As they forged ahead, to the steady drum-beat of the engines, the broad swirl of water, churned into foam by the great propellers at the stern, marked their path as far back as the eye could reach. The weather was fitful, and the sky cleared somewhat toward sunset, but its light was cold, and threatening clouds hung close upon its edge. The treacherous weather predicted of the bay might be upon them soon, though as yet it had been "all plain sailing," as the captain observed.
"It's either here, or on the Indian seas," he said laughingly. "Somewhere, we'll have to take it! It is not often we get through without a little shaking up, somewhere. 'Twould scarcely be possible in so long a voyage."
"About how long does it take you?" asked Mr. Lawrence, lazily watching the line of faint silvery blue, streaking the horizon.
"Oh, I usually make it inside of thirty days, when our stops aren't too long," returned the captain. "Of course the P. & O. liners, being mail-carriers, do it in much less time. But they're built for speed, and make fewer stops. Then, we tramp steamers always give them the right of way in harbor—hello!"
He rose to his feet, his keen eyes looking off to starboard, while at the same instant came a cry from the lookout, "Sail to starboard, aft!"
The others, following the captain's gaze, saw something like a faint smudge growing on the horizon's line against the faintly tinted hue, and, even as they watched, it deepened to a waving plume.
"Come!" said he, and they followed him to the bridge, where, giving each a turn at the glass, they watched the plume until a shape was attached to it, and it grew into a graceful steamship, its funnels belching black, and its sails gleaming like shadowy shapes of vapor till they grew near enough to become defined, and materialized by nearness.
"It's one of the liners now—a P. & O!" cried the captain with some excitement. "Isn't she a lady, though? Watch her gait! She's as steady and swift as the stars in their courses. You'll see her colors soon."
He sang out an order or two, then turned to answer Faith who, with her eyes fixed on the rapidly nearing steamer, asked dreamily,
"What does P. & O. stand for, papa?"
"Why, don't you know? For goodness' sake, child, what an odd question for a seaman's daughter to ask!"
"But I surely don't know. I never heard anything but P. & O. and I never even thought to ask before."
"Well, it's Peninsular and Oriental, of course—there, see her colors?Those four triangles in blue, white, yellow, and red, at her masthead.Watch while we salute her!"
The beautiful courtesy was given and exchanged, the great steamer passing at so close range that they could see the clustered groups upon her immense decks, note the fluttering handkerchiefs, and hear their cheers, in response to those from the "International," ringing faint, yet clear, across the watery space between.
"That's the 'London,'" said the captain dropping his glass after a long, admiring gaze, "and, by the way, the old 'London,' a fine, staunch vessel, was wrecked in this very bay years ago."
They watched the leviathan, with its hundreds of passengers, a long time, but at length its greater speed carried it from view in the darkening night, and they were presently reminded, by the signal, that it was time to dress for dinner.
The "International" would have seemed odd, in many respects, to one used only to the trans-Atlantic steamers, for, though entirely officered by English-speaking whites, its crew consisted largely of Malays and Lascars, while the waiters were mostly Japanese and Bengalese, wearing a costume compounded of their native gowns and the white aprons of European waiters. The maids, under Mrs. Jordan, were also East Indian women, and they were very picturesque in their saris, or head coverings, of gay colors, with brilliant teeth gleaming out of their swarthy faces, and eyes like beads for blackness. Even the boys who answered bell-calls and polished the brasses and the shoes, were from Soudan or Bombay, and the stokers down in the engine-room were Seedees, black as the coals they kept flinging into those yawning red mouths, which made one think of an opening into the great pit of Hades.
These Seedees are as near a salamander as a human being can be, perhaps, and certainly they will endure heat that would soon kill a white man. Sometimes, in those southern seas, the temperature of the furnace-room is something unthinkable, yet they endure it; though, as soon as their relief appears, they will fling their steaming, and almost naked, bodies into the scuppers, to let the rush of water wash them into coolness, once more. It was understood that the girls were not to visit any of the lower regions of the ship, without the company of some officer, but Mr. Malcolm was very accommodating, so, matronized by Mrs. Vanderhoff, her party and the twins managed to peep into nearly every hole and corner before the voyage was over. Even where they did not care to go Dwight would penetrate, if by crawling or climbing he could reach the spot.
Before bedtime the steamer had changed its course to westward, and as it encountered a stiff head wind its progress was labored and slow. Most of the passengers early "sought the seclusion that the cabin grants," as Dwight mockingly observed, but, sheltered in the snug pilot-house, our girls, with himself and Bess, rode out the "storm," as Faith called it (though the gray old steersman laughed at the idea), until a late hour. All day there had been a flock of sea-gulls following them, and, attracted by the light, they sometimes dashed against the windows, startling the girls and delighting Dwight. They will follow a steamer much as a fly does a horse, always keeping at just about such a distance, though one would think, in their sky-circling and ocean-dipping, they must lose time occasionally. As these birds of the sea glide down a billow, then skim lightly up again, it would seem they must sometimes be caught in the swirl of foam and borne under, but no! Every time, no matter with what fusilade of spray the wave breaks, Mr. Seagull rises, lightly triumphant, with not so much as a silver feather wetted by salt water!
The night grew very dark, and the sea was turbulent. The late supper—a fourth meal always served on board the "International"—was something of a scramble, but our young people enjoyed it, as few of the older passengers were present, and though an occasional fit of squeamishness disturbed both twins, while Bess had to disappear suddenly, Dwight ate calmly on of everything offered, with an equanimity that tickled Joey, and excited the envy of all. The saloons looked deserted, and only a few mustered for a short look at the light on Finisterre. After seeing it, our girls decided bed was a good place, but Faith thought she had scarcely dropped asleep, though hours had fled, when something seemed to shake her into consciousness, and Hope's agitated voice whispered, "Oh, what is that?"
It was a hoarse, awful, prolonged bellow, as of some giant ox in sore distress, and when it would stop, occasionally, faint and far would come another bellow, mellowed by distance, but sounding unspeakably eerie and frightsome. A bell, too, seemed to be tolling a knell for something, and there was a constant rush of feet on deck, mingled with trumpeted orders and the rattle of cordage. Yet the steamer did not seem to be pitching about at all, as it was when they retired. Could they be going down, and were those awful noises calls for help? And where could they be to have answers coming over the waves like that?
"Oh dear!" sighed Hope. "What can it all mean? Do see if papa is in his cabin; you're on that side."
"Of course he isn't!" answered her sister, more calmly. "When there's danger he's always at his post. And do you suppose, if there was real danger for us, that he wouldn't come and let us know? I can trust my father!"
"Well, so can I," snapped Hope, so disgusted at this superior tone she half forgot her fright. "But it might be that he couldn't get to us, Faith Hosmer! He might be washed overboard."
Something in the idea of her big, cool father being washed off the decks of this staunch ship somehow amused Faith, who really was not much alarmed, and she could not help laughing, which gave fresh offense to her sister, who, breaking into tears, exclaimed, "You're a heartless girl, and ought to be ashamed!"
