The Blind Barber (23 page)

Nobody knew her, nobody remembered having seen her, when at length in desperation he had dropped the pretext of searching for music-hall talent. On the tempers of some already harassed people, in fact, this latter device had been ill-timed. Its effects on Lord Sturton, on an Anglo-Indian colonel and his lady not yet recovered from
mal-de-mer
, on a D.A.R. from Boston and kindred folk, had been a bouncer’s rush from the cabin before the request was fully out of his mouth. Even Captain Valvick’s easy temper was ruffled by receptions of this kind.

Mrs. Perrigord, on the other hand, had been invaluable. Although she must have been aware that there was more in the tour than Morgan would admit, she had been impassive, helpful, even mildly enthusiastic. She took on herself a duty of cutting things short in a way that the easy-going novelist admired but could not imitate. When a proud mother eagerly went into long explanations of how her daughter Frances, aged nine, could play “Santa’s Sleigh-Bells” on the violin after only six lessons, and how Professor E. L. Kropotkin had confidently predicted a concert future, then Mrs. Perrigord had a trick of saying, “I reolly don’t think we need waste your time,” in a loud, freezing voice which instantly struck dumb the most clamorous. It was an admirably frank trait, but it did not add to Morgan’s comfort through those long, hot, gabbling, foodless hours in which he acquired a distaste for the entire human race.

Mrs. Perrigord did not mind at all. She said she enjoyed it, chatting volubly all the while, and coyly taking Morgan’s arm. Morever, she took quite a fancy to Captain Valvick, who, she confided to Morgan in a loud side-whisper, was so fresh and unspoilt, a definition which the skipper seemed to associate vaguely with fish, and which seemed to fret him a good deal. Another curious, puzzling circumstance was the behaviour of Warren, when they looked in on him in the padded cell just before going down to dinner.

It was growing dark, but he had not switched on the light in his cell. He was lying at full length on the bunk, his face turned to the wall as though he were asleep. In one hand was a closed book with his finger marking the place in the leaves. He breathed deeply.

“Hey!” said Morgan, whistling through the bars. “Curt! Wake up! Listen … !”

Warren did not stir. An uneasy suspicion assailed his friend, but he thought he could see the whisky-bottle also, and it appeared to be only slightly depleted: he could not be drunk. Mrs. Perrigord murmured, “Pooah lad!” The sailor on guard duty, who had respectfully risen, said the gentleman ’ad been like that all afternoon; was exhausted-like.

“Ay don’t like dis,” said Valvick, shaking his head. “A
HOY
!” he roared, and pounded at the bars. “Mr. Warren! A
HOY
!”

The figure moved a little. It raised its head cautiously in the gloom and there was a fiendish expression on its face. Placing a finger on its lips, it hissed “
Sh-h-h!
,” made a fierce gesture for them to go away, and instantly fell somnolent again.

They went. Whatever the meaning of the episode, it was driven from Morgan’s mind by the prospect of food and drink. The fragrance and glitter of the dining-room soothed his rattled nerves; he breathed deeply once more. But—there was nobody whatever at the captain’s table, not even Dr. Kyle. In the middle of the crowd and clatter, every chair remained ominously empty. He stared.

“ … Now you
must
,” Mrs. Perrigord was saying, “you really
must
come and dine at ouah table to-night, you kneow. Whatever is worrying you, Mr. Morgan, I must insist on youah forgetting it. Come!” Her smile became mysterious as she took her rather dazed guests across the room. “Les-leh will not be with us to-night. He will dine on milk and dry biscuit, and prepare himself foah his talk.” She leaned close to Morgan. “My husband, you know, has rather extraordinary principles, Mr. Morgan. But I, on the othah hand—”

Again she smiled. That was how she came to order champagne.

After the soup, Morgan felt a warmth steal through him. After the fish, his wolfish silence began to wear thin and his spirits stirred from their depths. In the midst of a tender steak, done rare between crisp marks on the grill and smoking between those smooth-slipping chipped potatoes whose edges have no hardness, he suddenly felt a pleased sense of relaxation. The music of the orchestra did not sound far away, and he rather liked the appearance of the faces about him. Life looked less like a heap of unwashed dishes, and the warm lights were comforting. Champagne nipped warm and soothing. Captain Valvick said, “Ahh-h!” on a long-drawn note. When the steak disappeared, to be replaced by mysteriously tinted ice-cream and smoking black coffee, his spirits commenced to soar. He appreciated the noise that people were making around him. The champagne nestled through his innards, causing him to beam round on Mrs. Perrigord and the captain; to find himself keeping time with his foot when a reckless orchestra ventured into Gilbert and Sullivan.

