ONCE
ON the long, covered piers, you have come into a ghostly
country
that is no longer Here and not yet There. Especially at
night.
There is a hazy yellow vault full of shouting, echoing voices.
There
is the rumble of trucks and the clump of trunks, the strident
chatter
of a crane and the first salt smell of the sea. You hurry
through,
even though there's time. The past, the continent, is behind
you
; the future is that glowing mouth in the side of the ship ; this dim
turbulent
alley is too confusedly the present.
Up
the gangplank, and the vision of the world adjusts itself, nar-
rows.
One is a citizen of a commonwealth smaller than Andorra. One
is
no longer so sure of anything. Curiously unmoved the men at the
purser's
desk, cell-like the cabin, disdainful the eyes of voyagers and
their
friends, solemn the officer who stands on the deserted prome-
nade
deck thinking something of his own as he stares at the crowd
below.
A last odd idea that one didn't really have to come, then the
loud,
mournful whistles, and the thing certainly not a boat, but
rather
a human idea, a frame of mind pushes forth into the big
dark
night.
Adrian
Smith, one of the celebrities on board not a very great
celebrity,
but important enough to be bathed in flash light by a
photographer
who had been given his name, but wasn't sure what his
subject
"did" Adrian Smith and his blond wife, Eva, went up to the
promenade
deck, passed the melancholy ship's officer, and, finding a
quiet
aerie, put their elbows on the rail.
"We're
going!" he cried presently, and they both laughed in
ecstasy.
"We've escaped. They can't get us now."
"Who?"
He
waved his hand vaguely at the civic tiara.
"All
those people out there. They'll come with their posses and
their
warrants and list of crimes we've committed, and ring the bell
at
our door on Park Avenue and ask for the Adrian Smiths, but
what
ho ! the Adrian Smiths and their children and nurse are off for
France."
"You
make me think we really have committed crimes."
"They
can't have you," he said, frowning. "That's one thing they're
after
me about they know I haven't got any right to a person like
you,
and they're furious. That's one reason I'm glad to get away."
"Darling,"
said Eva.
She
was twenty-six five years younger than he. She was something
precious
to everyone who knew her.
"I
like this boat better than the Majestic or the Aquitania" she
remarked,
unfaithful to the ships that had served their honeymoon.
"It's
much smaller."
"But
it's very slick and it has all those little shops along the
corridors.
And I think the staterooms are bigger."
"The
people are very formal did you notice ? as if they thought
everyone
else was a card sharp. And in about four days half of them
will
be calling the other half by their first names."
Four
of the people came by now a quartet of young girls abreast,
making
a circuit of the deck. Their eight eyes swept momentarily
toward
Adrian and Eva, and then swept automatically back, save for
one
pair which lingered for an instant with a little start. They be-
longed
to one of the girls in the middle, who was, indeed, the only
passenger
of the four. She was not more than eighteen a dark little
beauty
with the fine crystal gloss over her that, in brunettes, takes
the
place of a blonde's bright glow.
"Now,
who's that?" wondered Adrian. "I've seen her before."
"She's
pretty," said Eva.
"Yes."
He kept wondering, and Eva deferred momentarily to his
distraction
; then, smiling up at him, she drew him back into their
privacy.
"Tell
me more," she said.
"About
what?"
"About
us what a good time we'll have, and how we'll be much
better
and happier, and very close always."
"How
could we be any closer?" His arm pulled her to him.
"But
I mean never even quarrel any more about silly things. You
know,
I made up my mind when you gave me my birthday present
last
week" her fingers caressed the fine seed pearls at her throat
"that
I'd try never to say a mean thing to you again."
"You
never have, my precious."
Yet
even as he strained her against his side she knew that the mo-
ment
of utter isolation had passed almost before it had begun. His
antennae
were already out, feeling over this new world.
"Most
of the people look rather awful," he said "little and
swarthy
and ugly. Americans didn't use to look like that."
"They
look dreary," she agreed. "Let's not get to know anybody,
but
just say together."
A
gong was beating now, and stewards were shouting down the
decks,
"Visitors ashore, please!" and voices rose to a strident
chorus.
For a while the gangplanks were thronged ; then they were
empty,
and the jostling crowd behind the barrier waved and called
unintelligible
things, and kept up a grin of good will. As the steve-
dores
began to work at the ropes a flat-faced, somewhat befuddled
young
man arrived in a great hurry and was assisted up the gang-
plank
by a porter and a taxi driver. The ship having swallowed him
as
impassively as though he were a missionary for Beirut, a low,
portentous
vibration began. The pier with its faces commenced to
slide
by, and for a moment the boat was just a piece accidentally
split
off from it; then the faces became remote, voiceless, and the
pier
was one among many yellow blurs along the water front. Now
the
harbor flowed swiftly toward the sea.
