"I think, take them all together, we have a rather stupid set of passengers, this trip, don't you, Mr. Allyne?"
"I don't know," returned the attaché, "are they? Fact is, I haven't made much headway with the ladies yet, but the men are jolly enough in the smoking-room—without being too jolly, you understand."
"Oh, of course; they are mostly gentlemen, I presume. Indeed I've scarcely noticed them, myself"—"Ah! Mrs. Campbell!"—"with a few exceptions of course," giving him an effective glance. "But the girls are not much to boast of. That Miss Vanderhoff is positively homely."
"Do you think so? I know she has no special beauty to attract one, but she looks bright and good-tempered, I'm sure, and I like her voice, don't you?"
"Not too well. Those American voices are not to my taste. They threaten my ear-drums."
"Do you call hers sharp, though, Mrs. Campbell? It's clear, I know, and decided, but——"
She waved the subject aside, as if it were not worth discussing longer, and asked,
"What do you think of the twinnies?"
Her tone, though laughingly contemptuous, was gentleness itself, and young Allyne looked up, rather puzzled.
"Why, they seem nice, sweet girls; don't you think so?"
"One can't always tell by looks," was the ambiguous reply, and then she began to laugh, as if in great amusement over some recollection.
Meanwhile the Windemere girls and the traveler had turned and were listening, as Mrs. Campbell meant they should.
"What pleases you, Zaidee?" asked Laura, the older, settling her eyeglasses anew, the better to gaze at her friend.
"Oh, an amusing incident that occurred last night. I happened to see a part, and easily drew the rest out of Mr. Frazer by adroit questioning, for, I assure you, it made me curious."
Mr. Frazer was the purser, and the one who had stood talking withCaptain Hosmer when Hope ran out to him, the night before.
"What is it?" asked both girls in a breath, and the traveler added, with a laugh,
"Yes, indeed, if any one knows anything funny on shipboard it is a bounden duty to tell it."
"Well, I hardly know whether you could call this funny, or tragic—perhaps serio-comic is the word," returned Mrs. Campbell in her smooth little drawl, with its expression of amused indifference, which always stimulated the interest of the listener. "It was exciting, anyhow. Somewhere well along towards midnight, last evening, a certain young lady—a mere girl indeed—was promenading the deck with a strange young man, when her sister, probably knowing the girl's propensities, rose from her bed, rushed out to her father, who was at his post,"—she cast an eye upward towards the bridge—"and begged of him to 'save sister,' upon which, rather sternly, he marched her back to her cabin and, hunting up the other one, took her from her escort and led her inside also, where I imagine there was a scene. At any rate the stewardess was busy in there for some time, and when I asked what had happened, she said, 'Only hysterics, ma'am; they're common enough.' But as I happened to know where she was, and what had just happened, I did not treat the matter so lightly. Of course it was an exaggeration of the other girl, but it showed that some people who seem very innocent will bear looking after. Too bad that pretty girls must spoil everything by being vain and—well, careless! But the two I mention are very unconventional."
The Windemeres, mother and daughters, listened with groans of horror, the attaché with a troubled look, and the traveler with a gravity that was almost stern. Quite unnoted by the absorbed group, another also heard, for Lady Moreham, seemingly absorbed in a book and hidden by some projection of the deck, had dropped the volume and was scowling savagely. She was not taken with these young women, for at first they had distinctly snubbed her, and later, having learned her title, had so suddenly changed to fawning and flattery that she was thoroughly disgusted.
After an instant the traveler spoke abruptly,
"Do you say you heard and saw thisyourself, Mrs. Campbell?"
"A part of it—yes, sir." How small a part she did not mention. "The rest was made comprehensible by Mr. Frazer's explanation."
"I cannot believe that one of the ship's officers would speak ill of the captain's daughters, madam—and that you refer to them we all understand."
"Speak ill? Oh, he did not—and who has, indeed? Ill? What can you mean? I merely mentioned it as a funny, melodramatic sort of performance, just like a foolish little girl. Of course there was nothing really out of the way, only a bit of imprudence—and without a mother, or chaperone, what can one expect?"
"You speak of what I was about to mention; they have no mother. That is enough to make any older woman feel it her motherly duty to guard and counsel them, I'm sure," was the calm reply. "We all must agree on that."
"Yes, indeed!" ventured Mrs. Windemere in her small voice. "Poor young things."
"I don't think they seem to need your pity, mother!" cried Janet sharply, looking across at the merry group, in which were the Hosmer sisters. "Not in that way, at any rate."
"And," added Mrs. Campbell with an exaggerated drawl, "we who are not of an age to look upon them in a motherly light may not appreciate all those feelings. They amuse me, to be sure, but I had scarcely thought of adopting them."
"Nor their father, either?" put in the attaché clumsily, hoping to raise a laugh and dispel the thunder in the air. But he only drew the lightning upon himself. She gave him one look that silenced him, and, lifting the fan in her lap, said languidly,
"How very warm it is! Strange how little the most of us understand the necessity of fitting our conversation to the weather, if we would be agreeable. Discussions and personalities, if ever allowable, are only suited to a zero temperature. Have you noticed the flying-fish, this morning? How delightful it must be to plunge into that cool water to-day! I wonder if they fly out into the heat just for the fun of cooling off afterwards?"
"Quite a suggestion, Mrs. Campbell!" laughed the traveler. "I believe I'll try it," and, bowing lightly, with a flash of the eyes that met her own in quick defiance, he turned away.
As he passed around the bulkhead screening Lady Moreham, she rose and said in a low voice,
"I want to thank you! Many a life has been ruined by base insinuations. A vain woman's tongue is a merciless weapon. I like the little sisters, and believe them pure-hearted children. It was wicked!"
He bowed.
"I agree with you, my lady. But you see they are monopolizing the attention to-day, which is a social crime!" and, with a sarcastic smile, he passed on.
Meanwhile, undreaming of this "capful of wind" that might become a tornado, our girls thoroughly enjoyed themselves in a lively, wholly unsentimental way, pleased with the company and their own happy youth; and not suspecting that in this same soft, silky atmosphere which breeds both the exquisite Paradise-bird and the deadly cobra, might be found, not only friendliness, but also that "envy, malice, and uncharitableness" which the honest-hearted are least able to guard against, in their utter lack of comprehension.
"Who wants to pitch gromets?" cried Dwight. (He pronounced it as if spelled "gruments," as most sea-going men do spell it, we believe, but let us follow the dictionary!) "Mr. Malcolm's offered a prize for the one that lands it square in the bucket the most times, and Uncle Dwight says he'll give a consolation prize to the poor wretch who doesn't hit it once."
"What's gromets?" asked young Donelson, springing up.
