Meanwhilethe ladies were not having such a bad time, after all. Once having gained possession of the House-boat, they were loath to think of ever having to give it up again, and it is an open question in my mind if they would not have made off with it themselves had Captain Kidd and his men not done it for them.
“I’ll never forgive these men for their selfishness in monopolizing all this,” said Elizabeth, with a vicious stroke of a billiard-cue, which missed the cue-ball and tore a right angle in the cloth. “It is not right.”
“No,” said Portia. “It is all wrong; and when we get back home I’m going to give my beloved Bassanio a piece of my mind; and if he doesn’t give in to me,I’llreverse my decision in the famous case of ShylockversusAntonio.”
“Then I sincerely hope he doesn’t give in,” retorted Cleopatra, “for I swear by all my auburn locks that that was the very worst bit of injustice ever perpetrated. Mr. Shakespeare confided to me one night, at one of Mrs. Cæsar’s card-parties, that he regarded that as the biggest joke he ever wrote, and Judge Blackstone observed to Antony that the decision wouldn’t have held in any court of equity outside of Venice. If you owe a man a thousand ducats, and it costs you three thousand to get them, that’s your affair, not his. If it cost Antonio every drop of his bluest blood to pay the pound of flesh, it was Antonio’s affair, not Shylock’s. However, the world applauds you as a great jurist, when you have nothing more than a woman’s keen instinct for sentimental technicalities.”
“It would have made a horrid play, though, if it had gone on,” shuddered Elizabeth.
“That may be, but, carried out realistically, it would have done away with a raft of bad actors,” said Cleopatra. “I’m half sorry it didn’t go on, and I’m sure it wouldn’t have been any worse than compelling Brutus to fall on his sword until he resembles a chicken liveren brochette, as is done in that Julius Cæsar play.”
“Well, I’m very glad I did it,” snapped Portia.
“I should think you would be,” said Cleopatra. “If you hadn’t done it, you’d never have been known. What was that?”
The boat had given a slight lurch.
“Didn’t you hear a shuffling noise up on deck, Portia?” asked the Egyptian Queen.
“I thought I did, and it seemed as if the vessel had moved a bit,” returned Portia, nervously; for, like most women in an advanced state of development, she had become a martyr to her nerves.
“It was merely the wash from one of Charon’s new ferry-boats, I fancy,” said Elizabeth, calmly. “It’s disgusting, the way that old fellow allows these modern innovations to be brought in here! As if the old paddle-boats he used to carry shades in weren’t good enough for the immigrants of this age! Really this Styx River is losing a great deal of its charm. Sir Walter and I were upset, while out rowing one day last summer, by the waves kicked up by one of Charon’s excursion steamers going up the river with a party of picnickers from the city—the Greater Gehenna Chowder Club, I believe it was—on board of her. One might just as well live in the midst of the turmoil of a great city as try to get uninterrupted quiet here in the suburbs in these days. Charon isn’t content to get rich slowly; he must make money by the barrelful, if he has to sacrifice all the comfort of everybody living on this river. Anybody’d think he was an American, the way he goes on; and everybody else here is the same way. The Erebeans are getting to be a race of shopkeepers.”
“I think myself,” sighed Cleopatra, “that Hades is being spoiled by the introduction of American ideas—it is getting by far too democratic for my tastes; and if it isn’t stopped, it’s my belief that the best people will stop coming here. Take Madame Récamier’s salon as it is now and compare it with what it used to be! In the early days, after her arrival here, everybody went because it was the swell thing, and you’d be sure of meeting the intellectually elect. On the one hand you’d find Sophocles; on the other, Cicero; across the room would be Horace chatting gayly with some such person as myself. Great warriors, from Alexander to Bonaparte, were there, and glad of the opportunity to be there, too; statesmen like Macchiavelli; artists like Cellini or Tintoretto. You couldn’t move without stepping on the toes of genius. But now all is different. The money-getting instinct has been aroused within them all, with the result that when I invited Mozart to meet a few friends at dinner at my place last autumn, he sent me a card stating his terms for dinners. Let me see, I think I have it with me; I’ve kept it by me for fear of losing it, it is such a complete revelation of the actual condition of affairs in this locality. Ah! this is it,” she added, taking a small bit of pasteboard from her card-case. “Read that.”
The card was passed about, and all the ladies were much astonished—and naturally so, for it ran this wise:
NOTICE TO HOSTESSES.Owing to the very great, constantly growing, and at times vexatious demands upon his time socially,HERR WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZARTtakes this method of announcing to his friends that on and after January 1, 1897, his terms for functions will be as follows:
NOTICE TO HOSTESSES.
Owing to the very great, constantly growing, and at times vexatious demands upon his time socially,
HERR WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART
takes this method of announcing to his friends that on and after January 1, 1897, his terms for functions will be as follows:
Marks
Dinners with conversation on the Theory of Music
500
Dinners with conversation on the Theory of Music, illustrated
750
Dinners without any conversation
300
Receptions, public, with music
1000
,, ,, private, ,, ,,,
750
Encores (single)
100
Three encores for
150
Autographs
10
Positively no Invitations for Five-o’Clock Teas or Morning Musicales considered.
Positively no Invitations for Five-o’Clock Teas or Morning Musicales considered.
“Well, I declare!” tittered Elizabeth, as she read. “Isn’t that extraordinary? He’s got the three-name craze, too!”
“It’s perfectly ridiculous,” said Cleopatra. “But it’s fairer than Artemus Ward’s plan. Mozart gives notice of his intentions to charge you; but with Ward it’s different. He comes, and afterwards sends a bill for his fun. Why, only last week I got a ‘quarterly statement’ from him showing a charge against me of thirty-eight dollars for humorous remarks made to my guests at a little chafing-dish party I gave in honor of Balzac, and, worst of all, he had marked it ‘Please remit.’ Even Antony, when he wrote a sonnet to my eyebrow, wouldn’t let me have it until he had heard whether or not Boswell wanted it for publication in theGossip. With Rubens giving chalk-talks for pay, Phidias doing ‘Five-minute Masterpieces in Putty’ for suburban lyceums, and all the illustrious in other lines turning their genius to account through the entertainment bureaus, it’s impossible to have a salon now.”