On
a northern parallel of latitude a hurricane was forming and
moving
south by southeast preceded by a strong west wind. On its
course
it was destined to swamp the Peter I. Eudim of Amsterdam,
with
a crew of sixty-six, to break a boom on the largest boat in the
world,
and to bring grief and want to the wives of several hundred
seamen.
This liner, leaving New York Sunday evening, would enter
the
zone of the storm Tuesday, and of the hurricane late Wednes-
day
night.
II
Tuesday
afternoon Adrian and Eva paid their first visit to the
smoking
room. This was not in accord with their intentions they
had
"never wanted to see a cocktail again" after leaving America
but
they had forgotten the staccato loneliness of ships, and all ac-
tivity
centered about the bar. So they went in for just a minute.
It
was full. There were those who had been there since luncheon,
and
those who would be there until dinner, not to mention a faithful
few
who had been there since nine this morning. It was a prosperous
assembly,
taking its recreation at bridge, solitaire, detective stories,
alcohol,
argument and love. Up to this point you could have matched
it
in the club or casino life of any country, but over it all played a
repressed
nervous energy, a barely disguised impatience that ex-
tended
to old and young alike. The cruise had begun, and they had
enjoyed
the beginning, but the show was not varied enough to last
six
days, and already they wanted it to be over.
At
a table near them Adrian saw the pretty girl who had stared at
him
on the deck the first night. Again he was fascinated by her love-
liness;
there was no mist upon the brilliant gloss that gleamed
through
the smoky confusion of the room. He and Eva had decided
from
the passenger list that she was probably "Miss Elizabeth
D'Amido
and maid," and he had heard her called Betsy as he walked
past
a deck-tennis game. Among the young people with her was the
flat-nosed
youth who had been "poured on board" the night of their
departure
; yesterday he had walked the deck morosely, but he was
apparently
reviving. Miss D'Amido whispered something to him, and
he
looked over at the Smiths with curious eyes. Adrian was new
enough
at being a celebrity to turn self-consciously away.
"There's
a little roll. Do you feel it?" Eva demanded.
"Perhaps
we'd better split a pint of champagne."
While
he gave the order a short colloquy was taking place at the
other
table ; presently a young man rose and came over to them.
"Isn't
this Mr. Adrian Smith?"
"Yes."
"We
wondered if we couldn't put you down for the deck-tennis
tournament.
We're going to have a deck-tennis tournament."
"Why
" Adrian hesitated.
"My
name's Stacomb," burst out the young man. "We all know
your
your plays or whatever it is, and all that and we wondered
if
you wouldn't like to come over to our table."
Somewhat
overwhelmed, Adrian laughed: Mr. Stacomb, glib, soft,
slouching,
waited ; evidently under the impression that he had de-
livered
himself of a graceful compliment.
Adrian,
understanding that, too, replied: "Thanks, but perhaps
you'd
better come over here."
"We've
got a bigger table."
"But
we're older and more more settled."
The
young man laughed kindly, as if to say, "That's all right."
"Put
me down," said Adrian. "How much do I owe you?"
"One
buck. Call me Stac."
"Why?"
asked Adrian, startled.
"It's
shorter."
When
he had gone they smiled broadly.
"Heavens,"
Eva gasped, "I believe they are coming over."
They
were. With a great draining of glasses, calling of waiters,
shuffling
of chairs, three boys and two girls moved to the Smiths'
table.
If there was any diffidence, it was confined to the hosts ; for
the
new additions gathered around them eagerly, eying Adrian with
respect
too much respect as if to say: "This was probably a mis-
take
and won't be amusing, but maybe we'll get something out of it
to
help us in our after life, like at school."
In
a moment Miss D'Amido changed seats with one of the men
and
placed her radiant self at Adrian's side, looking at him with
manifest
admiration.
"I
fell in love with you the minute I saw you," she said, audibly
and
without self-consciousness ; "so 111 take all the blame for butting
in.
IVe seen your play four times."
Adrian
called a waiter to take their orders.
"You
see," continued Miss D'Amido, "we're going into a storm,
and
you might be prostrated the rest of the trip, so I couldn't take
any
chances."
