Таємний спільник
II
Thefourthdayout,Ithink(wewerethenworkingdowntheeastsideoftheGulfofSiam,tackfortack,inlightwindsandsmoothwater)—thefourthday,Isay,ofthismiserablejugglingwiththeunavoidable,aswesatatoureveningmeal,thatman,whoseslightestmovementIdreaded,afterputtingdownthedishesranupondeckbusily.Thiscouldnotbedangerous.Presentlyhecamedownagain;andthenitappearedthathehadrememberedacoatofminewhichIhadthrownoverarailtodryafterhavingbeenwettedinashowerwhichhadpassedovertheshipintheafternoon.SittingstolidlyattheheadofthetableIbecameterrifiedatthesightofthegarmentonhisarm.Ofcoursehemadeformydoor.Therewasnotimetolose.
“Steward,”Ithundered.MynervesweresoshakenthatIcouldnotgovernmyvoiceandconcealmyagitation.Thiswasthesortofthingthatmademyterrificallywhiskeredmatetaphisforeheadwithhisforefinger.Ihaddetectedhimusingthatgesturewhiletalkingondeckwithaconfidentialairtothecarpenter.Itwastoofartohearaword,butIhadnodoubtthatthispantomimecouldonlyrefertothestrangenewcaptain.
“Yes,sir,”thepale-facedstewardturnedresignedlytome.Itwasthismaddeningcourseofbeingshoutedat,checkedwithoutrhymeorreason,arbitrarilychasedoutofmycabin,suddenlycalledintoit,sentflyingoutofhispantryonincomprehensibleerrands,thataccountedforthegrowingwretchednessofhisexpression.
“Whereareyougoingwiththatcoat?”
“Toyourroom,sir.”
“Isthereanothershowercoming?”
“I’msureIdon’tknow,sir.