"Why, Hope!" A soft arm stole around her neck and a little figure "cuddled" close. "You're all wrought up, but really I don't think it's so bad. See how quiet the ship is. I presume we're caught in a fog, or something. Just as likely as not we're off the light, yet, and that is a bell-buoy, or something."
"Dear! I'd like to call a bell-boy, and ask," giggled Hope, a bit hysterical. "Hark! there's papa now."
In an instant the two girls were on their feet peering into the "library."
"Oh, papa, what is it?" cried Hope.
"What's what, my dear?" coming nearer, and showing himself wrapped in tarpaulins from head to heels. "D'ye mean that old tooter?" laughing lightly. "Nothing at all, except that we're in a fog and the horn's got a chill. Now turn in, quick, before you get one, too, and go to sleep, dearies; your father's watching."
"Hope," said her sister, after they had lain still a while. "I think that's a beautiful thought! 'Your father's watching.' It means two fathers for us, dear, and One of them cannot make a mistake, even in a fog. Good night and pleasant dreams. I'm going to sleep."
They kissed and curled down contentedly, sleeping like babies all night. Father was watching!
The fog had delayed them some hours, but when the girls awoke, late the next morning, there was not a vestige of it left, save an extra brilliance in the clear air, while the engines were pounding away in a brave effort to bring them into Lisbon by the schedule. As noon approached, and the pale tan of the coast line grew upon them, all was animation on board, for any landing when voyaging by sea, is an event, and especially so when the stay is to be of several hours duration.
Our twins dragged out their flat steamer trunks from under their beds, and pulled out their prettiest street costumes, glad to discard the useful ulster for a light jacket and hat. They were told the weather would be mild on shore, though it was November, and they were delighted to feel themselves really "dressed up" again, as Hope remarked.
"Do you know," put in her sister ruminantly, "there's ever so much difference between being dressed up and well dressed. Now there's Mrs. Vanderhoff; she never is really dressed up, but I have not yet seen her when she was not well dressed for the occasion."
"Faith, if you get to moralizing I shall go distracted! Wheredidwe put our jeweled hat pins? I've looked and looked, and—oh, there they are right under my nose. Goodness! is that a rap?—Ah, is it you, Miss Bess? Come right in. How fine you look in your shore clothes!"
"Shore clothes? That's good! Country people talk about store clothes at home, but I never heard of shore clothes, before."
"Well, it's my invention—an inspiration of the moment. I'll make you a present of it. Do you know, Faith, we'll have to buy some new handkerchiefs, or have ours laundered in some way. I never used so many in my life."
"You might do as the Carrollton girls, from Chicago, did when they were abroad, last year," remarked Bess with a laugh. "There were so many of them that the laundry bills were dreadful, so they concluded to wash out their own handkerchiefs. Of course they had no way of ironing them, so, while they were still very wet, they would plaster them up against the window-panes in the sun, to dry. They said the embroidered ones would come out beautifully, just as if nicely pressed on the wrong side. It got so they would look at the window panes the first thing, when they reached a hotel, or pension, to see if they were large enough for drying-boards. And when they visited the Tuileries, as they all stood in silence, gazing at the great fountain, the lovely flowers, and the lawn of velvet, Minnie suddenly broke out, 'What a beautiful place to dry our handkerchiefs, girls!'"
"How ridiculous!" cried Faith. "I hope no such practical thought will mar the romance of our visit to Lisbon, to-day."
"Oh, nothing could take your romance away," said Hope. "A little more practicality wouldn't hurt you. But come, I'm ready. Let's go up and see the blessed land, even if it is only Portuguese soil."
Thus talking and laughing they hastened deckwards, and many eyes turned upon them with pleasure as they appeared, so bright and rosy, and unconscious of anything but the enjoyment in hand. Even Lady Moreham's face relaxed, and her eyes followed them with a wistful expression, as she remarked,sotto voce, "How sweetly they look!"
"Sweet, you mean," hinted Mrs. Poinsett at her elbow, with a deferential air, yet decided tone.
The other turned with a quick, impatient sigh, and half-resentful manner, but in a moment moved closer and said humbly,
"Thank you for the correction! Do not let my smallest errors escape you."
Mrs. Poinsett bent her dignified head.
"I obey you, my lady, though it is hard for both of us."
"Yes, everything is hard, but no matter."
And now all eyes were gazing shorewards, for Lisbon presents a beautiful appearance when approached from the water, rising, as she does, in terraces which overlook the noble Tagus, and are in turn overlooked by the Sierras, ending in the Peak of Lisbon, at its mouth. Arriving thus, one does not see the filth and squalor, the tumble-down buildings, unpaved streets, or many poor mean houses tucked in among the grander ones. Lisbon has sometimes been called "The Sultana of the West," and the comparison is apt enough, for like many a sultana her first appearance is conspicuously beautiful, but she will not bear too close inspection. Her jewels are often mere colored glass, her embroideries tawdry, and her garments not over clean.
But in the brilliant sunshine of this glowing noon Portugal's capital sat throned in majesty, and the passengers were enthusiastic in their praises.
"Come!" cried Dwight, appearing like a bombshell in their midst. "Are you ready, girls? We're going ashore together, and while the captain runs about on his affairs, uncle and mother are going to trot us around wherever we want to go. Then, by and by, we're to meet him in the Place of Commerce, and go for dinner at the Braganza. He and uncle have fixed it all up. Hip, hooray! Won't it be jolly to be on land again?"
But it proved slow work making their way in, for the river's mouth, which broadens into a noble harbor, was choked with the shipping of many lands, which had doubtless been detained by the fog of last night. As the young people leaned over the guard rail, it was great fun to watch the crowd of clumsy little native boats, laden with fruit and wine, which were hovering about the steamer, and getting in the way of everybody, while crying their wares. Many of these boatmen seemed as dark in complexion as any East Indian on board, and nearly all wore ear-rings, generally of silver, in the dingy lobes of their ears. They seemed noisy and quarrelsome, and often shrieked what seemed like terrible imprecations at each other, shaking their fists and scowling darkly, only to be laughing carelessly the next minute, as if nothing mattered. Dwight was about motioning one man to fling him up a bunch of figs, in exchange for the silver coin in his fingers, when his uncle called them to the other side of the deck, which was just as well, for it would have had to be a splendid toss and catch had he secured them.
Mr. Lawrence wanted to point out the difference between a clumsy coast lugger just putting out to sea, and a clean little clipper-built English yacht coming in. He said,
"It is a difference that you will see in almost everything here. The Portuguese do not know the meaning of the word thrift, as we understand it, and if cleanliness is not next to godliness with them, it certainly is next to royalty, for it never descends to the common people."
When, at last, they went on shore and left the wharves behind, most of the bustle died away, and they could see that Mr. Lawrence had only told the truth, in the easy way in which all business seemed to be managed.
But they found much to admire and enjoy in the odd costumes and people they were constantly meeting; more, as Hope rather contemptuously remarked, than in the buildings, which were "just like houses anywhere."