He
saw that there was no undertone or innuendo in what she said,
nor
the need of any. The words themselves were enough, and the
deference
with which she neglected the young men and bent her
politeness
on him was somehow very touching. A little glow went
over
him ; he was having rather more than a pleasant time.
Eva
was less entertained; but the flat-nosed young man, whose
name
was Butterworth, knew people that she did, and that seemed
to
make the affair less careless and casual. She did not like meeting
new
people unless they had "something to contribute," and she was
often
bored by the great streams of them, of all types and conditions
and
classes, that passed through Adrian's life. She herself "had
everything"
which is to say that she was well endowed with
talents
and with charm and the mere novelty of people did not
seem
a sufficient reason for eternally offering everything up to
them.
Half
an hour later when she rose to go and see the children, she
was
content that the episode was over. It was colder on deck, with a
damp
that was almost rain, and there was a perceptible motion.
Opening
the door of her stateroom she was surprised to find the
cabin
steward sitting languidly on her bed, his head slumped upon
the
upright pillow. He looked at her listlessly as she came in, but
made
no move to get up.
"When
you've finished your nap you can fetch me a new pillow-
case,"
she said briskly.
Still
the man didn't move. She perceived then that his face was
green.
"You
can't be seasick in here," she announced firmly. "You go and
lie
down in your own quarters."
"It's
me side," he said faintly. He tried to rise, gave out a little
rasping
sound of pain and sank back again. Eva rang for the stew-
ardess.
A
steady pitch, toss, roll had begun in earnest and she felt no sym-
pathy
for the steward, but only wanted to get him out as quick as
possible.
It was outrageous for a member of the crew to be seasick.
When
the stewardess came in Eva tried to explain this, but now her
own
head was whirring, and throwing herself on the bed, she covered
her
eyes.
"It's
his fault," she groaned when the man was assisted from the
room.
"I was all right and it made me sick to look at him. I wish he'd
die."
In
a few minutes Adrian came in.
"Oh,
but I'm sick ! " she cried.
"Why,
you poor baby." He leaned over and took her in his arms.
"Why
didn't you tell me?"
"I
was all right upstairs, but there was a steward Oh, I'm too
sick
to talk."
"You'd
better have dinner in bed."
"Dinner
! Oh, my heavens I "
He
waited solicitously, but she wanted to hear his voice, to have
it
drown out the complaining sound of the beams.
"Where've
you been?"
"Helping
to sign up people for the tournament."
"Will
they have it if it's like this? Because if they do I'll just lose
for
you."
He
didn't answer ; opening her eyes, she saw that he was frown-
ing.
"I
didn't know you were going in the doubles," he said.
"Why,
that's the only fun."
"I
told the D'Amido girl I'd play with her."
"Oh."
"I
didn't think. You know I'd much rather play with you."
"Why
didn't you, then?" she asked coolly. '
"It
never occurred to me."
She
remembered that on their honeymoon they had been in the
finals
and won a prize. Years passed. But Adrian never frowned in
this
regretful way unless he felt a little guilty. He stumbled about,
getting
his dinner clothes out of the trunk, and she shut her eyes.
When
a particular violent lurch startled her awake again he was
dressed
and tying his tie. He looked healthy and fresh, and his eyes
were
bright.
"Well,
how about it?" he inquired. "Can you make it, or no?"
"No."
"Can
I do anything for you before I go?"
"Where
are you going?"
"Meeting
those kids in the bar. Can I do anything for you?"
"No."
"Darling,
I hate to leave you like this."
"Don't
be silly. I just want to sleep."
That
solicitous frown when she knew he was crazy to be out and
away
from the close cabin. She was glad when the door closed. The
thing
to do was to sleep, sleep.
Up
down sideways. Hey there, not so far I Pull her round the
corner
there! Now roll her, right left Crea-eak! Wrench!
Swoop
I
Some
hours later Eva was dimly conscious of Adrian bending over
her.
She wanted him to put his arms around her and draw her up
out
of this dizzy lethargy, but by the time she was fully awake the
cabin
was empty. He had looked in and gone. When she awoke next
the
cabin was dark and he was in bed.
The
morning was fresh and cool, and the sea was just enough
calmer
to make Eva think she could get up. They breakfasted in the
cabin
and with Adrian's help she accomplished an unsatisfactory
makeshift
toilet and they went up on the boat deck. The tennis
tournament
had already begun and was furnishing action for a
dozen
amateur movie cameras, but the majority of passengers were
represented
by lifeless bundles in deck chairs beside untasted trays.
