Many other passengers had returned to the smoking-room by the time
Cadogan got there. Meade, Crupp, and Vogel were already seated at the
corner table. Cadogan sat down with them.
From the farther corner of the room came a strident voice. "They were
all of them foolish to go at all, that's what I say. They will be out
there all night, and in the morning we will be laughing at them when
they return aboard. See here. Please see here."
The speaker opened and held up an illustrated advertising booklet. No
one in the room could fail to see it. "Thirty-eight water-tight
compartments. See, there it is. Non-sinkable. Non-sinkable--that's the
word. See for yourself, whoever cares. But there's people who fancy they
know more about ships than the men who make a trade of building 'em." He
stared around the room to see who would gainsay him. Nobody seemed to
care to.
Crupp turned around to see who it was. "It's that chap was auctioning
off the ship's pool an hour or two ago," explained Vogel. "He never
stops."
Major Crupp's questioning eyes roamed from Cadogan to the assertive man
at the farther corner and back to Cadogan. "What d'you make of him,
Cadogan?"
Cadogan shrugged his shoulders. "It is faith like his that builds
empires. And stupidity like his that loses them."
The man with the booklet had not abated the fervor of his reading
announcements; but those who were listening were listening without
comment. Thus far no one in the room had spoken aloud of danger except
the man with the booklet. The effect of his loud insistence was to
increase the unvoiced uneasiness.
A steward, with a face into which a white frost seemed to have bitten,
burst into the smoking-room, revolved rapidly once in the middle of the
room, and vanished through the door by which he came.
Everybody turned toward the door through which he disappeared, and then
every head seemed to turn toward every other. The voice of the man with
the booklet was lowered. Presently he ceased reading.
One man stood up and went silently out. The door closed behind him.
Another stood up. One, two, three men followed him to the door. Several
got up together. Another group was on its way when suddenly there was a
rush for the door. The man with the booklet, whiskered, fat, and
red-necked, stared down at his printed page in amaze. He gulped,
blinked, heaved himself up, and lumbered after the others. Only the four
gathered around the corner table remained in the smoking-room.
Crupp, with his thumbs hooked into his trousers pockets, was staring
down between his knees. On Crupp's left was Vogel, the millionaire of
the railroads. He was a tall, slope-shouldered man of fifty-five, bald
at the top of his head. His forehead sloped back from speculative eyes.
"Hi, wake up there, Major!" he bawled, most unexpectedly. "That steward
who came running in that time, you'd think he thought the ship was going
down. What d'y' imagine he wanted, Major?"
Crupp raised his head and stared abstractedly at Vogel. "Huh," repeated
Vogel, "what was he after, Major?"
"Lord knows"--Crupp suddenly smiled--"perhaps it was a tip."
On the table was a siphon of soda and some empty glasses. Crupp selected
one that had not been used, and, carefully gauging, poured about an inch
of soda into the glass. "The ship going down, Mr. Vogel? Heroes then
we'd have to be"--he glanced at each in turn over the rim of his
glass--"whether we liked it or not, wouldn't we? What did you learn that
time you went forward, Cadogan?"
Cadogan also helped himself to some soda-water, rolled it around in his
mouth, swallowed it, and set down his glass. As if he had not heard
Crupp, he drew out his cigar-case and offered it to the soldier.
Crupp nodded his thanks, took a cigar, bit off the end, and, without
looking away from Cadogan, lit up. Vogel took one, but as if by way of
courtesy only, for he indicated no desire to light it. Meade, waving
Cadogan away, lit a cigarette of his own rolling. "Shortening my life
smoking cigars," he explained.
The door opened. It was Lavis. With a pause and a bow, as if to ask
their permission, he took the corner seat on the transom. Cadogan,
waiting until he saw Lavis seated, tendered him the cigar-case. Lavis
shook his head.
"If you're afraid it's my last--" suggested Cadogan.
"It's years since I've smoked."
"That saves me, for it _is_ my last." With the word Cadogan threw the
empty cigar-case on the table.
Meade picked up the case, a gun-metal one, with Cadogan's monogram in
thin, flat silver letters on the side. "You throw that down, Cadogan,
as if you wanted to give it away."
"Did it look that way?" Cadogan took it from Meade's extended hand.