"Oh, don't you know?" said Hope. "Father used to play it with us when we were little—you know what the gromets themselves are, don't you?"
"Haven't an idea?"
"Why, rope rings—Dwight, Dwight! Isn't that one sticking out of your pocket? See how firm and neat it is!"
"Well, it's just pitching those into a bucket, set a long way off. If you can make it go into the bucket plump, it counts you 10; lodging anywhere on the edge or bail is 2, and inside the chalk ring drawn around the bucket is 1—at least, that's our game."
"And outside?"
"Of the ring? Oh, nothing at all; and five throws outside will put out till next innings. Each side has a certain number of trials, you see."
"Why, that's something like quoits."
"Well, so it is—sea quoits."
"That's easy, I'm sure."
"Oh is it? Wait till you try it!"
"You, see there's a special twist"—began Faith, but her sister stopped her.
"No, no, don't tell. Let him try it first; it's easy, you know!" and, laughing mischievously, she ran after Dwight.
Pretty soon two tawny boys appeared, one with an ordinary fire-bucket, such as are seen hung everywhere on shipboard, and the other with a cluster of rope rings hung on one arm. Behind them came Hope, with Mr. Malcolm and Dwight in tow, the former carrying a small blackboard; all in great good-humor over something.
"I am requested to announce," called out the steward in a high "lecture-hall voice," as Dwight named it, "that all those present who wish to pitch gromets are invited to join the game. Each side will select a captain; Huri and Tegeloo, here, will pick up the rings that go astray; I will chalk up the tally on this blackboard, and after the game is over the persons showing the biggest and smallest scores shall be given prizes by the captains of the winning and losing teams. Speak up for your captains, please!"
"Why not have the twin sisters?" called out Mr. Lawrence, and at the same instant a voice proposed, "Mrs. Campbell for one!"
But this suggestion was drowned in a shout of applause.
"Yes, yes, let it be the twins—the captain's daughters!" and so it was decided.
Blushing and beautiful, the girls stood up opposite each other, and began calling up their teams.
"Mrs. Vanderhoff," cried Hope.
"Lady Moreham," said Faith.
"Mrs. Poinsett."
"Mrs. Windemere."
"Miss Vanderhoff.
"Miss Windemere."
"Oh but see—see here!" laughingly protested Mr. Lawrence. "Is this fair play to us men? I want to join this game somehow, if—"
"Mr. Lawrence!" shouted Hope archly, showing her pretty teeth and dimples.
"Mr. Traveler!" quickly added Faith, only of course she gave the man's own distinguished name.
And so they proceeded, while, quite without intention but with no less offense, Mrs. Campbell and the young attaché were not called until the very last.
He sprang up eagerly enough, but she barely glanced around.
"Thanks," she drawled, "but it is too warm to play; don't you think so,Mr. Allyne?"
Now, the young fellow did not think so, by any means, but he felt it would be rude to leave the lady alone, and besides he would make an odd one on Faith's side. So he sank back into his chair again with a reluctant, "Much obliged, but I'll look on a while," and the game proceeded without them.
It was rather warm work, but luckily a breeze had arisen which somewhat cooled their flushed cheeks. Presently the captain strolled along and stood near, to watch the players, laughing silently as he noted the awkward work they made of it.
"Why don't you join us, Captain?" cried Mrs. Vanderhoff. "Come, Hope, call up your father," but Faith returned quickly,
"No, indeed! Papa can bucket it every time. It wouldn't be fair to our side at all."
"No, Captain," called Mr. Lawrence, who could not get the twist of the wrist that makes the square toss, and was in convulsions over his own awkwardness, "don't you come and show us up to ignominy by contrast. Your daughters are proficient enough to prove what their teacher may be, and I hate to be so outdone."
"I'm catching on, though, uncle Dwight—don't you see?" cried his nephew, and amid a shout of laughter Mr. Malcolm released the boy's gromet from the bucket-bail, remarking, "Catching on's the word, sir!" as he marked up a large 2 opposite the lad's name.
It was funny to watch the different ones, and Huri's eyes danced with enjoyment as he ran after the wilder tosses with swift feet. Timid Mrs. Windemere would advance to position, look all about in dazed fashion, gather her skirts closely as if about to breast a hurricane, then with a long breath would shut her eyes tightly, and surge forward—when the gromet would either drop ignobly at her feet, or go madly flying off to right or left, perhaps hitting poor little Tegeloo on the nose. Mr. Donelson assumed an airy indifference and a careless toss, and lo! the contrary thing went whirling between his feet, aft. Lady Moreham actually burst into laughter as, after careful aim in a judicial manner Mrs. Poinsett set hers spinning—and knocked Captain Hosmer's cap off, while all were convulsed as she, herself, after slow and accurate aiming, sent the ring square against poor Texas, chained to his perch, knocking him down and causing his hoarse and naughty comment, "You old fool!" in quick return.
So it went merrily on, the girls, Dwight, and the traveler making several half-scores, and the rest occasionally tallying. Mrs. Windemere had never succeeded in getting even the direction, when, after several throws, she took her position once more, protesting it was of no use, she did her side more harm than good.
"And remember, if you fail this time you'll be put out!" shouted Laura, somewhat cruelly.
The little lady looked distressed, but Faith leaned over and whispered quickly,
"Did you ever make tatting, Mrs. Windemere?"
"Why, yes, of course I have," surprisedly, wondering what tatting could have to do with the present game.
"Make believe you're throwing your shuttle and then let the gromet fly. Be quick and firm!" she added, pretending to fix a loose pin at the lady's throat. "Remember!"
Mrs. Windemere turned towards the goal with a helpless air, but obeyed, and heard a sort of gasp, then a shout that rent the air. She opened her eyes and looked around dazedly. Her gromet was in the bucket, and amid the wild cheering Mr. Malcolm was chalking up a 10 nearly a foot long. This gave the score to Faith's side and Mrs. Windemere was declared the prize winner.
Mr. Allyne could not resist the excitement and hurried up with his congratulations, while even Mrs. Campbell smiled and grew better natured as she, too, came forward and with graceful tact, of which she was a mistress, caught a ribbon from her waist, wound it about one of the gromets, and setting it lightly upon the victor's head led her to a chair.
"Behold our queen!" she shouted merrily, and all joined in the huzzas that followed, while little Mrs. Windemere, who had never received so much notice in her whole life, actually had to wipe the springing tears from her eyes.
Then Mr. Malcolm appeared with the prize, and what do you suppose it was? A lively young porker, nestled down in a lidded basket streaming with gay ribbons!
