Chapter VII
In every way dinner proved up beyond my expectations, and I registered a
note that the cook, whoever or whatever he might be, was a capable man at
his trade. Miss West served, and, though she and the steward were
strangers, they worked together splendidly. I should have thought, from
the smoothness of the service, that he was an old house servant who for
years had known her every way.
The pilot ate in the chart-house, so that at table were the four of us
that would always be at table together. Captain West and his daughter
faced each other, while I, on the captain's right, faced Mr. Pike. This
put Miss West across the corner on my right.
Mr. Pike, his dark sack coat (put on for the meal) bulging and wrinkling
over the lumps of muscles that padded his stooped shoulders, had nothing
at all to say. But he had eaten too many years at captains' tables not
to have proper table manners. At first I thought he was abashed by Miss
West's presence. Later, I decided it was due to the presence of the
captain. For Captain West had a way with him that I was beginning to
learn. Far removed as Mr. Pike and Mr. Mellaire were from the sailors, individuals as they were of an entirely different and superior breed, yet equally as different and far removed from his officers was Captain West. He was a serene and absolute aristocrat. He neither talked "ship" nor anything else to Mr. Pike.
On the other hand, Captain West's attitude toward me was that of a social
equal. But then, I was a passenger. Miss West treated me the same way, but unbent more to Mr. Pike. And Mr. Pike, answering her with "Yes, Miss," and "No, Miss," ate good-manneredly and with his shaggy-browed gray eyes studied me across the table. I, too, studied him. Despite his violent past, killer and driver that he was, I could not help liking the man. He was honest, genuine. Almost more than for that, I liked him for the spontaneous boyish laugh he gave on the occasions when I reached the points of several funny stories. No man could laugh like that and be all bad. I was glad that it was he, and not Mr. Mellaire, who was to sit opposite throughout the voyage. And I was very glad that Mr. Mellaire was not to eat with us at all.
I am afraid that Miss West and I did most of the talking. She was
breezy, vivacious, tonic, and I noted again that the delicate, almost
fragile oval of her face was given the lie by her body. She was a
robust, healthy young woman. That was undeniable. Not fat--heaven
forbid!--not even plump; yet her lines had that swelling roundness that
accompanies long, live muscles. She was full-bodied, vigorous; and yet
not so full-bodied as she seemed. I remember with what surprise, when we
arose from table, I noted her slender waist. At that moment I got the
impression that she was willowy. And willowy she was, with a normal
waist and with, in addition, always that informing bodily vigour that
made her appear rounder and robuster than she really was.
It was the health of her that interested me. When I studied her face
more closely I saw that only the lines of the oval of it were delicate. Delicate it was not, nor fragile. The flesh was firm, and the texture of the skin was firm and fine as it moved over the firm muscles of face and neck. The neck was a beautiful and adequate pillar of white. Its flesh was firm, its skin fine, and it was muscular. The hands, too, attracted me--not small, but well-shaped, fine, white and strong, and well cared for. I could only conclude that she was an unusual captain's daughter, just as her father was an unusual captain and man. And their noses were alike, just the hint-touch of the beak of power and race.