by Peggy Gaddis
The captain looked startled.
“Really? Is that what they think?” he marveled.
“It’s what I was told,” Claire assured him, laughing.
“Well, there’s not a word of truth in that statement,” protested the captain. “I enjoy the passengers very much — that is, some of them. We seem to have a pretty average crowd aboard this time. Curt tells me that there was some unpleasantness about a poker game the first night out.”
He was watching Claire with a curious intentness, and Claire’s head went up.
“Would you like to know the truth about that, Captain?” she asked quietly. “Is that why you asked me to lunch? To check up on the passengers?”
Captain Rodolfson’s eyes flashed with angry surprise.
“My dear young lady!” There was a snap in his voice. “I can assure you that any checking up on the passengers that may be required is well attended to by Curt and the steward, Carl.”
“I’m sorry,” said Claire briefly.
“And so am I, for your misunderstanding,” the Captain told her. “I merely happened to mention that we apparently had a card shark aboard, and that, of course, is something we simply will not allow. The man will be put ashore at a Caribbean port — ”
“Oh, no, you mustn’t do that! You’ll break his heart! Why, he’s been planning this trip, dreaming of it, saving for it for years!” Claire protested swiftly.
“His passage money will be refunded.”
“Oh, Captain, please! You mustn’t do that!” Claire was terribly in earnest. “It wasn’t the way you heard it at all. He’s not a card shark! He wasn’t playing crooked poker! Truly he wasn’t!”
Swiftly she launched into an account of the scene between MacEwen and the Major, and when she had finished, the captain studied her shrewdly.
“And you believe this man, this Major Lesley?” he asked.
Wide-eyed, Claire said, “Well, of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Oh, then you know him well?”
Color burned in Claire’s cheeks, but she met his eyes straightly.
“I never set eyes on him until I came aboard in Jacksonville,” she answered with spirit. “But in my profession, we do learn something about judging character. Everybody insists he’s a wonderful judge of character; but — well, I just know the Major was telling the truth. He wanted to give MacEwen back his money, and the only way MacEwen would accept it was for the Major to admit he won it dishonestly.”
The captain nodded thoughtfully, and there was a faint smile beneath his close-cropped gray mustache.
“That’s pretty much the way Curt had it figured out,” he admitted. “Oh, of course he didn’t know the reason behind the Major’s calm acceptance of MacEwen’s accusation. But he felt pretty sure that the Major just wanted to get out of any more card playing! Curt’s a pretty smart fellow, and I was inclined to believe his summing up of the situation. But now you make it even more clear. I have another reason for being grateful to you, Miss Frazier.”
“Well thanks for believing me,” Claire said awkwardly.
The cabin boy served her dessert, a delectable apple pie with a thin slice of tangy cheese. To the captain he presented a small saucer which held two white tablets and a glass of milky-looking liquid.
“I’m under strict orders to drop twenty-five pounds on this trip,” the captain explained, eying the pills and the liquid with a humorously resigned eye. “I’m trying very hard to hang on for another year or two until Curt gets his master’s license and can take over for me.”
“Oh, is he going to become captain of the Highland Queen?”
“We are both planning on it. He has a few more months to go before his master’s license, and then he has been promised my job,” the captain answered.
“And what will you do then?” asked Claire, genuinely interested.
“Oh, don’t you know what every retired ship captain looks forward to, Miss Frazier? Retiring to the country and starting a chicken farm.”
“You won’t like it,” Claire warned him.
“I don’t suppose so.” He grinned at her. “But a man can’t keep going to sea all his life. I’ve just about done that. And it’s time to stand aside and let a younger man take over. I know Curt will do a fine job. Don’t you think so, Miss Frazier?”
“Oh, I’m sure he will,” Claire answered almost too hastily. “He is very popular with the passengers.”