Amid shouts of laughter Faith gravely presented the prize, always referring to it delicately as "our hampered friend," in supposed reference to the basket, or perhaps, as Mr. Lawrence slyly remarked, "to the other quarters of the beast." She solemnly informed the winner that from time immemorial live prisoners had been considered specially acceptable gifts along the Mediterranean shores, and suggested that, if she should not know what to do with hers, she might be magnanimous, make a feast, and call her neighbors in, at which there was great cheering and clapping.
"Dear me!" said Mrs. Windemere, taking the piggy-wiggy, who really behaved quite well, only squealing occasionally by way of emphasis, "I never made a speech in my life, but I'm ever so much obliged, and I should be delighted to give you all a feast of roast pig, if our captain will furnish the cook and the extras."
"The ship, with all its men and stores, is at your disposal, madam," said Captain Hosmer, doffing his cap with a low bow.
"Then," cried the little lady, rising to the occasion, and looking really pretty with her pink cheeks and brightening eyes, "I invite you all, victors and vanquished, players and non-combatants, to dine on roast pig with Captain Hosmer and myself, to-night at seven o'clock."
"We accept!" came in a tremendous shout from deck-house to bow.
"And may Heaven have mercy on our digestions!" added Mrs. Campbell, rolling up her eyes in horror. "Roast pig in this weather!"
But Laura turned to her younger sister with enthusiasm.
"Do look at ma! Did you ever see her so bright and jolly? She looks downright pretty. She can hold her own better than I thought she could."
"You are seeing her under altogether new conditions, you know," said Mrs. Campbell sweetly, as she stepped off with light tread and non-committal face towards a merrily-laughing group, further on.
"Now, what did she mean by that?" asked Janet in a puzzled tone. "I do wish Zaidee wouldn't be so mysterious!"
"Mysterious?" snapped Laura, who was quicker than her sister. "Why not wish she needn't be so hateful?"
Yet she followed the woman, who could always lead in spite of her peculiar disposition, because of innate charm and tact.
They found the merriment to be over the fact that Mr. Lawrence had the smallest score, and must accept his own prize, already in the hands of Mr. Malcolm.
"Oh, that's too bad!" he cried, weary from his exertions and merriment. "Why rub it in so hard? Is it not enough to be beaten by these youngsters—must I also be made the laughing-stock of passengers and crew? Ah! 'tis indeed a cruelty to load a falling man!"
"Well, uncle, if you're going to quote Wolsey, keep on," laughed his niece mischievously. "'I charge thee fling away ambition!' You see you have soared too high, my lord."
"Et tu Brute?" He turned upon her quickly. "Well, well, 'complete my shame.' Where is the prize orator, anyhow?"
"Here, here!" called Hope, coming rapidly forward from a conference with Mr. Malcolm; and amidst a sudden hush she said in a gentle, serious tone, as if reluctantly discharging an imperative duty,
"The prize we have to offer you needs no explanation. As it is familiar to you I will only say it appropriately illustrates one word you have amply understood to-day, and that word is—whipped!"
She held aloft one of those clock-work toys one may pick up in Germany, or Switzerland—a severe dame in a flapping cap, with a youngster across her knee whom she vigorously belabors with a neat little bundle of switches. Mr. Lawrence took it with meek 'Thank you,' and amidst the laughter, explained,
"I bought the thing as an object-lesson for a friend at home who, does not believe in corporal punishment for her spoiled child, and to-day thought I would divert it to the purpose of a consolation prize for some of you fellows who couldn't pitch gromets. Like most people who dig a pit for others I have fallen into it myself! And now—may I give this to one of the babies? I never want to see it again."
"I think you may," laughed Hope, and a little curly-pate close by was made happy with the toy, which seemed destined to manifold uses.
"Well, it is almost time for the Lamb dinner," remarked Mr. Lawrence, late that afternoon, to the group about him under the awning of the after-deck, from which they were watching the sunset, some lounging in the easy steamer-chairs, others in the hammocks which had been stretched in every available space, and still others, among whom was Dwight, resting full length on the large Persian rug, which had been laid in the center of the deck planks. For the heat, and still, easy motion made every one lazy.
Upon hearing this remark the boy looked up.
"Lamb dinner? I thought it was pig this morning. It hasn't changed into sheep, I hope?"
"And must I really explain my observation to a lad about entering the High School?" cried his uncle reproachfully. "I'll warrant Bess knows—and somebody else, too!" catching the gleam in Hope's eye.
"Oh, yes, I understand, in a way," returned Bess. "Let's see, CharlesLamb, the writer, was very fond of roast pig, wasn't he?"
"Was he, Miss Hope?"
"Yes, sir, and wrote an essay upon it which has become a classic."
"Oh, of course! I'd almost forgotten that," put in Bess, hastily.
"And I'm free to confess I never knew it," added her brother. "Fact is, I begin to think I didn't learn much in school, anyhow—that is, much that I've needed since. I've picked up more about geography and history on this trip than all I ever learned there."
"No, no, not quite that, my boy! You simply have digested what then you only swallowed. Don't you know what Channing says—'It is not enough to cram ourselves with a great load of collections—we must chew them over again'? The fact is, nothing can ever be quite learned until it is experienced. I may be taught from a book that water expands in freezing, but I cannot realize that fact till I, sometime, leave water in a pitcher and find it broken next morning. Then I know, in a way never to be forgotten, about this scientific truth. So it is in geography; we have always taken in certain facts regarding the relative positions of land and water, mountain and plain, but if we had attempted to go anywhere, with absolutely no guide but memory, nine out of ten of us would be lost on the first stage of the journey. You are now simply assimilating what you learned at school, and making the facts, which you took on trust then, part and parcel of your actual experience now. It seems to me one of the best ways to study geography at home is to travel on paper. That comes nearest the real thing. Map out a route, buy your tickets (in imagination), take your conveyance, and on the way see everything possible to be gleaned from those eyes which have gone before, and left a record of their impressions. Try and think if you would see in the same way, and what else might be observed by quick eyes, natural to occur in that part of the globe. If one has imagination he may almost believe, in time, that he has really visited the places so studied.
"I knew a young fellow, once, who lived in an insignificant town in Vermont, and had never been fifty miles from home, yet who kept up such journeys for years, and many a time, in talking with him, I, the real traveler, would learn facts about certain localities where I had been, from him who never set foot near them. Just to prove him, once, I said, 'Are you acquainted with Salt Lake City?' 'Pretty well,' he answered modestly. Having spent a summer or two there, myself, I thought I would try and trip him up, so said, carelessly, 'When I stood in front of Brigham Young's Square and looked at that great town on my left'—but there he interrupted me, quick as a flash, 'You mean looked down upon the town at your right, don't you? Brigham's Square is on what is called the North Bench, and standing before it you must overlook the larger part of the city lying upon your right.' Of course this was correct, and I had to acknowledge that he really knew as much about many localities as I, who had visited them. But he was unusual."
