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diff --git a/9309-h/9309-h.htm b/9309-h/9309-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c4752b7 --- /dev/null +++ b/9309-h/9309-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10609 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of In a Steamer Chair and Other Shipboard Stories, by Robert Barr</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.right {text-align: right; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.footnote {font-size: 90%; + text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> +</head> +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of In a Steamer Chair and Other Shipboard Stories, by Robert Barr</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: In a Steamer Chair<br/> + and Other Shipboard Stories</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Robert Barr</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: September 19, 2003 [eBook #9309]<br /> +[Most recently updated: November 23, 2022]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Juliet Sutherland, David Widger and PG Distributed Proofreaders</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN A STEAMER CHAIR ***</div> + +<h1>In a Steamer Chair</h1> + +<h3>and Other Shipboard Stories</h3> + +<h2 class="no-break">by Robert Barr<br/> +(Luke Sharp)</h2> + +<hr /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>A PRELIMINARY WORD</h2> + +<p> +As the incidents related herein took place during voyages between England and +America, I dedicate this book to the Vagabond Club of London, and the +Witenagemote Club of Detroit, in the hope that, if any one charges me with +telling a previously told tale, the fifty members of each club will rise as one +man and testify that they were called upon to endure the story in question from +my own lips prior to the alleged original appearance of the same. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +R. B. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Table of Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap1">In a Steamer Chair</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap2">Mrs. Tremain</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap3">Share and Share Alike</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap4">An International Bow</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap5">A Ladies’ Man</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap6">A Society for the Reformation of Poker Players</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap7">The Man Who was Not on the Passenger List</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap8">The Terrible Experience of Plodkins</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap9">A Case of Fever</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap10">How the Captain Got His Steamer Out</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap11">My Stowaway</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap12">The Purser’s Story</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap13">Miss McMillan</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap1">In a Steamer Chair</a></h2> + +<h3>The First Day</h3> + +<p> +Mr. George Morris stood with his arms folded on the bulwarks of the steamship +<i>City of Buffalo</i>, and gazed down into the water. All around him was the +bustle and hurry of passengers embarking, with friends bidding good-bye. Among +the throng, here and there, the hardworking men of the steamer were getting +things in order for the coming voyage. Trunks were piled up in great heaps +ready to be lowered into the hold; portmanteaux, satchels, and hand-bags, with +tags tied to them, were placed in a row waiting to be claimed by the +passengers, or taken down into the state-rooms. To all this bustle and +confusion George Morris paid no heed. He was thinking deeply, and his thoughts +did not seem to be very pleasant. There was nobody to see him off, and he had +evidently very little interest in either those who were going or those who were +staying behind. Other passengers who had no friends to bid them farewell +appeared to take a lively interest in watching the hurry and scurry, and in +picking out the voyagers from those who came merely to say good-bye. +</p> + +<p> +At last the rapid ringing of a bell warned all lingerers that the time for the +final parting had come. There were final hand-shakings, many embraces, and not +a few tears, while men in uniform with stentorian voices cried, “All ashore.” +The second clanging of the bell, and the preparations for pulling up the +gang-planks hurried the laggards to the pier. After the third ringing the +gang-plank was hauled away, the inevitable last man sprang to the wharf, the +equally inevitable last passenger, who had just dashed up in a cab, flung his +valises to the steward, was helped on board the ship, and then began the low +pulsating stroke, like the beating of a heart, that would not cease until the +vessel had sighted land on the other side. George Morris’s eyes were fixed on +the water, yet apparently he was not looking at it, for when it began to spin +away from the sides of the ship he took no notice, but still gazed at the mass +of seething foam that the steamer threw off from her as she moved through the +bay. It was evident that the sights of New York harbour were very familiar to +the young man, for he paid no attention to them, and the vessel was beyond +Sandy Hook before he changed his position. It is doubtful if he would have +changed it then, had not a steward touched him on the elbow, and said— +</p> + +<p> +“Any letters, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“Any what?” cried Morris, suddenly waking up from his reverie. +</p> + +<p> +“Any letters, sir, to go ashore with the pilot?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, letters. No, no, I haven’t any. You have a regular post-office on +</p> + +<p> +board, have you? Mail leaves every day?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir,” replied the steward with a smile, “not <i>every</i> day, sir. We +</p> + +<p> +send letters ashore for passengers when the pilot leaves the ship. The next +mail, sir, will leave at Queenstown.” +</p> + +<p> +The steward seemed uncertain as to whether the passenger was trying to joke +with him or was really ignorant of the ways of steamships. However, his tone +was very deferential and explanatory, not knowing but that this particular +passenger might come to his lot at the table, and stewards take very good care +to offend nobody. Future fees must not be jeopardized. +</p> + +<p> +Being aroused, Mr. Morris now took a look around him. It seemed wonderful how +soon order had been restored from the chaos of the starting. The trunks had +disappeared down the hold; the portmanteaux were nowhere to be seen. Most of +the passengers apparently were in their state-rooms exploring their new +quarters, getting out their wraps, Tam-o-Shanters, fore-and-aft caps, steamer +chairs, rugs, and copies of paper-covered novels. The deck was almost deserted, +yet here and there a steamer chair had already been placed, and one or two were +occupied. The voyage had commenced. The engine had settled down to its regular +low thud, thud; the vessel’s head rose gracefully with the long swell of the +ocean, and, to make everything complete, several passengers already felt that +inward qualm—the accompaniment of so many ocean voyages. George Morris +yawned, and seemed the very picture of <i>ennui.</i> He put his hands deeply +into his coat pockets, and sauntered across the deck. Then he took a stroll up +the one side and down the other. As he lounged along it was very evident that +he was tired of the voyage, even before it began. Judging from his listless +manner nothing on earth could arouse the interest of the young man. The gong +sounded faintly in the inner depths of the ship somewhere announcing dinner. +Then, as the steward appeared up the companion way, the sonorous whang, whang +became louder, and the hatless official, with the gong in hand, beat that +instrument several final strokes, after which he disappeared into the regions +below. +</p> + +<p> +“I may as well go down,” said Morris to himself, “and see where they have +placed me at table. But I haven’t much interest in dinner.” +</p> + +<p> +As he walked to the companion-way an elderly gentleman and a young lady +appeared at the opposite door, ready to descend the stairs. Neither of them saw +the young man. But if they had, one of them at least would have doubted the +young man’s sanity. He stared at the couple for a moment with a look of +grotesque horror on his face that was absolutely comical. Then he turned, and +ran the length of the deck, with a speed unconscious of all obstacles. +</p> + +<p> +“Say,” he cried to the captain, “I want to go ashore. I <i>must</i> go ashore. +I want to go ashore with the pilot.” +</p> + +<p> +The captain smiled, and said, “I shall be very happy to put you ashore, sir, +but it will have to be at Queenstown. The pilot has gone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, it was only a moment ago that the steward asked me if I had any letters +to post. Surely he cannot have gone yet?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is longer than that, I am afraid,” said the captain. “The pilot left the +ship half an hour ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is there no way I can get ashore? I don’t mind what I pay for it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Unless we break a shaft and have to turn back there is no way that I know of. +I am afraid you will have to make the best of it until we reach Queenstown.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t you signal a boat and let me get off on her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I suppose we could. It is a very unusual thing to do. But that would +delay us for some time, and unless the business is of the utmost necessity, I +would not feel justified in delaying the steamer, or in other words delaying +several hundred passengers for the convenience of one. If you tell me what the +trouble is I shall tell you at once whether I can promise to signal a boat if I +get the opportunity of doing so.” +</p> + +<p> +Morris thought for a moment. It would sound very absurd to the captain for him +to say that there was a passenger on the ship whom he desired very much not to +meet, and yet, after all, that was what made the thought of the voyage so +distasteful to him. +</p> + +<p> +He merely said, “Thank you,” and turned away, muttering to himself something in +condemnation of his luck in general. As he walked slowly down the deck up which +he had rushed with such headlong speed a few moments before, he noticed a lady +trying to set together her steamer chair, which had seemingly given way—a +habit of steamer chairs. She looked up appealing at Mr. Morris, but that +gentleman was too preoccupied with his own situation to be gallant. As he +passed her, the lady said— +</p> + +<p> +“Would you be kind enough to see if you can put my steamer chair together?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Morris looked astonished at this very simple request. He had resolved to +make this particular voyage without becoming acquainted with anybody, more +especially a lady. +</p> + +<p> +“Madam,” he said, “I shall be pleased to call to your assistance the deck +steward if you wish.” +</p> + +<p> +“If I had wished that,” replied the lady, with some asperity, “I would have +asked you to do so. As it is, I asked you to fix it yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not understand you,” said Mr. Morris, with some haughtiness. “I do not +see that it matters who mends the steamer chair so long as the steamer chair is +mended. I am not a deck steward.” Then, thinking he had spoken rather harshly, +he added, “I am not a deck steward, and don’t understand the construction of +steamer chairs as well as they do, you see.” +</p> + +<p> +The lady rose. There was a certain amount of indignation in her voice as she +said— +</p> + +<p> +“Then pray allow me to present you with this steamer chair.” +</p> + +<p> +“I—I—really, madam, I do not understand you,” stammered the young +man, astonished at the turn the unsought conversation had taken. +</p> + +<p> +“I think,” replied the lady, “that what I said was plain enough. I beg you to +accept this steamer chair as your own. It is of no further use to me.” +</p> + +<p> +Saying this, the young woman, with some dignity, turned her back upo him, and +disappeared down the companion-way, leaving Morris in a state of utter +bewilderment as he looked down at the broken steamer chair, wondering if the +lady was insane. All at once he noticed a rent in his trousers, between the +knee and the instep. +</p> + +<p> +“Good heavens, how have I done this? My best pair of trousers, too. Gracious!” +he cried, as a bewildered look stole over his face, “it isn’t possible that in +racing up this deck I ran against this steamer chair and knocked it to +flinders, and possibly upset the lady at the same time? By George! that’s just +what the trouble is.” +</p> + +<p> +Looking at the back of the flimsy chair he noticed a tag tied to it, and on the +tag he saw the name, “Miss Katherine Earle, New York.” Passing to the other +side he called the deck steward. +</p> + +<p> +“Steward,” he said, “there is a chair somewhere among your pile with the name +‘Geo. Morris’ on it. Will you get it for me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, sir,” answered the steward, and very shortly the other steamer +chair, which, by the way, was a much more elegant, expensive, and stable affair +than the one that belonged to Miss Katherine Earle, was brought to him. Then he +untied the tag from his own chair and tied it to the flimsy structure that had +just been offered to him; next he untied the tag from the lady’s chair and put +it on his own. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, steward,” he said, “do you know the lady who sat in this chair?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir,” said the steward, “I do not. You see, we are only a few hours out, +sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, you will have no trouble finding her. When she comes on deck again, +please tell her that this chair is hers, with the apologies of the gentleman +who broke her own, and see if you can mend this other chair for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes,” said the steward, “there will be no trouble about that. They are +rather rickety things at best, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, if you do this for me nicely you will not be a financial sufferer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, sir. The dinner gong rang some time ago, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I heard it,” answered Morris. +</p> + +<p> +Placing his hands behind him he walked up and down the deck, keeping an anxious +eye now and then on the companion way. Finally, the young lady whom he had seen +going down with the elderly gentleman appeared alone on deck. Then Morris acted +very strangely. With the stealthy demeanour of an Indian avoiding his deadly +enemy, he slunk behind the different structures on the deck until he reached +the other door of the companion-way, and then, with a sigh of relief, ran down +the steps. There were still quite a number of people in the saloon, and seated +at the side of one of the smaller tables he noticed the lady whose name he +imagined was Miss Katherine Earle. +</p> + +<p> +“My name is Morris,” said that gentleman to the head steward. “Where have you +placed me?” +</p> + +<p> +The steward took him down the long table, looking at the cards beside the row +of plates. +</p> + +<p> +“Here you are, sir,” said the steward. “We are rather crowded this voyage, +sir.” +</p> + +<p> +Morris did not answer him, for opposite he noticed the old gentleman, who had +been the companion of the young lady, lingering over his wine. +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t there any other place vacant? At one of the smaller tables, for +instance? I don’t like to sit at the long table,” said Morris, placing his +finger and thumb significantly in his waistcoat pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“I think that can be arranged, sir,” answered the steward, with a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Is there a place vacant at the table where that young lady is sitting alone?” +said Morris, nodding in the direction. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sir, all the places are taken there; but the gentleman who has been +placed at the head of the table has not come down, sir, and if you like I will +change his card for yours at the long table.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you would.” +</p> + +<p> +So with that he took his place at the head of the small table, and had the +indignant young lady at his right hand. +</p> + +<p> +“There ought to be a master of ceremonies,” began Morris with some hesitation, +“to introduce people to each other on board a steamship. As it is, however, +people have to get acquainted as best they may. My name is Morris, and, unless +I am mistaken, you are Miss Katherine Earle. Am I right?” +</p> + +<p> +“You are right about my name,” answered the young lady, “I presume you ought to +be about your own.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I can prove that,” said Morris, with a smile. “I have letters to show, and +cards and things like that.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he seemed to catch his breath as he remembered there was also a young +woman on board who could vouch that his name was George Morris This took him +aback for a moment, and he was silent. Miss Earle made no reply to his offer of +identification. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Earle,” he said hesitatingly at last, “I wish you would permit me to +apologise to you if I am as culpable as I imagine. <i>Did</i> I run against +your chair and break it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean to say,” replied the young lady, looking at him steadily, “that +you do not <i>know</i> whether you did or not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it’s a pretty hard thing to ask a person to believe, and yet I assure +you that is the fact. I have only the dimmest remembrance of the disaster, as +of something I might have done in a dream. To tell you the truth, I did not +even suspect I had done so until I noticed I had torn a portion of my clothing +by the collision. After you left, it just dawned upon me that I was the one who +smashed the chair. I therefore desire to apologise very humbly, and hope you +will permit me to do so.” +</p> + +<p> +“For what do you intend to apologise, Mr. Morris? For breaking the chair, or +refusing to mend it when I asked you?” +</p> + +<p> +“For both. I was really in a good deal of trouble just the moment before I ran +against your chair, Miss Earle, and I hope you will excuse me on the ground of +temporary insanity. Why, you know, they even let off murderers on that plea, so +I hope to be forgiven for being careless in the first place, and boorish in the +second.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are freely forgiven, Mr. Morris. In fact, now that I think more calmly +about the incident, it was really a very trivial affair to get angry over, and +I must confess I was angry.” +</p> + +<p> +“You were perfectly justified.” +</p> + +<p> +“In getting angry, perhaps; but in showing my anger, no—as some one says +in a play. Meanwhile, we’ll forget all about it,” and with that the young lady +rose, bidding her new acquaintance good night. +</p> + +<p> +George Morris found he had more appetite for dinner than he expected to have. +</p> + +<h3> Second Day</h3> + +<p> +Mr. George Morris did not sleep well his first night on the <i>City of +Buffalo</i>. He dreamt that he was being chased around the deck by a couple of +young ladies, one a very pronounced blonde, and the other an equally pronounced +brunette, and he suffered a great deal because of the uncertainty as to which +of the two pursuers he desired the most to avoid. It seemed to him that at last +he was cornered, and the fiendish young ladies began literally, as the slang +phrase is, to mop the deck with him. He felt himself being slowly pushed back +and forward across the deck, and he wondered how long he would last if this +treatment were kept up. By and by he found himself lying still in his bunk, and +the swish, swish above him of the men scrubbing the deck in the early morning +showed him his dream had merged into reality. He remembered then that it was +the custom of the smoking-room steward to bring a large silver pot of fragrant +coffee early every morning and place it on the table of the smoking-room. +Morris also recollected that on former voyages that early morning coffee had +always tasted particularly good. It was grateful and comforting, as the +advertisement has it. Shortly after, Mr. Morris was on the wet deck, which the +men were still scrubbing with the slow, measured swish, swish of the brush he +had heard earlier in the morning. No rain was falling, but everything had a +rainy look. At first he could see only a short distance from the ship. The +clouds appeared to have come down on the water, where they hung, lowering. +There was no evidence that such a thing as a sun existed. The waves rolled out +of this watery mist with an oily look, and the air was so damp and chilly that +it made Morris shiver as he looked out on the dreary prospect. He thrust his +hands deep into his coat pockets, which seemed to be an indolent habit of his, +and walked along the slippery deck to search for the smoking-room. He was +thinking of his curious and troublesome dream, when around the corner came the +brunette, wrapped in a long cloak that covered her from head to foot. The cloak +had a couple of side pockets set angleways in front, after the manner of the +pockets in ulsters. In these pockets Miss Earle’s hands were placed, and she +walked the deck with a certain independent manner which Mr. Morris remembered +that he disliked. She seemed to be about to pass him without recognition, when +the young man took off his cap and said pleasantly, “Good morning, Miss Earle. +You are a very early riser.” +</p> + +<p> +“The habit of years,” answered that young lady, “is not broken by merely coming +on board ship.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Morris changed step and walked beside her. +</p> + +<p> +“The habit of years?” he said. “Why, you speak as if you were an old woman.” +</p> + +<p> +“I <i>am</i> an old woman,” replied the girl, “in everything but one +particular.” +</p> + +<p> +“And that particular,” said her companion, “is the very important one, I +imagine, of years.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know why that is so very important.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you will think so in after life, I assure you. I speak as a veteran +myself.” +</p> + +<p> +The young lady gave him a quick side glance with her black eyes from under the +hood that almost concealed her face. +</p> + +<p> +“You say you are a veteran,” she answered, “but you don’t think so. It would +offend you very deeply to be called old.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I don’t know about that. I think such a remark is offensive only when +there is truth in it. A young fellow slaps his companion on the shoulder and +calls him ‘old man.’ The grey-haired veteran always addresses his elderly +friend as ‘my boy.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Under which category do you think you come, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I don’t come under either exactly. I am sort of on the middle ground. I +sometimes feel very old. In fact, to confess to you, I never felt older in my +life than I did yesterday. Today I am a great deal younger.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me,” replied the young lady, “I am sorry to hear that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sorry!” echoed her companion; “I don’t see why you should be sorry. It is said +that every one rejoices in the misfortunes of others, but it is rather unusual +to hear them admit it.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is because of my sympathy for others that I am sorry to hear you are +younger today than you were yesterday. If you take to running along the deck +today then the results will be disastrous and I think you owe it to your fellow +passengers to send the steward with his gong ahead of you so as to give people +in steamer chairs warning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Earle,” said the young man, “I thought you had forgiven me for yesterday. +I am sure I apologised very humbly, and am willing to apologise again to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did I forgive you? I had forgotten?” +</p> + +<p> +“But you remembered the fault. I am afraid that is misplaced forgetfulness. The +truth is, I imagine, you are very unforgiving.” +</p> + +<p> +“My friends do not think so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I suppose you rank me among your enemies?” +</p> + +<p> +“You forget that I have known you for a day only.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is true, chronologically speaking. But you must remember a day on +shipboard is very much longer than a day on shore. In fact, I look on you now +as an old acquaintance, and I should be sorry to think you looked on me as an +enemy.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are mistaken. I do not. I look on you now as you do on your own +age—sort of between the two.” +</p> + +<p> +“And which way do you think I shall drift? Towards the enemy line, or towards +the line of friendship?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sure I cannot tell.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Miss Earle, I am going to use my best endeavours to reach the friendship +line, which I shall make unless the current is too strong for me. I hope you +are not so prejudiced against me that the pleasant effort will be fruitless.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I am strictly neutral,” said the young lady. “Besides, it really amounts +to nothing. Steamer friendships are the most evanescent things on earth.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not on earth, surely, Miss Earle. You must mean on sea.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, the earth includes the sea, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you had experience with steamer friendships? I thought, somehow, this was +your first voyage.” +</p> + +<p> +“What made you think so?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I don’t know. I thought it was, that’s all.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope there is nothing in my manner that would induce a stranger to think I +am a verdant traveller.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, not at all. You know, a person somehow classifies a person’s +fellow-passengers. Some appear to have been crossing the ocean all their lives, +whereas, in fact, they are probably on shipboard for the first time. Have you +crossed the ocean before?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, tell me whether you think I ever crossed before?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, of course you have. I should say that you cross probably once a year. +Maybe oftener.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really? For business or pleasure?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, business, entirely. You did not look yesterday as if you ever had any +pleasure in your life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yesterday! Don’t let us talk about yesterday. It’s to-day now, you know. +You seem to be a mind-reader. Perhaps you could tell my occupation?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly. Your occupation is doubtless that of a junior partner in a +prosperous New York house. You go over to Europe every year—perhaps twice +a year, to look after the interests of your business.” +</p> + +<p> +“You think I am a sort of commercial traveller, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, practically, yes. The older members of the firm, I should imagine, are +too comfortably situated, and care too little for the pleasures of foreign +travel, to devote much of their time to it. So what foreign travel there is to +be done falls on the shoulders of the younger partner. Am I correct?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I don’t quite class myself as a commercial traveller, you know, but in +the main you are—in fact, you are remarkably near right. I think you must +be something of a mind-reader, as I said before, Miss Earle, or is it possible +that I carry my business so plainly in my demeanour as all that?” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Earle laughed. It was a very bright, pleasant, cheerful laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Still, I must correct you where you are wrong, for fear you become too +conceited altogether about your powers of observation. I have not crossed the +ocean as often as you seem to think. In the future I shall perhaps do so +frequently. I am the junior partner, as you say, but have not been a partner +long. In fact I am now on my first voyage in connection with the new +partnership. Now, Miss Earle, let me try a guess at your occupation.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are quite at liberty to guess at it.” +</p> + +<p> +“But will you tell me if I guess correctly?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. I have no desire to conceal it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, I should say off-hand that you are a teacher, and are now taking a +vacation in Europe. Am I right?” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me first why you think so?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid to tell you. I do not want to drift towards the line of enmity.” +</p> + +<p> +“You need have no fear. I have every respect for a man who tells the truth when +he has to.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I think a school teacher is very apt to get into a certain dictatorial +habit of speech. School teachers are something like military men. They are +accustomed to implicit obedience without question, and this, I think, affects +their manner with other people.” +</p> + +<p> +“You think I am dictatorial, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I shouldn’t say that you were dictatorial exactly. But there is a +certain confidence—I don’t know just how to express it, but it seems to +me, you know—well, I am going deeper and deeper into trouble by what I am +saying, so really I shall not say any more. I do not know just how to express +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think you express it very nicely. Go on, please.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you are laughing at me now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all, I assure you. You were trying to say that I was very dictatorial.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I was trying to say nothing of the kind. I was merely trying to say that +you have a certain confidence in yourself and a certain belief that everything +you say is perfectly correct, and is not to be questioned. Now, do as you +promised, and tell me how near right I am.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are entirely wrong. I never taught school.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Miss Earle, I confessed to my occupation without citing any mitigating +circumstances. So now, would you think me impertinent if I asked you to be +equally frank?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, not at all! But I may say at once that I wouldn’t answer you.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you will tell me if I guess?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I promise that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I am certainly right in saying that you are crossing the ocean for +pleasure.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, you are entirely wrong. I am crossing for business.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, perhaps you cross very often, too?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; I crossed only once before, and that was coming the other way.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really, this is very mysterious. When are you coming back?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not coming back.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, well,” said Morris, “I give it up. I think I have scored the unusual +triumph of managing to be wrong in everything that I have said. Have I not?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think you have.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you refuse to put me right?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think you are quite fair, Miss Earle.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think I ever claimed to be, Mr. Morris. But I am tired of walking now. +You see, I have been walking the deck for considerably longer than you have. I +think I shall sit down for a while.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let me take you to your chair.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Earle smiled. “It would be very little use,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +The deck steward was not to be seen, and Morris, diving into a dark and +cluttered-up apartment, in which the chairs were piled, speedily picked out his +own, brought it to where the young lady was standing, spread it out in its +proper position, and said— +</p> + +<p> +“Now let me get you a rug or two.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have made a mistake. That is not my chair.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, it is. I looked at the tag. This is your name, is it not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that is my name; but this is not my chair.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I beg that you will use it until the owner calls for it.” +</p> + +<p> +“But who is the owner? Is this your chair?” +</p> + +<p> +“It was mine until after I smashed up yours.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but I cannot accept your chair, Mr. Morris.” +</p> + +<p> +“You surely wouldn’t refuse to do what you desired, in fact, commanded, another +to do. You know you practically ordered me to take your chair. Well, I have +accepted it. It is going to be put right to-day. So, you see, you cannot refuse +mine.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Earle looked at him for a moment. +</p> + +<p> +“This is hardly what I would call a fair exchange,” she said. “My chair was +really a very cheap and flimsy one. This chair is much more expensive. You see, +I know the price of them. I think you are trying to arrange your revenge, Mr. +Morris. I think you want to bring things about so that I shall have to +apologise to you in relation to that chair-breaking incident. However, I see +that this chair is very comfortable, so I will take it. Wait a moment till I +get my rugs.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” cried Morris, “tell me where you left them. I will get them for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you. I left them on the seat at the head of the companion-way. One is +red, the other is more variegated; I cannot describe it, but they are the only +two rugs there, I think.” +</p> + +<p> +A moment afterwards the young man appeared with the rugs on his arm, and +arranged them around the young lady after the manner of deck stewards and +gallant young men who are in the habit of crossing the ocean. +</p> + +<p> +“Would you like to have a cup of coffee?” +</p> + +<p> +“I would, if it can be had.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I will let you into a shipboard secret. Every morning on this vessel the +smoking-room steward brings up a pot of very delicious coffee, which he leaves +on the table of the smoking-room. He also brings a few biscuits—not the +biscuit of American fame, but the biscuit of English manufacture, the cracker, +as we call it—and those who frequent the smoking-room are in the habit +sometimes of rising early, and, after a walk on deck, pouring out a cup of +coffee for themselves.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I do not expert to be a <i>habitué</i> of the smoking-room,” said +Miss Earle. +</p> + +<p> +“Nevertheless, you have a friend who will be, and so in that way, you see, you +will enjoy the advantages of belonging to the smoking club.” +</p> + +<p> +A few moments afterwards, Morris appeared with a camp-stool under his arm, and +two cups of coffee in his hands. Miss Earle noticed the smile suddenly fade +from his face, and a look of annoyance, even of terror, succeed it. His hands +trembled, so that the coffee spilled from the cup into the saucer. +</p> + +<p> +“Excuse my awkwardness,” he said huskily; then, handing her the cup, he added, +“I shall have to go now. I will see you at breakfast-time. Good morning.” With +the other cup still in his hand, he made his way to the stair. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Earle looked around and saw, coming up the deck, a very handsome young +lady with blonde hair. +</p> + +<h3>Third Day</h3> + +<p> +On the morning of the third day, Mr. George Morris woke up after a sound and +dreamless sleep. He woke up feeling very dissatisfied with himself, indeed. He +said he was a fool, which was probably true enough, but even the calling +himself so did not seem to make matters any better. He reviewed in his mind the +events of the day before. He remembered his very pleasant walk and talk with +Miss Earle. He knew the talk had been rather purposeless, being merely that +sort of preliminary conversation which two people who do not yet know each +other indulge in, as a forerunner to future friendship. Then, he thought of his +awkward leave-taking of Miss Earle when he presented her with the cup of +coffee, and for the first time he remembered with a pang that he had under his +arm a camp-stool. It must have been evident to Miss Earle that he had intended +to sit down and have a cup of coffee with her, and continue the acquaintance +begun so auspiciously that morning. He wondered if she had noticed that his +precipitate retreat had taken place the moment there appeared on the deck a +very handsome and stylishly dressed young lady. He began to fear that Miss +Earle must have thought him suddenly taken with insanity, or, worse still, +sea-sickness. The more Morris thought about the matter the more dissatisfied he +was with himself and his actions. At breakfast—he had arrived very late, +almost as Miss Earle was leaving—he felt he had preserved a glum, +reticent demeanour, and that he had the general manner of a fugitive anxious to +escape justice. He wondered what Miss Earle must have thought of him after his +eager conversation of the morning. The rest of the day he had spent gloomily in +the smoking-room, and had not seen the young lady again. The more he thought of +the day the worse he felt about it. However, he was philosopher enough to know +that all the thinking he could do would not change a single item in the sum of +the day’s doing. So he slipped back the curtain on its brass rod and looked out +into his state-room. The valise which he had left carelessly on the floor the +night before was now making an excursion backwards and forwards from the bunk +to the sofa, and the books that had been piled up on the sofa were scattered +all over the room. It was evident that dressing was going to be an acrobatic +performance. +</p> + +<p> +The deck, when he reached it, was wet, but not with the moisture of the +scrubbing. The outlook was clear enough, but a strong head-wind was blowing +that whistled through the cordage of the vessel, and caused the black smoke of +the funnels to float back like huge sombre streamers. The prow of the big ship +rose now into the sky and then sank down into the bosom of the sea, and every +time it descended a white cloud of spray drenched everything forward and sent a +drizzly salt rain along the whole length of the steamer. +</p> + +<p> +“There will be no ladies on deck this morning,” said Morris to himself, as he +held his cap on with both hands and looked around at the threatening sky. At +this moment one wave struck the steamer with more than usual force and raised +its crest amidship over the decks. Morris had just time to escape into the +companion-way when it fell with a crash on the deck, flooding the promenade, +and then rushing out through the scuppers into the sea. +</p> + +<p> +“By George!” said Morris. “I guess there won’t be many at breakfast either, if +this sort of thing keeps up. I think the other side of the ship is the best.” +</p> + +<p> +Coming out on the other side of the deck, he was astonished to see, sitting in +her steamer chair, snugly wrapped up in her rugs, Miss Katherine Earle, +balancing a cup of steaming coffee in her hand. The steamer chair had been +tightly tied to the brass stanchion, or hand-rail, that ran along the side of +the housed-in portion of the companion-way, and although the steamer swayed to +and fro, as well as up and down, the chair was immovable. An awning had been +put up over the place where the chair was fastened, and every now and then on +that dripping piece of canvas the salt rain fell, the result of the waves that +dashed in on the other side of the steamer. +</p> + +<p> +“Good morning, Mr. Morris!” said the young lady, brightly. “I am very glad you +have come. I will let you into a shipboard secret. The steward of the +smoking-room brings up every morning a pot of very fragrant coffee. Now, if you +will speak to him, I am sure he will be very glad to give you a cup.” +</p> + +<p> +“You do like to make fun of me, don’t you?” answered the young man. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, dear no,” said Miss Earle, “I shouldn’t think of making fun of anything so +serious. Is it making fun of a person who looks half frozen to offer him a cup +of warm coffee? I think there is more philanthropy than fun about that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I don’t know but you are right. At any rate, I prefer to take it as +philanthropy rather than fun. I shall go and get a cup of coffee for myself, if +you will permit me to place a chair beside yours?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I beg you not to go for the coffee yourself. You certainly will never +reach here with it. You see the remains of that cup down by the side of the +vessel. The steward himself slipped and fell with that piece of crockery in his +hands. I am sure he hurt himself, although he said he didn’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you give him an extra fee on that account?” asked Morris, cynically. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I did. I am like the Government in that respect. I take care of +those who are injured in my service.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps, that’s why he went down. They are a sly set, those stewards. He knew +that a man would simply laugh at him, or perhaps utter some maledictions if he +were not feeling in very good humour. In all my ocean voyages I have never had +the good fortune to see a steward fall. He knew, also, the rascal, that a lady +would sympathise with him, and that he wouldn’t lose anything by it, except the +cup, which is not his loss.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, it is,” replied the young lady, “he tells me they charge all breakages +against him.” +</p> + +<p> +“He didn’t tell you what method they had of keeping track of the breakages, did +he? Suppose he told the chief steward that you broke the cup, which is likely +he did. What then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you are too cynical this morning, and it would serve you just right if you +go and get some coffee for yourself, and meet with the same disaster that +overtook the unfortunate steward. Only you are forewarned that you shall have +neither sympathy nor fee.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, in that case,” said the young man, “I shall not take the risk. I shall +sacrifice the steward rather. Oh, here he is. I say, steward, will you bring me +a cup of coffee, please?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir. Any biscuit, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no biscuit. Just a cup of coffee and a couple of lumps of sugar, please; +and if you can first get me a chair, and strap it to this rod in the manner you +do so well, I shall be very much obliged.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir. I shall call the deck steward, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, notice that. You see the rascals never interfere with each other. The +deck steward wants a fee, and the smoking-room steward wants a fee, and each +one attends strictly to his own business, and doesn’t interfere with the +possible fees of anybody else.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Miss Earle, “is not that the correct way? If things are to be well +done, that is how they should be done. Now, just notice how much more +artistically the deck steward arranged these rugs than you did yesterday +morning. I think it is worth a good fee to be wrapped up so comfortably as +that.” +</p> + +<p> +“I guess I’ll take lessons from the deck steward then, and even if I do not get +a fee, I may perhaps get some gratitude at least.