“And with the shippers with whom we do business,” the captain nodded. “My only fear is that he’ll fall in love with some little flibbertigibbet who won’t want to go to sea with him, as my Martha did. If that happens — ”
“Well, frankly, Captain, it’s not the sort of life that would appeal to every woman,” Claire pointed out.
“I know.” He nodded above his pipe. “Women like to put out roots, settle down, raise a family, give them security. That’s natural enough, of course. But — well, I hope when Curt falls it will be for some woman with an adventurous spirit, who can make a home for him aboard ship as my Martha did for me.”
Claire nodded soberly, caught in spite of herself by the tide of memories that were sweeping over him.
“If a woman is truly in love with a man, Captain, she wants to do what he wants, live the way he wants to live, because since he will be the breadwinner, it’s her responsibility to go along — ” She broke off and laughed at herself ruefully. “I don’t quite know why I’m talking like this. How would I know what a woman truly in love would want?”
“You’re a woman,” the captain pointed out, smiling.
“Well, yes, but not an expert on love, by several million light years,” she assured him, and stood up. “I’ve enjoyed this very much, Captain. Thank you for having me.”
He rose too and walked with her to the door, smiling down at her.
“It’s been my pleasure, Miss Frazier! Thank you for it.”
He held the door for her. She smiled up at him and stepped out into the companionway as the door closed behind her.
She stood for a moment looking at the closed door, thinking of the big, grizzled, gentle man who had faced and accepted the loss of a beloved wife with such courage and fortitude. She thought of Rick, and the cowardly way she had run away from the hospital, unwilling to face the loving sympathy of her friends. At that moment, she wasn’t liking herself very well!
She walked out on the deck, drenched with golden sunshine, and around to the deck chairs where she had been spending most of her afternoon hours. But even as she reached the corner behind which they sat, she heard the voices of Mrs. Burke and Mrs. Hennessy and turned away. She didn’t want to get involved in their chatter, she told herself, and turned once more along the deck.
As she passed the companionway door, Curt stepped out into the sunshine, almost colliding with her, and stopped, drawing back, a smile on his face, his eyes eager.
“I understand you lunched with the captain.” He smiled at her. “Great old boy, isn’t he?”
Claire looked up at him.
“You two seem to have formed a mutual admiration society,” she mocked. “He seems to think quite well of you, too.”
As though somewhat surprised as well as obviously pleased by her lack of hostility, Curt said eagerly, “I hope so. I have a tremendous admiration for him.”
“He told me about losing his wife,” said Claire quietly. “She must have been a wonderful woman, to be willing to go to sea with him like that.”
“I’ve only worked with him for the last twelve years, so I never met his wife,” Curt answered, and for a moment they stood side by side, looking out over the sea as the ship plodded steadily on her way. “I imagine it would take a most unusual woman to be willing to sail with her husband like that.”
“I imagine she would just have to be very much in love with him, don’t you?” asked Claire slowly. And then realizing the intimacy of that, she added hurriedly, “I didn’t know that ship’s captains were allowed to take their wives aboard
with them.”
“It’s a very old custom aboard freighters and tramp steamers,” Curt told her thoughtfully. “I imagine it dates back to the days of the Yankee Clippers, when a captain might be gone from home for years at a time.”
“I always had a mental picture of the wives of Clipper captains pacing the beach waiting for word their husbands’ ships had been sighted,” Claire admitted.
“If there were children to be schooled and brought up, perhaps the wives felt they were needed more at home,” he agreed as though the subject had an unusual interest for him. “Life aboard ship can be very pleasant, even for a captain’s wife; that is, of course, if she wants to make it so.”
Suddenly he straightened and his eyes widened.
“Well, what do you know?” he marveled softly.
Puzzled, Claire looked a question at him, and suddenly he grinned, that small-boy grin that added to his charm.
“You and I are standing here talking, without verbal daggers flashing between us! Why, you are almost friendly! I can’t believe it!” He frankly admitted his amazement, and Claire had the grace to blush.