Adrian
and Miss D'Amido played their first match. She was deft
and
graceful ; blatantly well. There was even more warmth behind
her
ivory skin than there had been the day before. The strolling
first
officer stopped and talked to her ; half a dozen men whom she
couldn't
have known three days ago called her Betsy. She was al-
ready
the pretty girl of the voyage, the cynosure of starved ship's
eyes.
But
after a while Eva preferred to watch the gulls in the wireless
masts
and the slow slide of the roll-top sky. Most of the passengers
looked
silly with their movie cameras that they had all rushed to get
and
now didn't know what to use for, but the sailors painting the
lifeboat
stanchions were quiet and beaten and sympathetic, and
probably
wished, as she did, that the voyage was over.
Butterworth
sat down on the deck beside her chair.
"They're
operating on one of the stewards this morning. Must be
terrible
in this sea."
"Operating?
What for?" she asked listlessly.
"Appendicitis.
They have to operate now because we're going into
worse
weather. That's why they're having the ship's party tonight."
"Oh,
the poor man ! " she cried, realizing it must be her steward.
Adrian
was showing off now by being very courteous and thought-
ful
in the game.
"Sorry.
Did you hurt yourself? . . . No, it was my fault. . . .
You
better put on your coat right away, pardner, or you'll catch
cold."
The
match was over and they had won. Flushed and hearty, he
came
up to Eva's chair.
"How
do you feel?"
"Terrible."
"Winners
are buying a drink in the bar," he said apologetically.
"I'm
coming, too," Eva said, but an immediate dizziness made her
sink
back in her chair.
"You'd
better stay here. I'll send you up something."
She
felt that his public manner had hardened toward her slightly.
"You'll
come back?"
"Oh,
right away."
She
was alone on the boat deck, save for a solitary ship's officer
who
slanted obliquely as he paced the bridge. When the cocktail
arrived
she forced herself to drink it, and felt better. Trying to dis-
tract
her mind with pleasant things, she reached back to the sanguine
talks
that she and Adrian had had before sailing : There was the little
villa
in Brittany, the children learning French that was all she
could
think of now the little villa in Brittany, the children learn-
ing
French so she repeated the words over and over to herself until
they
became as meaningless as the wide white sky. The why of their
being
here had suddenly eluded her; she felt unmotivated, acci-
dental,
and she wanted Adrian to come back quick, all responsive and
tender,
to reassure her. It was in the hope that there was some se-
cret
of graceful living, some real compensation for the lost, careless
confidence
of twenty-one, that they were going to spend a year in
France.
The
day passed darkly, with fewer people around and a wet sky
falling.
Suddenly it was five o'clock, and they were all in the bar
again,
and Mr. Butterworth was telling her about his past. She took
a
good deal of champagne, but she was seasick dimly through it, as
if
the illness was her soul trying to struggle up through some thick-
ening
incrustation of abnormal life.
"You're
my idea of a Greek goddess, physically," Butterworth was
saying.
It
was pleasant to be Mr. Butterworth's idea of a Greek goddess
physically,
but where was Adrian? He and Miss D'Amido had gone
out
on a forward deck to feel the spray. Eva heard herself promising
to
get out her colors and paint the Eiffel Tower on Butterworth's
shirt
front for the party tonight.
When
Adrian and Betsy D'Amido, soaked with spray, opened the
door
with difficulty against the driving wind and came into the now-
covered
security of the promenade deck, they stopped and turned
toward
each other.
"Well?"
she said. But he only stood with his back to the rail,
looking
at her, afraid to speak. She was silent, too, because she
wanted
him to be first; so for a moment nothing happened. Then
she
made a step toward him, and he took her in his arms and kissed
her
forehead.
"You're
just sorry for me, that's all." She began to cry a little.
"You're
just being kind."
"I
feel terribly about it." His voice was taut and trembling.
"Then
kiss me."
The
deck was empty. He bent over her swiftly.
"No,
really kiss me."
He
could not remember when anything had felt so young and fresh
as
her lips. The rain lay, like tears shed for him, upon the softly
shining
porcelain cheeks. She was all new and immaculate, and her
eyes
were wild.
"I
love you," she whispered. "I can't help loving you, can I? When
I
first saw you oh, not on the boat, but over a year ago Grace
Heally
took me to a rehearsal and suddenly you jumped up in the
second
row and began telling them what to do. I wrote you a letter
and
tore it up."
"We've
got to go."
