The Complete Short Stories of W. Somerset Maugham - II - The World Over (104 page)

The captain assumed his most official manner. His eyes, which generally twinkled with fun, were stern and he got a sort of bark into his rich, fruity voice.

“Although this is a cargo-boat and we carry valuable freight, we also take such passengers as we can get, and this is a branch of our business that the company is anxious to encourage. My instructions are to do everything possible to promote the happiness and comfort of the passengers. Miss Reid needs a lover. The doctor and I have come to the conclusion that you are well suited to satisfy Miss Reid’s requirements.”

“Me, sir?”

The radio-operator blushed scarlet and then began to giggle, but quickly composed himself when he saw the set faces of the three men who confronted him.

“But she’s old enough to be my mother.”

“That at your age is a matter of no consequence. She is a woman of the highest distinction and allied to all the great families of England. If she were German she would be at least a countess. That you should have been chosen for this responsible position is an honour that you should greatly appreciate. Furthermore, your English is halting and this will give you an excellent opportunity to improve it.”

“That of course is something to be thought of,” said the radio-operator. “I know that I want practice.”

“It is not often in this life that it is possible to combine pleasure with intellectual improvement, and you must congratulate yourself on your good fortune.”

“But if I may be allowed to put the question, sir, why does Miss Reid want a lover?”

“It appears to be an old English custom for unmarried women of exalted rank to submit themselves to the embraces of a lover at this time of year. The company is anxious that Miss Reid should be treated exactly as she would be on an English ship, and we trust that if she is satisfied, with her aristocratic connexions she will be able to persuade many of her friends to take cruises in the line’s ships.”

“Sir, I must ask to be excused.”

“It is not a request that I am making, it is an order. You will present yourself to Miss Reid, in her cabin, at eleven o’clock tonight.”

“What shall I do when I get there?”

“Do?” thundered the captain. “Do? Act naturally.”

With a wave of the hand he dismissed him. The radio-operator clicked his heels, saluted, and went out.

“Now let us have another glass of beer,” said the captain.

At supper that evening Miss Reid was at her best. She was verbose. She was playful. She was refined. There was not a truism that she failed to utter. There was not a commonplace that she forebore to express. She bombarded them with foolish questions. The captain’s face grew redder and redder as he sought to contain his fury; he felt that he could not go on being polite to her any longer and if the doctor’s remedy did not help, one day he would forget himself and give her, not a piece, but the whole of his mind.

“I shall lose my job,” he thought, “but I’m not sure that it wouldn’t be worth it.”

Next day they were already sitting at table when she came in to dinner.

“Sylvester Abend tomorrow,” she said, brightly. That was the sort of thing she would say. She went on: “Well, what have you all been up to this morning?”

Since they did exactly the same thing every day, and she knew very well what that was, the question was enraging. The captain’s heart sank. He briefly told the doctor what he thought of him.

“Now, no German, please,” said Miss Reid archly. “You know I don’t allow that, and why, Captain, did you give the poor doctor that sour look? It’s Christmas time, you know; peace and goodwill to all men. I’m so excited about tomorrow evening, and will there be candles on the Christmas tree?”

“Naturally.”

“How thrilling! I always think a Christmas tree without candles isn’t a Christmas tree. Oh, d’you know, I had such a funny experience last night. I can’t understand it at all.”

A startled pause. They all looked intently at Miss Reid. For once they hung on her lips.

“Yes,” she went on in that monotonous, rather finicking way of hers, “I was just getting into bed last night when there was a knock at my door. ‘Who is it?’ I said. ‘It’s the radio-operator,’ was the answer. ‘What is it?’ I said. ‘Can I speak to you?’ he said.”

They listened with rapt attention.

“‘Well, I’ll just pop on a dressing-gown,’ I said, ‘and open the door.’ So I popped on a dressing-gown and opened the door. The radio-operator said: ‘Excuse me, miss, but do you want to send a radio?’ Well, I did think it was funny his coming at that hour to ask me if I wanted to send a radio, I just laughed in his face, it appealed to my sense of humour if you understand what I mean, but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings so I said: ‘Thank you so much, but I don’t think I want to send a radio.’ He stood there, looking so funny, as if he was quite embarrassed, so I said: ‘Thank you all the same for asking me,’ and then I said ‘Good night, pleasant dreams’, and shut the door.”

“The damned fool,” cried the captain.

“He’s young, Miss Reid,” the doctor put in. “It was excess of zeal. I suppose he thought you would want to send a New Year’s greeting to your friends and he wished you to get the advantage of the special rate.”

“Oh, I didn’t mind at all. I like these queer little things that happen to one when one’s travelling. I just get a good laugh out of them.”

As soon as dinner was over and Miss Reid had left them the captain sent for the radio-operator.

“You idiot, what in heaven’s name made you ask Miss Reid last night whether she wanted to send a radio?”

“Sir, you told me to act naturally. I am a radio-operator. I thought it natural to ask her if she wanted to send a radio. I didn’t know what else to say.”

“God in heaven,” shouted the captain, “when Siegfried saw Brunhilde lying on her rock and cried:
Das ist kein Mann,”
(the captain sang the words, and being pleased with the sound of his voice, repeated the phrase two or three times before he continued), “did Siegfried when she awoke ask her if she wished to send a radio, to announce to her papa, I suppose, that she was sitting up after her long sleep and taking notice?”

“I beg most respectfully to draw your attention to the fact that Brunhilde was Siegfried’s aunt. Miss Reid is a total stranger to me.”

“He did not reflect that she was his aunt. He knew only that she was a beautiful and defenceless woman of obviously good family and he acted as any gentleman would have done. You are young, handsome, Aryan to the tips of your fingers, the honour of Germany is in your hands.”