She was right enough, for this is largely true on the seaward side of Lisbon. Her quaintness, and squalor also, lie further inland, where the old quarters are to be found.
"So you don't think Lisbon has many novelties, Miss Hosmer?" laughed Mr. Lawrence, who thought there was more fun in the young people than in scenes that were not new to him. "Just wait a bit! We are coming to something now."
He led the way into a pleasant enclosure, or placa, as they call it there, saying carelessly, "Let's cross to the other side."
They started briskly enough, but in a minute Hope flung out a hand as if for support.
"Oh, I can't stand up another minute!" she cried. "It makes me seasick."
But Dwight caught her arm and laughingly urged her on, stumbling and protesting, for this is known as Rolling Motion Square, and is paved in gray-blue stone to represent billows in motion. So complete is the effect that those who are still giddy from ocean travel find it a trial to walk across it.
"Dwight," called his mother admonishingly, "you will weary the patience of these young ladies. Come and help your mother a minute, can't you?"
"Of course I can, mommy, provided Miss Hope will release me, but she is clinging awfully tight just now!"
Amid the laughter his uncle sent him forward with a push, and offered his own arm.
"Get out, you rascal! We're nearly across, Miss Hosmer, and I'm very glad of an opportunity to monopolize you for a little. I see you are not greatly impressed with Portugal; you don't like it so well as—well, Lynn, for instance?"
"Now you are laughing at me, but indeed I do not! Do you know, Mr. Lawrence, I have always wished we girls were Americans in real earnest—to live there, you understand. I love England, too, but while I was with Uncle Albert at Lynn, he used to talk to me a great deal about that grand United States and it seems to me a wonderful land. Faith was not so strong as I, and used to stay in more—you see, uncle was not really in the busy part, but well out where it was more like the country—and she did not go about with him as I did. Once he took me to Plymouth, and when he showed me that rock with the railing around it, and told me about those Pilgrim fathers braving the sea and savages, just to worship God as they thought was right, it seemed to me as if my whole soul bowed down in reverence! From that minute I was an American girl—a New England girl—and I have kept true to my father's country ever since."
"I think," said Mr. Lawrence, thoughtfully, "that there is something in the foundation of our New England which gives it an interest beyond that of almost any region known, and it certainly appeals to any nature which has an enthusiasm for the heroic and noble. Many countries have been acquired through bloodshed, by conquest and because of greed and glory, but a country whose foundations were laid in the rights of conscience only, whose progenitors took God alone for their Leader, and his rules and service for their code—who came in peace and poverty, demanding nothing but the right to live and die true men—ah! no wonder New England is proud of her forefathers."
"What Portuguese hero are you lecturing about now, uncle?" called back Dwight, saucily, but was at once suppressed by his mother. Hope answered lightly,
"We have found better heroes than those old Portuguese fighters, we think; haven't we, Mr. Lawrence?"
"Yes. Still, there is one man whom I greatly admire, of this nation, and I think we will visit his statue next. What do you know about Luiz de Camoes, or, as we write it, Camoens, Dwight?"
"Gracious! Nothing at all; never heard of him. Was he a fighter?"
"Hardly. At any rate he did his fighting in a noble way—rather like heaping coals of fire I should say. He was a writer."
"Oh, tell us about him, uncle."
"What! A lecture? But that is not admissible in polite society."
"Now, don't tease. You know we are all dying to hear about him.Proceed!"
"Dying?" put in Mrs. Vanderhoff. "How extravagantly you talk, my son."
"Well, crazy, then."
She laughed hopelessly.
"Go on, pray," she said to her brother. "He simply leaps from the frying-pan into the fire."
"De Camoens," he said, "was by no means without faults, but he was gifted, generous, forgiving, and brave. He was foolish enough to love a lady too near the throne, and on that account was banished, and endured many hardships for years. Yet he did not let this dampen his love of country, and his loyalty to the government. Though an exile, he wrote a romantic epic extolling the deeds of his countrymen in all ages, which has become a great classic, and has made both them and himself immortal. I call that a generous deed! He died poor and unnoticed, but now his people make an idol of him, and his statue is one of the sights of Lisbon."
"Did he live here?" asked Faith. "That is, when he was not in exile?"
"Yes, this was his home."
"And his poem was the Lusiad," added Mrs. Vanderhoff.
"Why, I've heard of that!" cried Dwight. "We had something about it in our Rhetoric."
"And here," said Mr. Lawrence, pointing down a street into which they had turned, "you catch your first glimpse of his statue. Poor fellow! I wonder if he knows of the tardy recognition, wherever he is now?"
They stood some time before this monument to an unfortunate genius, then started on a lively exploration of the streets and shops, which was perhaps more interesting to the ladies than to their escort. At any rate it was with something like a sigh of relief that he at length glanced at his watch, and declared it was time to meet the captain in the Place of Commerce, close by.
This is a conspicuous square in Lisbon, and they had already visited some of its arcaded shops, but without taking special note of its attractions. Now they had leisure to stroll about and admire the fine public buildings, and the exquisite flowers and foliage. Quite suddenly they came upon the captain who was, to the great astonishment of his daughters, walking leisurely about in company with Lady Moreham and Mrs. Poinsett. They all stopped to exchange greetings, and finally wandered over to the open side of the square, where is a fine view of the Tagus, with its varied shipping and busy shores. As they were turning to make their way to the hotel for dinner, Faith found herself beside the English lady, who said in a gentle voice, which seemed oddly out of place with her reserved, almost haughty, manner,
"Have you enjoyed the afternoon, my child?"
"Very much, thank you," said Faith. "There are so many queer-looking people, and it is diverting to visit all these open booths, and try to understand their jargon and make them understand ours. I feel in a dream sometimes."
"Then you have not traveled largely?"
"Very little, my lady."
"I heard you and your sister speak of being in the United States some time, did I not?"
"Oh yes, a year. Our father was born there."
"And you were in Boston?"
"Yes, many times."
"Did you ever go to any of the suburbs—Brookline, for instance?"
"I was there twice. We had friends living there. Isn't it a charming place? It made me think of some of our prettiest English towns."
"Oh, it is better—that is, I have heard it spoken of as a little paradise. Did you go about considerable?"
Faith glanced at her, surprised by several things. First, there was a wistful note in her voice which seemed singular when speaking of a town never visited; second, with all her precise use of language, once in a while this woman of the highest aristocracy made an odd slip in a grammatical way. She was a somewhat puzzling compound. Faith answered,
"A little. We rode up on Corey's Hill, of course, and around by the reservoir, and out towards Jamaica Pond—but you do not know, perhaps—"
"Go on, pray! I like to hear it." The woman's manner was almost breathless with eagerness, and Faith, wondering still more, continued. "I enjoyed as much as anything just wandering around alone, and looking at the lovely homes. I never was quite sure when I was in a real street, or in a private way, till I saw the signs up, and I used to wonder why these beautiful little lanes were labeled, 'Dangerous,' till uncle told me it was because they were private property, and the town would not be responsible for accidents that might happen there. My friend lived in a park, with several houses set down at random, and pretty drives through it, and another little girl I visited lived well up the hill, and when she wanted to come down town in winter she just tucked herself up on a little sled, and coasted all the way. I thought that must be great fun!"
