Incident At Sea

“PIM” Short Story:

By Judy Tudor

He prided himself on being an understanding man—toler ant, broad-minded, of pene trating perception. To know all, he often said, was to under stand all. He was particularly disposed to knowing all and understanding it when the sub ject was a beautiful young woman.

But—perhaps because he had lived too long isolation —he was also a prejudiced man. And when a prejudiced man, confess ing to powers of penetrating perception, allows himself to understand a beautiful young woman, the wires are apt to get crossed.

IT was one of those ridiculous hats which fill men’s minds with either tolerant affection or downright It had all the attributes of a hat: high crown, brim upswept at the sides but it was no larger than a decent-sized break fast-cup. It was purple in colour, with two giant, cyclamen-coloured imitation roses adhering to the starboard quarter, and a piece of blue veiling fluttering astern. James G. Robinson, planter, bachelor, collector - by - impression of female headgear, described it thus to himself as he saw it first, a formless purple object in panorama, bound by a purple band to a nondescript head and then taking form and shape as the body beneath teetered up the gangway to deck level.

He disliked that hat on sight and its owner no less; for he was a man of siki den, and unreasonable, antipathies. He met both again at lunch—that first meal, pushing out into a blue, summer sea.

The lady of the headpiece was florid, and apparently believed that the hat became her, so she wore it to table. Her shoul ders, Robinson reflected sourly, were too close to her ears. At that stage she had the well-corseted plumpness of middle age; in a few years she would wheeze, and wobble when she walked. Robinson found himself taking some sort of fiendish delight in the prospect.

She was, above all these things, bright.

She beamed upon Robinson as she beamed upon all God’s children. “Well, now,” she said, “our table is complete.

We were just getting acquainted. I am Mrs. Britton-James; this is my husband ” Robinson nodded to a thin man in a tropical suit on the lady’s off-side.

“ and this is my daughter Penelope.”

Penelope was a blonde flapper, maybe sixteen, who stopped eating soup just long enough to say: “D-do.”

“My name is Robinson,” he announced stiffly, as though he were suddenly ashamed of the fact. The woman, he told himself savagely, would turn the whole simple process of travelling from one place to another into a suburban bun-fight. He knew the type. They never rose above their environment; they took it with them. He damned her, and all her kind to hell, and nodded to the couple on his right. He knew them: the Merediths from down the coast. He cared for neither, normally, but now asked with some warmth how they were.

“So-so,” said Meredith.

“Well as can be expected on this bloody ship full of round-trippers,” said Mrs.

Meredith. “Food’s poisonous ... as usual.” She shoved her plate away and took up a half-smoked cigarette, leaning her bony brown arms on the table and letting her back sink into a discontented curve.

“And you, my dear?” Mrs. Britton - James resumed her pursuit of social knowledge, having staggered but momen tarily under the verbal broadside of Mrs.

Meredith. And, for the first time, Robin son looked squarely at the seventh occu pant of the table. rIS girl, he told himself at once, was beautiful. Beautiful with health. It shone out of her finely-tanned face, her blue eyes and her brown hair. She looked wholesome enough to eat. Even her blue linen frock might have been spun, cut and sewn with the special pur pose of adding to the general effect of well-washed perfection. She looked like the earthly manifestation of a soap ad. in one of the glossiest works of prmtery art. His body involuntarily tensed; his mind approved of this wench. She had

possibilities. f

The girl reddened under the battery of seven pairs of eyes, but she answered with a twinkle: “Pardon— very remiss of me. I’m Valerie Norton.”

“Thank you, my dear. Now we all know one another. I think it is so stuffy to be stiff-necked about these things Dont you, Mr. Robinson?” She bobbed hei little hat at Robinson and patted him familiarly on the arm. He recoiled from b °“l‘guess we Islands people rather like being unsocial, at times. It’s one of our

few privileges.”

“Now then, I’m sure you are fooling I have heard so much about the friendli ness hf Islands people. We are just doing

(Continued on Pcige 38)

the round trip. Poor Cyril—Mr. Britton- James—has been ordered away by the doctor.” , . “Great strain —great" nervous strain.

Mr. Britton-James made his one con tribution to the conversational whirl and then, as though the effort had been too great, took out his handkerchief and blew his nose loudly.

Penelope, taking her face out of a large green salad, remarked that daddy would be better off it he didn’t (something indistinguishable).

“Penelope, that’s sufficient! Mamas warm voice came two degrees off the beam. “Really, the way children chatter these days! Now. I’m sure you, good people are old Islands residents, and with a glassy grin at Mrs. Meredith exclusively: “You have the appearance.

“Years.” Mrs. Meredith exhaled a dense cloud of smoke.

“And tell me about the poor, deal natives One hears such conflicting reports. I’ve always though that it was a great mistake on the part of- the Almighty when he made black as well as whiitp dgodlc So confusing! Ana i SSws S a lot of trouble. But I must coE that the idea of black-boys to wait on one, hand and foot, does appeal.

