Prev | Current Page 331 | Next

Various

"The Best Short Stories of 1921 and the Yearbook of the American Short Story"

They had died or been deserted in foreign ports, but this one he
could not escape. Tradition had it that he lost the figurehead from his
ship on the nuptial voyage, attributed this disaster to his bride, and
so left her at Rosario, only to find her, after all sail was set, in the
forechains, at the very stem of his ship, half drowned, her arms
outstretched, a living figurehead. She had swum after him. She outlived
him, too, and died in giving birth to Cad Sills, whose blood had thus a
trace of sea water--.
He entered his house. In his domestic arrangements he was the very
figure of a bachelor. His slimsy silver spoon, dented with toothmarks of
an ancestor who had died in a delirium, was laid evenly by his plate.
The hand lamps on the shelf wore speckled brown-paper bags inverted over
their chimneys. A portrait of a man playing the violin hung out, in
massive gilt, over the table, like a ship's figurehead projecting over a
wharf's end. His red couch bore northeast and southwest, so that he
might not lose good sleep by opposing his body to the flow of magnetic
currents.
On this night he drew out from a hole in the upholstery of the couch a
bag of stenciled canvas, which chinked. It was full of money, in gold
and silver pieces. He counted it, and sat thoughtful.


Pages:
319 320 321 322 323 324 325 326 327 328 329 330 331 332 333 334 335 336 337 338 339 340 341 342 343