Chapter Twenty-Nine
From the Reader’s Digest, April, 1946:
From Picturesque Speech and Patter: "Join the Navy
and See What’s Left of the World" (A. Cramer)
When you’re a day out to sea there’s very little that anyone can do to help you if you’ve a man overboard. Actually there’s very little to be done for either of you. The instant I was sure that Paul Donner was not on the ship I went to the purser and he called the captain and together they assured me of the above. They certainly couldn’t turn the boat around and slow down to a walk just to search through the open waters that surrounded our long-lost wake. They contacted the coast guard and gave them our position and our relative position and our approximate path through the calm seas.
"You’re lucky," someone said to me, "that we’ve had calm seas so far. Otherwise a search wouldn’t even be practical let alone possible."
"Lucky," I thought. "How lucky can I get?"
"If he’s alive," Captain von Milzner told me, "they’ll find him and get him back to safe harbor in New York."
"If he is alive, he’s got to be on this ship," I said. "He’s got contracts in Europe and London."
"Contracts?"
"Yes. He’s Paul Donner. The Opera star?"
"So, you’re saying he’s someone important, then?"
"He’s very important," I informed this Norwegian lout who, it turned out, wasn’t the captain, but only a staff captain - a very different position on board a liner. The real captain was upstairs somewhere in his cabin keeping us on course and on time. Clearly that was more important to him than finding the passenger he’d lost on his first night out of port.
"We’ll inform you when there’s news," said the staff captain.
"Instantly!" I shouted at him. "Do you understand that command? Instantly!"
I hadn’t meant it to sound so huffy and imperious, but the demanding goddess in me comes out in times of deep stress.
"In the meantime, sir," the Norwegian said to me, "would you mind very much if we continue with the work that will both protect our other passengers and impress you with our care for your person."
"Just find him," I said, adding a "please" at the end. He actually gave me an encouraging nod and extended his right arm to give my left shoulder a double pat.
What I really wanted and needed was for someone to find Paul, find him well and unharmed. That was all I wanted. It didn’t seem a daunting task, not to me. It seemed very doable, very achievable a goal. By mid-day, however, after a second life-boat drill during which they hoped to discover, what..? that someone else was missing too? It seemed like a solution. It felt possible that Paul had met someone else and spent the night and day away.
With the sounding of the alarm came that inevitable combination of shock and anger as people shuffled to their assigned places a second time in two days. You could see that there was an excitement level at work here. It made sense to believe that there was a danger at hand. The seas were calm, the sky was clear, the ship wasn’t rocking, but there was that odd touch of autumn in the air, a chill that couldn’t be defined. When the captain finally called the all-clear and people were shuffling along the decks to their stairwells, that sense of ‘strange’ had clearly altered into something harsh and hostile.
I was taken to the purser’s office and told to wait there. Apparently there was news. I waited. I waited a while, almost a half hour, before I got antsy. I picked up the telephone on the purser’s desk and jiggled the button until the operator responded.
"What exchange?" she said.
"Just get the captain," I responded.
"Aye, aye," came her response.
I waited a moment, then there was a clicking sound in the ear-piece, then a whistle, then some more clicking. Then a voice came on.
"This is the Bridge."
"I want to speak to the captain," I said.
"Captain’s on his way below," said the man.
"To where?"
"Purser’s office," came the reply.
"Thanks!" I quickly hung up the phone and waited again. It wasn’t even a minute before the purser and the captain arrived. At a gesture from the captain, I sat down again.
"There is no good news, I’m afraid," said the man in charge.
"What does that mean?"
"It means, sir, that we have not found a trace of your companion aboard this ship. He was the only person not at his station during the drill."
"I see."
"Are you certain, sir, that he was aboard at the time we weighed anchor?"
"Of course he was! We had a bon voyage party, said goodbye to the guests and then I went up onto the Promenade deck for our departure. He was here."
"He was with you at that time, for departure?"
"Well, no. He was in the cabin, I think."
"But you’re not certain." I shook my head. I really wasn’t sure at all about what he had done, or where he might have gone.
"Can anyone attest to the facts of your whereabouts, sir?" That startled me.
