“Back so soon? don’t they want you any more?”
“No,” he replied gaily enough: “they can do without me now of course, and I am free. It was a bit of a wrench at first, but I soon felt that it would be a very wrong thing for me to stand for a moment between a man and his wife. So I have bid themgood-bye, and do not suppose I shall ever see them again.”
By this time they were up to Mr. Stewart, and so she did not reply but squeezed his arm as she released it, in that act saying—
“I am so glad, for now you are all mine, my very own.” And yet such a bundle of contradictions are we, that she felt quite indignant that her king of men should, as she thought, be so cavalierly treated, flung off as she felt like an old shoe that is worn out and therefore wanted no longer. But no trace of this was to be seen in the bright face she turned to her father as C. B. sat down by his side. Without giving either of them time to speak she said—
“Just think of it, daddy, Christmas is free, they have bidden him good-bye, and we can leave now if you like.”
Mr. Stewart took a meditative puff at his cigar before he answered, then he said—
“A good motto, dear one, is never to be in a hurry. Don’t you know that since Christmas has been away there has been a whole raft of people here wanting to see him, and hear him talk. We’ve been followed from Boston, and I know he won’t want to disappoint all these eager folks who’d like to hear what he’s got to say.” And the deep-set eyes twinkled beneath their bushy grey lashes.
“Indeed, Mr. Stewart,” broke in C. B., “I don’t want to see another reporter. And unless you wish it I won’t. All I want now is to be left alone to enjoy the company of Mary and yourself.”
“You might have left me out I think without hurting your reputation for truth, but never mind. Now I think as you don’t want a lot of newspaper stuff written about you, it’s time I admitted that Idon’t either, and if you are quite willing we’ll get back to Boston, or rather New York, by the Fall River boat to-night. I know what these provincial cities are, and although I love New Bedford wholeheartedly, on this occasion I’ll be pleased to get away from her.”
This decision of Mr. Stewart’s sent the young folks into a silent delight. It would be so good to get away alone, and though neither of them knew what a Fall River boat was like, they were charmed at the idea of going to sea after that weary rail-road time. All the callers were put off, no one was admitted to the privacy of the trio, and so well was the secret kept that when they departed for the station to catch the Fall River train there was nobody about to pester them with inconvenient questions. And when after a short railway journey C. B. walked with Mary on his arm aboard of the palatial vessel which was ready to convey them through the picturesque Long Island Sound route to New York, she was literallyexaltée, for she had not even then realized how unsophisticated he was.
“Is this a ship?” he cried in utter amazement. “Dear Lord, what wonderful things men do! I should never have imagined that such luxury was possible on the sea!” And when an obsequious negro steward showed him to his beautiful stateroom, with its perfect hotel appointment, he felt as if nothing henceforward could astonish him. But he was wrong. For after a good night’s sleep he sprang up shortly after daylight, washed, dressed, and went on deck in time to see the wonderful entrance to New York Harbour. And as he gazed, lost in astonishment, at the amazing traffic, at the masses of buildings everywhere, a mighty steamship from England came gliding majestically past, and recognizing the flaghe took off his hat to it. Just as he did so he felt a light touch upon his arm, and there stood his beloved, radiant as the dawn, a sweet smile of loving greeting upon her beautiful face. No one was near, for they were on the uppermost deck of all, which at that hour is almost deserted. And so they embraced, and their souls went out to each other in a long, loving, lingering kiss.
Then, unheeding the flight of time, they stood on their lofty platform while the huge craft beneath them, deftly handled by the invisible pilot in the wheelhouse, threaded her way among the host of small craft up to her berth. As she drew nearer C. B.’s amazement deepened, for he saw the train ferries, laden with railway cars, gliding across the wide arm of the sea, noted the wonderful energy manifested on every side, and again and again turned to his lovely companion, saying in short gasps—
“What a struggle, what work to be sure. And all to get money. And when it is got, what then? Surely God never intended man to struggle so hard for money alone. It does not seem right to me.”
But she, looking up at him shyly, said in reply, “Perhaps you are right, dear one, but you know that there are animals, insects, that work far harder than man and with apparently far less reason, the ant and the bee for instance.”
But whenever she took him up like that she found that his ignorance of so many things which had always been an open book to her precluded all argument. He was in the primitive stage when everything around is new, and consequently was unable to appreciate the difficulties and limitations of civilized man.
“Come down, dear,” said she at last, “father will be seeking us”; and they descended to witness a sceneon the great main-deck that arrested C. B. as if he had been paralysed. It was crammed with people, all ready to go ashore, all apparently full of eagerness to leave the vessel and recommence the struggle. And as he looked upon the swarming crowd his heart was filled with a great pity for them as he thought how intolerable such a life would be to him. But his sweetheart deftly guided him to her father’s cabin, where stood the old gentleman, his morning cigar between his lips, calmly surveying the busy scene with the eye of a master and enjoying the stir and bustle.
He greeted them with curt affection and invited them to come in and rest; “for,” said he, “you must have been on deck a long time.”
“Since daylight, I think, daddy,” replied Mary laughingly, “but it hasn’t seemed like five minutes; it’s so interesting to watch the absolute wonder of Christmas at everything. I declare I never have known anything more delightful in my life than to witness his amazement and to tell him the most commonplace things, which he receives as if they were details of miracles. Oh dear, dad, I never was so happy, never.”
“I’m so glad,” rejoined her father, “and now you two young people must just leave things to me, for we’re at the wharf. Here, steward!” and an obsequious black man came running up, “get our grips and take them down the gangway to a hack. We’ll go to the Everett House.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll be there at the hack station waitin’ for you when you come down the gangway, sir;” and off he went.
Like a man in a dream C. B. followed Mr. Stewart with his beloved on his arm, but guiding him rather than leaning on him, until, in some strange fashion asit seemed to him savouring of an enchantment, they found themselves in a very babel of noise of men shouting, horses’ hoofs striking fire on the slippery cobbles, clanging of bells and shrill whistlings, seated in the carriage and passing swiftly through a tremendous entanglement of traffic between mighty rows of buildings. Tenderly his beloved looked in his bewildered face and sympathized with him, as much out of his element as a fish is out of water, while Mr. Stewart, his square jaw set and his bushy eyebrows frowning, sat opposite them busily weaving plans for their future.