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gratitude? Why, you should think it a privilege.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Miss Earle, to tell the truth, I do. It is a privilege that—I hope +you will not think I am trying to flatter you when I say—any man might be +proud of.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, dear,” replied the young lady, laughing, “I did not mean it in that way at +all. I meant that it was a privilege to be allowed to practise on those +particular rugs. Now, a man should remember that he undertakes a very great +responsibility when he volunteers to place the rugs around a lady on a steamer +chair. He may make her look very neat and even pretty by a nice disposal of the +rugs, or he may make her look like a horrible bundle.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, I think I was not such a failure after all yesterday morning, for +you certainly looked very neat and pretty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, if I did, Mr. Morris, do not flatter yourself it was at all on account +of your disposal of the rugs, for the moment you had left a very handsome young +lady came along, and, looking at me, said, with such a pleasant smile, ‘Why, +what a pretty rug you have there; but how the steward <i>has</i> bungled it +about you! Let me fix it,’ and with that she gave it a touch here and a smooth +down there, and the result was really so nice that I hated to go down to +breakfast. It is a pity you went away so quickly yesterday morning. You might +have had an opportunity of becoming acquainted with the lady, who is, I think, +the prettiest girl on board this ship.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you?” said Mr. Morris, shortly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I do. Have you noticed her? She sits over there at the long table near +the centre. You must have seen her; she is so very, very pretty, that you +cannot help noticing her.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not looking after pretty women this voyage,” said Morris, savagely. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, are you not? Well, I must thank you for that. That is evidently a very +sincere compliment. No, I can’t call it a compliment, but a sincere remark, I +think the first sincere one you have made to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, what do you mean?” said Morris, looking at her in a bewildered sort of +way. +</p> + +<p> +“You have been looking after me this morning, have you not, and yesterday +morning? And taking ever so much pains to be helpful and entertaining, and now, +all at once you say—Well, you know what you said just now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes. Well, you see—” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you can’t get out of it, Mr. Morris. It was said, and with evident +sincerity.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you really think you are pretty?” said Mr. Morris, looking at his +companion, who flushed under the remark. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, now,” she said, “you imagine you are carrying the war into the enemy’s +country. But I don’t at all appreciate a remark like that. I don’t know but I +dislike it even more than I do your compliments, which is saying a good deal.” +</p> + +<p> +“I assure you,” said Morris, stiffly, “that I have not intended to pay any +compliments. I am not a man who pays compliments.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not even left-handed ones?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not even any kind, that I know of. I try as a general thing to speak the +truth.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, and shame your hearers?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I don’t care who I shame as long as I succeed in speaking the truth.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, then; tell me the truth. Have you noticed this handsome young lady +I speak of?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I have seen her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you think she is very pretty?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I think she is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you think she is the prettiest woman on the ship?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I think she is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you afraid of pretty women?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I don’t think I am.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, tell me why, the moment she appeared on the deck yesterday morning, you +were so much agitated that you spilled most of my coffee in the saucer?” +</p> + +<p> +“Did I appear agitated?” asked Morris, with some hesitation. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, I consider that sort of thing worse than a direct prevarication.” +</p> + +<p> +“What sort of thing?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, a disingenuous answer. You <i>know</i> you appeared agitated. You know +you <i>were</i> agitated. You know you had a camp-stool, and that you intended +to sit down here and drink your coffee. All at once you changed your mind, and +that change was coincident with the appearance on deck of the handsome young +lady I speak of. I merely ask why?” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, look here, Miss Earle, even the worst malefactor is not expected to +incriminate himself. I can refuse to answer, can I not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly you may. You may refuse to answer anything, if you like. It was only +because you were boasting about speaking the truth that I thought I should test +your truth-telling qualities. I have been expecting every moment that you would +say to me I was very impertinent, and that it was no business of mine, which +would have been quite true. There, you see, you had a beautiful chance of +speaking the truth which you let slip entirely unnoticed. But there is the +breakfast gong. Now, I must confess to being very hungry indeed. I think I +shall go down into the saloon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Please take my arm, Miss Earle,” said the young man. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, not at all,” replied that young lady; “I want something infinitely more +stable. I shall work my way along this brass rod until I can make a bolt for +the door. If you want to make yourself real useful, go and stand on the +stairway, or the companion-way I think you call it, and if I come through the +door with too great force you’ll prevent me from going down the stairs.” +</p> + +<p> +“‘Who ran to help me when I fell,’” quoted Mr. Morris, as he walked along ahead +of her, having some difficulty in maintaining his equilibrium. +</p> + +<p> +“I wouldn’t mind the falling,” replied the young lady, “if you only would some +pretty story tell; but you are very prosaic, Mr. Morris. Do you ever read +anything at all?” +</p> + +<p> +“I never read when I have somebody more interesting than a book to talk to.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, thank you. Now, if you will get into position on the stairway, I shall +make my attempts at getting to the door.” +</p> + +<p> +“I feel like a base-ball catcher,” said Morris, taking up a position somewhat +similar to that of the useful man behind the bat. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Earle, however, waited until the ship was on an even keel, then walked to +the top of the companion-way, and, deftly catching up the train of her dress +with as much composure as if she were in a ballroom, stepped lightly down the +stairway. Looking smilingly over her shoulder at the astonished baseball +catcher, she said— +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you would not stand in that ridiculous attitude, but come and accompany +me to the breakfast table. As I told you, I am very hungry.” +</p> + +<p> +The steamer gave a lurch that nearly precipitated Morris down the stairway, and +the next moment he was by her side. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you fond of base-ball?” she said to him. +</p> + +<p> +“You should see me in the park when our side makes a home run. Do you like the +game?” +</p> + +<p> +“I never saw a game in my life.” +</p> + +<p> +“What! you an American girl, and never saw a game of base-ball? Why, I am +astonished.” +</p> + +<p> +“I did not say that I was an American girl.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that’s a fact. I took you for one, however.” +</p> + +<p> +They were both of them so intent on their conversation in walking up the narrow +way between the long table and the short ones, that neither of them noticed the +handsome blonde young lady standing beside her chair looking at them. It was +only when that young lady said, “Why, Mr. Morris, is this you?” and when that +gentleman jumped as if a cannon had been fired beside him, that either of them +noticed their fair fellow-traveller. +</p> + +<p> +“Y—es,” stammered Morris, “it is!” +</p> + +<p> +The young lady smiled sweetly and held out her hand, which Morris took in an +awkward way. +</p> + +<p> +“I was just going to ask you,” she said, “when you came aboard. How ridiculous +that would have been. Of course, you have been here all the time. Isn’t it +curious that we have not met each other?—we of all persons in the world.” +</p> + +<p> +Morris, who had somewhat recovered his breath, looked steadily at her as she +said this, and her eyes, after encountering his gaze for a moment, sank to the +floor. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Earle, who had waited for a moment expecting that Morris would introduce +her, but seeing that he had for the time being apparently forgotten everything +on earth, quietly left them, and took her place at the breakfast table. The +blonde young lady looked up again at Mr. Morris, and said— +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid I am keeping you from breakfast.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that doesn’t matter.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid, then,” she continued sweetly, “that I am keeping you from your +very interesting table companion.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that <i>does</i> matter,” said Morris, looking at her. “I wish you good +morning, madam.” And with that he left her and took his place at the head of +the small table. +</p> + +<p> +There was a vindictive look in the blonde young lady’s pretty eyes as she sank +into her own seat at the breakfast table. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Earle had noticed the depressing effect which even the sight of the blonde +lady exercised on Morris the day before, and she looked forward, therefore, to +rather an uncompanionable breakfast. She was surprised, however, to see that +Morris had an air of jaunty joviality, which she could not help thinking was +rather forced. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” he said, as he sat down on the sofa at the head of the table, “I think +it’s about time for us to begin our chutney fight.” +</p> + +<p> +“Our what?” asked the young lady, looking up at him with open eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it possible,” he said, “that you have crossed the ocean and never engaged +in the chutney fight? I always have it on this line.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sorry to appear so ignorant,” said Miss Earle, “but I have to confess I +do not know what chutney is.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am glad of that,” returned the young man. “It delights me to find in your +nature certain desert spots—certain irreclaimable lands, I might +say—of ignorance.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not see why a person should rejoice in the misfortunes of another +person,” replied the young lady. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, don’t you? Why, it is the most natural thing in the world. There is +nothing that we so thoroughly dislike as a person, either lady or gentleman, +who is perfect. I suspect you rather have the advantage of me in the reading of +books, but I certainly have the advantage of you on chutney, and I intend to +make the most of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sure I shall be very glad to be enlightened, and to confess my ignorance +whenever it is necessary, and that, I fear, will be rather often. So, if our +acquaintance continues until the end of the voyage, you will be in a state of +perpetual delight.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that’s encouraging. You will be pleased to learn that chutney is a +sauce, an Indian sauce, and on this line somehow or other they never have more +than one or two bottles. I do not know whether it is very expensive. I presume +it is. Perhaps it is because there is very little demand for it, a great number +of people not knowing what chutney is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said the young lady, “I am glad to find that I am in the majority, +at least, even in the matter of ignorance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, as I was saying, chutney is rather a seductive sauce. You may not like +it at first, but it grows on you. You acquire, as it were, the chutney habit. +An old Indian traveller, whom I had the pleasure of crossing with once, and who +sat at the same table with me, demanded chutney. He initiated me into the +mysteries of chutney, and he had a chutney fight all the way across.” +</p> + +<p> +“I still have to confess that I do not see what there is to fight about in the +matter of chutney.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you? Well, you shall soon have a practical illustration of the terrors +of a chutney fight. Steward,” called Morris, “just bring me a bottle of +chutney, will you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Chutney, air?” asked the steward, as if he had never heard the word before. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, chutney. Chutney sauce.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid, sir,” said the steward, “that we haven’t any chutney sauce.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, you have. I see a bottle there on the captain’s table. I think there +is a second bottle at the smaller table. Just two doors up the street. Have the +kindness to bring it to me.” +</p> + +<p> +The steward left for the chutney, and Morris looking after him, saw that there +was some discussion between him and the steward of the other table. Finally, +Morris’s steward came back and said, “I am very sorry, sir, but they are using +the chutney at that table.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now look here, steward,” said Morris, “you know that you are here to take care +of us, and that at the end of the voyage I will take care of you. Don’t make +any mistake about that. You understand me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir, I do,” said the steward. “Thank you, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” replied Morris. “Now you understand that I want chutney, and +chutney I am going to have.” +</p> + +<p> +Steward number one waited until steward number two had disappeared after +another order, and then he deftly reached over, took the chutney sauce, and +placed it before Mr. Morris. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Miss Earle, I hope that you will like this chutney sauce. You see there +is some difficulty in getting it, and that of itself ought to be a strong +recommendation for it.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is a little too hot to suit me,” answered the young lady, trying the Indian +sauce, “still, there is a pleasant flavour about it that I like.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you are all right,” said Morris, jauntily; “you will be a victim of the +chutney habit before two days. People who dislike it at first are its warmest +advocates afterwards. I use the word warmest without any allusion to the sauce +itself, you know. I shall now try some myself.” +</p> + +<p> +As he looked round the table for the large bottle, he saw that it had been +whisked away by steward number two, and now stood on the other table. Miss +Earle laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I shall have it in a moment,” said the young man. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think it is worth while?” +</p> + +<p> +“Worth while? Why, that is the excitement of a chutney fight. It is not that we +care for chutney at all, but that we simply are bound to have it. If there were +a bottle of chutney at every table, the delights of chutney would be gone. +Steward,” said Morris, as that functionary appeared, “the chutney, please.” +</p> + +<p> +The steward cast a rapid glance at the other table, and waited until steward +number two had disappeared. Then Morris had his chutney. Steward number two, +seeing his precious bottle gone, tried a second time to stealthily obtain +possession of it, but Morris said to him in a pleasant voice, “That’s all +right, steward, we are through with the chutney. Take it along, please. So +that,” continued Mr. Morris, as Miss Earle rose from the table, “that is your +first experience of a chutney fight—one of the delights of ocean travel.” +</p> + +<h3>Fourth Day</h3> + +<p> +Mr. George Morris began to find his “early coffees,” as he called them, very +delightful. It was charming to meet a pretty and entertaining young lady every +morning early when they had the deck practically to themselves. The fourth day +was bright and clear, and the sea was reasonably calm. For the first time he +was up earlier than Miss Earle, and he paced the deck with great impatience, +waiting for her appearance. He wondered who and what she was. He had a dim, +hazy idea that some time before in his life, he had met her, and probably had +been acquainted with her. What an embarrassing thing it would be, he thought, +if he had really known her years before, and had forgotten her, while she knew +who he was, and had remembered him. He thought of how accurately she had +guessed his position in life—if it was a guess. He remembered that often, +when he looked at her, he felt certain he had known her and spoken to her +before. He placed the two steamer chairs in position, so that Miss Earle’s +chair would be ready for her when she did appear, and then, as he walked up and +down the deck waiting for her, he began to wonder at himself. If any one had +told him when he left New York that, within three or four days he could feel +such an interest in a person who previous to that time had been an utter +stranger to him, he would have laughed scornfully and bitterly at the idea. As +it was, when he thought of all the peculiar circumstances of the case, he +laughed aloud, but neither scornfully nor bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +“You must be having very pleasant thoughts, Mr. Morris,” said Miss Earle, as +she appeared with a bright shawl thrown over her shoulders, instead of the long +cloak that had encased her before, and with a Tam o’ Shanter set jauntily on +her black, curly hair. +</p> + +<p> +“You are right,” said Morris, taking off his cap, “I was thinking of you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, indeed,” replied the young lady, “that’s why you laughed, was it? I may +say that I do not relish being laughed at in my absence, or in my presence +either, for that matter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I assure you I wasn’t laughing at you. I laughed with pleasure to see you +come on deck. I have been waiting for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Mr. Morris, that from a man who boasts of his truthfulness is a little +too much. You did not see me at all until I spoke; and if, as you say, you were +thinking of me, you will have to explain that laugh.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will explain it before the voyage is over, Miss Earle. I can’t explain it +just now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, then you admit you were untruthful when you said you laughed because you +saw me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I may as well admit it. You seem to know things intuitively. I am not nearly +as truthful a person as I thought I was until I met you. You seem the very +embodiment of truth. If I had not met you, I imagine I should have gone through +life thinking myself one of the most truthful men in New York.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps that would not be saying very much for yourself,” replied the young +lady, as she took her place in the steamer chair. +</p> + +<p> +“I am sorry you have such a poor opinion of us New Yorkers,” said the young +man. “Why are you so late this morning?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not late; it is you who are early. This is my usual time. I have been a +very punctual person all my life.” +</p> + +<p> +“There you go again, speaking as if you were ever so old.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I don’t believe it. I wish, however, that you had confidence enough in +me to tell me something about yourself. Do you know, I was thinking this +morning that I had met you before somewhere? I feel almost certain I have.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that is quite possible, you know. You are a New Yorker, and I have lived +in New York for a great number of years, much as you seem to dislike that +phrase.” +</p> + +<p> +“New York! Oh, that is like saying you have lived in America and I have lived +in America. We might live for hundreds of years in New York and never meet one +another!” +</p> + +<p> +“That is very true, except that the time is a little long.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then won’t you tell me something about yourself?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I will not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why? Well, if you will tell me why you have the right to ask such a question, +I shall answer why.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, if you talk of rights, I suppose I haven’t the right. But I am willing to +tell you anything about myself. Now, a fair exchange, you know—” +</p> + +<p> +“But I don’t wish to know anything about you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, thank you.” +</p> + +<p> +George Morris’s face clouded, and he sat silent for a few moments. +</p> + +<p> +“I presume,” he said again, “that you think me very impertinent?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, frankly, I do.” +</p> + +<p> +Morris gazed out at the sea, and Miss Earle opened the book which she had +brought with her, and began to read. After a while her companion said— +</p> + +<p> +“I think that you are a little too harsh with me, Miss Earle.” +</p> + +<p> +The young lady placed her finger between the leaves of the book and closed it, +looking up at him with a frank, calm expression in her dark eyes, but said +nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“You see, it’s like this. I said to you a little while since that I seem to +have known you before. Now, I’ll tell you what I was thinking of when you met +me this morning. I was thinking what a curious thing it would be if I had been +acquainted with you some time during my past life, and had forgotten you, while +you had remembered me.” +</p> + +<p> +“That was very flattering to me,” said the young lady; “I don’t wonder you +laughed.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is why I did not wish to tell you what I had been thinking of—just +for fear that you would put a wrong construction on it—as you have done. +But now you can’t say anything much harsher to me than you have said, and so I +tell you frankly just what I thought, and why I asked you those questions which +you seem to think are so impertinent. Besides this, you know, a sea +acquaintance is different from any other acquaintance. As I said, the first +time I spoke to you—or the second—there is no one here to introduce +us. On land, when a person is introduced to another person, he does not say, +‘Miss Earle, this is Mr. Morris, who is a younger partner in the house of +So-and-so.’ He merely says, ‘Miss Earle, Mr. Morris,’ and there it is. If you +want to find anything out about him you can ask your introducer or ask your +friends, and you can find out. Now, on shipboard it is entirely different. +Suppose, for instance, that I did not tell you who I am, and—if you will +pardon me for suggesting such an absurd supposition—-imagine that you +wanted to find out, how could you do it?” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Earle looked at him for a moment, and then she answered— +</p> + +<p> +“I would ask that blonde young lady.” +</p> + +<p> +This reply was so utterly unexpected by Morris that he looked at her with wide +eyes, the picture of a man dumbfounded. At that moment the smoking-room steward +came up to them and said— +</p> + +<p> +“Will you have your coffee now, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“Coffee!” cried Morris, as if he had never heard the word before. “Coffee!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” answered Miss Earle, sweetly, “we will have the coffee now, if you +please. You will have a cup with me, will you not, Mr. Morris?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I will, if it is not too much trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it is no trouble to me,” said, the young lady; “some trouble to the +steward, but I believe even for him that it is not a trouble that cannot be +recompensed.” +</p> + +<p> +Morris sipped his coffee in silence. Every now and then Miss Earle stole a +quiet look at him, and apparently was waiting for him to again resume the +conversation. This he did not seem in a hurry to do. At last she said— +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Morris, suppose we were on shipboard and that we had become acquainted +without the friendly intervention of an introducer, and suppose, if such a +supposition is at all within the bounds of probability, that you wanted to find +out something about me, how would you go about it?” +</p> + +<p> +“How would I go about it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. How?” +</p> + +<p> +“I would go about it in what would be the worst possible way. I would frankly +ask you, and you would as frankly snub me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose, then, while declining to tell you anything about myself I were to +refer you to somebody who would give you the information you desire, would you +take the opportunity of learning?” +</p> + +<p> +“I would prefer to hear from yourself anything I desired to learn.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, that is very nicely said, Mr. Morris, and you make me feel almost sorry, +for having spoken to you as I did. Still, if you really want to find out +something about me, I shall tell you some one whom you can ask, and who will +doubtless answer you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who is that? The captain?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. It is the same person to whom I should go if I wished to have information +of you—the blonde young lady.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean to say you know her?” asked the astonished young man. +</p> + +<p> +“I said nothing of the sort.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, <i>do</i> you know her?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I do not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know her name?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I do not even know her name.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you ever met her before you came on board this ship?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I have.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, if that isn’t the most astonishing thing I ever heard!” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t see why it is. You say you thought you had met me before. As you are a +man no doubt you have forgotten it. I say I think I have met that young lady +before. As she is a woman I don’t think she will have forgotten. If you have +any interest in the matter at all you might inquire.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall do nothing of the sort.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, of course, I said I thought you hadn’t very much interest. I only +supposed the case.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not that I have not the interest, but it is that I prefer to go to the +person who can best answer my question if she chooses to do so. If she doesn’t +choose to answer me, then I don’t choose to learn.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, I like that ever so much,” said the young lady; “if you will get me +another cup of coffee I shall be exceedingly obliged to you. My excuse is that +these cups are very small, and the coffee is very good.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sure you don’t need any excuse,” replied Morris, springing to his feet, +“and I am only too happy to be your steward without the hope of the fee at the +end of the voyage.” +</p> + +<p> +When he returned she said, “I think we had better stop the personal +conversation into which we have drifted. It isn’t at all pleasant to me, and I +don’t think it is very agreeable to you. Now, I intended this morning to give +you a lesson on American literature. I feel that you need enlightening on the +subject, and that you have neglected your opportunities, as most New York men +do, and so I thought you would be glad of a lesson or two.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall be very glad of it indeed. I don’t know what our opportunities are, +but if most New York men are like me I imagine a great many of them are in the +same fix. We have very little time for the study of the literature of any +country.” +</p> + +<p> +“And perhaps very little inclination.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you know, Miss Earle, there is some excuse for a busy man. Don’t you +think there is?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think there is very much. Who in America is a busier man than Mr. +Gladstone? Yet he reads nearly everything, and is familiar with almost any +subject you can mention.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Gladstone! Well, he is a man of a million. But you take the average New +York man. He is worried in business, and kept on the keen jump all the year +round. Then he has a vacation, say for a couple of weeks or a month, in summer, +and he goes off into the woods with his fishing kit, or canoeing outfit, or his +amateur photographic set, or whatever the tools of his particular fad may be. +He goes to a book-store and buys up a lot of paper-covered novels. There is no +use of buying an expensive book, because he would spoil it before he gets back, +and he would be sure to leave it in some shanty. So he takes those +paper-covered abominations, and you will find torn copies of them scattered all +through the Adirondacks, and down the St. Lawrence, and everywhere else that +tourists congregate. I always tell the book-store man to give me the worst lot +of trash he has got, and he does. Now, what is that book you have with you?” +</p> + +<p> +“This is one of Mr. Howells’ novels. You will admit, at least, that you have +heard of Howells, I suppose?” +</p> + +<p> +“Heard of him? Oh yes; I have read some of Howells’ books. I am not as ignorant +as you seem to think.” +</p> + +<p> +“What have you read of Mr. Howells’?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I read <i>The American,</i> I don’t remember the others.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>The American!</i> That is by Henry James.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it? Well, I knew that it was by either Howells or James, I forgot which. +They didn’t write a book together, did they?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, not that I know of. Why, the depth of your ignorance about American +literature is something appalling. You talk of it so jauntily that you +evidently have no idea of it yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you would take me in hand, Miss Earle. Isn’t there any sort of +condensed version that a person could get hold of? Couldn’t you give me a +synopsis of what is written, so that I might post myself up in literature +without going to the trouble of reading the books?” +</p> + +<p> +“The trouble! Oh, if that is the way you speak, then your case is hopeless! I +suspected it for some time, but now I am certain. The trouble! The +<i>delight</i> of reading a new novel by Howells is something that you +evidently have not the remotest idea of. Why, I don’t know what I would give to +have with me a novel of Howells’ that I had not read.” +</p> + +<p> +“Goodness gracious! You don’t mean to say that you have read <i>everything</i> +he has written?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly I have, and I am reading one now that is coming out in the magazine; +and I don’t know what I shall do if I am not able to get the magazine when I go +to Europe.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you can get them over there right enough, and cheaper than you can in +America. They publish them over there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do they? Well, I am glad to hear it.” +</p> + +<p> +“You see, there is something about American literature that you are not +acquainted with, the publication of our magazines in England, for instance. Ah, +there is the breakfast gong. Well, we will have to postpone our lesson in +literature until afterwards. Will you be up here after breakfast?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I think so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, we will leave our chairs and rugs just where they are. I will take your +book down for you. Books have the habit of disappearing if they are left around +on shipboard.” +</p> + +<p> +After breakfast Mr. Morris went to the smoking-room to enjoy his cigar, and +there was challenged to a game of cards. He played one game; but his mind was +evidently not on his amusement, so he excused himself from any further +dissipation in that line, and walked out on deck. The promise of the morning +had been more than fulfilled in the day, and the warm sunlight and mild air had +brought on deck many who had not been visible up to that time. There was a long +row of muffled up figures on steamer chairs, and the deck steward was kept busy +hurrying here and there attending to the wants of the passengers. Nearly every +one had a book, but many of the books were turned face downwards on the steamer +rugs, while the owners either talked to those next them, or gazed idly out at +the blue ocean. In the long and narrow open space between the chairs and the +bulwarks of the ship, the energetic pedestrians were walking up and down. +</p> + +<p> +At this stage of the voyage most of the passengers had found congenial +companions, and nearly everybody was acquainted with everybody else. Morris +walked along in front of the reclining passengers, scanning each one eagerly to +find the person he wanted, but she was not there. Remembering then that the +chairs had been on the other side of the ship, he continued his walk around the +wheel-house, and there he saw Miss Earle, and sitting beside her was the blonde +young lady talking vivaciously, while Miss Earle listened. +</p> + +<p> +Morris hesitated for a moment, but before he could turn back the young lady +sprang to her feet, and said—“Oh, Mr. Morris, am I sitting in your +chair?” +</p> + +<p> +“What makes you think it is my chair?” asked that gentleman, not in the most +genial tone of voice. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought so,” replied the young lady, with a laugh, “because it was near Miss +Earle.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Earle did not look at all pleased at this remark. She coloured slightly, +and, taking the open book from her lap, began to read. +</p> + +<p> +“You are quite welcome to the chair,” replied Morris, and the moment the words +were spoken he felt that somehow it was one of those things he would rather +have left unsaid, as far as Miss Earle was concerned. “I beg that you will not +disturb yourself,” he continued; and, raising his hat to the lady, he continued +his walk. +</p> + +<p> +A chance acquaintance joined him, changing his step to suit that of Morris, and +talked with him on the prospects of the next year being a good business season +in the United States. Morris answered rather absent-mindedly, and it was nearly +lunch-time before he had an opportunity of going back to see whether or not +Miss Earle’s companion had left. When he reached the spot where they had been +sitting he found things the very reverse of what he had hoped. Miss Earle’s +chair was vacant, but her companion sat there, idly turning over the leaves of +the book that Miss Earle had been reading. “Won’t you sit down, Mr. Morris?” +said the young woman, looking up at him with a winning smile. “Miss Earle has +gone to dress for lunch. I should do the same thing, but, alas! I am too +indolent.” +</p> + +<p> +Morris hesitated for a moment, and then sat down beside her. +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you act so perfectly horrid to me?” asked the young lady, closing the +book sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“I was not aware that I acted horridly to anybody,” answered Morris. +</p> + +<p> +“You know well enough that you have been trying your very best to avoid me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think you are mistaken. I seldom try to avoid any one, and I see no reason +why I should try to avoid you. Do you know of any reason?” +</p> + +<p> +The young lady blushed and looked down at her book, whose leaves she again +began to turn. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought,” she said at last, “that you might have some feeling against me, +and I have no doubt you judge me very harshly. You never <i>did</i> make any +allowances.” +</p> + +<p> +Morris gave a little laugh that was half a sneer. +</p> + +<p> +“Allowances?” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, allowances. You know you always were harsh with me, George, always.” And +as she looked up at him her blue eyes were filled with tears, and there was a +quiver at the corner of her mouth. “What a splendid actress you would make, +Blanche,” said the young man, calling her by her name for the first time. +</p> + +<p> +She gave him a quick look as he did so. “Actress!” she cried. “No one was ever +less an actress than I am, and you know that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, well, what’s the use of us talking? It’s all right. We made a little +mistake, that’s all, and people often make mistakes in this life, don’t they, +Blanche?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” sobbed that young lady, putting her dainty silk handkerchief to her +eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, for goodness sake,” said the young man, “don’t do that. People will think +I am scolding you, and certainly there is no one in this world who has less +right to scold you than I have.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought,” murmured the young lady, from behind her handkerchief, “that we +might at least be friends. I didn’t think you could ever act so harshly towards +me as you have done for the past few days.” +</p> + +<p> +“Act?” cried the young man. “Bless me, I haven’t acted one way or the other. I +simply haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you till the other evening, or +morning, which ever it was. I have said nothing, and done nothing. I don’t see +how I could be accused of acting, or of anything else.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think,” sobbed the young lady, “that you might at least have spoken kindly +to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good gracious!” cried Morris, starting up, “here comes Miss Earle. For +heaven’s sake put up that handkerchief.” +</p> + +<p> +But Blanche merely sank her face lower in it, while silent sobs shook her +somewhat slender form. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Earle stood for a moment amazed as she looked at Morris’s flushed face, +and at the bowed head of the young lady beside him; then, without a word, she +turned and walked away. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish to goodness,” said Morris, harshly, “that if you are going to have a +fit of crying you would not have it on deck, and where people can see you.” +</p> + +<p> +The young woman at once straightened up and flashed a look at him in which +there were no traces of her former emotion. +</p> + +<p> +“People!” she said, scornfully. “Much <i>you</i> care about people. It is +because Miss Katherine Earle saw me that you are annoyed. You are afraid that +it will interfere with your flirtation with her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Flirtation?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, flirtation. Surely it can’t be anything more serious?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why should it not be something more serious?” asked Morris, very coldly. The +blue eyes opened wide in apparent astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“Would you <i>marry</i> her?” she said, with telling emphasis upon the word. +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” he answered. “Any man might be proud to marry a lady like Miss +Earle.” +</p> + +<p> +“A lady! Much of a lady she is! Why, she is one of your own shop-girls. You +know it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shop-girls?” cried Morris, in astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, shop-girls. You don’t mean to say that she has concealed that fact from +you, or that you didn’t know it by seeing her in the store?” +</p> + +<p> +“A shop-girl in my store?” he murmured, bewildered. “I knew I had seen her +somewhere.” +</p> + +<p> +Blanche laughed a little irritating laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“What a splendid item it would make for the society papers,” she said. “The +junior partner marries one of his own shop-girls, or, worse still, the junior +partner and one of his shop-girls leave New York on the <i>City of Buffalo</i>, +and are married in England. I hope that the reporters will not get the +particulars of the affair.” Then, rising, she left the amazed young man to his +thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +George Morris saw nothing more of Miss Katherine Earle that day. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder what that vixen has said to her,” he thought, as he turned in for the +night. +</p> + +<h3>Fifth Day</h3> + +<p> +In the early morning of the fifth day out, George Morris paced the deck alone. +</p> + +<p> +“Shop-girl or not,” he had said to himself, “Miss Katherine Earle is much more +of a lady than the other ever was.” But as he paced the deck, and as Miss Earle +did not appear, he began to wonder more and more what had been said to her in +the long talk of yesterday forenoon. Meanwhile Miss Earle sat in her own +state-room thinking over the same subject. Blanche had sweetly asked her for +permission to sit down beside her. +</p> + +<p> +“I know no ladies on board,” she said, “and I think I have met you before.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” answered Miss Earle, “I think we have met before.” +</p> + +<p> +“How good of you to have remembered me,” said Blanche, kindly. +</p> + +<p> +“I think,” replied Miss Earle, “that it is more remarkable that you should +remember me than that I should remember you. Ladies very rarely notice the +shop-girls who wait upon them.” +</p> + +<p> +“You seemed so superior to your station,” said Blanche, “that I could not help +remembering you, and could not help thinking what a pity it was you had to be +there.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not think that there is anything either superior or inferior about the +station. It is quite as honourable, or dishonourable, which ever it may be, as +any other branch of business. I cannot see, for instance, why my station, +selling ribbons at retail, should be any more dishonourable than the station of +the head of the firm, who merely does on a very large scale what I was trying +to do for him on a very limited scale.” +</p> + +<p> +“Still,” said Blanche, with a yawn, “people do not all look upon it in exactly +that light.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hardly any two persons look on any one thing in the same light. I hope you +have enjoyed your voyage so far?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have not enjoyed it very much,” replied the young lady with a sigh. +</p> + +<p> +“I am sorry to hear that. I presume your father has been ill most of the way?” +</p> + +<p> +“My father?” cried the other, looking at her questioner. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I did not see him at the table since the first day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he has had to keep his room almost since we left. He is a very poor +sailor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then that must make your voyage rather unpleasant?” +</p> + +<p> +The blonde young lady made no reply, but, taking up the book which Miss Earle +was reading, said, “You don’t find Mr. Morris much of a reader, I presume? He +used not to be.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know very little about Mr. Morris,” said Miss Earle, freezingly. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you knew him before you came on board, did you not?” questioned the +other, raising her eyebrows. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I did not.” +</p> + +<p> +“You certainly know he is junior partner in the establishment where you work?” +</p> + +<p> +“I know that, yes, but I had never spoken to him before I met him on board this +steamer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that possible? Might I ask you if there is any probability of your becoming +interested in Mr. Morris?” +</p> + +<p> +“Interested! What do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you know well enough what I mean. We girls do not need to be humbugs with +each other, whatever we may be before the men. When a young woman meets a young +man in the early morning, and has coffee with him, and when she reads to him, +and tries to cultivate his literary tastes, whatever they may be, she certainly +shows some interest in the young man, don’t you think so?” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Earle looked for a moment indignantly at her questioner. “I do not +recognise your right,” she said, “to ask me such a question.” +</p> + +<p> +“No? Then let me tell you that I have every right to ask it. I assure you that +I have thought over the matter deeply before I spoke. It seemed to me there was +one chance in a thousand—only one chance in a thousand, +remember—that you were acting honestly, and on that one chance I took the +liberty of speaking to you. The right I have to ask such a question is +this—Mr. George Morris has been engaged to me for several years.” +</p> + +<p> +“Engaged to <i>you</i>?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. If you don’t believe it, ask him.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is the very last question in the world I would ask anybody.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, you will have to take my word for it. I hope you are not very +shocked, Miss Earle, to hear what I have had to tell you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shocked? Oh dear, no. Why should I be? It is really a matter of no interest to +me, I assure you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I am very glad to hear you say so. I did not know but you might have +become more interested in Mr. Morris than you would care to own. I think myself +that he is quite a fascinating young gentleman; but I thought it only just to +you that you should know exactly how matters stood.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sure I am very much obliged to you.” +</p> + +<p> +This much of the conversation Miss Earle had thought over in her own room that +morning. “Did it make a difference to her or not?” that was the question she +was asking herself. The information had certainly affected her opinion of Mr. +Morris, and she smiled to herself rather bitterly as she thought of his +claiming to be so exceedingly truthful. Miss Earle did not, however, go up on +deck until the breakfast gong had rung. +</p> + +<p> +“Good morning,” said Morris, as he took his place at the little table. “I was +like the boy on the burning deck this morning, when all but he had fled. I was +very much disappointed that you did not come up, and have your usual cup of +coffee.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sorry to hear that,” said Miss Earle; “if I had known I was disappointing +anybody I should have been here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Katherine,” he said, “you are a humbug. You knew very well that I would +be disappointed if you did not come.” +</p> + +<p> +The young lady looked up at him, and for a moment she thought of telling him +that her name was Miss Earle, but for some reason she did not do so. +</p> + +<p> +“I want you to promise now,” he continued, “that to-morrow morning you will be +on deck as usual.” +</p> + +<p> +“Has it become a usual thing, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that’s what I am trying to make it,” he answered. “Will you promise?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I promise.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, then, I look on that as settled. Now, about to-day. What are you +going to do with yourself after breakfast?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, the usual thing, I suppose. I shall sit in my steamer chair and read an +interesting book.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what is the interesting book for to-day?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is a little volume by Henry James, entitled <i>The Siege of London.</i>” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, I never knew that London had been besieged. When did that happen?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I haven’t got very far in the book yet, but it seems to have happened +quite recently, within a year or two, I think. It is one of the latest of Mr. +James’s short stories. I have not read it yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, then the siege is not historical?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not historical further than Mr. James is the historian.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Miss Earle, are you good at reading out loud?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I am not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, how decisively you say that. I couldn’t answer like that, because I don’t +know whether I am or not. I have never tried any of it. But if you will allow +me, I will read that book out to you. I should like to have the good points +indicated to me, and also the defects.” +</p> + +<p> +“There are not likely to be many defects,” said the young lady. “Mr. James is a +very correct writer. But I do not care either to read aloud or have a book read +to me. Besides, we disturb the conversation or the reading of any one else who +happens to sit near us. I prefer to enjoy a book by reading it myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, I see you are resolved cruelly to shut me out of all participation in your +enjoyment.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, not at all. I shall be very happy to discuss the book with you afterwards. +You should read it for yourself. Then, when you have done so, we might have a +talk on its merits or demerits, if you think, after you have read it, that it +has any.” +</p> + +<p> +“Any what? merits or demerits?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, any either.” +</p> + +<p> +“No; I will tell you a better plan than that. I am not going to waste my time +reading it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Waste, indeed!” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly waste. Not when I have a much better plan of finding out what is in +the book. I am going to get you to tell me the story after you have read it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, indeed, and suppose I refuse?” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I don’t know. I only said suppose.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I shall spend the rest of the voyage trying to persuade you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not very easily persuaded, Mr. Morris.” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe that,” said the young man. “I presume I may sit beside you while you +are reading your book?” +</p> + +<p> +“You certainly may, if you wish to. The deck is not mine, only that portion of +it, I suppose, which I occupy with the steamer chair. I have no authority over +any of the rest.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, is that a refusal or an acceptance?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is which ever you choose to think.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, if it is a refusal, it is probably softening down the <i>No</i>, but if +it is an acceptance it is rather an ungracious one, it seems to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, I shall be frank with you. I am very much interested in this book. +I should a great deal rather read it than talk to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, thank you, Miss Earle. There can be no possible doubt about your meaning +now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I am glad of that, Mr. Morris. I am always pleased to think that I can +speak in such a way as not to be misunderstood.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t see any possible way of misunderstanding that. I wish I did.” +</p> + +<p> +“And then, after lunch,” said the young lady, “I think I shall finish the book +before that time;—if you care to sit beside me or to walk the deck with +me, I shall be very glad to tell you the story.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, that is perfectly delightful,” cried the young man. “You throw a person +down into the depths, so that he will appreciate all the more being brought up +into the light again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, not at all. I have no such dramatic ideas in speaking frankly with you. I +merely mean that this forenoon I wish to have to myself, because I am +interested in my book. At the end of the forenoon I shall probably be tired of +my book and will prefer a talk with you. I don’t see why you should think it +odd that a person should say exactly what a person means.” +</p> + +<p> +“And then I suppose in the evening you will be tired of talking with me, and +will want to take up your book again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Possibly.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if you are, you won’t hesitate a moment about saying so?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you are a decidedly frank young lady, Miss Earle; and, after all, I +don’t know but what I like that sort of thing best. I think if all the world +were honest we would all have a better time of it here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you really think so?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I do.” +</p> + +<p> +“You believe in honesty, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, certainly. Have you seen anything in my conduct or bearing that would +induce you to think that I did not believe in honesty?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I can’t say I have. Still, honesty is such a rare quality that a person +naturally is surprised when one comes unexpectedly upon it.” +</p> + +<p> +George Morris found the forenoon rather tedious and lonesome. He sat in the +smoking room, and once or twice he ventured near where Miss Earle sat engrossed +in her book, in the hope that the volume might have been put aside for the +time, and that he would have some excuse for sitting down and talking with her. +Once as he passed she looked up with a bright smile and nodded to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Nearly through?” he asked dolefully. +</p> + +<p> +“Of <i>The Siege of London</i>?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I am through that long ago, and have begun another story.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, that is not according to contract,” claimed Morris. “The contract was +that when you got through with <i>The Siege of London</i> you were to let me +talk with you, and that you were to tell me the story.” +</p> + +<p> +“That was not my interpretation of it. Our bargain, as I understood it, was +that I was to have this forenoon to myself, and that I was to use the forenoon +for reading. I believe my engagement with you began in the afternoon.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish it did,” said the young man, with a wistful look. +</p> + +<p> +“You wish what?” she said, glancing up at him sharply. +</p> + +<p> +He blushed as he bent over towards her and whispered, “That our engagement, +Miss Katherine, began in the afternoon.” +</p> + +<p> +The colour mounted rapidly into her cheeks, and for a moment George Morris +thought he had gone too far. It seemed as if a sharp reply was ready on her +lips; but, as on another occasion, she checked it and said nothing. Then she +opened her book and began to read. He waited for a moment and said— +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Earle, have I offended you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you mean to give offence?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No, certainly, I did not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then why should you think you had offended me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I don’t know, I—” he stammered. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Earle looked at him with such clear, innocent, and unwavering eyes that +the young man felt that he could neither apologise nor make an explanation. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid,” he said, “that I am encroaching on your time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I think you are: that is, if you intend to live up to your contract, and +let me live up to mine. You have no idea how much more interesting this book is +than you are.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you are not a bit flattering, Miss Earle, are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I don’t think I am. Do you try to be?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid that in my lifetime I have tried to be, but I assure you, Miss +Earle, that I don’t try to be flattering, or try to be anything but what I +really am when I am in your company. To tell the truth, I am too much afraid of +you.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Earle smiled and went on with her reading, while Morris went once more +back into the smoking-room. +</p> + +<p> +“Now then,” said George Morris, when lunch was over, “which is it to be? The +luxurious languor of the steamer chair or the energetic exercise of the deck? +Take your choice.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” answered the young lady, “as I have been enjoying the luxurious languor +all the forenoon, I prefer the energetic exercise, if it is agreeable to you, +for a while, at least.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is very agreeable to me. I am all energy this afternoon. In fact, now that +you have consented to allow me to talk with you, I feel as if I were imbued +with a new life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me,” said she, “and all because of the privilege of talking to me?” +</p> + +<p> +“All.” +</p> + +<p> +“How nice that is. You are sure that it is not the effect of the sea air?” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite certain. I had the sea air this forenoon, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, I had forgotten that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, which side of the deck then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, which ever is the least popular side. I dislike a crowd.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think, Miss Earle, that we will have this side pretty much to ourselves. The +madd’ing crowd seems to have a preference for the sunny part of the ship. Now, +then, for the siege of London. Who besieged it?” +</p> + +<p> +“A lady.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did she succeed?” +</p> + +<p> +“She did.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I am very glad to hear it, indeed. What was she besieging it for?” +</p> + +<p> +“For social position, I presume. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, as we say out West, I suppose she had a pretty hard row to hoe?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, she had.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I never can get at the story by cross-questioning. Now, supposing that +you tell it to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think that you had better take the book and read it. I am not a good +story-teller.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, I thought we Americans were considered excellent story-tellers.’ +</p> + +<p> +“We Americans?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I remember now, you do not lay claim to being an American. You are +English, I think you said?” +</p> + +<p> +“I said nothing of the kind. I merely said I lay no claims to being an +American.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that was it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you will be pleased to know that this lady in the siege of London was an +American. You seem so anxious to establish a person’s nationality that I am +glad to be able to tell you at the very first that she was an American, and, +what is more, seemed to be a Western American.” +</p> + +<p> +“Seemed? Oh, there we get into uncertainties again. If I like to know whether +persons are Americans or not, it naturally follows that I am anxious to know +whether they were Western or Eastern Americans. Aren’t you sure she was a +Westerner?” +</p> + +<p> +“The story, unfortunately, leaves that a little vague, so if it displeases you +I shall be glad to stop the telling of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no, don’t do that. I am quite satisfied to take her as an American citizen; +whether she is East or West, or North or South, does not make the slightest +difference to me. Please go on with the story.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, the other characters, I am happy to be able to say, are not at all +indefinite in the matter of nationality. One is an Englishman; he is even more +than that, he is an English nobleman. The other is an American. Then there is +the English nobleman’s mother, who, of course, is an English woman; and the +American’s sister, married to an Englishman, and she, of course, is +English-American. Does that satisfy you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perfectly. Go on.” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems that the besieger, the heroine of the story if you may call her so, +had a past.” +</p> + +<p> +“Has not everybody had a past?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no. This past is known to the American and is unknown to the English +nobleman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, I see; and the American is in love with her in spite of her past?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not in Mr. James’s story.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I beg pardon. Well, go on; I shall not interrupt again.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is the English nobleman who is in love with her in spite of his absence of +knowledge about her past. The English nobleman’s mother is very much against +the match. She tries to get the American to tell what the past of this woman +is. The American refuses to do so. In fact, in Paris he has half promised the +besieger not to say anything about her past. She is besieging London, and she +wishes the American to remain neutral. But the nobleman’s mother at last gets +the American to promise that he will tell her son what he knows of this woman’s +past. The American informs the woman what he has promised the nobleman’s mother +to do, and at this moment the nobleman enters the room. The besieger of London, +feeling that her game is up, leaves them together. The American says to the +nobleman, who stands rather stiffly before him, ‘If you wish to ask me any +questions regarding the lady who has gone out I shall be happy to tell you.’ +Those are not the words of the book, but they are in substance what he said. +The nobleman looked at him for a moment with that hauteur which, we presume, +belongs to noblemen, and said quietly, ‘I wish to know nothing.’ Now, that +strikes me as a very dramatic point in the story.” +</p> + +<p> +“But <i>didn’t</i> he wish to know anything of the woman whom he was going to +marry?” +</p> + +<p> +“I presume that, naturally, he did.” +</p> + +<p> +“And yet he did not take the opportunity of finding out when he had the +chance?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, he did not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what do you think of that?” +</p> + +<p> +“What do I think of it? I think it’s a very dramatic point in the story.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but what do you think of his wisdom in refusing to find out what sort of +a woman he was going to marry? Was he a fool or was he a very noble man?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, I thought I said at the first that he was a nobleman, an Englishman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Katherine, you are dodging the question. I asked your opinion of that +man’s wisdom. Was he wise, or was he a fool?” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you think about it? Do you think he was a fool, or a wise man?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I asked you for your opinion first. However, I have very little +hesitation in saying, that a man who marries a woman of whom he knows nothing, +is a fool.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but he was well acquainted with this woman. It was only her past that he +knew nothing about.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I think you must admit that a woman’s past and a man’s past are very +important parts of their lives. Don’t you agree with me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I agree with you so seldom that I should hesitate to say I did on this +occasion. But I have told the story very badly. You will have to read it for +yourself to thoroughly appreciate the different situations, and then we can +discuss the matter intelligently.” +</p> + +<p> +“You evidently think the man was very noble in refusing to hear anything about +the past of the lady he was interested in.” +</p> + +<p> +“I confess I do. He was noble, at least, in refusing to let a third party tell +him. If he wished any information he should have asked the lady himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but supposing she refused to answer him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, I think he should either have declined to have anything more to do with +her, or, if he kept up his acquaintance, he should have taken her just as she +was, without any reference to her past.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you are right. Still, it is a very serious thing for two people to +marry without knowing something of each other’s lives.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am tired of walking,” said Miss Earle, “I am now going to seek comfort in +the luxuriousness, as you call it, of my steamer chair.” +</p> + +<p> +“And may I go with you?” asked the young man. +</p> + +<p> +“If you also are tired of walking.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know,” he said, “you promised the whole afternoon. You took the forenoon +with <i>The Siege</i>, and now I don’t wish to be cheated out of my half of the +day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, I am rather interested in another story, and if you will take +<i>The Siege of London</i>, and read it, you’ll find how much better the book +is than my telling of the story.” +</p> + +<p> +George Morris had, of course, to content himself with this proposition, and +they walked together to the steamer chairs, over which the gaily coloured rugs +were spread. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I get your book for you?” asked the young man, as he picked up the rugs. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” answered Miss Earle, with a laugh, “you have already done so,” +for, as he shook out the rugs, the two books, which were small handy volumes, +fell out on the deck. +</p> + +<p> +“I see you won’t accept my hint about not leaving the books around. You will +lose some precious volume one of these days.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I fold them in the rugs, and they are all right. Now, here is your volume. +Sit down there and read it.” + +“That means also, ‘and keep quiet,’ I suppose?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t imagine you are versatile enough to read and talk at the same time. +Are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I should be very tempted to try it this afternoon.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Earle went on with her reading, and Morris pretended to go on with his. He +soon found, however, that he could not concentrate his attention on the little +volume in his hand, and so quickly abandoned the attempt, and spent his time in +meditation and in casting furtive glances at his fair companion over the top of +his book. He thought the steamer chair a perfectly delightful invention. It was +an easy, comfortable, and adjustable apparatus, that allowed a person to sit up +or to recline at almost any angle. He pushed his chair back a little, so that +he could watch the profile of Miss Katherine Earle, and the dark tresses that +formed a frame for it, without risking the chance of having his espionage +discovered. +</p> + +<p> +“Aren’t you comfortable?” asked the young lady, as he shoved back his chair. +</p> + +<p> +“I am very, very comfortable,” replied the young man. +</p> + +<p> +“I am glad of that,” she said, as she resumed her reading. +</p> + +<p> +George Morris watched her turn leaf after leaf as he reclined lazily in his +chair, with half-closed eyes, and said to himself, “Shop-girl or not, past or +not, I’m going to propose to that young lady the first good opportunity I get. +I wonder what she will say?” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you like it?” cried the young lady he was thinking of, with a +suddenness that made Morris jump in his chair. +</p> + +<p> +“Like it?” he cried; “oh, I like it immensely.” +</p> + +<p> +“How far have you got?” she continued. +</p> + +<p> +“How far? Oh, a great distance. Very much further than I would have thought it +possible when I began this voyage.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Earle turned and looked at him with wide-open eyes, as he made this +strange reply. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you speaking of?” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, of everything—of the book, of the voyage, of the day.” +</p> + +<p> +“I was speaking of the book,” she replied quietly. “Are you sure you have not +fallen asleep and been dreaming?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fallen asleep? No. Dreaming? Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I hope your dreams have been pleasant ones.” +</p> + +<p> +“They have.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Earle, who seemed to think it best not to follow her investigations any +further, turned once more to her own book, and read it until it was time to +dress for dinner. When that important meal was over, Morris said to Miss Earle: +“Do you know you still owe me part of the day?” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you said you had a very pleasant afternoon.” +</p> + +<p> +“So I had. So pleasant, you see, that I want to have the pleasure prolonged. I +want you to come out and have a walk on the deck now in the starlight. It is a +lovely night, and, besides, you are now halfway across the ocean, and yet I +don’t think you have been out once to see the phosphorescence. That is one of +the standard sights of an ocean voyage. Will you come?” +</p> + +<p> +Although the words were commonplace enough, there was a tremor in his voice +which gave a meaning to them that could not be misunderstood. Miss Earle looked +at him with serene composure, and yet with a touch of reproachfulness in her +glance. “He talks like this to me,” she said to herself, “while he is engaged +to another woman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she answered aloud, with more firmness in her voice than might have +seemed necessary, “I will be happy to walk on the deck with you to see the +phosphorescence.” +</p> + +<p> +He helped to hinder her for a moment in adjusting her wraps, and they went out +in the starlit night together. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” he said, “if we are fortunate enough to find the place behind the +after-wheel house vacant we can have a splendid view of the phosphorescence.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it so much in demand that the place is generally crowded?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I may tell you in confidence,” replied Mr. Morris, “that this particular +portion of the boat is always very popular. Soon as the evening shades prevail +the place is apt to be pre-empted by couples that are very fond of—” +</p> + +<p> +“Phosphorescence,” interjected the young lady. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he said, with a smile that she could not see in the darkness, “of +phosphorescence.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should think,” said she, as they walked towards the stern of the boat, “that +in scientific researches of that sort, the more people who were there, the more +interesting the discussion would be, and the more chance a person would have to +improve his mind on the subject of phosphorescence, or other matters pertaining +to the sea.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied Morris. “A person naturally would think that, and yet, strange +as it may appear, if there ever was a time when two is company and three is a +crowd, it is when looking at the phosphorescence that follows the wake of an +ocean steamer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really?” observed the young lady, archly. “I remember you told me that you had +crossed the ocean several times.” +</p> + +<p> +The young man laughed joyously at this <i>repartee</i>, and his companion +joined him with a laugh that was low and musical. +</p> + +<p> +“He seems very sure of his ground,” she said to herself. “Well, we shall see.” +</p> + +<p> +As they came to the end of the boat and passed behind the temporary wheel-house +erected there, filled with <i>debris</i> of various sorts, blocks and tackle +and old steamer chairs, Morris noticed that two others were there before them +standing close together with arms upon the bulwarks. They were standing very +close together, so close in fact, that in the darkness, it seemed like one +person. But as Morris stumbled over some chains, the dark, united shadow +dissolved itself quickly into two distinct separate shadows. A flagpole stood +at the extreme end of the ship, inclining backwards from the centre of the +bulwarks, and leaning over the troubled, luminous sea beneath. The two who had +taken their position first were on one side of the flag-pole and Morris and +Miss Earle on the other. Their coming had evidently broken the spell for the +others. After waiting for a few moments, the lady took the arm of the gentleman +and walked forward. “Now,” said Morris, with a sigh, “we have the +phosphorescence to ourselves.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is very, very strange,” remarked the lady in a low voice. “It seems as if a +person could see weird shapes arising in the air, as if in torment.” +</p> + +<p> +The young man said nothing for a few moments. He cleared his throat several +times as if to speak, but still remained silent. Miss Earle gazed down at the +restless, luminous water. The throb, throb of the great ship made the bulwarks +on which their arms rested tremble and quiver. +</p> + +<p> +Finally Morris seemed to muster up courage enough to begin, and he said one +word— +</p> + +<p> +“Katherine.” As he said this he placed his hand on hers as it lay white before +him in the darkness upon the trembling bulwark. It seemed to him that she made +a motion to withdraw her hand, and then allowed it to remain where it was. +</p> + +<p> +“Katherine,” he continued, in a voice that he hardly recognised as his own, “we +have known each other only a very short time comparatively; but, as I think I +said to you once before, a day on shipboard may be as long as a month on shore. +Katherine, I want to ask you a question, and yet I do not know—I cannot +find—I—I don’t know what words to use.” +</p> + +<p> +The young lady turned her face towards him, and he saw her clear-cut profile +sharply outlined against the glowing water as he looked down at her. Although +the young man struggled against the emotion, which is usually experienced by +any man in his position, yet he felt reasonably sure of the answer to his +question. She had come with him out into the night. She had allowed her hand to +remain in his. He was, therefore, stricken dumb with amazement when she +replied, in a soft and musical voice— +</p> + +<p> +“You do not know what to say? What do you <i>usually</i> say on such an +occasion?” +</p> + +<p> +“Usually say?” he gasped in dismay. “I do not understand you. What do you +mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t my meaning plain enough? Am I the first young lady to whom you have not +known exactly what to say?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Morris straightened up, and folded his arms across his breast; then, +ridiculously enough, this struck him as a heroic attitude, and altogether +unsuitable for an American, so he thrust his hands deep in his coat pockets. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Earle,” he said, “I knew that you could be cruel, but I did not think it +possible that you could be so cruel as this.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is the cruelty all on my side, Mr. Morris?” she answered. “Have you been +perfectly honest and frank with me? You know you have not. Now, I shall be +perfectly honest and frank with you. I like you very much indeed. I have not +the slightest hesitation in saying this, because it is true, and I don’t care +whether you know it, or whether anybody else knows it or not.” +</p> + +<p> +As she said this the hope which Morris had felt at first, and which had been +dashed so rudely to the ground, now returned, and he attempted to put his arm +about her and draw her to him; but the young lady quickly eluded his grasp, +stepping to the other side of the flag-pole, and putting her hand upon it. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Morris,” she said, “there is no use of your saying anything further. There +is a barrier between us; you know it as well as I. I would like us to be +friends as usual; but, if we are to be, you will have to remember the barrier, +and keep to your own side of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know of no barrier,” cried Morris, vehemently, attempting to come over to +her side. +</p> + +<p> +“There is the barrier,” she said, placing her hand on the flag-pole. “My place +is on this side of that barrier; your place is on the other. If you come on +this side of that flag-pole, I shall leave you. If you remain on your own side, +I shall be very glad to talk with you.” +</p> + +<p> +Morris sullenly took his place on the other side of the flag-pole. “Has there +been anything in my actions,” said the young lady, “during the time we have +been acquainted that would lead you to expect a different answer?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. You have treated me outrageously at times, and that gave me some hope.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Earle laughed her low, musical laugh at this remark. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you may laugh,” said Morris, savagely; “but it is no laughing matter to +me, I assure you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it will be, Mr. Morris, when you come to think of this episode after you +get on shore. It will seem to you very, very funny indeed; and when you speak +to the next young lady on the same subject, perhaps you will think of how +outrageously I have treated your remarks to-night, and be glad that there are +so few young women in the world who would act as I have done.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where did you get the notion,” inquired George Morris, “that I am in the habit +of proposing to young ladies? It is a most ridiculous idea. I have been engaged +once, I confess it. I made a mistake, and I am sorry for it. There is surely +nothing criminal in that.” +</p> + +<p> +“It depends.” +</p> + +<p> +“Depends on what?” +</p> + +<p> +“It depends on how the other party feels about it. It takes two to make an +engagement, and it should take two to break it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it didn’t in my case,” said the young man. +</p> + +<p> +“So I understand,” replied Miss Earle. “Mr. Morris, I wish you a very good +evening.” And before he could say a word she had disappeared in the darkness, +leaving him to ponder bitterly over the events of the evening. +</p> + +<h3>Sixth Day</h3> + +<p> +In the vague hope of meeting Miss Earle, Morris rose early, and for a while +paced the deck alone; but she did not appear. Neither did he have the pleasure +of her company at breakfast. The more the young man thought of their interview +of the previous evening, the more puzzled he was. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Earle had frankly confessed that she thought a great deal of him, and yet +she had treated him with an unfeelingness which left him sore and bitter. She +might have refused him; that was her right, of course. But she need not have +done it so sarcastically. He walked the deck after breakfast, but saw nothing +of Miss Earle. As he paced up and down, he met the very person of all others +whom he did not wish to meet. “Good morning, Mr. Morris,” she said lightly, +holding out her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Good morning,” he answered, taking it without much warmth. +</p> + +<p> +“You are walking the deck all alone, I see. May I accompany you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” said the young man, and with that she put her hand on his arm and +they walked together the first two rounds without saying anything to each +other. Then she looked up at him, with a bright smile, and said, “So she +refused you?” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know?” answered the young man, reddening and turning a quick look +at her. +</p> + +<p> +“How do I know?” laughed the other. “How should I know?” +</p> + +<p> +For a moment it flashed across his mind that Miss Katherine Earle had spoken of +their interview of last night; but a moment later he dismissed the suspicion as +unworthy. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know?” he repeated. +</p> + +<p> +“Because I was told so on very good authority.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t believe it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ha, ha! now you are very rude. It is very rude to say to a lady that she +doesn’t speak the truth.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, rude or not, you are not speaking the truth. Nobody told you such a +thing.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear George, how impolite you are. What a perfect bear you have grown to +be. Do you want to know who told me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t care to know anything about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, nevertheless, I shall tell you. <i>You</i> told me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I did? Nonsense, I never said anything about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you did. Your walk showed it. The dejected look showed it, and when I +spoke to you, your actions, your tone, and your words told it to me plainer +than if you had said, ‘I proposed to Miss Earle last night and I was rejected.’ +You poor, dear innocent, if you don’t brighten up you will tell it to the whole +ship.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sure, Blanche, that I am very much obliged to you for the interest you +take in me. Very much obliged, indeed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no, you are not; and now, don’t try to be sarcastic, it really doesn’t suit +your manner at all. I was very anxious to know how your little flirtation had +turned out. I really was. You know I have an interest in you, George, and +always will have, and I wouldn’t like that spiteful little black-haired minx to +have got you, and I am very glad she refused you, although why she did so I +cannot for the life of me imagine.” +</p> + +<p> +“It must be hard for you to comprehend why she refused me, now that I am a +partner in the firm.” Blanche looked down upon the deck, and did not answer. +</p> + +<p> +“I am glad,” she said finally, looking up brightly at him with her innocent +blue eyes, “that you did not put off your proposal until to-night. We expect to +be at Queenstown to-night some time, and we leave there and go on through by +the Lakes of Killarney. So, you see, if you hadn’t proposed last night I should +have known nothing at all about how the matter turned out, and I should have +died of curiosity and anxiety to know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I would have written to you,” said Morris. “Leave me your address now, and +I’ll write and let you know how it turns out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” she cried quickly, “then it isn’t ended yet? I didn’t think you were a +man who would need to be refused twice or thrice.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should be glad to be refused by Miss Earle five hundred times.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, five hundred times, if on the five hundredth and first time she +accepted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it really so serious as that?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is just exactly that serious.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then your talk to me after all was only pretence?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, only a mistake.” +</p> + +<p> +“What an escape I have had!” +</p> + +<p> +“You have, indeed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, here comes Miss Earle. Really, for a lady who has rejected a gentleman, +she does not look as supremely happy as she might. I must go and have a talk +with her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Look here, Blanche,” cried the young man, angrily, “if you say a word to her +about what we have been speaking of, I’ll—” +</p> + +<p> +“What will you do?” said the young lady, sweetly. +</p> + +<p> +Morris stood looking at her. He didn’t himself know what he would do; and +Blanche, bowing to him, walked along the deck, and sat down in the steamer +chair beside Miss Earle, who gave her a very scant recognition. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, you needn’t be so cool and dignified,” said the lady. “George and I have +been talking over the matter, and I told him he wasn’t to feel discouraged at a +first refusal, if he is resolved to have a shop-girl for his wife.” +</p> + +<p> +“What! Mr. Morris and you have been discussing me, have you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Is there anything forbidden in that, Miss Earle? You must remember that George +and I are very, very old friends, old and dear friends. Did you refuse him on +my account? I know you like him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Like him?” said Miss Earle, with a fierce light in her eyes, as she looked at +her tormentor. “Yes, I like him, and I’ll tell you more than that;” she bent +over and added in an intense whisper, “I love him, and if you say another word +to me about him, or if you dare to discuss me with him, I shall go up to him +where he stands now and accept him. I shall say to him, ‘George Morris, I love +you.’ Now if you doubt I shall do that, just continue in your present style of +conversation.” +</p> + +<p> +Blanche leaned back in the steamer chair and turned a trifle pale. Then she +laughed, that irritating little laugh of hers, and said, “Really I did not +think it had gone so far as that. I’ll bid you good morning.” +</p> + +<p> +The moment the chair was vacated, George Morris strolled up and sat down on it. +</p> + +<p> +“What has that vixen been saying to you?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“That vixen,” said Miss Earle, quietly, “has been telling me that you and she +were discussing me this morning, and discussing the conversation that took +place last night.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is a lie,” said Morris. +</p> + +<p> +“What is? What I say, or what she said, or what she says you said?” +</p> + +<p> +“That we were discussing you, or discussing our conversation, is not true. +Forgive me for using the coarser word. This was how it was; she came up to +me—” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Mr. Morris, don’t say a word. I know well enough that you would not +discuss the matter with anybody. I, perhaps, may go so far as to say, least of +all with her. Still, Mr. Morris, you must remember this, that even if you do +not like her now—” +</p> + +<p> +“Like her?” cried Morris; “I hate her.” +</p> + +<p> +“As I was going to say, and it is very hard for me to say it, Mr. Morris, you +have a duty towards her as you—we all have our duties to perform,” said +Miss Earle, with a broken voice. “You must do yours, and I must do mine. It may +be hard, but it is settled. I cannot talk this morning. Excuse me.” And she +rose and left him sitting there. +</p> + +<p> +“What in the world does the girl mean? I am glad that witch gets off at +Queenstown. I believe it is she who has mixed everything up. I wish I knew what +she has been saying.