She
was weeping as they walked along the deck. Once more, im-
prudently,
she held up her face to him at the door of her cabin. His
blood
was beating through him in wild tumult as he walked on to the
bar.
He
was thankful that Eva scarcely seemed to notice him or to
know
that he had been gone. After a moment he pretended an inter-
est
in what she was doing.
"What's
that?"
"She's
painting the Eiffel Tower on my shirt front for tonight,"
explained
Butterworth.
"There,"
Eva laid away her brush and wiped her hands. "How's
that?"
"A
chef-d'oeuvre:'
Her
eyes swept around the watching group, lingered casually upon
Adrian.
"You're
wet. Go and change."
"You
come too."
"I
want another champagne cocktail."
"You've
had enough. It's time to dress for the party."
Unwilling
she closed her paints and preceded him.
"Stacomb's
got a table for nine," he remarked as they walked
along
the corridor.
"The
younger set," she said with unnecessary bitterness. "Oh,
the
younger set. And you just having the time of your life with
a
child."
They
had a long discussion in the cabin, unpleasant on her part
and
evasive on his, which ended when the ship gave a sudden gigan-
tic
heave, and Eva, the edge worn off her champagne, felt ill again.
There
was nothing to do but to have a cocktail in the cabin, and
after
that they decided to go to the party she believed him now, or
she
didn't care.
Adrian
was ready first he never wore fancy dress.
"I'll
go on up. Don't be long."
"Wait
for me, please ; it's rocking so."
He
sat down on a bed, concealing his impatience.
"You
don't mind waiting, do you? I don't want to parade up there
all
alone." /
She
was taking a tuck in an oriental costume rented from the
barber.
"Ships
make people feel crazy," she said. "I think they're awful."
"Yes,"
he muttered absently.
"When
it gets very bad I pretend I'm in the top of a tree, rocking
to
and fro. But finally I get pretending everything, and finally I have
to
pretend I'm sane when I know I'm not."
"If
you get thinking that way you will go crazy."
"Look,
Adrian." She held up the string of pearls before clasping
them
on. "Aren't they lovely?"
In
Adrian's impatience she seemed to move around the cabin
like
a figure in a slow-motion picture. After a moment he de-
manded
:
"Are
you going to be long? It's stifling in here."
"You
go on ! " she fired up.
"I
don't want "
"Go
on, please ! You just make me nervous trying to hurry me."
With
a show of reluctance he left her. After a moment's hesitation
he
went down a flight to a deck below and knocked at a door.
"Betsy."
"Just
a minute."
She
came out in the corridor attired in a red pea-jacket and
trousers
borrowed from the elevator boy.
"Do
elevator boys have fleas ?" she demanded. "I've got everything
in
the world on under this as a precaution."
"I
had to see you," he said quickly.
"Careful,"
she whispered. "Mrs. Worden, who's supposed to be
chaperoning
me, is across the way. She's sick."
"I'm
sick for you."
They
kissed suddenly, clung close together in the narrow corridor,
swaying
to and fro with the motion of the ship.
"Don't
go away," she murmured.
"I've
got to. I've "
Her
youth seemed to flow into him, bearing him up into a delicate,
romantic
ecstasy that transcended passion. He couldn't relinquish it ;
he
had discovered something that he had thought was lost with his
own
youth forever. As he walked along the passage he knew that he
had
stopped thinking, no longer dared to think.
He
met Eva going into the bar.
"WhereVe
you been?" she asked with a strained smile.
"To
see about the table."
She
was lovely ; her cool distinction conquered the trite costume
and
filled him with a resurgence of approval and pride. They sat
down
at a table.
The
gale was rising hour by hour and the mere traversing of a
passage
had become a rough matter. In every stateroom trunks were
lashed
to the washstands, and the Vestris disaster was being re-
viewed
in detail by nervous ladies, tossing, ill and wretched, upon
their
beds. In the smoking room a stout gentleman had been hurled
backward
and suffered a badly cut head ; and now the lighter chairs
and
tables were stacked and roped against the wall.
The
crowd who had donned fancy dress and were dining together
had
swollen to about sixteen. The only remaining qualification for
membership
was the ability to reach the smoking room. They ranged
from
a Groton-Harvard lawyer to an ungrammatical broker they had
nicknamed
Gyp the Blood, but distinctions had disappeared ; for the
moment
they were samurai, chosen from several hundred for their
triumphant
resistance to the storm.
