SERIES 2: THE HUMBOLDT INCIDENT PART I OF III --------------- This section would be inserted immediately after Chapter 10 of The Poe Shadow. --------------- Everyone who came into contact with Duponte on the deck of the Humboldt treated him with respect and a measure of deference – his fierceness of intelligence was visible as soon as you met him. However, rather than the admiration his demeanor struck in my own heart, the gestures of other passengers suggested an inclination to believe Duponte arrogant and supercilious. The ladies onboard the ship from Europe to America harbored a similarly unprovoked abhorrence of Duponte, almost a jealousy. I would suggest that the female sex requires, by nature and especially by American breeding, far more attention than men. Meanwhile, Duponte, though inwardly cognizant of everything, does not exhibit the superficial courtesies thought so important by the modern world as signposts of civility. My proximity to my traveling companion meant the unsociable attitudes were extended to me as well. There was genius among us – ignored and thought to be of less interest than the dullest man of business onboard. It is impossible to refrain from mentioning that there was a special coldness existing between the young women on the steamer and myself. Several single women in particular became notorious for celebrating their freedom from seasickness by flirting shamelessly with the young men onboard. Perhaps this could not be prevented, within daily quarters that crammed even bachelors and married women close together. I made it quite clear that I had no intention of participating in games. "What a tame affair you are," said one of the men with a laugh. In a careless action one evening, this same man, whose surname was Francis, saluted a certain married lady in the grand saloon. The private gesture was caught in the dozen mirrors that lined the saloon. The act was whispered about on deck and in staterooms, particularly among the ladies. It was said that even the lady's husband, Mr. Bailey, had heard something about it, though he gave no outward indication of it. The embarrassed Francis held me responsible for spreading the rumor, because I had been reading a novel nearby in the saloon when his unwise act had occurred. I do not humor myself that the latent hostility that had already developed toward Duponte and myself did not play some role in his prejudice against me. I avoided him, which was easy, as he was usually occupied in playing shuffleboard on deck (or "shovel-board," as he and some of the other Europeans still called it). One evening Francis found me alone in the ship's library, a circumstance I did not relish. I pretended to see only my reading, but backed slowly toward the wall and kept one eye always on him. You understand by now, I am not one to seek out confrontation even when it presents itself. "Well?" he asked. "Pardon me?" Then, taking a definite step toward me, Francis muttered angrily, "Those damned mirrors!" He began to walk out, but before he did, he turned and sneered. "Don't believe this is over, Clark." * Passengers lolled on deck of the Humboldt waiting for the ringing of the bell to break their boredom from playing games and becoming lazy with wine. Breakfast at 8, lunch at 12, dinner at 3, tea at 7, supper at 10; eating was all that was done onboard and it was always kept running in apple-pie order. It was a wonder there was no meal served in the dead of the night. At the dining table, Duponte and I were still seated by the steward in the least desirable seats, farthest away from the captain. I did not mind, as I preferred to talk in Duponte's private ear. Duponte, for the most part, remained below deck. Sometimes he would suggest taking some air and we would walk along the quarterdeck. It happened on one of these morning walks that the strong headwind induced both of us not to say more than a few words. I left Duponte at the rail and wandered across deck. When I returned, I found Mr. Francis and a few other men standing with Duponte. They were vehemently gesturing at Duponte. "See here, what is the matter over here?" I asked. "Ah, there you are, Clark. Your parley vou friend, that's what's the matter," said Francis. "What of him?" Francis continued. "First, you ignore the rest of us as though we're not good enough. Now this." "Tell me what in the land you're speaking about," I demanded. Francis explained that a piece of paper had been left in front of his door, and he found it upon rising that morning. It had been slipped under the door during the night. This paper was the apparent source of his consternation. "Very well," I replied. "What did it say?" "That is just it! I do not know!" He said it was filled with some kind of strange cipher, symbols and secret writing. The steward then showed me the document, which was indeed written in some sort of inexplicable hieroglyphic. "I do not understand why you should think it was Monsieur Duponte who wrote this," I said. "Who else aboard this ship is peculiar enough to write this?" the steward replied. Duponte merely stood and stared out peacefully at the water. "Well, my dear Napoleon-lover," Francis said accusingly to my companion. "Well, Duponte? What do you say about this?" "I cannot remember ever having less to say on any topic, actually," answered Duponte agreeably. "So, you threaten me and then you're too cowardly to speak up, are you?" said Francis. "Now, why do you suppose these peculiar writings are a threat?" I said. "Do you know what the symbols on that paper mean?" Francis asked me. "No, I don't," I answered. "And neither do I! Now I call that a threat, if nothing else." "This is nonsense!" I interjected. "Leave him be. Do not disturb us again, gentleman." "Not so quickly," the steward said with relish, snapping away the paper as though I had tried to steal it from him. "Threatening one's fellow passenger is a serious offense. Your friend can be locked away when we reach Baltimore, if you're not careful." "Locked away!" Duponte cried, chuckling at the idea. But in my eyes these men had just taken on a most dangerous air.