They went on board that morning. The Ferndale had just come to her
loading berth. The only living creature on board was the
ship-keeper--whether the same who had been described to us by Mr. Powell,
or another, I don't know. Possibly some other man. He, looking over the
side, saw, in his own words, 'the captain come sailing round the corner
of the nearest cargo-shed, in company with a girl.' He lowered the
accommodation ladder down on to the jetty . . . "
"How do you know all this?" I interrupted.
Marlow interjected an impatient:
"You shall see by and by . . . Flora went up first, got down on deck and
stood stock-still till the captain took her by the arm and led her aft.
The ship-keeper let them into the saloon. He had the keys of all the
cabins, and stumped in after them. The captain ordered him to open all
the doors, every blessed door; state-rooms, passages, pantry,
fore-cabin--and then sent him away.
"The Ferndale had magnificent accommodation. At the end of a passage
leading from the quarter-deck there was a long saloon, its sumptuosity
slightly tarnished perhaps, but having a grand air of roominess and
comfort. The harbour carpets were down, the swinging lamps hung, and
everything in its place, even to the silver on the sideboard. Two large
stern cabins opened out of it, one on each side of the rudder casing.
These two cabins communicated through a small bathroom between them, and
one was fitted up as the captain's state-room. The other was vacant, and
furnished with arm-chairs and a round table, more like a room on shore,
except for the long curved settee following the shape of the ship's
stern. In a dim inclined mirror, Flora caught sight down to the waist of
a pale-faced girl in a white straw hat trimmed with roses, distant,
shadowy, as if immersed in water, and was surprised to recognize herself
in those surroundings. They seemed to her arbitrary, bizarre, strange.
Captain Anthony moved on, and she followed him. He showed her the other
cabins. He talked all the time loudly in a voice she seemed to have
known extremely well for a long time; and yet, she reflected, she had not
heard it often in her life. What he was saying she did not quite follow.
He was speaking of comparatively indifferent things in a rather moody
tone, but she felt it round her like a caress. And when he stopped she
could hear, alarming in the sudden silence, the precipitated beating of
her heart.
The ship-keeper dodged about the quarter-deck, out of hearing, and trying
to keep out of sight. At the same time, taking advantage of the open
doors with skill and prudence, he could see the captain and "that girl"
the captain had brought aboard. The captain was showing her round very
thoroughly. Through the whole length of the passage, far away aft in the
perspective of the saloon the ship-keeper had interesting glimpses of
them as they went in and out of the various cabins, crossing from side to
side, remaining invisible for a time in one or another of the
state-rooms, and then reappearing again in the distance. The girl,
always following the captain, had her sunshade in her hands. Mostly she
would hang her head, but now and then she would look up. They had a lot
to say to each other, and seemed to forget they weren't alone in the
ship. He saw the captain put his hand on her shoulder, and was preparing
himself with a certain zest for what might follow, when the "old man"
seemed to recollect himself, and came striding down all the length of the
saloon. At this move the ship-keeper promptly dodged out of sight, as
you may believe, and heard the captain slam the inner door of the
passage. After that disappointment the ship-keeper waited resentfully
for them to clear out of the ship. It happened much sooner than he had
expected. The girl walked out on deck first. As before she did not look
round. She didn't look at anything; and she seemed to be in such a hurry
to get ashore that she made for the gangway and started down the ladder
without waiting for the captain.