Free Rich Man's Coffin by K Martin Gardner Page A

efficiency because you are getting more per whale.   By next year, there will be so many new ships down here in need of working stations, anyone with any experience with us will be a prime candidate for capitalizing on the business and setting up a station of their own somewhere down the coast.   Does that sound like something you’d be interested in, Black Jack?”   Happy asked, as he concluded.
    Black Jack stared at him, mesmerized. He closed his mouth and slurped the drool that had begun to pool behind his lips. “Yeah, sure,” he said, choking back a cough.
    Happy cocked his chin proudly in profile, emptying his glass full-tilt. He slammed it down. “Good!” he exclaimed. “Whose shout is it?”
    “Enough talk about business, Black Jack. Look at the females in this place!”   Groggy uttered.
     
                                                              V
              The din of the crowd was a roar now, with tight clusters of close friends being circled by aimless souls and the few luckless lonely.   Black Jack’s eyes drifted over the crowd as the foggy chatter of Groggy and Happy droned in the background.   The room had become a warm, uninhibited stage where people played in a plotless drama.   There were countless crusty and hardened men, now mellowed by imbibing, recounting numerous similar yet all-important sea stories to one another in loud voices.   There was the odd wistful loner, standing precariously or milling between conversations, acting invisible.   There were groups of women, along the walls and with tables all to themselves; gibbering, gabbing, and cackling while bobbing their heads and sniggering about various men and things.   And then there was her .
    Black Jack had noticed her only since his fourth grog, when he had pulled out his harmonica and played a few whimsical notes in the mood of the moment. Now she seemed to be everywhere at once.   He noticed her when she squeezed behind him and his mates, her ample hips and bosom brushing his back.   She had to turn her silver platter on its side and hold it above her as she pushed through.   It barely grazed his head as it caught light and shone a corona about his crown.   Black Jack noticed her again cruising along the wall and weaving through crowds like a nimble mink, hoarding forgotten glasses while she shot shy looks at him.   Black Jack would catch a glimpse of her now and again walking quickly to and fro behind the bar, busying herself with different tasks and waving and smiling to the occasional mate.   But most importantly, Black Jack noticed her when, late in the evening, she stopped short of walking through the kitchen door, turned her head fully around, and stared him dead in the eye from across the crowded pub.   Tick, tock , went the clock, as she held her chilling glare. She whipped her long, black hair, letting the door slam behind her as she magically disappeared.
    “Did you see that?”   Black Jack asked his jabbering mates.
    “Excuse me, see what, mate?”   Groggy snapped, before turning back to Happy with a disapproving grimace and shaking his head.
    Black Jack had been the sole target and witness of her display.   He knew that look that she had given him.   He realized that it had stirred something inside him.   He began to float away, to rise above the clamor of the crowd and glide across the room.   His senses became sharper.   Her exit had gone unnoticed by everyone else. No one had twitched.   But for Black Jack, it had jarred loose some deep feeling that he searched his cobwebbed mind for.   Back in the corner of the attic he found it:   It was desire .   Driven by his discovery, he made his way through the crowd like a stealthy wolf.   At the point where she had vanished, he looked around and feigned the moronic actions of a drunkard looking for a loo. When no one was watching, he slipped silently through the