The Improbable Journeys of Billy Battles

After leaving the dining room, I took a quick turn around the promenade deck and then returned to my cabin. It was a little after nine o'clock and I had just settled down at my writing desk when I heard a loud and insistent knock on my door.

Probably Potts, checking to see if I needed anything before turning in, I recall thinking. 

However, when I opened the door my eyes widened and I shuffled backward a couple of steps. It wasn't Potts. It was Katharina Schreiber.

I must have gasped audibly because Katharina said, "I'm sorry. Did I startle you?"

"No...Uh...I just wasn't expecting to see YOU standing in my doorway."

"Believe me, it is not my usual practice to go knocking on the doors of men I hardly know, but this is an exceptional situation."

"Yes, well...won't you come in?"

"I'd rather not...would you mind coming out on the deck?" She didn't wait for an answer but turned and walked slowly to the promenade deck railing some 10-feet away where she stopped and stood looking out at the black ocean. I grabbed my slouch hat and shut the door behind me.

As I walked across the deck to join her, I wondered what to make of Katharina Schreiber. Yes, she was statuesque, an elegant beauty, highly intelligent, well educated, sophisticated. Any man would relish her company. Yet, I also detected a callousness in her, a distinct harshness that seemed strange and out of place in a woman of such refinement and loveliness. At the time, I didn't understand why this was the case. However, I was soon to learn why. 

After I joined her, we both stood at the ship's railing in awkward silence for the next several moments. I was waiting for Katharina to explain why she wanted to talk to me, but she seemed content to stare out at the glabrous black sea. The only sounds were the dull, vibrating hum of the ship's engines and the soft splash of water against the hull as the ship sliced through the ocean. It was about 9:30 and a full moon irradiated the ocean with shimmering thread-like streaks of pale light. 

I found myself stealing quick but meticulous glances at Katharina's profile silhouetted against the dim running lights of the ship. She stood about five-feet, ten-inches tall, maybe four inches shorter than I was. Her beauty was breathtaking. She seemed perfect in almost every physical feature. Still, it was her personality, her caustic behavior that detracted from that stunning physical beauty. Until I met Katharina Schreiber, I was sure my late Mallie was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Of course, Mallie was also beautiful inside where it actually counted. I wasn't so sure about the widow Schreiber. 

I was still debating that issue when Katharina broke the silence.

"Mr. Battles, I need your help."

I was not expecting that. "My help?"

"Yes," she said, her voice quavering. Then she continued.  Her words were barely above a whisper. "I don't want to sound overly histrionic, but it really is a matter of life and death...and Deputy Captain Partington informed me that you are a Deputy U.S. Marshal..."

"That's a bit of a stretch...I haven't worn any kind of badge for years and even then I am not sure how legitimate it was..."

"But Mr. Partington said you showed him and Captain Kreitz your badge..."

I began to explain why I had shown them my U.S. Marshal's badge, but Katharina interjected before I got very far.

"Of course, if you aren't willing to help me then I shall bid you good evening." 

I wondered if Katharina was being facetious. After all, I had experienced the widow Schreiber's razor-sharp cleverness at the dinner table. When I turned to look at her, however, I was met with a face that was obviously distraught. Her lips and chin were trembling; her bright green eyes were damp and glistened brightly in the pale light, and her knuckles were clutching the railing so tightly that they were turning white. 

"I apologize...It's simply that I didn't think you meant it for real play..."

"I am serious," she rasped. "This is not a matter of any flippancy."

I didn't know what to say. I cleared my throat, but my words came out gravelly and dissonant.

"Mrs. Schreiber, I did not mean to make light of your, uh, situation..."

"What situation?" she demanded, her voice rising sharply. "I haven't even explained anything yet."

"I am sorry...I..."

Before I could finish, she held up her hand and shook her head. "No, no, please forgive me; I am sure I sound a bit vague and mysterious." 

With that, she placed her hand softly on my arm. It was the first time she had touched me and I felt an electric flash as adrenaline surged through my body. My posture went suddenly rigid with legs and arms firmly tensed. I shuddered noticeably.  

"Are you alright?" she asked, quickly removing her hand from my arm.

I covered my mouth with my hand and coughed quietly.

"I think I may be coming down with something," I lied. 

"Perhaps we should leave this to another time..."

"No, it is Okay. Please continue."

We stood there for another 5 minutes or so as she related one of the most extraordinary stories I had ever heard.

It seems the widow Schreiber had been a bit judicious with the facts at the Captain's table that first night aboard ship. Her German husband had indeed passed on; she was a widow; she had indeed grown up in Chicago of German parentage; and she was on her way to The Philippines to join her brother. That much was true. However, the rest of her story was almost unbelievable. 

"I am a widow because I killed my husband," Katharina suddenly declared. Her eyes were focused keenly on me as if looking to see what my reaction to that astounding bit of news might be. I am sure I flinched a bit as her words sunk in.

"You, uh, killed your husband...?"  

 Katharina quickly interrupted before I could say more.   

"Yes...but you will note that I told you I killed my husband, not that I murdered him."

"That seems like a rather fine distinction."