It is most undignified for a heroine to be sea-sick. In books the more it rolls and tosses, the better she likes it. When everybody else is ill, she alone staggers along the deck, braving the elements and positively2 rejoicing in the storm. I regret to say that at the first roll the Kilmorden gave, I turned pale and hastened below. A sympathetic stewardess4 received me. She suggested dry toast and ginger5 ale.
I remained groaning6 in my cabin for three days. Forgotten was my quest. I had no longer any interest in solving mysteries. I was a totally different Anne to the one who had rushed back to the South Kensington square so jubilantly from the shipping7 office.
I smile now as I remember my abrupt8 entry into the drawing-room. Mrs. Flemming was alone there. She turned her head as I entered.
“Is that you, Anne, my dear? There is something I want to talk over with you.”
“Miss Emery is leaving me.” Miss Emery was the governness. “As you have not yet succeeded in finding anything, I wondered if you would care—it would be so nice if you remained with us altogether?”
I was touched. She didn’t want me, I knew. It was sheer Christian11 charity that prompted the offer. I felt remorseful12 for my secret criticism of her. Getting up, I ran impulsively13 across the room and flung my arms round her neck.
“You’re a dear,” I said. “A dear, a dear, a dear! And thank you ever so much. But it’s all right, I’m off to South Africa on Saturday.”
My abrupt onslaught had startled the good lady. She was not used to sudden demonstrations14 of affection. My words startled her still more.
“To South Africa? My dear Anne. We would have to look into anything of that kind very carefully.”
That was the last thing I wanted. I explained that I had already taken my passage, and that upon arrival I proposed to take up the duties of a parlourmaid. It was the only thing I could think of on the spur of the moment. There was, I said, a great demand for parlourmaids in South Africa. I assured her that I was equal to taking care of myself, and in the end, with a sigh of relief at getting me off her hands, she accepted the project without further query16. At parting, she slipped an envelope into my hand. Inside it I found five new crisp five-pound notes and the words: “I hope you will not be offended and will accept this with my love.” She was a very good, kind woman. I could not have continued to live in the same house with her, but I did recognize her intrinsic worth.
So here I was, with twenty-five pounds in my pocket, facing the world and pursuing my adventure.
It was on the fourth day that the stewardess finally urged me up on deck. Under the impression that I should die quicker below, I had steadfastly18 refused to leave my bunk19. She now tempted20 me with the advent17 of Madeira. Hope rose in my breast. I could leave the boat and go ashore21 and be a parlourmaid there. Anything for dry land.
Muffled22 in coats and rugs, and weak as a kitten on my legs, I was hauled up and deposited, an inert23 mass, on a deck-chair. I lay there with my eyes closed, hating life. The purser, a fair-haired young man, with a round boyish face, came and sat down beside me.
“Hullo! Feeling rather sorry for yourself, eh?”
“Yes,” I replied, hating him.
“Ah, you won’t know yourself in another day or two. We’ve had rather a nasty dusting in the Bay, but there’s smooth weather ahead. I’ll be taking you on at quoits to-morrow.”
I did not reply.
“Think you’ll never recover, eh? But I’ve seen people much worse than you, and two days later they were the life and soul of the ship. You’ll be the same.”
I did not feel sufficiently24 pugnacious25 to tell him outright26 that he was a liar27. I endeavoured to convey it by a glance. He chatted pleasantly for a few minutes more, then he mercifully departed. People passed and repassed, brisk couples “exercising,” curveting children, laughing young people. A few other pallid28 sufferers lay, like myself, in deck-chairs.
The air was pleasant, crisp, not too cold, and the sun was shining brightly. Insensibly, I felt a little cheered. I began to watch the people. One woman in particular attracted me. She was about thirty, of medium height and very fair with a round dimpled face and very blue eyes. Her clothes, though perfectly29 plain, had that indefinable air of “cut” about them which spoke30 of Paris. Also, in a pleasant but self-possessed way, she seemed to own the ship!
Deck stewards31 ran to and fro obeying her commands. She had a special deck-chair, and an apparently32 inexhaustible supply of cushions. She changed her mind three times as to where she would like it placed. Throughout everything she remained attractive and charming. She appeared to be one of those rare people in the world who know what they want, see that they get it, and manage to do so without being offensive. I decided33 that if I ever recovered—but of course I shouldn’t—it would amuse me to talk to her.
We reached Madeira about midday. I was still too inert to move, but I enjoyed the picturesque-looking merchants who came on board and spread their merchandise about the decks. There were flowers too. I buried my nose in an enormous bunch of sweet wet violets and felt distinctly better. In fact, I thought I might just possibly last out the end of the voyage. When my stewardess spoke of the attractions of a little chicken broth35, I only protested feebly. When it came I enjoyed it.
