This, in turn, gave access to the chart-room and to a stairway that led down into the cabin quarters beneath.
I peeped into the chart-room and was greeted with a smile by Captain West.

He was lolling back comfortably in a swing chair, his feet cocked on the desk opposite.

On a broad, upholstered couch sat the pilot.

Both were smoking cigars; and, lingering for a moment to listen to the conversation, I grasped that the pilot was an ex-sea-captain.
As I descended the stairs, from Miss West's room came a sound of humming and bustling, as she settled her belongings.

The energy she displayed, to judge by the cheerful noises of it, was almost perturbing.
Passing by the pantry, I put my head inside the door to greet the steward and courteously let him know that I was aware of his existence.