“You are indeed right,” said Madame Récamier, sadly. “Those were palmy days when genius was satisfied with chicken salad and lemonade. I shall never forget those nights when the wit and wisdom of all time were—ah—were on tap at my house, if I may so speak, at a cost to me of lights and supper. Now the only people who will come for nothing are those we used to think of paying to stay away. Boswell is always ready, but you can’t run a salon on Boswell.”
“Well,” said Portia, “I sincerely hope that you won’t give up the functions altogether, because I have always found them most delightful. It is still possible to have lights and supper.”
“I have a plan for next winter,” said Madame Récamier, “but I suppose I shall be accused of going into the commercial side of it if I adopt it. The plan is, briefly, to incorporate my salon. That’s an idea worthy of an American, I admit; but if I don’t do it I’ll have to give it up entirely, which, as you intimate, would be too bad. An incorporated salon, however, would be a grand thing, if only because it would perpetuate the salon. ‘TheRécamierSalon (Limited)’ would be a most excellent title, and, suitably capitalized would enable us to pay our lions sufficiently. Private enterprise is powerless under modern conditions. It’s as much as I can afford to pay for a dinner, without running up an expensive account for guests; and unless we get up a salon-trust, as it were, the whole affair must go to the wall.”
“How would you make it pay?” asked Portia. “I can’t see where your dividends would come from.”
“That is simple enough,” said Madame Récamier. “We could put up a large reception-hall with a portion of our capital, and advertise a series of nights—say one a week throughout the season. These would be Warriors’ Night, Story-tellers’ Night, Poets’ Night, Chafing-dish Night under the charge of Brillat-Savarin, and so on. It would be understood that on these particular evenings the most interesting people in certain lines would be present, and would mix with outsiders, who should be admitted only on payment of a certain sum of money. The commonplace inhabitants of this country could thus meet the truly great; and if I know them well, as I think I do, they’ll pay readily for the privilege. The obscure love to rub up against the famous here as well as they do on earth.”
Madame Récamier has a plan
“You’d run a sort of Social Zoo?” suggested Elizabeth.
“Precisely; and provide entertainment for private residences too. An advertisement in Boswell’s paper, which everybody buys—”
“And which nobody reads,” said Portia.
“They read the advertisements,” retorted Madame Récamier. “As I was saying, an advertisement could be placed in Boswell’s paper as follows: ‘Are you giving a Function? Do you want Talent? Get your Genius at the Récamier Salon (Limited).’ It would be simply magnificent as a business enterprise. The common herd would be tickled to death if they could get great people at their homes, even if they had to pay roundly for them.”
“It would look well in the society notes, wouldn’t it, if Mr. John Boggs gave a reception, and at the close of the account it said, ‘The supper was furnished by Calizetti, and the genius by the Récamier Salon (Limited)’?” suggested Elizabeth, scornfully.
“I must admit,” replied the French lady, “that you call up an unpleasant possibility, but I don’t really see what else we can do if we want to preserve the salon idea. Somebody has told these talented people that they have a commercial value, and they are availing themselves of the demand.”
“It is a sad age!” sighed Elizabeth.
“Well, all I’ve got to say is just this,” put in Xanthippe: “You people who get up functions have brought this condition of affairs on yourselves. You were not satisfied to go ahead and indulge your passion for lions in a moderate fashion. Take the case of Demosthenes last winter, for instance. His wife told me that he dined at home three times during the winter. The rest of the time he was out, here, there, and everywhere, making after-dinner speeches. The saving on his dinner bills didn’t pay his pebble account, much less remunerate him for his time, and the fearful expense of nervous energy to which he was subjected. It was as much as she could do, she said, to keep him from shaving one side of his head, so that he couldn’t go out, the way he used to do in Athens when he was afraid he would be invited out and couldn’t scare up a decent excuse for refusing.”
“Did he do that?” cried Elizabeth, with a roar of laughter.
“So the cyclopædias say. It’s a good plan, too,” said Xanthippe. “Though Socrates never had to do it. When I got the notion Socrates was going out too much, I used to hide his dress clothes. Then there was the case of Rubens. He gave a Carbon Talk at the Sforza’s Thursday Night Club, merely to oblige Madame Sforza, and three weeks later discovered that she had sold his pictures to pay for her gown! You people simply run it into the ground. You kill the goose that when taken at the flood leads on to fortune. It advertises you, does the lion no good, and he is expected to be satisfied with confectionery, material and theoretical. If they are getting tired of candy and compliments, it’s because you have forced too much of it upon them.”
“They like it, just the same,” retorted Récamier. “A genius likes nothing better than the sound of his own voice, when he feels that it is falling on aristocratic ears. The social laurel rests pleasantly on many a noble brow.”
“True,” said Xanthippe. “But when a man gets a pile of Christmas wreaths a mile high on his head, he begins to wonder what they will bring on the market. An occasional wreath is very nice, but by the ton they are apt to weigh on his mind. Up to a certain point notoriety is like a woman, and a man is apt to love it; but when it becomes exacting, demanding instead of permitting itself to be courted, it loses its charm.”
“That is Socratic in its wisdom,” smiled Portia.
“But Xanthippic in its origin,” returned Xanthippe. “No man ever gave me my ideas.”
As Xanthippe spoke, Lucretia Borgia burst into the room.
“Hurry and save yourselves!” she cried. “The boat has broken loose from her moorings, and is floating down the stream. If we don’t hurry up and do something, we’ll drift out to sea!”