My attractive woman had been ashore. She came back escorted by a tall, soldierly-looking man with dark hair and a bronzed face whom I had noticed striding up and down the deck earlier in the day. I put him down at once as one of the strong, silent men of Rhodesia. He was about forty, with a touch of greying hair at either temple, and was easily the best-looking man on board.
When the stewardess brought me up an extra rug I asked her if she knew who my attractive woman was.
“That’s a well-known society lady, the Hon. Mrs. Clarence Blair. You must have read about her in the papers.”
I nodded, looking at her with renewed interest. Mrs. Blair was very well known indeed as one of the smartest women of the day. I observed, with some amusement, that she was the centre of a good deal of attention. Several people essayed to scrape acquaintance with the pleasant informality that a boat allows. I admired the polite way that Mrs. Blair snubbed them. She appeared to have adopted the strong, silent man as her special cavalier, and he seemed duly sensible of the privilege accorded him.
The following morning, to my surprise, after taking a few turns round the deck with her attentive36 companion, Mrs. Blair came to a halt by my chair.
“Feeling better this morning?”
I thanked her, and said I felt slightly more like a human being.
“You did look ill yesterday. Colonel Race and I decided that we should have the excitement of a funeral at sea—but you’ve disappointed us.”
I laughed.
“Being up in the air has done me good.”
“Nothing like fresh air,” said Colonel Race, smiling.
“Being shut up in those stuffy37 cabins would kill any one,” declared Mrs. Blair, dropping into a seat by my side and dismissing her companion with a little nod. “You’ve got an outside one, I hope?”
I shook my head.
“My dear girl! Why don’t you change? There’s plenty of room. A lot of people got off at Madeira, and the boat’s very empty. Talk to the purser about it. He’s a nice little boy—he changed me into a beautiful cabin because I didn’t care for the one I’d got. You talk to him at lunch-time when you go down.”
“I couldn’t move.”
“Don’t be silly. Come and take a walk now with me.”
She dimpled at me encouragingly. I felt very weak on my legs at first, but as we walked briskly up and down I began to feel a brighter and better being.
After a turn or two, Colonel Race joined us again.
“You can see the Grand Peak of Tenerife from the other side.”
“Can we? Can I get a photograph of it, do you think?”
Mrs. Blair laughed.
“You are unkind. Some of my photographs are very good.”
“About three per cent effective, I should say.”
We all went round to the other side of the deck. There glimmering40 white and snowy, enveloped41 in a delicate rose-coloured mist, rose the glistening42 pinnacle43. I uttered an exclamation44 of delight. Mrs. Blair ran for her camera.
“There, that’s the end of the roll. Oh,” her tone changed to one of chagrin46, “I’ve had the thing at ‘bulb’ all the time.”
“I always like to see a child with a new toy,” murmured the Colonel.
She produced it in triumph from the pocket of her sweater. A sudden roll of the boat upset her balance, and as she caught at the rail to steady herself the roll of films flashed over the side.
“Oh!” cried Mrs. Blair, comically dismayed. She leaned over. “Do you think they have gone overboard?”
A small boy who had arrived unobserved a few paces to our rear blew a deafening48 blast on a bugle49.
“Lunch,” declared Mrs. Blair ecstatically. “I’ve had nothing to eat since breakfast, except two cups of beef-tea. Lunch, Miss Beddingfeld?”
“Well,” I said waveringly. “Yes, I do feel rather hungry.”
“Splendid. You’re sitting at the purser’s table, I know. Tackle him about the cabin.”
I found my way down to the saloon, began to eat gingerly, and finished by consuming an enormous meal. My friend of yesterday congratulated me on my recovery. Every one was changing cabins to-day, he told me, and he promised that my things should be moved to an outside one without delay.
There were only four at our table, myself, a couple of elderly ladies, and a missionary50 who talked a lot about “our poor black brothers.”
I looked round at the other tables. Mrs. Blair was sitting at the Captain’s table, Colonel Race next to her. On the other side of the Captain was a distinguished-looking, grey-haired man. A good many people I had already noticed on deck, but there was one man who had not previously51 appeared. Had he done so, he could hardly have escaped my notice. He was tall and dark, and had such a peculiarly sinister53 type of countenance54 that I was quite startled. I asked the purser, with some curiosity, who he was.
“That man? Oh, that’s Sir Eustace Pedler’s secretary. Been very sea-sick, poor chap, and not appeared before. Sir Eustace has got two secretaries with him, and the sea’s been too much for both of them. The other fellow hasn’t turned up yet. This man’s name is Pagett.”
