by Rex Beach
III
A GAP
Strictly speaking, Kirk Anthony did not awake to a realization of hissurroundings, but became conscious of them through a long process ofdull, dreamy speculation. He never knew the precise moment when hiseyes opened and sleep left him, but at cost of considerable mentaleffort he finally brought himself to the conviction that hours hadpassed and another day had arrived. More than once after long, whitenights in New York City, he had awakened amid strange surroundings andhad been forced to wait upon his lagging memory; but this time his mindrefused to work, even after he knew himself to be fully roused. So heclosed his eyes with the admonition:
"Now, begin all over again, Kirk. When you left Padden's place you wentto Maxim's and listened to the fat quartette, then to the place wherethe waiter held out a dollar. After the trouble at that point, youtried to get into Tony's rathskeller and couldn't, so you started forthe East Side. Ringold was very drunk. Good! Everything is clear sofar. Next you were playing a piano with yellow teeth while somebodysang something about a 'Little Brown Cot.' After that--Lord, you musthave been drinking! Well, let's run through it again."
But his efforts were vain; he could recall nothing beyond the piano, sofell to wondering what hotel this could be.
"Some East Side joint," he decided, "and a cheap one too, from the sizeof this stall." He noted another brass bed close at hand and reasonedthat Ringold or Higgins must have risen early, leaving him to finishhis sleep. That was considerate, of course, but--Good heavens, it mustbe late! And he was due to motor to New Haven at noon! He raisedhimself suddenly, and was half out of bed when he fell back, with acry, as if an unseen hand had smitten him. He clapped both palms to hishead, realizing that he was very sick indeed. The sensation was unlikeanything he had ever felt before. His head was splitting, he felt afrightful nausea, the whole room was rocking and reeling as if to pitchhim out of bed. It was terrible; so he arose blindly and felt his waytoward the telephone. Failing to find it, he pushed a button instead,then tumbled back to bed, reviling the luck that had brought him tosuch a miserable place. He closed his eyes tightly and calmed hisstomach by an effort of will. At last he heard the door open and avoice inquire:
"Did you ring, sir?"
"An hour ago. Haven't you more than one bell-hop in this place?"
"I'm sorry, sir."
"And I'm sick, mighty sick. I'm going to die."
"I think not, sir; the others are sick, too."
"That's good! I was afraid they'd dressed and gone." It was someconsolation to know that Ringold and Higgins had not escaped theirshare of suffering. "How is Hig--the bony fellow?"
"Do you mean the gentleman in thirty-two?"
"How should I know his number? That's not Hig's description,however--even you could tell that he is no gentle--Oh, Lord!"
"Can I get you something, sir--a little champagne, perhaps, to settleyour stomach?"
"NO, NO! Get me a taxicab. I want to go up-town."
"Rather a long drive, isn't it?" snickered the bell-boy.
"Never mind the comedy." Anthony opened his eyes. "Hello! Are you theclerk?" Instead of the bell-hop he had expected he beheld a man inwhite jacket and black trousers.
"No, sir, I'm the steward."
The invalid shook his head faintly. "Funny place I've got into. What'sthe name of it?"
"This? Oh! The SANTA CRUZ."
"Never heard of it. Why didn't they give me a good room? This isfierce."
"Suite A is considered very good, sir. It is one of the best on theline."
"Line?" Kirk grunted. "So this is some dead-line dump. Well, I'm goingto get out--understand? Hand me my trousers and I'll slip you aquarter."
The steward did as desired, but a blind search showed the pockets to beempty.
"Give me the coat and vest." But here again Kirk found nothing, and wasforced to apologize. "Sorry, old man, but I must have left it at theoffice. Now be a good fellow and hustle up that taxi. I'm gettingsicker every minute."
"Perhaps you had better have the doctor?"
"Is there a good one handy?"
"Yes, sir."
"Here in the hotel?"