“I have been a bit unpleasant, haven’t I?” she agreed reluctantly.
“You have indeed,” he assured her firmly.
She stared at him for a moment, scarlet and embarrassed.
“I’m sorry,” she said miserably. “I — well, I am sorry — ”
“Don’t be,” said Curt quietly, all hint of teasing raillery gone. “You’ve been deeply troubled and very unhappy.”
Claire caught her breath and stared up at him.
“How could you possibly know that?” she stammered faintly.
“By just looking at you when you didn’t think anyone was,” he answered with a simplicity that she found somehow painful. “Whatever it was, I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.”
“You and Nora both have bothered me quite a bit,” he said slowly, as they leaned on the railing, not looking at each other. “But of course Vera explained that Nora is going through the agonies of a frustrated love affair and is not really responsible. After all, she’s only a kid.”
“And I am twenty-four and a woman grown who is supposed to have more sense than to grieve about a frustrated love affair?” she cut in swiftly.
Curt straightened and eyed her.
“Oh, boy! Here we go again!” he said half under his breath. “I should have known that flag of truce business was just a come-on.”
“That was what you meant, wasn’t it?” Claire pursued him relentlessly.
“Well, no,” said Curt grimly. “It hadn’t occurred to me you could be sharing Nora’s mental attitude, because I couldn’t imagine any man you could care about not being your slave, and you don’t have a mother to drag you away from him. So why should I take it for granted that you were, like Nora, a fugitive from a love affair?”
Claire set her teeth and turned her eyes away from him. And when she looked back again, he was gone! He had simply turned and marched away.
She stood for a moment watching him as he strode down the deck, and then she turned back once more to contemplate the ocean, her mouth thinning a little. After all, what difference did it make to her whether he liked her or not? She didn’t like him, or any other tall, devastatingly handsome man. She’d been in love with one such charmer, and for a girl with any sense at all, one such experience was surely more than enough!
Chapter Ten
The days slid by like blue and gold beads on a chain. As Major Lesley had warned her happily, the Highland Queen poked in and out of various Caribbean ports taking on or discharging cargo, and the passengers went ashore for a few hours at each port, returning in the evening to chatter across the dinner table about their experiences and their discoveries.
Major Lesley proved to be a fascinating guide, and Claire was happy to accompany him on these shore trips. He always seemed to know which was the most interesting sight; which the most famous historical point of interest. And once he was convinced that she did not consider his carefully acquired guide-book tours a bore, he expanded visibly in the sun of her approval and was obviously delighted and proud of her companionship.
Claire had visited her patient, the crewman, several times, and he had been able to return to his duties. She was held in high esteem among all the ship’s personnel and enjoyed many privileges not ordinarily accorded to any save the most VIP passengers, a fact Vera was not slow to notice.
“It’s getting to be quite a ‘thing’ between you and the Major, isn’t it?” she drawled one evening as they came back to the salon after dinner.
“I find him a very interesting and delightful man,” said Claire coolly. “I like him very much.”
“Oh, come now,” mocked Vera derisively. “Unless he’s secretly a millionaire, which I doubt, how could such a funny, weird little duck interest a beautiful girl like you?”
“By having a very fine mind and a great zest for life, and because he has planned this trip for so long and done so much reading about it that I hate to think how much of it I’d have missed without him as a guide,” Claire answered quite honestly.
Vera considered that thoughtfully.
“Oh well, Curt has a fine mind, too, and he’s made this trip so often I’m sure that there’s not much he has missed,” she said smugly.
“I’m sure of that, too,” Claire told her, and went on her way, feeling Vera’s mocking eyes upon her as she walked.
The affair between Curt and Vera had become so much a matter of course that it was now taken for granted that when there were shore parties, Vera would always wait for Curt and go ashore with him. As the youngest passengers aboard, MacEwen Russell and Nora seemed to have established a mild friendship, so that they were a frequent twosome ashore.
