Fear
‘It’s just what I call fuggly weather,’ replied the doctor.
‘It was very cold last night, I thought,’ I remarked. ‘However, when I looked about, I found that the porthole was wide open. I had not noticed it when I went to bed. And the state-room was damp, too.’
‘Damp!’ said he. ‘Whereabouts are you?’
‘One hundred and five –’
To my surprise the doctor started visibly, and stared at me.
‘What is the matter?’ I asked.
‘Oh – nothing,’ he answered; ‘only everybody has complained of that state-room for the last three trips.’
‘I shall complain too,’ I said. ‘It has certainly not been properly aired. It is a shame!’
‘I don’t believe it can be helped,’ answered the doctor. ‘I believe there is something – well, it is not my business to frighten passengers.’
‘You need not be afraid of frightening me,’ I replied. ‘I can stand any amount of damp. If I should get a bad cold I will come to you.’
I offered the doctor a cigar, which he took and examined very critically.
‘It is not so much the damp,’ he remarked. ‘However, I dare say you will get on very well. Have you a room-mate?’
‘Yes; a deuce of a fellow, who bolts out in the middle of the night, and leaves the door open.’
Again the doctor glanced curiously at me. Then he lit the cigar and looked grave.
‘Did he come back?’ he asked presently.
‘Yes. I was asleep, but I waked up, and heard him moving. Then I felt cold and went to sleep again. This morning I found the porthole open.’
‘Look here,’ said the doctor quietly, ‘I don’t care much for this ship. I don’t care a rap for her reputation. I tell you what I will do. I have a good-sized place up here. I will share it with you, though I don’t know you from Adam.’
I was very much surprised at the proposition. I could not imagine why he should take such a sudden interest in my welfare. However, his manner as he spoke of the ship, was peculiar.
‘You are very good, doctor,’ I said. ‘But, really, I believe even now the cabin could be aired, or cleaned out, or something. Why do you not care for the ship?’
‘We are not superstitious in our profession, sir,’ replied the doctor, ‘but the sea makes people so. I don’t want to prejudice you, and I don’t want to frighten you, but if you will take my advice you will move in here. I would as soon see you overboard,’ he added earnestly, ‘as know that you or any other man was to sleep in 105.’
‘Good gracious! Why?’ I asked.
‘Just because on the last three trips the people who have slept there actually have gone overboard,’ he answered gravely.
The intelligence was startling and exceedingly unpleasant, I confess. I looked hard at the doctor to see whether he was making game of me, but he looked perfectly serious. I thanked him warmly for his offer, but told him I intended to be the exception to the rule by which every one who slept in that particular state-room went overboard. He did not say much, but looked grave as ever, and hinted that, before we got across, I should probably reconsider his proposal. In the course of time we went to breakfast, at which only an inconsiderable number of passengers assembled. I noticed that one or two of the officers who breakfasted with us looked grave. After breakfast I went into my state-room in order to get a book. The curtains of the upper berth were still closely drawn. Not a word was to be heard. My room-mate was probably still asleep.
As I came out I met the steward whose business it was to look after me. He whispered that the captain wanted to see me, and then scuttled away down the passage as if very anxious to avoid any questions. I went towards the captain’s cabin, and found him waiting for me.
‘Sir,’ said he, ‘I want to ask a favour of you.’
I answered that I would do anything to oblige him.
‘Your room-mate has disappeared,’ he said. ‘He is known to have turned in early last night. Did you notice anything extraordinary in his manner?’
The question coming, as it did, in exact confirmation of the fears the doctor had expressed half an hour earlier, staggered me.
‘You don’t mean to say he has gone overboard?’ I asked.
‘I fear he has,’ answered the captain.