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Earle kept very closely to her room that day, and in the evening, as they +approached the Fastnet Light, George Morris was not able to find her to tell +her of the fact that they had sighted land. He took the liberty, however, of +scribbling a little note to her, which the stewardess promised to deliver. He +waited around the foot of the companion-way for an answer. The answer came in +the person of Miss Katherine herself. +</p> + +<p> +If refusing a man was any satisfaction, it seemed as if Miss Katherine Earle +had obtained very little gratification from it. She looked weary and sad as she +took the young man’s arm, and her smile as she looked up at him had something +very pathetic in it, as if a word might bring the tears. They sat in the chairs +and watched the Irish coast. Morris pointed out objects here and there, and +told her what they were. At last, when they went down to supper together, he +said— +</p> + +<p> +“We will be at Queenstown some time to-night. It will be quite a curious sight +in the moonlight. Wouldn’t you like to stay up and see it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think I would,” she answered. “I take so few ocean voyages that I wish to +get all the nautical experiences possible.” +</p> + +<p> +The young man looked at her sharply, then he said— +</p> + +<p> +“Well, the stop at Queenstown is one of the experiences. May I send the steward +to rap at your door when the engine stops?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I shall stay up in the saloon until that time?” +</p> + +<p> +“It may be a little late. It may be as late as one or two o’clock in the +morning. We can’t tell. I should think the best thing for you to do would be to +take a rest until the time comes. I think, Miss Earle, you need it.” +</p> + +<p> +It was a little after twelve o’clock when the engine stopped. The saloon was +dimly lighted, and porters were hurrying to and fro, getting up the baggage +which belonged to those who were going to get off at Queenstown. The night was +very still, and rather cold. The lights of Queenstown could be seen here and +there along the semi-circular range of hills on which the town stood. +Passengers who were to land stood around the deck well muffled up, and others +who had come to bid them good-bye were talking sleepily with them. Morris was +about to send the steward to Miss Earle’s room, when that young lady herself +appeared. There was something spirit-like about her, wrapped in her long cloak, +as she walked through the half-darkness to meet George Morris. +</p> + +<p> +“I was just going to send for you,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“I did not sleep any,” was the answer, “and the moment the engine stopped I +knew we were there. Shall we go on deck?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he said, “but come away from the crowd,” and with that he led her +towards the stern of the boat. For a moment Miss Earle seemed to hold back, but +finally she walked along by his side firmly to where they had stood the night +before. With seeming intention Morris tried to take his place beside her, but +Miss Earle, quietly folding her cloak around her, stood on the opposite side of +the flagpole, and, as if there should be no forgetfulness on his part, she +reached up her hand and laid it against the staff. +</p> + +<p> +“She evidently meant what she said,” thought Morris to himself, with a sigh, as +he watched the low, dim outlines of the hills around Queenstown Harbour, and +the twinkling lights here and there. +</p> + +<p> +“That is the tender coming now,” he said, pointing to the red and green lights +of the approaching boat. “How small it looks beside our monster steamship.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Earle shivered. +</p> + +<p> +“I pity the poor folks who have to get up at this hour of the night and go +ashore. I should a great deal rather go back to my state-room.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, there is one passenger I am not sorry for,” said Morris, “and that is +the young woman who has, I am afraid, been saying something to you which has +made you deal more harshly with me than perhaps you might otherwise have done. +I wish you would tell me what she said?” +</p> + +<p> +“She has said nothing,” murmured Miss Earle, with a sigh, “but what you +yourself have confirmed. I do not pay much attention to what she says.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you don’t pay much attention to what I say either,” he replied. +“However, as I say, there is one person I am not sorry for; I even wish it were +raining. I am very revengeful, you see.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know that I am very sorry for her myself,” replied Miss Earle, +frankly; “but I am sorry for her poor old father, who hasn’t appeared in the +saloon a single day except the first. He has been sick the entire voyage.” +</p> + +<p> +“Her father?” cried Morris, with a rising inflection in his voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, bless my soul! Her father has been dead for ages and ages.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then who is the old man she is with?” +</p> + +<p> +“Old man! It would do me good to have her hear you call him the old man. Why, +that is her husband.” +</p> + +<p> +“Her husband!” echoed Miss Earle, with wide open eyes, “I thought he was her +father.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, not at all. It is true, as you know, that I was engaged to the young lady, +and I presume if I had become a partner in our firm sooner we would have been +married. But that was a longer time coming than suited my young lady’s +convenience, and so she threw me over with as little ceremony as you would toss +a penny to a beggar, and she married this old man for his wealth, I presume. I +don’t see exactly why she should take a fancy to him otherwise. I felt very cut +up about it, of course, and I thought if I took this voyage I would at least be +rid for a while of the thought of her. They are now on their wedding trip. That +is the reason your steamer chair was broken, Miss Earle. Here I came on board +an ocean steamer to get rid of the sight or thought of a certain woman, and to +find that I was penned up with that woman, even if her aged husband was with +her, for eight or nine days, was too much for me. So I raced up the deck and +tried to get ashore. I didn’t succeed in that, but I <i>did</i> succeed in +breaking your chair.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Earle was evidently very much astonished at this revelation, but she said +nothing. After waiting in vain for her to speak, Morris gazed off at the dim +shore. When he looked around he noticed that Miss Earle was standing on his +side of the flagstaff. There was no longer a barrier between them. +</p> + +<h3>Seventh Day</h3> + +<p> +If George Morris were asked to say which day of all his life had been the most +thoroughly enjoyable, he would probably have answered that the seventh of his +voyage from New York to Liverpool was the red-letter day of his life. The sea +was as calm as it was possible for a sea to be. The sun shone bright and warm. +Towards the latter part of the day they saw the mountains of Wales, which, from +the steamer’s deck, seemed but a low range of hills. It did not detract from +Morris’s enjoyment to know that Mrs. Blanche was now on the troubleless island +of Ireland, and that he was sailing over this summer sea with the lady who, the +night before, had promised to be his wife. +</p> + +<p> +During the day Morris and Katherine sat together on the sunny side of the ship +looking at the Welsh coast. Their books lay unread on the rug, and there were +long periods of silences between them. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t believe,” said Morris, “that anything could be more perfectly +delightful than this. I wish the shaft would break.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope it won’t,” answered the young lady; “the chances are you would be as +cross as a bear before two days had gone past, and would want to go off in a +small boat.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I should be quite willing to go off in a small boat if you would come with +me. I would do that now.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am very comfortable where I am,” answered Miss Katherine. “I know when to +let well enough alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I don’t, I suppose you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, if you wanted to change this perfectly delightful day for any other day, +or this perfectly luxurious and comfortable mode of travel for any other +method, I should suspect you of not letting well enough alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have to admit,” said George, “that I am completely and serenely happy. The +only thing that bothers me is that to-night we shall be in Liverpool. I wish +this hazy and dreamy weather could last for ever, and I am sure I could stand +two extra days of it going just as we are now. I think with regret of how much +of this voyage we have wasted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you think it was wasted, do you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, wasted as compared with this sort of life. This seems to me like a rest +after a long chase.” +</p> + +<p> +“Up the deck?” asked the young lady, smiling at him. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, see here,” said Morris, “we may as well understand this first as last, +that unfortunate up-the-deck chase has to be left out of our future life. I am +not going to be twitted about that race every time a certain young lady takes a +notion to have a sort of joke upon me.” +</p> + +<p> +“That was no joke, George. It was the most serious race you ever ran in your +life. You were running away from one woman, and, poor blind young man, you ran +right in the arms of another. The danger you have run into is ever so much +greater than the one you were running away from.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I realise that,” said the young man, lightly; “that’s what makes me so +solemn to-day, you know.” His hand stole under the steamer rugs and imprisoned +her own. +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid people will notice that,” she said quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, let them; I don’t care. I don’t know anybody on board this ship, anyhow, +except you, and if you realised how very little I care for their opinions you +would not try to withdraw your hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not trying very hard,” answered the young woman; and then there was +another long silence. Finally she continued— +</p> + +<p> +“I am going to take the steamer chair and do it up in ribbons when I get +ashore.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid it will not be a very substantial chair, no matter what you do +with it. It will be a trap for those who sit in it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you speaking of your own experience?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, of yours.” +</p> + +<p> +“George,” she said, after a long pause, “did you like her very much?” +</p> + +<p> +“Her?” exclaimed the young man, surprised. “Who?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, the young lady you ran away from. You know very well whom I mean.” +</p> + +<p> +“Like her? Why, I hate her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, perhaps you do now. But I am asking of former years. How long were you +engaged to her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Engaged? Let me see, I have been engaged just about—well, not +twenty-four hours yet. I was never engaged before. I thought I was, but I +wasn’t really.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Earle shook her head. “You must have liked her very much,” she said, “or +you never would have proposed marriage to her. You would never have been +engaged to her. You never would have felt so badly when she—” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, say it out,” said George, “jilted me, that is the word.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, that is not the phrase I wanted to use. She didn’t really jilt you, you +know. It was because you didn’t have, or thought you didn’t have, money enough. +She would like to be married to you to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +George shuddered. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish,” he said, “that you wouldn’t mar a perfect day by a horrible +suggestion.” +</p> + +<p> +“The suggestion would not have been so horrible a month ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear girl,” said Morris, rousing himself up, “it’s a subject that I do not +care much to talk about, but all young men, or reasonably young men, make +mistakes in their lives. That was my mistake. My great luck was that it was +discovered in time. As a general thing, affairs in this world are admirably +planned, but it does seem to me a great mistake that young people have to +choose companions for life at an age when they really haven’t the judgment to +choose a house and lot. Now, confess yourself, I am not your first lover, am +I?” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Earle looked at him for a moment before replying. +</p> + +<p> +“You remember,” she said, “that once you spoke of not having to incriminate +yourself. You refused to answer a question I asked you on that ground. Now, I +think this is a case in which I would be quite justified in refusing to answer. +If I told you that you were my first lover, you would perhaps be manlike enough +to think that after all you had only taken what nobody else had expressed a +desire for. A man does not seem to value anything unless some one else is +struggling for it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, what sage and valuable ideas you have about men, haven’t you, my dear?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you can’t deny but what there is truth in them.” +</p> + +<p> +“I not only can, but I do. On behalf of my fellow men, and on behalf of myself, +I deny it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, on the other hand,” she continued, “if I confessed to you that I did +have half a score or half a dozen of lovers, you would perhaps think I had been +jilting somebody or had been jilted. So you see, taking it all in, and thinking +the matter over, I shall refuse to answer your question.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you will not confess?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I shall confess. I have been wanting to confess to you for some little +time, and have felt guilty because I did not do so.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am prepared to receive the confession,” replied the young man, lazily, “and +to grant absolution.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you talk a great deal about America and about Americans, and talk as if +you were proud of the country, and of its ways, and of its people.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, I am,” answered the young man. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, then; according to your creed one person is just as good as +another.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I don’t say that, I don’t hold that for a moment. I don’t think I am as +good as you, for instance.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what I mean is this, that one’s occupation does not necessarily give one a +lower station than another. If that is not your belief then you are not a true +American, that is all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, yes, that is my belief. I will admit I believe all that. What of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“What of it? There is this of it. You are the junior partner of a large +establishment in New York?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing criminal in that, is there?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I don’t put it as an accusation, I am merely stating the fact. You admit +the fact, of course?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. The fact is admitted, and marked <i>Exhibit A,</i> and placed in +evidence. Now, what next?” +</p> + +<p> +“In the same establishment there was a young woman who sold ribbons to all +comers?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I admit that also, and the young lady’s name was Miss Katherine Earle.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you knew it, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, certainly I did.” +</p> + +<p> +“You knew it before you proposed to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I seem to have known that fact for years and years.” +</p> + +<p> +“She told it to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“She? What she?” +</p> + +<p> +“You know very well who I mean, George. She told it to you, didn’t she?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, don’t you think I remembered you—remembered seeing you there?” +</p> + +<p> +“I know very well you did not. You may have seen me there, but you did not +remember me. The moment I spoke to you on the deck that day in the broken +chair, I saw at once you did not remember me, and there is very little use of +your trying to pretend you thought of it afterwards. She told it to you, didn’t +she?” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, look here, Katherine, it isn’t I who am making a confession, it is you. +It is not customary for a penitent to cross-examine the father confessor in +that style.” +</p> + +<p> +“It does not make any difference whether you confess or not, George; I shall +always know she told you that. After all, I wish she had left it for me to +tell. I believe I dislike that woman very much.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shake hands, Kate, over that. So do I. Now, my dear, tell me what she told +<i>you</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then she <i>did</i> tell you that, did she?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, if you are so sure of it without my admitting it, why do you ask again?” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose because I wanted to make doubly sure.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, assurance is doubly sure. I admit she did.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you listened to her, George?” said Katherine, reproachfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Listened? Why, of course I did. I couldn’t help myself. She said it before I +knew what she was going to say. She didn’t give me the chance that your man had +in that story you were speaking of. I said something that irritated her and she +out with it at once as if it had been a crime on your part. I did not look on +it in that light, and don’t now. Anyhow, you are not going back to the ribbon +counter.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” answered the young lady, with a sigh, looking dreamily out into the hazy +distance. “No, I am not.” +</p> + +<p> +“At least, not that side of the counter,” said George. +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him for a moment, as if she did not understand him; then she +laughed lightly. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said Morris, “I have done most of the confession on this confession of +yours. Supposing I make a confession, and ask you to tell me what she told +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, she told me that you were a very fascinating young man,” answered +Katherine, with a sigh. +</p> + +<p> +“Really. And did after-acquaintance corroborate that statement?” +</p> + +<p> +“I never had occasion to tell her she was mistaken.” +</p> + +<p> +“What else did she say? Didn’t mention anything about my prospects or financial +standing in any way?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; we did not touch on that subject.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, now, you cannot evade the question. What else did she say to you about +me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know that it is quite right to tell you, but I suppose I may. She said +that you were engaged to her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Had been.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, were.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that’s it. She did not tell you she was on her wedding tour?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, she did not.” +</p> + +<p> +“And didn’t you speak to her about her father being on board?” +</p> + +<p> +Katherine laughed her low, enjoyable laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she said, “I did, and I did not think till this moment of how flustered +she looked. But she recovered her lost ground with a great deal of dexterity.” +</p> + +<p> +“By George, I should like to have heard that! I am avenged!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, so is she,” was the answer. +</p> + +<p> +“How is that?” +</p> + +<p> +“You are engaged to me, are you not?” +</p> + +<p> +Before George could make any suitable reply to this bit of humbug, one of the +officers of the ship stopped before them. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” he said, “I am afraid we shall not see Liverpool to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really. Why?” asked George. +</p> + +<p> +“This haze is settling down into a fog. It will be as thick as pea-soup before +an hour. I expect there will be a good deal of grumbling among the passengers.” +</p> + +<p> +As he walked on, George said to Katherine, “There are two passengers who won’t +grumble any, will they, my dear?” +</p> + +<p> +“I know one who won’t,” she answered. +</p> + +<p> +The fog grew thicker and thicker; the vessel slowed down, and finally stopped, +sounding every now and then its mournful, timber-shaking whistle. +</p> + +<h3>Eighth Day</h3> + +<p> +On the afternoon of the eighth day George Morris and Katherine Earle stood +together on the deck of the tender, looking back at the huge steamship which +they had just left. +</p> + +<p> +“When we return,” he said, “I think we shall choose this ship.” +</p> + +<p> +“Return?” she answered, looking at him. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, certainly; we are going back, are we not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me,” she replied, “I had not thought of that. You see, when I left +America I did not intend to go back.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you not? I thought you were only over here for the trip.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no. I told you I came on business, not on pleasure.” +</p> + +<p> +“And did you intend to stay over here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, that’s strange; I never thought of that.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is strange, too,” said Katherine, “that I never thought of going back.” +</p> + +<p> +“And—and,” said the young man, “won’t you go?” +</p> + +<p> +She pressed his arm, and stood motionless. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Where thou goest, I will go. Thy people shall be my people.</i>” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a quotation, I suppose?” said George. +</p> + +<p> +“It is,” answered Katherine. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you see, as I told you, I am not very well read up on the books of the +day.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know whether you would call that one of the books of the day or not,” +said Katherine; “it is from the Bible.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” answered the other. “I believe, Kate, you will spend the rest of your +life laughing at me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no,” said the young lady, “I always thought I was fitted for missionary +life. Now, look what a chance I have.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have taken a big contract, I admit.” +</p> + +<p> +They had very little trouble with their luggage. It is true that the English +officials looked rather searchingly in Katherine’s trunk for dynamite, but, +their fears being allayed in that direction, the trunks were soon chalked and +on the back of a stout porter, who transferred them to the top of a cab. +</p> + +<p> +“I tell you what it is,” said George, “it takes an American Custom-house +official to make the average American feel ashamed of his country.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, I did not think there was anything over there that could make you feel +ashamed of your country. You are such a thorough-going American.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, the Customs officials in New York have a knack of making a person feel +that he belongs to no place on earth.” +</p> + +<p> +They drove to the big Liverpool hotel which is usually frequented by Americans +who land in that city, and George spent the afternoon in attending to business +in Liverpool, which he said he did not expect to have to look after when he +left America, but which he desired very much to get some information about. +</p> + +<p> +Katherine innocently asked if she could be of any assistance to him, and he +replied that she might later on, but not at the present state of proceedings. +</p> + +<p> +In the evening they went to a theatre together, and took a long route back to +the hotel. +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t a very pretty city,” said Miss Earle. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I think you are mistaken,” replied her lover. “To me it is the most +beautiful city in the world.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you really mean that?” she said, looking at him with surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I do. It is the first city through which I have walked with the lady who +is to be my wife.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, indeed,” remarked the lady who was to be his wife, “and have you never +walked with—” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, see here,” said Morris, “that subject is barred out. We left all those +allusions on the steamer. I say I am walking now with the lady who <i>is</i> to +be my wife. I think that statement of the case is perfectly correct, is it +not?” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe it is rather more accurate than the average statement of the average +American.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Katherine,” he said, “do you know what information I have been looking up +since I have been in Liverpool?” +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t the slightest idea,” she said. “Property?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, not property.” +</p> + +<p> +“Looking after your baggage, probably?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I think you have got it this time. I <i>was</i> looking after my +baggage. I was trying to find out how and when we could get married.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, oh! Does that shock you? I find they have some idiotic arrangement by +which a person has to live here three months before he can be married, although +I was given some hope that, by paying for it, a person could get a special +licence. If that is the case, I am going to have a special licence to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, indeed. Then we can be married at the hotel.” +</p> + +<p> +“And don’t you think, George, that I might have something to say about that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, certainly! I intended to talk with you about it. Of course I am talking +with you now on that subject. You admitted the possibility of our getting +married. I believe I had better get you to put it down in writing, or have you +say it before witnesses, or something of that sort.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I shouldn’t like to be married in a hotel.” +</p> + +<p> +“In a church, then? I suppose I can make arrangements that will include a +church. A parson will marry us. That parson, if he is the right sort, will have +a church. It stands to reason, therefore, that if we give him the contract he +will give us the use of his church, <i>quid pro quo</i>, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t talk flippantly, please. I think it better to wait until to-morrow, +George, before you do anything rash. I want to see something of the country. I +want us to take a little journey together to-morrow, and then, out in the +country, not in this grimy, sooty city, we will make arrangements for our +marriage.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right, my dear. Where do you intend to go?” +</p> + +<p> +“While you have been wasting your time in getting information relating to +matrimony, I have been examining time-tables. Where I want to go is two or +three hours’ ride from here. We can take one of the morning trains, and when we +get to the place I will allow you to hire a conveyance, and we will have a real +country drive. Will you go with me?” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Will</i> I? You better believe I will. But you see, Katherine, I want to +get married as soon as possible. Then we can take a little trip on the +Continent before it is time for us to go back to America. You have never been +on the Continent, have you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Never.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I am very glad of that. I shall be your guide, philosopher, and friend, +and, added to that, your husband.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, we will arrange all that on our little excursion to-morrow.” +</p> + +<h3>Ninth Day</h3> + +<p> +Spring in England—and one of those perfect spring days in which all rural +England looks like a garden. The landscape was especially beautiful to American +eyes, after the more rugged views of Transatlantic scenery. The hedges were +closely clipped, the fields of the deepest green, and the hills far away were +blue and hazy in the distance. +</p> + +<p> +“There is no getting over the fact,” said Morris, “that this is the prettiest +country in the whole world.” +</p> + +<p> +During most of the journey Katherine Earle sat back in her corner of the +first-class compartment, and gazed silently out of the flying windows. She +seemed too deeply impressed with the beauty of the scene to care for +conversation even with the man she was to marry. At last they stopped at a +pretty little rural station, with the name of the place done in flowers of +vivid colour that stood out against the brown of the earth around, them and the +green turf which formed the sloping bank. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said George, as they stood on the platform, “whither away? Which +direction?” +</p> + +<p> +“I want to see,” said she, “a real, genuine, old English country home.” +</p> + +<p> +“A castle?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, not a castle.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I know what you want. Something like Haddon Hall, or that sort of thing. +An old manor house. Well, wait a minute, and I’ll talk to the station master, +and find out all there is about this part of the country.” +</p> + +<p> +And before she could stop him, he had gone to make his inquiry of that +official. Shortly after he came back with a list of places that were worth +seeing, which he named. +</p> + +<p> +“Holmwood House,” she repeated. “Let us see that. How far is it?” +</p> + +<p> +George again made inquiries, and found that it was about eight miles away. The +station-master assured him that the road thither was one of the prettiest +drives in the whole country. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, what kind of a conveyance will you have? There are four-wheeled cabs, and +there is even a hansom to be had. Will you have two horses or one, and will you +have a coachman?” +</p> + +<p> +“None of these,” she said, “if you can get something you can drive +yourself—I suppose you are a driver?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I have driven a buggy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, get some sort of conveyance that we can both sit in while you drive.” +</p> + +<p> +“But don’t you think we will get lost?” +</p> + +<p> +“We can inquire the way,” she said, “and if we do get lost, it won’t matter. I +want to have a long talk with you before we reach the place.” +</p> + +<p> +They crossed the railway by a bridge over the line, and descended into a valley +along which the road wound. +</p> + +<p> +The outfit which George had secured was a neat little cart made of wood in the +natural colour and varnished, and a trim little pony, which looked ridiculously +small for two grown people, and yet was, as George afterwards said, “as tough +as a pine knot.” +</p> + +<p> +The pony trotted merrily along, and needed no urging. George doubtless was a +good driver, but whatever talents he had in that line were not brought into +play. The pony was a treasure that had apparently no bad qualities. For a long +time the two in the cart rode along the smooth highway silently, until at last +Morris broke out with— +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, see here! This is not according to contract. You said you wanted a long +talk, and now you are complacently saying nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know exactly how to begin.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it so serious as all that?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not serious exactly—it is merely, as it were, a continuation of +the confession.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought we were through with that long ago. Are there any more horrible +revelations?” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him with something like reproach in her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“If you are going to talk flippantly, I think I will postpone what I have to +say until another time.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Kate, give a man a chance. He can’t reform in a moment. I never had my +flippancy checked before. Now then, I am serious again. What appalling—I +mean—you see how difficult it is, Katherine—I mean, what serious +subject shall we discuss?” +</p> + +<p> +“Some other time.” +</p> + +<p> +“No—now. I insist on it. Otherwise I will know I am unforgiven.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is nothing to forgive. I merely wanted to tell you something more than +you know about my own history.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know more now than that man in the story.” +</p> + +<p> +“He did not object to the knowledge, you know. He objected to receiving it from +a third person. Now I am not a third person, am I?” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, you are not. You are first person singular—at present—the +first person to me at least. There, I am afraid I have dropped into flippancy +again.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is not flippancy. That is very nice.” The interval shall be unreported. +</p> + +<p> +At last Katherine said quietly, “My mother came from this part of England.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! That is why you wanted to come here.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is why I wanted to come here. She was her father’s only daughter, and, +strange to say, he was very fond of her, and proud of her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why strange?” +</p> + +<p> +“Strange from his action for years after. She married against his will. He +never forgave her. My father did not seem to have the knack of getting along in +the world, and he moved to America in the hope of bettering his condition. He +did not better it. My father died ten years ago, a prematurely broken down man, +and my mother and I struggled along as best we could until she died two years +ago. My grandfather returned her letter unopened when mother wrote to him ten +years ago, although the letter had a black border around it. When I think of +her I find it hard to forgive him, so I suppose some of his nature has been +transmitted to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Find it hard? Katherine, if you were not an angel you would find it +impossible.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, there is nothing more to tell, or at least, not much. I thought you +should know this. I intended to tell you that last day on shipboard, but it +seemed to me that here was where it should be told—among the hills and +valleys that she saw when she was my age.” +</p> + +<p> +“Katherine, my dear, do not think about it any more than you can help. It will +only uselessly depress you. Here is a man coming. Let us find out now whether +we have lost our way or not.” +</p> + +<p> +They had. +</p> + +<p> +Even after that they managed to get up some wrong lanes and byways, and took +several wrong turnings; but by means of inquiry from every one they met, they +succeeded at last in reaching the place they were in search of. +</p> + +<p> +There was an old and grey porter’s lodge, and an old and grey gateway, with two +tall, moss-grown stone pillars, and an iron gate between them. On the top of +the pillars were crumbled stone shields, seemingly held in place by a lion on +each pillar. +</p> + +<p> +“Is this Holmwood House?” asked Morris of the old and grey man who came out of +the porter’s lodge. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir, it be,” replied the man. +</p> + +<p> +“Are visitors permitted to see the house and the grounds?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, they be’ant,” was the answer. “Visitors were allowed on Saturdays in the +old Squire’s time, but since he died they tell me the estate is in the courts, +and we have orders from the London lawyers to let nobody in.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can make it worth your while,” said George, feeling in his vest pocket; +“this lady would like to see the house.” +</p> + +<p> +The old man shook his head, even although George showed him a gold piece +between his finger and thumb. Morris was astonished at this, for he had the +mistaken belief which all Americans have, that a tip in Europe, if it is only +large enough, will accomplish anything. +</p> + +<p> +“I think perhaps I can get permission,” said Katherine, “if you will let me +talk a while to the old man.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right. Go ahead,” said George. “I believe you could wheedle anybody into +doing what he shouldn’t do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, after saying that, I shall not allow you to listen. I shall step down and +talk with him a moment and you can drive on for a little distance, and come +back.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that’s all right,” said George, “I know how it is. You don’t want to give +away the secret of your power. Be careful, now, in stepping down. This is not +an American buggy,” but before he had finished the warning, Katherine had +jumped lightly on the gravel, and stood waiting for him to drive on. When he +came back he found the iron gates open. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall not get in again,” she said. “You may leave the pony with this man, +George, he will take care of it. We can walk up the avenue to the house.” +</p> + +<p> +After a short walk under the spreading old oaks they came in sight of the +house, which was of red brick and of the Elizabethan style of architecture. +</p> + +<p> +“I am rather disappointed with that,” said George, “I always thought old +English homesteads were of stone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, this one at least is of brick, and I imagine you will find a great many +of them are of the same material.” +</p> + +<p> +They met with further opposition from the housekeeper who came to the door +which the servant had opened after the bell was rung. +</p> + +<p> +She would allow nobody in the house, she said. As for Giles, if he allowed +people on the grounds that was his own look-out, but she had been forbidden by +the lawyers to allow anybody in the house, and she had let nobody in, and she +wasn’t going to let anybody in. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I offer her a tip?” asked George, in a whisper. +</p> + +<p> +“No, don’t do that.” +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t wheedle her like you did the old man, you know. A woman may do a +great deal with a man, but when she meets another woman she meets her match. +You women know each other, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile the housekeeper, who had been about to shut the door, seemed to pause +and regard the young lady with a good deal of curiosity. Her attention had +before that time been taken up with the gentleman. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I shall walk to the end of the terrace, and give you a chance to try +your wiles. But I am ready to bet ten dollars that you don’t succeed.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll take you,” answered the young lady. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you said you would that night on the steamer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that’s a very good way of getting out of a hopeless bet.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am ready to make the bet all right enough, but I know you haven’t a +ten-dollar bill about you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that is very true, for I have changed all my money to English currency; +but I am willing to bet its equivalent.” +</p> + +<p> +Morris walked to the end of the terrace. When he got back he found that the +door of the house was as wide open as the gates of the park had been. +</p> + +<p> +“There is something uncanny about all this,” he said. “I am just beginning to +see that you have a most dangerous power of fascination. I could understand it +with old Giles, but I must admit that I thought the stern housekeeper +would—” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear George,” interrupted Katherine, “almost anything can be accomplished +with people, if you only go about it the right way.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, what is there to be seen in this house?” +</p> + +<p> +“All that there is to be seen about any old English house. I thought, perhaps, +you might be interested in it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I am. But I mean, isn’t there any notable things? For instance, I was in +Haddon Hall once, and they showed me the back stairway where a fair lady had +eloped with her lover. Have they anything of that kind to show here?” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Earle was silent for a few moments. “Yes,” she said, “I am afraid they +have.” +</p> + +<p> +“Afraid? Why, that is perfectly delightful. Did the young lady of the house +elope with her lover?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, don’t talk in that way, George,” she said. “Please don’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I won’t, if you say so. I admit those little episodes generally turn out +badly. Still you must acknowledge that they add a great interest to an old +house of the Elizabethan age like this?” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Earle was silent. They had, by this time, gone up the polished stairway, +which was dimly lighted by a large window of stained glass. +</p> + +<p> +“Here we are in the portrait hall,” said Miss Earle. “There is a picture here +that I have never seen, although I have heard of it, and I want to see it. +Where is it?” she asked, turning to the housekeeper, who had been following +them up the stairs. +</p> + +<p> +“This way, my lady,” answered the housekeeper, as she brought them before a +painting completely concealed by a dark covering of cloth. +</p> + +<p> +“Why is it covered in that way? To keep the dust from it?” +</p> + +<p> +The housekeeper hesitated for a moment; then she said— +</p> + +<p> +“The old Squire, my lady, put that on when she left, and it has never been +taken off since.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then take it off at once,” demanded Katherine Earle, in a tone that astonished +Morris. +</p> + +<p> +The housekeeper, who was too dignified to take down the covering herself, went +to find the servant, but Miss Earle, with a gesture of impatience, grasped the +cloth and tore it from its place, revealing the full-length portrait of a young +lady. +</p> + +<p> +Morris looked at the portrait in astonishment, and then at the girl by his +side. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Katherine,” he cried, “it is your picture!” +</p> + +<p> +The young lady was standing with her hands tightly clenched and her lips +quivering with nervous excitement. There were tears in her eyes, and she did +not answer her lover for a moment; then she said— +</p> + +<p> +“No, it is not my picture. This is a portrait of my mother.