No Longer at Ease Read Online Free Page B

Liverpool Docks, and resumed her conversation with Mrs. Wright.
    The boat left the docks at 11 A.M . For the rest of the day Obi kept to himself, watching the sea or reading in his cabin. It was his first sea voyage, and he had already decided that it was infinitely better than flying.
    He woke up the following morning without any sign ofthe much talked about seasickness. He had a warm bath before any of the other passengers were up, and went to the rails to look at the sea. Last evening it had been so placid. Now it had become an endless waste of restless, jaggy hillocks topped with white. Obi stood at the rails for nearly an hour drinking in the unspoilt air. “They that go down to the sea in ships …” he remembered. He had very little religion nowadays, but he was nevertheless deeply moved.
    When the gong sounded for breakfast his appetite was as keen as the morning air. The seating arrangement had been fixed on the previous day. There was a big central table which seated ten, and six little two-seaters ranged round the room. Eight of the twelve passengers sat on the middle table with the captain at the head and the chief engineer at the other end. Obi sat between Macmillan and a Nigerian civil servant called Stephen Udom. Directly in front of him was Mr. Jones, who was something or other in the United Africa Company. Mr. Jones always worked solidly through four of the five heavy courses and then announced to the steward with self-righteous continence: “Just coffee,” with the emphasis on the “just.”
    In contrast to Mr. Jones, the chief engineer hardly touched his food. Watching his face, one would think they had served him portions of Epsom Salts, rhubarb, and mist. alba. He held his shoulders up, his arms pressed against his sides as though he was in constant fear of evacuating.
    Clara sat on Mr. Jones’s left, but Obi studiously refused to look in her direction. She was talking with an EducationOfficer from Ibadan who was explaining to her the difference between language and dialect.
    At first the Bay of Biscay was very calm and collected. The boat was now heading towards a horizon where the sky was light, seeming to hold out a vague promise of sunshine. The sea’s circumference was no longer merged with the sky, but stood out in deep clear contrast like a giant tarmac from which God’s aeroplane might take off. Then as evening approached, the peace and smoothness vanished quite suddenly. The sea’s face was contorted with anger. Obi felt slightly dizzy and top-heavy. When he went down for supper he merely looked at his food. One or two passengers were not there at all. The others ate almost in silence.
    Obi returned to his cabin and was going straight to bed when someone tapped at his door. He opened and it was Clara.
    “I noticed you were not looking very well,” she said in Ibo, “so I brought you some tablets of Avomine.” She gave him an envelope with half a dozen white tablets in it. “Take two before you go to bed.”
    “Thank you very much. It’s so kind of you.” Obi was completely overwhelmed and all the coldness and indifference he had rehearsed deserted him. “But,” he stammered, “am I not depriving you of er …”
    “Oh, no. I’ve got enough for all the passengers, that’s the advantage of having a nurse on board.” She smiled faintly. “I’ve just given some to Mrs. Wright and Mr. Macmillan. Good night, you’ll feel better in the morning.”
    All night Obi rolled from one edge of the bed to theother in sympathy with the fitful progress of the little ship groaning and creaking in the darkness. He could neither sleep nor keep awake. But somehow he was able to think about Clara most of the night, a few seconds at a time. He had taken a firm decision not to show any interest in her. And yet when he had opened the door and seen her, his joy and confusion must have been very plain. And she had treated him just like another patient. “I have enough for all the passengers,”