(Extract from the diary of Sir Eustace Pedler)There is something to be said for life on board ship. It is peaceful. Mygrey hairs fortunately exempt1 me from the indignities2 of bobbing forapples, running up and down deck with potatoes and eggs, and the morepainful sports of “Brother Bill” and Bolster3 Bar. What amusement peoplecan find in these painful proceedings4 has always been a mystery to me.
But there are many fools in the world. One praises God for their existenceand keeps out of their way.
Fortunately I am an excellent sailor. Pagett, poor fellow, is not. He beganturning green as soon as we were out of the Solent. I presume my other so-called secretary is also seasick5. At any rate he has not yet made an appear-ance. But perhaps it is not seasickness6, but high diplomacy7. The greatthing is that I have not been worried by him.
On the whole, the people onboard are a mangy lot. Only two decent Bridgeplayers and one decent-looking woman—Mrs. Clarence Blair. I’ve met her intown, of course. She is one of the only women I know who can lay claim to asense of humour. I enjoy talking to her, and should enjoy it more if it were notfor a long-legged taciturn ass8 who attached himself to her like a limpet. I can-not think that this Colonel Race really amuses her. He’s good-looking in hisway, but dull as ditch water. One of these strong silent men that lady novelistsand young girls always rave10 over.
Guy Pagett struggled up on deck after we left Madeira and began babblingin a hollow voice about work. What the devil does anyone want to work for on-board ship? It is true that I promised my publishers my “Reminiscences” earlyin the summer, but what of it? Who really reads reminiscences? Old ladies inthe suburbs. And what do my reminiscences amount to? I’ve knocked againsta certain number of so-called famous people in my lifetime. With the assist-ance of Pagett, I invented insipid11 anecdotes12 about them. And, the truth of thematter is, Pagett is too honest for the job. He won’t let me invent anecdotesabout the people I might have met but haven’t.
I tried kindness with him.
“You look a perfect wreck13 still, my dear chap,” I said easily. “What you needis a deck chair in the sun. No—not another word. The work must wait.”
The next thing I knew he was worrying about an extra cabin. “There’s noroom to work in your cabin, Sir Eustace. It’s full of trunks.”
From his tone, you might have thought the trunks were black beetles14, some-thing that had no business to be there.
I explained to him that, though he might not be aware of the fact, it wasusual to take a change of clothing with one when travelling. He gave the wansmile with which he always greets my attempts at humour, and then revertedto the business in hand.
“And we could hardly work in my little hole.”
I know Pagett’s “little holes”—he usually has the best cabin on the ship.
“I’m sorry the Captain didn’t turn out for you this time,” I said sarcastic-ally. “Perhaps you’d like to dump some of your extra luggage in my cabin?”
Sarcasm15 is dangerous with a man like Pagett. He brightened up at once.
“Well, if I could get rid of the typewriter and the stationery16 trunk—”
The stationery trunk weighs several solid tons. It causes endless unpleas-antness with the porters, and it is the aim of Pagett’s life to foist17 it on me. It isa perpetual struggle between us. He seems to regard it as my special personalproperty. I, on the other hand, regard the charge of it as the only thing wherea secretary is really useful.
“We’ll get an extra cabin,” I said hastily.
The thing seemed simple enough, but Pagett is a person who loves to makemysteries. He came to me the next day with a face like a Renaissance18 conspir-ator.
“You know you told me to get Cabin 17 for an office?”
“Well, what of it? Has the stationery trunk jammed in the doorway19?”
“The doorways20 are the same size in all the cabins,” replied Pagett seriously.
“But I tell you, Sir Eustace, there’s something very queer about that cabin.”
Memories of reading The Upper Berth21 floated through my mind.
“If you mean that it’s haunted,” I said, “we’re not going to sleep there, so Idon’t see that it matters. Ghosts don’t affect typewriters.”
Pagett said that it wasn’t a ghost and that, after all, he hadn’t got Cabin 17.