The steward seemed undecided whether to treat the occupant of Suite Aas a humorist or a lunatic, but finally he observed, "This isn't ahotel, sir."
"That's what I though-t-more like a roadhouse," "This is a ship."
"A--WHAT?" Anthony raised himself and stared at the white-clad figureover the foot of his little brass bed.
"This is a ship, sir."
"You get out of here!" yelled the infuriated young man. He cast hiseyes about for some missile to hurl at this insolent menial, and,spying a heavy glass pitcher upon a stand beside him, reached for it,whereat the steward retreated hastily to the door.
"I beg pardon, sir. I will send the doctor at once."
"Must think I'm still drunk," mumbled Anthony, dazedly, as he once morelaid his head upon his pillow with a groan.
When his dizziness had diminished sufficiently to permit him to openhis eyes he scanned his surroundings more carefully; but his vision wasunreliable. His head, too, continued to feel as if his skull were beingforcibly spread apart by some fiendish instrument concealed within it.His mouth was parched, his stomach violently rebellious. In spite ofthese distractions he began to note certain unfamiliar features aboutthis place. The wall-paper, for instance, which at first glance he hadtaken for the work of some cheap decorator, turned out to be tapestry,as he proved by extending a shaky hand. The low ceiling, the littlewindows with wooden blinds, the furniture itself, were all out ofkeeping with hotel usages. He discovered by rolling his head that therewas a mahogany dresser over by the door and a padded couch covered withchintz. There were folding brass clothes-hooks on the wall, moreover,and an electric fan, while a narrow door gave him a glimpse of a tiny,white-enamelled bath-room.
He took in these details laboriously, deciding finally that he was toointoxicated to see aright, for, while the place was quite unlike anordinary hotel room, neither did it resemble any steamship stateroom hehad ever seen; it was more like a lady's boudoir. To be sure, he felt asickening surge and roll now and then, but at other times the wholeroom made a complete revolution, which was manifestly contrary to thelaw of gravitation and therefore not to be trusted as evidence. Therewere plenty of reasons, moreover, why this could not be a ship. Themere supposition was absurd. No, this must be a room in some up-townclub, or perhaps a bachelor hotel. Kirk had many friends with quartersdecorated to suit their own peculiar fancies, and he decided that inall probability one of these had met him on the street and taken himhome for safe-keeping. He had barely settled this in his mind when thedoor opened for a second time and a man in uniform entered.
"The steward said you wanted me," he began.
"No; I want a doctor."
"I am the doctor."
"I thought you were the elevator man. I'm sick--awful sick--"
"Can you vomit?"
"Certainly! Anybody can do that."
The stranger pulled up a stool, seated himself beside the bed, thenfelt of Anthony's cheek.
"You have a fever."
"That explains everything." Kirk sighed thankfully and closed his eyesonce more, for the doctor had begun to revolve slowly, with the bed asan axis. "How are the other boys coming on?"
"Everybody is laid out. It's a bad night."
"Night? It must be nearly daylight by this time."
"Oh no! It is not midnight yet."
"Not midnight? Why, I didn't turn in until--" Anthony raised himselfsuddenly. "Good Lord! have I slept all day?"
"You certainly have."
"Whose room is this?"
"Your room, of course. Here, take one of these capsules; it will settleyour stomach."
"Better give me something to settle my bill if I've been here thatlong. I'm broke again."
"You're not fully awake yet," said the doctor. "People have funny ideaswhen they're sick."
"Well, I know I'm broke, anyhow! That's no
idea; it's a condition. Iwent through my clothes just now and I'm all in. I must get back to theAstor, too, for I had arranged to motor up to New Haven at noon."
"Let me feel your pulse," said the doctor, quietly.
"The boys will think I'm lost. I never did such a thing before."
"Where do you think you are?" inquired the physician.
"I don't know. It's a nice little hotel, but--"
"This isn't a hotel. This is a ship."