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap2">Mrs. Tremain</a></h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“And Woman, wit a flaming torch<br/> + Sings heedless, in a powder-mine<br/> +Her careless smiles they warp and scorch<br/> + Man’s heart, as fire the pine<br/> +Cuts keener than the thrust of lance<br/> + Her glance” +</p> + +<p> +The trouble about this story is that it really has no ending. Taking an ocean +voyage is something like picking up an interesting novel, and reading a chapter +in the middle of it. The passenger on a big steamer gets glimpses of other +people’s lives, but he doesn’t know what the beginning was, nor what the ending +will be. +</p> + +<p> +The last time I saw Mrs. Tremain she was looking over her shoulder and smiling +at Glendenning as she walked up the gangway plank at Liverpool, hanging +affectionately on the arm of her husband. I said to myself at the time, “You +silly little handsome idiot, Lord only knows what trouble you will cause before +flirting has lost its charm for you.” Personally I would like to have shoved +Glendenning off the gangway plank into the dark Mersey; but that would have +been against the laws of the country on which we were then landing. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Tremain was a woman whom other women did not like, and whom men did. +Glendenning was a man that the average man detested, but he was a great +favourite with the ladies. +</p> + +<p> +I shall never forget the sensation Mrs. Tremain caused when she first entered +the saloon of our steamer. I wish I were able to describe accurately just how +she was dressed; for her dress, of course, had a great deal to do with her +appearance, notwithstanding the fact that she was one of the loveliest women I +ever saw in my life. But it would require a woman to describe her dress with +accuracy, and I am afraid any woman who was on board the steamer that trip +would decline to help me. Women were in the habit of sniffing when Mrs. +Tremain’s name was mentioned. Much can be expressed by a woman’s sniff. All +that I can say about Mrs. Tremain’s dress is that it was of some dark material, +brightly shot with threads of gold, and that she had looped in some way over +her shoulders and around her waist a very startlingly coloured silken scarf, +while over her hair was thrown a black lace arrangement that reached down +nearly to her feet, giving her a half-Spanish appearance. A military-looking +gentleman, at least twice her age, was walking beside her. He was as grave and +sober as she appeared light and frivolous, and she walked by his side with a +peculiar elastic step, that seemed hardly to touch the carpet, laughing and +talking to him just as if fifty pair of eyes were not riveted upon her as the +pair entered. Everybody thought her a Spanish woman; but, as it turned out +afterward, she was of Spanish-Mexican-American origin, and whatever beauty +there is in those three nationalities seemed to be blended in some subtle, +perfectly indescribable way in the face and figure of Mrs. Tremain. +</p> + +<p> +The grave military-looking gentleman at her side was Captain Tremain, her +husband, although in reality he was old enough to be her father. He was a +captain in the United States army, and had been stationed at some fort near the +Mexican border where he met the young girl whom he made his wife. She had seen +absolutely nothing of the world, and they were now on their wedding trip to +Europe, the first holiday he had taken for many a year. +</p> + +<p> +In an incredibly short space of time Mrs. Tremain was the acknowledged belle of +the ship. She could not have been more than nineteen or twenty years of age, +yet she was as perfectly at her ease, and as thoroughly a lady as if she had +been accustomed to palaces and castles for years. It was astonishing to see how +naturally she took to it. She had lived all her life in a rough village in the +wilds of the South-West, yet she had the bearing of a duchess or a queen. +</p> + +<p> +The second day out she walked the deck with the captain, which, as everybody +knows, is a very great honour. She always had a crowd of men around her, and +apparently did not care the snap of her pretty fingers whether a woman on board +spoke to her or not. Her husband was one of those slow-going, sterling men whom +you meet now and again, with no nonsense about him, and with a perfect trust in +his young wife. He was delighted to see her enjoying her voyage so well, and +proud of the universal court that was paid to her. It was quite evident to +everybody on board but himself that Mrs. Tremain was a born coquette, and the +way she could use those dark, languishing, Spanish-Mexican eyes of hers was a +lesson to flirts all the world over. It didn’t, apparently, so much matter as +long as her smiles were distributed pretty evenly over the whole masculine +portion of the ship. But by-and-by things began to simmer down until the smiles +were concentrated on the most utterly objectionable man on +board—Glendenning. She walked the deck with him, she sat in cozy corners +of the saloon with him, when there were not many people there, and at night +they placed their chairs in a little corner of the deck where the electric +light did not shine. One by one the other admirers dropped off, and left her +almost entirely to Glendenning. +</p> + +<p> +Of all those of us who were deserted by Mrs. Tremain none took it so hard as +young Howard of Brooklyn. I liked Howard, for he was so palpably and +irretrievably young, through no fault of his own, and so thoroughly ashamed of +it. He wished to be considered a man of the world, and he had grave opinions on +great questions, and his opinions were ever so much more settled and firm than +those of us older people. +</p> + +<p> +Young Howard confided a good deal in me, and even went so far one time as to +ask if I thought he appeared very young, and if I would believe he was really +as old as he stated. +</p> + +<p> +I told him frankly I had taken him to be a very much older man than that, and +the only thing about him I didn’t like was a certain cynicism and knowledge of +the world which didn’t look well in a man who ought to be thinking about the +serious things of life. After this young Howard confided in me even more than +before. He said that he didn’t care for Mrs. Tremain in that sort of way at +all. She was simply an innocent child, with no knowledge of the world whatever, +such as he and I possessed. Her husband—and in this I quite agreed with +him—had two bad qualities: in the first place he was too easy going at +the present, and in the second place he was one of those quiet men who would do +something terrible if once he were aroused. +</p> + +<p> +One day, as young Howard and I walked the deck together, he burst out with this +extraordinary sentiment— +</p> + +<p> +“All women,” he said, “are canting hypocrites.” +</p> + +<p> +“When a man says that,” I answered, “he means some particular woman. What woman +have you in your eye, Howard?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I mean <i>all</i> women. All the women on board this boat, for instance.” +</p> + +<p> +“Except one, of course,” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he answered, “except one. Look at the generality of women,” he cried +bitterly; “especially those who are what they call philanthropic and good. They +will fuss and mourn over some drunken wretch who cannot be reclaimed, and would +be no use if he could, and they will spend their time and sympathy over some +creature bedraggled in the slums, whose only hope can be death, and that as +soon as possible, yet not one of them will lift a finger to save a fellow +creature from going over the brink of ruin. They will turn their noses in the +air when a word from them would do some good, and then they will spend their +time fussing and weeping over somebody that nothing on earth can help.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Howard,” I said, “that’s your cynicism which I’ve so often deplored. Come +down to plain language, and tell me what you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Look at the women on board this steamer,” he cried indignantly. “There’s +pretty little Mrs. Tremain, who seems to have become fascinated by that +scoundrel Glendenning. Any person can see what kind of a man he is—any +one but an innocent child, such as Mrs. Tremain is. Now, no man can help. What +she needs is some good kindly woman to take her by the hand and give her a word +of warning. Is there a woman on board of this steamer who will do it? Not one. +They see as plainly as any one else how things are drifting; but it takes a man +who has murdered his wife to get sympathy and flowers from the modern so-called +lady.” +</p> + +<p> +“Didn’t you ever hear of the man, Howard, who made a large sum of money, I +forget at the moment exactly how much, by minding his own business?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, it’s all very well to talk like that; but I would like to pitch +Glendenning overboard.” +</p> + +<p> +“I admit that it would be a desirable thing to do, but if anybody is to do it, +it is Captain Tremain and not you. Are you a married man, Howard?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” answered Howard, evidently very much flattered by the question. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you see, a person never can tell on board ship; but, if you happen to +be, it seems to me that you wouldn’t care for any outsider to interfere in a +matter such as we are discussing. At any rate Mrs. Tremain is a married woman, +and I can’t see what interest you should have in her. Take my advice and leave +her alone, and if you want to start a reforming crusade among women, try to +convert the rest of the ladies of the ship to be more charitable and speak the +proper word in time.” +</p> + +<p> +“You may sneer as much as you like,” answered young Howard, “but I will tell +you what I am going to do. <i>Two is company, and three is none</i>; I’m going +to make the third, as far as Mrs. Tremain and Glendenning are concerned.” +</p> + +<p> +“Supposing she objects to that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very likely she will; I don’t care. The voyage lasts only a few days longer, +and I am going to make the third party at any +<i>tête-à-tête</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dangerous business, Howard; first thing, you know, Glendenning will be wanting +to throw <i>you</i> overboard.” +</p> + +<p> +“I would like to see him try it,” said the young fellow, clenching his fist. +</p> + +<p> +And young Howard was as good as his word. It was very interesting to an +onlooker to see the way the different parties took it. Mrs. Tremain seemed to +be partly amused with the boy, and think it all rather good fun. Glendenning +scowled somewhat, and tried to be silent; but, finding that made no particular +difference, began to make allusions to the extreme youth of young Howard, and +seemed to try to provoke him, which laudable intention, to young Howard’s great +credit, did not succeed. +</p> + +<p> +One evening I came down the forward narrow staircase, that leads to the long +corridor running from the saloon, and met, under the electric light at the +foot, Mrs. Tremain, young Howard, and Glendenning. They were evidently about to +ascend the stairway; but, seeing me come down, they paused, and I stopped for a +moment to have a chat with them, and see how things were going on. +</p> + +<p> +Glendenning said, addressing me, “Don’t you think it’s time for children to be +in bed?” +</p> + +<p> +“If you mean me,” I answered, “I am just on my way there.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Tremain and young Howard laughed, and Glendenning after that ignored both +Howard and myself. +</p> + +<p> +He said to Mrs. Tremain, “I never noticed you wearing that ring before. It is a +very strange ornament.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” answered Mrs. Tremain, turning it round and round. “This is a Mexican +charmed ring. There is a secret about it, see if you can find it out.” And with +that she pulled off the ring, and handed it to Glendenning. +</p> + +<p> +“You ought to give it to him as a keepsake,” said young Howard, aggressively. +“The ring, I notice, is a couple of snakes twisted together.” +</p> + +<p> +“Little boys,” said Mrs. Tremain, laughing, “shouldn’t make remarks like that. +They lead to trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +Young Howard flushed angrily as Mrs. Tremain said this. He did not seem to mind +it when Glendenning accused him of his youth, but he didn’t like it coming from +her. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Glendenning was examining the ring, and suddenly it came apart in his +hand. The coils of the snake were still linked together, but instead of +composing one solid ring they could now be spread several inches apart like the +links of a golden chain. Mrs. Tremain turned pale, and gave a little shriek, as +she saw this. +</p> + +<p> +“Put it together again,” she cried; “put it together quickly.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter?” said Glendenning, looking up at her. She was standing two +or three steps above him; Glendenning was at the bottom of the stair; young +Howard stood on the same step as Mrs. Tremain, and I was a step or two above +them. +</p> + +<p> +“Put it together,” cried Mrs. Tremain again. “I am trying to,” said +Glendenning, “is there a spring somewhere?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I cannot tell you,” she answered, nervously clasping and unclasping her +hands; “but if you do not put it together without help, that means very great +ill-luck for both you and me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does it?” said Glendenning, looking up at her with a peculiar glance, quite +ignoring our presence. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it does,” she said; “try your best to put that ring together as you found +it.” It was quite evident that Mrs. Tremain had all the superstition of Mexico. +</p> + +<p> +Glendenning fumbled with the ring one way and another, and finally said, “I +cannot put it together.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let me try,” said young Howard. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, that will do no good.” Saying which Mrs. Tremain snatched the links +from Glendenning, slipped them into one ring again, put it on her finger, and +dashed quickly up the stairs without saying a word of good night to any of us. +</p> + +<p> +Glendenning was about to proceed up the stair after her, when young Howard very +ostentatiously placed himself directly in his path. Glendenning seemed to +hesitate for a moment, then thought better of it, turned on his heel and walked +down the passage towards the saloon. +</p> + +<p> +“Look here, Howard,” I said, “you are going to get yourself into trouble. +There’s sure to be a fuss on board this steamer before we reach Liverpool.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wouldn’t be at all surprised,” answered young Howard. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, do you think it will be quite fair to Mrs. Tremain?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I shan’t bring her name into the matter.” +</p> + +<p> +“The trouble will be to keep her name out. It may not be in your power to do +that. A person who interferes in other people’s affairs must do so with tact +and caution.” +</p> + +<p> +Young Howard looked up at me with a trace of resentment in his face. “Aren’t +you interfering now?” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“You are quite right, I am. Good night.” And I went up the stairway. Howard +shouted after me, but I did not see him again that night. +</p> + +<p> +Next day we were nearing Queenstown, and, as I had letters to write, I saw +nothing of young Howard till the evening. I found him unreasonably contrite for +what he had said to me the night before; and when I told him he had merely +spoken the truth, and was quite justified in doing so, he seemed more miserable +than ever. +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” he said, “let us have a walk on the deck.” +</p> + +<p> +It was between nine and ten o’clock; and when we got out on the deck, I said to +him, “Without wishing to interfere any further—” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, don’t say that,” he cried; “it is cruel.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I merely wanted to know where your two charges are.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” he answered, in a husky whisper; “they are not in the usual +corner to-night, and I don’t know where they are.” +</p> + +<p> +“She is probably with her husband,” I suggested. +</p> + +<p> +“No, he is down in the saloon reading.” +</p> + +<p> +As young Howard was somewhat prone to get emphatic when he began to talk upon +this subject, and as there was always a danger of other people overhearing what +he said, I drew him away to a more secluded part of the ship. On this +particular boat there was a wheelhouse aft unused, and generally filled up with +old steamer chairs. A narrow passage led around this at the curving stern, +seldom used by promenaders because of certain obstructions which, in the dark, +were apt to trip a person up. Chains or something went from this wheelhouse to +the sides of the ship, and, being covered up by boxes of plank, made this part +of the deck hard to travel on in the dark. As we went around this narrow +passage young Howard was the first to stop. He clutched my arm, but said +nothing. There in the dark was the faint outline of two persons, with their +backs towards us, leaning over the stern of the ship. The vibration at this +part of the boat, from the throbbing of the screw, made it impossible for them +to hear our approach. They doubtless thought they were completely in the dark; +but they were deluded in that idea, because the turmoil of the water left a +brilliant phosphorescent belt far in the rear of the ship, and against this +bright, faintly yellow luminous track their forms were distinctly outlined. It +needed no second glance to see that the two were Glendenning and Mrs. Tremain. +Her head rested on his shoulder, and his arm was around her waist. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us get back,” I said in a whisper; and, somewhat to my surprise, young +Howard turned back with me. I felt his hand trembling on my arm, but he said +nothing. Before we could say a word to each other a sadden and unexpected +complication arose. We met Captain Tremain, with a shawl on his arm, coming +towards us. +</p> + +<p> +“Good evening, captain,” I said; “have a turn on the deck with us?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, thanks,” he replied, “I am looking for my wife. I want to give her this +shawl to put over her shoulders. She is not accustomed to such chilly weather +as we are now running into, and I am afraid she may take cold.” +</p> + +<p> +All this time young Howard stood looking at him with a startled expression in +his eyes, and his lower jaw dropped. I was afraid Captain Tremain would see +him, and wonder what was the matter with the boy. I tried to bring him to +himself by stamping my heel—not too gently—on his toes, but he +turned his face in the semi-darkness toward me without changing its expression. +The one idea that had taken possession of my mind was that Captain Tremain must +not be allowed to go further aft than he was, and I tried by looks and nudges +to tell young Howard to go back and give her warning, but the boy seemed to be +completely dazed with the unexpected horror of the situation. To have this +calm, stern, unsuspecting man come suddenly upon what we had seen at the stern +of the boat was simply appalling to think of. He certainly would have killed +Glendenning where he stood, and very likely Mrs. Tremain as well. As Captain +Tremain essayed to pass us I collected my wits as well as I could, and +said— +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, by the way, captain, I wanted to speak to you about Mexico. Do +you—do you—think that it is a good—er—place for +investment?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Captain Tremain, pausing, “I am not so sure about that. You see, +their Government is so very unstable. The country itself is rich enough in +mineral wealth, if that is what you mean.” All the while Howard stood there +with his mouth agape, and I felt like shoving my fist into it. +</p> + +<p> +“Here, Howard,” I said, “I want to speak to Captain Tremain for a moment. Take +this shawl and find Mrs. Tremain, and give it to her.” Saying this, I took the +shawl from the captain’s arm and threw it at young Howard. He appeared then to +realise, for the first time, what was expected of him, and, giving me a +grateful look, disappeared toward the stern. +</p> + +<p> +“What I wanted more particularly to know about Mexico,” I said to the captain, +who made no objection to this move, “was whether there would be any +more—well, likely to have trouble—whether we would have trouble +with them in a military way, you know—that’s more in your line.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I think not,” said the captain. “Of course, on the boundary where we were, +there was always more or less trouble with border ruffians, sometimes on one +side of the line and sometimes on the other. There is a possibility always that +complications may arise from that sort of thing. Our officers might go over +into the Mexican territory and seize a desperado there, or they might come over +into ours. Still, I don’t think anything will happen to bring on a war such as +we had once or twice with Mexico.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment I was appalled to hear Glendenning’s voice ring out above the +noise of the vibration of the vessel. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean by that, you scoundrel,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Hallo,” exclaimed the captain, “there seems to be a row back there. I wonder +what it is?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, nothing serious, I imagine. Probably some steerage passengers have come on +the cabin deck. I heard them having a row with some one to-day on that score. +Let’s walk away from it.” +</p> + +<p> +The captain took my arm, and we strolled along the deck while he gave me a +great deal of valuable information about Mexico and the state of things along +the border line, which I regret to say I cannot remember a word of. The +impressions of a man who has been on the spot are always worth hearing, but my +ears were strained to catch a repetition of the angry cry I had heard, or the +continuation of the quarrel which it certainly seemed to be the beginning of. +As we came up the deck again we met young Howard with the shawl still on his +arm and Mrs. Tremain walking beside him. She was laughing in a somewhat +hysterical manner, and his face was as pale as ashes with a drawn look about +the corners of his lips, but the captain’s eyes were only on his wife. +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you put on the shawl, my dear?” he said to her affectionately. “The +shawl?” she answered. Then, seeing it on young Howard’s arm, she laughed, and +said, “He never offered it to me.” +</p> + +<p> +Young Howard made haste to place the shawl on her shoulders, which she arranged +around herself in a very coquettish and charming way. Then she took her +husband’s arm. +</p> + +<p> +“Good night,” she said to me; “good night, and thanks, Mr. Howard.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good night,” said the captain; “I will tell you more about that mine +to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +We watched them disappear towards the companion-way. I drew young Howard +towards the side of the boat. +</p> + +<p> +“What happened?” I asked eagerly. “Did you have trouble?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very nearly, I made a slip of the tongue. I called her Mrs. Glendenning.” +</p> + +<p> +“You called her <i>what</i>?” +</p> + +<p> +“I said, ‘Mrs. Glendenning, your husband is looking for you.’ I had come right +up behind them, and they hadn’t heard me, and of course both were very much +startled. Glendenning turned round and shouted, ‘What do you mean by that, you +scoundrel?’ and caught me by the throat. She instantly sprang between us, +pushing him toward the stern of the boat, and me against the wheelhouse. +“‘Hush, hush,’ she whispered; ‘you mean, Mr. Howard, that my husband is there, +do you not?’ +</p> + +<p> +“‘Yes,’ I answered, ‘and he will be here in a moment unless you come with me.’ +With that she said ‘Good night, Mr. Glendenning,’ and took my arm, and he, like +a thief, slunk away round the other side of the wheelhouse. I was very much +agitated. I suppose I acted like a fool when we met the captain, didn’t I?” +</p> + +<p> +“You did,” I answered; “go on.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Mrs. Tremain saw that, and she laughed at me, although I could see she +was rather disturbed herself.” +</p> + +<p> +Some time that night we touched at Queenstown, and next evening we were in +Liverpool. When the inevitable explosion came, I have no means of knowing, and +this, as I have said before, is a story without a conclusion. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Tremain the next day was as bright and jolly as ever, and the last time I +saw her, she was smiling over her shoulder at Glendenning, and not paying the +slightest attention to either her husband on whose arm she hung, or to young +Howard, who was hovering near. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap3">Share and Share Alike</a></h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“The quick must haste to vengeance taste,<br/> + For time is on his head;<br/> +But he can wait at the door of fate,<br/> +Though the stay be long and the hour be late—<br/> + The dead.” +</p> + +<p> +Melville Hardlock stood in the centre of the room with his feet wide apart and +his hands in his trousers pockets, a characteristic attitude of his. He gave a +quick glance at the door, and saw with relief that the key was in the lock, and +that the bolt prevented anybody coming in unexpectedly. Then he gazed once more +at the body of his friend, which lay in such a helpless-looking attitude upon +the floor. He looked at the body with a feeling of mild curiosity, and wondered +what there was about the lines of the figure on the floor that so certainly +betokened death rather than sleep, even though the face was turned away from +him. He thought, perhaps, it might be the hand with its back to the floor and +its palm towards the ceiling; there was a certain look of hopelessness about +that. He resolved to investigate the subject some time when he had leisure. +Then his thoughts turned towards the subject of murder. It was so easy to kill, +he felt no pride in having been able to accomplish that much. But it was not +everybody who could escape the consequences of his crime. It required an acute +brain to plan after events so that shrewd detectives would be baffled. There +was a complacent conceit about Melville Hardlock, which was as much a part of +him as his intense selfishness, and this conceit led him to believe that the +future path he had outlined for himself would not be followed by justice. +</p> + +<p> +With a sigh Melville suddenly seemed to realise that while there was no +necessity for undue haste, yet it was not wise to be too leisurely in some +things, so he took his hands from his pockets and drew to the middle of the +floor a large Saratoga trunk. He threw the heavy lid open, and in doing so +showed that the trunk was empty. Picking up the body of his friend, which he +was surprised to note was so heavy and troublesome to handle, he with some +difficulty doubled it up so that it slipped into the trunk. He piled on top of +it some old coats, vests, newspapers, and other miscellaneous articles until +the space above the body was filled. Then he pressed down the lid and locked +it, fastening the catches at each end. Two stout straps were now placed around +the trunk and firmly buckled after he had drawn them as tight as possible. +Finally he damped the gum side of a paper label, and when he had pasted it on +the end of the trunk, it showed the words in red letters, “S.S. +<i>Platonic</i>, cabin, wanted.” This done, Melville threw open the window to +allow the fumes of chloroform to dissipate themselves in the outside air. He +placed a closed, packed and labelled portmanteau beside the trunk, and a valise +beside that again, which, with a couple of handbags, made up his luggage. Then +he unlocked the door, threw back the bolt, and, having turned the key again +from the outside, strode down the thickly-carpeted stairs of the hotel into the +large pillared and marble-floored vestibule where the clerk’s office was. +Strolling up to the counter behind which stood the clerk of the hotel, he +shoved his key across to that functionary, who placed it in the pigeon-hole +marked by the number of his room. +</p> + +<p> +“Did my friend leave for the West last night, do you know?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” answered the clerk, “he paid his bill and left. Haven’t you seen him +since?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” replied Hardlock. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, he’ll be disappointed about that, because he told me he expected to see +you before he left, and would call up at your room later. I suppose he didn’t +have time. By the way, he said you were going back to England to-morrow. Is +that so?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I sail on the <i>Platonic</i>. I suppose I can have my luggage sent to +the steamer from here without further trouble?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, certainly,” answered the clerk; “how many pieces are there? It will be +fifty cents each.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well; just put that down in my bill with the rest of the expenses, and +let me have it to-night. I will settle when I come in. Five pieces of luggage +altogether.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very good. You’ll have breakfast to-morrow, I suppose?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, the boat does not leave till nine o’clock.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well; better call you about seven, Mr. Hardlock. Will you have a +carriage?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I shall walk down to the boat. You will be sure, of course, to have my +things there in time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no fear of that. They will be on the steamer by half-past eight.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you.” +</p> + +<p> +As Mr. Hardlock walked down to the boat next morning he thought he had done +rather a clever thing in sending his trunk in the ordinary way to the steamer. +“Most people,” he said to himself, “would have made the mistake of being too +careful about it. It goes along in the ordinary course of business. If anything +should go wrong it will seem incredible that a sane man would send such a +package in an ordinary express waggon to be dumped about, as they do dump +luggage about in New York.” +</p> + +<p> +He stood by the gangway on the steamer watching the trunks, valises, and +portmanteaus come on board. +</p> + +<p> +“Stop!” he cried to the man, “that is not to go down in the hold; I want it. +Don’t you see it’s marked ‘wanted?’” +</p> + +<p> +“It is very large, sir,” said the man; “it will fill up a state-room by +itself.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have the captain’s room,” was the answer. +</p> + +<p> +So the man flung the trunk down on the deck with a crash that made even the +cool Mr. Hardlock shudder. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you say you had the captain’s room, sir?” asked the steward standing near. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I am your bedroom steward,” was the answer; “I will see that the trunk is +put in all right.” +</p> + +<p> +The first day out was rainy but not rough; the second day was fair and the sea +smooth. The second night Hardlock remained in the smoking-room until the last +man had left. Then, when the lights were extinguished, he went out on the upper +deck, where his room was, and walked up and down smoking his cigar. There was +another man also walking the deck, and the red glow of his cigar, dim and +bright alternately, shone in the darkness like a glow-worm. +</p> + +<p> +Hardlock wished that he would turn in, whoever he was. Finally the man flung +his cigar overboard and went down the stairway. Hartlock had now the dark deck +to himself. He pushed open the door of his room and turned out the electric +light. It was only a few steps from his door to the rail of the vessel high +above the water. Dimly on the bridge he saw the shadowy figure of an officer +walking back and forth. Hardlock looked over the side at the phosphorescent +glitter of the water which made the black ocean seem blacker still. The sharp +ring of the bell betokening midnight made Melville start as if a hand had +touched him, and the quick beating of his heart took some moments to subside. +“I’ve been smoking too much to-day,” he said to himself. Then looking quickly +up and down the deck, he walked on tip toe to his room, took the trunk by its +stout leather handle and pulled it over the ledge in the doorway. There were +small wheels at the bottom of the trunk, but although they made the pulling of +it easy, they seemed to creak with appalling loudness. He realised the fearful +weight of the trunk as he lifted the end of it up on the rail. He balanced it +there for a moment, and glanced sharply around him, but there was nothing to +alarm him. In spite of his natural coolness, he felt a strange, haunting dread +of some undefinable disaster, a dread which had been completely absent from him +at the time he committed the murder. He shoved off the trunk before he had +quite intended to do so, and the next instant he nearly bit through his tongue +to suppress a groan of agony. There passed half a dozen moments of supreme pain +and fear before he realised what had happened. His wrist had caught in the +strap handle of the trunk, and his shoulder was dislocated. His right arm was +stretched taut and helpless, like a rope holding up the frightful and +ever-increasing weight that hung between him and the sea. His breast was +pressed against the rail and his left hand gripped the iron stanchion to keep +himself from going over. He felt that his feet were slipping, and he set his +teeth and gripped the iron with a grasp that was itself like iron. He hoped the +trunk would slip from his useless wrist, but it rested against the side of the +vessel, and the longer it hung the more it pressed the hard strap handle into +his nerveless flesh. He had realised from the first that he dare not cry for +help, and his breath came hard through his clenched teeth as the weight grew +heavier and heavier. Then, with his eyes strained by the fearful pressure, and +perhaps dazzled by the glittering phosphorescence running so swiftly by the +side of the steamer far below, he seemed to see from out the trunk something in +the form and semblance of his dead friend quivering like summer heat below him. +Sometimes it was the shimmering phosphorescence, then again it was the wraith +hovering over the trunk. Hardlock, in spite of his agony, wondered which it +really was; but he wondered no longer when it spoke to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Old Friend,” it said, “you remember our compact when we left England. It was +to be <i>share and share alike,</i> my boy—<i>share and share alike.</i> +I have had my share. Come!” +</p> + +<p> +Then on the still night air came the belated cry for help, but it was after the +foot had slipped and the hand had been wrenched from the iron stanchion. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap4">An International Row</a></h2> + +<p class="poem"> + “A simple child<br/> +That lightly draws its breath,<br/> +And feels its life in every limb,<br/> +What should it know of——” kicking up a row +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +(<i>Note</i>.—Only the last four words of the above poem are claimed as +original.)<br/> +“Then America declared war on England.”—<i>History of</i> 1812 +</p> + +<p> +Lady, not feeling particularly well, reclining in a steamer chair, covered up +with rags. Little girl beside her, who wants to know. Gentleman in an adjoining +steamer chair. The little girl begins to speak. +</p> + +<p> +“And do you have to pay to go in, mamma?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, dear.” +</p> + +<p> +“How much do you have to pay? As much as at a theatre?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you need not pay anything particular—no set sum, you know. You pay +just what you can afford.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then it’s like a collection at church, mamma?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, dear.” +</p> + +<p> +“And does the captain get the money, mamma?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, dear; the money goes to the poor orphans, I think.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where are the orphans, mamma?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know, dear, I think they are in Liverpool.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whose orphans are they, mamma?” +</p> + +<p> +“They are the orphans of sailors, dear.” +</p> + +<p> +“What kind of sailors, mamma?” +</p> + +<p> +“British sailors, darling.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aren’t there any sailors in America, mamma?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, dear, lots of them.” +</p> + +<p> +“And do they have any orphans?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, dear, I suppose there are orphans there too.” +</p> + +<p> +“And don’t they get any of the money, mamma?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sure I do not know, dear. By the way, Mr. Daveling, how is that? Do they +give any of the money to American orphans?” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe not, madam. Subscriptions at concerts given on board British +steamers are of course donated entirely to the Seamen’s Hospital or Orphanage +of Liverpool.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that doesn’t seem to be quite fair, does it? A great deal of the money +is subscribed by Americans.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madam, that is perfectly true.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should think that ten Americans cross on these lines for every one +Englishman.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sure I do not know, madam, what the proportion is. The Americans are +great travellers, so are the English too, for that matter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; but I saw in one of the papers that this year alone over a hundred +thousand persons had taken their passage from New York to England. It seems to +me, that as all of them contribute to the receipts of the concerts, some sort +of a division should be made.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I have no doubt if the case were presented to the captain, he would be +quite willing to have part of the proceeds at least go to some American +seamen’s charity.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think that would be only fair.” +</p> + +<p> +Two young ladies, arm in arm, approach, and ask Mrs. Pengo how she is feeling +to-day. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Pengo replies that she doesn’t suppose she will feel any better as long as +this rolling of the ship continues. +</p> + +<p> +They claim, standing there, endeavouring to keep as perpendicular as possible, +that the rolling is something simply awful. +</p> + +<p> +Then the lady says to them, “Do you know, girls, that all the money subscribed +at the concerts goes to England?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, no; I thought it went to some charity.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it <i>does</i> go to a charity. It goes to the Liverpool Seamen’s +Hospital.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, isn’t that all right?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it’s all right enough; but, as Sadie was just suggesting now, it doesn’t +seem quite fair, when there are orphans of sailors belonging to America, and as +long as such large sums are subscribed by Americans, that the money should not +be divided and part of it at least given to an American charity.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, that seems perfectly fair, doesn’t it, Mr. Daveling?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it is perfectly fair. I was just suggesting that perhaps if the state of +things was presented to the captain, he would doubtless give a portion at least +of the proceeds to an American Seamen’s Home—if such an institution +exists.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” remarked the other girl, “I propose we form a committee, and interview +the captain. I think that if Americans subscribe the bulk of the money, which +they certainly do, they should have a voice in the disposal of it.” +</p> + +<p> +This was agreed to on all hands, and so began one of the biggest rows that ever +occurred on board an Atlantic liner. Possibly, if the captain had had any tact, +and if he had not been so thoroughly impressed with his own tremendous +importance, what happened later on would not have happened. +</p> + +<p> +The lady in the steamer chair took little part in the matter, in fact it was +not at that time assumed to be of any importance whatever; but the two young +American girls were enthusiastic, and they spoke to several of the passengers +about it, both American and English. The English passengers all recognised the +justice of the proposed plan, so a committee of five young ladies, and one +young gentleman as spokesman, waited upon the captain. The young ladies at +first had asked the doctor of the ship to be the spokesman; but when the doctor +heard what the proposal was, he looked somewhat alarmed, and stroked his +moustache thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know about that,” he said; “it is a little unusual. The money has +always gone to the Liverpool Seamen’s Hospital, and—well, you see, we are +a conservative people. We do a thing in one way for a number of years, and then +keep on doing it because we have always done it in that way.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” burst out one of the young ladies, “that is no reason why an unjust +thing should be perpetuated. Merely because a wrong has been done is no reason +why it should be done again.” +</p> + +<p> +“True,” said the doctor, “true,” for he did not wish to fall out with the young +lady, who was very pretty; “but, you see, in England we think a great deal of +precedent.” +</p> + +<p> +And so the result of it all was that the doctor demurred at going to see the +captain in relation to the matter. He said it wouldn’t be the thing, as he was +an official, and that it would be better to get one of the passengers. +</p> + +<p> +I was not present at the interview, and of course know only what was told me by +those who were there. It seems that the captain was highly offended at being +approached on such a subject at all. A captain of an ocean liner, as I have +endeavoured to show, is a very great personage indeed. And sometimes I imagine +the passengers are not fully aware of this fact, or at least they do not show +it as plainly as they ought to. Anyhow, the committee thought the captain had +been exceedingly gruff with them, as well as just a trifle impolite. He told +them that the money from the concerts had always gone to the Liverpool Seamen’s +Hospital, and always would while he was commanding a ship. He seemed to infer +that the permission given them to hold a concert on board the ship was a very +great concession, and that people should be thankful for the privilege of +contributing to such a worthy object. +</p> + +<p> +So, beginning with the little girl who wanted to know, and ending with the +captain who commanded the ship, the conflagration was started. +</p> + +<p> +Such is British deference to authority that, as soon as the captain’s decision +was known, those who had hitherto shown an open mind on the subject, and even +those who had expressed themselves as favouring the dividing of the money, +claimed that the captain’s dictum had settled the matter. Then it was that +every passenger had to declare himself. “Those who are not with us,” said the +young women, “are against us.” The ship was almost immediately divided into two +camps. It was determined to form a committee of Americans to take the money +received from the second concert; for it was soon resolved to hold two +concerts, one for the American Seamen’s Orphans’ Home and the other for that at +Liverpool. +</p> + +<p> +One comical thing about the row was, that nobody on board knew whether an +American Seamen’s Orphans’ Home existed or not. When this problem was placed +before the committee of young people, they pooh-poohed the matter. They said it +didn’t make any difference at all; if there was no Seamen’s Hospital in +America, it was quite time there should be one; and so they proposed that the +money should be given to the future hospital, if it did not already exist. +</p> + +<p> +When everything was prepared for the second concert there came a bolt from the +blue. It was rumoured round the ship that the captain had refused his +permission for the second concert to be held. The American men, who had up to +date looked with a certain amused indifference on the efforts of the ladies, +now rallied and held a meeting in the smoking-room. Every one felt that a +crisis had come, and that the time to let loose the dogs of war—sea-dogs +in this instance—had arrived. A committee was appointed to wait upon the +captain next day. The following morning the excitement was at its highest +pitch. It was not safe for an American to be seen conversing with an +Englishman, or <i>vice versâ</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Rumour had it at first—in fact all sorts of wild rumours were flying +around the whole forenoon—that the captain refused to see the delegation +of gentlemen who had requested audience with him. This rumour, however, turned +out to be incorrect. He received the delegation in his room with one or two of +the officers standing beside him. The spokesman said— +</p> + +<p> +“Captain, we are informed that you have concluded not to grant permission to +the Americans to hold a concert in aid of the American Seamen’s Orphans’ Home. +We wish to know if this is true?” +</p> + +<p> +“You have been correctly informed,” replied the captain. +</p> + +<p> +“We are sorry to hear that,” answered the spokesman. “Perhaps you will not +object to tell us on what grounds you have refused your permission?” +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen,” said the captain, “I have received you in my room because you +requested an interview. I may say, however, that I am not in the habit of +giving reasons for anything I do, to the passengers who honour this ship with +their company.