It was not until they were quietly settled in their comfortable sitting-room at the spacious hotel in Union Square that C. B. began to lose that worried, harassed look which so distressed his sweetheart. Then, when Mr. Stewart had left them, pleading business, she said tenderly—
“My dear one, I know how you hate all this. And so do I for your sake. Now tell me if you can what you would like to do after—well, after we are married?”
Without a moment’s hesitation he answered—
“Why, I would like to take you home. Home to that dear place where all this needless bustle and uproar never comes, where peace and love reign without a break and God is King. Oh, how I long to be there again!”
For a moment her brow clouded as she felt that if the choice were to be made by him between living here with her in the vortex of gay society and going back to his island home alone, he would give her up, and the question trembled on her lip. But she dared not ask it. She felt that where he was she could be happy, and that she had chosen rightly in taking such a man for her husband in any case, foralthough full of spirits and intelligence and so easily first in all the gay companies she had been wont to frequent, she had always longed for the peace and quiet of a country where the absurd conventions of civilization did not count. And she was glad. So she said quietly, “In the words of Ruth, in that book you love so well, ‘Whither thou goest I will go, thy people shall be my people, thy God my God.’ I will leave all for you, dear, and I feel sure that I shall never regret my choice.”
He, simple soul, took all that for granted, and as he had never dreamed that there had been anything heroic in the sacrifice Mr. Stewart was making, or thought about the monetary aspect of the affair, so now it seemed to him the most natural thing in the world that this dear girl, loving him as she said she did, should be glad to throw all the stress and strain of the life she had been used to behind her and follow him. I fear that many will account it callous selfishness on his part, but it was really not so. In his very soul he felt that it would be best for them both. He remembered the lovely life of his father and mother, and could conceive of nothing happier, more delightful for his beloved. And so his soul was at rest.
They sat there and talked of their simple future until the waiter came and announced luncheon, which they took together as the father had not returned. And the afternoon slipped away as the morning had done, until the shadows lengthened and still Mr. Stewart did not come. At last, when it was quite dark, he returned, and flung himself into a chair with a sigh of weariness. Immediately his daughter was at his side full of solicitude.
“Tired, daddy dear?” she queried gently.
“Yes, love, and ruined,” he answered quietly.“There is just enough saved from the wreck to take us out to your lover’s island and keep us there till we die. And I don’t know that I’m sorry. I can’t say that the Lord gave, but I think the Lord has taken away, and I can say I know, that blessed be the name of the Lord.”
For a little while after Mr. Stewart had communicated this important news they all sat in perfect stillness: C. B. because he did not in the least understand what had happened, but he could see it was something that had tremendously upset these two people who were so dear to him. Mr. Stewart was the first to speak.
“I can never feel sufficiently grateful,” he said, “for the impulse to fix up that annuity for Taber on the spot and for yielding to it. It was only in the nick of time, for this great crash came yesterday afternoon. Had I been in San Francisco it would not have—— But there, why should I say that, Levy is as good and keen and straight a man as I am, and the very best of us get caught sometimes. Even now, if it wasn’t for you, my boy, I think I should have turned to and had a fight for it; but you’ve kinder infected me with your pleasant doctrines, putting me out of conceit with money grubbing for its own sake.”
Mary here burst in impetuously—
“Oh, dear Daddy, that I should hear you say so makes me so glad. I feel glad to think that we have lost our money if only we can get to this happy land that Christmas is looking forward to so hungrily. I felt almost jealous of it, and now I am as eager as he is.”
Just then a rap came at the door and in walkedthe bell-boy with a telegram. The old gentleman tore it open and fell back in his chair, his face ghastly. Both Mary and C. B. sprang to his assistance, but he roused himself with an effort, and waving them back to their seats said, in a hard, strained voice—
“Mary, my love, your poor mother couldn’t stand the strain, she’s dead.”
Mary sat as if stricken to the heart, unable to speak, but she was a girl of great force of character, and she was rallying all her forces to meet this quite unexpected blow.
So her father resumed, saying, “She always had a weak heart as you know, dear, and besides she always had a dread that we should come to poverty. And so I suppose, when some heartless fool blurted out in her hearing that Levy and Stewart had burst up, the blow was more than she could stand. And so she died far away from me. Poor Mary, dear wife. There’s one consolation, she went as she had always wished to go without a long probation of pain, instantaneously from one life to another, thank God. And now, dear ones, I’ll get you to excuse me. I’ve been very hard hit and I feel old and tired. I need rest and quiet, and so I’ll go to my room and lie down a bit. Christmas, I’ll leave you to comfort Mary as no one else can.” And he left the room, walking heavily, almost dragging one foot after the other.
C. B. rose on the instant and strode to Mary’s side, where she sat with lips tight shut, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright and dry.
“Dearest one,” he murmured, taking her in his strong arms, “don’t fight against your natural feelings. It is sometimes good to cry, I feel sure it would be good for you now. And if ever any one had reason to cry it is at the loss of a good mother.”
The last word, softly uttered as it was by her lover, touched the hidden spring of her tears, and they flowed, easily, gently, but copiously, C. B. holding her in his arms and stroking her beautiful hair as if she were a child. And at last she lifted her head and looked him full in the face, saying—
“I do thank God, Christmas, that we’ve got you in this difficult time. Do you know, I think even poor old dad will come to lean upon you directly as I feel I must do now. Why is it, I wonder? I suppose because you are really dwelling in the shadow of the Almighty God, and the changes and chances of this mortal life seem such trivial things to you.”
C. B. fondled her hair a moment or two longer before he replied—
“No, darling, they none of them seem trivial, but I know in whom I have believed, and because He is infinitely wise I do not worry, being sure that He will do His part. I only try to do mine without hitting my head against a brick wall, as I now know some people do if they want to get it down, instead of waiting to hear from God whether it is good that the wall shall come down or not.”
“Ah,” she said in reply, “I’m afraid I shall never come to your standard. Even now you don’t seem to worry at all about getting back home, yet I feel you must be longing to see your mother and father again and all your friends as well. And it is so far away as well as being a difficult place to get to. I have not heard you say one impatient word about getting back, and, do you know, dearest (I’m going to tell you everything), I can’t help wondering sometimes whether you are not just a little callous, unfeeling in some things.”