"Well," said Dwight slowly, "what I have to complain of about travelers is that they don't tell the little things—the details, you know. I suppose it seems silly to them to say whether they went on board a steamer in a boat, or across a gangway, or up a flight of steps, or to describe just how a car looks when they travel by rail, but I used to wish they would. And when I write my book of travels I'm going to!"
"I would," said his sister encouragingly.
"Well, you wait! But say, uncle, there are some books in your library at home that you used to have when you were a boy, I reckon, for the pictures look about a century old, but I used to like to read them ever so much, and since I came abroad I've been finding out how well they describe the things that happen to a traveler even to-day. For instance, when you and I went from Cadiz to Ronda by diligence."
"Oh, you mean the Rollo books—Rollo's Tour in Europe?" laughed Mr. Lawrence. "How I did pore over those when I was a little boy! Yes, they do go into details, that's a fact. Somebody's advice to Rollo always to follow the crowd when bewildered at some great railway terminus often occurs to me, still, and is acted upon with perfect success."
"But don't you think travelers who write for publication sometimes draw the long bow a bit?" asked Lieutenant Carnegie in his diffident way.
"Oh, never!" cried a voice from the guardrail, and the Traveler held up a beseeching hand as he came forward. "Don't take away our reputation for veracity, I pray you! With the public's confidence lost to us what could we do? We are all truthful—even to Du Chaillu and Gulliver."
Every one laughed, and the young man, blushing a little, returned,
"Well, I was thinking especially of one or two I've read, lately. For instance, thirty miles a day is quite a tramp for an ordinary man on good level roads, without luggage; and when a traveler tells me he makes sixty over hills, or marshes, weighted down with camp supplies, who wasn't brought up a soldier, either, why, I just begin to compare it with my own experiences and say—"
"Hereliesa great man, don't you?" put in Dwight.
"Well, yes, that's about it."
"Oh, but you must remember that often he can only judge of the distance made by his feelings," laughed the Traveler. "It seems sixty miles, anyhow."
"I don't doubt that," cried Carnegie, showing handsome teeth in a smile. "I thought there must be some way of getting around it. But if he had said thirty-five miles I'd have believed him, and thought him a mighty good tramper into the bargain."
"Yet many who have never tramped under knapsack, blankets, and tent-cloth would say, 'That's nothing!' and our poor voyager, who really had made a record, would be consigned to oblivion. In all art, even that of writing facts, one must exaggerate a little in order to make the effect life-size—so to say."
"That's true enough," said Mrs. Vanderhoff. "It is so easy to sit still and pass judgment upon those who exert themselves. When I hear a person criticising a painting, a story, a building, a song who could not draw a straight line, write a sentence correctly, build a cob-house on just proportions, nor keep the key through 'Yankee Doodle,' I long to insist upon his making a practical trial in such things before daring to make a criticism. Yet it is a fact that artistic people of every grade and type have to writhe under the criticisms of ignoramuses, who could not accomplish the piece of work they scathingly denounce if their lives depended upon it. I pick up a book and fling it aside with the comment, 'It's not worth reading!' or I look over a great vessel like this and say, 'How clumsily built!' but what if I were doomed to write a similar book, to plan a great steamer—just think of the results! I would never criticise again."
"It would be a pretty good scheme," laughed Mr. Lawrence. "Make these bilious critics prove their right to the title by doing the work. I could really enjoy their agonies on occasion."
"But would you have no criticisms, then?" asked Mrs. Campbell. "Would not that mean stagnation in effort? There must be something to spur one on to better work, mustn't there?"
"I doubt if unintelligent criticism often does prove an incentive," said the Traveler. "'Let me be judged by my peers' is a universal sentiment with the conscientious in any employment."
"Yes, Rachel," put in Mr. Lawrence, smiling at his sister, "if Captain Hosmer should criticise the ship we would build we might endure it, but if—well, Mr. Donelson, for instance, ventured to elevate his nose we would naturally think he knew nothing about it, and would not even try to please him."
"Howcouldhe elevate his nose?" asked Mrs. Campbell innocently, in a whisper that sent the Windemere girls off into giggles, for Mr. Donelson's nose was not only long but slightly hooked, besides. Evidently Mrs. Campbell had not quite forgiven the attaché for his desertion of the morning.
"But if I'm not mistaken we're all competent to judge of a good dinner, if we couldn't cook one," laughed the young man in return, not having caught her comment, and he pointed to Tegeloo who, smiling and important, was bowing before Mrs. Windemere.
"Dinner is served to madam!" he announced with a flourish and an odd accent, while, at the same instant, Captain Hosmer gallantly offered his arm.
"May I have the pleasure? Our dinner is waiting, I believe, Mrs. Windemere," and amid much merriment and excitement, the other gentlemen quickly sought partners and followed.
By a previous understanding with Mr. Malcolm, Mrs. Windemere and party were offered the places of the four young people at the captain's table, and they "went down a peg," as Dwight put it, to another, entirely filled with the younger portion of the guests. If there was a little more learning and elegance, perhaps, at the former, there was a vast amount of fun and nonsense at the latter. Every one in the saloon was supplied with at least one thin slice from the prize pig which, roasted whole and holding an ear of corn in its teeth, was gaily decorated with the flags of England and the United States. It was held high for inspection before the carving began, and many a joke ran around, from table to table, upon the fine appearance of his porcine majesty.
At some of the tables wine flowed freely, and a few of the young men soon ordered it at the one where our girls were seated. It is more commonly used at meals abroad than with middle-class Americans at home, and nearly all partook. Neither Bess nor Dwight, however, would take it and, seeing this, Faith and Hope, caring little about it, also declined, though they had never been taught conscientious scruples regarding its use. No special comment was made upon this, but when Chester Carnegie also turned down his glass the young attachés began a running fire of jests at his expense; Mr. Allyne especially, who soon showed the influence of his champagne, leading off with some sharply personal remarks.
The lieutenant said as little as possible in return, but occasionally a witty reply would turn the laugh against his opponent, who grew disagreeable and really quarrelsome, as the wine affected him more and more.
Seeing this, Carnegie attempted to ignore the whole matter, and turning to Faith, who sat next him, began talking in a lowered tone, hoping Allyne would understand that he was now going too far and so drop the subject.
But a man in liquor is an irresponsible being, and Allyne, under the polish of education and training, possessed the nature of a bully—he was tyrannical and contentious. Choosing now to assume that Carnegie's partial turning away and low-voiced conversation were intended to insult him, he straightened up, and looking fiercely across the table, with eyes already watery from the heady fumes of the strong wine, tapped sharply with his glass and said in too loud a tone for the place, "Carnegie, I was talking to you."