The Highland Queen had finished her business with the Caribbean ports and was plodding her way into the Gulf of Mexico when it happened.
Claire was about to leave her cabin for dinner when a terrific scream came from the cabin next door — Vera’s voice, high, terrible in its intensity of shock and horror. Claire ran into the corridor as Vera’s door burst open and Vera stood there, white as the dress she wore, her eyes wide with horror, babbling unintelligibly.
Claire ran past her into the room and to the tiny bath where she stopped for a moment, shocked to rigidity by what she saw.
Nora leaned against the wall, her hands extended above the wash-basin and thick spurts of blood running down her slashed wrists. She was staring at the blood with eyes that were wide and sick with horror. Beside the basin lay a bloodstained razor blade.
Claire turned as people began running into the cabin and called out sharply, “Somebody get the first aid kit, quick!”
Curt loomed in the bathroom door, wide-eyed as Claire glanced up at him. She was beside the basin now, her thumbs pressing firmly against the veins in the girl’s wrists that were emptying themselves into the basin. As Claire pressed her thumbs down, the flow became a thin trickle, and a moment later, Carl, the steward, thrust himself through the gathering crowd, drawn by Vera’s persistent thin, high screams.
Claire looked up at Curt, still pressing her thumbs on the veins, and said sharply, “Make her be quiet! Slap her hard.”
Curt looked startled as he glanced at Vera and then back at Claire.
“Slap her?” he repeated.
“Do you know a better cure for hysteria?” demanded Claire, and glanced at Carl. “Here, Carl, put your thumbs where mine are and press gently but firmly.”
Curt said swiftly, “Here, let me.”
His hands slid deftly beneath Claire’s, so that she could remove hers without lessening the pressure on the girl’s wrists, and Claire glanced over her shoulder at Vera who huddled against the wall still emitting those high, thin wails that seemed to pierce the eardrums.
Mrs. Burke was closer to her, and Claire called out, “Mrs. Burke, slap her hard! Make her stop that awful racket.”
Mrs. Burke nodded and, with a glin
t of pure pleasure in her eyes, delivered a loud, hard slap against Vera’s contorted face that sent Vera stumbling toward her bed, where she subsided, moaning and whimpering but no longer screaming.
Claire worked with swift, sure fingers, relieved immeasurably to see that the cuts, while they had bled freely, were superficial.
Nora was pasty-white, her eyes riveted to the wounded wrists, and when at last Claire had finished the dressing on them, Nora looked up at Claire and whispered piteously, “I didn’t mean to do it — ”
“Why did you, Nora?” demanded Claire sharply. “You’re a little fool, Nora. Don’t you know there isn’t a man in the world worth it?”
“I thought I could be brave,” Nora stammered faintly. “But it didn’t hurt — and then I saw the blood — ”
“And lucky for you that you did, Nora,” said Claire, and her voice was stern. “You silly child!”
“Now wait a minute,” protested Curt, as though he found Claire’s harshness unbearable. “The poor kid’s had a terrible shock.”
“She should have a terrible spanking,” snapped Claire. “Any girl who is fool enough to think any man is worth the paring of her fingernail deserves to be hurt!”
“Oh, my poor baby! My poor, poor baby!” wailed Vera.
“Shall I slap her again, Claire?” asked Mrs. Burke pleasantly.
“No, of course not,” answered Claire, and smiled at Nora and said gently, “You’re going to be all right, honey. But don’t you ever do anything so foolish again! Do you hear me?”
Tears were slipping down Nora’s white face, and she made a terrific effort to smile.
“I won’t, Claire — oh, I won’t. I don’t know why I ever thought I’d be brave enough to try it,” she said faintly.
“Honey, it doesn’t take bravery to destroy yourself,” Claire told her. “It takes bravery to go on living, even when you’d just as soon not. I know it hurts when you’re in love with someone and have to give him up, but this isn’t the way out of a heartache like that, Nora, and don’t you ever think it.”