The
gala dinner, overhung sardonically with lanterns and stream-
ers,
was interrupted by great communal slides across the room, pre-
cipitate
retirements and spilled wine, while the ship roared and com-
plained
that under the panoply of a palace it was a ship after all.
Upstairs
afterward a dozen couples tried to dance, shuffling and
galloping
here and there in a crazy fandango, thrust around fan-
tastically
by a will alien to their own. In view of the condition of
tortured
hundreds below, there grew to be something indecent about
it,
like a revel in a house of mourning, and presently there was an
egress
of the ever-dwindling survivors toward the bar.
As
the evening passed, Eva's feeling of unreality increased. Adrian
had
disappeared presumably with Miss D'Amido and her mind,
distorted
by illness and champagne, began to enlarge upon the fact ;
annoyance
changed slowly to dark and brooding anger, grief to des-
peration.
She had never tried to bind Adrian, never needed to for
they
were serious people, with all sorts of mutual interests, and satis-
fied
with each other but this was a breach of the contract, this
was
cruel. How could he think that she didn't know ?
It
seemed several hours later that he leaned over her chair in the
bar
where she was giving some woman an impassioned lecture upon
babies,
and said:
"Eva,
we'd better turn in."
Her
lip curled. "So that you can leave me there and then come
back
to your eighteen-year "
"Be
quiet."
"I
won't come to bed."
"Very
well. Good night."
More
time passed and the people at the table changed. The stew-
ards
wanted to close up the room, and thinking of Adrian her
Adrian
off somewhere saying tender things to someone fresh and
lovely,
Eva began to cry.
"But
he's gone to bed," her last attendants assured her. "We saw
him
go."
She
shook her head. She knew better. Adrian was lost. The long
seven-year
dream was broken. Probably she was punished for some-
thing
she had done ; as this thought occurred to her the shrieking
timbers
overhead began to mutter that she had guessed at last. This
was
for the selfishness to her mother, who hadn't wanted her to marry
Adrian
; for all the sins and omissions of her life. She stood up, say-
ing
she must go out and get some air.
The
deck was dark and drenched with wind and rain. The ship
pounded
through valleys, fleeing from black mountains of water
that
roared toward it. Looking out at the night, Eva saw that there
was
no chance for them unless she could make atonement, propitiate
the
storm. It was Adrian's love that was demanded of her. Deliber-
ately
she unclasped her pearl necklace, lifted it to her lips for she
knew
that with it went the freshest, fairest part of her life and
flung
it out into the gale.
Ill
When
Adrian awoke it was lunchtime, but he knew that some
heavier
sound than the bugle had called him up from his deep sleep.
Then
he realized that the trunk had broken loose from its lashings
and
was being thrown back and forth between a wardrobe and Eva's
bed.
With an exclamation he jumped up, but she was unharmed
still
in costume and stretched out in deep sleep. When the steward
had
helped him secure the trunk, Eva opened a single eye.
"How
are you?" he demanded, sitting on the side of her bed.
She
closed the eye, opened it again.
"We're
in a hurricane now," he told her. "The steward says it's
the
worst he's seen in twenty years."
"My
head," she muttered. "Hold my head."
"How?"
"In
front. My eyes are going out. I think I'm dying."
"Nonsense.
Do you want the doctor?"
She
gave a funny little gasp that frightened him ; he rang and sent
the
steward for the doctor.
The
young doctor was pale and tired. There was a stubble of beard
upon
his face. He bowed curtly as he came in and, turning to Adrian,
said
with scant ceremony :
"What's
the matter?"
"My
wife doesn't feel well."
"Well,
what is it you want a bromide?"
A
little annoyed by his shortness, Adrian said: "You'd better
examine
her and see what she needs."
"She
needs a bromide," said the doctor. "I've given orders that
she
is not to have any more to drink on this ship."
"Why
not?" demanded Adrian in astonishment.
"Don't
you know what happened last night?"
"Why,
no, I was asleep."
"Mrs.
Smith wandered around the boat for an hour, not knowing
what
she was doing. A sailor was set to follow her, and then the
medical
stewardess tried to get her to bed, and your wife insulted
her."
"Oh,
my heavens!" cried Eva faintly.
"The
nurse and I had both been up all night with Steward Carton,
who
died this morning." He picked up his case. "I'll send down a
bromide
for Mrs. Smith. Good-by."
For
a few minutes there was silence in the cabin. Then Adrian
put
his arm around her quickly.
"Never
mind," he said. "We'll straighten it out."
"I
remember now." Her voice was an awed whisper. "My pearls. 1
threw
them overboard."
