Falk | Page 9

hands together; I smiled and
bowed with a heavy heart: the niece got up from her sewing to bring Hermann's slippers
and his embroidered calotte, which he assumed pon- tifically, talking (about me) all the
time. Billows of white stuff lay between the chairs on the cabin floor; I caught the words
"Zwei und dreissig Pfund" repeated several times, and presently came the beer, which
seemed delicious to my throat, parched with running and the emotions of the chase.
I didn't get away till well past midnight, long after the women had retired. Hermann had
been trading in the East for three years or more, carry- ing freights of rice and timber
mostly. His ship was well known in all the ports from Vladivostok to Singapore. She was
his own property. The profits had been moderate, but the trade answered well enough
while the children were small yet. In an- other year or so he hoped he would be able to
sell the old Diana to a firm in Japan for a fair price. He intended to return home, to
Bremen, by mail boat, second class, with Mrs. Hermann and the children. He told me all
this stolidly, with slow puffs at his pipe. I was sorry when knocking the ashes out he
began to rub his eyes. I would have sat with him till morning. What had I to hurry on
board my own ship for? To face the broken rifled drawer in my state-room. Ugh! The
very thought made me feel unwell.
I became their daily guest, as you know. I think that Mrs. Hermann from the first looked
upon me as a romantic person. I did not, of course, tear my hair coram populo over my
loss, and she took it for lordly indifference. Afterwards, I daresay, I did tell them some of
my adventures--such as they were --and they marvelled greatly at the extent of my
experience. Hermann would translate what he thought the most striking passages. Getting
up on his legs, and as if delivering a lecture on a phenom- enon, he addressed himself,
with gestures, to the two women, who would let their sewing sink slowly on their laps.
Meantime I sat before a glass of Hermann's beer, trying to look modest. Mrs. Her- mann
would glance at me quickly, emit slight "Ach's!" The girl never made a sound. Never. But
she too would sometimes raise her pale eyes to look at me in her unseeing gentle way.
Her glance was by no means stupid; it beamed out soft and dif- fuse as the moon beams
upon a landscape--quite differently from the scrutinising inspection of the stars. You

were drowned in it, and imagined your- self to appear blurred. And yet this same glance
when turned upon Christian Falk must have been as efficient as the searchlight of a
battle-ship.
Falk was the other assiduous visitor on board, but from his behaviour he might have been
coming to see the quarter-deck capstan. He certainly used to stare at it a good deal when
keeping us company outside the cabin door, with one muscular arm thrown over the back
of the chair, and his big shapely legs, in very tight white trousers, extended far out and
ending in a pair of black shoes as roomy as punts. On arrival he would shake Her- mann's
hand with a mutter, bow to the women, and take up his careless and misanthropic attitude
by our side. He departed abruptly, with a jump, go- ing through the performance of grunts,
hand- shakes, bow, as if in a panic. Sometimes, with a sort of discreet and convulsive
effort, he approached the women and exchanged a few low words with them, half a dozen
at most. On these occasions Her- mann's usual stare became positively glassy and Mrs.
Hermann's kind countenance would colour up. The girl herself never turned a hair.
Falk was a Dane or perhaps a Norwegian, I can't tell now. At all events he was a
Scandinavian of some sort, and a bloated monopolist to boot. It is possible he was
unacquainted with the word, but he had a clear perception of the thing itself. His tariff of
charges for towing ships in and out was the most brutally inconsiderate document of the
sort I had ever seen. He was the commander and owner of the only tug-boat on the river,
a very trim white craft of 150 tons or more, as elegantly neat as a yacht, with a round
wheel-house rising like a glazed turret high above her sharp bows, and with one slen- der
varnished pole mast forward. I daresay there are yet a few shipmasters afloat who
remember Falk and his tug very well. He extracted his pound and a half of flesh from
each of