Prev | Current Page 420 | Next

Streeter, John Williams

"The Fat of the Land The Story of an American Farm"


This is a gale, Doctor, and we have our hands full."
I turned from him in horror and despair. I stumbled to my stateroom,
dropped my wet clothing in the middle of the floor, and knew no more
until the trumpet called for breakfast. The rush of green waters was
pounding at my porthole; the experience of the night came back to me
with horror; the reek of my wet clothes sickened my heart, and I rang
for the steward.
"Take these things away, Gustav, and don't bring them back until they
are dry and pressed."
"What things does the Herr Doctor speak for?"
"The wet things there on the floor."
"Excuse me, but I have seen no things wet."
"You Dutch chump!" said I, half rising, "what do you mean by
saying--Well, I'll be damned!" There were my clothes, dry and folded, on
the couch, and my ulster and cap on their hook, without evidence of
moisture or use.
"Gustav, remind me to give you three rix-dollars at breakfast."
"Danke, Herr Doctor."
Of such stuff are dreams made. But I will know those terror-stricken
sailors if I do not see them for a hundred years; and I am glad the
dark-haired girl did not realize the horror, but simply knew that the
man loved her; and I often think of the man who did the nice thing when
no one was looking, and whose face was not terrorized by the crack of
doom.


Pages:
408 409 410 411 412 413 414 415 416 417 418 419 420 421 422 423 424 425 426 427 428 429 430 431 432