Read Online Ship of Fools by Katherine Anne Porter - Free Book Online

is not always the greatest misfortune. In fact it is possible for man to go without nourishment for forty days; we now have scientific confirmation of the word of Holy Writ. More especially so, I dare say, if the subject has flesh to spare, plenty of water, and perhaps a little stimulant of some kind at intervals.… However, none of this will be necessary. At the worst, you might have them send me a little something on a tray. Better, if we should fold a fresh towel under Bébé’s head, with plenty of newspapers underneath, he will do very well by himself for let us say an hour.”
    Frau Hutten nodded. She lifted Bébé’s head and examined him. He seemed more at ease. “Don’t think your little Vati and Mutti are deserting you, my precious one,” she told him in round maternal tones. “We are only going for a little while.” The Professor hooked both his forearms under her armpits, from the back, hauled her up with the expertness of long practice, steadied her while she got her balance, and then carried out his own proposed measures for the care of Bébé, who seemed very little interested in them or in his surroundings.
    â€œAh,” sighed his wife, leaning her head briefly on his bowed shoulder, “it is all very difficult.”
    â€œWe will find ways and means,” said the Professor, reassuringly. Bébé was going to be a problem, though, if not a complete nuisance, as always, he could see that. A hard thought which the Professor rebuked himself for innerly, but could not deny. “Away with us before the soup is cold,” he exclaimed with the false gaiety of a guilty conscience.
    The big girl Elsa Lutz and her parents Herr and Frau Heinrich Lutz were taking their first stroll in dull leisure around the deck. Elsa towered over her rather weedy elders, but walked between them, their obedient child, holding each by a hand. They stopped and peered downward through an iron grating which rewarded them with a sight of the steerage feeding quarters. There were rows of narrow trestles loaded with food, and long benches ranged beside them. Cooking smells rose warmly, the people were coming in slowly and seating themselves. They recognized the billowing back and bowed head of the fat man in the cherry-colored shirt, already deep in his dinner, helping himself freely from large platters of substantial food in a half circle round his plate.
    â€œWell, God bless us,” said Herr Lutz in some surprise, and he put on his spectacles for a closer look. “Why, how can they make any profit if they set a table like that?” He was a Swiss, descendant of a long line of hotelkeepers, and he had run a hotel of his own in Mexico; his interest was entirely professional.
    â€œFried potatoes,” he murmured, “there must be a pound of them on his plate. A whole braised pig’s knuckle, with fried onions, red sweet-sour cabbage and split-pea purée—well, true it’s none of it on the expensive side, yet it all costs something. And coffee. Fruit besides, and Apfelstrudel —no, they can’t keep it up and break even. Look how that fellow eats! It makes me hungry to watch him.”
    His wife, a dumpy plain woman with a roll of faded dry hair bristling with wire hairpins, observed the scene with her habitual expression, long ago settled into a blend of constant disapproval and righteous ill-humor. “It is only to make a show in the beginning,” she remarked. “They will begin to economize on all of us before the trip is over. A new broom,” she said, “sweeps clean.”
    â€œHa, ha,” laughed her husband, “you mean a new customer eats clean.” His daughter joined his laughter dutifully but a little uneasily; his wife treated the joke with the contempt it merited, keeping her face still long enough for him to see exactly what she thought of his nonsense. He continued his laughter long enough to let her see