Anthony was silent for a moment. Then he sighed feebly and said:
"Doctor, you shouldn't make fun of a man at the point of death. Itisn't professional."
"Fact," said the doctor, abstractedly gazing at his watch, while heheld Anthony's wrist between his fingers. "We are one hundred and fiftymiles out of New York. The first officer told me you were considerablyintoxicated when you came aboard, but," he continued brusquely, risingand closing his watch with a snap, "you will remember it all in alittle while, Mr. Locke."
"What did you call me?"
"Locke. You haven't forgotten your name, too?"
"Wait!"
Again Anthony pressed his throbbing temples with both hot hands andstrove to collect his whirling wits. At last he began to speak,measuring his words with care.
"Now, I KNOW you are wrong, Doctor, and I'll tell you why. You see, myname isn't Locke; it's Anthony. Locke went away on a ship, but _I_stayed in New York; understand? Well, he's the fellow you're talking toand I'm asleep somewhere down around the Bowery. I'm not here at all._I_ didn't want to go anywhere on a ship; I couldn't go; I didn't havethe price. That supper was a hundred and seventy."
"Nevertheless, this is a ship," the physician patiently explained, "andyou're on it and I'm talking to you. What is more, you have notexchanged identities with your friend Anthony, for your ticket reads'Jefferson Locke.' You'll be all right if you will just go to sleep andgive that capsule a chance to operate."
"Ask Higgins or Ringold who I am."
"There's no one aboard by either of those names."
"Say!" Anthony raised himself excitedly on one arm, but was forced tolie down again without delay. "If this is a ship, I must have comeaboard. How did I do it? When? Where?"
"You came on with two men, or rather between two men, abouteight-thirty this morning. They put you in here, gave your ticket tothe purser, and went ashore. The slim fellow was crying, and one of thedeck-hands had to help him down the gangway."
"That was Higgins all right. Now, Doctor, granting, just for the sakeof argument, that this is a ship and that I am Jefferson Locke, when isyour next stop?"
"One week."
"What?" Kirk's eyes opened wide with horror. "I can't stay here a week."
"You will have to."
"But I tell you I CAN'T, I just can't. I bought a new car the other dayand it's standing in front of the New York Theatre. Yes, and I have tworooms and a bath at the Astor, at fifteen dollars a day."
The physician smiled heartlessly. "You must have been drinking prettyheavily, but I guess you will remember everything by-and-by."
"I can't understand it," groaned the bewildered invalid. "What ship isthis--if it is really a ship?"
"The SANTA CRUZ. Belongs to the United Fruit Company. This is one ofthe bridal suites; it is 11:30 P.M., November 21st. We are bound forColon."
"Where is that?"
"Panama."
"Panama is in Central America or Mexico or somewhere, isn't it?"
"It is. Now, do you remember anything more?"
"Not a thing."
"Well, then, go to sleep. You'll be all right in the morning, Mr.Locke."
"Anthony."
"Very well, Mr. Anthony, if you prefer. Is there anything more youwould like to ask me?"
"No."
"Of course, there may have been some mistake," the medical manobserved, doubtfully, as he opened the door. "Maybe you intended totake some other ship?"
"No mistake at all," the sick man assured him. "I'm beginning toremember now. You see, I lost my hat and decided I'd run down to Panamaand get another. Good-night."
"Good-night. That capsule will make you sleep."
When the officer had gone Kirk mumbled to himself: "If it turns outthat I AM in New York, after all, when I wake up I'll lick thatdoctor." Then he turned over and fell asleep.
But morning showed him the truth of the doctor's information. He awokeearly and, although his head still behaved queerly and he had momentsof nausea, he dressed himself and went on deck. The shock he hadreceived on the evening before was as nothing to what he felt now uponstepping out into the light of day. In spite of his growing conviction,he had cherished a lingering hope that it was all a dream, and thefeeling did not entirely vanish until he had really seen for himself.Then his dismay was overwhelming.