“Ta-ti-ta-ta-ta, ti-ta-ta-ta-
ti
; sing, ‘Willow, tit-willow, tit-willow,’” murmured Henry Morgan, wagging his head expansively. He smiled, and Mrs. Perrigord spread effulgence in reply. “‘Iss it veakness of intellect, birdie, ay cried—!’” whoomed Captain Valvick, drawing back his chin for a thoughtful rumble; “‘Or a tough worm in youah little in-side—’” gently speculated Mrs. Perrigord, beginning to giggle; and all three together, inspired with a surge of mirth, whirled out together:

“With a shake of his poor little head he replied,

“‘Willow,

“‘Tit-willow,

“‘Tit-willow!’ (W
HEE
!)”

“Oh, I say, you know,” protested Mrs. Perrigord, whose face was growing rather flushed and her voice more loud, “we reolly shouldn’t be doing this at oll, should we? Oh, I
say!
Heh-heh-heh! Shall we have anothah bottle?” she beamed on them.

“You yust bet we do!” boomed Captain Valvick. “And diss one iss on me. Steward!” A cork popped, pale smoke sizzled, and they raised glasses. “Ay got a toast ay like to giff … ”

“Oh, I say, you know, I reolly mustn’t!” breathed Mrs. Perrigord, putting her hand against her breast; “just fancy! What would deah Les-leh say? But if you two positively outrageous people positively insist, you know … Heh-heh-heh! Here’s loud cheaahs!”

“What I mean to say is this,” said Morgan vigorously. “If there’s any toast to be drunk, first off there ought to be a toast drunk to Mrs. Perrigord, Skipper. She’s been the best sport in the world this afternoon, Skipper, and I’d like to see anybody deny it. She came with us on a fool’s errand, and never asked one question. So what I propose—”

He was speaking rather loudly, but he would not have been heard in any case. The entire dining-saloon had begun to converse in an almost precisely similar vein, with the exception of one or two crusty spoilsports who stared in growing amazement. They could not understand, and would go to their graves without the ability to understand, that mysterious spirit which suddenly strikes and galvanises ocean liners for no reason discernible to the eye. Laughter in varying tones broke like rockets over the tumult; sniggers, giggles, guffaws, excited chuckles growing and rushing. More corks popped and stewards flew. It being against the rules to smoke in the dining-saloon, for the first time a mist of smoke began to rise. The orchestra smashed into a rollicking air out of
The Prince of Pisen
; then the perspiring leader came to the rail of the balcony and bowed to a roar of applause, dashed back and whipped his minions into another. Jewels began to wink as total strangers drifted to one another’s tables, made appointments, gesticulated, argued whether they should stay here or go up to the bar; and Henry Morgan ordered a third bottle of champagne.

“ … Oh, no, but I say, reolly!” cried Mrs. Perrigord, sitting back in a sort of coy alarm and talking still more loudly, “you mustn’t! You two outrageous people are positively outrageous, you know! It’s simply dreadful how you take advantage of a pooah, weak woman who—” gurgle, gurgle, gurgle—“it’s reolly lovely champagne, isn’t it?—who can’t defend herself, you know. Just fancy, you wicked men, I shall be positively
tight
, you know. And that would be owful, wouldn’t it?” She laughed delightedly. “Simply screamingly, deliciously owful if I am tight when I am tight, and—”

“What ay say iss diss,” declared Captain Valvick, tapping the table and speaking in a confidential roar. “De champagne iss all right. Ay got not’ing against de champagne. But it iss not a man’s drink. It do not put hair on de chest. What we want to drink iss Old Rob Roy. Ay tell you what. After we finish diss bottle we go up to de bar and we order Old Rob Roy and we start a poker game … ”

“ … but I say, you mustn’t be so owfully, owfully
formal
,” said Mrs. Perrigord chidingly. “
Henry.
Theah! I’ve said it, haven’t I? Oh, deah me! And now you’ll think I’m positively”—gurgle, gurgle, gurgle—“positively
dreadful
, won’t you? But I have so
many
things I should like to discuss with you, you know … ”

A new voice chirped:

“Hullo!”

Morgan started up, rather guiltily, to see Peggy Glenn, in a green evening gown that looked rather disarranged, negotiating the last step of the staircase and bearing down on them. She was beaming seraphically, and something in her gait as she moved through the layers of smoke struck Morgan’s eye even out of a warmth of champagne. Mrs. Perrigord turned. “Why, my deah!” she cried, with unexpected and loud affection. “Oh, how reolly, reolly
wonderful!
Oh, do, do come heah! It’s simply wonderful to see you looking so spic hic, so so sick and span after oll those owful things that happened to you last night whee! And—”

“Darling!” cried Peggy ecstatically.

