No Good Deed 20

There being only so much of his own company that a man might stand, I ventured once more onto the deck, thinking to complete a circumambulation of the Grand Turk, before trying my luck in the saloon bar. As I passed the Pilot House on the port side, the pilot himself briefly took his eyes from the river, and allowed me a glance, before shaking his head. It was an unsupportable insult from such a crude ruffian, but it was impractical to make him pay for it. I contented myself with the knowledge that the man had to contend with the Captain's company. The weather was fair: what clouds were visible, were both very high and very white. It was cold, true enough, but it was yet mid-February. In truth, I was most fractious, having had no company of any sort since that of the unexpectedly talented Muskrat Jaw Jean. Thus far, there had been damn few ladies aboard the riverboat at all, and I found the charms of the men altogether too rough for my tastes.

Several deck hands, Negroes all, were performing some incomprehensible task toward the bow of the vessel and it was necessary to request their co-operation in the matter of crossing to the starboard side. I was a little nervous of doing so, for there was no one in a position of responsibility present. However, they stepped aside with a tug of imaginary forelocks and to a man mumbled,

'Lord bless you, Missuh Northrup.'

It really was most peculiar.

Amidships, standing at the starboard rail, stood two ladies, dressed most fashionably for Missourians. Both figures' trim waists were accentuated by the bell-shaped skirts. Attractive though the sight was, I was reminded of how much was impractical for women, since these same skirts occupied most of the deck between the rail and the forward superstructure, through which I needed to pass to complete my constitutional. They appeared to be mother and daughter: the younger of the two looked to be about sixteen, with a fresh, un-lined complexion, free of rouge or other artifice. Her mother, if that were she, wore no disguise that I could detect; what lines marked her face were attractive and pointed to a predisposition to laughter and enjoyment.

'Good afternoon, ladies,'

I swept off my hat, it was an imposing example, in grey: I had thought it quite the thing and had been unable to bear exchanging it for Northrup's on assuming the rest of his clothes. The younger woman, merely looked at the hat and laughed. It was provocative and bold, but I laughed too.

'Britisher habits, ladies, I am recently returned from those islands.'

'Charmed, I'm sure,' the older of the two replied.' Mrs Octavia Hatfield, may I present my niece, sir, Myra Maybelle Shirley.

The girl dropped a little curtsey. I felt myself relieved that she was only Mrs Hatfield's niece, rather than her daughter - in which case a dalliance with both was not out of the question.