No Good Deed 28

Captain Grey appeared to descend into a brown study at this point. Even had I wished to initiate some conversation then, I could not have done so. Rather unwisely perhaps, I had attempted another swallow of my host's 'Brandy from Paree.' It afforded the opportunity to look more closely at the contents of the cabin, now that I had recovered from the shock of the unknown flag and the enormously-sized bed. There were two portholes in each of the three visible walls of the cabin, and for all I knew the giant flag covered another two. These were all mere affectation surely, since the cabin was high above the main deck, not to speak of the waterline, and therefore any kind of glaziery would have been appropriate. In one corner stood a hideous brass object; the ubiquitous cuspidor. It seemed that any space with pretensions to the entertainment of guests- paying or otherwise – must needs be blessed with some or other exemplar of a spittoon. This alloyed urn was claimed as the property of 'The Yaller House, St Louis' by dint of an ill-engraved plaque affixed uncertainly to its exterior. I turned to the Captain with a view to engaging him in some trifling raillery concerning his acquisition of the receptacle.

However, it seemed that I had been quite mistaken as to the man's meditatory habits, for he was - to all appearances - in the grip of the Grand Mal. His earlier introspection had been either Petit Mal, or some other event precursory to his fit. The Captain fell to the ground, jerking like the subject of one of Signor Galvano's experiments on amphibians. Briefly, I pondered allowing his seizure to take its course, but decided that perhaps the death of the riverboat's captain might inconvenience my departure from it. The Captain was most fortunate in his toppling, his head having missed the heavy wooden frame of the bed. The only cloth I had available was the musky 'kerchief purloined from McGraw's corpse, so I held this to my nose against the results of the Captain's fit-induced incontinence and fashioned a serviceable gag from a corner of the bed's coverlet.

The fit lasted no more than a minute or so, but resulted in a faint at the end of it. I thought that the banging of his head against the deck would no doubt occasion a considerable headache on his recovering consciousness. Removing the bloody end of the bed-covering, I noted that I had not entirely saved the Captain's tongue from being bitten.

The rifling of his iron-bound trunk yielded nothing but an unlikely number of female undergarments and no pecuniary advantage at all. Under the bed was a curious leather item of the type the American's are wont to call a saddlebag. It was empty. I had a mind to kick the Captain while he was down, and so I did.