“What!” cried Cleopatra, dropping her cue in terror, and rushing for the stairs. “I was certain I felt a slight motion. You said it was the wash from one of Charon’s barges, Elizabeth.”
“I thought it was,” said Elizabeth, following closely after.
“Well, it wasn’t,” moaned Lucretia Borgia. “Calpurnia just looked out of the window and discovered that we were in mid-stream.”
The ladies crowded anxiously about the stair and attempted to ascend, Cleopatra in the van; but as the Egyptian Queen reached the doorway to the upper deck, the door opened, and the hard features of Captain Kidd were thrust roughly through, and his strident voice rang out through the gathering gloom. “Pipe my eye for a sardine if we haven’t captured a female seminary!” he cried.
The hard features of Captain Kidd were thrust through
And one by one the ladies, in terror, shrank back into the billiard-room, while Kidd, overcome by surprise, slammed the door to, and retreated into the darkness of the forward deck to consult with his followers as to “what next.”
“Here’sa kettle of fish!” said Kidd, pulling his chin whisker in perplexity as he and his fellow-pirates gathered about the captain to discuss the situation. “I’m blessed if in all my experience I ever sailed athwart anything like it afore! Pirating with a lot of low-down ruffians like you gentlemen is bad enough, but on a craft loaded to the water’s edge with advanced women—I’ve half a mind to turn back.”
“Here’s a kettle of fish!” said Kidd
“If you do, you swim—we’ll not turn back with you,” retorted Abeuchapeta, whom, in honor of his prowess, Kidd had appointed executive officer of the House-boat. “I have no desire to be mutinous, Captain Kidd, but I have not embarked upon this enterprise for a pleasure sail down the Styx. I am out for business. If you had thirty thousand women on board, still should I not turn back.”
“But what shall we do with ’em?” pleaded Kidd. “Where can we go without attracting attention? Who’s going to feed ’em? Who’s going to dress ’em? Who’s going to keep ’em in bonnets? You don’t know anything about these creatures, my dear Abeuchapeta; and, by-the-way, can’t we arbitrate that name of yours? It would be fearful to remember in the excitement of a fight.”
“Call him Ab,” suggested Sir Henry Morgan, with an ill-concealed sneer, for he was deeply jealous of Abeuchapeta’s preferral.
“If you do I’ll call you Morgue, and change your appearance to fit,” retorted Abeuchapeta, angrily.
“By the beards of all my sainted Buccaneers,” began Morgan, springing angrily to his feet, “I’ll have your life!”
“Gentlemen! Gentlemen—my noble ruffians!” expostulated Kidd. “Come, come; this will never do! I must have no quarrelling among my aides. This is no time for divisions in our councils. An entirely unexpected element has entered into our affairs, and it behooveth us to act in concert. It is no light matter—”
“Excuse me, captain,” said Abeuchapeta, “but that is where you and I do not agree. We’ve got our ship and we’ve got our crew, and in addition we find that the Fates have thrown in a hundred or more women to act as ballast. Now I, for one, do not fear a woman. We can set them to work. There is plenty for them to do keeping things tidy; and if we get into a very hard fight, and come out of the mêlée somewhat the worse for wear, it will be a blessing to have ’em along to mend our togas, sew buttons on our uniforms, and darn our hosiery.”
Morgan laughed sarcastically. “When did you flourish, if ever, colonel?” he asked.
“Do you refer to me?” queried Abeuchapeta, with a frown.
“You have guessed correctly,” replied Morgan, icily. “I have quite forgotten your date; were you a success in the year one, or when?”
“Admiral Abeuchapeta, Sir Henry,” interposed Kidd, fearing a further outbreak of hostilities—“Admiral Abeuchapeta was the terror of the seas in the seventh century, and what he undertook to do he did, and his piratical enterprises were carried on on a scale of magnificence which is without parallel off the comic-opera stage. He never went forth without at least seventy galleys and a hundred other vessels.”
Abeuchapeta drew himself up proudly. “Six-ninety-eight was my great year,” he said.
“That’s what I thought,” said Morgan. “That is to say, you got your ideas of women twelve hundred years ago, and the ladies have changed somewhat since that time. I have great respect for you, sir, as a ruffian. I have no doubt that as a ruffian you are a complete success, but when it comes to ‘feminology’ you are sailing in unknown waters. The study of women, my dear Abeuchadnezzar—”
“Peta,” retorted Abeuchapeta, irritably.
“I stand corrected. The study of women, my dear Peter,” said Morgan, with a wink at Conrad, which fortunately the seventh-century pirate did not see, else there would have been an open break—“the study of women is more difficult than that of astronomy; there may be two stars alike, but all women are unique. Because she was this, that, or the other thing in your day does not prove that she is any one of those things in our day—in fact, it proves the contrary. Why, I venture even to say that no individual woman is alike.”
“That’s rather a hazy thought,” said Kidd, scratching his head in a puzzled sort of way.
“I mean that she’s different from herself at different times,” said Morgan. “What is it the poet called her?—‘an infinite variety show,’ or something of that sort; a perpetual vaudeville—a continuous performance, as it were, from twelve to twelve.”
“Morgan is right, admiral!” put in Conrad the corsair, acting temporarily as bo’sun. “The times are sadly changed, and woman is no longer what she was. She is hardly what she is, much less what she was. The Roman Gynæceum would be an impossibility to-day. You might as well expect Delilah to open a barber-shop on board this boat as ask any of these advanced females below-stairs to sew buttons on a pirate’s uniform after a fray, or to keep the fringe on his epaulets curled. They’re no longer sewing-machines—they are Keeley motors for mystery and perpetual motion. Women have views now they are no longer content to be looked at merely; they must see for themselves; and the more they see, the more they wish to domesticate man and emancipate woman. It’s my private opinion that if we are to get along with them at all the best thing to do is to let ’em alone. I have always found I was better off in the abstract, and if this question is going to be settled in a purely democratic fashion by submitting it to a vote, I’ll vote for any measure which involves leaving them strictly to themselves. They’re nothing but a lot of ghosts anyhow, like ourselves, and we can pretend we don’t see them.”
