Night Gallery 1 Read Free

said, after a pause, "perhaps you won't mind if I take a stab at an explanation."
    The man on the bed kept his eyes averted.
    "Perhaps you put that dress on," the Captain said, "to gain access to a lifeboat. Could that be it?"
    The survivor whispered. "I don't know."
    The Captain moved closer to the bed. "You don't know? Is that what you said? I think you do."
    The survivor's face seemed to shrivel, and he cringed, as though half-expecting a physical blow.
    The ship's doctor put a restraining hand on the Captain's arm and again warned him with a look.
    The Captain nodded, jammed his hands into his pockets, looked up toward the ceiling, then back down to the survivor on the bed. "We'll talk again later," he said. "Perhaps when you've rested, some of the answers that presently prove so elusive will manage to wriggle their way to the surface."
    He turned on his heel and walked out of the room.
    The ship's doctor looked from one to the other and was about to follow the Captain when the survivor painfully inched his way back to a partial sitting position. "Doctor," he called out hoarsely.
    The ship's doctor turned to him.
    "What year is it?"
    The ship's doctor frowned. "What year do you think it is?"
    The survivor lowered his head back down on the pillow. "It's 1912. Isn't it? Isn't it 1912?"
    The ship's doctor's voice was very soft. "Try to get some more sleep," he said. "There'll be someone in attendance at all times."
    He moved out into the passageway, closing the door behind him. The Captain was standing there. The ship's doctor tried to smile. "I should very much like to know what this is all about, Captain."
    The Captain looked toward the closed door. "And so should I. Obviously it's some kind of hoax. And obviously it's an outrageous one. And there's no doubt in my mind that he's been carefully coached."
    "Coached?" the ship's doctor asked.
    The Captain nodded. "And in spite of that—he supplied us a few pieces to the puzzle."
    The ship's doctor looked bewildered. "Like what?" he asked.
    " 'Fouled the iceberg,' That's what he said." The Captain pointed to the closed door. " 'Iceberg, a point on the starboard bow.' Doctor, that's a sailor talking. But in whose service? "
    Slowly, his shoulders hunched, the Captain started toward the stairway. The ship's doctor followed him. At the foot of the stairs the Captain stopped and looked straight ahead, deep in thought.
    The ship's doctor's voice was tentative. "I don't think I understand," he began.
    The Captain turned to him, his voice grim. "I'm wondering if it's possible your patient was put adrift for a very specific purpose."
    "Purpose? You've lost me, Captain."
    The Captain put one foot on the first rung of stairs. "To slow us down, man. To make us alter course. I know that sounds altogether incredible, doctor . . . but you know, there is a war on."
    He looked down the length of the passageway toward the Infirmary door, then turned and started a slow walk up the stairs, leaving the ship's doctor staring up at him.
    On the bulkhead wall a life preserver made a small sideward movement in a sudden swell. On it was stencilled, "The Lusitania."
    An infirmary attendant came out of the patient's room into the passageway just as the ship's doctor came down the stairs. The ship's bell rang eleven times. The attendant balanced a tray with two plates of untouched food. The ship's doctor noted it briefly. "Not eating?" he asked.
    The attendant shook his head. "Not a morsel, sir—which is odd, if you'll forgive me. Poor bloke's thin as a drainpipe. Hasn't got a pound of flesh on his bones. Looks to be proper starving is what he looks." He looked down at the tray. "Still—I couldn't get a cracker into him."
    The ship's doctor moved past him to the Infirmary door, opened it, and entered. A small orange night light sent darting shadows around the room. The ship's doctor approached the bed and leaned over.
    The survivor was awake, his eyes wide open.
    "No appetite, I'm told," the ship's