Blue Voyage by Conrad Aiken

Author:Conrad Aiken [Aiken, Conrad]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Classics, Fiction
ISBN: 9781504011396
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 1927-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

V

“It was Friday the thirteenth. I don’t like Friday the thirteenth. We were all scared—every man on the ship. Waves coming right over the old tanker—they’re low in the water you know—only about that high out of the water. You hear them going right over. Gosh, it’s a terrible sound in the middle of the night when you’re lying in your bunk. But no sleep that night. We were on our feet all night …”

“—is that so——”

“—is that so——”

“Friday the thirteenth. Who was it, Tom Lawson, wrote that book——”

“But the sound of the water on one of those iron tankers! Gee whiz, man, you think you’re going down … It was a long trip, a long long trip—all the way from Tampico to New York, wallowing along in the old Gulf Stream day after day. Playing cards all day and half the night, new partners with every change of watch. Good God I got sick of the sight of a bloody card. And no smoking either—on the American tankers they let you, but not on the British, no sir.”

“… cockfighting—Havana …”

“Hello there, little Johnny Cagny! You looking for a fight, are you? You want to fight me, do you? Now don’t you be climbing up on the back of that seat—you’ll be getting a fall … There! Now you’ve been and gone and done it!”

“In Havana, sure. And all those places. Guatemala City, too, I’ve seen them.”

“Long, you know, knives—little thin steel knives—fastened on to those what-you-call-’ems——”

“Spurs——”

“Yes, spurs … and one eye only he had, one little red burning eye.”

“Yes, but the food’s good on a tanker—better than this is, by God!”

“… then she comes into the ring with a fine strapping black son-of-a-gun of a Tom cat. And he had a cock, of course, in his corner, holding it in his hands—and a beauty it was, too! And she says, ‘I’ll fight my puss against your cock,’ she says, ‘five dollars to the winner!’”

“… ha ha ha ha …”

“What the hell’s the matter with these hands?”

“It’s the jinx.”

“Ah, it’s a great sight is a good cockfight. How they will fight! I saw one once in Mexico City. It was a fight to a finish in every sense of the word. Both of them covered with blood, getting groggier and groggier, falling down and staggering up again for more, finally one of them flopped over, dead. The other one stretched up his neck and gave a little rusty crack of a crow—and keeled over, dead too. That’s the fighting spirit for you! You can’t beat it …”

“I’ll fight you! I’ll fight you!”

“I tell your popper on you.”

“No, you won’t!”

“I will too! And the policeman, that fellow with the red face, will get you. He told me he was looking for you.”

“Ah, he was not.”

“They don’t like little boys that come into smoking rooms. Those big fishes will get you—those fishes with great big mouths. They’ve had four little boys already this morning. They’d have been up again before this, only for the rain.

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