Chapter 10 Chapter nine

(reply to Annie's narrative) It's a real shame that the heroine is seasick.The heroine in the books is that the harder the boat rocks, the more she likes it.When everyone was dizzy, she was the only one who staggered alone on the deck, facing everything bravely and rejoicing in having the storm.I was so ashamed that when the "Gilmorden" shook for the first time, I turned pale and hurried into the cabin.A kind waitress helped me and suggested dry toast and ginger beer. I lay in my cabin and vomited for three days.My purpose has been forgotten, I have no interest in unlocking the secret.Now Anne is completely different from the Anne who hurried home from the shipping company, bouncing and jumping all the way, ecstatic.

Now I think back to the day when I suddenly burst into the living room, and I can't help laughing.Mrs. Fleming was there by herself.When I went in, she turned her head. "Annie dear, is that you? I have something to talk to you about." "Oh?" I said, trying to calm myself down. "Miss Emily is leaving." Miss Emily was the butler.Since you haven't had a good time finding something to do, I don't know if you'd mind--it would be nice if you stayed with us! I was moved.She doesn't want me, I know that.It was only Christian mercy that prompted this suggestion.I am ashamed of criticizing her privately.I stood up and ran impulsively, wrapping my arms around her neck.

"It's very kind of you," I said, "very nice, nice, nice! Thank you very much. But never mind, I'm leaving on Saturday and going to South Africa." My pounce startled the good woman.She was not used to sudden displays of affection.And what I said shocked her even more. "To South Africa? My dear Anne. We must look into the matter carefully." This is the last thing on my mind.I explained that I had arranged the journey and that once there I would be the maid.That's the only thing I can come up with at the moment.I said South Africa is in great need of maids.I assured her that I could take care of myself, and finally, she shook off my anger with a sigh, accepting my plan without further questioning.When parting, she stuffed an envelope in my hand.Inside I found five pristine five-pound notes and the postscript: "I hope you don't take this offence, and accept a little from me." She was a very nice, kind woman.I couldn't continue to live in the same house with her, but I knew her intrinsic value.

So I went on board, with twenty-five pounds in my pocket, to face the world, and at the same time follow the story of my adventure. On the fourth day, the maid finally urged me to go on deck.I said I would rather die in the cabin than leave my berth.Now she seduced me by taking me on an expedition to Madeira.Hope rose in my heart.I can go ashore from the ship and work as a maid there.Anything is fine, as long as you set foot on dry and hard land. Wrapped in a coat and blanket, with feet as limp as a sick cat, I was hauled up, like a sluggish flesh, and set down on a deck chair.I lay there with my eyes closed, cursing life.The ship's purser—a young man with blond hair and a baby face—comes over and sits beside me.

"Hey! A little self-pity, isn't it?" "Yes," I replied, hating him. "Ah, it won't be like this in a day or two. The ship is still in the bay, billowing with smoke and dust, but the weather will be mild in the future. Tomorrow, I will take you to play ring-throwing on the deck." I didn't answer. "You're thinking you'll never recover, huh? I've seen people in worse situations than you, but two days later, they're the life and soul of this ship, and you will be the same." I'm not strong enough to tell him he's a liar.I glanced at him.He continued to chat pleasantly for a few minutes, then happily left.People came and went, nimble couples in motion, children prancing, young people laughing.A handful of pale sufferers, like me, lay on deck chairs.

The air was cool and crisp, and the sun was shining brightly.I unconsciously felt a little elated.I started paying attention to people.One woman in particular attracted me.She was about thirty years old, of medium build, with a round dimpled face and very blue eyes.Her clothes, though plain, were Parisian in their tailoring.And, look at her happy and poised, as if she owns the boat! The waiters on the deck ran around at her beck and call.She sat in a special deck chair with a comfortable cushion.She changed her mind three times about where to put the cushions.She has that cute and charming attitude about everything.She seemed to be one of the rarest people in the world who knew what they wanted, knew they could get it, and set out to get it without offending anyone.I thought if I could recover - but of course I can't - it would be very pleasant to talk to her.

Around noon, we arrived in Madeira Islands.I was still too weak to move, but I had the pleasure of watching the picturesque merchants come aboard and display their wares on deck.There are also flowers in it.I buried my nostrils in a large bouquet of sweet violets and felt better.In fact, I already feel like I can make it through the entire voyage.When the waitress told me to bring me some chicken soup, I only slightly refused.After she brought it, I drank it with relish. The woman who drew me came ashore.She came back escorted by a tall, dark-haired, brass-faced, military-looking man whom I had noticed earlier walking up and down the deck and cabin.I immediately recognized him as one of the "strong and silent Rhodesians".He was about forty, with gray hair at the temples, and the handsomest man on board.