“Very good, sir. I will do my best.”

That night there was another knock on Miss Reid’s door. “Who is it?”

“The radio-operator. I have a radio for you, Miss Reid.”

“For me?” She was surprised, but it at once occurred to her that one of her fellow-passengers who had got off at Haiti had sent her New Year’s greetings. “How very kind people are,” she thought. “I’m in bed. Leave it outside the door.”

“It needs an answer. Ten words prepaid.”

Then it couldn’t be a New Year’s greeting. Her heart stopped beating. It could only mean one thing; her shop had been burned to the ground. She jumped out of bed.

“Slip it under the door and I’ll write the answer and slip it back to you.”

The envelope was pushed under the door and as it appeared on the carpet it had really a sinister look. Miss Reid snatched it up and tore the envelope open. The words swam before her eyes and she couldn’t for a moment find her spectacles. This is what she read:

“Happy New Year. Stop. Peace and goodwill to all men. Stop. You are very beautiful. Stop. I love you. Stop. I must speak to you. Stop. Signed: Radio Operator.”

Miss Reid read this through twice. Then she slowly took off her spectacles and hid them under a scarf. She opened the door. “Come in,” she said.

Next day was New Year’s Eve. The officers were cheerful and a little sentimental when they sat down to dinner. The stewards had decorated the saloon with tropical creepers to make up for holly and mistletoe, and the Christmas tree stood on a table with the candles ready to be lit at supper time. Miss Reid did not come in till the officers were seated, and when they bade her good morning she did not speak but merely bowed. They looked at her curiously. She ate a good dinner, but uttered never a word. Her silence was uncanny. At last the captain could stand it no longer, and he said:

“You’re very quiet today, Miss Reid.”

“I’m thinking,” she remarked.

“And will you not tell us your thoughts, Miss Reid?” the doctor asked playfully.

She gave him a cool, you might almost have called it a supercilious, look.

“I prefer to keep them to myself, Doctor. I will have a little more of that hash, I’ve got a very good appetite.”

They finished the meal in a blessed silence. The captain heaved a sigh of relief. That was what meal-time was for, to eat, not to chatter. When they had finished he went up to the doctor and wrung his hand.

“Something has happened, Doctor.”

“It has happened. She’s a changed woman.”

“But will it last?”

“One can only hope for the best.”

Miss Reid put on an evening dress for the evening’s celebration, a very quiet black dress, with artificial roses at her bosom and a long string of imitation jade round her neck. The lights were dimmed and the candles on the Christmas tree were lit. It felt a little like being in church. The junior officers were supping in the saloon that evening and they looked very smart in their white uniforms. Champagne was served at the company’s expense and after supper they had a
Maibowle.
They pulled crackers. They sang songs to the gramophone,
Deutschland, Deutschland uber Alles, Alt Heidelberg,
and
Auld Lang Syne.
They shouted out the tunes lustily, the captain’s voice rising loud above the others, and Miss Reid joining in with a pleasing contralto. The doctor noticed that Miss Reid’s eyes from time to time rested on the radio-operator, and in them he read an expression of some bewilderment.

“He’s a good-looking fellow, isn’t he?” said the doctor.

Miss Reid turned round and looked at the doctor coolly.

“Who?”

“The radio-operator. I thought you were looking at him.”

“Which is he?”

“The duplicity of women,” the doctor muttered, but with a smile he answered: “He’s sitting next to the chief engineer.”

“Oh, of course, I recognize him now. You know, I never think it matters what a man looks like. I’m so much more interested in a man’s brains than in his looks.”

“Ah,” said the doctor.

They all got a little tight, including Miss Reid, but she did not lose her dignity and when she bade them good night it was in her best manner.

“I’ve had a very delightful evening. I shall never forget my New Year’s Eve on a German boat. It’s been very interesting. Quite an experience.”

She walked steadily to the door, and this was something of a triumph, for she had drunk drink for drink with the rest of them through the evening.

They were all somewhat jaded next day. When the captain, the mate, the doctor, and the chief engineer came down to dinner they found Miss Reid already seated. Before each place was a small parcel tied up in pink ribbon. On each was written: Happy New Year. They gave Miss Reid a questioning glance.

“You’ve all been so very kind to me I thought I’d like to give each of you a little present. There wasn’t much choice at Port au Prince, so you mustn’t expect too much.”

There was a pair of briar pipes for the captain, half a dozen silk handkerchiefs for the doctor, a cigar-case for the mate, and a couple of ties for the chief engineer. They had dinner and Miss Reid retired to her cabin to rest. The officers looked at one another uncomfortably. The mate fiddled with the cigar-case she had given him.

“I’m a little ashamed of myself,” he said at last.

The captain was pensive and it was plain that he too was a trifle uneasy.

“I wonder if we ought to have played that trick on Miss Reid,” he said. “She’s a good old soul and she’s not rich; she’s a woman who earns her own living. She must have spent the best part of a hundred marks on these presents. I almost wish we’d left her alone.”

The doctor shrugged his shoulders.

“You wanted her silenced and I’ve silenced her.”

“When all’s said and done, it wouldn’t have hurt us to listen to her chatter for three weeks more,” said the mate.

“I’m not happy about her,” added the captain. “I feel there’s something ominous in her quietness.”

She had spoken hardly a word during the meal they had just shared with her. She seemed hardly to listen to what they said.

“Don’t you think you ought to ask her if she’s feeling quite well, doctor?” suggested the captain.

“Of course she’s feeling quite well. She’s eating like a wolf. If you want inquiries made you’d much better make them of the radio-operator.”

“You may not be aware of it, Doctor, but I am a man of great delicacy.”

“I am a man of heart myself,” said the doctor.