In this chapter, the plot plods along a little bit, and the girls share some time alone. All characters are at least eighteen and are fictional.
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Karen Waters, the Stepdaughter of Mrs. Waters, only briefly greeted her Stepmother in passing as she made her way to her cabin forward of the mainmast. It had been a long trying day, and all she wanted were some peace and quiet, and perhaps a little sympathetic petting from her friend. On her way through the dining area, she saw her brother greeting a good-looking young man she'd never seen before. Other than causing a quick second look, the man didn't strike her as anyone extraordinary.
It was only on greeting her friend Mary who was sitting on the bunk that she had cause for concern. After kissing one another gently and squeezing each other close, Mary blurted out the question, "Did you see him?"
"I've seen enough men for one day, dear," Karen sighed.
"I mean the new one. He came aboard today while you were gone," Mary said.
"I did notice someone new as I passed a moment ago. He's quite ornamental," Karen said wearily.
"Well, I don't like him. How do we know we can trust him? He might be a murderer, or a pirate, or even a rapist," said Mary, now getting excited.
"Perhaps he is all three. I believe they are not mutually exclusive," Karen replied calmly.
Karen had been hoping for a bit of comforting but found herself in the position of the comforter. Mary was the anxious one, the worrier, the most likely to become upset. It was probably because her family was relatively impoverished, as were most families compared to Karen's. Perhaps she was just made that way. But for whatever reason, it was clear Karen's friend's concerns must come first.
A knock on the cabin door preceded an excited query from outside, "Karen, what's the news? Are you engaged?"
"Later, Mother. I've got a headache!" answered Karen.
"I'm dying to hear all about it. Maybe after dinner, then?"
"Yes, after dinner, Mother."
Karen took off the long, loose-fitting dress she was wearing, revealing the bathing suit she wore underneath. It was a twin of the one Mary had been wearing when she dove in to save James. In other words, it was quite revealing. It showed Karen's legs bare almost entirely, her slender arms, and even her shoulders. Black and white, it contrasted well with her long blond hair.
"Lay down on the bunk and tell me what is bothering you, dear," she said softly to Mary.
Mary was the younger of the two by a few months, but she looked like Karen's older sister. This was because she was taller and bustier. It was a beautiful sight. Karen sat, gently stroking Mary's billowy golden-red hair, saying, "There, there, little one. Tell me about this bad man."
There is no need to repeat the story. Mary's version followed the official account for the most part. She downplayed any unpleasantness she had experienced during the rescue proper. The horror she felt at Tea was another thing altogether. She harped on the disappearing cake and biscuits. You'd think she didn't believe such things were made for eating. The way she described it, James might as well have been looting the family jewels.
When it came to the young man's nakedness, she didn't even mention his shrunken member. She got her disgust across to her friend by shuddering from head to toe. Karen could understand the feeling completely since she was no fan of public nudity, especially the male variety. Such behavior was beyond the pale unless the man was an actor of stage or screen. Then this same stunt and appearance would be considered by the press to be merely raffish instead, fodder for public consumption.
Karen pondered the matter silently while stroking Mary's hair. Could the good-looking young man be a publicity-seeking actor? She imagined the headline, "Mr. X, The Well Known Actor Rescued By Millionaire's Daughter's Friend."
Of course, it would have been better had it been the millionaire's daughter responsible for the rescue. For one thing, the headline would be snapper, but how could Mr. X have known who would have been available? Besides, the facts were tricky things for the press, especially the theatrical kind. She wouldn't be surprised if the last word was left off the headline. If called on it by someone in the know, the paper could cite the reason was lack of space.