So Sir Eustace Pedler, the owner of the Mill House, was on board. Probably only a coincidence, and yet——
The more I studied the secretary’s face, the less I liked it. Its even pallor, the secretive, heavy-lidded eyes, the curiously56 flattened57 head—it all gave me a feeling of distaste, of apprehension58.
Leaving the saloon at the same time as he did, I was close behind him as he went up on deck. He was speaking to Sir Eustace, and I overheard a fragment or two. “I’ll see about the cabin at once then, shall I? It’s impossible to work in yours, with all your trunks.”
“My dear fellow,” Sir Eustace replied. “My cabin is intended (a) for me to sleep in, and (b) to attempt to dress in. I never had any intentions of allowing you to sprawl59 about the place making an infernal clicking with that typewriter of yours.”
“That’s just what I say, Sir Eustace, we must have somewhere to work——”
Here I parted company from them, and went below to see if my removal was in progress. I found my steward busy at the task.
“Very nice cabin, miss. On D deck. No. 13.”
“Oh, no!” I cried. “Not 13.”
Thirteen is the one thing I am superstitious60 about. It was a nice cabin too. I inspected it, wavered, but a foolish superstition61 prevailed. I appealed almost tearfully to the steward.
“Isn’t there any other cabin I can have?”
The steward reflected.
“Well, there’s 17, just along on the starboard side. That was empty this morning, but I rather fancy it’s been allotted62 to some one. Still, as the gentleman’s things aren’t in yet, and as gentlemen aren’t anything like so superstitious as ladies, I dare say he wouldn’t mind changing.”
I hailed the proposition gratefully, and the steward departed to obtain permission from the purser. He returned grinning.
“That’s all right, miss. We can go along.”
“I’ll fetch your things right away, miss,” said the steward.
But at that moment, the man with the sinister face (as I had nicknamed him) appeared in the doorway64.
“Excuse me,” he said, “but this cabin is reserved for the use of Sir Eustace Pedler.”
“That’s all right, sir,” explained the steward. “We’re fitting up No. 13 instead.”
“No, it was No. 17 I was to have.”
“No. 13 is a better cabin, sir—larger.”
“I’m sorry,” I said coldly. “But No. 17 has been allotted to me.”
“I can’t agree to that.”
“The other cabin’s just the same, only better.”
“I want No. 17.”
“What’s all this?” demanded a new voice. “Steward, put my things in here. This is my cabin.”
“I beg your pardon,” I said. “It’s my cabin.”
“It is allotted to Sir Eustace Pedler,” said Mr. Pagett.
We were all getting rather heated.
“I’m sorry to have to dispute the matter,” said Chichester with a meek66 smile which failed to mask his determination to get his own way. Meek men are always obstinate67, I have noticed.
He edged himself sideways into the doorway.
“You’re to have No. 28 on the port side,” said the steward. “A very good cabin, sir.”
“I am afraid that I must insist. No. 17 was the cabin promised to me.”
We had come to an impasse68. Each one of us was determined69 not to give way. Strictly70 speaking, I, at any rate, might have retired71 from the contest and eased matters by offering to accept Cabin 28. So long as I did not have 13 it was immaterial to me what other cabin I had. But my blood was up. I had not the least intention of being the first to give way. And I disliked Chichester. He had false teeth which clicked when he ate. Many men have been hated for less.
We all said the same things over again. The steward assured us, even more strongly, that both the other cabins were better cabins. None of us paid any attention to him.
Pagett began to lose his temper. Chichester kept his serenely72. With an effort I also kept mine. And still none of us would give way an inch.
A wink73 and a whispered word from the steward gave me my cue. I faded unobtrusively from the scene. I was lucky enough to encounter the purser almost immediately.
“Oh, please,” I said, “you did say I could have Cabin 17? And the others won’t go away. Mr. Chichester and Mr. Pagett. You will let me have it, won’t you?”
I always say that there are no people like sailors for being nice to women. My little purser came to the scratch splendidly. He strode to the scene, informed the disputants that No. 17 was my cabin, they could have Nos. 13 and 28 respectively or stay where they were—whichever they chose.
I permitted my eyes to tell him what a hero he was and then installed myself in my new domain74. The encounter had done me worlds of good. The sea was smooth, the weather growing daily warmer. Sea-sickness was a thing of the past!
I went up on deck and was initiated75 into the mysteries of deck-quoits. I entered my name for various sports. Tea was served on deck, and I ate heartily76. After tea, I played shovel-board with some pleasant young men. They were extraordinarily77 nice to me. I felt that life was satisfactory and delightful78.
