CHAPTER V
Frank Sanderson rode to the North River pier in a taxicab and Jim, his next older brother, who had always been a good chum of the aviator's, rode with him.
"Good of you to leave everything to see the last of me, Jim," the sandy one observed.
"By Jove, boy! I've a feeling that maybe itisthe last I shall see of you. I wish you were not so headstrong, Sandy."
The latter grinned at him.
"Seems to me I've heard something like that before. But it isn't that I'm so headstrong, old chap. You'd do the same if you were in my place. I'm foot-loose——"
"How about Stella and the kids?" put in Jim wickedly.
"They are amply provided for, as you know. I shall miss the kiddies, of course—cunning little busters! But Stella——"
"Is going to take on some when she knows you have gone."
"As long as the steamship is off Sandy Hook when she learns the Great Secret, what care I?" returned the aviator, shrugging his shoulders. "And do, for goodness sake, talk of something else. There may be a swift and messy end before me, but at least I sha'n't be talked to death by a Flora McFlimsey over there in France."
"No," Jim admitted. "There is something in that, I allow. However, I'll not weep over you yet, my boy. You've pulled through many a tight place and escaped many a threatened danger."
The other nodded. "I don't expect anything more serious to happen to me serving in the Lafayette Escadrille than might occur if I remained here and continued to make exhibition flights. Over there I'll be with the finest bunch of fellows in the world, and bedoing something."
"Ye-es," hesitated his brother. "But what are you going to do itforSandy?"
"Mixed reasons," returned the aviator frankly. "It's exciting, of course. Then, there is one's desire, when one can, to pitch in and help people who are putting up such a tremendously plucky fight as the French are. There's another, too."
"Yes?"
"It's coming to us. Before this thing is settled—war, I mean—and settled for good and all, Uncle Sam is bound to get into it."
"I'm afraid you are right, Sandy," sighed the more conservative Jim. "But I hate to see it come."
"Of course. All you conservative business men do. But you'd better be prepared," the younger man said, wagging his head. "And that's my main object in going to the war zone, after all."
"Preparedness?"
"In a way. When we get into the war—this war, or a war—the United States will need men with flying experience such as can be gained only in actual warfare. If I am spared," added the young man simply, "I shall be ready for service."
"Gad! That's right, Sandy. It's rather fine of you, too. But—it's so uncertain."
"Life is uncertain at best," returned the aviator, with his usual cheerfulness. "We'll look on the brighter side of it, if you please. This is no wake, Jim. The corpse is very much alive at present writing."
"That shoulder all right?"
"All right."
"They certainly did well by you at that hospital."
"I was the little white-headed boy there, for a fact," agreed the younger man.
"The big surgeon—what do they call him?"
"Herschall," growled the other, with suddenly clouded face.
"A brainy fellow," observed Jim. "And that pretty nurse—Miss Melnotte was she called? I had an idea you were smitten there, Sandy, and smitten hard."
"You never can judge by looking at a toad how far he will hop," returned the aviator coolly. If he had partially confided in the tart Miss Trivett, he was not wearing his heart on his sleeve for everybody to read.
"Well," Jim said soberly, "a man in your position has no business to try to tie up any woman's affections."
The sailing of even a large ship from the port of New York was no longer, in these war times, a gala occasion or the beginning of a pleasant sea adventure for its passengers. In general, parties coming aboard to speed those sailing were discouraged. A crowd was no more allowed to gather on the dock.
For this reason, perhaps, Frank Sanderson did not make the discovery when he went aboard that on an upper deck forward was a bevy of girls whom he certainly would have recognized. Instead, he and Jim sat in his stateroom and smoked until just before the ship's departure.
It was a cheerful party that he missed, and Sue Blaine was the life of it.
"My dear Belinda!" she cried, "you were always one of the plucky ones. It makes poor little me feel like a hap'orth o' nothing! But two years of hospital slavery is enough for me. And just think of what you are going up against now! The French wounded will be worse than those poor fellows they brought us out of that subway explosion that time—do you remember?"
"I have thought of all that," Belinda said quietly. "I have thought of their need and what I can do to help them. Oh, yes, Sue—I have thought of it."
"Trust Miss Melnotte for being both calm and literal," laughed somebody.
"Goodness, yes!" cried the volatile Sue Blaine, yet looking at her friend admiringly. "But I don't seewhyyou do it. If you were crossed in love, you couldn't be more desperate."
"Mercy!" gasped Miss Trivett, who was present, and who smiled at Belinda, though her shrewd eyes were ready for the betrayal of any secret. "Not our Belinda—never!"