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” said the spokesman, endeavouring to keep calm, but succeeding only +indifferently, “it is but right that we should tell you that we regard such a +proceeding on your part as a high handed outrage; that we will appeal against +your decision to the owners of this steamship, and that, unless an apology is +tendered, we will never cross on this line again, and we will advise all our +compatriots never to patronise a line where such injustice is allowed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Might I ask you,” said the captain very suavely, “of what injustice you +complain?” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems to us,” said the spokesman, “that it is a very unjust thing to allow +one class of passengers to hold a concert, and to refuse permission to another +class to do the same thing.” +</p> + +<p> +“If that is all you complain of,” said the captain, “I quite agree with you. I +think that would be an exceedingly unjust proceeding.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is not that what you are about to do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not that I am aware of.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have prohibited the American concert?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly. But I have prohibited the English concert as well.” +</p> + +<p> +The American delegates looked rather blankly at each other, and then the +spokesman smiled. “Oh, well,” he said, “if you have prohibited both of them, I +don’t see that we have anything to grumble at.” +</p> + +<p> +“Neither do I,” said the captain. +</p> + +<p> +The delegation then withdrew; and the passengers had the unusual pleasure of +making one ocean voyage without having to attend the generally inevitable +amateur concert. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap5">A Ladies Man</a></h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“Jest w’en we guess we’ve covered the trail<br/> +So’s no one can’t foller, w’y then we fail<br/> +W’en we feel safe hid. Nemesis, the cuss,<br/> +Waltzes up with nary a warnin’ nor fuss.<br/> +Grins quiet like, and says, ‘How d’y do,<br/> +So glad we’ve met, I’m a-lookin’ fer you’” +</p> + +<p> +I do not wish to particularise any of the steamers on which the incidents given +in this book occurred, so the boat of which I now write I shall call <i>The +Tub</i>. This does not sound very flattering to the steamer, but I must say +<i>The Tub</i> was a comfortable old boat, as everybody will testify who has +ever taken a voyage in her. I know a very rich man who can well afford to take +the best room in the best steamer if he wants to, but his preference always is +for a slow boat like <i>The Tub</i>. He says that if you are not in a hurry, a +slow boat is preferable to one of the new fast liners, because you have more +individuality there, you get more attention, the officers are flattered by your +preference for their ship, and you are not merely one of a great mob of +passengers as in a crowded fast liner. The officers on a popular big and swift +boat are prone to be a trifle snobbish. This is especially the case on the +particular liner which for the moment stands at the top—a steamer that +has broken the record, and is considered the best boat in the Atlantic service +for the time being. If you get a word from the captain of such a boat you may +consider yourself a peculiarly honoured individual, and even the purser is apt +to answer you very shortly, and make you feel you are but a worm of the dust, +even though you have paid a very large price for your state-room. On <i>The +Tub</i> there was nothing of this. The officers were genial good fellows who +admitted their boat was not the fastest on the Atlantic, although at one time +she had been; but if <i>The Tub</i> never broke the record, on the other hand, +she never broke a shaft, and so things were evened up. She wallowed her way +across the Atlantic in a leisurely manner, and there was no feverish anxiety +among the passengers when they reached Queenstown, to find whether the rival +boat had got in ahead of us or not. +</p> + +<p> +Everybody on board <i>The Tub</i> knew that any vessel which started from New +York the same day would reach Queenstown before us. In fact, a good smart +sailing vessel, with a fair wind, might have made it lively for us in an ocean +race. <i>The Tub</i> was a broad slow boat, whose great speciality was freight, +and her very broadness, which kept her from being a racer, even if her engines +had had the power, made her particularly comfortable in a storm. She rolled but +little; and as the state-rooms were large and airy, every passenger on board +<i>The Tub</i> was sure of a reasonably pleasant voyage. +</p> + +<p> +It was always amusing to hear the reasons each of the passengers gave for being +on board <i>The Tub</i>. A fast and splendid liner of an opposition company +left New York the next day, and many of our passengers explained to me they had +come to New York with the intention of going by that boat, but they found all +the rooms taken, that is, all the desirable rooms. Of coarse they might have +had a room down on the third deck; but they were accustomed in travelling to +have the best rooms, and if they couldn’t be had, why it didn’t much matter +what was given them, so that was the reason they took passage on <i>The +Tub</i>. Others were on the boat because they remembered the time when she was +one of the fastest on the ocean, and they didn’t like changing ships. Others +again were particular friends of the captain, and he would have been annoyed if +they had taken any other steamer. Everybody had some particularly valid reason +for choosing <i>The Tub</i>, that is, every reason except economy, for it was +well known that <i>The Tub</i> was one of the cheapest boats crossing the +ocean. For my own part I crossed on her, because the purser was a particular +friend of mine, and knew how to amalgamate fluids and different solid +substances in a manner that produced a very palatable refreshment. He has +himself deserted <i>The Tub</i> long ago, and is now purser on one of the new +boats of the same line. +</p> + +<p> +When the gong rang for the first meal on hoard <i>The Tub</i> after leaving New +York, we filed down from the smoking-room to the great saloon to take our +places at the table. There were never enough passengers on board <i>The Tub</i> +to cause a great rush for places at the table; but on this particular occasion, +when we reached the foot of the stairway, two or three of us stood for a moment +both appalled and entranced. Sitting at the captain’s right hand was a somewhat +sour and unattractive elderly woman, who was talking to that smiling and urbane +official. Down the long table from where she sat, in the next fifteen seats +were fifteen young and pretty girls, most of them looking smilingly and +expectantly toward the stairway down which we were descending. The elderly +woman paused for a moment in her conversation with the captain, glanced along +the line of beauty, said sharply, ‘Girls!’ and instantly every face was turned +demurely toward the plate that was in front of it, and then we, who had +hesitated for a moment on the stairway, at once made a break, not for our seats +at the table, but for the purser. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all right, gentlemen,” said that charming man, before we could speak; +“it’s all right. I’ve arranged your places down the table on the opposite side. +You don’t need to say a word, and those of you who want to change from the +small tables to the large one, will find your names on the long table as well +as at the small tables, where you have already chosen your places. So, you see, +I knew just how you wished things arranged; but,” he continued, lowering his +voice, “boys, there’s a dragon in charge. I know her. She has crossed with us +two or three times. She wanted me to arrange it so that fifteen ladies should +sit opposite her fifteen girls; but, of course, we couldn’t do that, because +there aren’t fifteen other ladies on board, and there had to be one or two +ladies placed next the girls at the foot of the table, so that no girl should +have a young man sitting beside her. I have done the best I could, gentlemen, +and, if you want the seats rearranged, I think we can manage it for you. +Individual preferences may crop up, you know.” And the purser smiled gently, +for he had crossed the ocean very, very often. +</p> + +<p> +We all took our places, sternly scrutinised by the lady, whom the purser had +flatteringly termed the “dragon.” She evidently didn’t think very much of us as +a crowd, and I am sure in my own heart I cannot blame her. We were principally +students going over to German colleges on the cheap, some commercial +travellers, and a crowd generally who could not afford to take a better boat, +although we had all just missed the fast liner that had left a few days before, +or had for some reason not succeeded in securing a berth on the fast boat, +which was to leave the day after. +</p> + +<p> +If any of the fifteen young ladies were aware of our presence, they did not +show it by glancing toward us. They seemed to confine their conversation to +whispers among themselves, and now and then a little suppressed giggle arose +from one part of the line or the other, upon which the “dragon” looked along +the row, and said severely, “Girls!” whereupon everything was quiet again, +although some independent young lady generally broke the silence by another +giggle just at the time the stillness was becoming most impressive. +</p> + +<p> +After dinner, in the smoking-room, there was a great deal of discussion about +the fifteen pretty girls and about the “dragon.” As the officers on board +<i>The Tub</i> were gentlemen whom an ordinary person might speak to, a +delegation of one was deputed to go to the purser’s room and find out all that +could be learned in relation to the young and lovely passengers. +</p> + +<p> +The purser said that the dragon’s name was Mrs. Scrivener-Yapling, with a +hyphen. The hyphen was a very important part of the name, and Mrs. +Scrivener-Yapling always insisted upon it. Any one who ignored that hyphen +speedily fell from the good graces of Mrs. Scrivener-Yapling. I regret to say, +however, in spite of the hyphen, the lady was very generally known as the +“dragon” during that voyage. The purser told us further, that Mrs. +Scrivener-Yapling was in the habit of coming over once a year with a party of +girls whom she trotted around Europe. The idea was that they learnt a great +deal of geography, a good deal of French and German, and received in a general +way a polish which Europe is supposed to give. +</p> + +<p> +The circular which Mrs. Scrivener-Yapling issued was shown to me once by one of +the girls, and it represented that all travelling was first-class, that nothing +but the very best accommodations on steamers and in hotels were provided, and +on account of Mrs. S. Y.’s intimate knowledge of Europe, and the different +languages spoken there, she managed the excursion in a way which any one else +would find impossible to emulate, and the advantages accruing from such a trip +could not be obtained in any other manner without a very much larger +expenditure of money. The girls had the advantage of motherly care during all +the time they were abroad, and as the party was strictly limited in number, and +the greatest care taken to select members only from the very best families in +America, Mrs. Scrivener-Yapling was certain that all her patrons would realise +that this was an opportunity of a lifetime, etc., etc. +</p> + +<p> +Even if <i>The Tub</i> were not the finest boat on the Atlantic, she certainly +belonged to one of the best lines, and as the circular mentioned the line and +not the particular vessel on which the excursion was to go, the whole thing had +a very high-class appearance. +</p> + +<p> +The first morning out, shortly after, breakfast, the “dragon” and her girls +appeared on deck. The girls walked two and two together, and kept their eyes +pretty much on the planks beneath them. The fifteenth girl walked with the +“dragon,” and thus the eight pairs paced slowly up and down the deck under the +“dragon’s” eye. When this morning promenade was over the young ladies were +marshalled into the ladies’ saloon, where no masculine foot was allowed to +tread. Shortly before lunch an indignation meeting was held in the +smoking-room. Stewart Montague, a commercial traveller from Milwaukee, said +that he had crossed the ocean many times, but had never seen such a state of +things before. This young ladies’ seminary business (he alluded to the two and +two walk along the deck) ought not to be permitted on any well regulated ship. +Here were a number of young ladies, ranging in age from eighteen upwards, and +there lay ahead of us a long and possibly dreary voyage, yet the “dragon” +evidently expected that not one of the young ladies was to be allowed to speak +to one of the young gentlemen on board, much less walk the deck with him. Now, +for his part, said Stewart Montague, he was going to take off his hat the next +morning to the young lady who sat opposite him at the dinner-table and boldly +ask her to walk the deck with him. If the “dragon” interfered, he proposed that +we all mutiny, seize the vessel, put the captain in irons, imprison the +“dragon” in the hold, and then take to pirating on the high seas. One of the +others pointed out to him an objection to this plan, claiming that <i>The +Tub</i> could not overtake anything but a sailing-vessel, while even that was +doubtful. Montague explained that the mutiny was only to be resorted to as a +last desperate chance. He believed the officers of the boat would give us every +assistance possible, and so it was only in case of everything else failing that +we should seize the ship. +</p> + +<p> +In a moment of temporary aberration I suggested that the “dragon” might not be, +after all, such an objectionable person as she appeared, and that perhaps she +could be won over by kindness. Instantly a motion was put, and carried +unanimously, appointing me a committee to try the effect of kindness on the +“dragon.” It was further resolved that the meeting should be adjourned, and I +should report progress at the next conclave. +</p> + +<p> +I respectfully declined this mission. I said it was none of my affair. I didn’t +wish to talk to any of the fifteen girls, or even walk the deck with them. I +was perfectly satisfied as I was. I saw no reason why I should sacrifice myself +for the good of others. I suggested that the name of Stewart Montague be +substituted for mine, and that he should face the “dragon” and report progress. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Montague said it had been my suggestion, not his, that the “dragon” might +be overcome by kindness. He did not believe she could, but he was quite willing +to suspend hostilities until my plan had been tried and the result reported to +the meeting. It was only when they brought in a motion to expel me from the +smoking-room that I succumbed to the pressure. The voyage was just beginning, +and what is a voyage to a smoker who dare not set foot in the smoking-room? +</p> + +<p> +I do not care to dwell on the painful interview I had with the “dragon.” I put +my foot in it at the very first by pretending that I thought she came from New +York, whereas she had really come from Boston. To take a New York person for a +Bostonian is flattery, but to reverse the order of things, especially with a +woman of the uncertain temper of Mrs. Scrivener-Yapling, was really a deadly +insult, and I fear this helped to shipwreck my mission, although I presume it +would have been shipwrecked in any case. Mrs. Scrivener-Yapling gave me to +understand that if there was one thing more than another she excelled in it was +the reading of character. She knew at a glance whether a man could be trusted +or not; most men were not, I gathered from her conversation. It seems she had +taken a great many voyages across the Atlantic, and never in the whole course +of her experience had she seen such an objectionable body of young men as on +this present occasion. She accused me of being a married man, and I surmised +that there were other iniquities of which she strongly suspected me. +</p> + +<p> +The mission was not a success, and I reported at the adjourned meeting +accordingly. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Stewart Montague gave it as his opinion that the mission was hopeless from +the first, and in this I quite agreed with him. He said he would try his plan +at dinner, but what it was he refused to state. We asked if he would report on +the success or failure, and he answered that we would all see whether it was a +success or failure for ourselves. So there was a good deal of interest centring +around the meal, an interest not altogether called forth by the pangs of +hunger. +</p> + +<p> +Dinner had hardly commenced when Mr. Stewart Montague leaned over the table and +said, in quite an audible voice, to the young lady opposite him, “I understand +you have never been over the ocean before?” +</p> + +<p> +The young lady looked just a trifle frightened, blushed very prettily, and +answered in a low voice that she had not. +</p> + +<p> +Then he said, “I envy you the first impressions you will have of Europe. It is +a charming country. Where do you go after leaving England?” +</p> + +<p> +“We are going across to Paris first,” she replied, still in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +Most of us, however, were looking at the “dragon.” That lady sat bolt upright +in her chair as if she could not believe her ears. Then she said, in an acid +voice, “Miss Fleming.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Mrs. Scrivener-Yapling,” answered that young lady. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you oblige me by coming here for a moment?” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Fleming slowly revolved in her circular chair, then rose and walked up to +the head of the table. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Strong,” said the “dragon” calmly, to the young lady who sat beside her, +“will you oblige me by taking Miss Fleming’s place at the centre of the table?” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Strong rose and took Miss Fleming’s place. +</p> + +<p> +“Sit down beside me, please?” said the “dragon” to Miss Fleming; and that +unfortunate young woman, now as red as a rose, sat down beside the “dragon.” +</p> + +<p> +Stewart Montague bit his lip. The rest of us said nothing, and appeared not to +notice what had occurred. Conversation went on among ourselves. The incident +seemed ended; but, when the fish was brought, and placed before Miss Fleming, +she did not touch it. Her eyes were still upon the table. Then, apparently +unable to struggle any longer with her emotions, she rose gracefully, and, +bowing to the captain, said, “Excuse me, please.” She walked down the long +saloon with a firm step, and disappeared. The “dragon” tried to resume +conversation with the captain as if nothing had happened; but that official +answered only in monosyllables, and a gloom seemed to have settled down upon +the dinner party. +</p> + +<p> +Very soon the captain rose and excused himself. There was something to attend +to on deck, he said, and he left us. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as we had reassembled in the smoking-room, and the steward had brought +in our cups of black coffee, Stewart Montague arose and said, “Gentlemen, I +know just what you are going to say to me. It <i>was</i> brutal. Of course I +didn’t think the ‘dragon’ would do such a thing. My plan was a complete +failure. I expected that conversation would take place across the table all +along the line, if I broke the ice.” +</p> + +<p> +Whatever opinions were held, none found expression, and that evening in the +smoking-room was as gloomy as the hour at the dinner-table. +</p> + +<p> +Towards the shank of the evening a gentleman, who had never been in the +smoking-room before, entered very quietly. We recognised him as the man who sat +to the left of the captain opposite the “dragon.” He was a man of middle age +and of somewhat severe aspect. He spoke with deliberation when he did speak, +and evidently, weighed his words. All we knew of him was that the chair beside +his at meal-times had been empty since the voyage began, and it was said that +his wife took her meals in her state-room. She had appeared once on deck with +him, very closely veiled, and hung upon his arm in a way that showed she was +not standing the voyage very well, pleasant as it had been. +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen,” began the man suavely, “I would like to say a few words to you if +I were certain that my remarks would be taken in the spirit in which they are +given, and that you would not think me intrusive or impertinent.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go ahead,” said Montague, gloomily, who evidently felt a premonition of coming +trouble. +</p> + +<p> +The serious individual waited until the steward had left the room, then he +closed the door. “Gentlemen,” he continued, “I will not recur to the painful +incident which happened at the dinner-table to-night further than by asking +you, as honourable men, to think of Mrs. Scrivener-Yapling’s position of great +responsibility. She stands in the place of a mother to a number of young ladies +who, for the first time in their lives, have left their homes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lord pity them,” said somebody, who was sitting in the corner. +</p> + +<p> +The gentleman paid no attention to the remark. +</p> + +<p> +“Now what I wish to ask of you is that you will not make Mrs. +Scrivener-Yapling’s position any harder by futile endeavours to form the +acquaintance of the young ladies.” +</p> + +<p> +At this point Stewart Montague broke out. “Who the devil are you, sir, and who +gave you the right to interfere?” +</p> + +<p> +“As to who I am,” said the gentleman, quietly, “my name is Kensington, +and—” +</p> + +<p> +“West or South?” asked the man in the corner. +</p> + +<p> +At this there was a titter of laughter. +</p> + +<p> +“My name is Kensington,” repeated the gentleman, “and I have been asked by Mrs. +Scrivener-Yapling to interfere, which I do very reluctantly. As I said at the +beginning, I hope you will not think my interference is impertinent. I only do +so at the earnest request of the lady I have mentioned, because I am a family +man myself, and I understand and sympathise with the lady in the responsibility +which she has assumed.” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems to me,” said the man in the corner, “that if the ‘dragon’ has assumed +responsibilities and they have not been thrust upon her, which I understand +they have not, then she must take the responsibility of the responsibilities +which she has assumed. Do I make myself clear?” +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen,” said Mr. Kensington, “it is very painful for me to speak with you +upon this subject. I feel that what I have so clumsily expressed may not be +correctly understood; but I appeal to your honour as gentlemen, and I am sure I +will not appeal in vain when I ask you not to make further effort towards the +acquaintance of the young ladies, because all that you can succeed in doing +will be to render their voyage unpleasant to themselves, and interrupt, if not +seriously endanger, the good feeling which I understand has always existed +between Mrs. Scrivener-Yapling and her <i>protégées</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” said the man in the corner. “Have a drink, Mr. Kensington?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, I never drink,” answered Mr. Kensington. +</p> + +<p> +“Have a smoke, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not smoke either, thank you all the same for your offer. I hope, +gentlemen, you will forgive my intrusion on you this evening. Good night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Impudent puppy,” said Stewart Montague, as he closed the door behind him. +</p> + +<p> +But in this we did not agree with him, not even the man in the corner. +</p> + +<p> +“He is perfectly right,” said that individual, “and I believe that we ought to +be ashamed of ourselves. It will only make trouble, and I for one am going to +give up the hunt.” +</p> + +<p> +So, from that time forward, the smoking-room collectively made no effort +towards the acquaintance of the young ladies. The ladies’ seminary walk, as it +was called, took place every morning punctually, and sometimes Mr. Kensington +accompanied the walkers. Nevertheless, individual friendships, in spite of +everything that either Mr. Kensington or the “dragon” could do, sprang up +between some of the young men and some of the girls, but the “dragon” had an +invaluable ally in Mr. Kensington. The moment any of the young ladies began +walking with any of the young gentlemen on deck, or the moment they seated +themselves in steamer chairs together, the urbane, always polite Mr. Kensington +appeared on the scene and said, “Miss So-and-So, Mrs. Scrivener-Yapling would +like to speak with you.” +</p> + +<p> +Then the young lady would go with Mr. Kensington, while the young gentleman was +apt to use strong language and gnash his teeth. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Kensington seemed lynx-eyed. There was no escaping him. Many in the +smoking-room no doubt would have liked to have picked a flaw in his character +if they could. One even spoke of the old chestnut about a man who had no small +vices being certain to have some very large ones; but even the speakers +themselves did not believe this, and any one could see at a glance that Mr. +Kensington was a man of sterling character. Some hinted that his wife was the +victim of his cruelty, and kept her state-room only because she knew that he +was so fond of the “dragon’s” company, and possibly that of some of the young +ladies as well. But this grotesque sentiment did not pass current even in the +smoking-room. Nevertheless, although he was evidently so good a man, he was +certainly the most unpopular individual on board <i>The Tub</i>. The hatred +that Stewart Montague felt for him ever since that episode in the smoking-room +was almost grotesque. +</p> + +<p> +Montague had somehow managed to get a contrite note of apology and distress to +Miss Fleming, and several times the alert Mr. Kensington had caught them +together, and asked Miss Fleming with the utmost respect to come down and see +Mrs. Scrivener-Yapling. +</p> + +<p> +All in all the “dragon” did not have a very easy time of it. She fussed around +like any other old hen who had in charge a brood of ducks. +</p> + +<p> +Once I thought there was going to be a row between Montague and Kensington. He +met that gentleman in a secluded part of the deck, and, going up to him, +said— +</p> + +<p> +“You old wife deserter, why can’t you attend to your own affairs?” +</p> + +<p> +Kensington turned deadly pale at this insult, and his fists clinched— +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” he said huskily. +</p> + +<p> +“I mean what I say. Why don’t you take your own wife walking on the deck, and +leave the young ladies alone. It’s none of your business with whom they walk.” +</p> + +<p> +Kensington seemed about to reply; but he thought better of it, turned on his +heel, and left Montague standing there. +</p> + +<p> +The old <i>Tub</i> worried her way across the ocean, and reached the bar at +Liverpool just in time to be too late to cross it that night. Word was passed +along that a tender would come out from Liverpool for us, which was not a very +cheering prospect, as we would have two hours’ sail at least in what was +practically an open boat. +</p> + +<p> +Finally the tender came alongside, and the baggage was dumped down upon it. All +of us gathered together ready to leave <i>The Tub</i>. Mr. Kensington, with his +closely-veiled wife hanging on his arm, was receiving the thanks and +congratulations of the “dragon.” The fifteen girls were all around her. Before +any one started down the sloping gangway plank, however, two policemen, +accompanied by a woman, hurried up on board <i>The Tub</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, madam,” said the policeman, “is he here?” +</p> + +<p> +We saw that trouble was coming, and everybody looked at everybody else. +</p> + +<p> +“Is he here?” cried the woman excitedly; “there he stands, the villain. Oh, you +villain, you scoundrel, you <i>mean</i> rascal, to leave me, as you thought, +penniless in New York, and desert your own wife and family for that—that +creature!” We all looked at Kensington, and his face was greenish-pale. The +heavily veiled woman shrunk behind him and the policeman tried to make the true +wife keep quiet. +</p> + +<p> +“Is your name Braughton?” +</p> + +<p> +Kensington did not answer. His eyes were riveted on his wife. “In the name of +God,” he cried aghast, “how did <i>you</i> come here?” +</p> + +<p> +“How did I come here,” she shrieked. “Oh, you thought you slipped away nicely, +didn’t you? But you forgot that the <i>Clipper</i> left the next day, and I’ve +been here two days waiting for you. You little thought when you deserted me and +my children in New York that we would be here to confront you at Liverpool.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come.” said the policeman, “there’s no use of this. I am afraid you will +have to come with us, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +They took him in charge, and the irate wife then turned like a tigress on the +heavily veiled woman who was with him. +</p> + +<p> +“No wonder you are ashamed to show your face,” she cried. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come,” said the policeman, “come, come.” And they managed to induce her +to say no more. +</p> + +<p> +“Madam,” said young Montague to the speechless ‘dragon,’ “I want to ask your +permission to allow me to carry Miss Fleming’s hand- baggage ashore.” +</p> + +<p> +“How dare you speak to me, sir?” she answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Because,” he said, in a low voice, “I thought perhaps you wouldn’t like an +account of this affair to go to the Boston newspapers. I’m a newspaper man, you +see,” he added, with unblushing mendacity. Then, turning to Miss Fleming, he +said, “Won’t you allow me to carry this for you?” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Fleming surrendered the natty little handbag she had with her, and smiled. +The “dragon” made no objection. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap6">A Society For The Reformation Of Poker Players.</a></h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“O Unseen Hand that ever makes and deals us,<br/> + And plays our game!<br/> +That now obscures and then to light reveals us,<br/> + Serves blanks of fame<br/> +How vain our shuffling, bluff and weak pretending!<br/> +’Tis Thou alone can name the final ending” +</p> + +<p> +The seductive game of poker is one that I do not understand. I do not care to +understand it, because it cannot be played without the putting up of a good +deal of the coin of the realm, and although I have nothing to say against +betting, my own theory of conduct in the matter is this, that I want no man’s +money which I do not earn, and I do not want any man to get my money unless he +earns it. So it happens, in the matter of cards, I content myself with euchre +and other games which do not require the wagering of money. +</p> + +<p> +On board the Atlantic steamers there is always more or less gambling. I have +heard it said that men make trips to and fro merely for the purpose of fleecing +their fellow-passengers; but, except in one instance, I never had any +experience with this sort of thing. +</p> + +<p> +Our little society for the reformation of poker players, or to speak more +correctly, for the reformation of one particular poker player, was formed one +bright starlight night, latitude such a number, and longitude something else, +as four of us sat on a seat at the extreme rear end of the great steamer. We +four, with one other, sat at a small table in the saloon. One of the small +tables on a Transatlantic steamer is very pleasant if you have a nice crowd +with you. A seat at a small table compares with a seat at the large table as +living in a village compares with living in a city. You have some individuality +at the short table; you are merely one of a crowd at the long table. Our small +table was not quite full. I had the honour of sitting at the head of it, and on +each side of me were two young fellows, making five altogether. We all rather +prided ourselves on the fact that there were no ladies at our little table. +</p> + +<p> +The young Englishman who sat at my right hand at the corner of the table was +going out to America to learn farming. I could, myself, have taught him a good +deal about it, but I refrained from throwing cold water on his enthusiastic +ideas about American agriculture. His notion was that it was an occupation +mostly made up of hunting and fishing, and having a good time generally. The +profits, he thought, were large and easily acquired. He had guns with him, and +beautiful fishing-rods, and things of that sort. He even had a vague idea that +he might be able to introduce fox-hunting in the rural district to which he was +going. He understood, and regretted the fact, that we in the United States were +rather behind-hand in the matter of fox-hunting. He had a good deal of money +with him, I understood, and he had already paid a hundred pounds to a firm in +England that had agreed to place him on a farm in America. Of course, now that +the money had been paid, there was no use in telling the young man he had been +a fool. He would find that out soon enough when he got to America. Henry Storm +was his name, and a milder mannered man with a more unsuitable name could +hardly be found. The first two or three days out he was the life of our party. +We all liked him, in fact, nobody could help liking him; but, as the voyage +progressed, he grew more and more melancholy, and, what was really serious, +took little food, which is not natural in an Englishman. I thought somebody had +been telling him what a fool he had been to pay away his hundred pounds before +leaving England, but young Smith of Rochester, who sat at my left, told me what +the trouble was one day as we walked the deck. “Do you know,” he began, “that +Henry Storm is being robbed?” +</p> + +<p> +“Being robbed?” I answered; “you mean he has been robbed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, has been, and is being, too. The thing is going on yet. He is playing +altogether too much poker in the smoking-room, and has lost a pile of +money—more, I imagine, than he can well afford.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what’s the trouble with him, is it? Well, he ought to know better than +to play for bigger stakes than he can afford to lose.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it’s easy to say that; but he’s in the hands of a swindler, of a +professional gambler. You see that man?” He lowered his voice as he spoke, and +I looked in the direction of his glance. By this time we knew, in a way, +everybody on board the ship. The particular man Smith pointed out was a fellow +I had noticed a good deal, who was very quiet and gentlemanly, interfering with +nobody, and talking with few. I had spoken to him once, but he had answered +rather shortly, and, apparently to his relief, and certainly to my own, our +acquaintance ceased where it began. He had jet black beard and hair, both +rather closely clipped; and he wore a fore and aft cap, which never improves a +man’s appearance very much. +</p> + +<p> +“That man,” continued Smith, as he passed us, “was practically under arrest for +gambling on the steamer in which I came over. It seems that he is a regular +professional gambler, who does nothing but go across the ocean and back again, +fleecing young fellows like Storm.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does he cheat?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +“He doesn’t need to. He plays poker. An old hand, and a cool one, has no +occasion to cheat at that game to get a young one’s money away from him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then why doesn’t some one warn young Storm?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that’s just what I wanted to speak to you about. I think it ought to be +done. I think we should call a meeting of our table, somewhere out here in the +quiet, and have a talk over it, and make up our mind what is to be done. It’s a +delicate matter, you know, and I am afraid we are a little late as it is. I do +believe young Storm has lost nearly all his money to that fellow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t he be made to disgorge?” +</p> + +<p> +“How? The money has been won fairly enough, as that sort of thing goes. Other +fellows have played with them. It isn’t as if he had been caught +cheating—he hasn’t, and won’t be. He doesn’t cheat—he doesn’t need +to, as I said before. Now that gambler pretends he is a commercial traveller +from Buffalo. I know Buffalo down to the ground, so I took him aside yesterday +and said plumply to him, ‘What firm in Buffalo do you represent?’ He answered +shortly that his business was his own affair. I said, ‘Certainly it is, and you +are quite right in keeping it dark. When I was coming over to Europe, I saw a +man in your line of business who looked very much like you, practically put +under arrest by the purser for gambling. You were travelling for a St. Louis +house then.’” +</p> + +<p> +“What did he say to that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing; he just gave me one of those sly, sinister looks of his, turned on +his heel, and left me.” +</p> + +<p> +The result of this conversation was the inauguration of the Society for the +Reforming of a Poker Player. It was agreed between us that if young Storm had +lost all his money we would subscribe enough as a loan to take care of him +until he got a remittance from home. Of course we knew that any young fellow +who goes out to America to begin farming, does not, as a general rule, leave +people in England exceedingly well off, and probably this fact, more than any +other, accounted for the remorse visible on Storm’s countenance. We knew quite +well that the offering of money to him would be a very delicate matter, but it +was agreed that Smith should take this in hand if we saw the offer was +necessary. Then I, as the man who sat at the head of the table, was selected to +speak to young Storm, and, if possible, get him to abandon poker. I knew this +was a somewhat impudent piece of business on my part, and so I took that +evening to determine how best to perform the task set for me. I resolved to +walk the deck with him in the morning, and have a frank talk over the matter. +</p> + +<p> +When the morning came, I took young Storm’s arm and walked two or three turns +up and down the deck, but all the while I could not get up courage enough to +speak with him in relation to gambling. When he left me, I again thought over +the matter. I concluded to go into the smoking-room myself, sit down beside +him, see him lose some money and use that fact as a test for my coming +discourse on the evils of gambling. After luncheon I strolled into the +smoking-room, and there sat this dark-faced man with his half-closed eyes +opposite young Storm, while two others made up the four-handed game of poker. +</p> + +<p> +Storm’s face was very pale, and his lips seemed dry, for he moistened them +every now and then as the game went on. He was sitting on the sofa, and I sat +down beside him, paying no heed to the dark gambler’s look of annoyance. +However, the alleged Buffalo man said nothing, for he was not a person who did +much talking. Storm paid no attention to me as I sat down beside him. The +gambler had just dealt. It was very interesting to see the way he looked at his +hand. He allowed merely the edges of the cards to show over each other, and +then closed up his hand and seemed to know just what he had. When young Storm +looked at his hand he gave a sort of gasp, and for the first time cast his eyes +upon me. I had seen his hand, but did not know whether it was a good one or +not. I imagined it was not very good, because all the cards were of a low +denomination. Threes or fours I think, but four of the cards had a like number +of spots. There was some money in the centre of the table. Storm pushed a +half-crown in front of him, and the next man did the same. The gambler put down +a half-sovereign, and the man at his left, after a moment’s hesitation, shoved +out an equal amount from the pile of gold in front of him. +</p> + +<p> +Young Storm pushed out a sovereign. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m out,” said the man whose next bet it was, throwing down his cards. +</p> + +<p> +The gambler raised it a sovereign, and the man at his left dropped out. It now +rested between Storm and the gambler. Storm increased the bet a sovereign. The +gambler then put on a five-pound note. +</p> + +<p> +Storm said to me huskily, “Have you any money?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” I answered him. +</p> + +<p> +“Lend me five pounds if you can.” +</p> + +<p> +Now, the object of my being there was to stop gambling, not to encourage it. I +was the president <i>pro tem</i>, of the Society for the Reformation of Poker +Players, yet I dived into my pocket, pulled out my purse under the table and +slipped a five-pound note into his hand. He put that on the table as if he had +just taken it from his own pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“I call you,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“What have you got?” asked the gambler. +</p> + +<p> +“Four fours,” said Storm, putting down his hand. +</p> + +<p> +The gambler closed up his and threw the cards over to the man who was to deal. +Storm paused a moment and then pulled towards him the money in the centre of +the table and handed me my five-pound note. +</p> + +<p> +When the cards were next dealt, Storm seemed to have rather an ordinary hand, +so apparently had all the rest, and there was not much money in the pile. But, +poor as Storm’s hand was, the rest appeared to be poorer, and he raked in the +cash. This went on for two or three deals, and finding that, as Storm was +winning all the time, although not heavily, I was not getting an object lesson +against gambling, I made a move to go. +</p> + +<p> +“Stay where you are,” whispered Storm to me, pinching my knee with his hand so +hard that I almost cried out. +</p> + +<p> +Then it came to the gambler’s turn to deal again. All the time he deftly +shuffled the cards he watched the players with that furtive glance of his from +out his half-shut eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Storm’s hand was a remarkable one, after he had drawn two cards, but I did not +know whether it had any special value or not. The other players drew three +cards each, and the gambler took one. +</p> + +<p> +“How much money have you got?” whispered Storm to me. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” I said, “perhaps a hundred pounds.