Lady Moreham's eyes were all alight.
"I love to hear you tell about it!" she said. "Some other time we will talk some more. Your father is beckoning you to hurry, now, and there is my friend waiting for me impatiently. But did you ever hear of Hale's story, The Man Without a Country? Hale is an American writer."
"I have heard of him, but have not read that story," returned the girl.
"It is a sad one—a very sad one! Good-by. Thank you for a pleasant stroll. I will see you again."
She passed swiftly ahead, to join Mrs. Poinsett, and Faith turned aside to her own party, but when they joked her on making a conquest of the titled lady she only smiled dreamily, and saw an eager face, filled with almost girlish life, begging for childish particulars about a modest place in far-away New England.
It was after sunset when, their excellent dinner over, they returned on board the dear old steamer, which seemed really like home as Joey smiled a welcome, Mr. Malcolm called a greeting down from the guards, and two or three of the babies ran from their ayahs' sides, along the deck, to meet them. Even the Bengali boy grinned, as he cleared away some paper bags and fruit skins, and a little Mohammedan, who had been making a perch to which Texas could be chained when on deck, came with deep salaams to beg that they would step and see if it were satisfactory. They expressed themselves much pleased, but Faith pointed to the long chain attached, and said.
"I don't like that! It makes me think of dungeons and criminals."
"But we'd lose him without it," urged Hope.
"I suppose so. I'm glad, though, my pet is a cat, and does not need chains or cages, I'm going to tell the babies a story in the little saloon, Hope, if you want me. They like it before they have to go to bed."
An hour or so later the girls were resting idly in their own stateroom, when Faith asked, suddenly. "What do you think of my lady? Do you like her any better?"
"You mean Lady Moreham? Yes, I think I do. What was she saying to you, anyhow, in the placa?"
"Not much. Simply asking questions. I did the talking."
"I thought at first she was horrid—proud and cross, you know,"—continued Hope, who was lolling indolently on the dimity-covered seat, in a loose gown, "but I'm not so certain of it, now. There's something about her—I wonder if father ever knew her before? He seems friendly with her, don't you think?"
"Oh, he's friendly with everybody; it's his business to be. And, of course, she is an important personage. But she kept me talking about Brookline, to-day—you remember the pretty place just out from Boston don't you?—and it seemed odd she should care about it. And did you notice, yesterday, whenever we spoke of—"
"Yes, I did. You can't mention America but she wakes up. Other times she doesn't even seem to hear. Perhaps she has been there, after all."
"Possibly. I wonder what she is going out to India for?"
"Oh, to join her husband, probably. That's what all the ladies go for, isn't it?"
A tap at the door and their father's voice.
"Asleep, girlies?"
"Oh no, papa," cried Hope, throwing the door open. "We are up yet, and as wide awake as hawks."
"All right! Get into your ulsters, and come up to the pilot-house. There's a fresh breeze springing up from N.N.E. that will send us spinning on our way, when we can catch it. As soon as we get a good offing, you'll see as pretty a sight as you need ever expect to—the old 'International' under full canvas making her eighteen knots an hour for Gibraltar—lively now!"
In a moment they were beside him, hastening to the elevated turret, with its outlook in every direction, and presently the girls were enchanted to watch the lively rattling of ropes and shrouds, the rapid unfurling of the great sails, that snapped to place as if clapping giant hands in joy. When these caught the breeze and braced themselves to duty, there was a sort of thrill along the good ship, as if she had responded with one quick heart-beat. Then, fair, still, magnificent, she glided away, leaving the twinkling lights of city and harbor to fade out in distance—first those low on the water, then the street lights on the terraces, and lastly one lone gleam in a distant tower that, like a friendly eye, still gazed after them when, far out in the open, they sailed smoothly on, the fires banked, and Steam gracefully yielding place to his older brother, Wind.
When they awoke, next morning, the engines were at work again, and their heavy thud, thud, was mingled with the swash of water, as the Bengali boys washed down decks, while a rattling of spars and creaking of cordage showed that sails were being set, or lowered.
Hope, always wide awake at once, sprang from her little white couch to find that it was difficult to keep her footing on the sliding plane of her stateroom floor, but slipping into gown and ulster as quickly as possible, and bracing herself with extended hands through the narrow passageway to the deck, she was soon outside, gasping a little in the fresh wind that met her full in the face and caught her breath away. For the ship was now headed for the Straits, and steaming almost in the teeth of the brisk northeaster.
There was not a hint of land, as far as the eye could see, and the waters, of a deep, cold blue, were white-capped to the horizon's edge. She felt dizzy, and most uncertain on her feet, but not six feet distant was a heap of low camp-chairs, huddled together out of the way of the still dripping deck planks. If she could reach one and get to leeward of that capstan—but what should she hold on to meanwhile?
And, even as she asked herself the question, the goodly steamer, happening to dip her lowest courtesy to a rude in-coming wave of giant proportions, shipped its combing crest, that poured through the latticed guard-rail and swirled across the deck, with a force, that sent poor Hope a drenched, doubled-up little heap of helplessness, pounding right into the midst of the chair-stack.
Before she had time to cry out, however, she was caught up, and her father's voice, hoarse and frightened, asked quickly,
"Are you hurt, love?—Are you hurt?"
As she looked up into his anxious face, pale beneath the sun-bronze, Hope fully realized how deeply her father loved her, and answered in a much subdued voice,
"No, papa—not much. I think I've barked my knees and bumped my head, but I guess that's all—except the wetting!" shivering a little.
"Yes, you mustn't take cold. I'll help you right back, and send Martha to you. You'd better crawl into your little nest again as soon as you're thoroughly dry, and don't venture outside again until I come and get you, my storm-bird."
"Father," she said, as he was about leaving her at the cabin door, "do youneversleep? I left you up at midnight, and I find you up at dawn."
"Sleep? Oh, yes, sometimes. That's the last thing a captain thinks of, though. If I should sleep too much it might mean an eternal sleep for my passengers and crew. Now hurry into bed and get warm, chicken. I'll see that you have some hot chocolate at once."
It was nearly two hours later, and Hope had quite slept off the effects of her wetting, when the two girls ventured forth again, but now the motion was still and even, and the old ship steady as a house floor, for they were under the lee of Cape Trafalgar, making swift time for Tarifa and the Straits.
As the girls sat lazily, after their morning's outlook, in the pleasant saloon, amid a group of ladies and children, listening to the cheerful chatter going on about them, and laughing at the antics of the little tots playing about in charge of their gaily-turbaned Indian ayahs, or nurses, Dwight came in, all excitement, and cried,
"Come, girls, we're going to have an exhibition. Loo Wing has made an elegant kite—regular Chinese one, you know—and we're going to fly it from the after-deck. Hurry up!"