“If that could be, it would be excellent,” said Morgan; “but it is impossible. For a pirate of the Byronic order, my dear Conrad, you are strangely unversed in the ways of the sex which cheers but not inebriates. We can no more ignore their presence upon this boat than we can expect whales to spout kerosene. In the first place, it would be excessively impolite of us to cut them—to decline to speak to them if they should address us. We may be pirates, ruffians, cutthroats, but I hope we shall never forget that we are gentlemen.”
“The whole situation is rather contrary to etiquette, don’t you think?” suggested Conrad. “There’s nobody to introduce us, and I can’t really see how we can do otherwise than ignore them. I certainly am not going to stand on deck and make eyes at them, to try and pick up an acquaintance with them, even if I am of a Byronic strain.”
“You forget,” said Kidd, “two essential features of the situation. These women are at present—or shortly will be, when they realize their situation—in distress, and a true gentleman may always fly to the rescue of a distressed female; and, the second point, we shall soon be on the seas, and I understand that on the fashionable transatlantic lines it is now consideredde rigueurto speak to anybody you choose to. The introduction business isn’t going to stand in my way.”
“Well, may I ask,” put in Abeuchapeta, “just what it is that is worrying you? You said something about feeding them, and dressing them, and keeping them in bonnets. I fancy there’s fish enough in the sea to feed ’em; and as for their gowns and hats, they can make ’em themselves. Every woman is a milliner at heart.”
“Exactly, and we’ll have to pay the milliners. That is what bothers me. I was going to lead this expedition to London, Paris, and New York, admiral. That is where the money is, and to get it you’ve got to go ashore, to headquarters. You cannot nowadays find it on the high seas. Modern civilization,” said Kidd, “has ruined the pirate’s business. The latest news from the other world has really opened my eyes to certain facts that I never dreamed of. The conditions of the day of which I speak are interestingly shown in the experience of our friend Hawkins here. Captain Hawkins, would you have any objection to stating to these gentlemen the condition of affairs which led you to give up piracy on the high seas?”
“Not the slightest, Captain Kidd,” returned Captain Hawkins, who was a recent arrival in Hades. “It is a sad little story, and it gives me a pain for to think on it, but none the less I’ll tell it, since you ask me. When I were a mere boy, fellow-pirates, I had but one ambition, due to my readin’, which was confined to stories of a Sunday-school nater—to become somethin’ different from the little Willies an’ the clever Tommies what I read about therein. They was all good, an’ they went to their reward too soon in life for me, who even in them days regarded death as a stuffy an’ unpleasant diversion. Learnin’ at an early period that virtue was its only reward, an’ a-wish-in’ others, I says to myself: ‘Jim,’ says I, ‘if you wishes to become a magnet in this village, be sinful. If so be as you are a good boy, an’ kind to your sister an’ all other animals, you’ll end up as a prosperous father with fifteen hundred a year sure, with never no hope for no public preferment beyond bein’ made the super-intendent of the Sunday-school; but if so be as how you’re bad, you may become famous, an’ go to Congress, an’ have your picture in the Sunday noospapers.’ So I looks around for books tellin’ how to get ‘Famous in Fifty Ways,’ an’ after due reflection I settles in my mind that to be a pirate’s just the thing for me, seein’ as how it’s both profitable an’ healthy. Pass-in’ over details, let me tell you that I became a pirate. I ran away to sea, an’ by dint of perseverance, as the Sunday-school book useter say, in my badness I soon became the centre of a evil lot; an’ when I says to ’em, ‘Boys, I wants to be a pirate chief,’ they hollers back, loud like, ‘Jim, we’re with you,’ an’ they was. For years I was the terror of the Venezuelan Gulf, the Spanish Main, an’ the Pacific seas, but there was precious little money into it. The best pay I got was from a Sunday noospaper which paid me well to sign an article on ‘Modern Piracy’ which I didn’t write. Finally business got so bad the crew began to murmur, an’ I was at my wits’ ends to please ’em; when one mornin’, havin’ passed a restless night, I picks up a noospaper and sees in it that ‘Next Saturday’s steamer is a weritable treasure-ship, takin’ out twelve million dollars, and the jewels of a certain prima donna valued at five hundred thousand.’ ‘Here’s my chance,’ says I, an’ I goes to sea and lies in wait for the steamer. I captures her easy, my crew bein’ hungry, an’ fightin according like. We steals the box a-hold-in’ the jewels an’ the bag containin’ the millions, hustles back to our own ship, an’ makes for our rondyvoo, me with two bullets in my leg, four o’ my crew killed, and one engin’ of my ship disabled by a shot—but happy. Twelve an’ a half millions at one break is enough to make anybody happy.”
“I should say so,” said Abeuchapeta, with an ecstatic shake of his head. “I didn’t get that in all my career.”
“Nor I,” sighed Kidd. “But go on, Hawkins.”
“Well, as I says,” continued Captain Hawkins, “we goes to the rondyvoo to look over our booty. ‘Captain ’Awkins,’ says my valet—for I was a swell pirate, gents, an’ never travelled nowhere without a man to keep my clothes brushed and the proper wrinkles in my trousers—‘this ’ere twelve millions,’ says he, ‘is werry light,’ says he, carryin’ the bag ashore. ‘I don’t care how light it is, so long as it’s twelve millions, Henderson,’ says I; but my heart sinks inside o’ me at his words, an’ the minute we lands I sits down to investigate right there on the beach. I opens the bag, an’ it’s the one I was after—but the twelve millions!”
“Weren’t there?” cried Conrad.