Tell me, are they t 0 “Liousv ” said la Meredith. Then, to her husband: ‘Come on, let’s get out o£ this pus's trough. The bar should oe ° P Madame Britton-James, promising to “see them all at dinner,” shepherded her family in their smoky wake.

Robinson was thankful to Providence for this indication of good-will. ‘ Your first trip to the Islands, Miss Norton? he asked.

“You, too!” T “Mrs. Britton-James? No—l guess I iust asked in order to make conversation.

And we ‘lslands folk,’ as she calls us, like to place everyone, of course.”

“It is my first trip,”' she said, but vouchsafed no further information whether by design or accident Robinson was puzzled to know. , In rising from his chair, as Miss Norton left the his foot kicked something soft; it spun away across the polished floor, coming to a sliding stop beneath the girl's retreating feet. A woman, handbag, heavy with its contents. An unusual bag, Robinson thought, made of white wooden beads strung together.

The girl turned around as the ua & struck her shoe, murmured something Robinson could not catch, stooped and picked the bag up quickxy, and was gone from the room. + MISS NORTON and the Merediths were already dining when Robinson came down at 7.15.

Miss Norton, again m angelic blue, looked up and smiled. Mrs. Meredi.h wore white, that went ill with her brown boniness, and a vixenish smirk. No sign yet of the old bi—She clipped oft the last word midway as she caught Valerie Norton’s eye, paused a dear natives,’ and ‘whats black servants to wait on you hand and foot!’ Bah! these people have one-track minds. They never can see past the first native Uh-huh—here it comes! The she-wolf herself and her Mrs. Britton-James had £er rmrnle hat and wore a black irocK. draped ti|ht across her sweeping curves, but P Roblnson liked Madame was in no mood for We into which the table was disposed to sink qvip «;wpnt the circle with reddened eyes lUdyoWtWknowbwhaI U d y oWt W know b what 00 I in cluld r have done

W '“Steward probably pinched it,” said

didn’t, he’s such a mce man Reminds me of MnFaulkes-you

S-Hs r -name?-weli W it doesn^matter

dau^Sr my P two

Robinson put down the menu card and asked deliberately; “Tell me, madame, when did you last see the bag? And whai sort of a thing was it?”

“Oh, I know I had it just before lunch, but I just can’t remember what I did with it after that. It was one of those white wooden bead bags, they come from one of those outlandish places in Central Europe. I can never remember the name, or pronounce it when I do. I’ve complained to the purser, of course, but he seemed quite unfriendly. Such strange people they pick for pursers these days.

He * * ROBINSON found ■ Miss Norton in a deck-chair on the top deck. Her feet were propped on the rail, ana the warm wind blew through her hair.

She looked, in the half-light, cool, calm and conscience-free. Beneath that soap ad virginal freshness, he reflected, beat the heart of a hardened sinner “A beautiful night,” he said. Mind if 1 “No 1 no°t U at all. The night is beautiful.

It is easy to believe that the world is a good place on such an occasion.”

“And only man is vile, eh? Or ladies like Mrs. Britton-James, perhaps?

“Mrs. Britton-James is really a very sad case. There is no harm in her, but I imagine that she can be very irritating. ; “Just the specialised ‘married-woman type. After they have hooked their man their brains cease to evolve.” Robinson momentarily had been diverted from his purpose, but he returned to it.

“Are you coming up for a holiday? he “No, indeed. I have no money for such holidays.”

“Broke?”

“Well, that’s rather a constant state with me, I’m afraid.” , ■, Best come to the point, he decidea.

With that type it paid. “I think I know your secret, Miss Norton.” See how she t °“Mv tl secret?” Genuine surprise showed in her voice. He admired her nerve “Oh, you needn’t worry. Its safe witn m “Vou mean ? Oh, that. You must think I’m an awful fool. It’s hot that I’m so ashamed of it, only - She , not complete the sentence and they both gazed, apparently with g reat interest, into the star-flecked darkness. ; There was a moment of silence. Shes a cool one, thought Robinson, and aloud ld "JR?* understanding voice “I co^? h t in l^ a fncl you being ashamed of anything once you had decided, in cold blood, to do it Funny thing, temptation. It gets us ail at different times.” t this The girl answered, Indeed? to tms near! of wisdom, and Robinson con tinued: “The bloke who said the greatest crime was getting found out said a mouthful. I’ve never told this to a soul, but I got my start up here on thirty quid I pinched from the man I used to work for. I was getting 25 bob a week, and doing a carthorse out of a job. and I was reading a lot of nign coloured literature about in tbp South Seas. I made up my mina that that was the place for me, and one day the opportunity of relieving old Jones of a lump sum just Panted itself It was riches to me and * f or it and then sat around trembling, 10l a week It was found out of .course and they suspected me, but I sat “d they couldn’t pin a thing on ma They gave me the sack, but I dian t care ab °Tho t se a were tl the days when one could ?Snnfng e " 8 04 Government M of my own. I never looked back from Calvinistic ancestors used to

sit up and make faces at me for years.