They hastily followed his rush around the guards, and after them trailed all the children old enough to run alone, and many of the mothers, for anything new is welcome at sea. On the after-deck they found the captain, Mr. Lawrence, Mr. Malcolm, and other passengers, assisting the cook's boy, Loo Wing, inputting the last touches to a singular erection of red, yellow, and purple, made of crinkled paper, which looked like a hybrid creature, half bird, half dragon.
Loo Wing had it in hand, and Mr. Lawrence was adjusting its immensely long tail, while the captain was paying out twine from a stick.
"Oh, uncle!" called Dwight in an agonized voice, "you know I was to start it. Loo Wing promised I should."
"Well, well, who said you weren't? We're only making ready. But be careful and not let it get tangled in the rigging," was quickly returned.
"No, indeed!" cried the boy, trembling with excitement, as he received from the smiling oriental the gaudy thing, and started for the taffrail eager to see it off on its aerial journey.
But he was in too great a hurry, and despite warning cries from Captain Hosmer, Loo Wing, and the Bengali boy, who was supposed to be polishing the brass rod of the taffrail, he sent the kite up just in season for a contrary puff of wind to catch its extended wings, and blow it squarely into the topmost shrouds and ratlines of the mizzen-mast, where, entangled in the network of ropes, it fluttered helplessly.
Poor Dwight was almost beyond speaking in his despair, when the little Bengali, with a swift, beseeching look at his captain, sprang forward and ran up the rope-ladder with the lithe, quick motion of a monkey.
"Oh, don't let him!" cried Faith, but her father only laughed.
"He's used to it, don't worry!" he said, and thus assured, they watched the brown lad's dizzy climb until the kite was reached. Here, hanging on by his toes, apparently, to the cross-bar, he bent over and loosened the erratic flyer. Then, holding it far out, he looked down for further orders.
"Shall he let her go, Master Dwight?" said the captain. "It's your kite to command. Here's the twine, and hang tight, if he does, for 'twill give you a strong pull."
"Yes, let her fly!" cried Dwight, excitedly, bracing himself and gazing upwards.
The little Indian waited for a favorable instant, then with a prolonged "Hi-yi!" that drew the attention of all on board, gave it a light toss to leeward, which sent it off like a bird, indeed. Luckily, it had not been torn by its temporary delay, and now, caught aft by the wind, it sailed up and away with a force that fairly dragged Dwight across the deck until, laughing heartily, the captain eased him by a grasp on the twine, until he could "get another cinch," as the lad explained, and pay it out more rapidly.
It really made a beautiful appearance against the blue sky, with its gay colors and extended wings, and Loo Wing clapped his hands in delight, while the passengers cheered lustily. They watched it till it was a mere speck in the canopy, and Dwight greatly amused the little ones by sending up "letters," or bits of white paper, on the twine. But after an hour or two of this fun, the captain sang out,
"Better tie your bird to the taffrail and take a look for'ards pretty soon. 'Twill pay for the trouble."
They acted upon his advice, making a rush for the forward deck, and saw that it was well worth a longer journey than from end to end of a great steamer.
They were nearing the Straits; already Tarifa's white fortress was smiling in friendly fashion across the narrowing waters, while, on the other hand, the hazy spurs of Atlas outlined the African coast. And as they gazed delightedly, with much laughter over the roughening waves, which made it necessary for them to wedge themselves into convenient nooks in order to stand upright, they saw great Gibraltar looming up somber, massive, and gray-blue, with the frown of a giant defying the universe.
No wonder the ancients thought these opposite heights, so impregnable, so sentinel-like, were gates set by the gods to define earth's outer boundaries, beyond which the most daring mariner must never sail.
As our friends watched the broad slope of Calpe, lying in the full sunshine of a brilliant noon, its ledges bristling with bastions and cannon, above the little town which seems to nestle beneath in contented safety, Faith turned to her sister with kindling eyes.
"Now, aren't you proud of our mother, England? Where in all the world is there such another fortress commanding the entrance to two oceans, and looking down upon two continents, I'd like to know?"
Hope looked up in amazement.
"Well, Faith, I never heard you soar into such eloquence, before. You have subjugated me! What shall I do? Sing 'God save the Queen,' or shout 'For England and St. George'? I'm at your service. But then," she added mischievously, "I don't think it was such a wonderful thing for its garrison to hold out over three years, as our history tells us they did, for what could all the warships France and Spain might bring, ever accomplish against that solid rock?"
"Ah! but it was a gallant resistance, just the same!" cried Mr. Lawrence, as he joined them. "There has, perhaps, never been such a fierce and prolonged bombardment as that, and Europe looked on with wonder, as every resource of two great nations was brought to bear against that garrison of seven thousand men, who could not be starved, nor conquered. It looked black for them, sometimes, but British endurance and red-hot shot won the day, and the carnage on board those ill-fated vessels during the last of the fierce engagement was beyond anything recorded in history. They simplyhadto give it up!"
As they now slowly steamed up the beautiful bay it was almost like sailing over a mill-pond, after the past roughness, for it lay still beneath the vertical sun, and was thronged with shipping of every description and nationality. Presently there came a reverberation that seemed to ricochet from rock and wave, and a little girl cried blankly,
"Oh dear! Are they firing at us?"
But an officer called out,
"No, it's a Russian corvette, saluting. See its dragon flag of black and yellow? Now—watch!"
He pointed shorewards just as a puff of white smoke issued from an innocent-looking clump of trees on the rocky hillside, which preceded the sound of an answering boom from the iron lips of the fortress. This was repeated many times, the hoarse cannon barks alternating between gun-ship and shore, in an awe-inspiring exchange of courtesies. As the girls grew used to the thunderous sounds they delighted to speculate from which bastion, or ledge, or flowering bush, would come that little puff of smoke, to be followed by the lightning and thunder of man's invention, scarcely less terrible than those of nature's cloud contests.
"I'm glad to have seen it," said Faith somewhat tremulously, when the salvo was over. "It gives one some idea of what it might be if that fortress were really firing for business. Just think how dreadful!"
"But do tell me," cried her sister, "how can trees and shrubs grow so luxuriantly on that rocky soil, and what keeps the houses from blowing off some of those steep cliffs? Do you know, I never supposed there were any houses, before. I thought, from the pictures, that the rock went straight up out of the water, with the fort stuck on top, like a thimble on a big chocolate caramel. But here's a regular town."
Mr. Lawrence laughed.
"It's odd, the ideas we get of places till we see them! To be sure, the rock is nearly perpendicular to the north and east, but here, as you see, it makes a long slope to the water's edge, and the cliff is broken into many elevations. Of course, you'll go ashore and take a closer look at it all?"
"Yes, father's going with us. We'll be here quite a while to take on coal, and he wants us to see the galleries, and the signal-station."
