The Upper Berth | Page 5

night and
leaves the door open."
Again the doctor glanced curiously at me. Then he lit the cigar and
looked grave.

"Did he come back?" he asked presently.
"Yes. I was asleep, but I waked up and heard him moving. Then I felt
cold and went to sleep again. This morning I found the porthole open."
"Look here," said the doctor, quietly, "I don't care much for this ship. I
don't care a rap for her reputation. I tell you what I will do. I have a
good-sized place up here. I will share it with you, though I don't know
you from Adam."
I was very much surprised at the proposition. I could not imagine why
he should take such a sudden interest in my welfare. However, his
manner as he spoke of the ship was peculiar.
"You are very good, doctor," I said. "But really, I believe even now the
cabin could be aired, or cleaned out, or something. Why do you not
care for the ship?"
"We are not superstitious in our profession, sir," replied the doctor.
"But the sea makes people so. I don't want to prejudice you, and I don't
want to frighten you, but if you will take my advice you will move in
here. I would as soon see you overboard," he added, "as know that you
or any other man was to sleep in one hundred and five."
"Good gracious! Why?" I asked.
"Just because on the last three trips the people who have slept there
actually have gone overboard," he answered, gravely.
The intelligence was startling and exceedingly unpleasant, I confess. I
looked hard at the doctor to see whether he was making game of me,
but he looked perfectly serious. I thanked him warmly for his offer, but
told him I intended to be the exception to the rule by which every one
who slept in that particular state-room went overboard. He did not say
much, but looked as grave as ever, and hinted that before we got across
I should probably reconsider his proposal. In the course of time we
went to breakfast, at which only an inconsiderable number of
passengers assembled. I noticed that one or two of the officers who

breakfasted with us looked grave. After breakfast I went into my
state-room in order to get a book. The curtains of the upper berth were
still closely drawn. Not a word was to be heard. My room-mate was
probably still asleep.
As I came out I met the steward whose business it was to look after me.
He whispered that the captain wanted to see me, and then scuttled away
down the passage as if very anxious to avoid any questions. I went
toward the captain's cabin, and found him waiting for me.
"Sir," said he, "I want to ask a favour of you."
I answered that I would do anything to oblige him.
"Your room-mate has disappeared," he said. "He is known to have
turned in early last night. Did you notice anything extraordinary in his
manner?"
The question coming, as it did, in exact confirmation of the fears the
doctor had expressed half an hour earlier, staggered me.
"You don't mean to say he has gone overboard?" I asked.
"I fear he has," answered the captain.
"This is the most extraordinary thing----" I began.
"Why?" he asked.
"He is the fourth, then?" I explained. In answer to another question
from the captain, I explained, without mentioning the doctor, that I had
heard the story concerning one hundred and five. He seemed very much
annoyed at hearing that I knew of it. I told him what had occurred in
the night.
"What you say," he replied, "coincides almost exactly with what was
told me by the room-mates of two of the other three. They bolt out of
bed and run down the passage. Two of them were seen to go overboard
by the watch; we stopped and lowered boats, but they were not found.

Nobody, however, saw or heard the man who was lost last night--if he
is really lost. The steward, who is a superstitious fellow, perhaps, and
expected something to go wrong, went to look for him this morning,
and found his berth empty, but his clothes lying about, just as he had
left them. The steward was the only man on board who knew him by
sight, and he has been searching everywhere for him. He has
disappeared! Now, sir, I want to beg you not to mention the
circumstance to any of the passengers; I don't want the ship to get a bad
name, and nothing hangs about an ocean-goer like stories of suicides.
You shall have your choice of any one of the officers' cabins you like,
including my own, for the rest of