"Threw
them overboard ! "
"Then
I began looking for you."
"But
I was here in bed."
"I
didn't believe it ; I thought you were with that girl."
"She
collapsed during dinner. I was taking a nap down here."
Frowning,
he rang the bell and asked the steward for luncheon
and
a bottle of beer.
"Sorry,
but we can't serve any beer to your cabin, sir."
When
he went out Adrian exploded: "This is an outrage. You
were
simply crazy from that storm and they can't be so high-handed.
I'll
see the captain."
"Isn't
that awful?" Eva murmured. "The poor man died."
She
turned over and began to sob into her pillow. There was a
knock
at the door.
"Can
I come in?"
The
assiduous Mr. Butterworth, surprisingly healthy and immacu-
late,
came into the crazily tipping cabin.
"Well,
how's the mystic?" he demanded of Eva. "Do you remem-
ber
praying to the elements in the bar last night?"
"I
don't want to remember anything about last night."
They
told him about the stewardess, and with the telling the situa-
tion
lightened ; they all laughed together.
"I'm
going to get you some beer to have with your luncheon,"
Butterworth
said. "You ought to get up on deck."
"Don't
go," Eva said. "You look so cheerful and nice."
"Just
for ten minutes."
When
he had gone, Adrian rang for two baths.
"The
thing is to put on our best clothes and walk proudly three
times
around the deck," he said.
"Yes."
After a moment she added abstractedly: "I like that
young
man. He was awfully nice to me last night when you'd dis-
appeared."
The
bath steward appeared with the information that bathing
was
too dangerous today. They were in the midst of the wildest
hurricane
on the North Atlantic in ten years ; there were two broken
arms
this morning from attempts to take baths. An elderly lady had
been
thrown down a staircase and was not expected to live. Further-
more,
they had received the SOS signal from several boats this
morning.
"Will
we go to help them?"
"They're
all behind us, sir, so we have to leave them to the
Mauretania.
If we tried to turn in this sea the portholes would be
smashed."
This
array of calamities minimized their own troubles. Having
eaten
a sort of luncheon and drunk the beer provided by Butter-
worth,
they dressed and went on deck.
Despite
the fact that it was only possible to progress step by step,
holding
on to rope or rail, more people were abroad than on the day
before.
Fear had driven them from their cabins, where the trunks
bumped
and the waves pounded the portholes and they awaited
momentarily
the call to the boats. Indeed, as Adrian and Eva stood
on
the transverse deck above the second class, there was a bugle call,
followed
by a gathering of stewards and stewardesses on the deck
below.
But the boat was sound ; it had outlasted one of its cargo
Steward
James Carton was being buried at sea.
It
was very British and sad. There were the rows of stiff, dis-
ciplined
men and women standing in the driving rain, and there was
a
shape covered by the flag of the Empire that lived by the sea. The
chief
purser read the service, a hymn was sung, the body slid off into
the
hurricane. With Eva's burst of wild weeping for this humble end,
some
last string snapped within her. Now she really didn't care. She
responded
eagerly when Butterworth suggested that he get some
champagne
to their cabin. Her mood worried Adrian ; she wasn't used
to
so much drinking and he wondered what he ought to do. At his
suggestion
that they sleep instead, she merely laughed, and the
bromide
the doctor had sent stood untouched on the washstand. Pre-
tending
to listen to the insipidities of several Mr. Stacombs, he
watched
her ; to his surprise and discomfort she seemed on intimate
and
even sentimental terms with Butterworth, and he wondered if
this
was a form of revenge for his attention to Betsy D'Amido.
The
cabin was full of smoke, the voices went on incessantly, the
suspension
of activity, the waiting for the storm's end, was getting
on
his nerves. They had been at sea only four days ; it was like a
year.
The
two Mr. Stacombs left finally, but Butterworth remained. Eva
was
urging him to go for another bottle of champagne.
"We've
had enough," objected Adrian. "We ought to go to bed."
"I
won't go to bed!" she burst out. "You must be crazy! You
play
around all you want, and then, when I find somebody I I like,
you
want to put me to bed."
"You're
hysterical."
"On
the contrary, I've never been so sane."
"I
think you'd better leave us, Butterworth," Adrian said. "Eva
doesn't
know what she's saying."
"He
won't go. I won't let him go." She clasped Butterworth's
hand
passionately. "He's the only person that's been half decent to
me."
"You'd
better go, Butterworth," repeated Adrian.
The
young man looked at him uncertainly.