"And I want to see the tailless monkeys," added Dwight, as he joined them. "We'll have a procession to brag of, for nearly everybody's going ashore. Mr. Malcolm's to lead the van with the children, he says, and Mrs. Campbell is to close up the rear of his section, while mother follows with ours. They've been laughing about it over there. Ah, there's Bess beckoning! Be sure and join us, girls."
"Yes, when father comes. Goody! here he is. We're all ready, papa."
"So am I, but you'll have to wait till I've attended to my papers—but it won't take long. Just follow on."
The passengers were soon streaming shorewards over the long pier, and sniffing with delight the fresh odor of flowers that filled the air, which, to Hope, was a continual wonder, for she could not yet accept the fact of lovely English gardens on this gray old rock.
A walk through the paved streets, with their home-like dwellings, stores, churches, and official buildings only increased this wonder, and her stock of adjectives was soon exhausted. Mr. Malcolm, naturally, led them first to the market, where business called him, and here the girls were specially interested in the flowers, some of the booths being fancifully arranged with a bewildering display.
The people they met seemed of every complexion and country, from groups of tourists in the latest fashion to a couple of long-robed Parsees, with their funny little caps perched above their black polls. Bess indicated another passer-by, and said in a low tone, "What an old maid of a man!" and certainly, with his straight gown, and a high comb stuck up in his back hair which was coiled into a tight knot, the dark-skinned fellow did strongly suggest a typical spinster.
Even Hope looked pleased, and Faith's eyes glittered as a small company of British soldiery, from the barracks, in red coats and white helmets, and with fresh young faces, came clattering down the street, and returned the greetings of the gentlemen, and smiles of the ladies, with their military salute, and a second glance in the direction of their pretty young countrywomen.
Some of the party, who were not good climbers, had been accommodated with donkeys at the hotel, before starting for the galleries, but many walked, and it was a long and somewhat straggling procession.
The galleries mentioned are long passageways, cut through the solid rock, and pierced with portholes at regular intervals, so that the gun-muzzles, which peer through them, can command town, bay, and neutral ground. Faith, whose reverence for this old citadel grew every minute, felt that the clatter of the donkey's heels, the gay calling back and forth, and the cries of the children ought, in these dim tunnels, to be hushed into awed silence. But no one else seemed so impressed, though the men made measurements and discussed the labor and expense of such enginery, as if it were a great achievement.
As they emerged she found herself close by Lady Moreham, also walking, who remarked carelessly,
"You look solemn, Miss Hosmer."
"Do I? I think all this strength and power are wonderful, don't you, my lady?"
"Yes, and awful! It oppresses me. When England lays her hand on anything it is a heavy hand. The victim must yield, or die."
"And yet, surely our people are comfortable and wisely ruled? We are a happy nation."
"Perhaps—of course. I was speaking of her in the abstract, merely. But is it not true that the marked characteristic of all Englishmen is tyranny? Don't they rule wherever they go? Aren't they always and everywhere the dominant class—the oppressors? Watch the British tourist in any far country. Does he ever conform to its customs in the least? No, he forces them to come to his ways. You will see this in every port we enter, every hotel we visit. English ideas govern everything."
"But why shouldn't they?" asked Faith, feeling as if rather beyond her depth, but bound to be loyal to her country. "If they have conquered these people, haven't they the right to make laws for them?"
"Oh, laws! Yes. But not to strip them of all originality, all independent thought and manner. They need not change their tastes, their habits, their traditions—but there! what does a girl like you know, or care, about all this, to be sure? Your wings have never felt the cold shears of British superiority, nor your heart been wounded by the sneers and scorn of her aristocracy."
She smiled bitterly, and Faith was puzzled to know what she could mean when she, herself, was a distinguished member of the class she seemed to take issue with.
They were separated then, and Faith borne on by the younger ones, but as she looked out over the bay, with its forest of shipping, and down at the terraced streets just below, she thought it a strange thing that so favored a woman should rail at her own country and kinsmen. It oppressed her loyal little heart, for she had begun to like the titled lady, and hated to find so grave a flaw in her nature.
The signal house, perched like an eagle's nest on its rocky spur, proved intensely interesting, though it was difficult to remember what all the instruments were for, while the signal flags and their many combinations were a complete mystery. Perhaps they enjoyed all the more the visit to the tailless monkeys, that Dwight insisted upon later, where they did not expect to be learned, but only to look and laugh to their young hearts' content.
Dwight was anxious to own one, but his uncle resisted his entreaties, declaring that monkeys—with, or without tails—would be a drug in the market long before they returned to New York.
It was late afternoon when they steamed out of the New Mole, and as they looked back upon the precipitous eastern face of Gibraltar, and watched the signal station, which now seemed sitting on a mere knife-edge of rock, and the roads winding up like paths for birds to light on, it did not seem as if they could have found them so roomy when on the spot. In dreamy mood Faith watched the surf, ceaselessly beating itself against that massive wall, only to fall back bruised and broken. It saddened her, and she was not surprised, after the first shock of it, to see that Lady Moreham, standing near by, was gazing also, with tear-filled eyes.
As Faith discovered her emotion, the lady, believing herself unobserved, turned with a gesture that was eloquent of despair, and Faith heard her murmuring, "It is like my life—oh! pitiless, pitiless."
Half frightened, the girl slipped behind an intervening barrier, and stole away.
"Poor lady!" she thought, almost in tears herself. "I would not have her know I heard for anything. What can make her so unhappy? She seems to have no friends, no country. I do not believe it is pride, either, nor any feeling of rank and exclusiveness that keeps her so shut in, else why should she be so pleasant to me? It is some great misery, I'm sure. God help, and pity her!"
I think it must have been half nightmare, or perhaps too much frozen pudding at dinner, after the long warm tramp up Gibraltar's steep sides; at any rate it all happened just as I tell you. Hope retired somewhat earlier than the rest, leaving Faith in the saloon, where the passengers were enjoying an impromptu concert given by a Romany man and his two daughters, who had come on board at Gibraltar to exhibit their skill with mandolin, tambourine, voice, and guitar.
It grew a bit monotonous and shrill, after the novelty wore off, and as Hope had become interested in a book some one had lent her, which told about the old pirates of Algiers and their traffic in Christian slaves, she stole away to her stateroom, slipped into a loose gown, and turning on the electric light at her bedhead, settled down for an enjoyable evening.
It proved to be a blood-curdling narrative, filled with the accounts of helpless crews butchered by pirates and their passengers, men, women, and children carried off in chains, to be sold as slaves in the wicked old Algerian city. Yet, though so thrilling, she was very tired, and in time it was difficult to keep her place and realize just what it was all about. Half mechanically, at last, she turned off the light and lay back on her pillow where, in less time than it takes to tell it, she was sound asleep. Still, however, the pirates of her book mingled with her dreams, which were so horrible she struggled into wakefulness—to find herself drenched with perspiration while shivering with horror. Anxious for companionship to counteract the effect of these evil visions, she reached out an arm to the other little bed and whispered, "Faith!"
