The Mutiny of the Elsinore | Page 6

the wind caused by our speed had chilled me bitterly, I
noticed Miss West coming along the narrow deck, and could not avoid
being struck by the spring and vitality of her walk. Her face, despite its
firm moulding, had a suggestion of fragility that was belied by the
robustness of her body. At least, one would argue that her body must be
robust from her fashion of movement of it, though little could one
divine the lines of it under the shapelessness of the furs.
I turned away on my heel and fell moodily to contemplating the
mountain of luggage. A huge packing-case attracted my attention, and I
was staring at it when she spoke at my shoulder.
"That's what really caused the delay," she said.

"What is it?" I asked incuriously.
"Why, the Elsinore's piano, all renovated. When I made up my mind to
come, I telegraphed Mr. Pike--he's the mate, you know. He did his best.
It was the fault of the piano house. And while we waited to- day I gave
them a piece of my mind they'll not forget in a hurry."
She laughed at the recollection, and commenced to peep and peer into
the luggage as if in search of some particular piece. Having satisfied
herself, she was starting back, when she paused and said:
"Won't you come into the cabin where it's warm? We won't be there for
half an hour."
"When did you decide to make this voyage?" I demanded abruptly.
So quick was the look she gave me that I knew she had in that moment
caught all my disgruntlement and disgust.
"Two days ago," she answered. "Why?"
Her readiness for give and take took me aback, and before I could
speak she went on:
"Now you're not to be at all silly about my coming, Mr. Pathurst. I
probably know more about long-voyaging than you do, and we're all
going to be comfortable and happy. You can't bother me, and I promise
you I won't bother you. I've sailed with passengers before, and I've
learned to put up with more than they ever proved they were able to put
up with. So there. Let us start right, and it won't be any trouble to keep
on going right. I know what is the matter with you. You think you'll be
called upon to entertain me. Please know that I do not need
entertainment. I never saw the longest voyage that was too long, and I
always arrive at the end with too many things not done for the passage
ever to have been tedious, and . . . I don't play Chopsticks."
CHAPTER II

The Elsinore, fresh-loaded with coal, lay very deep in the water when
we came alongside. I knew too little about ships to be capable of
admiring her lines, and, besides, I was in no mood for admiration. I was
still debating with myself whether or not to chuck the whole thing and
return on the tug. From all of which it must not be taken that I am a
vacillating type of man. On the contrary.
The trouble was that at no time, from the first thought of it, had I been
keen for the voyage. Practically the reason I was taking it was because
there was nothing else I was keen on. For some time now life had lost
its savour. I was not jaded, nor was I exactly bored. But the zest had
gone out of things. I had lost taste for my fellow-men and all their
foolish, little, serious endeavours. For a far longer period I had been
dissatisfied with women. I had endured them, but I had been too
analytic of the faults of their primitiveness, of their almost ferocious
devotion to the destiny of sex, to be enchanted with them. And I had
come to be oppressed by what seemed to me the futility of art--a
pompous legerdemain, a consummate charlatanry that deceived not
only its devotees but its practitioners.
In short, I was embarking on the Elsinore because it was easier to than
not; yet everything else was as equally and perilously easy. That was
the curse of the condition into which I had fallen. That was why, as I
stepped upon the deck of the Elsinore, I was half of a mind to tell them
to keep my luggage where it was and bid Captain West and his
daughter good-day.
I almost think what decided me was the welcoming, hospitable smile
Miss West gave me as she started directly across the deck for the cabin,
and the knowledge that it must be quite warm in the cabin.
Mr. Pike, the mate, I had already met, when I visited the ship in Erie
Basin. He smiled a stiff, crack-faced smile that I