As she said this she looked at him keenly to see how he would take it. His face lit up with a beautifulsmile as he replied, “No, dearest, I don’t think so. I do feel very keenly, more keenly than I wish, all that goes on around me, but if I have understood anything of the character of Jesus, its principal feature was that in His love for others He had no room for thinking about Himself. All that concerned His personal welfare He left to His Father, and in that I do try, I have always tried to imitate Him, because I have found it the easiest thing to do, I suppose. What seems so strange to me is that any one should wonder at me doing this or trying to do it. The Gospels are full of instructions about it, Christianity seems to be built on the words ‘trust in God,’ and yet you, dearest, and others whom I have met who are like-minded, look upon me as a being whom they cannot understand for practising what is so continually preached.”
All she answered was—
“Forgive me, dear, if I can help it I will never allude to it again, but try as hard as I can to imitate the practice, knowing from your example how good it is. But I can tell you one thing that will surprise you,” she went on. “If any of my friends, however Christian their profession, had been in our position, you would have heard worrying and weeping enough, I can assure you. People don’t cast all their care upon the Lord in practice, only in theory, at least no people that I’ve ever met but you. And it seems to me that you don’t get any care, that is you don’t let things become a care to you.”
Just then Mr. Stewart came in, looking perceptibly older and seeming to stoop more. “Now, my children,” he said, “it will be best for us to have a consultation. I’ve quite made up my mind to go with you to Norfolk Island, in fact I had I think before this news came of my double loss. But itwould simplify matters considerable if you two were married, as well as save expense. What’s your idea, Mary, it’s no use asking him, because it’s just one of those things that he wouldn’t trouble about—you’ll have to decide that for him after worrying me so to let you have him.”
“Father,” said Mary, “would it be right and proper so soon after mother’s death?”
“I’ve thought of that,” rejoined he, “and unless you care about what people say I don’t see where the objection lies. When our dear one was with us she only thought of our happiness, and now she’s gone I’m sure her spirit is the same towards us. Besides, if you really care about what people say, remember that nobody knows you here, nor, unless you want to have the usual big show of a wedding, will anybody know. If I was you I’d cut all that business out, and I’m sure that if you consult Christmas he’ll feel the same about it as I do. Only, my best beloved one, do remember that on this, the greatest occasion of your dear life, I want you to be quite satisfied and happy.”
While this conversation was proceeding C. B. sat and listened with a far-away expression in his eyes, which he always wore when anything was being talked about which he did not understand. And although the subject under consideration was of vital interest to him, he did not in the least comprehend their observations upon it. And Mary, catching sight of his face, said with a smile—
“Oh, father, it’s just too funny us discussing this before him as if he had nothing to do with it at all. It’s so strange that he should know nothing of these things. Tell us, dear one”—to C. B.—“what a wedding is like with your people?”
His face brightened directly and he answered—
“Oh, it is very simple and pretty. We make it a festive occasion throughout the whole community, no work being done on that day except what is necessary. The young people stand up before Mr. McCoy, who has a licence to marry people, and he joins hands pronouncing them man and wife in the sight of God and of all the people. They take one another for husband and wife and they are thus made one. Then we have singing, very much singing and praising God. But before the marriage everybody has helped to build a house and prepare a piece of land for the couple so that they have a place to themselves, I was going to say of their own, but we don’t understand anything being our own as other folks do. The idea of having anything which we will not share with others is not known among us.”
“But how about wedding garments?” queried Mary, with a touch of true femininity.
“Well, as you know,” replied C. B., “we are not troubled with many clothes, but we put on the best we have, as we do on Sunday when we all meet at stated hours to worship God in company. And the girls wear flowers in their hair, which makes them look pretty.”
Mr. Stewart here interposed, saying—
“I don’t think I’d pursue the subject any further if I were you, Mary. We can be as simple as C. B.’s folk if we like and I think we had better. As we are going to live like this I think it would be foolish not to begin as early as we can, and I suggest that we go to a parson and let him marry you just as is done in the country by eloping couples,” and he laughed aloud, saying immediately after: “Don’t think me unfeeling, but the thought of hefty Jim Stewart’s daughter getting spliced in such a hole and corner fashion as this makes me. I reckon inthe ordinary way your nuptials would have run me into a couple of hundred thousand dollars at the very least, and we’d a made the Pacific Slope hum.” For a moment he looked regretful and then his face cleared and he added, “But I hope we’ve left that costly kind o’ tomfoolery behind us for ever, darling, and I’m sure we’ll be happier.”
Therefore it came about that the next day, after judicious inquiries made by Mr. Stewart, that the three went over to Brooklyn to a quiet Manse, where Mary Stewart and Christmas Bounty Adams were made one by an aged minister, who behaved as if he fully realized the solemn nature of the ceremony and was in full sympathy with the comely pair. And when Mr. Stewart, with a touch of past lavishness would have pressed a fifty-dollar bill on him as a fee, he refused firmly, saying, “My fee is five dollars, and I would not take that but that I have to live. Do not tempt me with much money, friend, for it brings a snare as I know full well.” Then he gave them his blessing and they returned to the Everett House, Mr. Stewart introducing the newly wedded pair to the proprietor as Mr. and Mrs. Adams, in order to save explanations and invidious remarks.
The rest of the afternoon was devoted to clearing up Mr. Stewart’s business affairs, a task of no great difficulty, in which he was aided by his daughter. It mainly consisted in surrendering all he possessed, except a sum of twenty thousand dollars or four thousand pounds, to the receivers of his estate. That sum he considered would suffice for all their needs in their new life, and for everything else preliminary to commencing it. And this being all put in train the old gentleman rose with a sigh of relief, collected his papers and put them away. Then he said—
“Love and business are all very well in their way, but we must also eat; and now I vote that we go down to the restaurant and do so. It is early for the regular diners, so that we shall not be crowded.”
He did not tell them that he had ordered a simple little dinner for the three of them at the far end of the room, where they could be almost in private; and when C. B. saw the pretty little table decorated with choice flowers, his face lighted up, and with great delight he called his bride’s attention to what he considered the kindly behaviour of the proprietor.
