Artists -- Fiction; Short stories, American; Storytelling -- Fiction
"I did not disturb her outlook. What use would it have been? Why tell
her of what was going on, for instance, under her very eyes? Why let her
know that that tightly built young man who seemed to be so devoted to
the pale, hollow-eyed gentleman of sixty, sitting beside him in the
smoking-room or in the steamer chairs--never five feet away from him day
or night--was a Scotland Yard detective, and that the hollow-eyed
invalid would have a pair of handcuffs slipped over his white, trembling
wrists as soon as the gang-plank was fastened to the dock? Or why let
her know that the thoughtful, clean-shaven young man who now spent most
of his time in walking the deck had never entered the smoking-room since
the first night, when the purser took him one side and, calling him by a
name not on the passenger list had informed him in measured tones that
it might interfere with his comfort if he took the wrapper from another
pack of his own or anybody else's cards during the remainder of the
voyage. Neither did I tell her, that third night out, where I had spent
the afternoon, except to say that I had been with Mr. Hunter, the Chief
Engineer, in his room several decks below where we sat--down among the
furnaces and hot steam and plunging pistons--adding that the Chief was a
great friend of mine and had been for years. If you ever get to know him
as I do he may some time, in a burst of confidence, open the drawer of a
locker behind his bunk and show you a little paper box, and inside of it
a small bit of copper about the size of a big cent with a crossbar and a
ribbon, saying that it was for gallant conduct or something like it.
"But that has got nothing to do with my perfume of tarred rope and
roses--quite another affair altogether--an affair that the Chief and I
had had some previous talk about; and so I was not surprised when his
messenger approached my chair and the girl's, and said in a low voice,
bending close to me:
"'Mr. Hunter's compliments, sir, and he would like to see you in his
room, if you don't mind. He says if you can't come it will be at twelve
sharp, and you're not to mention it to any of the passengers, sir.'
"She looked at me curiously, having heard the messenger's words, but I
did not explain, and, rising quickly, left her with the roses in her
lap--her last bunch, she told me.
"Hunter met me at the door; the Second Engineer and the ship's Doctor
were inside his room.
"'That stoker died about an hour ago, wasn't it, Doctor?' Hunter asked,
turning to the ship's surgeon.
"'Yes.'
"These men are accustomed to such incidents; there is hardly a voyage
without one or more of them. To me it was but the opening of another
crack in one of my brick walls.
"'What of?' I asked.
"'Exhaustion; want of food, perhaps, and the heat. The heart gave out,'
answered the Doctor in a perfunctory tone.
"'Do many of them go that way?' I asked.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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