he said. “Do you? It’s like handing a gun to a guy in a fistfight. You can’t do that and then say we’re neutral. We’re in this already. I say we should stand out front, not in the background.”
“Well,” said John thoughtfully. “I’m not sure at all I want to stand in front.”
Bellstock has raised an eyebrow. “That so?” he asked. “I’d do it in a minute. Got to do it, like it or not.”
John had thought about it for a few days. Then, at breakfast in the first week of April, he had broached the subject with his parents.
His mother had blanched and laid down her knife and fork. “You are not going to France,” she said.
“As an observer for Bellstock’s newspaper.”
“No,” she said firmly.
He had looked at his father. Oscar Gould had pushed himself away from the table. “I guess that damn traveling bug is rearing its head again,” he sighed. “I told you when thirty came, I wanted you here.”
“I’ve been here,” John had replied equably. “But I’m not thirty till August.”
Gradually, the two smiled at each other.
“Keep yourself way behind the lines,” his father warned.
“I’ve no desire to get a bullet,” John replied. “They sure must spoil the cut of a good suit.”
At the other end of the table, John’s mother had exclaimed in exasperation, thrown her napkin at them, and missed by a mile.
* * *
H e opened his eyes now, and looked around him.
Outside, he could see the coal elevators on the wharf; theirs was a constant drumming, lifting five thousand tons of coal into the ship. All around him the passengers milled, some carrying today’s newspapers. He could see that a few conversations were going on even in the ticket line, and, at that very moment, a lovely woman ahead of him turned around. She was with another man who was talking to a porter. “My goodness,” she said anxiously. “Do you think there’s anything in it?”
He touched his hat. “In what, precisely?”
“All this talk of the Germans trying to sink us.”
He smiled at her; she was very charming in her dove-grey costume. Under the broad brim of her hat, she shyly smiled back. Her husband turned around. “This is Robert,” she said.
John shook hands with the man. “Annie here is worrying,” her husband said, grinning. “But how can you sink a ship that can outrun any submarine on earth?”
“You can’t,” John replied. He’d heard the rumors, and he had read the newspaper.
“But the warning they printed today,” Annie murmured.
Robert Matthews had a copy of the very page in his hand, John saw. There was a boxed item halfway down the page among the advertisements for Cunard shipping.
Notice!
it was headed in bold type.
Travelers intending to embark on the Atlantic voyage are reminded that a state of war exists between Germany and her allies. . . .
It was signed
Imperial German Embassy
at the bottom.
“Read it all the way down,” Robert gently encouraged. “Vessels flying the flag of Great Britain or any of her allies are liable to destruction. . . .”
“You see!” Annie exclaimed.
“But we don’t fall into that category. We’re not an ally,” John told her. “And she’s not flying a British flag, is she? I don’t see one at any rate.”
“Precisely,” Robert agreed. He smiled at John. “Just an attempt to get us all rattled,” he said. “Their U-boats can’t outrun us. And how could you smuggle anything onto the ship with the secret service around?”
He nodded in the direction of two men who were mingling with the Cunard clerks.
“Is that who they are?” Annie whispered.
“Looking for suspicious persons.”
Annie, at last, began to smile. “Then you’re not safe, darling.” And the couple laughed.
He laughed with them. He hoped the woman felt better, for he really believed what he had told her. He wondered if, at any time during this voyage, he would be able to say to her, “Look, this ship won’t sink. You know why?
“Well,” said John thoughtfully. “I’m not sure at all I want to stand in front.”
Bellstock has raised an eyebrow. “That so?” he asked. “I’d do it in a minute. Got to do it, like it or not.”
John had thought about it for a few days. Then, at breakfast in the first week of April, he had broached the subject with his parents.
His mother had blanched and laid down her knife and fork. “You are not going to France,” she said.
“As an observer for Bellstock’s newspaper.”
“No,” she said firmly.
He had looked at his father. Oscar Gould had pushed himself away from the table. “I guess that damn traveling bug is rearing its head again,” he sighed. “I told you when thirty came, I wanted you here.”
“I’ve been here,” John had replied equably. “But I’m not thirty till August.”
Gradually, the two smiled at each other.
“Keep yourself way behind the lines,” his father warned.
“I’ve no desire to get a bullet,” John replied. “They sure must spoil the cut of a good suit.”
At the other end of the table, John’s mother had exclaimed in exasperation, thrown her napkin at them, and missed by a mile.
* * *
H e opened his eyes now, and looked around him.
Outside, he could see the coal elevators on the wharf; theirs was a constant drumming, lifting five thousand tons of coal into the ship. All around him the passengers milled, some carrying today’s newspapers. He could see that a few conversations were going on even in the ticket line, and, at that very moment, a lovely woman ahead of him turned around. She was with another man who was talking to a porter. “My goodness,” she said anxiously. “Do you think there’s anything in it?”
He touched his hat. “In what, precisely?”
“All this talk of the Germans trying to sink us.”
He smiled at her; she was very charming in her dove-grey costume. Under the broad brim of her hat, she shyly smiled back. Her husband turned around. “This is Robert,” she said.
John shook hands with the man. “Annie here is worrying,” her husband said, grinning. “But how can you sink a ship that can outrun any submarine on earth?”
“You can’t,” John replied. He’d heard the rumors, and he had read the newspaper.
“But the warning they printed today,” Annie murmured.
Robert Matthews had a copy of the very page in his hand, John saw. There was a boxed item halfway down the page among the advertisements for Cunard shipping.
Notice!
it was headed in bold type.
Travelers intending to embark on the Atlantic voyage are reminded that a state of war exists between Germany and her allies. . . .
It was signed
Imperial German Embassy
at the bottom.
“Read it all the way down,” Robert gently encouraged. “Vessels flying the flag of Great Britain or any of her allies are liable to destruction. . . .”
“You see!” Annie exclaimed.
“But we don’t fall into that category. We’re not an ally,” John told her. “And she’s not flying a British flag, is she? I don’t see one at any rate.”
“Precisely,” Robert agreed. He smiled at John. “Just an attempt to get us all rattled,” he said. “Their U-boats can’t outrun us. And how could you smuggle anything onto the ship with the secret service around?”
He nodded in the direction of two men who were mingling with the Cunard clerks.
“Is that who they are?” Annie whispered.
“Looking for suspicious persons.”
Annie, at last, began to smile. “Then you’re not safe, darling.” And the couple laughed.
He laughed with them. He hoped the woman felt better, for he really believed what he had told her. He wondered if, at any time during this voyage, he would be able to say to her, “Look, this ship won’t sink. You know why?
Similar Books
