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 Hamil-ton was heard again more supercilious if possible, and also very emphatic:
"Rubbish, 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.
"That'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?""Never 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.Iwanted to know why he would keep harping on that, my absolutely private affair.It was exas-perating, 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 appear-ance 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 him-self up and appeared to ponder sagaciously over the matter.
"Yes.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:
"Nothing 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 noth-ing 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 worth while to puzzle him either with truth or sarca**.
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 to-morrow.
And I was about to turn away, withdrawing my privacy from his fatuous, objectless attempts to test what sort of stuff it was made of, when he laid down his pipe in an extremely significant manner, you know, as if a critical moment had come, and leaned sideways over the table be-tween us.
"Oh! You haven't yet!" He dropped his voice mysteriously."Well, then I think you ought to know that there's something going on here."I had never in my life felt more detached from all earthly goings on.Freed from the sea for a time, I preserved the sailor's consciousness of complete independence from all land affairs.
How could they concern me? I gazed at Captain Giles' animation with scorn rather than with curiosity.
To his obviously preparatory question whether our Steward had spoken to me that day I said he hadn't.And what's more he would have had precious little encouragement if he had tried to.
I didn't want the fellow to speak to me at all.
Unrebuked by my petulance, Captain Giles, with an air of immense sagacity, began to tell me a minute tale about a Harbour Office peon.It was absolutely pointless.A peon was seen walk-ing that morning on the verandah with a letter in his hand.It was in an official envelope.As the habit of these fellows is, he had shown it to the first white man he came across.That man was our friend in the arm-chair.He, as I knew, was not in a state to interest himself in any sub-lunary matters.He could only wave the peon away.The peon then wandered on along the verandah and came upon Captain Giles, who was there by an extraordinary chance....
At this point he stopped with a profound look.
The letter, he continued, was addressed to the Chief Steward.Now what could Captain Ellis, the Master Attendant, want to write to the Steward for? The fellow went every morning, anyhow, to the Harbour Office with his report, for orders or what not.He hadn't been back more than an hour before there was an office peon chasing him with a note.Now what was that for?
And he began to speculate.It was not for this --and it could not be for that.As to that other thing it was unthinkable.
The fatuousness of all this made me stare.If the man had not been somehow a sympathetic personality I would have resented it like an in-sult.As it was, I felt only sorry for him.Some-thing remarkably earnest in his gaze prevented me from laughing in his face.Neither did Iyawn at him.I just stared.
His tone became a shade more mysterious.
Directly the fellow (meaning the Steward) got that note he rushed for his hat and bolted out of the house.But it wasn't because the note called him to the Harbour Office.He didn't go there.
He was not absent long enough for that.He came darting back in no time, flung his hat away, and raced about the dining room moaning and slapping his forehead.All these exciting facts and mani-festations had been observed by Captain Giles.
He had, it seems, been meditating upon them ever since.
