The Upper Berth | Page 3

of luxury to the mind of a
North-American Indian; there were the usual inefficient racks of brown
wood, in which it is more easy to hang a large-sized umbrella than the
common tooth-brush of commerce. Upon the uninviting mattresses
were carefully folded together those blankets which a great modern
humorist has aptly compared to cold buckwheat cakes. The question of
towels was left entirely to the imagination. The glass decanters were
filled with a transparent liquid faintly tinged with brown, but from
which an odor less faint, but not more pleasing, ascended to the nostrils,
like a far-off sea-sick reminiscence of oily machinery. Sad-coloured
curtains half-closed the upper berth. The hazy June daylight shed a
faint illumination upon the desolate little scene. Ugh! how I hate that
state-room!

The steward deposited my traps and looked at me, as though he wanted
to get away--probably in search of more passengers and more fees. It is
always a good plan to start in favour with those functionaries, and I
accordingly gave him certain coins there and then.
"I'll try and make yer comfortable all I can," he remarked, as he put the
coins in his pocket. Nevertheless, there was a doubtful intonation in his
voice which surprised me. Possibly his scale of fees had gone up, and
he was not satisfied; but on the whole I was inclined to think that, as he
himself would have expressed it, he was "the better for a glass." I was
wrong, however, and did the man injustice.

II.
Nothing especially worthy of mention occurred during that day. We left
the pier punctually, and it was very pleasant to be fairly under way, for
the weather was warm and sultry, and the motion of the steamer
produced a refreshing breeze. Everybody knows what the first day at
sea is like. People pace the decks and stare at each other, and
occasionally meet acquaintances whom they did not know to be on
board. There is the usual uncertainty as to whether the food will be
good, bad, or indifferent, until the first two meals have put the matter
beyond a doubt; there is the usual uncertainty about the weather, until
the ship is fairly off Fire Island. The tables are crowded at first, and
then suddenly thinned. Pale-faced people spring from their seats and
precipitate themselves towards the door, and each old sailor breathes
more freely as his sea-sick neighbour rushes from his side, leaving him
plenty of elbow room and an unlimited command over the mustard.
One passage across the Atlantic is very much like another, and we who
cross very often do not make the voyage for the sake of novelty.
Whales and icebergs are indeed always objects of interest, but, after all,
one whale is very much like another whale, and one rarely sees an
iceberg at close quarters. To the majority of us the most delightful
moment of the day on board an ocean steamer is when we have taken
our last turn on deck, have smoked our last cigar, and having succeeded

in tiring ourselves, feel at liberty to turn in with a clear conscience. On
that first night of the voyage I felt particularly lazy, and went to bed in
one hundred and five rather earlier than I usually do. As I turned in, I
was amazed to see that I was to have a companion. A portmanteau,
very like my own, lay in the opposite corner, and in the upper berth had
been deposited a neatly folded rug with a stick and umbrella. I had
hoped to be alone, and I was disappointed; but I wondered who my
room-mate was to be, and I determined to have a look at him.
Before I had been long in bed he entered. He was, as far as I could see,
a very tall man, very thin, very pale, with sandy hair and whiskers and
colourless grey eyes. He had about him, I thought, an air of rather
dubious fashion; the sort of man you might see in Wall Street, without
being able precisely to say what he was doing there--the sort of man
who frequents the Café Anglais, who always seems to be alone and
who drinks champagne; you might meet him on a race-course, but he
would never appear to be doing anything there either. A little
over-dressed--a little odd. There are three or four of his kind on every
ocean steamer. I made up my mind that I did not care to make his
acquaintance, and I went to sleep saying to myself that I would study
his habits in order to avoid him. If he rose early, I would rise late; if he
went to bed late, I would go to bed early. I did not care to know him.