No Good Deed 27

The Captain gave a sound between a clearing of the throat and a snort, then turned to me,

'Guess I can leave Pilot Ireland in charge o' the Turk fer now.'

His eyes darted sideways at the stolid figure, before he added,

' Would y'all take a livener in my cabin, Mr Northrup? Ah find yore comp'ny preferable to some.'

I gave my consent and followed the Captain aft. Forward of the superstructure housing the Saloon Bar and restaurant was the part of the ship which contained my own bunk. This was a twin-decked affair. Naturally, my cabin was in the lower part, well to the rear. in the very innermost core of this part of the ship. It had no water-view, since it had no porthole - or indeed any orifice which might have permitted natural light to enter. The Captain, however, led me up an external stairway, which led to a door at the forward end of the structure. This arrangement was mirrored at the aft end: and I saw a line of passengers descending very slowly, the stair being too narrow to effect any more rapid progress. Captain Grey produced a heavy ring with a respectable number of keys attached. He selected a rusted affair with multiple projections and cuts: the simple keyhole in the door must have provided access to the most complex of warded locks.

It afforded him no difficulty in the matter of opening however, despite the appearance of the key itself. The Captain's cabin was, naturally enough, a deal larger than my own. And if it were extravagance to give over such a large proportion of the limited space on board to the comfort of one man, then I for one did not begrudge him it. I had felt claustrophobic aboard the Iowa, crossing the Atlantic, even whilst on deck facing the open seas. An endless succession of navigations of the self-same river would have had much the same effect, I believed. Still, it was a most peculiar lair. The whole of one wall was covered in an enormous flag. It belonged to no country that I knew; being a blue Latin cross on a red field. There were 15 white stars on the cross and, on the red field, palmetto and crescent symbols. An gigantic bed failed to dominate the space, since there was room enough to dance a quadrille between it and sundry other furnishings.

'Drink, Mr Northrup?' the Captain enquired.

'Might you have a brandy, sir?'

'Hell, yes. All the way from Paree, France.'

I sincerely hoped such was not the case. He strode across to a sideboard to pour whatever it was we were about to drink.

The first sensation on the tongue was a burning; not the smooth heat engendered by a cognac, by any means. The next was a numbness and, it seemed, a swelling of the tongue itself. This was soon forgotten in the acid corrosion which began to assail the gullet. I gasped and said,

'Capital, Captain Grey, simply capital!.'

He tipped his own glass to his lips, swigged as though it were a mint cordial and replied,

'Ain't it though, Mr Northrup? Ain't it though?'