With a shock she discovered that the bed was smooth and empty; it had not been occupied. At the same instant she became aware of whispering voices just without the porthole above her bed, and a sentence or two proved they were not English-speaking voices, either, but those of orientals, of whom, as you know, there were many on shipboard. At first she could not understand a word, they spoke so low and rapidly, but presently she heard with clearness the sentence,
"But ee mus' be kill eef she do care! It can no be help, now."
Then more whispers, and then again, distinctly, one urging the other to attend to the matter at once, the quicker the better, "foh eet gotta be," and a word or two about the "Capitan Sahib," which she could not catch.
But, in her abnormal, excited state, she had heard enough. Trembling from the tragedies of sleep, she thought she had fallen into the greater ones of reality. These men were going to kill somebody—and "she" was to feel dreadfully about it. It must be that the "Capitan Sahib" was to fall a victim to their mutinous designs!
Almost paralyzed with horror she lay still an instant, incapable of movement, then there was a rushing back of suspended animation as she felt that Faith might already have suffered, that her father's life was now in danger and there was not an instant to lose. Upon her prompt action might depend his life, and the safety of all on board.
Casting off her own terror with the resolve of desperation, she sprang up and sped into the cabin. It was dark and empty. She passed through it into the little stateroom, and with a whispered, "Papa! Papa!" felt along the bunk. It too was empty and untumbled.
Oh, was she too late?
Still under the mental influence that made her believe hours must have passed during her dreamings, she felt it must be nearing morning now—that it was the depth of the night, in those darkest watches when all evil deeds are done, and she was stiff and cold with terror. She slipped out upon the deck, lying still and shadowy under its awnings, sped across it like a shadow herself, and so on and up to the bridge.
Her father, calmly talking with one of his officers, saw the swift, silent rush, and the next instant heard an agonized, "O father! father!" as the poor child threw herself into his arms, Then, clinging tightly, she broke out again before he could speak.
"Oh, save sister! Be quick and save her!"
"Save her? What—where—what ails you, child? What has happened?"
"And save yourself! Get the men together—the white men—"
"My child, are you asleep? What is the matter—where have you been?Why, you are shaking like a leaf!"
He drew her to one side, and the officer discreetly vanished. Hope begged again, "Save her, oh, save Faith!"
"Faith? Aren't you Faith? I thought you were. Is this my dauntlessHope, then? Why, how strange! Tell me everything."
"It's those awful Lascars, papa. I've always been afraid of them, they look so big and black. They're planning to kill somebody—to kill you—and Faith is gone already."
"Gone? What nonsense is this? She's in the cabin, likely. You must have a nightmare, Hope!"
"But isn't it most morning, papa?"
"Not anywhere near it—nor midnight either. Faith is somewhere about, and as for killing—absurd! This isn't one bit like you, child. Haven't you been dreaming?"
She told him then of her horrible awakening, and repeated the talk she had heard below the porthole.
"Humph!" he said. "You're mistaken in their designs, but they certainly had no business in that part of the ship. I must see about that. Come; I'll take you in and hunt up sister." This was said in a rather loud voice, made stern by his surprise and annoyance. In a moment it softened. "There, there, don't tremble so, my child; it's all right, and everybody is safe enough."
He led her into the cabin, quickly flooded it with electric light, and, summoning a boy, sent him for Mrs. Jordan, who soon appeared. Briefly mentioning that his daughter had a slight chill and he would leave her to look after the child, he started off. Hope was scarcely tucked up again when her sister came in, looking rather conscious, and blushing a little.
"Are you ill, dear?" she cried. "Papa said you had a nightmare and a chill. He is quite upset, and a little cross."
"Oh, where have you been?" returned Hope reproachfully. "I was so frightened when I found you gone."
"Gone? Why, I haven't been in, yet. You went to bed so early, Hope! It's only about half-past ten. I've been walking the deck—it's a lovely night, as soft and warm as can be."
"With Dwight?" asked Hope languidly, for in Martha Jordan's practised hands she was growing warm and drowsy again.
"N-no, not Dwight," answered Faith hesitantly. "I'll tell you about it soon. Here comes papa."
She opened the door into his cabin, and gave a cry of horrified surprise. "Oh, oh! how did it happen?"
"What?" shrieked Hope, all nerves again.
"There! Be quiet now," said her father, and entered quickly, carrying a limp little bundle of fawn and white.
"Hafiz! It's Hafiz! What has happened? Is he dead?"
"I'm afraid he is. Your Lascars turned out to be our Mohammedans, Huri and his brother, two as faithful creatures as I have on board. It seems Hafiz, for some reason, found himself weary of first-cabin passage, so made his way into the fo'castle, where a dog belonging to one of the men took after him, and hurt him badly. Huri found him and saw he must be finished, but hated to do it, and, with his brother, was discussing the matter while looking for you girls. Faith, where have you been this last hour or so?"
The girl's eyes were flooded with tears for her lost pet, and involuntarily his face softened as he turned to her. She flushed a little, but answered at once, "On the upper deck, sir."
"Ah! that was you then? I saw the couple promenading there. Well, well, you'd better keep with your sister after this, and look after your own passengers," with a glance at the dead cat, "instead of mine, eh? Now, now, Hope, don't cry so!" for, quite worn out by all this excitement, the girl was sobbing in a somewhat hysterical manner.
"Yes, that's enough!" cried Martha in her hearty way. "No use crying over spilled milk, nor dead pets—even when they're Persian cats. You'll find there are one or two more in the world, I guess. Now just cuddle down there and keep still, or we'll have to give you a dose of something to quiet you, and it's bitter stuff to take, I can tell you. Perhaps, if you'll just curl in beside her, Miss Faith, she'll ease down sooner."
The stewardess was right, for when Hope felt her twin's tender arms about her she soon grew quiet, and as soon as they were alone whispered with much interest, "But who was with you on deck, Faith?"
"Well I'll tell you, and it's nothing to make such a fuss over, either. Do you remember that young officer we saw bidding his mother and sister good-by at Portsmouth—the ones that were so quiet about it?"
"Oh, yes; and his sweetheart too."
"No, that was his cousin, who lives with them. I got acquainted with him to-night, and he is a real gentleman. We were walking up and down, and he was telling me about his people, and his service in India. He is to be a sort of traveling officer to take out recruits, you see. He's delighted with the appointment, but his father was lost in a monsoon on the Indian Ocean, a few years ago, and it nearly killed his mother to let him go—she is sort of superstitious about it. Don't you remember how she fainted?"
"Yes, indeed. Poor lady! And he is nice, is he?"
"Yes and intelligent, but bashful. He said he had often watched us, and can never tell us apart, but he thinks he'll be able to, after this."
"Oh, he does?" giggled Hope. "I'll wager I could fool him any day, if I tried. Well, you gave me a nice fright while you were having such a good time," and thereupon she told her tale as you have just heard it, and so short a step is it from tragedy to comedy, especially in youth, that they both laughed over it until they fell asleep.