The Red Cross recruit remained her usually placid self, even when the mischievous Sue Blaine went on to say:
"Of course, it wouldn't be the Herr Doktor? He will be desolate, I am sure."
"More likely one of her private patients," another of the party suggested. "Oh! The flying-man! I'm sure his roses were beautiful. I have mine at home yet."
"Be sure," stated Miss Trivett, "that if Miss Melnotte had cared anything for that boyyouwould have got none of his roses."
Belinda remained proof against all the raillery. The whistle blew and the girls hastened toward the nearest gangway after bidding their friend an affectionate good-by. But Sue Blaine came running back, her eyes dancing and increased mischief lighting her piquant face.
"Oh, you sharper!" she whispered, pinching Belinda's plump arm. "And you never said a word!"
"About what, dear?" her friend asked amazedly, yet kissing her again.
"He's here!" Sue Blaine hissed dramatically.
"For pity's sake!Whois here? Not—not Doctor Herschall?" and Belinda did not very successfully hide her anxiety.
"Nonsense! No! That perfectly splendid airman, Sandy Sanderson!"
"On this boat?" murmured Belinda feebly.
"Yes, ma'am! And he's going, too. His brother has just bidden him good-by and gone ashore. Didn't you know he was to sail? What fun! Wait till I tell the Herr Doktor. Wouldn't you like to see his face when I do?" And the mischief-loving Sue Blaine ran away before Belinda could make reply.
At least, she told herself, she was forewarned. She would not meet Frank Sanderson unexpectedly. He could not, of course, have known of her decision to join the Red Cross. Undoubtedly his own plans for the voyage had long since been made. Her sailing on theBelle o' Perthcould not have influenced him.
Nearly all of the visitors had gone ashore, but there was some delay in getting under way. Belinda, in a meditative mood, strolled along the deck. She was thinking of Sanderson and was somewhat startled when she heard his name mentioned.
She glanced to one side. A group of college boys were chatting gaily, just getting ready to leave the ship.
"Sanderson is on board, but Nevins didn't come," said one, disappointedly. "Too bad! I was counting on giving Dicky some good advice," and he laughed.
"Better give Sandy the advice," broke in another. "He needs it. The idea of an aviator like him tying fast to a girl like Stella!"
"And those kids!" added a third college boy.
"I understand he promised Jerry he'd do it. He was under obligations to Jerry. He just about had to marry her."
"Obligations be hanged! Think I'd marry a girl like Stella? All she thinks about is her looks. And she can talk down anybody she meets. Nixy, not for yours truly! I pity Sandy, I do!"
"We all do," affirmed a fourth of the group.
"Maybe that's why he's going to France—to escape from her."
"Like as not. If I was tied to a skirt like that I'd want to hike to the North Pole!"
The college boys passed on, out of Belinda's hearing and left the ship. The Red Cross nurse shrank back, her cheeks burning. She had heard every word. She walked on in a more thoughtful mood than ever.
Aunt Roberta always remained in her stateroom, and usually in her berth, until she was "attuned," as she termed it, to the motion of the ship. There was little, anyway, at this sailing, to keep one on deck. The ship was towed out into the stream and started seaward with no band playing and no cheering from the dock. Only the whistled farewells of other craft were as cheerful as usual.
The ship's lower decks were piled tier upon tier with stores, and she was bound for a French port. She would be a fair mark for a German submarine if one crossed her path. Although the Germans were supposedly giving the crews and passengers of merchant ships a chance for their lives before sinking such craft, an experience in an open boat, even in calm, pleasant weather, was not to be looked upon lightly.
Therefore, those who sailed upon theBelle o' Perthwhen she left the port of New York supposedly had serious reason for making the voyage. Later, however, Belinda discovered among the first cabin group one individual who had come along for the excitement of the trip.
She met this person at dinner on the first evening out. Belinda was alone, Aunt Roberta being served with tea and toast in her room. The first officer, who was a socially inclined soul and an American, could not bear to see so pretty a girl eating her dinner in silence. On the other side of Aunt Roberta's empty chair was a nattily dressed old gentleman, with a great shock of white hair and a moustache equally white. His clothing was blue and of naval cut.
"Miss Melnotte," said the first officer, reading her card, "I want you to know Cap'n Raphael Dexter," and he nodded to the old gentleman. "Now, you be nice to her, Cap'n Raphe. Miss Melnotte's all alone just now."
"Honored, Miss Melnotte," declared the captain, with old-fashioned courtesy. "If I can say anything to help keep your mind off your troubles, I shall be glad."
His face was very brown and there were innumerable wrinkles about the eyes, as is usually the case with plainsmen and seamen—those who gaze across great distances; but the eyes themselves twinkled liked cut-steel beads.