“Yes, they was there,” sighed Hawkins, “but every bloomin’ million was represented by a certified check, an’ payable in London!”
Every bloomin’ million was represented by a certified check, an’ payable in London
“By Jingo!” cried Morgan. “What fearful luck! But you had the prima donna’s jewels.”
“Yes,” said Hawkins, with a moan. “But they was like all other prima donna’s jewels—for advertisin’ purposes only, an’ made o’ gum-arabic!”
“Horrible!” said Abeuchapeta. “And the crew, what did they say?”
“They was a crew of a few words,” sighed Hawkins. “Werry few words, an’ not a civil word in the lot—mostly adjectives of a profane kind. When I told ’em what had happened, they got mad at Fortune for a-jiltin’ of ’em, an’—well, I came here. I was ’sas’inated that werry night!”
“They killed you?” cried Morgan.
“A dozen times,” nodded Hawkins. “They always was a lavish lot. I met death in all its most horrid forms. First they stabbed me, then they shot me, then they clubbed me, and so on, endin’ up with a lynchin’—but I didn’t mind much after the first, which hurt a bit. But now that I’m here I’m glad it happened. This life is sort of less responsible than that other. You can’t hurt a ghost by shooting him, because there ain’t nothing to hurt, an’ I must say I like bein’ a mere vision what everybody can see through.”
“All of which interesting tale proves what?” queried Abeuchapeta.
“That piracy on the sea is not profitable in these days of the check banking system,” said Kidd. “If you can get a chance at real gold it’s all right, but it’s of no earthly use to steal checks that people can stop payment on. Therefore it was my plan to visit the cities and do a little freebooting there, where solid material wealth is to be found.”
“Well? Can’t we do it now?” asked Abeuchapeta.
“Not with these women tagging after us,” returned Kidd. “If we went to London and lifted the whole Bank of England, these women would have it spent on Regent Street inside of twenty-four hours.”
“Then leave them on board,” said Abeuchapeta.
“And have them steal the ship!” retorted Kidd. “No. There are but two things to do. Take ’em back, or land them in Paris. Tell them to spend a week on shore while we are provisioning. Tell ’em to shop to their hearts’ content, and while they are doing it we can sneak off and leave them stranded.”
“Splendid!” cried Morgan.
“But will they consent?” asked Abeuchapeta.
“Consent! To shop? In Paris? For a week?” cried Morgan.
“Ha, ha!” laughed Hawkins. “Will they consent! Will a duck swim?”
And so it was decided, which was the first incident in the career of the House-boat upon which the astute Mr. Sherlock Holmes had failed to count.
When, with a resounding slam, the door to the upper deck of the House-boat was shut in the faces of queens Elizabeth and Cleopatra by the unmannerly Kidd, these ladies turned and gazed at those who thronged the stairs behind them in blank amazement, and the heart of Xanthippe, had one chosen to gaze through that diaphanous person’s ribs, could have been seen to beat angrily.
Queen Elizabeth was so excited at this wholly novel attitude towards her regal self that, having turned, she sat down plump upon the floor in the most unroyal fashion.
“Well!” she ejaculated. “If this does not surpass everything! The idea of it! Oh for one hour of my olden power, one hour of the axe, one hour of the block!”
Queen Elizabeth desires an axe and one hour of her olden power
“Get up,” retorted Cleopatra, “and let us all return to the billiard-room and discuss this matter calmly. It is quite evident that something has happened of which we wotted little when we came aboard this craft.”
“That is a good idea,” said Calpurnia, retreating below. “I can see through the window that we are in motion. The vessel has left her moorings, and is making considerable headway down the stream, and the distinctly masculine voices we have heard are indications to my mind that the ship is manned, and that this is the result of design rather than of accident. Let us below.”
Elizabeth rose up and readjusted her ruff, which in the excitement of the moment had been forced to assume a position about her forehead which gave one the impression that its royal wearer had suddenly donned a sombrero.
“Very well,” she said. “Let us below; but oh, for the axe!”
“Bring the lady an axe,” cried Xanthippe, sarcastically. “She wants to cut somebody.”
The sally was not greeted with applause. The situation was regarded as being too serious to admit of humor, and in silence they filed back into the billiard-room, and, arranging themselves in groups, stood about anxiously discussing the situation.
“It’s getting rougher every minute,” sobbed Ophelia. “Look at those pool-balls!” These were in very truth chasing each other about the table in an extraordinary fashion. “And I wish I’d never followed you horrid new creatures on board!” the poor girl added, in an agony of despair.
“I believe we’ve crossed the bar already!” said Cleopatra, gazing out of the window at a nasty choppy sea that was adding somewhat to the disquietude of the fair gathering. “If this is merely a joke on the part of the Associated Shades, it is a mighty poor one, and I think it is time it should cease.”
“Oh, for an axe!” moaned Elizabeth, again.
“Excuse me, your Majesty,” put in Xanthippe. “You said that before, and I must say it is getting tiresome. You couldn’t do anything with an axe. Suppose you had one. What earthly good would it do you, who were accustomed to doing all your killing by proxy? I don’t believe, if you had the unmannerly person who slammed the door in your face lying prostrate upon the billiard-table here, you could hit him a square blow in the neck if you had a hundred axes. Delilah might as well cry for her scissors, for all the good it would do us in our predicament. If Cleopatra had her asp with her it might be more to the purpose. One deadly little snake like that let loose on the upper deck would doubtless drive these boors into the sea, and even then our condition would not be bettered, for there isn’t any of us that can sail a boat. There isn’t an old salt among us.”
“Too bad Mrs. Lot isn’t along,” giggled Marguerite de Valois, whose Gallic spirits were by no means overshadowed by the unhappy predicament in which she found herself.
“I’m here,” piped up Mrs. Lot. “But I’m not that kind of a salt.”
