Death -- Fiction; Manners and customs -- Fiction; Science fiction; Space ships -- Fiction
The first mate turned his egg over with his fork and peered
suspiciously at the underside of it. "Hit's all right fur you uns ta
feel excited. Martha an' me are still purty bitter."
"Yes," Martha said, "I don't see why the children couldn't take care of
themselves."
"Who'd get the new crew out of ice?" John, the second mate, said.
"That," the first mate admitted, "is th' problem. Can'tcha even cook an
aig?" he asked the steward.
"What's the matter with the egg?" the third mate asked.
"Hit hain't cooked right," the first mate insisted.
"Helen," the captain said, "may I see you after the meal?"
Helen looked demurely into her plate. "Certainly, captain. But if it's
about the Changing of the Wives, I've already been asked for."
"And," John said proudly, "I'll bet she was one of the first ones
asked."
"Nestir asked my wife almost a month ago," said Harry. "She was the
very first."
"Well," the captain said, "that's what I had in mind." He turned to
survey the table. His eyes lit upon Mary, the steward's wife.
She looked at him and shook her head. "John already asked me."
"Well," the captain said, "I must say, this is a very fine breakfast,
steward. I dearly love pilchards for breakfast. Convey my compliments
to the cook."
"Yes, sir."
* * * * *
"Captain," said Nestir, "I was telling the men ... just before you
came ... in about the great pageant of Koltah in the year of '93. At
the time, in a special celebration--_annum mirabelei_--we decided
to observe the ancient customs of Meizque. The customs are of some
interest, and I thought we might apply several of them to our own
Festival."
"Whatever you wish," said the captain tiredly, stirring his coffee.
Before Nestir could resume his account, John interrupted. "I want to
mention this again. I have a very special treatment for you, Captain.
You should be encouraged by that. No one will ever have a better
Casting Off than you."
"Thank you," said the captain. "I shall look forward to it." He laid
down his spoon. "Oh, Anne. May I see you?"
"I'm sorry," said the wife of Barney, the engineer. "Really and truly I
am, but I've already been asked, too."
"Oh," said the captain.
He looked over at the last officer's wife, Leota. But he quickly looked
away.
"Well," he said, "this is a fine breakfast we have this morning
steward."
"Thank you, sir. I'll tell the cook."
Jane said, in order to stave off the encroaching silence, "Nestir, how
old are you?"
"Going on forty--Jane."
"The prime of life," the steward said.
"Ah," the captain said thoughtfully. "Leota...."
She looked up and soundlessly her mouth formed the words, "Too late."
The captain dropped the spoon to his plate.
Silence fell. It grew prolonged and uncomfortable. Finally the first
mate said, "Hit hain't the right way to cook aigs, damn hit."
The captain said, "Father, I say. All the officers' wives have been
asked."
"Yes," said Nestir. "They have, haven't they?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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