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be prepared to lend me every penny of it,” he whispered. +</p> + +<p> +I said nothing; but I never knew the president of a society for the suppression +of gambling to be in such a predicament. +</p> + +<p> +Storm bet a sovereign. The player to his left threw down his hand. The gambler +pushed out two sovereigns. The other player went out. +</p> + +<p> +Storm said, “I see your bet, and raise you another sovereign.” The gambler, +without saying a word, shoved forward some more gold. +</p> + +<p> +“Get your money ready,” whispered Storm to I did not quite like his tone, but I +made allowance for the excitement under which he was evidently labouring. +</p> + +<p> +He threw on a five-pound note. The gambler put down another five-pound note, +and then, as if it were the slightest thing possible, put a ten-pound note on +top of that, which made the side players gasp. Storm had won sufficient to +cover the bet and raise it. After that I had to feed in to him five-pound +notes, keeping count of their number on my fingers as I did so. The first to +begin to hesitate about putting money forward was the gambler. He shot a glance +now and again from under his eyebrows at the young man opposite. Finally, when +my last five-pound note had been thrown on the pile, the gambler spoke for the +first time. +</p> + +<p> +“I call you,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Put down another five-pound note,” cried the young man. +</p> + +<p> +“I have called you,” said the gambler. +</p> + +<p> +Henry Storm half rose from his seat in his excitement. “Put down another +five-pound note, if you dare.” +</p> + +<p> +“That isn’t poker,” said the gambler. “I have called you. What have you got?” +</p> + +<p> +“Put down another five-pound note, and I’ll put a ten-pound note on top of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I say that isn’t poker. You have been called. What have you got?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll bet you twenty pounds against your five-pound note, if you dare put it +down.” +</p> + +<p> +By this time Storm was standing up, quivering with excitement, his cards +tightly clenched in his hand. The gambler sat opposite him calm and +imperturbable. +</p> + +<p> +“What have you got?” said Storm. +</p> + +<p> +“I called you,” said the gambler, “show your hand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; but when I called you, you asked me what I had, and I told you. What have +<i>you</i> got?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not afraid to show my hand,” said the gambler, and he put down on the +table four aces. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s the king of hearts,” said Storm, putting it down on the table. +“There’s the queen of hearts, there’s the knave of hearts, there’s the ten of +hearts. Now,” he cried, waving his other card in the air, “can you tell me what +this card is?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sure I don’t know,” answered the gambler, quietly, “probably the nine of +hearts.” +</p> + +<p> +“It <i>is</i> the nine of hearts,” shouted Storm, placing it down beside the +others. +</p> + +<p> +The gambler quietly picked up the cards, and handed them to the man who was to +deal. Storm’s hands were trembling with excitement as he pulled the pile of +bank notes and gold towards him. He counted out what I had given him, and +passed it to me under the table. The rest he thrust into his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” I said, “it is time to go. Don’t strain your luck.” +</p> + +<p> +“Another five pounds,” he whispered; “sit where you are.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nonsense,” I said, “another five pounds will certainly mean that you lose, +everything you have won. Come away, I want to talk with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Another five pounds, I have sworn it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, I shall not stay here any longer.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” he cried eagerly; “sit where you are, sit where you are.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a grim thin smile on the lips of the gambler as this whispered +conversation took place. +</p> + +<p> +When the next hand was dealt around and Storm looked at his cards, he gave +another gasp of delight. I thought that a poker player should not be so free +with his emotions; but of course I said nothing. When it came his time to bet, +he planked down a five-pound note on the table. The other two, as was usual, +put down their cards. They were evidently very timorous players. The gambler +hesitated for a second, then he put a ten-pound note on Storm’s five-pounds. +Storm at once saw him, and raised him ten. The gambler hesitated longer this +time, but at last he said, “I shall not bet. What have you got?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you call me?” asked Storm. “Put up your money if you do.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I do not call you.” +</p> + +<p> +Storm laughed and threw his cards face up on the table. “I have nothing,” he +said, “I have bluffed you for once.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is very often done,” answered the gambler, quietly, as Storm drew in his +pile of money, stuffing it again in his coat pocket. “Your deal, Storm.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir,” said the young man, rising up; “I’ll never touch a poker hand again. +I have got my own money back and five or ten pounds over. I know when I’ve had +enough.” +</p> + +<p> +Although it was Storm’s deal, the gambler had the pack of cards in his hand +idly shuffling them to and fro. +</p> + +<p> +“I have often heard,” he said slowly without raising his eyes, “that when one +fool sits down beside another fool at poker, the player has the luck of two +fools—but I never believed it before.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap7">The Man Who was Not on the Passenger List.</a></h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“The well-sworn Lie, franked to the world with all<br/> + The circumstance of proof,<br/> +Cringes abashed, and sneaks along the wall<br/> + At the first sight of Truth.” +</p> + +<p> +The <i>Gibrontus</i> of the Hot Cross Bun Line was at one time the best ship of +that justly celebrated fleet. All steamships have, of course, their turn at the +head of the fleet until a better boat is built, but the <i>Gibrontus</i> is +even now a reasonably fast and popular boat. An accident happened on board the +<i>Gibrontus</i> some years ago which was of small importance to the general +public, but of some moment to Richard Keeling—for it killed him. The poor +man got only a line or two in the papers when the steamer arrived at New York, +and then they spelled his name wrong. It had happened something like this: +Keeling was wandering around very late at night, when he should have been in +his bunk, and he stepped on a dark place that he thought was solid. As it +happened, there was nothing between him and the bottom of the hold but space. +They buried Keeling at sea, and the officers knew absolutely nothing about the +matter when inquisitive passengers, hearing rumours, questioned them. This +state of things very often exists both on sea and land, as far as officials are +concerned. Mrs. Keeling, who had been left in England while her husband went to +America to make his fortune, and tumbled down a hole instead, felt aggrieved at +the company. The company said that Keeling had no business to be nosing around +dark places on the deck at that time of night, and doubtless their contention +was just. Mrs. Keeling, on the other hand, held that a steamer had no right to +have such mantraps open at any time, night or day, without having them properly +guarded, and in that she was also probably correct. The company was very sorry, +of course, that the thing had occurred; but they refused to pay for Keeling +unless compelled to do so by the law of the land, and there matters stood. No +one can tell what the law of the land will do when it is put in motion, +although many people thought that if Mrs. Keeling had brought a suit against +the Hot Cross Bun Company she would have won it. But Mrs. Keeling was a poor +woman, and you have to put a penny in the slot when you want the figures of +justice to work, so the unfortunate creature signed something which the lawyer +of the company had written out, and accepted the few pounds which Keeling had +paid for Room 18 on the <i>Gibrontus</i>. It would seem that this ought to have +settled the matter, for the lawyer told Mrs. Keeling he thought the company +acted very generously in refunding the passage money; but it didn’t settle the +matter. Within a year from that time, the company voluntarily paid Mrs. Keeling +£2100 for her husband. Now that the occurrence is called to your mind, +you will perhaps remember the editorial one of the leading London dailies had +on the extraordinary circumstance, in which it was very ably shown that the old +saying about corporations having no souls to be condemned or bodies to be +kicked did not apply in these days of commercial honour and integrity. It was a +very touching editorial, and it caused tears to be shed on the Stock Exchange, +the members having had no idea, before reading it, that they were so noble and +generous. +</p> + +<p> +How, then, was it that the Hot Cross Bun Company did this commendable act when +their lawyer took such pains to clear them of all legal liability? The purser +of the <i>Gibrontus</i>, who is now old and superannuated, could probably tell +you if he liked. +</p> + +<p> +When the negotiations with Mrs. Keeling had been brought to a satisfactory +conclusion by the lawyer of the company, and when that gentleman was rubbing +his hands over his easy victory, the good ship <i>Gibrontus</i> was steaming +out of the Mersey on her way to New York. The stewards in the grand saloon were +busy getting things in order for dinner, when a wan and gaunt passenger spoke +to one of them. +</p> + +<p> +“Where have you placed me at table?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“What name, sir?” asked the steward. +</p> + +<p> +“Keeling.” +</p> + +<p> +The steward looked along the main tables, up one side and down the other, +reading the cards, but nowhere did he find the name he was in search of. Then +he looked at the small tables, but also without success. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you spell it, sir?” he asked the patient passenger. +</p> + +<p> +“K-double-e-l-i-n-g.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he looked up and down the four rows of names on the passenger list he held +in his hand, but finally shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t find your name on the passenger list,” he said. “I’ll speak to the +purser, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you would,” replied the passenger in a listless way, as if he had not +much interest in the matter. The passenger, whose name was not on the list, +waited until the steward returned. “Would you mind stepping into the purser’s +room for a moment, sir? I’ll show you the way, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +When the passenger was shown into the purser’s room that official said to him, +in the urbane manner of pursers— +</p> + +<p> +“Might I look at your ticket, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +The passenger pulled a long pocket-book from the inside of his coat, opened it, +and handed the purser the document it contained. The purser scrutinized it +sharply, and then referred to a list he had on the desk before him. +</p> + +<p> +“This is very strange,” he said at last. “I never knew such a thing to occur +before, although, of course, it is always possible. The people on shore have in +some unaccountable manner left your name out of my list. I am sorry you have +been put to any inconvenience, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“There has been no inconvenience so far,” said the passenger, “and I trust +there will be none. You find the ticket regular, I presume?” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite so—quite so,” replied the purser. Then, to the waiting steward, +“Give Mr. Keeling any place he prefers at the table which is not already taken. +You have Room 18.” +</p> + +<p> +“That was what I bought at Liverpool.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I see you have the room to yourself, and I hope you will find it +comfortable. Have you ever crossed with us before, sir? I seem to recollect +your face.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have never been in America.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! I see so many faces, of course, that I sometimes fancy I know a man when I +don’t. Well, I hope you will have a pleasant voyage, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you.” +</p> + +<p> +No. 18 was not a popular passenger. People seemed instinctively to shrink from +him, although it must be admitted that he made no advances. All went well until +the <i>Gibrontus</i> was about half-way over. One forenoon the chief officer +entered the captain’s room with a pale face, and, shutting the door after him, +said— +</p> + +<p> +“I am very sorry to have to report, sir, that one of the passengers has fallen +into the hold.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good heavens!” cried the captain. “Is he hurt?” +</p> + +<p> +“He is killed, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +The captain stared aghast at his subordinate. +</p> + +<p> +“How did it happen? I gave the strictest orders those places were on no account +to be left unguarded.” +</p> + +<p> +Although the company had held to Mrs. Keeling that the captain was not to +blame, their talk with that gentleman was of an entirely different tone. +</p> + +<p> +“That is the strange part of it, sir. The hatch has not been opened this +voyage, sir, and was securely bolted down.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nonsense! Nobody will believe such a story! Some one has been careless! Ask +the purser to come here, please.” +</p> + +<p> +When the purser saw the body, he recollected, and came as near fainting as a +purser can. +</p> + +<p> +They dropped Keeling overboard in the night, and the whole affair was managed +so quietly that nobody suspected anything, and, what is the most incredible +thing in this story, the New York papers did not have a word about it. What the +Liverpool office said about the matter nobody knows, but it must have stirred +up something like a breeze in that strictly business locality. It is likely +they pooh-poohed the whole affair, for, strange to say, when the purser tried +to corroborate the story with the dead man’s ticket the document was nowhere to +be found. +</p> + +<p> +The <i>Gibrontus</i> started out on her next voyage from Liverpool with all her +colours flying, but some of her officers had a vague feeling of unrest within +them which reminded them of the time they first sailed on the heaving seas. The +purser was seated in his room, busy, as pursers always are at the beginning of +a voyage, when there was a rap at the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in!” shouted the important official, and there entered unto him a +stranger, who said—“Are you the purser?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir. What can I do for you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have room No. 18.” +</p> + +<p> +“What!” cried the purser, with a gasp, almost jumping from his chair. Then he +looked at the robust man before him, and sank back with a sigh of relief. It +was not Keeling. +</p> + +<p> +“I have room No. 18,” continued the passenger, “and the arrangement I made with +your people in Liverpool was that I was to have the room to myself. I do a +great deal of shipping over your—” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my dear sir,” said the purser, after having looked rapidly over his list, +“you have No. 18 to yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“So I told the man who is unpacking his luggage there; but he showed me his +ticket, and it was issued before mine. I can’t quite understand why your people +should—” +</p> + +<p> +“What kind of a looking man is he?” +</p> + +<p> +“A thin, unhealthy, cadaverous man, who doesn’t look as if he would last till +the voyage ends. I don’t want <i>him</i> for a room mate, if I have to have +one. I think you ought—” +</p> + +<p> +“I will, sir. I will make it all right. I suppose, if it should happen that a +mistake has been made, and he has the prior claim to the room, you would not +mind taking No. 24—it is a larger and better room.” +</p> + +<p> +“That will suit me exactly.” +</p> + +<p> +So the purser locked his door and went down to No. 18. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” he said to its occupant. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” answered Mr. Keeling, looking up at him with his cold and fishy eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re here again, are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m here again, and I <i>will</i> be here again. And again and again, and +again and again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, what the—” Then the purser hesitated a moment, and thought perhaps +he had better not swear, with that icy, clammy gaze fixed upon him. “What +object have you in all this?” +</p> + +<p> +“Object? The very simple one of making your company live up to its contract. +From Liverpool to New York, my ticket reads. I paid for being landed in the +United States, not for being dumped overboard in mid-ocean. Do you think you +can take me over? You have had two tries at it and have not succeeded. Yours is +a big and powerful company too.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you know we can’t do it, then why do you—?” The purser hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“Pester you with my presence?” suggested Mr. Keeling. “Because I want you to do +justice. Two thousand pounds is the price, and I will raise it one hundred +pounds every trip.” This time the New York papers got hold of the incident, but +not of its peculiar features. They spoke of the extraordinary carelessness of +the officers in allowing practically the same accident to occur twice on the +same boat. When the <i>Gibrontus</i> reached Liverpool all the officers, from +the captain down, sent in their resignations. Most of the sailors did not take +the trouble to resign, but cut for it. The managing director was annoyed at the +newspaper comments, but laughed at the rest of the story. He was invited to +come over and interview Keeling for his own satisfaction, most of the officers +promising to remain on the ship if he did so. He took Room 18 himself. What +happened I do not know, for the purser refused to sail again on the +<i>Gibrontus</i>, and was given another ship. +</p> + +<p> +But this much is certain. When the managing director got back, the company +generously paid Mrs. Keeling £2100. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap8">The Terrible Experience of Plodkins</a></h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“Which—life or death? ’Tis a gambler’s chance!<br/> +Yet, unconcerned, we spin and dance,<br/> +On the brittle thread of circumstance.” +</p> + +<p> +I understand that Plodkins is in the habit of referring sceptical listeners to +me, and telling them that I will substantiate every word of his story. Now this +is hardly fair of Plodkins. I can certainly corroborate part of what he says, +and I can bear witness to the condition in which I found him after his ordeal +was over. So I have thought it best, in order to set myself right with the +public, to put down exactly what occurred. If I were asked whether or not I +believe Plodkins’ story myself, I would have to answer that sometimes I believe +it, and sometimes I do not. Of course Plodkins will be offended when he reads +this, but there are other things that I have to say about him which will +perhaps enrage him still more; still they are the truth. For instance, Plodkins +can hardly deny, and yet probably he will deny, that he was one of the most +talented drinkers in America. I venture to say that every time he set foot in +Liverpool coming East, or in New York going West, he was just on the verge of +delirium tremens, because, being necessarily idle during the voyage, he did +little else but drink and smoke. I never knew a man who could take so much +liquor and show such small results. The fact was, that in the morning Plodkins +was never at his best, because he was nearer sober then than at any other part +of the day; but, after dinner, a more entertaining, genial, generous, +kind-hearted man than Hiram Plodkins could not be found anywhere. +</p> + +<p> +I want to speak of Plodkins’ story with the calm, dispassionate manner of a +judge, rather than with the partisanship of a favourable witness; and although +my allusion to Plodkins’ habits of intoxication may seem to him defamatory in +character, and unnecessary, yet I mention them only to show that something +terrible must have occurred in the bath-room to make him stop short. The +extraordinary thing is, from that day to this Plodkins has not touched a drop +of intoxicating liquor, which fact in itself strikes me as more wonderful than +the story he tells. +</p> + +<p> +Plodkins was a frequent crosser on the Atlantic steamers. He was connected with +commercial houses on both sides of the ocean; selling in America for an English +house, and buying in England for an American establishment. I presume it was +his experiences in selling goods that led to his terrible habits of drinking. I +understood from him that out West, if you are selling goods you have to do a +great deal of treating, and every time you treat another man to a glass of +wine, or a whiskey cocktail, you have, of course, to drink with him. But this +has nothing to do with Plodkins’ story. +</p> + +<p> +On an Atlantic liner, when there is a large list of passengers, especially of +English passengers, it is difficult to get a convenient hour in the morning at +which to take a bath. This being the case, the purser usually takes down the +names of applicants and assigns each a particular hour. Your hour may be, say +seven o’clock in the morning. The next man comes on at half-past seven, and the +third man at eight, and so on. The bedroom steward raps at your door when the +proper time arrives, and informs you that the bath is ready. You wrap a +dressing-gown or a cloak around you, and go along the silent corridors to the +bath-room, coming back, generally before your half hour is up, like a giant +refreshed. +</p> + +<p> +Plodkins’ bath hour was seven o’clock in the morning. Mine was half-past seven. +On the particular morning in question the steward did not call me, and I +thought he had forgotten, so I passed along the dark corridor and tried the +bath-room door. I found it unbolted, and as everything was quiet inside, I +entered. I thought nobody was there, so I shoved the bolt in the door, and went +over to see if the water had been turned on. The light was a little dim even at +that time of the morning, and I must say I was horror-stricken to see, lying in +the bottom of the bath-tub, with his eyes fixed on the ceiling, Plodkins. I am +quite willing to admit that I was never so startled in my life. I thought at +first Plodkins was dead, notwithstanding his open eyes staring at the ceiling; +but he murmured, in a sort of husky far-away whisper, “Thank God,” and then +closed his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter, Plodkins?” I said. “Are you ill? What’s the matter with +you? Shall I call for help?” +</p> + +<p> +There was a feeble negative motion of the head. Then he said, in a whisper, “Is +the door bolted?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” I answered. +</p> + +<p> +After another moment’s pause, I said— +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I ring, and get you some whiskey or brandy?” +</p> + +<p> +Again he shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Help me to get up,” he said feebly. +</p> + +<p> +He was very much shaken, and I had some trouble in getting him on his feet, and +seating him on the one chair in the room. +</p> + +<p> +“You had better come to my state-room,” I said; “it is nearer than yours. What +has happened to you?” +</p> + +<p> +He replied, “I will go in a moment. Wait a minute.” And I waited. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” he continued, when he had apparently pulled himself together a bit, +“just turn on the electric light, will you?” +</p> + +<p> +I reached up to the peg of the electric light and turned it on. A shudder +passed over Plodkins’ frame, but he said nothing. He seemed puzzled, and once +more I asked him to let me take him to my stateroom, but he shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Turn on the water.” I did so. +</p> + +<p> +“Turn out the electric light.” I did that also. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” he added, “put your hand in the water and turn on the electric light.” +</p> + +<p> +I was convinced Plodkins had become insane, but I recollected I was there alone +with him, shaky as he was, in a room with a bolted door, so I put my fingers in +the water and attempted to turn on the electric light. I got a shock that was +very much greater than that which I received when I saw Plodkins lying at the +bottom of the bath-tub. I gave a yell and a groan, and staggered backwards. +Then Plodkins laughed a feeble laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” he said, “I will go with you to your state-room.” +</p> + +<p> +The laugh seemed to have braced up Plodkins like a glass of liquor would have +done, and when we got to my state-room he was able to tell me what had +happened. As a sort of preface to his remarks, I would like to say a word or +two about that bath-tub. It was similar to bath-tubs on board other steamers; a +great and very deep receptacle of solid marble. There were different +nickel-plated taps for letting in hot or cold water, or fresh water or salt +water as was desired; and the escape-pipe instead of being at the end, as it is +in most bath-tubs, was in the centre. It was the custom of the bath-room +steward to fill it about half full of water at whatever temperature you +desired. Then, placing a couple of towels on the rack, he would go and call the +man whose hour it was to bathe. +</p> + +<p> +Plodkins said, “When I went in there everything appeared as usual, except that +the morning was very dark. I stood in the bath-tub, the water coming nearly to +my knees, and reached up to turn on the electric light. The moment I touched +the brass key I received a shock that simply paralyzed me. I think liquor has +something to do with the awful effect the electricity had upon me, because I +had taken too much the night before, and was feeling very shaky indeed; but the +result was that I simply fell full length in the bath-tub just as you found me. +I was unable to move anything except my fingers and toes. I did not appear to +be hurt in the least, and my senses, instead of being dulled by the shock, +seemed to be preternaturally sharp, and I realized in a moment that if this +inability to move remained with me for five minutes I was a dead +man—dead, not from the shock, but by drowning. I gazed up through that +clear green water, and I could see the ripples on the surface slowly subsiding +after my plunge into the tub. It reminded me of looking into an aquarium. You +know how you see up through the water to the surface with the bubbles rising to +the top. I knew that nobody would come in for at least half an hour, and even +then I couldn’t remember whether I had bolted the door or not. Sometimes I bolt +it, and sometimes I don’t. I didn’t this morning, as it happens. All the time I +felt that strength was slowly returning to me, for I continually worked my +fingers and toes, and now feeling seemed to be coming up to my wrists and arms. +Then I remembered that the vent was in the middle of the bath-tub; so, +wriggling my fingers around, I got hold of the ring, and pulled up the plug. In +the dense silence that was around me, I could not tell whether the water was +running out or not; but gazing up towards the ceiling I thought I saw the +surface gradually sinking down and down and down. Of course it couldn’t have +been more than a few seconds, but it seemed to be years and years and years. I +knew that if once I let my breath go I would be drowned, merely by the +spasmodic action of my lungs trying to recover air. I felt as if I should +burst. It was a match against time, with life or death as the stake. At first, +as I said, my senses were abnormally sharp, but, by and by, I began to notice +that they were wavering. I thought the glassy surface of the water, which I +could see above me, was in reality a great sheet of crystal that somebody was +pressing down upon me, and I began to think that the moment it reached my face +I would smother. I tried to struggle, but was held with a grip of steel. +Finally, this slab of crystal came down to my nose, and seemed to split apart. +I could hold on no longer, and with a mighty expiration blew the water up +towards the ceiling, and drew in a frightful smothering breath of salt water, +that I blew in turn upwards, and the next breath I took in had some air with +the water. I felt the water tickling the corners of my mouth, and receding +slower and slower down my face and neck. Then I think I must have become +insensible until just before you entered the room. Of course there is something +wrong with the electric fittings, and there is a leak of electricity; but I +think liquor is at the bottom of all this. I don’t believe it would have +affected me like this if I had not been soaked in whiskey.” +</p> + +<p> +“If I were you,” I said, “I would leave whiskey alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“I intend to,” he answered solemnly, “and baths too.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap9">A Case Of Fever</a></h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“O, underneath the blood red sun,<br/> +No bloodier deed was ever done!<br/> +Nor fiercer retribution sought<br/> +The hand that first red ruin wrought.” +</p> + +<p> +This is the doctor’s story— +</p> + +<p> +The doctors on board the Atlantic liners are usually young men. They are +good-looking and entertaining as well, and generally they can play the violin +or some other instrument that is of great use at the inevitable concert which +takes place about the middle of the Atlantic. They are urbane, polite young +men, and they chat pleasantly and nicely to the ladies on board. I believe that +the doctor on the Transatlantic steamer has to be there on account of the +steerage passengers. Of course the doctor goes to the steerage; but I imagine, +as a general thing, he does not spend any more time there than the rules of the +service compel him to. The ladies, at least, would be unanimous in saying that +the doctor is one of the most charming officials on board the ship. +</p> + +<p> +This doctor, who tells the story I am about to relate, was not like the usual +Atlantic physician. He was older than the average, and, to judge by his +somewhat haggard, rugged face, had seen hard times and rough usage in different +parts of the world. Why he came to settle down on an Atlantic steamer—a +berth which is a starting-point rather than a terminus—I have no means of +knowing. He never told us; but there he was, and one night, as he smoked his +pipe with us in the smoking-room, we closed the door, and compelled him to tell +us a story. +</p> + +<p> +As a preliminary, he took out of his inside pocket a book, from which he +selected a slip of creased paper, which had been there so long that it was +rather the worse for wear, and had to be tenderly handled. +</p> + +<p> +“As a beginning,” said the doctor, “I will read you what this slip of paper +says. It is an extract from one of the United States Government Reports in the +Indian department, and it relates to a case of fever, which caused the death of +the celebrated Indian chief Wolf Tusk. +</p> + +<p> +“I am not sure that I am doing quite right in telling this story. There may be +some risk for myself in relating it, and I don’t know exactly what the United +States Government might have in store for me if the truth came to be known. In +fact, I am not able to say whether I acted rightly or wrongly in the matter I +have to tell you about. You shall be the best judges of that. There is no +question but Wolf Tusk was an old monster, and there is no question either that +the men who dealt with him had been grievously—but, then, there is no use +in my giving you too many preliminaries; each one will say for himself whether +he would have acted as I did or not. I will make my excuses at the end of the +story.” Then he read the slip of paper. I have not a copy of it, and have to +quote from memory. It was the report of the physician who saw Wolf Tusk die, +and it went on to say that about nine o’clock in the morning a heavy and +unusual fever set in on that chief. He had been wounded in the battle of the +day before, when he was captured, and the fever attacked all parts of his body. +Although the doctor had made every effort in his power to relieve the Indian, +nothing could stop the ravages of the fever. At four o’clock in the afternoon, +having been in great pain, and, during the latter part, delirious, he died, and +was buried near the spot where he had taken ill. This was signed by the doctor. +</p> + +<p> +“What I have read you,” said the physician, folding up the paper again, and +placing it in his pocket-book, “is strictly and accurately true, otherwise, of +course, I would not have so reported to the Government. Wolf Tusk was the chief +of a band of irreconcilables, who were now in one part of the West and now in +another, giving a great deal of trouble to the authorities. Wolf Tusk and his +band had splendid horses, and they never attacked a force that outnumbered +their own. In fact, they never attacked anything where the chances were not +twenty to one in their favour, but that, of course, is Indian warfare; and in +this, Wolf Tusk was no different from his fellows. +</p> + +<p> +“On one occasion Wolf Tusk and his band swooped down on a settlement where they +knew that all the defenders were away, and no one but women and children were +left to meet them. Here one of the most atrocious massacres of the West took +place. Every woman and child in the settlement was killed under circumstances +of inconceivable brutality. The buildings, such as they were, were burnt down, +and, when the men returned, they found nothing but heaps of smouldering ruin. +</p> + +<p> +“Wolf Tusk and his band, knowing there would be trouble about this, had made +for the broken ground where they could so well defend themselves. The alarm, +however, was speedily given, and a company of cavalry from the nearest fort +started in hot pursuit. +</p> + +<p> +“I was the physician who accompanied the troops. The men whose families had +been massacred, and who were all mounted on swift horses, begged permission to +go with the soldiers, and that permission was granted, because it was known +that their leader would take them after Wolf Tusk on his own account, and it +was thought better to have every one engaged in the pursuit under the direct +command of the chief officer. +</p> + +<p> +“He divided his troop into three parts, one following slowly after Wolf Tusk, +and the other two taking roundabout ways to head off the savages from the +broken ground and foothills from which no number of United States troops could +have dislodged them. These flanking parties were partly successful. They did +not succeed in heading off the Indians entirely, but one succeeded in changing +their course, and throwing the Indians unexpectedly into the way of the other +flanking party, when a sharp battle took place, and, during its progress, we in +the rear came up. When the Indians saw our reinforcing party come towards them +each man broke away for himself and made for the wilderness. Wolf Tusk, who had +been wounded, and had his horse shot under him, did not succeed in escaping. +The two flanking parties now having reunited with the main body, it was decided +to keep the Indians on the run for a day or two at least, and so a question +arose as to the disposal of the wounded chief. He could not be taken with the +fighting party; there were no soldiers to spare to take him back, and so the +leader of the settlers said that as they had had enough of war, they would +convey him to the fort. Why the commander allowed this to be done, I do not +know. He must have realized the feelings of the settlers towards the man who +massacred their wives and children. However, the request of the settlers was +acceded to, and I was ordered back also, as I had been slightly wounded. You +can see the mark here on my cheek, nothing serious; but the commander thought I +had better get back into the fort, as he was certain there would be no more +need of my services. The Indians were on the run, and would make no further +stand. +</p> + +<p> +“It was about three days’ march from where the engagement had taken place to +the fort. Wolf Tusk was given one of the captured Indian horses. I attended to +the wound in his leg, and he was strapped on the horse, so that there could be +no possibility of his escaping. +</p> + +<p> +“We camped the first night in a little belt of timber that bordered a small +stream, now nearly dry. In the morning I was somewhat rudely awakened, and +found myself tied hand and foot, with two or three of the settlers standing +over me. They helped me to my feet, then half carried and half led me to a +tree, where they tied me securely to the trunk. +</p> + +<p> +“‘What are you going to do? What is the meaning of this?’ I said to them in +astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Nothing,’ was the answer of the leader; ‘that is, nothing, if you will sign a +certain medical report which is to go to the Government. You will see, from +where you are, everything that is going to happen, and we expect you to report +truthfully; but we will take the liberty of writing the report for you. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I noticed that Wolf Tusk was tied to a tree in a manner similar to +myself, and around him had been collected a quantity of firewood. This +firewood, was not piled up to his feet, but formed a circle at some distance +from him, so that the Indian would be slowly roasted. +</p> + +<p> +“There is no use in my describing what took place. When I tell you that they +lit the fire at nine o’clock, and that it was not until four in the afternoon +that Wolf Tusk died, you will understand the peculiar horror of it. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Now,’ said the leader to me when everything was over,’ here is the report I +have written out,’ and he read to me the report which I have read to you. +</p> + +<p> +“‘This dead villain has murdered our wives and our children. If I could have +made his torture last for two weeks I would have done so. You have made every +effort to save him by trying to break loose, and you have not succeeded. We are +not going to harm you, even though you refuse to sign this report. You cannot +bring him to life again, thank God, and all you can do is to put more trouble +on the heads of men who have already, through red devils like this, had more +trouble than they can well stand and keep sane. Will you sign the report?’ +</p> + +<p> +“I said I would, and I did.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap10">How The Captain Got His Steamer Out</a></h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“On his own perticular well-wrought row,<br/> + That he’s straddled for ages—<br/> + Learnt its lay and its gages—<br/> +His style may seem queer, but permit him to know,<br/> +The likeliest, sprightliest, manner to hoe.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is nothing more certain than that some day we may have to record a +terrible disaster directly traceable to ocean racing. +</p> + +<p> +“The vivid account which one of our reporters gives in another column of how +the captain of the <i>Arrowic</i> went blundering across the bar yesterday in +one of the densest fogs of the season is very interesting reading. Of course +the account does not pretend to be anything more than imaginary, for, until the +<i>Arrowic</i> reaches Queenstown, if she ever does under her present captain, +no one can tell how much of luck was mixed with the recklessness which took +this steamer out into the Atlantic in the midst of the thickest fog we have had +this year. All that can be known at present is, that, when the fog lifted, the +splendid steamer <i>Dartonia</i> was lying at anchor in the bay, having missed +the tide, while the <i>Arrowic</i> was nowhere to be seen. If the fog was too +thick for the <i>Dartonia</i> to cross the bar, how, then, did the captain of +the <i>Arrowic</i> get his boat out? The captain of the <i>Arrowic</i> should +be taught to remember that there are other things to be thought of beside the +defeating of a rival steamer. He should be made to understand that he has under +his charge a steamer worth a million and a half of dollars, and a cargo +probably nearly as valuable. Still, he might have lost his ship and cargo, and +we would have had no word to say. That concerns the steamship company and the +owners of the cargo; but he had also in his care nearly a thousand human lives, +and these he should not be allowed to juggle with in order to beat all the +rival steamers in the world.” +</p> + +<p> +The above editorial is taken from the columns of the New York <i>Daily +Mentor</i>. The substance of it had been cabled across to London and it made +pleasant reading for the captain of the <i>Arrowic</i> at Queenstown. The +captain didn’t say anything about it; he was not a talkative man. Probably he +explained to his chief, if the captain of an ocean liner can possibly have a +chief, how he got his vessel out of New York harbour in a fog; but, if he did, +the explanation was never made public, and so here’s an account of it published +for the first time, and it may give a pointer to the captain of the rival liner +<i>Dartonia</i>. I may say, however, that the purser was not as silent as the +captain. He was very indignant at what he called the outrage of the New York +paper, and said a great many unjustifiable things about newspaper men. He knew +I was a newspaper man myself, and probably that is the reason he launched his +maledictions against the fraternity at my head. +</p> + +<p> +“Just listen to that wretched penny-a-liner,” he said, rapping savagely on the +paper with the back of his hand. +</p> + +<p> +I intimated mildly that they paid more than a penny a line for newspaper work +in New York, but he said that wasn’t the point. In fact the purser was too +angry to argue calmly. He was angry the whole way from Queenstown to Liverpool. +</p> + +<p> +“Here,” he said, “is some young fellow, who probably never saw the inside of a +ship in his life, and yet he thinks he can tell the captain of a great ocean +liner what should be done and what shouldn’t. Just think of the cheek of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t see any cheek in it,” I said, as soothingly as possible. “You don’t +mean to pretend to argue, at this time of day that a newspaper man does +<i>not</i> know how to conduct every other business as well as his own.” +</p> + +<p> +But the purser did make that very contention, although of course he must be +excused, for, as I said, he was not in a good temper. +</p> + +<p> +“Newspaper men,” he continued, “act as if they did know everything. They +pretend in their papers that every man thinks he knows how to run a newspaper +or a hotel. But look at their own case. See the advice they give to statesmen. +See how they would govern Germany, or England, or any other country under the +sun. Does a big bank get into trouble, the newspaper man at once informs the +financiers how they should have conducted their business. Is there a great +railway smash-up, the newspaper man shows exactly how it could have been +avoided if he had had the management of the railway. Is there a big strike, the +newspaper man steps in. He tells both sides what they should do. If every man +thinks he can run a hotel, or a newspaper—and I am sure most men could +run a newspaper as well as the newspapers are conducted now—the conceit +of the ordinary man is nothing to the conceit of the newspaper man. He not only +thinks he can run a newspaper and a hotel, but every other business under the +sun.” +</p> + +<p> +“And how do you know he can’t,” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +But the purser would not listen to reason. He contended that a captain who had +crossed the ocean hundreds of times and for years and years had worked his way +up, had just as big a sense of responsibility for his passengers and his ship +and his cargo as any newspaper man in New York could have, and this palpably +absurd contention he maintained all the way to Liverpool. +</p> + +<p> +When a great ocean racer is making ready to put out to sea, there can hardly be +imagined a more bustling scene than that which presents itself on the deck and +on the wharf. There is the rush of passengers, the banging about of luggage, +the hurrying to and fro on the decks, the roar of escaping steam, the working +of immense steam cranes hoisting and lowering great bales of merchandise and +luggage from the wharf to the hold, and here and there in quiet corners, away +from the rush, are tearful people bidding good-bye to one another. +</p> + +<p> +The <i>Arrowic</i> and the <i>Dartonia</i> left on the same day and within the +same hour, from wharfs that were almost adjoining each other. We on board the +<i>Arrowic</i> could see the same bustle and stir on board the <i>Dartonia</i> +that we ourselves were in the midst of. +</p> + +<p> +The <i>Dartonia</i> was timed to leave about half an hour ahead of us, and we +heard the frantic ringing of her last bell warning everybody to get on shore +who were not going to cross the ocean. Then the great steamer backed slowly out +from her wharf. +</p> + +<p> +Of course all of us who were going on the <i>Arrowic</i> were warm champions of +that ship as the crack ocean racer; but, as the <i>Dartonia</i> moved backwards +with slow stately majesty, all her colours flying, and her decks black with +passengers crowding to the rail and gazing towards us, we could not deny that +she was a splendid vessel, and “even the ranks of Tuscany could scarce forbear +a cheer.” Once out in the stream her twin screws enabled her to turn around +almost without the help of tugs, and just as our last bell was ringing she +moved off down the bay. Then we backed slowly out in the same fashion, and, +although we had not the advantage of seeing ourselves, we saw a great sight on +the wharf, which was covered with people, ringing with cheers, and white with +the flutter of handkerchiefs. +</p> + +<p> +As we headed down stream the day began to get rather thick. It had been gloomy +all morning, and by the time we reached the Statue of Liberty it was so foggy +that one could hardly see three boats’ length ahead or behind. All eyes were +strained to catch a glimpse of the <i>Dartonia</i>, but nothing of her was +visible. Shortly after, the fog came down in earnest and blotted out +everything. There was a strong wind blowing, and the vapour, which was cold and +piercing, swept the deck with dripping moisture. Then we came to a standstill. +The ship’s bell was rung continually forward and somebody was whanging on the +gong towards the stern. Everybody knew that, if this sort of thing lasted long, +we would not get over the bar that tide, and consequently everybody felt +annoyed, for this delay would lengthen the trip, and people, as a general +thing, do not take passage on an ocean racer with the idea of getting in a day +late. Suddenly the fog lifted clear from shore to shore. Then we saw something +that was not calculated to put our minds at ease. A big three-masted vessel, +with full sail, dashed past us only a very few yards behind the stern of the +mammoth steamer. +</p> + +<p> +“Look at that blundering idiot,” said the purser to me, “rushing full speed +over crowded New York Bay in a fog as thick as pea-soup. A captain who would do +a thing like that ought to be hanged.” +</p> + +<p> +Before the fog settled down again we saw the <i>Dartonia</i> with her anchor +chain out a few hundred yards to our left, and, farther on, one of the big +German steamers, also at anchor. +</p> + +<p> +In the short time that the fog was lifted our own vessel made some progress +towards the bar. Then the thickness came down again. A nautical passenger, who +had crossed many times, came aft to where I was standing, and said— +</p> + +<p> +“Do you notice what the captain is trying to do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” I answered, “I don’t see how anybody can do anything in weather like +this.