A broad deck, still wet from its morning scrubbing and lined withsteamer chairs, lay in front of him. A limitless, oily sea stretchedout before his bewildered eyes; he touched the rail with his hands toverify his vision. The strangeness of it was uncanny. He felt as if hewere walking in his sleep. He realized that a great fragment hadsuddenly dropped out of his life's pattern, and it was intenselydisquieting to think of all it might have carried with it.
He began to pace the deck mechanically, falling in with the other earlyrisers who were out for a breath of morning air, striving to adjusthimself to this new state of affairs. But even though the solid realityof his surroundings soon brought him back more nearly to a normal stateof mind, he felt an ever-present expectancy of some new shock, some newand abrupt transition that might yet bring him back to hisstarting-point. But this obsession gradually left him, as the brisk seabreeze brought him to a proper perspective and braced him to face thefull consequences of his long, restless night's orgy.
No man is so systematic, none is so well ordered in his affairs, thathe can cut out a slice of his life at a moment's notice withoutsuffering many kinds of loss and inconvenience. Although Anthony was ayouth of few responsibilities, he awoke suddenly to the fact that therewere a thousand things that needed doing, a thousand people who neededto know his whereabouts, a thousand things that were bound to go wrong.For instance, there was his brand-new French car, standing with motorblanketed beside the Forty-fifth Street curb.
What had happened to it, and to the urchin he had left in charge of it?He owed a thousand dollars on its purchase, which he had promised topay yesterday. Then, too, he had neglected his house account at theUniversity Club, and it was long overdue. That remittance from hisfather had come just in the nick of time. Suddenly he recalled placingthe check in his bill-case, and he searched himself diligently, butfound nothing. That reminded him that he had won a bet or two on thefootball game and the money needed collecting. There was the shootingtrip to Cape Cod as well. He was due there to-day for a week-end amongthe geese and brant. What would Benny Glover think when he failed toshow up or even telegraph? Benny's sister was coming down from Bostonwith some friends and--oh, it was simply imperative that he get someword ashore.
He let his eyes rove over the ship in desperation, then a happy thoughtcame to him.
"The wireless!" he said aloud. "Bonehead! Why didn't you think of thatlong ago?" A glance at the rigging showed him that the Santa Cruz wasequipped with a plant, and a moment later he was hammering at theoperator's door.
"I want to send a message right away!" he cried, excitedly; but the"wireless" shook his head with a smile.
"I'm sorry, but--"
"It's important; awfully important. I'll pay you anything!" Kirk rammeda hand mechanically into his empty pocket.
"We're installing a new system," said the operator. "The old apparatuswasn't satisfactory and it's being changed throughout."
"Then you-you can't send a message--possibly?"
"Nothing doing until the next trip."
Kirk strode forward and stared disconsolately down upon the freightdeck in a vain endeavor to collect his thoughts. How in the devil hadhe managed to get into this mess? Could it be one of Higgins'
ssenseless pranks, or was there something deeper, more sinister behindit? He recalled the incidents of that wild night and began to have adisquieting doubt. Did that chance meeting with the chap from St. Louishave anything to do with his presence here, or had he really decided insome foolish, drunken whim to take a trip to Central America? He hardlyknew what to think or where to begin his reasoning. He recollected thatJefferson Locke had not impressed him very favorably at the start, andthat his behavior upon the appearance of the plain-clothes man had notimproved that first impression. It seemed certain that he must have hadhis hand in this affair, else how would Anthony now find himself inpossession of his ticket? What had become of the rightful occupant ofSuite A? What had become of Higgins's unfortunate victim with thecracked head? What did it all signify? Kirk sighed disconsolately andgave it up. In five days more he would learn the answer, anyhow, forthere must be a cable from Panama to the States. Meanwhile, he supposedhe must reconcile himself to his condition. But it was tough to havetwo weeks of valuable time snatched out of his eventful life. It wasmaddening.