wakened by a loud-voiced intimation that all crimson-hued Dagoes must rouse themselves if they didn’t want to be stirred up by a hose-pipe. Now, if there was one thing more than another that Maseden liked when on board ship, it was a cold salt-water bath. But he dared neither take a bath nor wash his face. Personal cleanliness is not a marked characteristic of South American cowboys. That he should display close-cropped hair instead of an abundance of oiled and curly tresses was a fact singular enough in itself, without inviting attention by the use of soap and water. Perforce, he remained filthy. The captain’s hint was very much to the point. The Southern Cross was not a regular passenger boat. Primarily a trader, carrying nitrate or grain to home ports, and coal thence to various points on the southern or western [Pg 66]seaboard of South America, she was equipped with a few cabins, about a dozen all told, on the upper deck. [Pg 66] The so-called second-class accommodation was several degrees worse than the steerage on a crack Atlantic liner. That is to say, the human freight ranked a long way after cargo. The food was plentiful, though rough. Even for saloon passengers there was neither stewardess nor doctor. As a matter of course, a passenger list would be an absurdity. The chief steward acted as purser, and knew the names of all on board after five minutes’ study of his ledger. Passengers and ship’s officers soon became acquainted. Within twenty-four hours Maseden had ascertained that a Mr. James Gray, with his two daughters, occupied staterooms; but, for the life of him, he could not learn the ladies’ Christian names. He cudgeled his brains to try and remember whether or not his “wife” had signed the register as Madeleine Gray; but the effort failed completely. He knew why, for the best of reasons; yet the knowledge did not render failure less tantalizing. It is one thing to be dazzled by the prospect of escape from the seeming certainty of death within a few minutes, but quite another to be on the same ship as the lady you have married [Pg 67]two days earlier, yet neither know her name nor be positive as to her identity. [Pg 67] This, however, was literally Maseden’s predicament when chance favored him with a long, steady look at the Misses Gray. He could not be mistaken,
Prev.
Back
Top