U.S.A_ - John Dos Passos [384]
"Sure, why not? I got the fidgets, been up since six o'clock. Damn this fog, we may be here al day."
"It's fog al right."
They took a couple of turns round the deck.
"Notice how the boat stinks, Joe?"
"It's being at anchor, and the fog stimulates your smel -ers, I guess. How about breakfast?" Charley didn't say anything for a moment, then he took a deep breath and said, "Al right, let's try it."
The diningsaloon smelt of onions and brasspolish. The Johnsons were already at the table. Mrs. Johnson looked pale and cool. She had on a little grey hat Charley hadn't seen before, al ready to land. Paul gave Charley a sickly kind of smile when he said hel o. Charley noticed how Paul's hand was shaking when he lifted the glass of orangejuice. His lips were white.
"Anybody seen Ol ie Taylor?" asked Charley.
"The major's feelin' pretty bad, I bet," said Paul, gig-gling.
-4-"And how are you, Charley?" Mrs. Johnson intoned sweetly.
"Oh, I'm . . . I'm in the pink."
"Liar," said Joe Askew.
"Oh, I can't imagine," Mrs. Johnson was saying, "what kept you boys up so late last night."
"We did some singing," said Joe Askew.
"Somebody I know," said Mrs. Johnson, "went to bed in his clothes." Her eye caught Charley's.
Paul was changing the subject: "Wel , we're back in God's country."
"Oh, I can't imagine," cried Mrs. Johnson, "what America's going to be like." Charley was bolting his wuffs avec du bakin and the coffee that tasted of bilge.
"What I'm looking forward to," Joe Askew was say-ing, "is a real American breakfast."
"Grapefruit," said Mrs. Johnson.
"Cornflakes and cream," said Joe.
"Hot cornmuffins," said Mrs. Johnson.
"Fresh eggs and real Virginia ham," said Joe.
"Wheatcakes and country sausage," said Mrs. Johnson.
"Scrapple," said Joe.
"Good coffee with real cream," said Mrs. Johnson, laughing.
"You win," said Paul with a sickly grin as he left the table. Charley took a last gulp of his coffee. Then he said he thought he'd go on deck to see if the immigration officers had come. "Why, what's the matter with Charley?" He could hear Joe and Mrs. Johnson laughing together as he ran up the companionway. Once on deck he decided he wasn't going to be sick. The fog had lifted a little. Astern of the Niagara he could see the shadows of other steamers at anchor, and beyond, a rounded shadow that might be land. Gul s wheeled and
-5-screamed, overhead. Somewhere across the water a foghorn groaned at intervals. Charley walked up forward and leaned into the wet fog.
Joe Askew came up behind him smoking' a cigar and
took him by the arm: "Better walk, Charley," he said.
"Isn't this a hel of a note? Looks like little old New York had gotten torpedoed during the late unpleasantness. . . . I can't see a damn thing, can you?"
"I thought I saw some land a minute ago, but it's gone now."
"Musta been Atlantic Highlands; we're anchored off the Hook. . . . Goddam it, I want to get ashore."
"Your wife'l be there, won't she, Joe?"
"She ought to be. . . . Know anybody in New York, Charley?" Charley shook his head. "I got a long ways to go yet before I go home. . . . I don't know what I'l do when I get there."
"Damn it, we may be here al day," said Joe Askew.
"Joe," said Charley, "suppose we have a drink . . . one final drink."
"They've closed up the damn bar."
They'd packed their bags the night before. There was nothing to do. They spent the morning playing rummy in the smokingroom. Nobody could keep his mind on the game. Paul kept dropping his cards. Nobody ever knew who had taken the last trick. Charley was trying to keep his eyes off Mrs. Johnson's eyes, off the little curve of her neck where it ducked under the grey fur trimming of her dress. "I can't imagine," she said again, "what you boys found to talk about so late last night. . . . I thought we'd talked about everything under heaven before I went to bed."
"Oh, we found topics but mostly it came out in the form of singing," said Joe Askew.
"I know I always miss things when I go to bed." Char--6-ley noticed Paul beside him staring at her with pale