The lieutenant turned his head a trifle, and bowed coolly.
"Excuse me till later, please; I am engaged with Miss Hosmer at present."
The other laughed out in a disagreeable manner. While alone with Mrs. Campbell, that afternoon, he had easily extracted the name of the young man with whom one of the twins (neither knew which one) had been promenading the deck, the evening before, and now, mingled with his rising wrath towards him, was the confused memory of the woman's subtle insinuations.
When sober, Mr. Allyne was usually a gentleman, but in his cups he became little short of a ruffian in manner. He laughed significantly.
"Engaged with, or to?" he asked with insolence. "It had better be to from reports, I should say!"
Instantly the lieutenant, pale as death, was on his feet, while Faith, gasping a little, leaned back in her chair, as white and almost fainting. Hope and Dwight, round-eyed and not half comprehending, stared amazedly, while Donelson, realizing that his companion was quite beside himself, also sprang up and laying a firm hand on Allyne's arm, turned beseechingly.
"Don't, Carnegie—for heaven's sake don't make a scene! I'll get him away. He'll be in the dust for this, to-morrow. Come, Tom, you must go with me instantly."
They were attracting attention. Captain Hosmer's eyes were fixed sternly upon them, for though he had not heard a word he could see that something was wrong, and Faith's white face startled him. He felt there was some disturbance which frightened her, but perhaps fortunately, never dreamed she could be at all concerned in the matter. The Traveler, however, who held the key to the situation, and had caught a sentence or two, on his part, looked sternly at Mrs. Campbell who, suave and unruffled, was monopolizing Mr. Lawrence and evidently amusing him, too.
There might have been worse trouble but for young Carnegie's moderation. The instant Donelson's plea was made he realized that for Faith's sake, if not Allyne's, he must be cautious, so said only, "I leave him to you now, Mr. Donelson," and seated himself, while the attaché, partly by force and partly by coaxing, succeeded in dragging the foolish fellow from the room without further display.
"What was the matter with that young sprout of an attaché?" asked the captain later in the evening, as he and his daughters met for a quiet little visit in the library. "Too much champagne?"
Hope looked quickly at her sister, whose face was turned away, and as she did not respond, answered lightly, "I believe so. He was quarrelsome, and Mr. Donelson wanted to get him away before he—before he made trouble."
"H'm! With whom was he quarreling?"
Faith, back in the shadow, was still unresponsive, and Hope thinking she ought to be the one to answer, let some indignation creep into her own voice as she said,
"Oh, that Mr. Carnegie."
"What, Carnegie? I had taken him for a decent, modest sort of fellow.But any one who will get into a drunken brawl before ladies—"
Faith turned quickly. She was quite white.
"Father, Mr. Carnegie had not been drinking. He did not touch the wine and—and I'm the only one to blame." She burst into tears and, hiding her face in both hands, started to run into her own stateroom, but her father caught her and, with a tender arm about her waist, drew her down upon his knee.
"I don't understand you, daughter," he said in a voice of yearning tenderness, for whenever his children were in trouble, it always seemed to him that his fair young wife stood at his elbow inciting him to gentleness. "I don't understand, but I must. Why should two heady young fools quarrel over my little girl? She is no coquette, I'm sure."
"Papa," put in Hope, for her sister was sobbing helplessly upon his shoulder, "Faith is not to blame, and I don't half understand it, myself, but I'll tell you just what happened—" and she did, much as it has been repeated here.
Her father listened with a darkening face.
"Some cursed gossip!" he muttered as she finished, while Faith managed to murmur,
"I didn't mean any harm, papa. I talked to him just as we do toDwight, and he told me about his home, and what he is going to do inIndia. You might have heard every word, papa!"
"Of course, of course, I understand. Only, I ought to have warned you; a steamer is a perfect hot-bed of gossip on a long voyage like this. But how did that scapegrace get hold of—wait! Hasn't he been with that little Mrs. Campbell most of the day?"
"Yes, he has," said Hope. "They wouldn't play gromets with us, you remember; she said it was too warm."
"Too warm, indeed! I'd like to consign such mischief-makers to a hotter place. Well, well, don't worry now. I begin to comprehend it all."
"But how should Mrs. Campbell know, papa?"
"Because she was pacing the deck herself, or sitting in a corner. I saw her under a smokestack with that Russian—no fit companion either. Had to leave his own country because of his record. She's a nice one to talk—but that's the very kind. Now, see here! After this you girls keep close company, and stay in tow of Mrs. Vanderhoff, or Lady Moreham, and then you'll be all right. You'll mind now?"
"Yes we will, father, but tell me something. Did you know Lady Moreham before this trip? I thought—" He turned a quizzical look upon Hope's eager face, and laughed a little.
"Better think more about things that concern yourself, little one, and not be speculating about my passengers, or you'll get to be another Mrs. Campbell," and, kissing both girls, he gently seated Faith in his large chair and hurried out.
There is something in a Sunday at sea, in calm weather which must impress the most thoughtless. The clean, well-regulated ship seems to take on an air of extra self-respect, the men, in fresh attire, go more quietly about their duties, the well-dressed passengers are less noisy and demonstrative, even the steerage puts on a slightly brighter look on Sunday morning, and for the time being the seeming calmness and content give one a delightful sense of rest.
Captain Hosmer, like most good sailors, had a deep reverence for his Maker, and for that religion, "pure and undefiled," which inspiration teaches. No one living the precarious life of the seaman can well help an abiding sense of personal dependence upon some Power greater than the most furious forces of the deep, and when this dependence becomes childlike and sincere, rather than a mere superstition born of terror, it gives a man that spirit Christ so lovingly inculcated, in which the soul rests, secure and still, within the bosom of the Father.
Though Captain Hosmer had some of the roughnesses born of an adventurous life, he was at heart a sincere believer, and in joy or danger turned instinctively to his Maker in gratitude, or supplication. Though not brought up an Episcopalian, he followed the practice customary on board British vessels, and held service, reading from the Prayer-book every Sunday morning.
To-day, the passengers gathered in the handsome saloon were glad to see the doors flung wide and the punkahs vigorously waving, for it was very warm. Scarcely a person was absent; even Mr. Allyne, looking a bit pale and reserved, sat back in one corner, half screened by his companion, and near the open doors and windows, clustered the servants and such part of the crew as were off duty, their dark faces and turbaned heads forming an artistic contrast to the whiter-skinned race who sat within.
