Around the World With Auntie Mame (36 page)

“Hey. Wait a . . .”

She blew a kiss in my direction and departed.

OVERCOME, I WAS JUST ABLE TO MAKE MY WAY DOWN to my hot little cabin, bathe again, and get into my white dinner jacket. Auntie Mame had also made some attempt at dressing for dinner, but the
Lesbos
had none of the affectations of the
Normandie
. Dr. Shumway was still in his tropical clericals, wet black stains deep beneath the arms. The captain and his officers, somewhat dirtier and sweatier than they had been at noon, were otherwise unchanged. Rosemary did not appear at all. When I asked about her, Dr. Shumway said, “Ah, dear boy, my poor daughter has found the heat too oppressive. She will most likely come up in the cool of the evening.”

At dinner Auntie Mame pointed to a succulent item called
Για
ν
saying, “This looks good. It'll be such fun to learn Greek here with Dr. Shumway to help me. I do know Sigma Chi and Phi Beta Kappa and the Omega watch but . . .” She was interrupted by a greasy plate slapped down in front of her. It was the same stew we had been served for lunch.

It took us no time to finish the meal. Dr. Shumway escorted Auntie Mame to the lounge and, excusing myself, I dashed off an impassioned note to Rosemary telling her that I would be waiting on the aft deck. I slipped it under her door and went back to join Auntie Mame and the Reverend Alfred Shumway. But when I returned to the lounge, Auntie Mame was alone. “I can't understand it, darling,” she said. “Just to make a little shop talk for him I got onto Deuteronomy and he was out of here like a shot. Well, no matter. I'm going to get out of this suffocating dress and back into
Sodom and Gomorrah
. Don't be up too late, Lochinvar.” She kissed me and was gone.

Even out on the sea with the sun down, it was no cooler. Making sure that every hair was in place, I went out to the rear deck to wait for Rosemary. It was some wait. Midnight came and there was still no sign of my inamorata. Then I must have fallen asleep because it was dawn when I awoke—still quite alone—but with a stiff neck and my white dinner jacket black with soot.

THE NEXT DAY WAS STILL HOTTER. ROSEMARY DID not appear for breakfast or for lunch. I slid another note under her door and waited all afternoon in the sweltering lounge. Auntie Mame read all day, and by dinnertime I had read all the copies of
The Modern Priscilla
. Dinner came and went. I ate it—or, rather, didn't eat it—alone with Auntie Mame. Dr. Shumway claimed to be too overheated to dine. “If that's the case,” Auntie Mame said, “it's just as well, probably. I'm not sure I could stand it. I mean wouldn't you think that with all those efficacious deodorants and antiperspirants on the market even a man of God would do something about his everlasting . . .”

“Now, Auntie Mame,” I said, “just don't bring up anything like that with him.”

“Oh, certainly not, darling. I can never bring
anything
up with him without his running like a rabbit. They both seem to treat me like a she-devil. Especially the girl. But I thought that as another man, dear, you could just give poor Dr. Shumway a few pointers about masculine daintiness. I mean the idea is to win converts, not repel them and . . .”

“Have you gone crazy with the heat?” I demanded.

“Practically. I think I'll go below, have a cool bath, and read a bit. Don't be up too late with your lady friend. Good night.”

There was no need to worry. Rosemary never came out. Ito was cooking for Auntie Mame and taking trays to her cabin. Her palate was such that no amount of money could have lured her to the officers' mess. And it was so hot that the captain took his meals clad only in a bath towel—a sight that would have put you off your feed at Laperouse, not to mention the dining saloon of the
Lesbos
. Another note under Rosemary's door still brought no results.

On the fourth day—hotter still—I was down to bathing trunks, like the rest of the ship's crew. None of the passengers appeared at all. A homemade “Do Not Disturb” sign hung on Auntie Mame's door. In desperation, I went up to the hurricane deck, hoping for a breath of wind. There was none, but, passing the radio shack, I was attracted by the fulsome strains of Carroll Gibbons and His Boyfriends coming—with a lot of static—over the BBC. I looked in at the open door and there was a young Greek swilling wine. He was seated at some outmoded radio equipment and had made his quarters quite homey in a hideous sort of way with a terrible Turkish rug on the floor, pink curtains at the windows, souvenir pillows on his bunk, a lead reproduction of the Statue of Liberty, and pictures pinned up everywhere. There must have been two hundred of them in the tiny cabin—“toots” shots of Jean Harlow, Toby Wing, Mary Carlisle, Ginger Rogers, Mae West, Anita Louise, Alice Faye; almost any blonde you care to mention.

The radioman saw me and smiled. “Hhhell-oh,” he said in heavily accented English. “Come in. You spik Eenglees?”

“A little,” I said. “I'm an American.”

“Oh!” he said, effusively offering me a chair. “Verry guud, Amerrrica. Nize. Then you know my cozins in Edie.”

“Who?”

“In Edie, Pencil-vonya, near Bofa-lo, New Yorrrk. Is nize Edie, Pencil-vonya. I have uncle in Edie, also cozins. Wait.” He fled to a closet almost the size of my cabin and returned with sheaths of photographs and also a fresh bottle. “Hhhhere is Rrrretsina. Grik wine. Verrry guud.” He poured me out a large tumbler of Retsina, a wine so resinous that it was more like licking a violin bow than drinking. “Is guuuud?”

“Very tasty,” I lied.

“Hhhere is my cozins of Edie, Pencil-vonya. Eleni, Caliope, Achilles, Pythagoras, Socrates, Plato, Terpsichore, Ophelia, Athena, Hermaphrodite, Miltiades, Medusa, Pachysandra, and George. Nize?”