"Well, I...yes, I think so. I fell coming up to the Promenade deck and another passenger helped me up and stayed with me on deck." I gave them Drew’s name and his cabin number. They thanked me and told me I could return to my own cabin, if I liked. I got up, a bit numb, wondering if I was suddenly a suspect in something. That was how it felt. I was at the door when the captain’s voice, asking one more question, stopped me.
"One last thing, sir. When did you know your friend was missing? And how?"
"I explained about the ship turning and Drew’s advice about lifeboat drill and my returning to the cabin in time to hear the announcement. I told him about checking for Paul, waiting for Paul, not waiting for Paul and not finding Paul. I gave every detail I could remember. He nodded as I spoke, than he thanked me again when I’d finished. I exited the room feeling hot flashes and perspiring. I was a suspect, I knew. I was the object of observation and witness endorsement. They thought I had done something to Paul. It was ridiculous, but that was the operating theory.
I wondered if I should try to contact Drew and warn him about this, but I instantly knew that if I did that I would be even more a suspect. I decided to go to one of the many bars on the ship and order a drink. My nerves were truly jangled by now and I needed something to steady them.
I went aft to a nice cocktail bar with a piano and a dark corner or two. I ordered a scotch and soda, took a seat and watched the ship’s wake in the distance. One or two other people were seated in the room and there was a hush in the place which, along with the scotch, soothed my spirits. I started to regain my composure. I was mellowing out when a steward approached my table and, without a word, placed a folded note on the table before me.
"What’s this?" I asked.
"From Mr. Donner, sir," the steward said. I must have jumped a foot in the air without trying.
"What? What does that mean?"
"Mr. Donner, sir. He left this note for you yesterday. He said when you came in I was to give it to you."
"When did you see him? Jeffers?" I could see his name on the metal bar over the pocket of his pristine white jacket.
"He came in just before we left the dock, sir. I was the only one in here at that time, and he handed me the note, pointed you out to me, there at the railing with the other gentleman, and told me to give you this note when you came in, and not a moment before."
"He..." I wanted to read the note. I gave him a nod, but he stood where he was. I reached into my pocket and took out a dollar and handed it to him. He gave me a smile and backed up a step. "Wait. Please call the purser’s office and tell him I’m here and want to see him."
"Certainly, sir." And he was gone.
I opened the note that Paul Donner had left for me. I read it, couldn’t quite believe what it said, closed it, reopened it as though I hadn’t seen it before and read it again.
"I believed you, Max," it began, "when you said that your chum, Mikhael, meant nothing to you. I believed you. I did so because I wanted to believe you. This voyage was to cement our relationship, to restore the faith I had in you when I brought you into this world of mine. But we haven’t even left port and you are in another man’s arms. That is more than I can bear. I’m leaving the ship. You will pack my things and have them placed in Cunard’s care when the ship arrives in England. I will have them picked up. I don’t want you to contact me. I don’t want you to come back to me. I finally know you for the man you are, and probably were trained to be. I have never felt so betrayed before, Max. Never felt so insulted. Enjoy your stay in Europe. You know the itinerary. It is all paid for. I won’t stop you from enjoying it. I just don’t want to see you again. Ever. You are on your own now. I am dead to you. Paul"
When the Purser arrived I handed him the note without a word. I motioned to the steward to join us and he did. He told his story about Paul writing and handing him the note. The purser asked to keep it for a while, to show the captain. I nodded and the two of them went away again, leaving me alone to wonder how stupid the world around could possibly be, how stupid, jealous and odd. I was wronged, not trusted by the one person in whom I had confided and trusted. Everything I had built was demolished. There was nothing left for me.
"There you are. I’ve been wondering," came the words in the voice of the man whose accidental encounter with me had triggered this life-altering change. "Are you all right? Is there anything, anything at all, I can do?"
I didn’t want to say yes, but I knew now that I must say yes. My fate was indeed what my mother had foreseen so many years earlier. I was in need, for real. Here was my route, laid out before me. Here was my answer. I hated myself for a moment, then I smiled nicely at Drew and moved over on the banquette, making room for a new protector.
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