The Shadow-Line Read Free Page B

finishing his tiffin there. The big double doors stood wide open permanently, and he could not have had any idea how near to the doorway our chairs were placed. He was heard in a loud, supercilious tone answering some statement ventured by the chief steward.
    â€œI am not going to be rushed into anything. They will be glad enough to get a gentleman I imagine. There is no hurry.”
    A loud whispering from the steward succeeded and then again Hamilton was heard with even intenser scorn.
    â€œWhat? That young ass who fancies himself for having been chief mate with Kent so long? . . . Preposterous.”
    Giles and I looked at each other. Kent being the name of my late commander, Captain Giles’s whisper, “He’s talking of you,” seemed to me sheer waste of breath. The chief steward must have stuck to his point, whatever it was, because Hamilton was heard again more supercilious if possible, and also very emphatic:
    â€œRubbish, my good man! One doesn’t
compete
with a rank outsider like that. There’s plenty of time.”
    Then there were pushing of chairs, footsteps in the next room, and plaintive expostulations from the steward, who was pursuing Hamilton, even out of doors through the main entrance.
    â€œThat’s a very insulting sort of man,” remarked Captain Giles—superfluously, I thought. “Very insulting. You haven’t offended him in some way, have you?”
    â€œNever spoke to him in my life,” I said grumpily. “Can’t imagine what he means by competing. He has been trying for my job after I left—and didn’t get it. But that isn’t exactly competition.”
    Captain Giles balanced his big benevolent head thoughtfully. “He didn’t get it,” he repeated very slowly. “No, not likely either, with Kent. Kent is no end sorry you left him. He gives you the name of a good seaman, too.”
    I flung away the paper I was still holding. I sat up, I slapped the table with my open palm. I wanted to know why he would keep harping on that, my absolutely private affair. It was exasperating, really.
    Captain Giles silenced me by the perfect equanimity of his gaze. “Nothing to be annoyed about,” he murmured reasonably, with an evident desire to soothe the childish irritation he had aroused. And he was really a man of an appearance so inoffensive that I tried to explain myself as much as I could. I told him that I did not want to hear any more about what was past and gone. It had been very nice while it lasted, but now it was done with I preferred not to talk about it or even think about it. I had made up my mind to go home.
    He listened to the whole tirade in a particular lending-the-ear attitude, as if trying to detect a false note in it somewhere; then straightened himself up and appeared to ponder sagaciously over the matter.
    â€œYes. You told me you meant to go home. Anything in view there?”
    Instead of telling him that it was none of his business I said sullenly:
    â€œNothing that I know of.”
    I had indeed considered that rather blank side of the situation I had created for myself by leaving suddenly my very satisfactory employment. And I was not very pleased with it. I had it on the tip of my tongue to say that common sense had nothing to do with my action, and that therefore it didn’t deserve the interest Captain Giles seemed to be taking in it. But he was puffing at a short wooden pipe now, and looked so guileless, dense, and commonplace, that it seemed hardly worthwhile to puzzle him either with truth or sarcasm.
    He blew a cloud of smoke, then surprised me by a very abrupt: “Paid your passage money yet?”
    Overcome by the shameless pertinacity of a man to whom it was rather difficult to be rude, I replied with exaggerated meekness that I had not done so yet. I thought there would be plenty of time to do that tomorrow.
    And I was about to turn away, withdrawing my privacy from his