"I've carried that a good many years." He stood up as he finished
speaking, to reach for some matches from the next table. After lighting
up he remained standing.
"Clear, settled weather, and a smooth sea." He was gazing reflectively
through the weather air-port as he spoke.
"Cadogan"--Meade was speaking--"give us some more of your adventures."
Cadogan drew out his watch, also of gun-metal. "And I've carried that a
good many years, too." He spoke as if to himself. He looked at the face.
"No, it's too late, Mr. Meade. It's too late to begin now."
"It's never too late. Just think, in your short life you have lived more
volumes than I have written. You know more, ten times more, about real
life than I do, and I'm sixty. I wonder"--he fanned the smoke from
him--"would you mind dying after all you've been through?"
Cadogan was still standing. He set his left foot on the seat of his
chair, his left elbow on his knee, and his chin in the heel of his left
hand. By extending two long, supple left fingers he could hold his
cigar while he blew rings of smoke toward the air-port. He blew them
now--once, twice, three times. "I don't know any healthy men who are
eager to die, do you?" he said, half smiling, presently.
"Meaning you don't want to go yourself?"
"Just that. And yet, if I had to go, any time now, I don't see where I
could have any kick coming. Somewhere, sometime, it had to come. And yet
I was wondering, only to-night, queerly enough--" Between the first two
fingers and thumb of his right hand he was somersaulting the gun-metal
cigar-case against the table-top. _Tap_--_tap_--_tap_--one end, then the
other--_tap_--_tap_--_tap_--it went.
While Cadogan paused Meade was making mental notes of him. How wide and
powerful the shoulders loomed, how trim the waist, the grace of the long
white fingers, the smooth curves of the strong face, all brown below the
eyes and all white above! "What a fight you could put up!" thought
Meade. "And what a pity if anything should happen to you before you
should have had your chance!"
Cadogan ceased somersaulting the cigar-case. "Wouldn't it be queer, now,
I was thinking--here I've drawn lots with Death a hundred times--a few
more or less--and then to think of him coming along and grabbing a
fellow off the deck of an ocean liner!"
"That _would_ be a joke," commented Meade.
"Wouldn't it?" Cadogan carefully knocked his cigar-ashes onto the tray.
His eyes and Crupp's met.
With his eyes now focussed on the ash-tray, Cadogan continued: "If I
have left anybody worrying, or guessing, I can tell him where there is a
collapsible life-boat which will be safe in smooth water."
"There are women still aboard," said Crupp.
"Eh, what's that?" Meade sat straight up.
"Yes"--Cadogan's response was directed to Crupp--"there are many women
aboard. But when that life-boat is launched, there is going to be a
grand fight to see who will get on it. A half-dozen armed men could hold
it for themselves, but not for anybody else--women or men. What do you
say, Major? Would you be for that kind of a fight in the event of her
sinking?"
Crupp shook his head firmly. "I'd better shoot myself--or any other army
or navy officer--than be saved where a ship-load of women went down."
"What do you say, Mr. Vogel?"
Vogel smiled uneasily. "You gentlemen of the sword and pen, how you do
try our nerve at times! But in my circle neither do men honor the
craven. With many women still aboard, would I get into a boat and leave
the ship? Why, no."
"Do you mean, Cadogan"--all was silence when Meade spoke up--"do you
mean there is a possibility that this ship will founder?"
Cadogan nodded--twice--slowly.
"But for God's sake, when?"
"See"--he pointed to the deck at their feet--"the slant. Her bow is
settling now."
No one spoke, and only Meade moved, and he to interlock his fingers and,
pressing his hands together, to rest them on the edge of the table, and
lower, for a moment, his head.
Only Cadogan seemed to remember that Lavis was on the transom seat.
During all the time that he was speaking and acting, Cadogan knew that
Lavis had never ceased to study him.
Cadogan addressed him directly. "The raft?" asked Cadogan. Lavis shook
his head indifferently.
The soldier dropped the butt of his cigar straight down between his
knees. Meade laid the ends of his fingers on the edge of the table, and
stared at his nails.
Vogel sat a little higher in his chair. "Well, there's one thing. For
three generations now our family have pursued a constructive policy. My
son is almost of age. I hope he will not forget his responsibilities."