“What’s at the bottom of it all, Mr. Honna?”
“I’ll show ye!” With a hoarse whisper he rises, tip-toes swiftly along the corridor to the Second Officer’s room, and returns with a photograph.
Baby! Is she another milestone nearer to Alsatia, then? My pipe remains unlit as I gaze at the cheap provincial photograph of a girl with large eyes and a sensuous mouth.
Mr. Honna pushes his cap back and stares at me.
“What! D’ye know her?”
“It’s Baby,” I answer, laying the thing down. “Baby!”
“He’s engaged to her.”
“Since when?”
“Since—Gawd knows—last Monday, I believe.”
I reach for the matches, and recount to the Mate my knowledge of Baby. His nose wrinkles up, his eyes diminish to steel-blue points of fire, and he nods his head slowly to my tale.