Joseph Conrad

Joseph Conrad

Summary

Portrait of Joseph Conrad Joseph Conrad The Book of the Homeless (1916)

A wild and stormy abode, sometimes, was that fine, narrow-waters academy of seamanship from which I launched myself on the wide oceans. My teachers had been the coasting sailors of the Norfolk shore. Coast men, with steady eyes, mighty limbs, and gentle voice. Men of very few words, which, at least, were never bare of meaning. Honest, strong, steady men, sobered by domestic ties, one and all as far as I can remember.
That is what years ago the North Sea, I could hear growling in the dark all round the ship, had been for me.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Joseph Conrad Joseph Conrad The Book of the Homeless (1916)

At eighteen years of age, after a period of probation and training I had imposed upon myself as ordinary seaman on board a North Sea coaster, I had come up from Lowestoft—my first long railway journey in England—to “sign on” for an Antipodean voyage in a deep-water ship. Straight from a railway carriage I had walked into the great city with something of the feeling of a traveller penetrating into a vast and unexplored wilderness. No explorer could have been more lonely. I did not know a single soul of all these millions that all around me peopled the mysterious distances of the streets.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Joseph Conrad Joseph Conrad The Book of the Homeless (1916)

A citizen, a father, a warrior, a mote in the dust-cloud of six million of fighting particles, still tossed East or West in the lurid tempest, or already snapped up, an unconsidered trifle, in the jaws of war, his very humanity was not consciously impressed on my mind at the time. Mainly, for me, he was a sharp tapping of heels round the corner of the deck-house, a white yachting-cap and a green overcoat getting periodically between my eyes and the shifting cloud-horizon of the ashy-green North Sea.
Source: Wikisource

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