The meal proceeded in the happiest fashion, for though the food was of the simplest and best they all ate but sparingly, for their hearts were full of joy and their minds full of hope. But they could not help noticing that at a table not far from them there was a party of four young men whose behaviour, from being quiet and gentlemanly at the outset, as bottle after bottle of champagne was emptied became boisterous and rude. Presently it became evident that their attention was entirely directed to the table where our friends sat, and as their voices grew louder and louder the epithet “nigger” was frequently heard. Mr. Stewart and Mrs. Adams heard all too clearly, but C. B. was quite unmoved, for although he heard the uproar he did not understand its import. At last one of the roysterers rose and shouted for the head waiter, who came instantly; whereupon the young man demanded to know why a nigger, coupling the word with other abuse, was allowed to dine in the same room with white men.
The head waiter endeavoured to explain, but as he did so the other three joined in the talk, which grew louder and louder until the proprietor wasbrought up by one of the other waiters. By this time Mr. Stewart was fully alive to what was going on, as was his daughter, and Mary whispered her father that they might slip away. But there was a dangerous look in the old man’s eyes now and he indignantly repudiated the suggestion. Then C. B. leaned over and asked him whatever could be the matter, and how the broil at another table could affect them. Stewart looked straight at him for a moment and then said—
“The wine has got into their foolish heads, and they are discussing you as a nigger who has no right to dine in the same room as them. And if I know the signs, unless the proprietor is a man of grit, there’s going to be big trouble.”
He had hardly uttered the words before a big raw-boned youth sprang to his feet and shouted—
“It’s an outrage to have to sit in the same room with a nigger, and you are a beast to allow it. But I’m going to have him out of it as you haven’t got the grit, and so here goes.”
With that the crazy creature leapt across the room knocking his chair half a dozen feet away, and seized the unconscious C. B. by the collar and arm, at the same time yelling foul abuse. There was a shriek from Mary, but her father held her arm as she was about to spring to her husband’s rescue.
“Keep quiet,” he said, “this is where your husband comes in.”
Indeed it was, for C. B., as quietly as if he had been invited to look at something, rose from his seat and winding his arms around the frantic youth placed him helpless on the floor. This unexpected defeat of their champion enraged the other three, who rushed to the rescue, but were in their turn, attacked by the waiters, who at the proprietor’s bidding charged onthem in force, and succeeded in overpowering them.
Then C. B. lifted his prostrate enemy into a chair, and holding him with one hand as if he had been a child waited while Mr. Stewart said—
“You shameless brutes to behave like this. Lucky for you that the English gentleman you’ve attacked is as good a Christian as you are bad citizens, or some of you would have been broken all up. You Americans! I know ye by the back, and you’re a lot of dirt that brings shame upon the name of American. Take ’em away,” he said to the waiters, “and put ’em on the pavement. It isn’t worth having them arrested, for better folks than them would be hurt. Now, sir,” turning to the proprietor who stood looking anxious, “what do you think of this?”
“Well, sir,” replied the proprietor, “I think you and your son-in-law and his wife had better go as soon as ever you can. You see I’ve got my living to get and I can’t run counter to public opinion. I’ve no doubt that Mr. Adams is a perfect gentleman, but he is a bit dark, and, well, I needn’t explain to you, you know all about it. I shall be glad if you’ll go to-night, for I don’t think you’d like to hurt a man that hasn’t harmed you.”
Stewart gave him a look of withering contempt, and then bidding C. B. and his daughter see to their packing went out, returning in half an hour with the news that he had secured rooms in a good family hotel, and concealing the fact that he had arranged for them to have their meals in private during their stay. An hour later saw them transferred, Mr. Stewart saying to the proprietor as he took his leave: “I bear you no ill will, my friend, but if you knew the kind of man you’ve turned out of your house to-nightyou’d be sorry for having done so. He’s worth a whole city full of such empty-headed dregs as those who insulted him.”
“I fully believe it, Mr. Stewart,” answered the man, “but there’s no sentiment in business, and I can’t afford to shut my hotel up because the presence of a good man in it is objected to. In fact we hotel proprietors make our living mostly out of the bad men, and we must look after their interest or go out of the business.”
Stewart was so angry that he could not answer, and as soon as possible they left those inhospitable walls and took up their quarters in their new abode, feeling, if the truth be told, almost like fugitives from justice. Then when they had settled down they began to think about getting away, and for the first time since they had known him C. B. began to show signs of enthusiasm. It was no easy matter to find any vessel that was going near their destination, but at last they heard of a large Boston barque that was bound to Sydney, New South Wales, with kerosene oil in cases, and they went down to see her. She was a fine powerful vessel of about 1,300 tons, but by no means intended to carry passengers. But like most ships of her type she had been built with due regard to the comfort of her officers as far as accommodation went, and in her roomy saloon there were two cabins vacant which Mr. Stewart and C. B. pronounced to be just the thing for them.
So they arranged a passage to Sydney for the three of them for four hundred dollars, the captain, a shrewd down-easter by the name of Eldridge, agreeing to lay in extra stores so that they should fare well on the long passage. Also Mr. Stewart decided to have the cabins comfortably fitted up, for they looked very bare, and having made hisarrangements and learned that theJulia D. Southwas to sail in ten days’ time they returned to their temporary home well pleased with their day’s work.
To Mr. Stewart’s earnest inquiries C. B. replied that he could give a list of everything that was most needed by his friends on the island, for as Mr. Stewart said, it would look mean to go there, intending to stay for life, empty handed, especially when coming from a land where all the necessaries as well as the luxuries of life could be so readily procured. So for the next few days C. B. and his wife were very busily engaged collecting goods to take with them and having them carefully packed for sending to the ship. And when at last the sailing day came they went on board with the full assurance that nothing had been forgotten, and that they were besides as well equipped for the long passage before them as it was possible for them to be.
C. B. as the time drew near for leaving America grew steadily more lively and happy looking, indeed, as his wife said affectionately, he seemed quite transformed. Her spirits rose with his, for she had been somewhat depressed at the near prospect of leaving the land of her birth as she felt for ever. In spite of her deep and true love for her husband and the certainty she felt that she could know no happiness apart from him, such feelings were perfectly natural and to be expected. But when she saw how sedately happy her father seemed to be, and how bright her husband was, she resolutely put aside all regrets and determined henceforth to look forward only.
