he said, “Amen,” at last, they straightened and there was a general shuffling of feet. Lind stepped to the bulwark and looked down. He turned and nodded to the captain. The Leander was stopped.
Lind and the bos’n positioned themselves at opposite corners of the door where it rested on the horse. Captain Steen stood before it, opened the Bible, and began to read the sea burial service.
“Man that is born of woman hath but a short time to live and is full of misery; he cometh up and is cut down like a flower; he fleeth as if he were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay. For as much as it hath pleased the Almighty God in His great mercy to take unto Himself the soul of our dear brother here departed: we therefore commit his body to the deep.”
With the last words, Lind and the bos’n raised the end of the door, holding the upper edge of the Union Jack clamped against it. The weighted burial sack slid from under the flag and dropped over the bulwark into the sea. It splashed below them. Goddard looked down. The top of the sack was ballooned with the air trapped inside it, and it sank slowly at first, trailing bubbles, as it began its long slide into the abyss. He followed it moodily, being very careful not to think of Gerry’s funeral five months ago, and considered that Egerton would have liked it. “Good show; didn’t drag on with a lot of silly eulogies and bore the chaps, what?”
It began to fade from view. There was another growling reverberation of thunder along the horizon, and Lind turned and signed to the captain. It was well below the propeller now. Captain Steen spoke to one of the crew. “Tell Mr. VanDoorn he can get under way.” Goddard looked around at Karen Brooke and Madeleine Lennox. They both had tears in their eyes.
Dinner began quietly. Goddard had had three martinis but could get no lift from them at all. Depression weighed on everybody except possibly Lind, and even he was less than his usual vital self. The weather did little to improve their mood, Goddard thought. They still hadn’t run into a squall, but the stillness and the muggy, oppressive heat continued. The typewritten menu was as limp as a piece of cheesecloth, and cigarettes, ten minutes after a pack was opened, were almost too damp to burn. Both fans whirred at full speed in the dining room, circulating air that was already too saturated with moisture to have any cooling effect at all.
“One more day and we should be out of this,” Lind said. “When we pick up the trades we’ll be all right.” He turned to Goddard. “Must drive you crazy, trying to get across it under sail.”
Goddard grinned. “The secret of it is don’t eat grapefruit.”
Even Lind looked mystified. Then Karen Brooke said, “All right, I’ll be the goat. Why?”
“The rinds float,” Goddard said. “It does something to you when you can throw today’s overboard and hit yesterday’s with it.”
The wireless operator came in. He handed Captain Steen a message. “I just got this from KPH in California. Manila’s calling us too, but I think it may be the same message.”
“Thanks, Sparks.” Captain Steen tore it open, read it, and stood up abruptly. “If you’ll excuse us. Mr. Lind, will you come up to my office?”
They hurried out, followed by the wireless operator. Goddard and the two women looked at each other, puzzled and vaguely uneasy, and Madeleine Lennox asked, “What on earth could that be?”
“Nothing serious,” Goddard said. “My check bounced, and they’re going to bill Mrs. Brooke for my passage.”
“That’s the code of the sea?”
“It’s invariable. Harsh, I’ll admit, but the sea demands it. Well, I always wanted to be the pampered plaything of a beautiful woman.”
“I should warn you then,” Karen said, “that my standard contract with pampered playthings has a clause they have to address me by my first name.”
It was no use; the banter fell flat. It was too hot to eat, the place weighed on
Lind and the bos’n positioned themselves at opposite corners of the door where it rested on the horse. Captain Steen stood before it, opened the Bible, and began to read the sea burial service.
“Man that is born of woman hath but a short time to live and is full of misery; he cometh up and is cut down like a flower; he fleeth as if he were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay. For as much as it hath pleased the Almighty God in His great mercy to take unto Himself the soul of our dear brother here departed: we therefore commit his body to the deep.”
With the last words, Lind and the bos’n raised the end of the door, holding the upper edge of the Union Jack clamped against it. The weighted burial sack slid from under the flag and dropped over the bulwark into the sea. It splashed below them. Goddard looked down. The top of the sack was ballooned with the air trapped inside it, and it sank slowly at first, trailing bubbles, as it began its long slide into the abyss. He followed it moodily, being very careful not to think of Gerry’s funeral five months ago, and considered that Egerton would have liked it. “Good show; didn’t drag on with a lot of silly eulogies and bore the chaps, what?”
It began to fade from view. There was another growling reverberation of thunder along the horizon, and Lind turned and signed to the captain. It was well below the propeller now. Captain Steen spoke to one of the crew. “Tell Mr. VanDoorn he can get under way.” Goddard looked around at Karen Brooke and Madeleine Lennox. They both had tears in their eyes.
Dinner began quietly. Goddard had had three martinis but could get no lift from them at all. Depression weighed on everybody except possibly Lind, and even he was less than his usual vital self. The weather did little to improve their mood, Goddard thought. They still hadn’t run into a squall, but the stillness and the muggy, oppressive heat continued. The typewritten menu was as limp as a piece of cheesecloth, and cigarettes, ten minutes after a pack was opened, were almost too damp to burn. Both fans whirred at full speed in the dining room, circulating air that was already too saturated with moisture to have any cooling effect at all.
“One more day and we should be out of this,” Lind said. “When we pick up the trades we’ll be all right.” He turned to Goddard. “Must drive you crazy, trying to get across it under sail.”
Goddard grinned. “The secret of it is don’t eat grapefruit.”
Even Lind looked mystified. Then Karen Brooke said, “All right, I’ll be the goat. Why?”
“The rinds float,” Goddard said. “It does something to you when you can throw today’s overboard and hit yesterday’s with it.”
The wireless operator came in. He handed Captain Steen a message. “I just got this from KPH in California. Manila’s calling us too, but I think it may be the same message.”
“Thanks, Sparks.” Captain Steen tore it open, read it, and stood up abruptly. “If you’ll excuse us. Mr. Lind, will you come up to my office?”
They hurried out, followed by the wireless operator. Goddard and the two women looked at each other, puzzled and vaguely uneasy, and Madeleine Lennox asked, “What on earth could that be?”
“Nothing serious,” Goddard said. “My check bounced, and they’re going to bill Mrs. Brooke for my passage.”
“That’s the code of the sea?”
“It’s invariable. Harsh, I’ll admit, but the sea demands it. Well, I always wanted to be the pampered plaything of a beautiful woman.”
“I should warn you then,” Karen said, “that my standard contract with pampered playthings has a clause they have to address me by my first name.”
It was no use; the banter fell flat. It was too hot to eat, the place weighed on
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