At the precise hour named, the captain, exquisitely trim in his dark uniform, with his kindly, weatherbeaten, but clean-shaven face, took his place by one of the tables and looking gently around with his keen, pleasant eyes, began the slow, impressive reading of the special prayers assigned to the seamen's service. Faith and Hope had never seen him in this role before, and the former felt her eyes fill, while the latter suddenly put out a hand and clasped her twin's in a little ecstasy of admiring appreciation. Neither had even looked towards young Allyne, nor Chester Carnegie. The latter, grave and attentive, sat near one of the open doors and followed the service without a glance about him. It was an hour of gentle solemnity, which affected even the lightest heart.
Allyne had wakened wretched, with a headache, only to be told by his friend of the grave misdemeanors of last night.
"And," added Donelson, "the captain came to ask me about it later, but you were asleep, so we let you alone."
"Heavens! Did I make such a beast of myself, Jack? You certainly exaggerate."
"Not a particle. Believe me, it's serious. The little girls were white as paper, and Carnegie looked like the marble gladiator. I tell you, you're in a pickle."
Allyne groaned and turned over in his bunk.
"Why didn't you stop me in time?" he questioned fiercely, with an oath.
"Oh, you needn't swear at me, Tom Allyne! I'm not your keeper. When you know what champagne does for you, why don't you stop yourself in time?"
"Why don't I? Because then I don't know enough to stop, idiot! The first glass goes to my head, I tell you."
"Then you'd better not touch the first glass," returned Donelson airily, as he vigorously plied his military brushes to his sleek brown poll. "It's a misfortune to be so weak in the upper story, Tom."
"Humph! I'd rather be weak in liquor than when sober," was muttered from the bunk.
Donelson turned quickly.
"See here, young man, if you want to quarrel with your best friend, all right! I've stood by you so far, and dragged you out of the deepest danger, but if you get too abusive—good-by! You may shift for yourself.
"Well then, shut up and let me think, can't you? I know you're all right, Jack, but my head aches terribly, and this muss nearly drives me mad. Why can't you be sympathetic and advise me, instead of harrowing me up so mercilessly."
The other laughed.
"Well, by gracious! I do feel for you, Tom. But what can I do about it?"
"Well, go and bring Carnegie here, for the first thing, can't you?"
"Bring Carnegie to you? I like that! Why, man alive, do you realize that under that bashful girl-look of his there is a spirit that wouldn't flinch at anything where honor is concerned? Watch his square jaw and the set of his lips. Bring him to you! You'll have to go to Carnegie, and eat some humble-pie into the bargain, Tom."
"I don't believe it."
"All right! Perhaps I lie. Just the same, I'll not do any such errand, even for you, that's certain. I know my man, if you don't. And, now, I'm going to the barber-shop, and you can have all the time there is to think it over."
So the situation rested when the parties concerned met under the same roof to listen to, possibly in some cases, to join in solemn prayer to God. It was a few minutes after the service when the two young men most concerned met face to face in one of the dim and narrow passageways connecting the saloons. Allyne stopped and Carnegie, after an instant's hesitation, did likewise.
"I understand," began the former trying to laugh, "that you and I had a little falling out, last night."
"You and I? Not at all," was the prompt answer. "Your quarrel is not with me; you simply insulted Miss Hosmer who, fortunately, has a father to protect her. Make your peace with him."
Allyne flushed darkly.
"You don't mince your words, sir."
"I have no reason to—nor is there any reason for our talking the thing over. It is not my privilege to take it up, as I see plainly now; but if you are a man you will go straight to Captain Hosmer and apologize."
"Oh, I will? It's very easy to tell another man to put his head into the lion's mouth, isn't it? If he does not know the whole, what's the use of rousing him up? Better let it drop."
"That's where you'll make a huge mistake. I believe he knows all about it."
"Has he told you so?"
"Certainly not. We haven't discussed the matter. My belief comes from another source."
"Oh, Miss—"
"Don't finish! We'll have no names mentioned, if you please. You have simply misunderstood the character of one or two people to an almost inexcusable extent. Settle your quarrel with him, then, if you wish it, and I'll ignore my part in it entirely. But if you act the cad—"
"Well, what then?"
"Then the matter is not ended."
"Indeed!" began Allyne, with a sneer, but a second look into the other's face, as he braced himself against the wall, even in the half darkness, convinced him that it would be better to let the affair drop for the present, at least, as he could now note well not only the square jaw to which his friend had referred, but also a flash of the blue eyes that looked dangerous.
He turned away abruptly and with a "Very well," hurried onwards. But as he went slowly out, crossed the forward deck, mounted the companionway to the upper deck, and continued still upwards to the bridge, where he could see the captain standing, the glass at his eyes, his thoughts were busy, and they were not pleasant thoughts, you may be sure.
Captain Hosmer seemed too absorbed in something he was examining through his binocular to notice him, however, and just as Allyne, somewhat reluctantly, spoke his name, the watch sang out,
"Sail on the port bow, sir."
"Is she anchored, or drifting, Ferris?" called back the captain.
"Drifting, I think, sir. Should judge it's a wreck."
"We must alter our course and make for her then," he said, turning to the steersman. Then, with a swift look at Allyne who stood a step below waiting,
"Anything particular, sir?"
"Only a word to explain—"
"Last night? Well," sternly, "what excuse have you to make?"
Allyne shrugged his shoulders.
"I was not myself, sir. Your champagne was too heady."
"H'm! 'Twas made for men, I reckon. You did not exactly act the part of one, it seems to me. Her Majesty's officials ought to have at least the manners of a gentleman."
"You are hard on me, Captain Hosmer!"
"A man is apt to be hard where his daughters are lightly treated."
"I came to apologize. Do you wish me to see the young ladies in person?"
"By no means! Keep as far from them as possible is all I ask. They have their friends."
He turned quickly to an officer awaiting commands, and paid no further attention as Allyne moodily withdrew. The young man saw that the men were about to launch one of the boats, and that some of the crew were now making ready to raise the dingey to position on the davits, while others were hastening to take their seats within it. The passengers, getting wind of some excitement, were hurrying sternwards, and he pushed along with them, glad to forget his sore feelings for a minute.
Carnegie, followed by Dwight, pushed past him, alert and eager, and he saw the twins with a group of ladies, watching with all their eyes. Even his own chum, Donelson, was chatting at ease with two East Indian officials, absorbed and forgetful. Tom Allyne felt decidedly left out, and it was not a pleasant sensation to one who had been accustomed to considering himself a good fellow and desirable companion.
He leaned against the bulwark, a lonely figure in the midst of all this lively bustle, and wished impotently that he could have let well enough alone—and by well enough he doubtless meant both the champagne and Mrs. Campbell—thus preserving the pleasant relations of yesterday. A steamship soon becomes the world itself to its passengers, and the little events of each day assume an exaggerated importance. To be at odds with one's fellows on board means a rather desolate position for the young person fond of society, and this one moodily wished the miserable voyage over as he blinked in the sunshine, with his back to the rest.
