Read Online And the Deep Blue Sea by Charles Williams - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Charles Williams
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even thought about it, and he’d assumed, with no particular interest, that he might be impotent.
Haggerty, during that marathon drunk when he discovered the underground skyway, had brought up the subject the night they’d shared the same room, and asked him whether he was gay. He’d said no, he was researching an article for Reader’s Digest ; continence was the new hope for alcoholics with a time problem. Exactly, she’d said; something had to go, and she’d always advocated sexual freedom herself. People had a perfect right not to go to bed with each other; all it took was courage. And now that they’d made this bow in the direction of conformity, why didn’t he open the other bottle? He’d never known what particular hound was pursuing Haggerty down the nights and down the days, but he hoped she’d worked it out. She was nice.
There was the sound of chimes in the passageway then, announcing lunch. Goddard excused himself and took the pitcher back to his cabin. There was a dividend in it, which he poured and drank as he dumped the ice in the basin, still thinking idly of Madeleine Lennox. He went aft to the dining saloon. There were two tables, each seating eight, extending fore-and-aft on opposite sides of the room, but only the port one was used. Captain Steen sat at the aft end of it, with Karen Brooke on his right and Madeleine Lennox on his left. Goddard looked inquiringly at the dining room steward.
“You sit there,” the latter said, indicating the place next to Madeleine Lennox. He was a heavyset youth with a florid and rather sullen face. Goddard sat down, wondering what luck of the draw had placed him again within range of that gregarious left leg. Or was it luck? At the same moment Mr. Krasicki entered. He seemed uncertain as to where he was to sit, and the steward indicated the chair next to Karen Brooke. The two women smiled at him, and Captain Steen said, “We’re very glad to see you up, Mr. Krasicki.” The latter nodded and attempted a smile, but said nothing. Goddard noted there were two other places set, the one at his left, and the one at the forward end of the table, which would no doubt be Lind’s. The steward made no move to serve the soup, and Captain Steen appeared to be waiting for something.
“Mr. Egerton said he didn’t want any lunch,” the steward said. “And Mr. Lind won’t be here.”
Captain Steen nodded, lowered his head, and said grace. When he had finished, Krasicki asked, “That is the other passenger, Mr. Egger—Edger—?”
“That’s right, you haven’t met him, have you?” Mrs. Lennox said. “It’s Mr. Egerton. You’ll like him; he’s very nice.”
She turned to Goddard and went on brightly, “He’s English. A retired colonel.”
Krasicki interrupted, his face screwed into a frown of intense concentration as though he had difficulty following her. “An English, you say?”
“Yes,” Madeleine Lennox replied. “But he’s been living in Argentina.”
The steward had begun serving the soup, but Krasicki paid no attention to it. He was still staring at Madeleine Lennox with that rapt concentration. “For many years?” he asked. Goddard noted at the same time that Karen had turned and was looking at Krasicki thoughtfully. Madeleine Lennox replied that she didn’t know how long.
Krasicki appeared to become self-conscious under their regard, and mumbled, “You must excuse me. I have little English.” The corner of his mouth began to twitch. He lowered his head over his soup and began to eat it rapidly.
Both women then demanded Goddard tell them what had happened to the yacht. With apologies to Captain Steen, who’d already heard it, he gave an understated account of the affair, hoping he wouldn’t have to go through it again for Egerton.
Still feeling some of the aftereffects of his three-day ordeal, he took a nap after lunch. It was nearly five when he awoke, logy and dispirited. He showered and went on deck to walk off some of the
Haggerty, during that marathon drunk when he discovered the underground skyway, had brought up the subject the night they’d shared the same room, and asked him whether he was gay. He’d said no, he was researching an article for Reader’s Digest ; continence was the new hope for alcoholics with a time problem. Exactly, she’d said; something had to go, and she’d always advocated sexual freedom herself. People had a perfect right not to go to bed with each other; all it took was courage. And now that they’d made this bow in the direction of conformity, why didn’t he open the other bottle? He’d never known what particular hound was pursuing Haggerty down the nights and down the days, but he hoped she’d worked it out. She was nice.
There was the sound of chimes in the passageway then, announcing lunch. Goddard excused himself and took the pitcher back to his cabin. There was a dividend in it, which he poured and drank as he dumped the ice in the basin, still thinking idly of Madeleine Lennox. He went aft to the dining saloon. There were two tables, each seating eight, extending fore-and-aft on opposite sides of the room, but only the port one was used. Captain Steen sat at the aft end of it, with Karen Brooke on his right and Madeleine Lennox on his left. Goddard looked inquiringly at the dining room steward.
“You sit there,” the latter said, indicating the place next to Madeleine Lennox. He was a heavyset youth with a florid and rather sullen face. Goddard sat down, wondering what luck of the draw had placed him again within range of that gregarious left leg. Or was it luck? At the same moment Mr. Krasicki entered. He seemed uncertain as to where he was to sit, and the steward indicated the chair next to Karen Brooke. The two women smiled at him, and Captain Steen said, “We’re very glad to see you up, Mr. Krasicki.” The latter nodded and attempted a smile, but said nothing. Goddard noted there were two other places set, the one at his left, and the one at the forward end of the table, which would no doubt be Lind’s. The steward made no move to serve the soup, and Captain Steen appeared to be waiting for something.
“Mr. Egerton said he didn’t want any lunch,” the steward said. “And Mr. Lind won’t be here.”
Captain Steen nodded, lowered his head, and said grace. When he had finished, Krasicki asked, “That is the other passenger, Mr. Egger—Edger—?”
“That’s right, you haven’t met him, have you?” Mrs. Lennox said. “It’s Mr. Egerton. You’ll like him; he’s very nice.”
She turned to Goddard and went on brightly, “He’s English. A retired colonel.”
Krasicki interrupted, his face screwed into a frown of intense concentration as though he had difficulty following her. “An English, you say?”
“Yes,” Madeleine Lennox replied. “But he’s been living in Argentina.”
The steward had begun serving the soup, but Krasicki paid no attention to it. He was still staring at Madeleine Lennox with that rapt concentration. “For many years?” he asked. Goddard noted at the same time that Karen had turned and was looking at Krasicki thoughtfully. Madeleine Lennox replied that she didn’t know how long.
Krasicki appeared to become self-conscious under their regard, and mumbled, “You must excuse me. I have little English.” The corner of his mouth began to twitch. He lowered his head over his soup and began to eat it rapidly.
Both women then demanded Goddard tell them what had happened to the yacht. With apologies to Captain Steen, who’d already heard it, he gave an understated account of the affair, hoping he wouldn’t have to go through it again for Egerton.
Still feeling some of the aftereffects of his three-day ordeal, he took a nap after lunch. It was nearly five when he awoke, logy and dispirited. He showered and went on deck to walk off some of the
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