“Peggy,” said Morgan, fixing her with a stern eye, “Peggy, you—have—been—drinking.”

“Hoo!” cried Peggy, lifting her arm with a conquering gesture by way of emphasis. Her eyes were bright and pleased.

“
Why
have you been drinking?”

“Why not?” inquired Peggy, with the air of one clinching a point.

“Well then,” said Morgan magnanimously, “have another. Pour her a glass of fizz, Skipper. All I thought was after all that bawling and screaming this afternoon—”

“
Who
bawled and screamed this afternoon?”

“You did. You bawled and screamed this afternoon about Curt being shut up in a foul dungeon with the rats, and—”

“I hate him!” Peggy said passionately. She became tense and fierce, and moisture came into her eyes. “I hate and loathe him and despise him, that’s what I do. I don’t ever want to hear his name again, ever, ever, ever! Gimme a drink.”

“My God!” said Morgan, starting up. “What’s happened
now
?”

“Ooo, how I loathe him! He wouldn’t even speak to me, the f-filthy w-wretch,” she said, her lip trembling. Don’t ever mention his name again, Hank. I’ll get blind, speechless drunk, that’s what I’ll do, and
that’ll
show him, it will, and I hope the rats gnaw him, too. And I had a big basket of fruit for him, and all he did was lie there and pretend he was asleep, that’s what he did; and I said, ‘All right!,’ so I went upstairs and I met Leslie—Mr. Perrigord—and he said, would I like to listen to his speech? And I said yes, if he didn’t mind my drinking, and he said he never touched spirits, but he didn’t mind if I did; so we sort of went to his cabin—”

“H
AVE ANOTHER DRINK
, M
RS.
P
ERRIGORD
—C
YNTHIA
!” roared Morgan, to drown out the possibilities of this. “Pour everybody a drink. Ha-ha!”

“But, Henry!” crowed Mrs. Perrigord, opening her eyes wide, “I think it’s p-perfectly wonderful, reolly, and so screamingly funny, don’t you know, because oll deah Leslie evah does is tolk, you see, and the pooah darling must have been most dreadfully disappointed. Whee!” Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle.

“Ay like to see de young foolks have a good time,” observed Captain Valvick affably.

“ … and for Curt to act like that just when everything was nice and arranged for the performance to-night, when I’d finally succeeded in keeping Uncle Jules sober! And it
was
such a ghastly task, you know,” explained Peggy, wrinkling up her face to keep back the tears, “because four separate times I caught him trying to sneak out after that horrible old G
IN
!” The thought of that horrible old gin almost overcame her with tears, but she turned a grim if wrinkled face steadily towards them. “But at last I made him see reason, and everything was all right, and he came down here in lovely shape to the dining-room to eat his dinner, and everything is nice—”

“Your Uncle Jules,” said Morgan thoughtfully, in the midst of a curious silence, “came down
where
to eat his dinner?”

“Why, down here! And—”

“No, he didn’t,” said Morgan.

Peggy whirled round. Slowly, painstakingly, with misted eyes and lips slowly opening, she scanned the dining-saloon inch by inch. Babble and riot flowed there under a fog of smoke; but Uncle Jules was not there. Peggy hesitated. Then she sat down at the table and burst into sobs.

“Come on!” said Morgan, leaping to his feet. “Come on, Skipper! There’s a chance to salvage the wreck if we work fast. He’ll be in the bar if he’s anywhere … How long’s he been on the loose, Peggy?”

“Th-thrree-qu-quarr
bolooo
!” sobbed Peggy, beating her hands against her forehead. “And only an hour unt-t-il the
bolooo
. Oh, w-why w-was the aw-ful st-stuff ever invented, and w-why do beastly m-men drink—?”

“Can he drink much in three quarters of an hour?”

“G-gallons,” said Peggy. “
Whoooo!
”

“My de-deah,” cried Mrs. Perrigord, the tears starting to her own eyes, “do you reolly mean that that
cher
M’skieux Fortinbras has really m’uskic, hie, has reolly got himskehelp
tight?
Oh, my deah, the horrible, ow-ful, drunken—”

“Lady, lady,” thundered Captain Valvick, hammering the table, “ay tell you diss is no time for a crying yag! Come on, Mr. Morgan; you take care of one and ay take care of de odder. Stop it, bot’ of you! Come on now … ”