His long
skinny, hairy arms were bare. His long silvery-grey beard gave him an
appearance like an ancient prophet. But where the beard left off there
was the anomaly of an almost smooth, ruddy face, and very young,
straight-seeing, blue eyes.
When I told the old cook what I wanted, he invited me in to the galley
and reached me a stool to sit on.
"The captain isn't up yet. He was ashore on a jamboree last night.
You'll see him walking up and down the poop when he's hopped out of his
bunk and eaten his breakfast."
The cook talked about himself, while I waited there. I helped him peel a
pail of potatoes....
Though I heard much of strange lands and far-away ports, he talked
mostly of the women who had been in love with him ... slews of them ...
"and even yet, sixty-five years old, I can make a good impression when I
want to ... I had a girl not yet twenty down in Buenos Ayres. She was
crazy about me ... that was only two years ago."
He showed me pictures of the various women, in all parts of the world,
that had "gone mad about him" ... obviously, they were all prostitutes.
He brought out a batch of obscene photographs, chuckling over them.
It was a German ship--the _Valkyrie_. But the cook spoke excellent
English, as did, I later found out, the captain, both the mates, and all
but one or two of the crew.
Before the captain came up from below the cook changed the subject from
women to history.
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