And I had a superstitious belief myself that no good would come of such ill gotten gains. But not a darned thing happened. To the contrary, while some of my neighbours went to the wall, I flourished.

“Several years ago, while I was on leave, I looked old Jones up. Poor old blighter had gone bankrupt, and was in an old man’s home. I bought him some things that he needed, and left him some cash. He was overjoyed. Couldn’t under stand why a kid he’d sacked 30 years before should suddenly turn up as the fairy godfather.

“So you see, not a soul lost out on that little episode—although, by all the rules, I should have come to a sticky end. If I hadn’t taken that money it ultimately would have gone into the pool to part pay Jones’s creditors; I should never have got my plantation or have been able to help Jones out when he was in his direst straits.”

“Mr. Robinson, are you trying to tel! me that crime does pay—or something of that sort?”

“No, not at all. For example, the num bers of all the notes Mrs. Britton-James .lost are known. Whoever has got them will find it hard to get rid of them, where we are going.”

“I shouldn’t have thought that she would have had the sense to do that.”

Miss Norton, apparently following suc cessfully his lead from the general to the particular, sounded thoughtful.

“She didn’t. She tells me that Mr.

Britton-James did. before he gave them to her. Well, I think I’ll turn in.

Madame, by the way ? is sitting in the music room with her ‘two-ring circus.’

Her cabin is number 79—in case you are interested.” * ♦ ♦.

YOUNG Penelope and Robinson arrived at breakfast simultaneously. Miss Norton and her healthy appetite were already there. So also was a bag of white wooden beads, conspicuously disnlaved left of her plate. Surely to God, thought Robinson, she is not going to present it to the old fool in a public ceremony!

“Hullo,” said Penelope, “You have a bag like Mummy’s. Not nuite the same shape, but the same sort. They come from Czechoslovakia, don’t they?”

“I believe so,” said Miss Norton.

“Oh, by the wav, Mummv’s has been found. Actually it wasn’t lost at all.

Daddy took it. He often does things like that, just to pay her out. She’s fearfully careless—leaves things all over the place.

Last time it was two front teeth. She left them in the bathroom cabinet one night. Daddy found them next morning.

He said it was just too shattering to his nerves to see those two teeth staring at him in the cold light of morning. He hid them. She couldn’t go out for two days.

“Anvway. all the time she was having hysterics about the bag he had it in his suitcase. He told her so last night. Now they’ve had a row. Won’t be down to breakfast, I expect?” ♦ * * MISS NORTON found Robinson in a deck-chair on the top deck, his feet on the rail, and gazing nensively out to sea. “I hope you are ouite well.

Mr Robinson.” she said. “I noticed you looked ouite unset at breakfast, and you hardly ate a thing.”

Miss Norton was in white linen that morning: she still looked soan-addish, cool, well-washed and beautiful. But Robinson gave her a glance of distaste and resumed his contemnlation of the blue ocean. “I’m quite all right,” he said shortlv.

“I think I know what’s troubling vou.” she said, drawing un a chair and natting his arm in motherlv fashion. “I can’t

imagine why you told me what you did last night. But people do give unex pected confidences under such circum stances, and the night was beautiful.

I’m afraid that now in the daylight you are regretting it.” Robinson replied not, having suddenly become bereft of words.

His mind was a vacuum; he let the girl babble on, “I can assure you, Mr. Robinson, that your confidence is safe with me. You will feel better, later, for the confession and, like you, in the ultimate analysis, I feel that good came out of evil.” Robin son still stared stolidly at the sea. “I have had confidences given me before; I hold them as a sacred trust. As you have already found out somewhere, I am a missionary sister going to a new post.

It was silly of me not to say so right

out, but Mrs. Meredith seemed so pre judiced about everything ”

Far from reassuring him this state ment seemed to unnerve Robinson still more. He switched his glare from the sea to the girl, his face went deep crim son, and he shot from the chair in two jerky movements.

“For God's sake!” he exclaimed. “For God's sake!” Then he went bounding down the deck, leaving the girl, for the second time in twelve hours, to stare bewildered after him. * * ♦ AS he looked down, the companionway he saw a hat swim into his ken. A large-brimmed hat set well forward on a head he could not see; a hat with a crown the size of a button, a wreath of blue cornflowers and a swathe of veil.

It came jerkily up the companion way until the face emerged. It could be no other Mrs. Britton-James beamed.

“Why, Mr. Robinson! How very nice.’

“Excuse me, madame—excuse me. If you please.” He pushed her to one side rudely and in three leaps was on the lower deck, still muttering-, “Missionary!

For God’s sake!” „ . .

“Most peculiar, that Mr. Robinson.

Mrs. Britton-James, her large hat quiv ering with indignation as much as with the breeze, bore down on Miss Norton.

“Do you think he was going to be sea sick?”

“He certainly acts in a most amaz ing fashion,” replied Miss Norton. I just can’t make him out.”

“Do you know,” said Mr.s Britton- James settling Into the chair lately occupied by Robinson, "I think all these neonle are a bit queer. Now, honestly P dear don’t you think that Mrs.

Meredith . . .