Singing in the Shrouds by Ngaio Marsh

Author:Ngaio Marsh [Marsh, Ngaio]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: C429, Extratorrents, Kat
Published: 2010-01-22T13:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 8

Sunday the Thirteenth

The next day being Sunday, Father Jourdain with the captain's permission celebrated Holy Communion in the lounge at seven o'clock. The service was attended among the passengers by Miss Abbott, Brigid, Mr. McAngus, and rather surprisingly, Mr. Merryman. The third officer, the wireless officer, two of the cadets, and Dennis represented the ship's complement. Alleyn, at the back of the room, listened, watched, and not for the first time felt his own lack of acceptance to be tinged with a faint regret.

When the service was over the little group of passengers went out on deck and presently were joined by Father Jourdain, wearing, as he had promised, his "decent black cassock." He looked remarkably handsome in it with the light breeze lifting his glossy hair. Miss Abbott, standing, characteristically, a little apart from the others, watched him, Alleyn noticed, with a look of stubborn deference. There was a Sunday morning air about the scene. Even Mr. Merryman was quiet and thoughtful, while Mr. McAngus, who, with Miss Abbott, had carried out the details of Anglo-Catholic observance like an old hand, was quite giddy and uplifted. He congratulated Brigid on her looks and did his little chassé before her with his head on one side. Mr. McAngus's russet-brown hair had grown, of course, even longer at the back, and something unfortunate seemed to have happened round the brow and temples. But as he always wore his felt hat out-of-doors and quite often in the lounge, this was not particularly noticeable.

Brigid responded gaily to his blameless compliments and turned to Alleyn.

"I didn't expect to see you about so early," she said.

"And why not?"

"You were up late! Pacing round the deck. Wrapped in thought!" teased Brigid.

"That's all very fine," Alleyn rejoined. "But what, I might ask, were you up to yourself? From what angle of vantage did you keep all this observation?"

Brigid blushed. "Oh," she said with a great air of casualness, "I was sitting in the verandah along there. We didn't like to call out as you passed, you looked so solemn and absorbed." She turned an even brighter pink, glanced at the others, who were gathered round Father Jourdain, and added quickly, "Tim Makepiece and I were talking about Elizabethan literature."

"You were not talking very loudly about it," Alleyn observed mildly.

"Well--" Brigid looked into his face. "I'm not having a ship-board flirtation with Tim. At least--at least, I don't think I am."

"Not a flirtation?" Alleyn repeated and smiled at her.

"And not anything else. Oh, golly!" Brigid said impulsively. "I'm in such a muddle."

"Do you want to talk about your muddle?"

Brigid put her arm through his. "I've arrived at the age," Alleyn reflected, "when charming young ladies take my arm." They walked down the deck together.

"How long," Brigid asked, "have we been at sea? And, crikey!" she added. "What an appropriate phrase that is!"

"Six days."

"There you are! Six days! The whole thing's ridiculous. How can anybody possibly know how they feel in six days? It's out of this world."

Alleyn remarked that he had known how he felt in one day.

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