The banks had disappeared from view. Indeed, one continued to be
reminded of their existence only by the slow passage of the scattered
fires ashore, and the fact that the darkness lay blacker and denser
around those fires than elsewhere. Dimly reflected in the river, the
stars seemed to be absolutely motionless, whereas the trailing, golden
reproductions of the steamer's lights never ceased to quiver, as though
striving to break adrift, and float away into the obscurity. Meanwhile,
foam like tissue paper was licking our dark hull, while at our stern,
and sometimes overtaking it, there trailed a barge with a couple of
lanterns in her prow, and a third on her mast, which at one moment
marked the reflections of the stars, and at another became merged with
the gleams of firelight on one or the other bank.
On a bench under a lantern near the spot where I was lying a stout
woman was asleep. With one hand resting upon a small bundle under her
head, she had her bodice torn under the armpit, so that the white flesh
and a tuft of hair could be seen protruding. Also, her face was large,
dark of brow, and full of jowl to a point that caused the cheeks to
roll to her very ears. Lastly, her thick lips were parted in an
ungainly, corpselike smile.
From my own position on a level higher than hers, I looked dreamily
down upon her, and reflected: "She is a little over forty years of age,
and (probably) a good woman. Also, she is travelling to visit either
her daughter and son-in-law, or her son and daughter-in-law, and
therefore is taking with her some presents. Also, there is in her large
heart much of the excellent and maternal."
Suddenly something near me flashed as though a match had been struck,
and, opening my eyes, I perceived the passenger in the curious
pea-jacket to be standing near the woman spoken of, and engaged in
shielding a lighted match with his sleeve. Presently, he extended his
hand and cautiously applied the particle of flame to the tuft of hair
under the woman's armpit. There followed a faint hiss, and a noxious
smell of burning hair was wafted to my nostrils.
I leapt up, seized the man by the collar, and shook him soundly.
"What are you at?" I exclaimed.
Turning in my grasp he whispered with a scarcely audible, but
exceedingly repulsive, giggle:
"Haven't I given her a good fright, eh?"
Then he added:
"Now, let me go! Let go, I say!"
"Have you lost your wits?" I retorted with a gasp.
For a moment or two his blinking eyes continued to glance at something
over my shoulder. Then they returned to me, while he whispered:
"Pray let me go. The truth is that, unable to sleep, I conceived that I
would play this woman a trick. Was there any harm in that? See, now.
She is still asleep."
As I thrust him away his short legs, legs which might almost have been
amputated, staggered under him. Meanwhile I reflected:
"No, I was NOT wrong. He DID of set purpose throw the mop overboard.
What a fellow!"
A bell sounded from the engine-room.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account