Every Man for Himself by Beryl Bainbridge

Author:Beryl Bainbridge
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Ships & Shipbuilding, General, Transportation, History
ISBN: 9780715627334
Publisher: Duckworth
Published: 1997-04-14T10:00:00+00:00

Some men shy away from society when life deals an underhand blow. That’s not my way; I need people to restore my spirits and could scarcely wait to join the others for dinner. In Scurra’s company it was necessary to contemplate the exquisite darkness of the world, and though not melancholy by nature I had been touched by shadows. It wasn’t that he’d been overly brutal in his summary of my past – he had, after all, omitted to mention that my mother mouldered in a public grave – rather that he’d been less than sensitive in regard to my infant self. It wouldn’t have cost him much to invent a gleam of intelligence in the baby-blue eyes beneath the shaven scalp.

I was in my dressing-gown preparing to bathe when the steward knocked at the door. In my haste to get rid of him I was foolishly quick in pardoning him for not securing the porthole earlier. He took advantage and loitered over his task. Glancing at me curiously he remarked that an infusion of cold tea was very good for swellings. I jumped to the conclusion that my eyes were puffy and spun him a yarn about an unaccompanied dog having run off with my newspaper. ‘I ran the full length of the ship in pursuit,’ I said. ‘The wind made my eyes water.’

‘Possibly the dog was a retriever, sir,’ he replied. Taking my evening clothes from the wardrobe he laid them out on the bed. ‘Certain winds,’ he continued, ‘are considered to have a detrimental effect on both man and beast. Under their influence the most peaceful of men have been known to lose control and act in an uncharacteristically energetic way. It happened to me once on the Mediterranean run. By inclination I’m what one might call timid, yet come the mistral I set about the ship’s doctor with a poker and laid him out cold, and all because I took a sudden dislike to the way he sprinkled sugar on his pudding.’ Here, he was about to empty the pockets of my day coat when I remembered the note to Wallis and shouted out for him to leave things alone, at which he pursed his lips, put the whisky tumblers on to a tray and flounced from the room.

I realised what he’d been raving about when I caught sight of myself in the glass. Obviously Hopper had told no one of the outcome of the racquets game and all and sundry of the scrap in the dining room. Emptying the pockets of my tweed coat and transferring the contents to my evening jacket, I rang the bell repeatedly. When at last McKinlay arrived I apologised for my brusqueness, handed him a dollar bill and asked to be brought a jug of cold tea. He thanked me and took his time in returning.

I spent a good half-hour bathing my forehead, with disappointing results. It was just as well I’d been prevented from delivering my letter to Wallis; my brow had begun to bulge and the skin circling my eye was unmistakably foxed with purple.

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