“I am present,” said Mrs. Noah. “Though why I ever came I don’t know, for I vowed the minute I set my foot on Ararat that dry land was good enough for me, and that I’d never step aboard another boat as long as I lived. If, however, now that I am here, I can give you the benefit of my nautical experience, you are all perfectly welcome to it.”
“I’m sure we’re very much obliged for the offer,” said Portia, “but in the emergency which has arisen we cannot say how much obliged we are until we know what your experience amounted to. Before relying upon you we ought to know how far that reliance can go—not that I lack confidence in you, my dear madam, but that in an hour of peril one must take care, to rely upon the oak, not upon the reed.”
“The point is properly taken,” said Elizabeth, “and I wish to say here that I am easier in my mind when I realize that we have with us so level-headed a person as the lady who has just spoken. She has spoken truly and to the point. If I were to become queen again, I should make her my attorney-general. We must not go ahead impulsively, but look at all things in a calm, judicial manner.”
“Which is pretty hard work with a sea like this on,” remarked Ophelia, faintly, for she was getting a trifle sallow, as indeed she might, for the House-boat was beginning to roll tremendously with no alleviation save an occasional pitch, which was an alleviation only in the sense that it gave variety to their discomfort. “I don’t believe a chief-justice could look at things calmly and in a judicial manner if he felt as I do.”
“Poor dear!” said the matronly Mrs. Noah, sympathetically. “I know exactly how you feel. I have been there myself. The fourth day out I and my whole family were in the same condition, except that Noah, my husband, was so very far gone that I could not afford to yield. I nursed him for six days before he got his sea-legs on, and then succumbed myself.”
“But,” gasped Ophelia, “that doesn’t help me—
“It did my husband,” said Mrs. Noah.
“When he heard that the boys were seasick too, he actually laughed and began to get better right away. There is really only one cure for themal de mer, and that is the fun of knowing that somebody else is suffering too. If some of you ladies would kindly yield to the seductions of the sea, I think we could get this poor girl on her feet in an instant.”
Unfortunately for poor Ophelia, there was no immediate response to this appeal, and the unhappy young woman was forced to suffer in solitude.
“We have no time for untimely diversions of this sort,” snapped Xanthippe, with a scornful glance at the suffering Ophelia, who, having retired to a comfortable lounge at an end of the room, was evidently improving. “I have no sympathy with this habit some of my sex seem to have acquired of succumbing to an immediate sensation of this nature.”
“I hope to be pardoned for interrupting,” said Mrs. Noah, with a great deal of firmness, “but I wish Mrs. Socrates to understand that it is rather early in the voyage for her to lay down any such broad principle as that, and for her own sake to-morrow, I think it would be well if she withdrew the sentiment. There are certain things about a sea-voyage that are more or less beyond the control of man or woman, and any one who chides that poor suffering child on yonder sofa ought to be more confident than Mrs. Socrates can possibly be that within an hour she will not be as badly off. People who live in glass houses should not throw dice.”
“I shall never yield to anything so undignified as seasickness, let me tell you that,” retorted Xanthippe. “Furthermore, the proverb is not as the lady has quoted it. ‘People who live in glass houses should not throw stones’ is the proper version.”
“I was not quoting,” returned Mrs. Noah, calmly. “When I said that people who live in glass houses should not throw dice, I meant precisely what I said. People who live in glass houses should not take chances. In assuming with such vainglorious positiveness that she will not be seasick, the lady who has just spoken is giving tremendous odds, as the boys used to say on the Ark when we gathered about the table at night and began to make small wagers on the day’s run.”
“I think we had better suspend this discussion,” suggested Cleopatra. “It is of no immediate interest to any one but Ophelia, and I fancy she does not care to dwell upon it at any great length. It is more important that we should decide upon our future course of action. In the first place, the question is who these people up on deck are. If they are the members of the club, we are all right. They will give us our scare, and land us safely again at the pier. In that event it is our womanly duty to manifest no concern, and to seem to be aware of nothing unusual in the proceeding. It would never do to let them think that their joke has been a good one. If, on the other hand, as I fear, we are the victims of some horde of ruffians, who have pounced upon us unawares, and are going into the business of abduction on a wholesale basis, we must meet treachery with treachery, strategy with strategy. I, for one, am perfectly willing to make every man on board walk the plank; having confidence in the seawomanship of Mrs. Noah and her ability to steer us into port.”
“I am quite in accord with these views,” put in Madame Récamier, “and I move you, Mrs. President, that we organize a series of sub-committees—one on treachery, with Lucretia Borgia and Delilah as members; one on strategy, consisting of Portia and Queen Elizabeth; one on navigation, headed by Mrs. Noah; with a final sub-committee on reconnoitre, with Cassandra to look forward, and Mrs. Lot to look aft—all of these subordinated to a central committee of safety headed by Cleopatra and Calpurnia. The rest of us can then commit ourselves and our interests unreservedly to these ladies, and proceed to enjoy ourselves without thought of the morrow.”
“I second the motion,” said Ophelia, “with the amendment that Madame Récamier be appointed chair-lady of another sub-committee, on entertainment.”
The amendment was accepted, and the motion put. It was carried with an enthusiastic aye, and the organization was complete.
The various committees retired to the several corners of the room to discuss their individual lines of action, when a shadow was observed to obscure the moonlight which had been streaming in through the window. The faces of Calpurnia and Cleopatra blanched for an instant, as, immediately following upon this apparition, a large bundle was hurled through the open port into the middle of the room, and the shadow vanished.
“Is it a bomb?” cried several of the ladies at once.
“Nonsense!” said Madame Récamier, jumping lightly forward. “A man doesn’t mind blowing a woman up, but he’ll never blow himself up. We’re safe enough in that respect. The thing looks to me like a bundle of illustrated papers.”
