"My what?"
"Shoes!" said the steward.
"I'll have the law on this line!" screamed one maddened passenger, laying hold of the steward's collar. "I'll sue 'em for the biggest damages ever awarded in a court. I'll complain to the captain. I put my shoes outside my door to be polished, and when I go to get 'em what do I see but—"
"He's stolen every damn shoe that was outside a door!" snorted another, who was sniffing after shoes up and down the passage like a terrier. "Where's the captain? Who was II? Who—"
"Come on," said Captain Valvick. "Out on de deck and go round."
They found a door forward, and plunged out on C deck — on the same deck and the same side that had seen the
hurricane of the night before. As before, it was dimly lighted, but this time peaceful. They paused and stared round, breathing cool air after the thick atmosphere inside. And Morgan, as he peered down a companion-way leading to D deck, came face to face with Mr. Charles Woodcock.;
Somebody swore, and then there was silence.
Mr. Woodcock was coming slowly and rather painfully up the steps. Aside from rumpled clothes, he was undamaged,' but every joint was cramped from his long trussing in torn sheets. His bush of hair waved in the breeze. He writhed his shoulders, cracking the knuckles of his hands; and on his bony face, as he looked up and saw who stood there, was an expression—
Morgan stared as he saw that look. He had expected] many things from the unfortunate bug-powder representative, triumph, threats, rumpled dignity swearing vengeance, i sinister joviality, at all events hostility. But here was an expression which puzzled him. Woodcock had stiffened. His tie was blown into his face and seemed to tickle his nose and terrify him like the brushing of a bat in the dark. His bony hand jerked. There was a silence but for seething water…