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is a strong wind blowing,” continued the nautical passenger, “and the +fog is liable to lift for a few minutes at a time. If it lifts often enough our +captain is going to get us over the bar. It will be rather a sharp bit of work +if he succeeds. You notice that the <i>Dartonia</i> has thrown out her anchor. +She is evidently going to wait where she is until the fog clears away +entirely.” +</p> + +<p> +So with that we two went forward to see what was being done. The captain stood +on the bridge and beside him the pilot, but the fog was now so thick we could +hardly see them, although we stood close by, on the piece of deck in front of +the wheelhouse. The almost incessant clanging of the bell was kept up, and in +the pauses we heard answering bells from different points in the thick fog. +Then, for a second time, and with equal suddenness, the fog lifted ahead of us. +Behind we could not see either the <i>Dartonia</i> or the German steamer. Our +own boat, however, went full speed ahead and kept up the pace till the fog shut +down again. The captain now, in pacing the bridge, had his chronometer in his +hand, and those of us who were at the front frequently looked at our watches, +for of course the nautical passenger knew just how late it was possible for us +to cross the bar. +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid,” said the passenger, “he is not going to succeed.” But, as he +said this, the fog lifted for the third time, and again the mammoth steamer +forged ahead. +</p> + +<p> +“If this clearance will only last for ten minutes,” said the nautical +passenger, “we are all right.” But the fog, as if it had heard him, closed down +on us again damper and thicker than ever. +</p> + +<p> +“We are just at the bar,” said the nautical passenger, “and if this doesn’t +clear up pretty soon the vessel will have to go back.” +</p> + +<p> +The captain kept his eyes fixed on the chronometer in his hand. The pilot tried +to peer ahead, but everything was a thick white blank. +</p> + +<p> +“Ten minutes more and it is too late,” said the nautical passenger. +</p> + +<p> +There was a sudden rift in the fog that gave a moment’s hope, but it closed +down again. A minute afterwards, with a suddenness that was strange, the whole +blue ocean lay before us. Then full steam ahead. The fog still was thick behind +us in New York Bay. We saw it far ahead coming in from the ocean. All at once +the captain closed his chronometer with a snap. We were over the bar and into +the Atlantic, and that is how the captain got the <i>Arrowic</i> out of New +York Bay. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap11">My Stowaway</a></h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“Ye can play yer jokes on Nature,<br/> + An’ play ’em slick,<br/> +She’ll grin a grin, but, landsakes, friend,<br/> + Look out fer the kick!” +</p> + +<p> +One night about eleven o’clock I stood at the stern of that fine Atlantic +steamship, the <i>City of Venice,</i> which was ploughing its way through the +darkness towards America. I leaned on the rounded bulwark and enjoyed a smoke +as I gazed on the luminous trail the wheel was making in the quiet sea. Some +one touched me on the shoulder, saying, “Beg pardon, sir;” and, on +straightening up, I saw in the dim light a man whom at first I took to be one +of the steerage passengers. I thought he wanted to get past me, for the room +was rather restricted in the passage between the aft wheelhouse and the stern, +and I moved aside. The man looked hurriedly to one side and then the other and, +approaching, said in a whisper, “I’m starving, sir!” +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you go and get something to eat, then? Don’t they give you plenty +forward?” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose they do, sir; but I’m a stowaway. I got on at Liverpool. What little +I took with me is gone, and for two days I’ve had nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come with me. I’ll take you to the steward, he’ll fix you all right.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no, no, no,” he cried, trembling with excitement. “If you speak to any of +the officers or crew I’m lost. I assure you, sir, I’m an honest man, I am +indeed, sir. It’s the old story—nothing but starvation at home, so my +only chance seemed to be to get this way to America. If I’m caught I shall get +dreadful usage and will be taken back and put in jail.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you’re mistaken. The officers are all courteous gentlemen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, to you cabin passengers they are. But to a stowaway—that’s a +different matter. If you can’t help me, sir, please don’t inform on me.” +</p> + +<p> +“How can I help you but by speaking to the captain or purser?” +</p> + +<p> +“Get me a morsel to eat.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where were you hid?” +</p> + +<p> +“Right here, sir, in this place,” and he put his hand on the square +deck-edifice beside us. This seemed to be a spare wheel-house, used if anything +went wrong with the one in front. It had a door on each side and there were +windows all round it. At present it was piled full of cane folding steamer +chairs and other odds and ends. +</p> + +<p> +“I crawl in between the chairs and the wall and get under that piece of +tarpaulin.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you’re sure of being caught, for the first fine day all these chairs +will be taken out and the deck steward can’t miss you.” +</p> + +<p> +The man sighed as I said this and admitted the chances were much against him. +Then, starting up, he cried, “Poverty is the great crime. If I had stolen some +one else’s money I would have been able to take cabin passage instead +of—” +</p> + +<p> +“If you weren’t caught.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, if I were caught, what then? I would be well fed and taken care of.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, they’d take <i>care</i> of you.” +</p> + +<p> +“The waste food in this great ship would feed a hundred hungry wretches like +me. Does my presence keep the steamer back a moment of time? No. Well, who is +harmed by my trying to better myself in a new world? No one. I am begging for a +crust from the lavish plenty, all because I am struggling to be honest. It is +only when I become a thief that I am out of danger of starvation—caught +or free.” +</p> + +<p> +“There, there; now, don’t speak so loud or you’ll have some one here. You hang +round and I’ll bring you some provender. What would you like to have? Poached +eggs on toast, roast turkey, or—” +</p> + +<p> +The wretch sank down at my feet as I said this, and, recognising the cruelty of +it, I hurried down into the saloon and hunted up a steward who had not yet +turned in. “Steward,” I said, “can you get me a few sandwiches or anything to +eat at this late hour?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yessir, certainly, sir; beef or ’am, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“Both, and a cup of coffee, please.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sir, I’m afraid there’s no coffee, sir; but I could make you a pot of +tea in a moment, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right, and bring them to my room, please?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yessir.” +</p> + +<p> +In a very short time there was that faint steward rap at the state-room door +and a most appetising tray-load was respectfully placed at my service. +</p> + +<p> +When the waiter had gone I hurried up the companion-way with much the air of a +man who is stealing fowls, and I found my stowaway just in the position I had +left him. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, pitch in,” I said. “I’ll stand guard forward here, and, if you hear me +cough, strike for cover. I’ll explain the tray matter if it’s found.” +</p> + +<p> +He simply said, “Thank you, sir,” and I went forward. When I came back the tray +had been swept clean and the teapot emptied. My stowaway was making for his den +when I said, “How about to-morrow?” +</p> + +<p> +He answered, “This’ll do me for a couple of days.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nonsense. I’ll have a square meal for you here in the corner of this +wheel-house, so that you can get at it without trouble. I’ll leave it about +this time to-morrow night.” +</p> + +<p> +“You won’t tell any one, any one at all, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. At least, I’ll think over the matter, and if I see a way out I’ll let you +know.” +</p> + +<p> +“God bless you, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +I turned the incident over in my mind a good deal that night, and I almost made +a resolution to take Cupples into my confidence. Roger Cupples, a lawyer of San +Francisco, sat next me at table, and with the freedom of wild Westerners we +were already well acquainted, although only a few days out. Then I thought of +putting a supposititious case to the captain—he was a thorough +gentleman—and if he spoke generously about the supposititious case I +would spring the real one on him. The stowaway had impressed me by his language +as being a man worth doing something for. +</p> + +<p> +Nest day I was glad to see that it was rainy. There would be no demand for ship +chairs that day. I felt that real sunshiny weather would certainly unearth, or +unchair, my stowaway. I met Cupples on deck, and we walked a few rounds +together. +</p> + +<p> +At last, Cupples, who had been telling me some stories of court trials in San +Francisco, said, “Let’s sit down and wrap up. This deck’s too wet to walk on.” +</p> + +<p> +“All the seats are damp,” I said. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll get out my steamer chair. Steward,” he cried to the deck steward who was +shoving a mop back and forth, “get me my chair. There’s a tag on it, ‘Berth +96.’” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” I cried hastily; “let’s go into the cabin. It’s raining.” +</p> + +<p> +“Only a drizzle. Won’t hurt you at sea, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +By this time the deck steward was hauling down chairs trying to find No. 96, +which I felt sure would be near the bottom. I could not control my anxiety as +the steward got nearer and nearer the tarpaulin. At last I cried— +</p> + +<p> +“Steward, never mind that chair; take the first two that come handy.” +</p> + +<p> +Cupples looked astonished, and, as we sat down, I said— +</p> + +<p> +“I have something to tell you, and I trust you will say nothing about it to any +one else. There’s a man under those chairs.” +</p> + +<p> +The look that came into the lawyer’s face showed that he thought me demented; +but, when I told him the whole story, the judicial expression came on, and he +said, shaking his head— +</p> + +<p> +“That’s bad business.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but it’s worse than you have any idea of. I presume that you don’t know +what section 4738 of the Revised Statutes says?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; I don’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it is to the effect that any person or persons, who wilfully or with +malice aforethought or otherwise, shall aid, abet, succor or cherish, either +directly or indirectly or by implication, any person who feloniously or +secretly conceals himself on any vessel, barge, brig, schooner, bark, clipper, +steamship or other craft touching at or coming within the jurisdiction of these +United States, the said person’s purpose being the defrauding of the revenue +of, or the escaping any or all of the just legal dues exacted by such vessel, +barge, etc., the person so aiding or abetting, shall in the eye of the law be +considered as accomplice before, during and after the illegal act, and shall in +such case be subject to the penalties accruing thereunto, to wit—a fine +of not more than five thousand dollars, or imprisonment of not more than two +years—or both at the option of the judge before whom the party so accused +is convicted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Great heavens! is that really so?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it isn’t word for word, but that is the purport. Of course, if I had my +books here, I—why, you’ve doubtless heard of the case of the Pacific +Steamship Company <i>versus</i> Cumberland. I was retained on behalf of the +company. Now all Cumberland did was to allow the man—he was sent up for +two years—to carry his valise on board, but we proved the intent. Like a +fool, he boasted of it, but the steamer brought back the man, and Cumberland +got off with four thousand dollars and costs. Never got out of that scrape less +than ten thousand dollars. Then again, the steamship <i>Peruvian versus</i> +McNish; that is even more to the—” +</p> + +<p> +“See here, Cupples. Come with me to-night and see the man. If you heard him +talk you would see the inhumanity—” +</p> + +<p> +“Tush. I’m not fool enough to mix up in such a matter, and look here, you’ll +have to work it pretty slick if you get yourself out. The man will be caught as +sure as fate; then knowingly or through fright he’ll incriminate you.” +</p> + +<p> +“What would you do if you were in my place?” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear sir, don’t put it that way. It’s a reflection on both my judgment and +my legal knowledge. I <i>couldn’t</i> be in such a scrape. But, as a +lawyer—minus the fee—I’ll tell you what <i>you</i> should do. You +should give the man up before witnesses—before <i>witnesses</i>. I’ll be +one of them myself. Get as many of the cabin passengers as you like out here, +to-day, and let the officers search. If he charges you with what the law terms +support, deny it, and call attention to the fact that you have given +information. By the way, I would give written information and keep a copy.” +</p> + +<p> +“I gave the man my word not to inform on him and so I can’t do it to-day, but +I’ll tell him of it to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +“And have him commit suicide or give himself up first and incriminate you? +Nonsense. Just release yourself from your promise. That’s all. He’ll trust +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, poor wretch, I’m afraid he will.” +</p> + +<p> +About ten o’clock that night I resolved to make another appeal to Roger Cupples +to at least stand off and hear the man talk. Cupples’ state-room, No. 96, was +in the forward part of the steamer, down a long passage and off a short side +passage. Mine was aft the cabin. The door of 96 was partly open, and inside an +astonishing sight met my gaze. +</p> + +<p> +There stood my stowaway. +</p> + +<p> +He was evidently admiring himself in the glass, and with a brush was touching +up his face with dark paint here and there. When he put on a woe-begone look he +was the stowaway; when he chuckled to himself he was Roger Cupples, Esq. +</p> + +<p> +The moment the thing dawned on me I quietly withdrew and went up the forward +companion way. Soon Cupples came cautiously up and seeing the way clear scudded +along in the darkness and hid in the aft wheelhouse. I saw the whole thing now. +It was a scheme to get me to make a fool of myself some fine day before the +rest of the passengers and have a standing joke on me. I walked forward. The +first officer was on duty. +</p> + +<p> +“I have reason to believe,” I said, “that there is a stowaway in the aft +wheelhouse.” +</p> + +<p> +Quicker than it takes me to tell it a detachment of sailors were sent aft under +the guidance of the third mate. I went through the saloon and smoking room, and +said to the gentlemen who were playing cards and reading—“There’s a row +upstairs of some kind.” +</p> + +<p> +We were all on deck before the crew had surrounded the wheelhouse. There was a +rattle of steamer folded chairs, a pounce by the third mate, and out came the +unfortunate Cupples, dragged by the collar. +</p> + +<p> +“Hold on; let go. This is a mistake.” +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t both hold on and let go,” said Stalker, of Indiana. +</p> + +<p> +“Come out o’ this,” cried the mate, jerking him forward. +</p> + +<p> +With a wrench the stowaway tore himself free and made a dash for the companion +way. A couple of sailors instantly tripped him up. +</p> + +<p> +“Let go of me; I’m a cabin passenger,” cried Cupples. +</p> + +<p> +“Bless me!” I cried in astonishment. “This isn’t you, Cupples? Why, I acted on +your own advice and that of Revised Statutes, No. what ever-they-were.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, act on my advice again,” cried the infuriated Cupples, “and go +to—the hold.” +</p> + +<p> +However, he was better in humour the next day, and stood treat all round. We +found, subsequently, that Cupples was a New York actor, and at the +entertainment given for the benefit of the sailors’ orphans, a few nights +after, he recited a piece in costume that just melted the ladies. It was voted +a wonderfully touching performance, and he called it “The Stowaway.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap12">The Purser’s Story</a></h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“O Mother-nature, kind in touch and tone.<br/> +Act as we may, thou clearest to thine own.” +</p> + +<p> +I don’t know that I should tell this story. +</p> + +<p> +When the purser related it to me I know it was his intention to write it out +for a magazine. In fact he <i>had</i> written it, and I understand that a noted +American magazine had offered to publish it, but I have watched that magazine +for over three years and I have not yet seen the purser’s story in it. I am +sorry that I did not write the story at the time; then perhaps I should have +caught the exquisite peculiarities of the purser’s way of telling it. I find +myself gradually forgetting the story and I write it now in case I <i>shall</i> +forget it, and then be harassed all through after life by the remembrance of +the forgetting. +</p> + +<p> +There is no position more painful and tormenting than the consciousness of +having had something worth the telling, which, in spite of all mental effort, +just eludes the memory. It hovers nebulously beyond the outstretched +finger-ends of recollection, and, like the fish that gets off the hook, becomes +more and more important as the years fade. +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps, when you read this story, you will say there is nothing in it after +all. Well, that will be my fault, then, and I can only regret I did not write +down the story when it was told to me, for as I sat in the purser’s room that +day it seemed to me I had never heard anything more graphic. +</p> + +<p> +The purser’s room was well forward on the Atlantic steamship. From one of the +little red-curtained windows you could look down to where the steerage +passengers were gathered on the deck. When the bow of the great vessel plunged +down into the big Atlantic waves, the smother of foam that shot upwards would +be borne along with the wind, and spatter like rain against the purser’s +window. Something about this intermittent patter on the pane reminded the +purser of the story, and so he told it to me. +</p> + +<p> +There were a great many steerage passengers coming on at Queenstown, he said, +and there was quite a hurry getting them aboard. Two officers stood at each +side of the gangway and took the tickets as the people crowded forward. They +generally had their tickets in their hands and there was usually no trouble. I +stood there and watched them coming aboard. Suddenly there was a fuss and a +jam. “What is it?” I asked the officer. +</p> + +<p> +“Two girls, sir, say they have lost their tickets.” +</p> + +<p> +I took the girls aside and the stream of humanity poured in. One was about +fourteen and the other, perhaps, eight years old. The little one had a firm +grip of the elder’s hand and she was crying. The larger girl looked me straight +in the eye as I questioned her. +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s your tickets?” +</p> + +<p> +“We lost thim, sur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” +</p> + +<p> +“I dunno, sur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think you have them about you or in your luggage?” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ve no luggage, sur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is this your sister?” +</p> + +<p> +“She is, sur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are your parents aboard?” +</p> + +<p> +“They are not, sur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you all alone?” +</p> + +<p> +“We are, sur.” +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t go without your tickets.” +</p> + +<p> +The younger one began to cry the more, and the elder answered, “Mabbe we can +foind thim, sur.” +</p> + +<p> +They were bright-looking, intelligent children, and the larger girl gave me +such quick, straightforward answers, and it seemed so impossible that children +so young should attempt to cross the ocean without tickets that I concluded to +let them come, and resolved to get at the truth on the way over. +</p> + +<p> +Next day I told the deck steward to bring the children to my room. +</p> + +<p> +They came in just as I saw them the day before, the elder with a tight grip on +the hand of the younger, whose eyes I never caught sight of. She kept them +resolutely on the floor, while the other looked straight at me with her big, +blue eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, have you found your tickets?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sur.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is your name?” +</p> + +<p> +“Bridget, sur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bridget what?” +</p> + +<p> +“Bridget Mulligan, sur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where did you live?” +</p> + +<p> +“In Kildormey, sur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where did you get your tickets?” +</p> + +<p> +“From Mr. O’Grady, sur.” +</p> + +<p> +Now, I knew Kildormey as well as I know this ship, and I knew O’Grady was our +agent there. I would have given a good deal at that moment for a few words with +him. But I knew of no Mulligans in Kildormey, although, of course, there might +be. I was born myself only a few miles from the place. Now, thinks I to myself, +if these two children can baffle a purser who has been twenty years on the +Atlantic when they say they came from his own town almost, by the powers they +deserve their passage over the ocean. I had often seen grown people try to +cheat their way across, and I may say none of them succeeded on <i>my</i> +ships. +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s your father and mother?” +</p> + +<p> +“Both dead, sur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who was your father?” +</p> + +<p> +“He was a pinshoner, sur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where did he draw his pension?” +</p> + +<p> +“I donno, sur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where did you get the money to buy your tickets?” +</p> + +<p> +“The neighbors, sur, and Mr. O’Grady helped, sur.” +</p> + +<p> +“What neighbours? Name them.” +</p> + +<p> +She unhesitatingly named a number, many of whom I knew; and as that had +frequently been done before, I saw no reason to doubt the girl’s word. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” I said, “I want to speak with your sister. You may go.” +</p> + +<p> +The little one held on to her sister’s hand and cried bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +When the other was gone, I drew the child towards me and questioned her, but +could not get a word in reply. +</p> + +<p> +For the next day or two I was bothered somewhat by a big Irishman named +O’Donnell, who was a fire-brand among the steerage passengers. He <i>would</i> +harangue them at all hours on the wrongs of Ireland, and the desirability of +blowing England out of the water; and as we had many English and German +passengers, as well as many peaceable Irishmen, who complained of the constant +ructions O’Donnell was kicking up, I was forced to ask him to keep quiet. He +became very abusive one day and tried to strike me. I had him locked up until +he came to his senses. +</p> + +<p> +While I was in my room, after this little excitement, Mrs. O’Donnell came to me +and pleaded for her rascally husband. I had noticed her before. She was a poor, +weak, broken-hearted woman whom her husband made a slave of, and I have no +doubt beat her when he had the chance. She was evidently mortally afraid of +him, and a look from him seemed enough to take the life out of her. He was a +worse tyrant, in his own small way, than England had ever been. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Mrs. O’Donnell,” I said, “I’ll let your husband go, but he will have to +keep a civil tongue in his head and keep his hands off people. I’ve seen men, +for less, put in irons during a voyage and handed over to the authorities when +they landed. And now I want you to do me a favour. There are two children on +board without tickets. I don’t believe they ever had tickets, and I want to +find out. You’re a kind-hearted woman, Mrs. O’Donnell, and perhaps the children +will answer you.” I had the two called in, and they came hand in hand as usual. +The elder looked at me as if she couldn’t take her eyes off my face. +</p> + +<p> +“Look at this woman,” I said to her; “she wants to speak to you. Ask her some +questions about herself,” I whispered to Mrs. O’Donnell. +</p> + +<p> +“Acushla,” said Mrs. O’Donnell with infinite tenderness, taking the disengaged +hand of the elder girl. “Tell me, darlint, where yees are from.” +</p> + +<p> +I suppose I had spoken rather harshly to them before, although I had not +intended to do so, but however that may be, at the first words of kindness from +the lips of their countrywoman both girls broke down and cried as if their +hearts would break. The poor woman drew them towards her, and, stroking the +fair hair of the elder girl, tried to comfort her while the tears streamed down +her own cheeks. “Hush, acushla; hush, darlints, shure the gentlemin’s not goin’ +to be hard wid two poor childher going to a strange country.” +</p> + +<p> +Of course it would never do to admit that the company could carry emigrants +free through sympathy, and I must have appeared rather hard-hearted when I told +Mrs. O’Donnell that I would have to take them back with me to Cork. I sent the +children away, and then arranged with Mrs. O’Donnell to see after them during +the voyage, to which she agreed if her husband would let her. I could get +nothing from the girl except that she had lost her ticket; and when we sighted +New York, I took them through the steerage and asked the passengers if any one +would assume charge of the children and pay their passage. No one would do so. +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” I said, “these children will go back with me to Cork; and if I find +they never bought tickets, they will have to go to jail.” +</p> + +<p> +There were groans and hisses at that, and I gave the children in charge of the +cabin stewardess, with orders to see that they did not leave the ship. I was at +last convinced that they had no friends among the steerage passengers. I +intended to take them ashore myself before we sailed; and I knew of good +friends in New York who would see to the little waifs, although I did not +propose that any of the emigrants should know that an old bachelor purser was +fool enough to pay for the passage of a couple of unknown Irish children. +</p> + +<p> +We landed our cabin passengers, and the tender came alongside to take the +steerage passengers to Castle Garden. I got the stewardess to bring out the +children, and the two stood and watched every one get aboard the tender. +</p> + +<p> +Just as the tender moved away, there was a wild shriek among the crowded +passengers, and Mrs. O’Donnell flung her arms above her head and cried in the +most heart-rending tone I ever heard—“Oh, my babies, my babies.” +</p> + +<p> +“Kape quiet, ye divil,” hissed O’Donnell, grasping her by the arm. The terrible +ten days’ strain had been broken at last, and the poor woman sank in a heap at +his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“Bring back that boat,” I shouted, and the tender came back. +</p> + +<p> +“Come aboard here, O’Donnell.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll not!” he yelled, shaking his fist at me. +</p> + +<p> +“Bring that man aboard.” +</p> + +<p> +They soon brought him back, and I gave his wife over to the care of the +stewardess. She speedily rallied, and hugged and kissed her children as if she +would never part with them. +</p> + +<p> +“So, O’Donnell, these are your children?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yis, they are; an’ I’d have ye know I’m in a frae country, bedad, and I dare +ye to lay a finger on me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t dare too much,” I said, “or I’ll show you what can be done in a free +country. Now, if I let the children go, will you send their passage money to +the company when you get it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will,” he answered, although I knew he lied. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” I said, “for Mrs. O’Donnell’s sake, I’ll let them go; and I must +congratulate any free country that gets a citizen like you.” +</p> + +<p> +Of course I never heard from O’Donnell again. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap13">Miss McMillan</a></h2> + +<p class="poem"> +“Come hop, come skip, fair children all,<br/> +Old Father Time is in the hall.<br/> +He’ll take you on his knee, and stroke<br/> +Your golden hair to silver bright,<br/> +Your rosy cheeks to wrinkles white” +</p> + +<p> +In the saloon of the fine Transatlantic liner the <i>Climatus</i>, two long +tables extend from the piano at one end to the bookcase at the other end of the +ample dining-room. +</p> + +<p> +On each side of this main saloon are four small tables intended to accommodate +six or seven persons. At one of these tables sat a pleasant party of four +ladies and three gentlemen. Three ladies were from Detroit, and one from Kent, +in England. At the head of the table sat Mr. Blair, the frosts of many American +winters in his hair and beard, while the lines of care in his ragged, cheerful +Scottish face told of a life of business crowned with generous success. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Waters, a younger merchant, had all the alert vivacity of the pushing +American. He had the distinguished honour of sitting opposite me at the small +table. Blair and Waters occupied the same room, No. 27. The one had crossed the +Atlantic more than fifty times, the other nearly thirty. Those figures show the +relative proportion of their business experience. +</p> + +<p> +The presence of Mr. Blair gave to our table a sort of patriarchal dignity that +we all appreciated. If a louder burst of laughter than usual came from where we +sat and the other passengers looked inquiringly our way the sedate and +self-possessed face of Mr. Blair kept us in countenance, and we, who had given +way to undue levity, felt ourselves enshrouded by an atmosphere of genial +seriousness. This prevented our table from getting the reputation of being +funny or frivolous. +</p> + +<p> +Some remark that Blair made brought forth the following extraordinary statement +from Waters, who told it with the air of a man exposing the pretensions of a +whited sepulchre. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, before this voyage goes any further,” he began, “I have a serious duty to +perform which I can shirk no longer, unpleasant though it be. Mr. Blair and +myself occupy the same state-room. Into that state-room has been sent a most +lovely basket of flowers. It is not an ordinary basket of flowers, I assure +you, ladies. There is a beautiful floral arch over a bed of colour, and I +believe there is some tender sentiment connected with the display;—<i>Bon +Voyage, Auf Wiedersehen,</i> or some such motto marked out in red buds. Now +those flowers are not for me. I think, therefore, that Mr. Blair owes it to +this company, which has so unanimously placed him at the head of the table, to +explain how it comes that an elderly gentleman gets such a handsome floral +tribute sent him from some unknown person in New York.” +</p> + +<p> +We all looked at Mr. Blair, who gazed with imperturbability at Waters. +</p> + +<p> +“If you had all crossed with Waters as often as I have you would know that he +is subject to attacks like that. He means well, but occasionally he gives way +in the deplorable manner you have just witnessed. Now all there is of it +consists in this—a basket of flowers has been sent (no doubt by mistake) +to our state-room. There is nothing but a card on it which says ‘Room 27.’ +Steward,” he cried, “would you go to room 27, bring that basket of flowers, and +set it on this table. We may as well all have the benefit of them.” +</p> + +<p> +The steward soon returned with a large and lovely basket of flowers, which he +set on the table, shoving the caster and other things aside to make room for +it. +</p> + +<p> +We all admired it very much, and the handsome young lady on my left asked Mr. +Blair’s permission to take one of the roses for her own. “Now, mind you,” said +Blair, “I cannot grant a flower from the basket, for you see it is as much the +property of Waters as of myself, for all of his virtuous indignation. It was +sent to the room, and he is one of the occupants. The flowers have evidently +been misdirected.” +</p> + +<p> +The lady referred to took it upon herself to purloin the flower she wanted. As +she did so a card came in view with the words written in a masculine +hand— +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +To<br/> + Miss McMillan,<br/> + With the loving regards of<br/> + Edwin J— +</p> + +<p> +“Miss McMillan!” cried the lady; “I wonder if she is on board? I’d give +anything to know.” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll have a glance at the passenger list,” said Waters. +</p> + +<p> +Down among the M’s on the long list of cabin passengers appeared the name “Miss +McMillan.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said I, “it seems to me that the duty devolves on both Blair and Waters +to spare no pains in delicately returning those flowers to their proper owner. +<i>I</i> think that both have been very remiss in not doing so long ago. They +should apologise publicly to the young lady for having deprived her of the +offering for a day and a half, and then I think they owe an apology to this +table for the mere pretence that any sane person in New York or elsewhere would +go to the trouble of sending either of them a single flower.” +</p> + +<p> +“There will be no apology from me,” said Waters. “If I do not receive the +thanks of Miss McMillan, it will be because good deeds are rarely recognised in +this world. I think it must be evident, even to the limited intelligence of my +journalistic friend across the table, that Mr. Blair intended to keep those +flowers in his state-room, and—of course I make no direct +charges—the concealment of that card certainly looks bad. It may have +been concealed by the sender of the flowers, but to me it looks bad.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course,” said Blair dryly, “to you it looks bad. To the pure, etc.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said the sentimental lady on my left, “while you gentlemen are wasting +the time in useless talk the lady is without her roses. There is one thing that +you all seem to miss. It is not the mere value of the bouquet. There is a +subtle perfume about an offering like this more delicate than that which Nature +gave the flowers—” +</p> + +<p> +“Hear, hear,” broke in Waters. +</p> + +<p> +“I told you,” said Blair aside, “the kind of fellow Waters is. He thinks +nothing of interrupting a lady.” +</p> + +<p> +“Order, both of you!” I cried, rapping on the table; “the lady from England has +the floor.” +</p> + +<p> +“What I was going to say—” +</p> + +<p> +“When Waters interrupted you.” +</p> + +<p> +“When Mr. Waters interrupted me I was going to say that there seems to me a +romantic tinge to this incident that you old married men cannot be expected to +appreciate.” +</p> + +<p> +I looked with surprise at Waters, while he sank back in his seat with the +resigned air of a man in the hands of his enemies. We had both been carefully +concealing the fact that we were married men, and the blunt announcement of the +lady was a painful shock. Waters gave a side nod at Blair, as much as to say, +“He’s given it away.” I looked reproachfully at my old friend at the head of +the table, but he seemed to be absorbed in what our sentimental lady was +saying. +</p> + +<p> +“It is this,” she continued. “Here is a young lady. Her lover sends her a +basket. There may be some hidden meaning that she alone will understand in the +very flowers chosen, or in the arrangement of them. The flowers, let us +suppose, never reach their destination. The message is unspoken, or, rather, +spoken, but unheard. The young lady grieves at the apparent neglect, and then, +in her pride, resents it. She does not write, and he knows not why. The mistake +may be discovered too late, and all because a basket of flowers has been +missent.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Blair,” said Waters, “if anything can make you do the square thing surely +that appeal will.” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall not so far forget what is due to myself and to the dignity of this +table as to reply to our erratic friend. Here is what I propose to +do—first catch our hare. Steward, can you find out for me at what table +and at what seat Miss McMillan is?” +</p> + +<p> +While the steward was gone on his errand Mr. Blair proceeded. +</p> + +<p> +“I will become acquainted with her. McMillan is a good Scotch name and Blair is +another. On that as a basis I think we can speedily form an acquaintance. I +shall then in a casual manner ask her if she knows a young man by the name of +Edwin J., and I shall tell you what effect the mention of the name has on her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, as part owner in the flowers up to date, I protest against that. I insist +that Miss McMillan be brought to this table, and that we all hear exactly what +is said to her,” put in Mr. Waters. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless we agreed that Mr. Blair’s proposal was a good one and the +majority sanctioned it. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile our sentimental lady had been looking among the crowd for the +unconscious Miss McMillan. +</p> + +<p> +“I think I have found her,” she whispered to me. “Do you see that handsome girl +at the captain’s table. Really the handsomest girl on board.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought that distinction rested with our own table.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, please pay attention. Do you see how pensive she is, with her cheek +resting on her hand? I am sure she is thinking of Edwin.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wouldn’t bet on that,” I replied. “There is considerable motion just now, +and indications of a storm. The pensiveness may have other causes.” +</p> + +<p> +Here the steward returned and reported that Miss McMillan had not yet appeared +at table, but had her meals taken to her room by the stewardess. +</p> + +<p> +Blair called to the good-natured, portly stewardess of the <i>Climatus</i>, who +at that moment was passing through the saloon. +</p> + +<p> +“Is Miss McMillan ill?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No, not ill,” replied Mrs. Kay; “but she seems very much depressed at leaving +home, and she has not left her room since we started.” +</p> + +<p> +“There!” said our sentimental lady, triumphantly. +</p> + +<p> +“I would like very much to see her,” said Mr. Blair; “I have some good news for +her.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will ask her to come out. It will do her good,” said the stewardess, as she +went away. +</p> + +<p> +In a few moments she appeared, and, following her, came an old woman, with +white hair, and her eyes concealed by a pair of spectacles. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss McMillan,” said the stewardess, “this is Mr. Blair, who wanted to speak +to you.” +</p> + +<p> +Although Mr. Blair was, as we all were, astonished to see our mythical young +lady changed into a real old woman, he did not lose his equanimity, nor did his +kindly face show any surprise, but he evidently forgot the part he had intended +to play. +</p> + +<p> +“You will pardon me for troubling you, Miss McMillan,” he said, “but this +basket of flowers was evidently intended for you, and was sent to my room by +mistake.” +</p> + +<p> +Miss McMillan did not look at the flowers, but gazed long at the card with the +writing on it, and as she did so one tear and then another stole down the +wrinkled face from behind the glasses. +</p> + +<p> +“There is no mistake, is there?” asked Mr. Blair. “You know the writer.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is no mistake—no mistake,” replied Miss McMillan in a low voice, +“he is a very dear and kind friend.” Then, as if unable to trust herself +further, she took the flowers and hurriedly said, “Thank you,” and left us. +</p> + +<p> +“There,” I said to the lady on my left, “your romance turns out to be nothing +after all.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir,” she cried with emphasis; “the romance is there, and very much more +of a romance than if Miss McMillan was a young and silly girl of twenty.” +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps she was right. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN A STEAMER CHAIR ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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