Anthony's cabin. They stooped over the corpse. Captain
Anthony lifted up the shoulders.
Mr. Powell shuddered. "I'll never forget that interminable journey
across the saloon, step by step, holding our breath. For part of the way
the drawn half of the curtain concealed us from view had Mrs. Anthony
opened her door; but I didn't draw a free breath till after we laid the
body down on the swinging cot. The reflection of the saloon light left
most of the cabin in the shadow. Mr. Smith's rigid, extended body looked
shadowy too, shadowy and alive. You know he always carried himself as
stiff as a poker. We stood by the cot as though waiting for him to make
us a sign that he wanted to be left alone. The captain threw his arm
over my shoulder and said in my very ear: "The steward'll find him in the
morning."
"I made no answer. It was for him to say. It was perhaps the best way.
It's no use talking about my thoughts. They were not concerned with
myself, nor yet with that old man who terrified me more now than when he
was alive. Him whom I pitied was the captain.
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