The Ginger Tree Read Online Free Page A

and was just waiting for me to walk over to the piano to make sure, perhaps preparing to say something to the people around her, who were men. I wanted to run from the smoking-room and down to the cabin and I was very hot, and could feel the flush coming again which would make me look dreadful. I wondered for a minute if I might escape by saying that I felt faint and must go out on deck, but put away this idea because it would be running from something I had said I would do. It seemed as though everyone in those other seats was staring at us and from the burning I felt in my face I was sure it was now bright red. Suddenly Dr Waterford leaned towards me and said: ‘No one seems to be thinking about refreshment for the entertainers. I feel the need of some Dutch courage myself, and how would you fancy a lemon squash, Miss Mackenzie?’
    Though I was sure he only made the suggestion because I looked as if I might burst into flames, I was very grateful for his consideration and thanked him. He went off to the hatch himself instead of calling one of the Goanese stewards, and while he was away the Judge announced thefirst item which was to be general singing of a song he said we all knew that had been made famous by none other than Miss Marie Lloyd. I did not know the song. I had heard of Miss Lloyd, of course, but Mama does not approve of music halls, so I never saw her on the stage. I have only been to the theatre three times, once to see a Shakespeare play, The Tempest and twice to Gilbert and Sullivan operas. The Judge led the singing in a voice that must have been quite good when he was young, a baritone, and it was mostly the men in the audience who took up the chorus, I did not hear any ladies’ voices at all, though the Swatow Consul’s wife was waving time with her ivory fan. I knew that Mrs C, if she was listening, would be shocked by the words, which were something about how a little of what you fancy does you good.
    The men were still roaring that chorus when Dr Waterford came back with the refreshment, and I thought the lemon squash had rather a queer taste, not as sweet as I had been expecting, but I was grateful for it, and after even a few sips began to feel a little better. The doctor seemed to be enjoying his Dutch courage, and had been long enough at the hatch to empty a glass before the one in his hand. I noticed that the Swatow lady was drinking what looked very like whisky, too. I knew by then that Mrs C had been right about one thing, Mama would not have wished me to be at this drinking concert, let alone have me perform. Already some of the men, and they were not from the Second Class, were making loud jokes in one corner and the Judge was forced to call for silence before he announced the next item which was the First Officer reciting ‘The Charge of the Light Brigade’ by Lord Tennyson. It is not a piece I care for. During it I sat thinking that I hated the voile dress and would never wear it again.
    The next performer was a man who must be more than forty whom I have watched playing shuffleboard, but not spoken to. The Judge said he was a tin mine engineer from somewhere in Malaya, and the man explained before he sang, unaccompanied, that his is quite a lonely life and that he has entertained himself by collecting native songs, the one that he was going to sing being from his Chinese coolies. It was a very strange little tune, if you could call it that, and sung in native language, quite meaningless, but I rather liked it, and I clapped quite hard for anencore which he must have heard, for he looked at me, then smiled and said he would give us a Malay song, this time about a lover lamenting his faithless sweetheart. I had the feeling he looked at me quite often while singing, which made me uncomfortable and some of the men, who perhaps understood the Malaya language, were laughing at the words as though they were suggestive. I didn’t like the Malaya song at all. Also, I was beginning to become very