The dingey, with its human freight, was smoothly lowered to the water's edge, and rowed swiftly away, the captain, standing straight and tall in the stern, turning back to touch his cap with a smile, as the cheers resounded, but his eyes were upon two young faces who forgot to wave handkerchiefs, even, so absorbed were they to catch his slightest glance. The boat looked a slender thing to breast the might of that great sea, if only half aroused, and though it was far from heavy to-day an occasional puff of wind sent the waves up in little swirls of foam, and seemed ready to drown it in spray. As the fires were banked to stay the ship's course, the swarthy Seedees swarmed out for a breath of air, and all who could find a glass, among crew or passengers, were looking towards one spot. They could distinguish the floating hulk with the naked eye, but only those with powerful lenses could say positively that there seemed no life about it. After watching the dingey until it melted into the outlines of the larger hull, they formed into groups beneath the awnings, to speculate upon this wreck and to hear yarns of others, each more thrilling than the last, till the sisters began to fear they should never see their father safe again.
Allyne, happening to turn from his sullen survey, saw that the Windemere girls, Mrs. Campbell, and two or three of the men were seated close by. As he turned, Mrs. Campbell said pleasantly, but with something of sarcasm in her tone,
"Aren't you well, Mr. Allyne? This is the first time I've seen you to-day."
"Yes, thank you, I'm well except for a headache."
"Headache? Indeed!" She laughed lightly, and her manner made him wince.
"You seem to find it amusing," he said resentfully.
She laughed outright.
"Why, you're reallycross! Is that the way a generous dinner affects you? Now, roast pig never goes to my head at all—does, it Janet?"
Her mocking angered him in his present mood, but he had learned caution from last night and, simply bowing, walked off without a reply. Under his breath, however, he anathematized a woman who could so easily lead a man into trouble, only to make merry over his discomfiture.
The day which had begun in Sabbath stillness, so far as wind and weather were concerned, was destined to end in a far different manner. The dingey had scarcely reached the drifting vessel when the wind began to freshen into a decided blow. Clouds rolled up from the southwest, and it grew rapidly darker. Many of the passengers retired to their staterooms, but the twins, consumed with anxiety for their father, would not leave the deck, and Lady Moreham, Mr. Lawrence, Bessie, and Dwight remained with them, the other ladies being obliged to retire.
Presently, as the group watched, talking in subdued tones, amid the increasing noise of the coming storm, the watch sang out the glad news of the captain's boat in sight, and the girls, straining their gaze across the hillocks of gray-black waters beneath the angry sky, could see the tiny thing approaching. Sometimes it seemed fairly swallowed in the trough of the sea, again it rose on the crest, only apparently to topple into oblivion the next instant—yet in spite of wind and wave making its sure and steady way to the great home ship, and safety.
At length it was alongside, and, amid ringing cheers, the captain came aboard, wet to the skin, and waving back the eager girls, whose eyes were wet with tears of relief.
"Don't touch me, daughters; I'll give you a chill. And the first thing necessary is to see to our rescued man. Come to me presently."
They had just a glimpse of this person as he was carried forward by four men, but that glimpse was one never to be forgotten. The haggard face, with the dark skin drawn like a mummy's across the prominent bones, the lips stiff and blackened, between which the teeth shone whitely, the eyes sunken and but half closed, gave it a horrible appearance.
"Oh!" whispered Faith in distressed tones, "Isn't he already dead?"
"Not quite," was the response. "We'll bring him around, I reckon, but it was a close call."
When all duties were discharged and the captain, in dry clothing, sat before a substantial supper in his own cabin, Joey was sent for the girls, who gladly joined him without loss of time.
"Sit down," he cried gaily, between big mouth-fills. "I know you are quivering with curiosity—I can see it sticking out all over you. Just let me fill up this gaping void a little, and then I'll tell you a story that will make your two eyes like stars start from their spheres, and all the rest of it. But now I must eat."
They waited patiently, and presently, leaning comfortably back, with his third cup of coffee in his hand, he told them what follows:
"We thought, when we reached the sunken, dismasted hull, that of course she was abandoned, but concluded to board her, and see if there was anything of value inside. We made her out to be a tartan, probably with an Arab, or African, crew and it was evident she had been through a heavy storm, for her masts were washed clean overboard, and her bulwarks stove in. We could not distinguish a soul aboard, and if she had carried boats they were gone, but as we went down into the hatchway we came upon a sight that I wouldn't care for you to see. It was a dark 'tween-decks cabin, and the stench, as we descended, was simply horrible! At my first step I stumbled over something that sent a shudder through me, and when I lighted a match and looked around the sight made me crawl. Two poor wretches lay there, both dead, as we thought, but after giving them a thorough examination I decided there was a spark left in this poor fellow, at least, and after working over him a while we were sure of it. The other could not be revived, so we weighted his feet, and let him slide the plank to his watery grave. But that wasn't all—however I guess I won't tell any more. It's downright gruesome, and I've got to go up and take a lookout, for we're likely to have a wild night."
"Oh yes, yes, father!" they begged. "Don't leave us cut off short like this. We want to hear it all."
"Well, we managed to find a lantern, so that we could go on with our investigations. Evidently, there had been foul play of some kind, for the cabin plainly showed signs of a fierce scrimmage. There was blood on the walls and floor; one or two rusty weapons lay about, and on one was human hair. I shouldn't have thought to look further, but a cry from Tower called me into the bit of an after-cabin, fitted up with bunks, and there lying flat, face downwards and head towards the door, as if she had fallen while running out, was an Arab woman."
"And she was dead?" whispered Hope hoarsely.
"Yes, and in the bunk was her baby, a little thing not many months old.I tell you, it was pitiful!"
"Oh!" breathed Faith, "do you suppose it was left to starve?"
"I'm afraid so. I think the mother heard the fighting and started to run out, leaving her child safely hidden, when her husband was attacked, but was felled by a blow on the head. We saw the marks."
"Horrible!" Hope covered her eyes, and the captain sprang up.
"I ought not to have told you. It was bad enough to see it myself, hardened as I am. Now I must go. Do you want one of the women to come and stay with you?"
"No," said both, and he hurried out, but at the door was arrested byHope.
"One question more—did you bury them too, papa?"
"Yes."
"In the same way?"
"Yes."
She drew a long, sighing breath as he disappeared, and turning clasped Faith close with a sob of overwrought feeling. The sisters could not talk much over the hideous tale. The night was shutting down wild and stormy, and the labored motion of the good steamship already showed that she was meeting heavier seas than they had yet encountered. Yet, singularly, neither felt seasick, as yet. The intense anxiety until their father's return, and the deep interest in his narration since, had driven all physical feeling from their minds.