When the maid brought me another blanket, I asked her who the charming woman was. "That's the famous society lady, Mrs. Clarence Blair. You must have read about her in the papers." I nodded and looked at her with renewed interest.Mrs. Blair is indeed famous for being the smartest woman of my time.I'm a little pleased to note that she's the center of attention.There were some who tried to get acquainted with her informally because of the convenience of the ship.I admire the polite way she dismisses them.She seemed to have appointed the strong, silent man as her special protector, and he was unaware of his privilege.

To my surprise, the next morning, after walking around the deck a few times with her partner, Mrs Blair stopped by my chair. "Are you feeling better this morning?" I thanked her and said at the same time that I felt a little more human. "You did look ill yesterday. Colonel Race and I thought we'd be in for a funeral at sea—but you've let us down." I laughed. "Come up and get some air, it makes me feel better." "There's nothing like fresh air," said Colonel Race, smiling. "It's suffocating to be shut up in that airtight cabin," said Mrs. Blair, taking her seat next to me, and dismissing her companion with a slight nod. "I hope you've moved to an outer cabin?"

I shake my head. "My dear girl! Why don't you change? There are plenty of rooms. Lots of people disembarking in Madeira, and there's a lot of space. Tell the purser he's a nice little boy--he changed me A nice room, because I didn't like the old one. You tell him at lunch." I shrugged. "I can't move." "Don't be silly. Now get up and walk with me." She smiled and encouraged me with dimples.At first I felt very weak in my legs, but as we walked up and down with ease, I felt better. After a lap or two, Colonel Race joined us again.