“Very nice,” I said, gazing at a series of beetle-browed faces with eyes like plums.

“This is my last trip. I go to Amerrrica; to Edie, Pencil-vonya. I lairn rrrradio here on ship. In Amerrrica I will be deesk jockey on rrradio station WLEW in Edie. I spik Eenglees guud, no?”

“No,” I said. “I mean you speak very well. I guess you're the only person on the ship who speaks English.”

Turning up the BBC broadcast to an earsplitting volume, El Greco launched into an endless monologue about himself, about his cousins in Erie, about jazz, about being a disc jockey. After I'd bravely got down the first dose of Retsina, I was given an even larger glassful. I was staggering when I finally left. El Greco was worse.

I went down to the little kiln I called my cabin. There was a note there from Auntie Mame. It read:

Darling Boy—

Don't worry about my protracted absence. I sense that
Rosemarie is shy in my presence. For that reason I'm
remaining in my cabin to give you every chance to carry
on your first
affaire
.
No sacrifice, as I said, is too great.
And missing meals with the captain is no sacrifice
whatsoever.
If you'd like some decent food, come to my cabin.
But I suppose you'd rather be with her. Do, however, be
cautious. I'm not ready to manage another generation
yet.

Love, love, love,
Auntie Mame

Glad that Auntie Mame didn't know how badly my romance was going, I stripped and bathed again. It was so hot that just wallowing in that tepid salt water seemed refreshing. When I came out, I found Dr. Shumway in a most unclerical dressing gown—scarlet sateen—heading for the can. I was still so lovelorn for the sight of Rosemary that even Dr. Shumway seemed an adequate substitute. “Dr. Shumway!” I said, grasping him. I could sense what Auntie Mame meant. “It's so good to see you again. I've been worried. You haven't been to a meal since . . . Well, a long time. And Rosemary . . .”

“Harrumph, uh, she's, uh, fasting, dear boy. Fasting,” he said. Then he brushed past me, went into the bathroom, and locked the door.

I went to my cabin and wrote Rosemary yet another note. It read:

My darling—

Why haven't you seen me or at least answered my notes?
I shall be waiting for you tonight as always.

Your devoted,
Patrick

Then I got into my lightest-weight shirt and trousers and went up to the mess for stew. As I went along our companionway, I saw Ito carrying a tray to Auntie Mame's room. Not far behind him was the Greek steward, now clad in a suit of old B.V.D.'s, taking a much larger tray to Rosemary's room. In the dim light I could hardly see what was on it, but I thought I recognized a roast chicken.

Sick with love and boredom, I stayed out on deck that night waiting for Rosemary. Around eleven I knew it was useless. I was just about to turn in when El Greco came down the rickety ladder leading to the hurricane deck. “Guud eveneeng. You like Ben-nee Guudman? Come up. We have some Rrrretsina.”

Even my cabin seemed better than El Greco's accounts of Sparta, Erie, and his cousins. I begged off and went to bed. When I awoke, the ship was pitching terribly, and great sprays of water were leaking through my porthole. It was also cold. Shivering, I gathered up my shaving things and headed for the bathroom. I got there just in time to see Auntie Mame sway out, pale and shaken.

“Auntie Mame,” I said, “what's the matter. Where have you . . .”

“Oh, Patrick, my little love,” she moaned, “don't even ask me to
speak
. I couldn't be more miserable. Thrown from my bed at four this morning and then buried alive under suitcases. Ohhhhhh.”

The ship gave another heave and we toppled against the bulkhead. “Ohhhhh,” Auntie Mame moaned again, and looked as though she might be terribly sick.

“You should get some air. You haven't stuck your nose out of your cabin for days.”

Again the ship rolled violently, and she clung to me for support. “I was only trying to keep out of your way, my little love. I had my books and Ito to prepare my meals. Oh! Food! How could I even
mention
such a filthy four-letter word. Find out when we're docking at Aden, darling. You can stay aboard if you like, but I'll have to get off.” With that she tottered back to her room.

No one—not even the officers—showed up for breakfast. The sea around us was gray and fierce. There were winds of gale velocity and waves that towered over the deck. Luckily I'm a good sailor, and, since I couldn't eat any of the food anyhow, there was nothing in me to disgorge.

Concerned about Auntie Mame, I went down to her cabin. On the way I passed Rosemary, looking pale and disheveled. “Rosemary,” I cried. “Darling, how . . .”

“Please,” she wailed and staggered into the bathroom. Dr. Shumway was not far behind.

“Gee, Auntie Mame,” I said, tiptoeing into the tiny room where she was tossing and pitching in her bunk. “What can I do for you?” Then I dodged as two or three trunks came sliding across the bare floor toward me.

“Nothing, darling. Nothing but euthanasia. I've always tried to be a good guardian to you, remember that. Ohhhhhhh.”

“It'll be over soon,” I said, trying to stack up her luggage in one corner. It was a hopeless task.

“Don't bother with the bags, Patrick. Just find out when we get to Aden. Dry land and a drink will be enough. You can get off with Ito and me—he's even sicker than I am, if such a thing is possible—or you can stay on this miserable tub if your love affair seems worth it. I've made all the sacrifices to Eros possible. But
do
find out about Aden.”

The only person I could communicate with was El Greco up in the radio shack. Taking my life in my hands, I made it to the hurricane deck. El Greco was lying on his bunk singing along with Tommy Dorsey as his band came crackling over the short wave. He seemed awfully bleary-eyed, and I noticed two empty bottles of Retsina at his side.

“Guud morning,” he said sloppily.