He told me a long, garbled22 story. Apparently23, he and a Mr. Chichester, and agirl called Beddingfeld, had almost come to blows over the cabin. Needless tosay, the girl had won, and Pagett was apparently feeling sore over the matter.
“Both 13 and 28 are better cabins,” he reiterated24. “But they wouldn’t look atthem.”
“Well,” I said, stifling25 a yawn, “for that matter, no more would you, mydear Pagett.”
He gave me a reproachful look.
“You told me to get Cabin 17.”
There is a touch of the “boy upon the burning deck” about Pagett.
“My dear fellow,” I said testily26, “I mentioned No. 17 because I happened toobserve that it was vacant. But I didn’t mean you to make a stand to the deathabout it—13 or 28 would have done us equally well.”
He looked hurt.
“There’s something more, though,” he insisted. “Miss Beddingfeld got thecabin, but this morning I saw Chichester coming out of it in a furtive27 sort ofway.”
I looked at him severely28.
“If you’re trying to get up a nasty scandal about Chichester, who is a mis-sionary—though a perfectly29 poisonous person—and that attractive child,Anne Beddingfeld, I don’t believe a word of it,” I said coldly. “Anne Bedding-feld is an extremely nice girl—with particularly good legs. I should say shehad far and away the best legs on board.”
Pagett did not like my reference to Anne Beddingfeld’s legs. He is the sort ofman who never notices legs himself—or, if he does, would die sooner than sayso. Also he thinks my appreciation30 of such things frivolous31. I like annoying Pa-gett, so I continued maliciously32:
“As you’ve made her acquaintance, you might ask her to dine at our tabletomorrow night. It’s the Fancy Dress dance. By the way, you’d better go downto the barber and select a fancy costume for me.”
“Surely you will not go in fancy dress?” said Pagett, in tones of horror.
I could see that it was quite incompatible33 with his idea of my dignity. Helooked shocked and pained. I had really had no intention of donning fancydress, but the complete discomfiture34 of Pagett was too tempting35 to be forborne.
“What do you mean?” I said. “Of course I shall wear fancy dress. So willyou.”
Pagett shuddered36.
“So go down to the barber’s and see about it,” I finished. “I don’t think he’llhave any out sizes,” murmured Pagett, measuring my figure with his eye.
Without meaning it, Pagett can occasionally be extremely offensive.
“And order a table for six in the saloon,” I said. “We’ll have the Captain, thegirl with the nice legs, Mrs. Blair—”
“You won’t get Mrs. Blair, without Colonel Race,” Pagett interposed. “He’sasked her to dine with him, I know.”
Pagett always knows everything. I was justifiably37 annoyed.
“Who is Race?” I demanded, exasperated38.
As I said before, Pagett always knows everything—or thinks he does. Helooked mysterious again.
“They say he’s a Secret Service chap, Sir Eustace. Rather a great gun too.
But of course I don’t know for certain.”
“Isn’t that like the Government?” I exclaimed. “Here’s a man onboardwhose business it is to carry about secret documents, and they go giving themto a peaceful outsider, who only asks to be let alone.”
Pagett looked even more mysterious. He came a pace nearer and droppedhis voice.
“If you ask me, the whole thing is very queer, Sir Eustace. Look at the illnessof mine before we started—”
“My dear fellow,” I interrupted brutally39, “that was a bilious40 attack. You’realways having bilious attacks.”
Pagett winced41 slightly.
“It wasn’t the usual sort of bilious attack. This time—”
“For God’s sake, don’t go into details of your condition, Pagett. I don’t wantto hear them.”
“Very well, Sir Eustace. But my belief is that I was deliberately42 poisoned!”
“Ah!” I said. “You’ve been talking to Rayburn.”
He did not deny it.
“At any rate, Sir Eustace, he thinks so—and he should be in a position toknow.”
“By the way, where is the chap?” I asked. “I’ve not set eyes on him since wecame onboard.”
