It soon became apparent that Matthew’s carefully laid plans had miscarried again. It was strange what a demon of inefficiency always stalked alongside his most elaborate scheming.
The steward looked up their berth numbers which turned out to be widely separated. Matthew had been allotted a share in a deck cabin with three other men; Anna was to share with another woman, somewhere in the bowels of the ship. Imagine the way Matthew had been looking forward to getting Anna to himself in a small cabin, and you realize the extent of the disaster for him.
He was infuriated. He stopped quite still, blocking up the narrow passage where they happened to be. He was almost bursting with rage. He clenched his fists: his eyes went hot and dangerous: and he would not listen to the steward who was explaining that the boat was very crowded and that many married people were obliged to separate.
‘It’s a mistake,’ he said, in a tone of loud indignation. ‘A preposterous mistake. My cabin was booked long ago.’
He stood with clenched fists, blocking up the way. The steward watched him with a helpless face. Anna winced in discomfort and tried to urge him along. Was he going to stand there for ever? People were waiting to pass. Suddenly there came a thump. Matthew had snatched his bag from the steward and dropped it on the floor. He turned round in solemn wrath.
‘I shall go to the chief steward,’ he said. ‘I refuse to be put upon in this disgraceful manner.’ Whereupon he marched off, in a fine fume of indignation.
Anna followed behind, not knowing what else to do.
The chief steward, or whoever it was who had the final word in these matters, was sitting behind a table. He was a big, red-faced Scotchman, rather bossy and overbearing.
‘Well, what can I do for you?’ he began largely, seeing the irate Matthew bearing down upon him. He began by being lordly and condescending towards the complaint. ‘But, my dear sir, there is nothing I can do. The boat is as full as an egg.’ He smiled in a curious spiteful way, showing his teeth like a dog that wants a fight.
‘You must do something. I insist on having the matter put right.’ Matthew was furious. But he was on his dignity in front of the Scotchman, very much the Government Official before the paid employee of a shipping company. ‘It’s a disgrace to the line.’ He stared hotly at the other man. ‘I demand to be given proper accommodation!’
As Matthew became angrier and more official, Anna became more and more uncomfortable. The Scotchman sat behind his table, secure, with the smirking, unpleasant smile on his red face.
‘Don’t you hear what I say?’ Matthew exploded, beginning to bluster.
But the other only sat there, as it were behind the security of his position, and looked back at Matthew with the insolent smile on his face and a nasty glint in his eye.
‘I won’t stand it!’ Matthew’s hands were jerking dangerously.
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to,’ came from the Scotchman.
Anna watched the two men: Matthew, whose ungovernable rages she knew and despised: the other, whose bossiness was stronger than his anger, and his caution stronger still. She realized that the Scotchman was more dangerous than Matthew. He was sure of his backing. And though he might have the devil’s own temper, he would never lose sight of caution. Whereas Matthew’s rages were incontinence, pure and simple.
She took hold of his sleeve.
‘Come along,’ she said, in her cold way, that subdued him. ‘It’s no good arguing.’ And she walked him off, stiffly, feeling as though she had a vicious dog on the end of her chain.
For the moment she had him under control, all right. But her paramountcy was very precarious.
So Anna went to the cabin which she was sharing in the depths of the ship, near the ladies’ bathrooms, where it was dark and stuffy, with a hot curious smell of oil and steamy salt water. She was truly thankful to have been let off sharing a cabin with Matthew. It seemed as though the Lord were on her side in this respect.
She was getting used to scenes like this with Matthew. He seemed always to be making them. And she was always looking on, hiding her chilly discomfort under a disdainful front, and marching him off, if possible, before very much harm had been done. She felt rather ashamed of her association with him. And her nerves were very much on edge.
To calm herself, she pottered about in the cramped little cubicle, which was dismal in spite of the burning light, unpacking a few things and tidying her hair. Then up she went, through the tunnel-like passages, past groups of excited people, up to the crowded deck, and so into the light of day again.
Here was a great to-do. People with luggage; people with children; people angry, cheerful, flustered, calm; people in a hurry; people with nothing to do. People hung over the rail, watching what went on. Or they called out jokingly to each other. Or they stood in groups talking to their friends and getting in the way. A man on shore was playing ancient tunes on a battered old fiddle — Auld Lang Syne and out-of-date English songs, Tipperary and the old war songs — to please the English people. Occasionally someone threw him a coin over the side, and he scrambled for it with the men who sold carpets and binoculars and deck-chairs. There was a queer, unreal, excited feeling in the air.
Anna looked round for Rex Findlay. But of course she couldn’t see him. Impossible to find anyone in this confusion. She walked aimlessly towards the stern of the boat, pushing through the chattering crowd. And then she saw him, smoking a cigarette near the door of the wireless cabin, where there was a little quietude. He seemed to have found a quiet space for himself in the midst of the lively, excitable muddle.
‘So you have really appeared,’ Findlay was saying to her. She moved towards him. He stood with the cigarette drooped carelessly from the ends of his fingers, intent on the casual and yet close observation of the scene. And his mouth had the peculiar pale smile, like an emotional sign which only she could interpret. For a moment, she felt the new thrill in her blood as she looked at him, watching his mouth. She wondered what he was thinking. He spoke so unrevealingly. They stood and looked at the crowd.
‘Are you glad to be going out East?’ she asked, smiling, and glancing at his face. He took a puff at his cigarette. She watched him inhale the smoke and blow it out slowly, so very slowly, between his wide, smooth lips. Still she waited for him, and still he made no response.
‘Are you glad?’ she urged. ‘Do you want to go?’
He shrugged his shoulders this time: and contracted the corners of his mouth in a dubious way. Then he went back to his irresponsible, rather roguish smile.
‘It gives one to think. It gives one furiously to think,’ he said, looking round at the people.
‘It does indeed,’ laughed Anna. And she too threw bright glances of mockery at their fellow-passengers. She understood that he was disparaging them.
The muddle on board sorted itself out by degrees as the voyage began. But the boat was very crowded, so there still remained a certain confusion. Naturally, the chief steward had a down on Matthew and Anna. He was able to inflict on them various minor discomforts. Owing to the number of passengers, meals were served in two relays: the Kavans were drafted into the second division amongst the young bachelors and the less important folk, where the food was always scrappy and cold. And they were obliged to sit at an inferior table, right at the edge of the saloon. These things annoyed Matthew exceedingly. He took them as so many direct insults, aimed at him, personally; which, in a way, they were. And he went about in a fever of resentment, airing his grievances on every occasion, suitable or not.