But, after a little, Faith said in a hushed voice, "I'm going to bed, Hope. I couldn't talk to anybody in the saloon, and it's too wild to be on deck, so I might as well.
"I'll go too," said Hope, "but let's just take a look out, at least."
She suddenly turned off the electric switch leaving the cabin in total darkness, then drew her sister to the broad swell of windows looking out upon the forward deck. It was bare enough tonight. All the awnings were closely furled and the chairs stowed away in snug stacks, while not a figure could be seen where all had been light, warmth and cheer, a few hours earlier. Only one or two of the incandescent lights were on, and beyond that feeble glow there seemed a great void of darkness and storm. The gloom shut in the steamer's world as with a thick curtain; not a star was visible, but now and then a white swirl of foam gleamed for a second through the murk, and then, with a creaking and groaning as if in pain, the good ship lurched, trembled, and as the wave broke with an indescribable noise, steadied herself once more, to plunge onward as fast as steam could force her in the teeth of wind and wave.
Some days later, when the almost perished man had regained consciousness and a modicum of strength, the girls were told the rest of his story, which I will give you here.
He was first-mate of the "Shiraz," a tartan, which, to be explicit, is a small coasting vessel peculiar to the Mediterranean Sea, used principally for conveying stock, and sometimes other merchandise. This, headed for the Balearics, had shipped a crew at Algiers, the captain being forced to take what he could pick up in a hurry. He was a Corsican, and seems to have been a cruel man, though his mate loyally made the best of him, and insisted he was a good captain.
But, be that as it might, some failure in rations and water made the crew surly and ready to break out into open grumbling upon any pretense, so that, when they encountered a fierce squall, and sprung a leak, it was almost impossible to keep them at the pumps, until terror of their own lives forced them to yield to discipline.
But, though they finally succeeded in stopping the leak, this was not accomplished until the mainsail had been carried away by the heavy sea, and other injuries sustained. It was a terrible time for all, and the crew, exhausted and overworked on insufficient food, were only held to their tasks by the captain and mates standing over them with loaded firearms.
In some unknown way one of them discovered a hogshead of arrack, the East Indian whisky, and, unseen by the officers, they tapped it and secretly helped themselves.
The fiery, stuff changed them from men into demons, and that night they mutinied. The second mate, who was upon deck, attempted to check their rush, but was felled with a cutlass and kicked overboard. Next, they made for the cabin, where the captain and mate were sitting, while the former's wife and child were asleep in the adjoining apartment.
There was a sharp, desperate encounter in the small space, in which they were quickly over-powered. But when the mate was struck senseless he rolled under the large table, and must have escaped further notice, for after despatching the captain and his screaming wife, the mutineers evidently took at once to the boats, and left the dismasted hulk to founder with its gruesome freight.
But the storm was over by that time, and it had drifted for two days and nights, at least, by the mate's reckoning, during which he had lain unconscious, wondrously preserved from death.
What was the fate of the seamen thus deserting no one could tell, but with men insensate from arrack, even should they have escaped immediate danger from the sea, they could hardly make port safely in a small open boat.
It was more than probable that the mate was the only one left of the ill-fated crew. Captain Hosmer was unable to take the tartan in tow on account of the storm, but marked its location to report it at Algiers, that wreckers might be sent to save the cargo and sink the hulk that it should no longer be a menace and danger to every passing craft.
"How delightful this is!" murmured Faith early next morning, after hours of storm-tossed uneasiness and dread. "Did you ever hear such awful noises as we had all night? I'm almost afraid to look, for fear everything is broken in here."
Hope, wide awake in an instant, returned,
"It is astonishingly still now, isn't it? I wonder what it means.Even the engines have stopped—don't you hear?"
"How can I hear stillness?" laughed Faith. "I do perceive that they've stopped, though. Yes, we must have come safely into port somewhere—why, I wonder if it is Algiers?"
Hope rose up on one elbow, in some excitement, then gave a cry.
"Why, look at the cage—and where is Texas?" and Faith, rising also, saw that the bottom had dropped out of the parrot's home and lay, with its contents, but not its inmate, upon the floor amid some broken glass and crockery.
"The storm has done it! Where can Texas be? Oh, I hope he is not killed—"
"Good-morning!" croaked a voice at their very ears, and there, on the thick nickel rim surrounding one of the portholes just above their heads, perched Texas, dignified and imperturbable as ever.
Both girls broke into laughter, and tried to coax him down, but unvailingly. He sat in a solemn quiet such as he seldom showed in his cage, and clung to his slippery place with an air that said, "I have known trouble and insecurity enough. Now that I have a foothold, poor as it is, I mean to keep it," and though he returned to their coaxing civil enough responses, he could not be tempted even to perch upon Hope's white wrist, which was usually a proud privilege to his birdship.
"Well," she said, giving it up, "I mean to see what has happened and where we are at, as those American newspapers put it. We must be safe somewhere, for they are washing down decks just as usual."
"I wonder if father slept a wink all night," said Faith. "If he didn't then he is probably resting now, so we must be careful not to disturb him."
"That's true. I'll be like a mouse!" Hope was hurrying into a pinkrobe de chambre, which the girls best liked to call a pajama, and now slipped her feet into a pair of little Turkish slippers, all toe and sole, and opening the communicating door, peered into the library. It was empty, but her father's tarpaulins, in a heap on the floor, just outside his stateroom door, showed he was within, so she moved very softly across to the broad outlook of windows.
In a minute she went flying back in silent swiftness. "Come, Faith," she whispered excitedly, "it's the finest thing you ever saw!"
Soon both pajamaed figures were looking with great eyes at the novel scene before them. They found themselves anchored in some large harbor amid a forest of shipping, much of it the oddest they had ever seen. Instead of the straight, strong masts they were accustomed to, here were those that shot up so tall and slender they seemed to bend over of their own weight, like a young sapling. To these rapier-like masts were fastened sails of quaint square shape and dingy hues, or of sharp triangular form, which they learned afterwards were the lateen sails they had read of, but never seen. The prows of these small vessels were all so oddly curved and shaped, while the figureheads suggested nightmare fancies of the brain. Off a little way rose a fine walled city that seemed made all of marble, at first glance. Just now, in this early light, it was coldly white like a cemetery, but presently the sun shot his first warm beam over the horizon's edge, and lo! a transformation. The towering whiteness now blushed into rosy hues, the black-green of the foliage lightened to a delicate tint, while bits of gay colors here and there suggested parks and gardens filled with bloom. The cemetery had become a Palace Beautiful.
The girls gazed a long time, then, a bit chilled, for the night's gale had greatly cooled the air, they crept back, to sleep a while longer, in spite of the well-meant advice of Texas. "Get up, lazyheads!" austerely flung down from the porthole.