“He gives out that he’s ill, and stays in his cabin, Sir Eustace.” Pagett’svoice dropped again. “But that’s camouflage43, I’m sure. So that he can watchbetter.”
“Watch?”
“Over your safety, Sir Eustace. In case an attack should be made upon you.”
“You’re such a cheerful fellow, Pagett,” I said. “I trust that your imagina-tion runs away with you. If I were you I should go to the dance as a death’shead or an executioner. It will suit your mournful style of beauty.”
That shut him up for the time being. I went on deck. The Beddingfeld girlwas deep in conversation with the missionary44 parson, Chichester. Women al-ways flutter round parsons.
A man of my figure hates stooping, but I had the courtesy to pick up a bit ofpaper that was fluttering round the parson’s feet.
I got no word of thanks for my pains. As a matter of fact I couldn’t help see-ing what was written on the sheet of paper. There was just one sentence.
“Don’t try to play a lone9 hand or it will be the worse for you.”
That’s a nice thing for a parson to have. Who is this fellow Chichester, Iwonder? He looks mild as milk. But looks are deceptive45. I shall ask Pagettabout him. Pagett always knows everything.
I sank gracefully46 into my deck chair by the side of Mrs. Blair, thereby47 inter-rupting her tête-à-tête with Race, and remarked that I didn’t know what theclergy were coming to nowadays.
Then I asked her to dine with me on the night of the Fancy Dress dance.
Somehow or other Race managed to get included in the invitation.
After lunch the Beddingfeld girl came and sat with us for coffee. I was rightabout her legs. They are the best on the ship. I shall certainly ask her to dinneras well.
I would very much like to know what mischief48 Pagett was up to in Florence.
Whenever Italy is mentioned, he goes to pieces. If I did not know how intenselyrespectable he is—I should suspect him of some disreputable amour. . . .
I wonder now! Even the most respectable men — It would cheer me upenormously if it was so.
Pagett—with a guilty secret! Splendid!
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1
exempt
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| adj.免除的；v.使免除；n.免税者，被免除义务者 | |
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indignities
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| n.侮辱，轻蔑( indignity的名词复数 ) | |
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bolster
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| n.枕垫；v.支持，鼓励 | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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seasick
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| adj.晕船的 | |
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seasickness
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| n.晕船 | |
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diplomacy
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| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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rave
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| vi.胡言乱语；热衷谈论；n.热情赞扬 | |
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insipid
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| adj.无味的，枯燥乏味的，单调的 | |
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anecdotes
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| n.掌故，趣闻，轶事( anecdote的名词复数 ) | |
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wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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beetles
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| n.甲虫( beetle的名词复数 ) | |
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sarcasm
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| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
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stationery
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| n.文具；(配套的)信笺信封 | |
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foist
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| vt.把…强塞给，骗卖给 | |
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renaissance
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| n.复活，复兴，文艺复兴 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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doorways
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| n.门口，门道( doorway的名词复数 ) | |
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berth
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| n.卧铺，停泊地，锚位；v.使停泊 | |
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garbled
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| adj.（指信息）混乱的，引起误解的v.对（事实）歪曲，对（文章等）断章取义，窜改( garble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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reiterated
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| 反复地说，重申( reiterate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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testily
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| adv. 易怒地, 暴躁地 | |
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furtive
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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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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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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maliciously
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| adv.有敌意地 | |
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incompatible
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| adj.不相容的，不协调的，不相配的 | |
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discomfiture
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| n.崩溃；大败；挫败；困惑 | |
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tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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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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justifiably
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| adv.无可非议地 | |
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exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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brutally
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| adv.残忍地，野蛮地，冷酷无情地 | |
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bilious
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| adj.胆汁过多的；易怒的 | |
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winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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43
camouflage
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| n./v.掩饰，伪装 | |
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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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deceptive
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| adj.骗人的，造成假象的，靠不住的 | |
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gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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47
thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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