Punctually to the day theJulia D. Southcast off her moorings and in tow of a small tug went swiftly seaward, her three passengers standing on the monkey poop and watching the fast receding shores with keen interest. C. B., however, was not longbefore all his attention was claimed by the working of the ship. It seemed to him so very long since he had taken his part in what had become his profession that he watched with keenest appreciation every bit of work done, his fingers itching to have a share in it. At last, at the hoisting of the topsails, he could restrain himself no longer, seeing how great a task it was for her numerically weak crew, and rushing along to the halyards he caught hold high above the hands of the two men who were pulling before the block, and in an instant they felt the benefit of his vigorous assistance.
Then he forgot all about his being a passenger and to his wife and Mr. Stewart’s unfeigned amusement joined in heart and soul with the crew at their work, making his presence most helpfully felt in everything he touched. As he was doing so the skipper drew near Mr. Stewart and his daughter, saying—
“Our friend’s been a sailor man, I should say, from the way he handles himself!”
“You may well say that,” replied Mr. Stewart. “He was a boat steerer or harponeer in a South Sea whaler, and according to what his old skipper said the very best in the ship. I’ve never seen him at his work before, but judging from what I know of him I should say he would be extra good at anything he undertook. He’s that kind of a man, isn’t he, dear?”
“Indeed he is,” replied Mary, “and oh, I’m so glad that he’s found something that he likes to do. I know how he has been suffering for exercise lately.”
When presently C. B. rejoined them, looking with an air of comic ruefulness at his hands, they roasted him unmercifully for forgetting his dignity as acuddy passenger at which he only smiled and replied—
“See what a lazy life does for a man. My hands have got that soft that it is most painful for me to hold a rope. They feel as if they were all red hot.” And the skipper, who was listening, laughed loudly before he remarked that it sounded so familiar to him who had suffered much in the same way himself.
They had an excellent slant of wind right from the start, which was most fortunate, for the crew were a poor lot and needed licking into shape according to Yankee ideas before they were fit to do all that was required of them. This same drilling hurt C. B. horribly, but recognizing his position he did not venture to interfere in any way, even when his gentle wife expressed her indignation at the harsh treatment the men were receiving. After all, as he explained to her, there was little real cruelty, it was little more than drill, though he thought unnecessarily harsh, and he told her of several incidents on board theEliza Adamswhich amazed her.
So that by the time they had reached the equator she was a smart ship and C. B. with his willing hands, his ready smile and his perfect habit of non-interference except to help with his great strength was a highly popular favourite fore and aft. But I regret to say that he was also taken as soft because of his unfailing good humour, looked upon as a man you might safely impose upon, and many were the sarcastic remarks passed upon the hard luck as they called it of his wife, to be tied to a man who seemed to be utterly devoid of pluck, although they put it much more coarsely after the manner of seamen. The two aspects in which he was regarded seemed contradictory, I know, but I have had much experience of similar cases I am sorry to say.
But the worst offender was the captain. When once a sailing ship is well started on a long passage the life of her master, unless he be a man with a good hobby of some kind, is a very lazy one. He has literally nothing to do except find the ship’s position at noon each day, and I have often wondered how it is that our sailing ship masters having so much time on their hands have not turned out a number of famous literary men from their ranks instead of being represented as they are, but by one giant, and he a foreigner, Mr. Joseph Conrad. In captain Eldridge’s case the old adage about Satan’s opportunity for idle hands held good, and he began to amuse himself by paying assiduous court to Mrs. Adams, yet in so polite and insidious a manner that only her feminine wit divined his true intent; even her father, immersed in books, tryin’ to catch up on to his readin’ as he termed it, failed to notice anything wrong. And Mary could do nothing, for she had nothing definite to complain of, and she did not wish to make any unpleasantness.
C. B. went on his happy way, spending much of his time at work and not noticing in the least that he was leaving his beloved wife too much to the attentions of the skipper. Indeed his true and honest mind was clear and incapable of suspicion, and had any one hinted their ideas of the wrong drift of things he would have been unspeakably shocked as well as amazed. And so the clouds thickened insensibly about them as the good ship sped on.
Many harsh and ignorant things have been written concerning the masters of ships, principally, I think, because of the crimes committed by a few of them. Therefore I feel that it ought to be plainly stated that, remembering the temptation a shipmaster in a sailing ship on a long voyage is subjected to daily, it speaks well for human nature in general, and for seafarers in particular, that those crimes have been so few, so very few in proportion to the number of individuals who have been tempted to the commission of them. It is too often forgotten by those who ignorantly write upon this subject how free from all restraint save that of his own conscience is the master of a sailing ship at sea on a long passage. If he be a cruel, brave bully and tyrant—and believe me the bully isnotalways a coward as is generally supposed—he finds abundant opportunity to gratify his propensities and is almost sure of immunity from retribution when the vessel reaches port from the well-known careless character of his victims.
Where he has a few passengers another side of him may develop, as with Captain Eldridge, a side that must be touched very lightly upon but which all will understand, and many have been the tragedies resulting from his lack of gentlemanly self-restraint. And in the present case all the indications pointedto a tragedy fast approaching as the captain, encouraged by the apparently entire indifference of the two male passengers, pressed his unwelcome attentions daily with more perseverance upon the young wife. She, poor girl, took great care never to be alone; when her father remained in his cabin she remained in hers, C. B. being always fully occupied with work among the seamen. But Captain Eldridge lay in wait for her, and as soon as she appeared on deck with her father he took all sorts of interest in placing chairs, getting wraps, etc., and then when they were settled seating himself by the lady’s side and paying her all sorts of odious compliments in a low voice while ogling her in a peculiarly bold and insolent manner.
With all the desire in the world to keep the peace and natural fear of the consequences of any action being taken on her part, Mary felt that she must do something soon. She could not ask her husband to remain with her always, for she loved to see him exercising his mighty limbs at really hard work, and knew how much he felt the need of exercise. Not only so, but she hated to disturb his quiet serenity of mind by the hideous suggestion that the captain was paying assiduous court to his wife, and besides she had nothing definite to go upon, even her father would have been unable to substantiate a complaint.