"How do you know I have any troubles, Captain Dexter?" she asked.
"Why, I am the only person on this craft, I opine, who is travelin' for pleasure," he said, watching her quizzically. "People don't sail in war time—at least, notthiswar time—without bein' in trouble of some sort. Eh?"
With his head on one side as he asked the question, he looked somewhat like a shrewd old cockatoo.
"It is true I am not crossing for pleasure," she admitted, and told him her object in sailing for the shores of France.
"Plucky girl! Yes, the French are making a wonderfully good fight. We couldn't have done better ourselves," declared this staunch American. "I'm Yankee—the real stock. Clear back to the Revolution and beyond. I fought in the Rebellion. Would you think it? Powder monkey on Admiral Farragut's flagship," he pursued proudly. "Enlisted and lied about my age at twelve—and for a liar I made a pretty good fighter," he chuckled. "The admiral himself saidthatwhen I was laid up in sick-bay with a bit of shell in my leg. I carry that scar—and a limp in damp weather—to this day."
"Oh, you have seen real fighting at sea, then?" Belinda said, with interest.
"Yes, ma'am! Hist!" whispered Captain Dexter, leaning nearer. "That's why I am aboard thisBelle o' Perth."
She looked her surprise and misunderstanding.
"Hopin' to see a scrap. Bless you, Miss! I was retired from the sea—let alone from the navy—long ago. My darters are all pacifists—three of 'em. Prudence, Patience and Penelope. That was my wife's doin's." Vast disgust was expressed both in voice and features.
"What was?" asked Belinda, finding her interest in the curious old gentleman growing.
"Namin' those darters of mine." He always gave the word the old-fashioned New England pronunciation, although his speech was not much marred by a local twang. "I always managed to be at sea when the children were born and she had 'em christened one o' them outlandish names before I could make port. Long v'y'ges in those days. And we never had any boys.
"I could make up my mind," said Captain Dexter grimly, "that if there was a new baby on hand when I got home, it would be a gal and would have some milk-and-water name tacked on to it. By Hannah! I was always a fightin' man myself; but my wife ought to have been a Quaker."
"What would have been your choice of names for your girls?" Belinda asked, much amused.
"Something like Joan or Brunhild, Minerva or Judith—regular upstandin' names, those," he said promptly. "You see, Miss Melnotte, I believe the names children bear help form their characters. All my darters—Prudence, Patience and Penelope—are just as wishy-washy as the names sound."
"Oh, Captain Dexter!"
"Fact. Take it right now. All three opposed to war foranyreason. Full up with foolishness about this peace business—and peace at any price, too! By Hannah! scare't to death at me goin' to sea again—want me to settle down ashore like a tabby cat beside the kitchen stove."
"I presume they think you have done your share, Captain."
"My share! Ain't I as spry as ever I was? What's seventy-odd? My family have always run old Methuselah a close race. I had one uncle who lived to a hundred and three—and then choked to death on a fishbone!"
"You surely are well preserved," Belinda said flatteringly.
"'Preserved'! I'm pickled, Miss Melnotte. Pickled in salt brine and salt air. And nothin' must do—there wasn't any comfort for me—till I'd promised them three darters that I wouldn't sail a ship on the sea again. But," said I, "you can't keep meoffthe water. I'll take no active part; but the feel of deck planks under my feet I must have once in a while."
"They agreed to that," chuckled Captain Dexter. "Thought I'd be satisfied, I s'pose, to take a trip now and again on a canal-boat! By Hannah! they don't know where I am now—and won't know till some time to-morrow when the rural mail carrier gets to Penelope's house. She's the first one of the three on his route out of Old Saybrook."
"Why, then, you've run away!" exclaimed Belinda.
"Run away?" the captain snorted. "Me, a shipmaster of forty year standin'? By Hannah! I've given my darters the slip, I do allow. If they had their way with me I'd be wearin' a cap and knittin' tidies on the sunny side of the porch this very minute.
"I'm goin' across," concluded Captain Dexter, "to see something of this war. They can't scare me with talk about German raiders nor submarines. The way it looks to me, them undersea boats are only play-toys. They might sneak up on a ship's heels and do some damage; but mostly they wouldn't stand a show in an open fight with a craft like this, if she's properly handled."
"Oh, I hope we shall not meet a submarine!" the girl said earnestly.
"Well, I dunno as I can join you there, Miss," and the old shipmaster's grin was a good deal like that of a mischievous boy. "I've always wanted to see all the new things as they came out—telegraph, telephone, automobiles, these flying machines and all of Edison's wonders. Now I'd like to clap my old eyes on one o' these U-boats, as they call 'em—and see it in action, too!"