Meanwhile, on deck, a watchful father saw a young man standing near the gunwale in idle contemplation of the horizon, and accosted him with a pleasant word to which the other responded with readiness, though his manner was somewhat diffident. The two talked some time, the older man becoming more and more interested in a youth who, with a real manliness of character, was yet as bashful as a schoolboy. Before the conversation ended Captain Hosmer was convinced there was not only "no harm in the fellow," but that he was a young man worth cultivating, and, as he finally left him, chuckled to himself.
"Ah! these girls. They require an awful sight of looking after, but sometimes their instincts are as good as our judgments. Faith is a little woman with her mother's own purity. How she used to worry for fear I should grow hard and wicked in my rough life. Ah! my Helen, wherever you are, to-night, know that I am trying to keep myself steering straight for the Port that you have reached—and, God helping me, I will bring the babies safe along, too!"
He bowed his head on his hands a minute, and the old steersman, watching him, thought, with affectionate sympathy.
"The capt'n's tired to-night, and no wonder. Wish he'd turn in and get a good rest for once, Never saw a man so faithful, bless him! Glad he's got them nice little girls to make him brace up these days—sometimes I think as he's getting old too fast."
The next morning the twins were late in rising only to find it a summer's day, apparently, so balmy indeed that the deck seemed to be blossoming out into a flower-bed, as group after group of ladies appeared in gay lawns and organdies, while all the Mohammedan helpers were busy stretching double awnings where there had been single ones, or none at all, and rigging up the punkahs in the saloons. These odd fans, which England has borrowed, name and all, from her East Indian colonies, were, on the "International," tricolored (red, white, and blue) strips of cloth, stretched over light wire frames of a rectangular shape, which were attached to the ceiling and also, by means of a long rope, to a black-eyed Bengali boy who sat just outside the door, on deck, and kept them waving by a slow, constant jerk and pull, which was so regular that Faith declared the boy slept half the time, and possibly she was right. The ocean lay peacefully about them, its color almost an indigo, so deeply blue was it in the shadow of the vessel, but out a little way silvered by the vertical sun, which shone with a blinding splendor that made colored eye-glasses a relief to the dazzled vision.
It is in such weather that mischief breeds on shipboard, and gossip is rife. The idle passengers, by this time mostly on speaking terms, begin to let the common metal of their real make-up show through the nickel-plating of the first interchange of courtesies.
There was a group whom our special friends had not yet mingled with quite freely, though always meeting them in pleasant fashion, but as everybody clustered sociably on the forward deck, this morning, anxious to catch the ship's own breeze, if no other, they might naturally become better acquainted. Of these only a few affect our little history, therefore need description; first, a mother and two daughters going out to the husband and father in India. Mrs. Windemere was a little woman with an habitually scared expression and retiring manner, but her daughters, both well towards thirty, must have taken after the father, for they were domineering with her and self-assertive everywhere. They claimed relationship with some person who bore a title, and were given to talking a good deal about their aristocratic relatives, and they dressed conspicuously, demanded constant attention from any gentlemen present, and were full of news and rumors.
With them was a young woman of like age, whom they familiarly called Zaidee, who had spent much time in India, and had caught its languor, possibly. She was more agreeable in manner and pretended indifference to all that the "girls," as she called them, were interested in; dressed quietly, but in excellent taste, and talked in her dreamy, drawling voice in a way that seemed to interest all who listened, especially the gentlemen, who were usually grouped around her chair whenever she appeared on deck. There were plenty of these, from Indian officials of rank to subalterns and young gentlemen of fortune, either with or without tutors, but who seemed much more interested in flirtations than scenery.
English girls do not, as a rule, assume the airs of womanhood so early as do many American maidens—to their credit be it said—and neither Hope nor Faith had ever thought of considering themselves young ladies. Though nearing eighteen their gowns were still of ankle length and their hair in simple braids, while, as we have seen, they enjoyed frolicking with Dwight as if not a day older. Elizabeth Vanderhoff, too, though two years older, was still a girl at heart, and had not yet discovered that no company was complete without its young men.
The officer who had been walking with Faith, last night, was also a boyish fellow, fair and fresh of face and had been more attracted to our girls and their frolics than to the older young ladies, with more social airs and graces. Though Faith had felt somewhat confused, last night, at her father's raillery, her meeting and talk with the modest young fellow was innocent enough, in intention, had there been no one to misconstrue it, but in a carping world we must learn to avoid even the appearance of evil.
It happened that the little disturbance caused by Hope's bad dreams had not been quite unnoted, and was to bring rather disagreeable consequences, as we shall see. But, this morning, there was no hint of trouble in the air and, gathered under the deck awnings, the passengers presented a scene pretty and peaceful enough.
Faith, industriously inclined, was at work on a piece of embroidery, Hope had the piratical book in her hand, but was leaning idly back, watching Mrs. Vanderhoff, who was playing with one of the little tots, and visiting in desultory fashion with Bess, who was trying a new stitch in crochet and interposed a count, or two, between syllables. The Windemere family, all with their work, except Mrs. Campbell, who never seemed to have anything to do, were at a little distance—the two young ladies talking to the distinguished traveler previously mentioned, who seemed a trifle bored, and Mrs. Campbell being talked to by a couple of government attachés, whose boyish laughter rang out frequently.
Presently, the officer of Faith's acquaintance, whose name was Carnegie, came towards the former group and bashfully bade her a good-morning which she brightly returned, hastening to present him to her sister and friends. Soon they were all in animated chat, and the young attachés in Mrs. Campbell's vicinity began to look that way with somewhat longing glances.
At length one of them, with some light excuse, sauntered away from her side, made a slow tour of the deck, and finally drew near our three girls; saying in passing.
"I've been looking for you, Carnegie."
The other, not having noticed the by-play, turned with a smile, and replied,
"Have you? I've been down among my men most of the morning. One of the poor fellows is ill. Not seasick, you understand, but a fever, I'm afraid." Then as the schemer came to a stop he said bashfully, "May I present Mr. Donelson, ladies?" and introductions followed.
Naturally Mr. Donelson was pleased at his success, and flung a laughing glance of triumph back at his comrade, who still sat at the lady's feet, though he, too, was beginning to fidget and look about for a way of escape. Mrs. Campbell had seen all with eyes that seemed to notice nothing, and was indignant enough, for she was inordinately vain, and desired attention even from boys, if no other was forthcoming. To have any one preferred before her was gall to her foolish pride. Besides the traveler, whom she was inclined to make a hero of, had seen, too, and though pretending still to talk to the Misses Laura and Janet Windemere, his eyes were twinkling with appreciation.
Mrs. Campbell was not a malicious woman, unless thwarted in her own plans; then she could be absolutely pitiless, and cared for neither truth nor justice in carrying out her spiteful revenges. Ridicule was something she could not endure, and to feel herself slighted made a fury of her. Yet her outward self-control was perfect. Now, with a dreamy look in her large blue-gray orbs, she gazed out to seaward, and remarked as if in a ruminant mood,