Presently the matter was taken out of her hands in a quite unexpected manner. The chief mate, a very keen young Philadelphian named Haynes, keeping his eye upon his chief as all mates do, was disgusted to see how Mrs. Adams was persecuted by him. He himself scarcely ever had a chance to speak to her, and there may well have been a spice of jealousy in his mind, but in any case he was very angry with his skipper and contemptuous ofC. B.’s want of perception. Yet he had grown very fond of C. B., as indeed everybody had but the skipper, and the more he grew to like him the less could he understand his apparent neglect of his wife, leaving her to be pestered continually by the skipper.
At last he could restrain himself no longer, and calling C. B. into his berth one afternoon watch below, he said, after fidgeting about a bit—
“Look here, old man, I’ve got very fond of you—I believe you’re about as good as they make ’em, but I’m hanged if I can understand how you allow Eldridge to persecute your wife as he does. He never lets her alone. And if you had any eyes in your head you’d see how peaky she’s gettin’ with all the worry of it. I don’t want to make trouble, I’ve got my living to get, but I honestly couldn’t see this cruel game going on any longer without warnin’ you, as you don’t seem able to see a hole through a ladder.” And all the time the mate was speaking he watched C. B.’s face. It showed no signs of change except that the lips tightened up a bit and the dark eyes glowed with a sombre fire. At last he spoke.
“Thank you very much, Haynes, I’ll see to it at once. I’m afraid I am guilty of neglect, and I can never forgive myself for being so selfish. I thought she was happy with her books and her work and her father, and that I was pleasing her by working about the ship. I didn’t dream of anything of this kind happening. But,” and he rose, holding out his hand, “I’m very grateful to you, Haynes, for your warning, which I’m going to act upon now.” And he strode out of the cabin, Haynes watching him with a queer sensation of wonder as to how the storm would burst, for burst it would he felt sure.
C. B. went straight to his cabin, but his wife was not there. From thence he ascended to the deck, where he saw, as if it had been arranged for him, a tableau such as the mate had been speaking about. There was his father-in-law asleep with an open book in his hand in one deck chair, his wife in another next to the old gentleman, and seated on a cushion at her feet the skipper, whose face, distinctly visible to C. B.’s eagle vision from where he was, bore an expression entirely evil. His wife’s face he could not see, but he went quickly towards her, saying—
“Mary, dear, will you come down for a moment, I want to speak to you.”
She rose immediately, turning towards him as she did so, and he saw that her dear face was pale and drawn and that her eyes were full of tears. Choking down the awful wrath he felt rising within him at the sight, he assisted her into their cabin, closed the door, and said—
“Mary, dear, forgive me, I never dreamed of neglecting you, but I see that I have. And I fear that I have subjected you to persecution of a very bad kind. Tell me, dear, what has the captain done?”
She looked doubtfully at him for a moment as if wondering what the outcome would be, but she was too much akin to him in soul to palter with the truth through fear, so she said—
“Dear love, he has been very offensive for some time now. His actual words have had little meaning in them for me, though I know they all had a double intention, but his eyes and his looks generally have filled me with horror. I have felt again and again that I must tell you, but, dear one, I dreaded a scene, I find I don’t know you well enough even yet, and then there was nothing actually to complain about except his looks. Buthe certainly has made me very unhappy, and there could be no mistake as to his meaning.”
Again C. B. said with grave penitence—
“Forgive me, dear, I had not imagined that men could be so vile. I suppose to them I must look like a semi-idiot. However, you shall have no more of this. I will go to him now.”
The captain was just then coming down into his stateroom whistling dreamily, and C. B., following him to the door, said—
“I should like a few words with you, Captain Eldridge.”
“Oh!” returned the skipper insolently, “what about?”
“About your behaviour to my wife, which, I’m sorry to say, has been entirely rude and distressing to her, making her feel quite ill. It has I find been a topic of general conversation in the ship, but I, being exceedingly unsuspicious and never dreaming that a gentleman could behave so, have left her more than I ought to have done, and you have taken advantage of this simplicity of mine to behave as you have. Now my eyes are opened, I tell you this must cease.”
While C. B. was speaking Captain Eldridge’s face grew almost livid with rage, his eyebrows contracted until they met across the bridge of his nose, and as soon as C. B. had finished he snarled out—
“Looky here, Mr. Educated Coon, I’ll allow no nigger to talk to me like that on board my ship, and if you open your head to me again on the subject, I’ll shoot ye: understand that. Now get out o’ my stateroom an’ keep yer squaw out o’ my way.”
C. B. retreated, keeping his eyes fixed upon the scoundrel, who doubtless at that moment wouldhave carried out his threat, so mad was he. As soon as C. B. reached his cabin, where he was awaited by his wife, he entered, closed the door and fell upon his knees, crying in agony of soul, “Lord, keep my hands, keep my temper, save me from doing wrong. Don’t let that man try me beyond endurance, and see right done.”
Then he sprang up, calm again, and told his wife all that had happened, only leaving out the opprobrious epithet applied to her by the captain. As soon as he had done so he went on deck and sought Mr. Stewart, to whom he told the story. The old gentleman listened with compressed lips and lowering brows until it was finished, then said with a sigh, “Well, I guess we’re in the hands of a deep-dyed scoundrel, and we shall not have much of a gaudy time from this out. Now we shall all have to learn from you how to bring God into all our troubles, or else feel pretty miserable.”
Indeed he was right, for from thenceforth no indignity that it was in Captain Eldridge’s power to inflict upon them was omitted. He really seemed as if he laid awake at night thinking over new ways of annoying them. And the poor wretch did not know that only by constant prayer and watchfulness did C. B. restrain himself from slaying him with his bare hands. Coincidently with this development another arose. Every member of the crew knew of what had happened in the mysterious way that news spreads on board ship, and especially resented the way in which the skipper continually vented his wrath and disappointment upon them. Not only the foremast hands but the officers were thus disaffected, and undoubtedly the ship was getting fully ripe for mutiny.
Every time that C. B. came on deck it seemed asif the skipper was waiting for him, and insults and provocations came thick and fast. With his hand in his hip pocket where his revolver lay, the dastard (for a man must be a dastard who insults and abuses an unarmed man, having himself a lethal weapon) would hurl every epithet of contumely that he could invent at the great fellow, who took not the slightest notice of him until one day, maddened by the contemptuous silence as he deemed it of the passenger, he hurled a foul and filthy insult at Mary. With a leap like a tiger’s C. B. was upon him in spite of the quick shots fired, had torn the revolver from his grip and flung it overboard, and then, forcing him to his knees, said in a voice that was terrible in its deep calm—
“You bad man, you don’t know how near you have been to hell. Abuse me all you care to, it’s better than praise from a man like you; but if you value your life, don’t say a syllable against the good woman who is my wife. She is no subject for your foul lips.”
With that C. B. released him and he staggered to his feet, all his crew looking on at his discomfiture. If there be a greater punishment for a man than he then endured without possibility of retaliation I do not know of it. He had no second revolver, or he would assuredly have gone and loaded it and laid for C. B., and shot him from some secure hiding-place, after the most approved American methods. He staggered into his cabin, shouted for his steward, and when that trembler appeared, he said—
“Go an’ get a revolver from either Mr. Haynes’ cabin or Mr. Fisher’s (the second mate), I don’t care which; but get me one or I’ll smash yer face in.”
The steward fled on deck and, seeing the mate, almost screamed—
“Oh, Mr. Haynes, the skipper wants yer revolver, says he’ll kill me if I don’t get it for him. I believe he’s gone mad. Oh dear, oh dear, whatever I’ll do I don’t know.”
The mate’s face darkened, and, turning contemptuously away from the steward, he went below and rapped sharply at the skipper’s stateroom door.
“Come in,” was snapped at him, and pushing back the door he looked in at the skipper, who was standing like a wolf at bay.
“What you want?” he snarled, and the mate replied—
“I understand you sent the steward to search my room for my revolver. Now see here, what’s in that room’s mine, and don’t you dare to meddle with it or there’ll be bigger trouble than you want. I’m at your service on deck, but my room’s mine and no man’s coming into it without my leave.” With that the mate turned on his heel and made for the deck again.
Now although the atmosphere seemed surcharged with electricity nothing happened. Stewart and his daughter both implored C. B. to be very wary and careful of the skipper, but he smiled placidly as usual, and replied that a greater care than he could exercise was being manifested for all of them: and went on his usual way.
They were now getting down into the “roaring Forties,” and the stern weather characteristic of those immense southern spaces had set in. Needless to say the vessel was handled in seamanlike fashion, because she was a Yankee clipper, and it is not possible to imagine them being handled otherwise. So as the great west wind rushed out of its lair,they trimmed their yards to it, set up preventer backstays, swayed up all halyards and tautened all sheets, while the beautiful craft, like a high-mettled steed, laid herself down to her mighty race over the six-thousand-mile course.
Great was the temptation to C. B. to help in these hard doings, to join in the work when she was shipping green seas over all, but he dared not leave his wife again for one minute, for he feared what the malevolent ingenuity of the skipper might effect. And he dared not trust his father-in-law, who seemed to have developed a strange habit for him of reading himself off to sleep at any hour of the day. It looked as if the stimulus of money getting having been removed, he was sinking into a lethargy from which it would need something very urgent to arouse him. And as he was only sixty-two that was a bad sign.
Eastward, at three hundred miles a day, the good ship sped, the wind and sea holding steady and true. C. B. and his wife watched her flying over the immense combers with unconquerable energy, not lightly as the sprite-like wanderers of the ocean that floated above, but as if in full crashing triumph over all obstacles and dangers. Neither of them had ever such an experience before, but it appealed most to C. B., whose recollections of the leisurely movements of the old whaler were entirely at variance with this wonderful utilization of the wind’s power. Hour after hour they would sit watching the beautiful fabric, noting every forceful bound and lurch, their ears attuned to the great sea music, the blended chorus of wind and sea and ship all working amicably together, but all strung up to concert pitch of highest energy.
Never since that remarkable day when C. B.disarmed him had the skipper made a sign of either enmity or friendship—he had simply ignored their presence on board. But this unnatural quiet had the effect of making C. B. doubly watchful because he could not understand it, and he lived as we say a dog’s life, that is, he always seemed to have one eye open: which for a man with a poor physique and weak nerves would have been fatal, but had little or no effect upon this perfectly healthy and natural man. Still, there was one thing which troubled him, the absolute disregard of attention to the boats. As an ex-whaleman, of course, he had to look upon the boats as being always in readiness. Pretty they certainly looked, with their sword-mat gripes and their gaily painted covers, but how they were to be got out puzzled him, for there were no davits shipped.
And when he mentioned his fears to the mate, who in utter defiance of the skipper continually chummed up with him, that worthy said—
“Well, I guess it’s about the same in all merchant ships of all nations; we don’t go much on boats because we ain’t got much confidence in ’em. I know there have been boat voyages that make you gasp as you read about them, but you take the average sailor and he don’t think much of boats. And I’m a pretty average sailor too.”
This did not content C. B., but he kept his ideas to himself, saying that bad as the skipper might be, he was a No. 1 seaman, and that it was most unlikely that any harm could come to the ship.
And no one seemed to remember the nature of the cargo!
That was why, I suppose, when during the second dog-watch of a particularly strenuous day, when the ship was doing fully fifteen knots an hour on hercourse, nobody took any notice of C. B.’s remark that there was a smoky lamp somewhere. His keen scent had noticed it but none of the others could, being used moreover to the unpleasant fumes emitted by a kerosene lamp when it is turned down too low. Still, every now and then he would utter his complaint, until suddenly there was a cry from forrard that quickened the heart-beats of the listeners—
“There’s smoke comin’ up the forehatch.”
And everybody remembered that the ship had 164,000 cases of kerosene stowed in her hold, realized that they were in the midst of the stormiest, remotest ocean in the world, afloat upon a volcano due to burst, and quailed. No blame to any of them. From the outside we may pass judgment upon what men do in such crises, but we should be chary of so doing: it is an awful test of manhood.
