A Fool There Was

by Porter Emerson Browne

Blake pointed to the bucket.

"And that?" he persisted.

"Water, sir."

"And—?"

The steward slowly drew the back of his hand across dry lips. And then, in a swift rush of strangled words:

"Blood, gov'ner. Blood…. Only a boy he was, sir, and she looked down on him, laying there with his brains spattered on the deck and she laughed, sir…. God, sir! She laughed…." He struggled to his feet and pulled his forelock. He said in altered tones: "Beg pardon, sir. But a man can't be a blime machine all the time, sir."

There came a call from the state-room.

"Get that bucket away from here. Quick!" And Blake turned to meet the wife and child of his friend, as they came from the state-room.

"Oh, I do hope Jack won't be late," Kathryn remarked, scanning the decks.

Blake standing between her and the steward, returned with forced lightness: