The After House | Page 7

wardrobe as was worth
saving, McWhirter took charge of. I sold the remainder of my books,
and in a sailor's outfitting-shop I purchased boots and slickers - the
sailors' oil skins. With my last money I bought a good revolver,
second-hand, and cartridges. I was glad later that I had bought the
revolver, and that I had taken with me the surgical instruments,
antiquated as they were, which, in their mahogany case, had
accompanied my grandfather through the Civil War, and had done, as
he was wont to chuckle, as much damage as a three-pounder.
McWhirter came to the wharf with me, and looked the Ella over with
eyes of proprietorship.
"Pretty snappy-looking boat," he said. "If the nigger gets sick, give him
some of my seasick remedy. And take care of yourself, boy." He shook
hands, his open face flushed with emotion. "Darned shame to see you
going like this. Don't eat too much, and don't fall in love with any of
the women. Good-bye."
He started away, and I turned toward the ship; but a moment later I
heard him calling me. He came back, rather breathless.
"Up in my neighborhood," he panted, "they say Turner is a devil.
Whatever happens, it's not your mix-in. Better - better tuck your gun
under your mattress and forget you've got it. You've got some
disposition yourself."
The Ella sailed the following day at ten o'clock. She carried nineteen
people, of whom five were the Turners and their guests. The cabin was
full of flowers and steamer-baskets.
Thirty-one days later she came into port again, a lifeboat covered with
canvas trailing at her stern.

CHAPTER III
I UNCLENCH MY HANDS
From the first the captain disclaimed responsibility for me. I was
housed in the forecastle, and ate with the men. There, however, my
connection with the crew and the navigation of the ship ended. Perhaps
it was as well, although I resented it at first. I was weaker than I had
thought, and dizzy at the mere thought of going aloft.
As a matter of fact, I found myself a sort of deck-steward, given the
responsibility of looking after the shuffle-board and other deck games,
the steamer-rugs, the cards, - for they played bridge steadily, - and
answerable to George Williams, the colored butler, for the various
liquors served on deck.
The work was easy, and the situation rather amused me. After an effort
or two to bully me, one of which resulted in my holding him over the
rail until he turned gray with fright, Williams treated me as an equal,
which was gratifying.
The weather was good, the food fair. I had no reason to repent my
bargain. Of the sailing qualities of the Ella there could be no question.
The crew, selected by Captain Richardson from the best men of the
Turner line, knew their business, and, especially after the Williams
incident, made me one of themselves. Barring the odor of
formaldehyde in the forecastle, which drove me to sleeping on deck for
a night or two, everything was going smoothly, at least on the surface.
Smoothly as far as the crew was concerned. I was not so sure about the
after house.
As I have said, owing to the small size, of the vessel, and the fact that
considerable of the space had been used for baths, there were, besides
the family, only two guests, a Mrs. Johns, a divorcee, and a Mr. Vail.
Mrs. Turner and Miss Lee shared the services of a maid, Karen Hansen,
who, with a stewardess, Henrietta Sloane, occupied a double cabin.
Vail had a small room, as had Turner, with a bath between which they

used in common. Mrs. Turner's room was a large one, with its own bath,
into which Elsa Lee's room also opened. Mrs. Johns had a room and
bath. Roughly, and not drawn to scale, the living quarters of the family
were arranged like the diagram in chapter XIX.
I have said that things were not going smoothly in the after house. I felt
it rather than, saw it. The women rose late - except Miss Lee, who was
frequently about when I washed the deck. They chatted and laughed
together, read, played bridge when the men were so inclined, and now
and then, when their attention was drawn to it, looked at the sea. They
were always exquisitely and carefully dressed, and I looked at them as I
would at any other masterpieces of creative art, with nothing of
covetousness in my admiration.
The men were violently opposed types Turner, tall, heavy-shouldered,
morose by habit, with a prominent nose and rapidly thinning hair, and
with strong, pale blue eyes, congested from hard drinking; Vail, shorter
by three inches, dark, good-looking, with that dusky flush under the
skin which