“Captain, Apples”—Le Duc's nose went up a little at the word—“Apples was on the beach the night you came ashore in the surf-boat.”
“You don't say so? Strange, isn't it, the way things come around, and the people you've met once are sure to turn up again? If I don't remember you, Appleton, it's because I wasn't feeling in shape to see anything that night but what was left of the old steamer. An ugly time that was. There was an hour or so before you lighted up your fire when I wouldn't have given half a dollar for our chances. The steamer was breaking up fast.”
“Let me see,” said Apples, “that must have been in my college days. Do you remember just when it was, Halloran?”
“I'm not likely to forget it.”
“It was up the shore toward Glencoe, wasn't it? I remember one wreck up that way—you crew fellows had quite a time of it, didn't you?”
After this feeble light on the conversation, darkness fell again; and the little family ate almost in silence, until the waiters brought in a platter of ducks and set them before Le Duc. The host looked suspiciously on them, then glanced at Lizzie. Finally, while his fingers toyed nervously with the carving knife and fork, his eyes sought the waiters; but one had left the room and the other was busy with the vegetables. Evidently he was expected to begin carving—the table waited, silently and expectantly—so he planted the fork in the right wing of the first duck and began. It did not go well. A brown fringe of gravy decorated the table-cloth around the platter, and little specks flew out occasionally toward the guests. Lizzie turned to Halloran and asked if he was living in the city now; and he replied that he was not. The brown fringe was widening; and George was watching the performance with increasing interest. Lizzie persisted: “Are you going to be here long, this visit?” No, he was going back to-morrow. The diversion failed here, and they waited in silence. Apples was breathing hard. At length, a quick, unskilful movement caused something to slip, and the end duck hopped neatly out on the table-cloth and settled down in a pool of gravy. Apples leaned back in his chair and looked at Lizzie.
“My dear”—he began. But the waiter was at his elbow, saying,
“Shall I serve it, sir?”
At this point the Captain rose, napkin in hand.
“I'll tell you what, Appleton,”, he said, “you just change places with me. If there's one thing I know, it's ducks.”