V
From his seat on the transom, Lavis had caught sight of the face of Cadogan as he read the sheet of paper held up to the air-port. His chin came down on his chest, remained there a moment, and then he stood up and slowly went out on deck, by way of the door opposite to that which Cadogan had taken.
The passengers were gathering thickly on the top deck. There was now no restriction, ship's people having ceased their supervision, and many steerage passengers were crowding up to join first and second class on the higher decks.
"In the last death plunge," mused Lavis, "steerage may go first, if so be it pleases them."
He made out a couple standing hand in hand like children. He knew them, the couple from second cabin, and of the faith of the prophets of old.
"For why should I go in der boads, Simon?" the woman was saying. "No, no, mein husband. Fifty yahres together we hafe been now. Together we shell go now also."
"Surely God will welcome thee," murmured Lavis, and touched their clasped hands in passing.
He halted. A young man was staring out on the wide sea. Lavis remembered the bride and groom who had been so rapturously gazing out on the sea together before the collision. This was the groom, and he was speaking to another young man who was treading the deck restlessly, four paces one way, four paces back. "They said there was a lantern in the boat she was put in. I think I see it—a small light."
"Do you?"—the restless one halted—"I don't. How long were you married?"
"Four months."