“That’s what it is,” said Cleopatra who had been investigating. “It’s rather a discourteous bit of courtesy, tossing them in through the window that way, I think, but I presume they mean well. Dear me,” she added, as, having untied the bundle, she held one of the open papers up before her, “how interesting! All the latest Paris fashions. Humph! Look at those sleeves, Elizabeth. What an impregnable fortress you would have been with those sleeves added to your ruffs!”
“I should think they’d be very becoming,” put in Cassandra, standing on her tip-toes and looking over Cleopatra’s shoulder. “That Watteau isn’t bad, either, is it, now?”
“No,” remarked Calpurnia. “I wonder how a Watteau back like that would go on my blue alpaca?”
“Very nicely,” said Elizabeth. “How many gores has it?”
“Five,” observed Calpurnia. “One more than Cæsar’s toga. We had to have our costumes distinct in some way.”
“A remarkable hat, that,” nodded Mrs. Lot, her eye catching sight of a Virot creation at the top of the page.
“Reminds me of Eve’s description of an autumn scene in the garden,” smiled Mrs. Noah. “Gorgeous in its foliage, beautiful thing; though I shouldn’t have dared wear one in the Ark, with all those hungry animals browsing about the upper and lower decks.”
“I wonder,” remarked Cleopatra, as she cocked her head to one side to take in the full effect of an attractive summer gown—“I wonder how that waist would make up in blue crépon, with a yoke of lace and a stylishly contrasting stock of satin ribbon?”
“It would depend upon how you finished the sleeves,” remarked Madame Récamier. “If you had a few puffs of rich brocaded satin set in with deeply folded pleats it wouldn’t be bad.”
“I think it would be very effective,” observed Mrs. Noah, “but a trifle too light for general wear. I should want some kind of a wrap with it.”
“It does need that,” assented Elizabeth. “A wrap made of passementerie and jet, with a mousseline de soie ruche about the neck held by achou, would make it fascinating.”
“The committee on treachery is ready to report,” said Delilah, rising from her corner, where she and Lucretia Borgia had been having so animated a discussion that they had failed to observe the others crowding about Cleopatra and the papers.
The committee on treachery is ready to report
“A little sombre,” said Cleopatra. “The corsage is effective, but I don’t like those basque terminations. I’ve never approved of those full godets—”
“The committee on treachery,” remarked Delilah again, raising her voice, “has a suggestion to make.”
“I can’t get over those sleeves, though,” laughed Helen of Troy. “What is the use of them?”
“They might be used to get Greeks into Troy,” suggested Madame Récamier.
“The committee on treachery,” roared Delilah, thoroughly angered by the absorption of the chairman and others, “has a suggestion to make. This is the third and last call.”
“Oh, I beg pardon,” cried Cleopatra, rapping for order. “I had forgotten all about our committees. Excuse me, Delilah. I—ah—was absorbed in other matters. Will you kindly lay your pattern—I should say your plan—before us?”
“It is briefly this,” said Delilah. “It has been suggested that we invite the crew of this vessel to a chafing-dish party, under the supervision of Lucretia Borgia, and that she—”
The balance of the plan was not outlined, for at this point the speaker was interrupted by a loud knocking at the door, its instant opening, and the appearance in the doorway of that ill-visaged ruffian Captain Kidd.
“Ladies,” he began, “I have come here to explain to you the situation in which you find yourselves. Have I your permission to speak?”
The ladies started back, but the chairman was equal to the occasion.
“Go on,” said Cleopatra, with queenly dignity, turning to the interloper; and the pirate proceeded to take the second step in the nefarious plan upon which he and his brother ruffians had agreed, of which the tossing in through the window of the bundle of fashion papers was the first.
Itwas about twenty-four hours after the events narrated in the preceding chapters that Mr. Sherlock Holmes assumed command of theGehenna, which was nothing more nor less than the shadow of the ill-starred ocean steamshipCity of Chicago, which tried some years ago to reach Liverpool by taking the overland route through Ireland, fortunately without detriment to her passengers and crew, who had the pleasure of the experience of shipwreck without any of the discomforts of drowning. As will be remembered, the obstructionist nature of the Irish soil prevented theCity of Chicagofrom proceeding farther inland than was necessary to keep her well balanced amidships upon a convenient and not too stony bed; and that after a brief sojourn on the rocks she was finally disposed of to the Styx Navigation Company, under which title Charon had had himself incorporated, is a matter of nautical history. The change of name to theGehennawas the act of Charon himself, and was prompted, no doubt, by a desire to soften the jealous prejudices of the residents of the Stygian capital against the flourishing and ever-growing metropolis of Illinois.
The Associated Shades had had some trouble in getting this craft. Charon, through his constant association with life on both sides of the dark river, had gained a knowledge, more or less intimate, of modern business methods, and while as janitor of the club he was subject to the will of the House-boat Committee, and sympathized deeply with the members of the association in their trouble, as president of the Styx Navigation Company he was bound up in certain newly attained commercial ideas which were embarrassing to those members of the association to whose hands the chartering of a vessel had been committed.
“See here, Charon,” Sir Walter Raleigh had said, after Charon had expressed himself as deeply sympathetic, but unable to shave the terms upon which the vessel could be had, “you are an infernal old hypocrite. You go about wringing your hands over our misfortunes until they’ve got as dry and flabby as a pair of kid gloves, and yet when we ask you for a ship of suitable size and speed to go out after those pirates, you become a sort of twin brother to Shylock, without his excuse. His instincts are accidents of birth. Yours are cultivated, and you know it.”
“You are very much mistaken, Sir Walter,” Charon had answered to this. “You don’t understand my position. It is a very hard one. As janitor of your club I am really prostrated over the events of the past twenty-four hours. My occupation is gone, and my despair over your loss is correspondingly greater, for I have time on my hands to brood over it. I was hysterical as a woman yesterday afternoon—so hysterical that I came near upsetting one of the Furies who engaged me to row her down to Madame Medusa’s villa last evening; and right at the sluice of the vitriol reservoir at that.”
