All the afternoon she sprawled in her berth, smoking, dozing, and drinking whiskies and soda. Subsequently she attired herself for dinner in a costume that was far more suitable to a ballroom than board ship. The lady kept late hours, snored noisily, and never vouchsafed the faintest recognition of me, until I brusquely introduced myself to her notice. I was watching her toilette on the third morning out, with almost painful intensity. I had read of the “art of making up the face,” and now I was receiving first-rate, first-hand, instruction. As the artist was about to put away her brushes I could not refrain from exclaiming:
“You’ve forgotten the left eyebrow!”
“Laws, so I ’ave!” she answered with astonishing composure. “And so you are not dumb or dead, you little cherub up aloft? My! but you ’ave ’ad a time! You look like a happorth of soap after a week’s washing. Take my advice and ’ave a good old whisky and soda, and that will buck you up.”
Although I turned a deaf ear to this suggestion, I managed to dress, and with the assistance of the stewardess crawled on deck the same afternoon. It was bitterly cold and sunless, and I realised that I was all alone aboard this great rolling steamer, on the grey heaving sea, amidst a crowd of total strangers. No doubt I looked rather shaky and forlorn, for a nice old gentleman, with a friendly face, came forward and led me to a chair, whilst another—a younger man—placed a rug over my knees.
“I’m glad to see you are up,” said the former. “Anything is better than stifling down below, eh?”
I smiled faintly as I thanked him.
“I suppose your friends are hors de combat?” he continued, as he sat down beside me.
“My friends—I have none on board. I am all alone,” I replied. I still felt weak and giddy, and could not restrain the tears which started into my eyes.
“You must allow me to bring you some chicken broth,” urged the younger gentleman, who had a clear-cut, clean-shaven face, and wore a fur-lined coat; and in another moment a steaming cup was in my hands. As I sipped the broth I felt revived, the keen sea air refreshed me, and sitting between my two new acquaintances I found myself telling them that I was going all the way to Bombay, that it was my first long journey, and how I had been disappointed of the company of my chaperone.
“I hope you have a nice cabin companion?” enquired the old man (I believe he was about fifty).