THE HIGH SEA
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rosary, and she kissed this before she kissed the Crucifix.
Wilhelm Freytag woke feeling a cooler, fresher wind blowing
upon his face. The round bit of horizon shone through the port hole,
not clear but a thick cloudy blue. They were six days out, yes, this
was Saturday and the ship had settled to her speed such as it was
in a beeline across the waters, already, he noticed, putting out
his
head, a little troubled. It was real sea air, thick yet sweet and mild,
and long sooty streamers of cloud trailed from deep blue thunder
banks to the east. It seemed late, perhaps he had missed breakfast.
The ship's bell clanged. Eight o'clock; time enough if he speeded up
a little. Hansen would miss it though. The breathing of deepest
slumber stirred behind the curtain, and Hansen's huge feet, with
smooth glossy soles and assertive great toes standing apart from the
others, stuck out of the bunk as usual. Freytag wondered how he •
managed in cold weather, and remembered being half-wakened by
the noise of Hansen scrambling into bed at what must have been a
very late hour.. .. Probably up to something with that Spanish girl
he had been dogging from the first.
While he shaved he looked at his ties and selected one, thinking
that people on voyage never behave quite as they do on dry land;
but nearly always worse or better, and either way, the smallest act
shows up more clearly and suffers a sea change, because it has lost
its background. The train of events leading up to and explaining it
is not there, you can't refer back and set it in its proper size and
place. You might learn something about one or two persons, if you
took time and trouble, but fhere was not time enough and it was not
worth the trouble; not even that American girl, Jenny Brown, was
interesting enough to try to know better. By herself, a nice person,
he felt certain; good dancer and full of lively talk that amused you
at the moment and didn't mean anything afterward. But that strange
·young man she was living with gave her personality a dubious cast.
What he, Freytag, liked from strangers was an amiable indifference,
a superficial pleasantness. This was quite enough for any voyage, any
evening at all among strangers, but it is just these things that too
many persons know nothing about, he said, by now carrying on a
silent, internal conversation with Mary. People on a boat, Mary,
can't seem to find any middle ground between stiffness, distrust,
suspicion, or a kind of gnawing curiosity. Sometimes it's friendly
enough curiosity, sometimes sly and malicious, but you feel as if you
were being eaten alive by little fishes. I've never been on a boat,
remember, said Mary. Ah, but you will be soon, you will be. Would
you believe, I danced with the girl, her name was J enny Brown, and
