless and very large, "Good-night." She passed behind thecurtain.

  After sitting in silence for the greater part of the ten minutes sheallowed them, they rose and hung over the rail. Beneath them thesmooth black water slipped away very fast and silently. The spark of acigarette vanished behind them. "A beautiful voice," Terence murmured.

  Rachel assented. Helen had a beautiful voice.

  After a silence she asked, looking up into the sky, "Are we on the deckof a steamer on a river in South America? Am I Rachel, are you Terence?"

  The great black world lay round them. As they were drawn smoothly alongit seemed poss
essed of immense thickness and endurance. They coulddiscern pointed tree-tops and blunt rounded tree-tops. Raising theireyes above the trees, they fixed them on the stars and the pale borderof sky above the trees. The little points of frosty light infinitely faraway drew their eyes and held them fixed, so that it seemed as ifthey stayed a long time and fell a great distance when once morethey realised their hands grasping the rail and their separate bodiesstanding side by side.

  "You'd forgotten completely about me," Terence reproached her, takingher arm and beginning to pace the deck, "and I never forget you."

  "Oh, no," she whispered, she had not forgotten, only the stars--thenight--the dark--

  "You're like a bird half asleep in its nest, Rachel. You're asleep.You're talking in your sleep."

  Half asleep, and murmuring broken words, they stood in the angle made bythe bow of the boat. It slipped on down the river. Now a bell struck onthe bridge, and they heard the lapping of water as it rippled away oneither side, and once a bird startled in its sleep creaked, flew on tothe next tree, and was silent again. The darkness poured down profusely,and left them with scarcely any feeling of life, except that they werestanding there together in the darkness.