Cargo of Coffins Read Online Free PDF Page A

unexplainable elation which came over him and blanked out everything sordid whenever he was with her.
    When he knew she was within an arm’s length of him he pivoted and saluted her. “We’re off to a fair breeze, Miss Norton.”
    She smiled at him and placed her back against the rail. Her yellow hair was blowing about her face and her eyes were as quick and pleasant and changing as the South Atlantic.
    “How do you like the Valiant ?” she said.
    “She’s a thoroughbred, Miss Norton.”
    “Of course you’re used to bigger ships.”
    He wished she had not said that. It reminded him of this enforced masquerade. He managed a smile in return. “But not better.”
    She seemed to be studying him and he felt uneasy under her clear scrutiny. He knew she was interested in him but he supposed that it was the same interest a child would show to a piece of driftwood of queer design found upon the shore.
    “You seem to be very happy about getting away from Rio,” she said.
    This jolted him. Could it be that she knew more about him than he suspected? Could Paco . . . No, she was just being polite.
    She saved him his answer. “But then I suppose the loss of that promised job and the enforced stay in a dull town wasn’t pleasant to a man of action like yourself.”
    “Thank you, ma’am.”
    “What for?” she asked in surprise.
    He faltered and swiftly recovered. “Thank you for getting me out of that scrape. It’s no joke to be stranded. A seaman who has been wrecked can get transportation to his ship’s home port merely by asking the consul, but a captain cannot.”
    “I am glad I had the luck to find you after . . .” She was remembering Simpson and the short, pointless police investigation which had followed.
    “I hope I’m not bringing you bad luck, Miss Norton.”
    “No. That’s silly. Of course you aren’t. You didn’t know anything about me until after . . . after it happened. I doubt you knew the Valiant existed.”
    She was looking at the receding blueness of the ranges of Brazil and Lars watched her, glad to be able to do so without having to meet her eyes. It was hard to face that frank appraisal. He hated himself for not being able to tell her about this deceit.
    “I have an uneasy feeling,” she said at last, “that there was something more than personal enmity or robbery behind . . . Simpson acted strangely that day. He seemed to know something was coming. Two or three times he started to tell me something and then wouldn’t. And now, although we’re free of Rio, I can’t help but . . . But this is all nonsense. There’s no reason to worry you—indeed there isn’t any reason anything will happen. This world is too well policed for piracy and we carry nothing valuable. Outside of yourself we have no new members in the ship’s company and I have perfect faith in those who have been with me. Still . . .”
    She shivered a little as though she was cold. The gesture had a strange effect upon Lars. He wanted to step close to her and put his arm around her and tell her that she needn’t worry an instant about anything. He was there to see that nothing occurred. He was learning about this girl. She ruled those about her but she was kind. She trusted her friends and now she seemed inclined to rely upon Lars. She had a rare virtue in that she could talk to a man and make him feel at ease. Lars wished she weren’t so beautiful.
    She was worldly but not wise. She spoke of Paris and Moscow and Shanghai as carelessly as most girls talk about a party they have recently attended. Her knowledge of far lands seemed to be limited, however, to a strict upper strata. There was something engagingly childish about her enthusiasms.
    “Nothing’s going to happen,” said Lars, almost gruffly.
    She faced him again. Yes, he was right. She did rely upon him. That simple statement of his had momentarily wiped away her gloomy apprehensions.
    Lars was in conflict with himself. He wanted badly to tell her exactly how