The dressing79 bugle came as a surprise and I hurried to my new cabin. The stewardess was awaiting me with a troubled face.
“There’s a terrible smell in your cabin, miss. What it is, I’m sure I can’t think, but I doubt if you’ll be able to sleep here. There’s a deck cabin up on C deck, I believe. You might move into that—just for the night, anyway.”
The smell really was pretty bad—quite nauseating80. I told the stewardess I would think over the question of moving whilst I dressed. I hurried over my toilet, sniffing81 distastefully as I did so.
What was the smell? Dead rat? No, worse than that—and quite different. Yet I knew it! It was something I had smelt82 before. Something——Ah! I had got it. Asaf?tida! I had worked in a Hospital dispensary during the war for a short time and had become acquainted with various nauseous drugs.
Asaf?tida, that was it. But how——
I sank down on the sofa, suddenly realizing the thing. Somebody had put a pinch of asaf?tida in my cabin. Why? So that I should vacate it? Why were they so anxious to get me out? I thought of the scene this afternoon from a rather different point of view. What was there about Cabin 17 that made so many people anxious to get hold of it? The other two cabins were better cabins, why had both men insisted on sticking to 17?
17. How the number persisted. It was on the 17th I had sailed from Southampton. It was a 17—I stopped with a sudden gasp83. Quickly I unlocked my suit-case, and took my precious paper from its place of concealment84 in some rolled stockings.
17 1 22—I had taken that for a date, the date of departure of the Kilmorden Castle. Supposing I was wrong. When I came to think of it, would any one, writing down a date, think it necessary to put the year as well as the month? Supposing 17 meant Cabin 17? And 1? The time—one o’clock. Then 22 must be the date. I looked up at my little almanac.
To-morrow was the 22nd!
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1
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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steward
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| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
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stewardess
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| n.空中小姐，女乘务员 | |
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ginger
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| n.姜，精力，淡赤黄色；adj.淡赤黄色的；vt.使活泼，使有生气 | |
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groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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shipping
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| n.船运（发货，运输，乘船） | |
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abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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curbing
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| n.边石，边石的材料v.限制，克制，抑制( curb的现在分词 ) | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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remorseful
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| adj.悔恨的 | |
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impulsively
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| adv.冲动地 | |
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demonstrations
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| 证明( demonstration的名词复数 )； 表明； 表达； 游行示威 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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query
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| n.疑问，问号，质问；vt.询问，表示怀疑 | |
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advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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steadfastly
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| adv.踏实地，不变地；岿然；坚定不渝 | |
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bunk
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| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
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tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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inert
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| adj.无活动能力的，惰性的；迟钝的 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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pugnacious
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| adj.好斗的 | |
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outright
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| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
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liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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stewards
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| （轮船、飞机等的）乘务员( steward的名词复数 )； （俱乐部、旅馆、工会等的）管理员； （大型活动的）组织者； （私人家中的）管家 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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oar
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| n.桨，橹，划手；v.划行 | |
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broth
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| n.原(汁)汤(鱼汤、肉汤、菜汤等) | |
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attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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stuffy
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| adj.不透气的，闷热的 | |
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shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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deter
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| vt.阻止，使不敢，吓住 | |
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glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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pinnacle
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| n.尖塔，尖顶，山峰；(喻)顶峰 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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sardonic
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| adj.嘲笑的，冷笑的，讥讽的 | |
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chagrin
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| n.懊恼；气愤；委屈 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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deafening
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| adj. 振耳欲聋的, 极喧闹的 动词deafen的现在分词形式 | |
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bugle
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| n.军号，号角，喇叭；v.吹号，吹号召集 | |
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missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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rev
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| v.发动机旋转，加快速度 | |
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sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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pompous
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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flattened
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| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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sprawl
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| vi.躺卧，扩张，蔓延；vt.使蔓延；n.躺卧，蔓延 | |
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superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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62
allotted
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| 分配，拨给，摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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eminently
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| adv.突出地；显著地；不寻常地 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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impasse
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| n.僵局；死路 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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serenely
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| adv.安详地，宁静地，平静地 | |
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wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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domain
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| n.(活动等)领域，范围；领地，势力范围 | |
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initiated
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| n. 创始人 adj. 新加入的 vt. 开始，创始，启蒙，介绍加入 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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nauseating
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| adj.令人恶心的，使人厌恶的v.使恶心，作呕( nauseate的现在分词 ) | |
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sniffing
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| n.探查法v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的现在分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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82
smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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concealment
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| n.隐藏, 掩盖，隐瞒 | |
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