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I

           Igotasleepingsuitoutofmyroomand,comingbackondeck,sawthenakedmanfromtheseasittingonthemainhatch,glimmeringwhiteinthedarkness,hiselbowsonhiskneesandhisheadinhishands.Inamomenthehadconcealedhisdampbodyinasleepingsuitofthesamegray-stripepatternastheoneIwaswearingandfollowedmelikemydoubleonthepoop.Togetherwemovedrightaft,barefooted,silent.

           “Whatisit?”Iaskedinadeadenedvoice,takingthelightedlampoutofthebinnacle,andraisingittohisface.

           “Anuglybusiness.”

           Hehadratherregularfeatures;agoodmouth;lighteyesundersomewhatheavy,darkeyebrows;asmooth,squareforehead;nogrowthonhischeeks;asmall,brownmustache,andawell-shaped,roundchin.Hisexpressionwasconcentrated,meditative,undertheinspectinglightofthelampIhelduptohisface;suchasamanthinkinghardinsolitudemightwear.Mysleepingsuitwasjustrightforhissize.Awell-knityoungfellowoftwenty-fiveatmost.Hecaughthislowerlipwiththeedgeofwhite,eventeeth.

           “Yes,”Isaid,replacingthelampinthebinnacle.Thewarm,heavytropicalnightcloseduponhisheadagain.

           “There’sashipoverthere,”hemurmured.

           “Yes,Iknow.TheSephora.Didyouknowofus?”

           “Hadn’ttheslightestidea.Iamthemateofher—”Hepausedandcorrectedhimself.“IshouldsayIwas.”

           “Aha!Somethingwrong?”

           “Yes.Verywrongindeed.I’vekilledaman.”

           “Whatdoyoumean?Justnow?”

           “No,onthepassage.Weeksago.Thirty-ninesouth.WhenIsayaman—”

           “Fitoftemper,”Isuggested,confidently.

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Roboto Lora
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