"It
seems to me you're being unjust to your wife," he ventured.
"My
wife isn't herself."
"That's
no reason for bullying her."
Adrian
lost his temper. "You get out of here ! " he cried.
The
two men looked at each other for a moment in silence. Then
Butterworth
turned to Eva, said, "I'll be back later," and left the
cabin.
"Eva,
youVe got to pull yourself together," said Adrian when the
door
closed.
She
didn't answer, looked at him from sullen, half-closed eyes.
"I'll
order dinner here for us both and then we'll try to get some
sleep."
"I
want to go up and send a wireless."
"Who
to?"
"Some
Paris lawyer. I want a divorce."
In
spite of his annoyance, he laughed. "Don't be silly."
"Then
I want to see the children."
"Well,
go and see them. I'll order dinner."
He
waited for her in the cabin twenty minutes. Then impatiently
he
opened the door across the corridor ; the nurse told him that Mrs.
Smith
had not been there.
With
a sudden prescience of disaster he ran upstairs, glanced in
the
bar, the salons, even knocked at Butterworth's door. Then a
quick
round of the decks, feeling his way through the black spray
and
rain. A sailor stopped him at a network of ropes.
"Orders
are no one goes by, sir. A wave has gone over the wireless
room."
"Have
you seen a lady?"
"There
was a young lady here " He stopped and glanced
tround.
"Hello, she's gone."
"She
went up the stairs ! " Adrian said anxiously. "Up to the wire-
less
room ! "
The
sailor ran up to the boat deck ; stumbling and slipping, Adrian
followed.
As he cleared the protected sides of the companionway, a
tremendous
body struck the boat a staggering blow and, as she keeled
over
to an angle of forty-five degrees, he was thrown in a helpless
roll
down the drenched deck, to bring up dizzy and bruised against a
stanchion.
"Eva!"
he called. His voice was soundless in the black storm.
Against
the faint light of the wireless-room window he saw the sailor
making
his way forward.
"Eva!"
The
wind blew him like a sail up against a lifeboat. Then there
was
another shuddering crash, and high over his head, over the very
boat,
he saw a gigantic, glittering white wave, and in the split second
that
it balanced there he became conscious of Eva, standing beside
a
ventilator twenty feet away. Pushing out from the stanchion, he
lunged
desperately toward her, just as the wave broke with a
smashing
roar. For a moment the rushing water was five feet deep,
sweeping
with enormous force toward the side, and then a human
body
was washed against him, and frantically he clutched it and was
swept
with it back toward the rail. He felt his body bump against it,
but
desperately he held on to his burden ; then, as the ship rocked
slowly
back, the two of them, still joined by his fierce grip, were
rolled
out exhausted on the wet planks. For a moment he knew no
more.
IV
Two
days later, as the boat train moved tranquilly south toward
Paris,
Adrian tried to persuade his children to look out the window
at
the Norman countryside.
"It's
beautiful," he assured them. "All the little farms like toys.
Why,
in heaven's name, won't you look?"
"I
like the boat better," said Estelle.
Her
parents exchanged an infanticidal glance.
"The
boat is still rocking for me," Eva said with a shiver. "Is it
for
you ?"
"No.
Somehow, it all seems a long way off. Even the passengers
looked
unfamiliar going through the customs."
"Most
of them hadn't appeared above ground before."
He
hesitated. "By the way, I cashed Butterworth's check for him."
"You're
a fool. You'll never see the money again."
"He
must have needed it pretty badly or he would not have come
to
me."
A
pale and wan girl, passing along the corridor, recognized them
and
put her head through the doorway.
"How
do you feel?"
"Awful."
"Me,
too," agreed Miss D'Amido. "I'm vainly hoping my fiance
will
recognize me at the Gare du Nord. Do you know two waves went
over
the wireless room?"
"So
we heard," Adrian answered dryly.
She
passed gracefully along the corridor and out of their life.
"The
real truth is that none of it happened," said Adrian after a
moment.
"It was a nightmare an incredibly awful nightmare."
"Then,
where are my pearls?"
"Darling,
there are better pearls in Paris. I'll take the respon-
sibility
for those pearls. My real belief is that you saved the boat."
"Adrian,
let's never get to know anyone else, but just stay together
always
just we two."
He
tucked her arm under his and they sat close. "Who do you
suppose
those Adrian Smiths on the boat were?" he demanded. "It
certainly
wasn't me."
"Nor
me."
"It
was two other people," he said, nodding to himself. "There are
so
many Smiths in this world."