I felt the mystery and wonder of
great distances and far places. We were so utterly alone! Except for the
passing hail of some stranger, we had cut ourselves off for months from all
communication with the larger world. Whatever happened aboard ship, in
whatever straits we found ourselves, we must depend solely upon our own
resources; and already it appeared that some of our shipmates were scheming
and intriguing against one another. Thus I meditated, until the boyish and
more natural, perhaps more wholesome, thought of the cook's promise came to
me.
Pie! My remembrance of pie was almost as intangible as a pleasant dream
might be some two days later. With care to escape observation, I made my
way to the galley and knocked cautiously.
"Who's dah?" asked softly the old cook, who had barricaded himself for the
night according to his custom, and was smoking a villainously rank pipe.
"It's Ben Lathrop," I whispered.
"What you want heah?" the cook demanded.
"The pie you promised me," I answered.
"Humph! Ain't you fo'got dat pie yet? You got de most miraculous memorizer
eveh Ah heared of. You wait."
I heard him fumbling inside the galley; then he opened the door and stepped
out on deck as if he had just decided to take a breath of fresh air.
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