"You can see the peak of Tenerife from the other side." "Really? Do you think I can take a picture?" "No—but that doesn't mean you can't take a snapshot." Mrs. Blair laughed. "You're bad. Some of my pictures are good." "Only about three percent of the time, I should say." We all walked to the other side of the deck.There, through the fine rose-coloured haze, the white shimmering peak could be seen.I cheered loudly with joy.Mrs. Blair ran to get her camera. Unaffected by Colonel Race's taunting criticism, she struggled to take snapshots. "Hey, the film is over." Her tone changed into disappointment and annoyance, "It's always such a bad luck." "I always enjoy watching little kids playing with new toys," the colonel said. "You're a nuisance—I've got another roll, though." She took another roll of negatives from her coat pocket.At this time, the ship's hull shook suddenly, causing her to lose her balance. When she quickly grabbed the cable with her hands, the roll of negative film fell. "Ah!" exclaimed Mrs. Blair in alarm.She leaned out and looked down. "Do you think it fell into the sea?" "No, you might be lucky enough to end up with an unlucky steward on the bottom deck." At some point a little boy came a few steps behind us and blew a deafening horn. "It's time for lunch!" Mrs. Blair said ecstatically, "I haven't eaten anything since breakfast, except for two glasses of beef gravy. Miss Beddingfield, how about lunch?" "Uh," I said hesitantly, "well, I do feel a little hungry." "Great. You'll be at the purser's table, I know. Talk to him about changing cabins." I found the restaurant and started wolfing down a large plate of food.My friend yesterday congratulated me on my recovery.He said everyone would change cabins today and my stuff would be moved to the outer cabin as quickly as possible. There were only four of us at the table, me, two older ladies, and a priest who talked a lot about "our poor fellow Negroes." I looked around at the tables around me.Mrs. Blair sat at the captain's table, with Colonel Race next to her.On the captain's other side sat a well-groomed gray-haired man. I had noticed many people on deck, but one who had not been seen before was unlikely to have escaped my notice, if he had.He was a tall, dark man with a sinister face, which shocked me quite a bit.I was a little curious and asked the purser who he was. "That man? Oh, that's Sir Eustace Peterler's secretary. Poor chap, very sea-sick and never seen. Sir Eustace had two secretaries, both of whom gave The storm is all over. The other one is not getting better, this one's name is Pagett." It seems that Sir Peterler, the owner of The Mill, is on board, perhaps it's just a coincidence, but— "That's Sir Eustace," continued my agent, "sitting next to the captain. Pompous old ass." The more I study that secretary's face, the less I like it.The excessively pale face, the hidden secrets, the thick-lidded eyes, the strangely flat head—everything made me sick and terrified. I left the mess room at the same time as him, and followed him to the deck.He spoke to Sir Eustace, and I heard a word or two at a distance. "May I check the cabin right away? Your cabin is so full of luggage that you can't work." "My good secretary," replied Eustace, "my cabin is where I sleep and change my clothes. I never asked you to type and make annoying ghost noises in it." "That's what I mean, Sir Eustace, we must have a place to work—" At this point I left them and went down to see if my migration was already in progress.I noticed that the waiter was busy moving my things. "Very good cabin, miss, on the fourth floor, room thirteen." "Oh no!" I exclaimed. "Not number thirteen." "Thirteen" is a number I am superstitious about.That's a good cabin.I looked, hesitated, but stupid superstition prevailed.I begged the waiter almost in tears. "Is there no other room I can change?" The waiter thought about it. "Well, there's No. 17, just off the port side. That room was vacant this morning, but I think it may have been assigned to someone else. However, since the gentleman's things haven't been moved in yet, and the gentleman won't be like Ladies are generally superstitious, and I suppose he wouldn't mind a change." I cried out gratefully, and the waiter went to ask the purser for permission.He grinned back and said: "No problem, miss. We can move in." He led the way to room seventeen.It's not as spacious as Thirteen, but I'm fine with it. "I'll get your things right away, miss," said the waiter. But then the guy with the sinister face appeared in the aisle. "Excuse me," said he, "this cabin is reserved for Sir Eustace Peterler." "That's all right, sir," explained the waiter, "we've changed it to number thirteen." "No, I want Room 17." "No, No. 13 is better, sir—bigger." "I specifically chose Room 17, and the purser said it was fine." "Sorry," I said calmly, "Room 17 has been assigned to me." "I disagree." The waiter intervened and said: "The other cabin is the same, but better." "I want room seventeen." "What's going on here?" A new voice interjected: "Waiter, put my things in here, this is my room." That was my neighbor at lunch, the Reverend Edward Chichester. "Sorry," I said, "This is my room." "This room is allotted to Sir Eustace Peterler," said Pagett. Everyone became more and more excited. "I'm sorry I have to argue about it," said Chichester, with a modest smile that could not conceal the strength of his will to get his way. Moderate people are always stubborn, I have noticed. He squeezed sideways into the aisle. "You live in Room 28 near the cabin door," said the waiter. "It's a very good room, sir." "I'm afraid I must insist. I was promised room seventeen." We were at an impasse and everyone was determined to hang on.Strictly speaking, anyway, I might drop out of the contest, accept room twenty-eight, and let things cool down.As long as it's not room 13, the other rooms don't matter to me.But my blood is boiling, and I don't want to be the first to give up.And I don't like Chichester.He has dentures that rattle when he eats.Few people are as annoying to me as he is. We keep repeating the same rhetoric.Even though the waiter repeatedly emphasized to us that the other two rooms are better than this one, we still ignored him. Pagett began to lose his temper.Chichester tried to hold back, and I tried to hold back my temper.None of us is willing to make a slight concession. The waiter winked at me, and I quietly left the scene.Fortunately, I soon met the purser. "Oh, please," I said, "you said I could take room seventeen, didn't you? But the other two, Mr. Chichester and Mr. Pagett, won't let me. went in, right?" I always tell people that no one treats a woman like a sailor.My little purser confidently entered the competition for me.He told the two disputants that Room 17 was mine and that they could move into Rooms 13 and 28 respectively, or stay in their own rooms, as they liked. I told him with my eyes what a hero he was, and walked into my new room.This encounter has made me so much better.With calm seas and warmer weather, seasickness is a thing of the past! I went on deck, joined in the ring games, and signed up for various sports.Refreshments are served on deck, which I enjoy as much as possible.After tea, I played coin toss with some pleasant young people.They all treated me very well.I find life joyful and satisfying. The changing horn suddenly blew, and I hurried back to my new room.The waitress waited for me with a puzzled face. "Miss, your room smells awful. I don't know what it is, but I doubt you could sleep in it. I think there's a deckhouse on the C floor where you can move in--just for one night." It tasted really bad - almost nauseating.I told the waitress I would think about moving out while I was changing.I walked quickly into the powder room and was greeted by a very nasty smell. What is that smell?dead mouse?No, worse than dead rat smell.Ah, I see!I've smelled it before.Something—ah!By the way, ferulic resin!I worked briefly in a hospital pharmacy during the war, and I was acquainted with many nasty-tasting medicines. That's the smell of ferulic resin, but why— I sat down on the sofa and suddenly understood.Someone put a pinch of ferulic resin in my room.Why?Forcing me to move out?Why are they rushing me to move out?I recall the scene this afternoon from another angle.What is it about Room 17 that makes so many people want to live in it?The other two were better rooms, why did the two big men insist on room seventeen? Seventeen, what a number to insist on!I embarked at Southampton on the seventeenth.Seventeen—I suddenly held my breath.I quickly opened my suitcase and took out the note hidden in the sock. Seventeen--twenty-two--I take it to be the date, the date when "Fort Gilmorden" sailed.What if I'm wrong?When I think about it to this point, I wonder if anyone writing a date would feel the need to write both the year and the month?Suppose seventeen refers to room seventeen? What about "one"?The time—one o'clock.Then "two two" must be the date.I looked at my little calendar. Tomorrow is the 22nd!