Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Novelists -- Fiction; Secretaries -- Fiction; Voyages and travels -- Fiction; West Indies -- Fiction
For reasons which I could not explain I liked the man at first sight. If
he was a rogue, I reasoned, it was no more true of him, probably, than
of most men, and there was no reason to suppose that he had any design
in going to the West Indies other than to recuperate his health, which
appeared rather delicate. If, on the contrary, he was any sort of
clergyman I would be delighted with his companionship.
When the agent introduced us to each other, as he did a few minutes
later, I discovered that the white tie had no especial significance,
being merely a fad or fancy; for Mr. Wesson informed me that he was a
hardware merchant from Boston, with a slight tendency to bronchitis,
and was going south to escape February and March, which are usually
injurious to persons affected by that complaint in the Eastern States.
I learned from the agent that the "Madiana" was filling up rapidly, and
that there were now no entire staterooms unoccupied, except two or three
containing four berths. Mr. Wesson had no choice but to share the room
of some one who was already on the list, and at the time I came in he
was making natural inquiries as to the other passengers, in the hope of
selecting a congenial roommate. The agent told him what he could about
those whom he had personally seen, but the information was necessarily
meagre.
"It may not seem specially important," remarked Mr. Wesson, in an
affable manner, to me, "who occupies the other berth, for a few weeks on
a steamer, but I happened on one occasion to get a very disagreeable
companion, and ever since I have tried to use caution. I should have
entered my name earlier, and thus have secured an entire room, as you
have done, but I waited a long time before deciding whether to come this
way or another. Now, I am just a little too late to get a room by
myself, unless I wish to pay three fares for one person, which candidly
I do not feel like doing."
I suggested that unless the boat was very much crowded, which I did not
anticipate, an arrangement for a change of cabin could doubtless be made
in case the first one proved unbearable. With the remark that this was
true, Mr. Wesson decided to take the remaining berth in a room not far
from mine, in the after part of the ship, which had the advantage of
being removed from all the smells of the cook's galley, as well as the
dumping of ashes, which often annoys people quartered amidships at a
very early hour in the morning.
I asked the agent for a list of the passengers, so far as he was able to
give them, desiring to see if there were any names of people who knew
me, and devoutly hoping there were none. Mr. Wesson and I went over them
together, and made a simultaneous announcement that the entire lot were
strangers to us.
They had come from the West, the North, the South, hardly any from New
York, and only one from Boston, a strange thing when every traveller
knows that Bostonians rival Chicagoans in being found in all sorts of
places.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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