The mate rose to the occasion. “Call all hands!” he cried, “and pass the hose along.” Then he sought the skipper and reported to him, at the same time reminding him of the state of the boats. The skipper received the news in the same curious, careless way that he had treated everything of late, but to the mate’s remark about the boats he made no reply whatever. This angered the mate, who repeated the remark in a raised tone and asked for orders concerning them. In a strange, unnatural voice the captain replied that he could do what he liked, it would not matter. Of what use were boats here, and he waved his hand around over the desperate sea. For a moment the mate hesitated, then shouting—“I can’t waste time with you,” he rushed forrard, intending to give orders to have the boats cleared, when he saw C. B. and two handsworking away at them, the rest being busy at the forehatch with a monkey pump.
It was a sad business but heroic in the extreme, that little group of men engaged in the hopeless task of trying to subdue the flames below among that terrible cargo, and aft one of their number steadily pursuing his task of steering the doomed ship on her course through the darkness. Suddenly the mate roared—
“Drop those buckets and get the boats clear, what’s the use of wasting work?” and, obedient to his cry, all hands rushed to the boats, realizing in a dazed sort of way what the neglect of this slender chance of life might mean. But C. B. and his two companions had toiled at the biggest boat on the skids to good advantage, for they already had her clear, her gear all sorted out and water put in her.
Then C. B., hurriedly whispering to his helpers to get such food as they could out of the cabin, caught up his wife and placed her in the stern of the boat. Next he settled his father-in-law by her side and bade them remain where they were. They obeyed him implicitly, for at that moment he seemed to them to be gifted with amazing power and foresight. But he was at his wits’ end because the ship was still running before the gale like a hunted thing, and the very act of heaving her to, that is, bringing her round to the wind and stopping her way, was fraught with the utmost danger, yet it had to be done if the boats were to be launched. And the captain made no sign.
At last the mate, able to bear it no longer, rushed off to where the captain stood by the helmsman, and shouted so as to be heard above the roar of the gale—
“We’ve only moments left; the fire may burst up through all hatches at once at any time now.”
“All right,” said the skipper wearily, as if the matter did not concern him very much.
“All, all hands to shorten sail.” He had hardly uttered the words when with a roar that dumbed the gale a column of fire burst upwards from the fore hatch as wide as that opening and as high as the topsail yards. The man at the wheel, paralysed at the sight, let the spokes slip from his nerveless grasp, and the vessel gave a tremendous sheer up into the wind. She was of course carrying a press of canvas, and the weight of it caught aback, heeled her over, until she was on her beam ends. One gigantic sea towered above her like a wall, then swept down and tore everything movable from her decks over the lee side which was now under water.
C. B. standing by the boat in which was all that he held dear felt her heel and saw the sea coming. He clutched at the boat’s gunwale just as the wave overwhelmed the ship, and was swept with her out and away into the tormented sea, clinging with all his great strength to her as she went. Presently he found the strain upon his arms ease, realized that the boat was still afloat, and climbed into her. She was half full of water, but his dear ones were still safe cowering in the stern sheets. He uttered a fervent, “Thank God!” and feeling all his vigour return got an oar out and tried to get the boat’s head round before the sea so that she would ride easier. But it was an impossible task for one man, however strong and skilful, and he realized it directly, resigning himself to the mercy of God. But full of hope even then.
He had just settled down by the side of his wife and grasped her clammy hand when the whole of thewild heavens were lit up by a tremendous glare, in which every detail of the ship close at hand was manifest, an awful though a glorious sight. For the space of a couple of minutes the mighty mass of flames soared heavenwards, lighting up the whole expanse and revealing the heaving waste of ocean all dotted with wreckage. But it showed also that the sea was smoothened greatly, as was inevitable from the enormous quantity of oil which had been liberated. C. B. did not think of the cause of this relief, but he seized the opportunity to get the mast stepped and the jib set by means of which he could keep the boat under control. And within the next five minutes before the glare died down and the last sign of the ship disappeared, three men were rescued from the watery wild around, the mate, the cook, and one seaman. Then the light went out and darkness most profound swallowed them up.
Throughout that terrible night the boat, managed with consummate skill by C. B., rode gallantly and easily over the tremendous billows. But the strain of watching was intense, and when day dawned at last on the tormented breadths of ocean the effect of it upon C. B. was painfully manifest. Nestling side by side at his feet were his wife and her father, sheltered as well as was possible, and marvellous to state, sleeping soundly. The rescued men, however, did not appear to have been able to sleep, they knew the danger too well, and besides, they were in a miserable plight with wet and cold. Bad as they were, however, Mr. Haynes, looking at C. B. and noting the effect that his ceaseless watch had had upon him, at once offered to relieve him at the helm so that he could rest a little if sleep was impossible. Very gratefully C. B. accepted his offer, handed the tiller to him, and slipping down by the side of hiswife had only just time to murmur a few words of thanks when he fell fast asleep.
When he awoke the weather had become finer, and Haynes had managed to get the mainsail set with a couple of reefs in it, so that something of a course to the northward could be made. There were still heavy masses of clouds marching swiftly up from the west, and occasionally obscuring the pale blue that looked so hopeful, and the waves were still huge and threatening, but the boat was now making good progress without shipping any water to speak of, and the sun diffused some warmth through their chilled frames. So that as C. B. looked around he felt a great wave of thankfulness surge over him, and kneeling he invited all hands to join with him in praising God for their wonderful deliverance. Very solemnly and heartily they all agreed, and some of them for the first time in their lives honestly and unreservedly recognized God as the Lord by praising him for that their lives had been spared.
Then a meal was taken, the provisions having been examined and apportioned with the utmost care, and Mary looking up into her husband’s face with eyes of deepest affection, said—
“Only to think, Christmas, that so short a time ago we were your patrons, showing off the power of wealth, I’m afraid, and now we are like little children in your hands.” And Mr. Stewart chimed in laconically—
“I guess it’s good for a man to get down to the beginning of things occasionally. I ain’t a bit comfortable, nor I wouldn’t be here if I could help it, but somehow I feel glad to think I am here and getting along almost as well as the next man.”
And C. B., refreshed in body as well as exalted inmind, raised his voice in the grand strains of “Oh God of Bethel by whose hand,” to the manifest wonder of all his companions, but also to their exceeding comfort.