You are very much mistaken, Sir Walter
“Then why the deuce don’t you do something to help us?” pleaded Hamlet.
“How can I do any more than I have done? I’ve offered you theGehenna,” retorted Charon.
“But on what terms?” expostulated Raleigh. “If we had all the wealth of the Indies we’d have difficulty in paying you the sums you demand.”
“But I am only president of the company,” explained Charon. “I’d like, as president, to show you some courtesy, and I’m perfectly willing to do so; but when it comes down to giving you a vessel like that, I’m bound by my official oath to consider the interest of the stockholders. It isn’t as it used to be when I had boats to hire in my own behalf alone. In those days I had nobody’s interest but my own to look after. Now the ships all belong to the Styx Navigation Company. Can’t you see the difference?”
“You own all the stock, don’t you?” insisted Raleigh.
“I don’t know,” Charon answered, blandly. “I haven’t seen the transfer-books lately.”
“But you know that you did own every share of it, and that you haven’t sold any, don’t you?” put in Hamlet.
Charon was puzzled for a moment, but shortly his face cleared, and Sir Walter’s heart sank, for it was evident that the old fellow could not be cornered.
“Well, it’s this way, Sir Walter, and your Highness,” he said, “I—I can’t say whether any of that stock has been transferred or not. The fact is, I’ve been speculating a little on margin, and I’ve put up that stock as security, and, for all I know, I may have been sold out by my brokers. I’ve been so upset by this unfortunate occurrence that I haven’t seen the market reports for two days. Really you’ll have to be content with my offer or go without theGehenna. There’s too much suspicion attached to high corporate officials lately for me to yield a jot in the position I have taken. It would never do to get you all ready to start, and then have an injunction clapped on you by some unforeseen stockholder who was not satisfied with the terms offered you; nor can I ever let it be said of me that to retain my position as janitor of your organization I sacrificed a trust committed to my charge. I’ll gladly lend you my private launch, though I don’t think it will aid you much, because the naphtha-tank has exploded, and the screw slipped off and went to the bottom two weeks ago. Still, it is at your service, and I’ve no doubt that either Phidias or Benvenuto Cellini will carve out a paddle for you if you ask him to.”
“Bah!” retorted Raleigh. “You might as well offer us a pair of skates.”
“I would, if I thought the river’d freeze,” retorted Charon, blandly.
Raleigh and Hamlet turned away impatiently and left Charon to his own devices, which for the time being consisted largely of winking his other eye quietly and outwardly making a great show of grief.
“He’s too canny for us, I am afraid,” said Sir Walter. “We’ll have to pay him his money.”
“Let us first consult Sherlock Holmes,” suggested Hamlet, and this they proceeded at once to do.
“There is but one thing to be done,” observed the astute detective after he had heard Sir Walter’s statement of the case. “It is an old saying that one should fight fire with fire. We must meet modern business methods with modern commercial ideas. Charter his vessel at his own price.”
“But we’d never be able to pay,” said Hamlet.
“Ha-ha!” laughed Holmes. “It is evident that you know nothing of the laws of trade nowadays. Don’t pay!”
“But how can we?” asked Raleigh.
“The method is simple. You haven’t anything to pay with,” returned Holmes. “Let him sue. Suppose he gets a verdict. You haven’t anything he can attach—if you have, make it over to your wives or your fiancées.”
“Is that honest?” asked Hamlet, shaking his head doubtfully.
“It’s business,” said Holmes.
“But suppose he wants an advance payment?” queried Hamlet.
“Give him a check drawn to his own order. He’ll have to endorse it when he deposits it, and that will make him responsible,” laughed Holmes.
“What a simple thing when you understand it!” commented Raleigh.
“Very,” said Holmes. “Business is getting by slow degrees to be an exact science. It reminds me of the Brighton mystery, in which I played a modest part some ten years ago, when I first took up ferreting as a profession. I was sitting one night in my room at one of the Brighton hotels, which shall be nameless. I never give the name of any of the hotels at which I stop, because it might give offence to the proprietors of other hotels, with the result that my books would be excluded from sale therein. Suffice it to say that I was spending an early summer Sunday at Brighton with my friend Watson. We had dined well, and were enjoying our evening smoke together upon a small balcony overlooking the water, when there came a timid knock on the door of my room.
“‘Watson,’ said I, ‘here comes some one for advice. Do you wish to wager a small bottle upon it?’
“‘Yes,’ he answered, with a smile. ‘I am thirsty and I’d like a small bottle; and while I do not expect to win, I’ll take the bet. I should like to know, though, how you know.’
“‘It is quite simple,’ said I. ‘The timidity of the knock shows that my visitor is one of two classes of persons—an autograph-hunter or a client, one of the two. You see I give you a chance to win. It may be an autograph-hunter, but I think it is a client. If it were a creditor, he would knock boldly, even ostentatiously; if it were the maid, she would not knock at all; if it were the hall-boy, he would not come until I had rung five times for him. None of these things has occurred; the knock is the half-hearted knock which betokens either that the person who knocked is in trouble, or is uncertain as to his reception. I am willing, however, considering the heat and my desire to quench my thirst, to wager that it is a client.’
“‘Done,’ said Watson; and I immediately remarked, ‘Come in.’
“The door opened, and a man of about thirty-five years of age, in a bathing-suit, entered the room, and I saw at a glance what had happened.
“‘Your name is Burgess,’ I said. ‘You came here from London this morning, expecting to return to-night. You brought no luggage with you. After luncheon you went bathing. You had machine No. 35, and when you came out of the water you found that No. 35 had disappeared, with your clothes and the silver watch your uncle gave you on the day you succeeded to his business.’
“Of course, gentlemen,” observed the detective, with a smile at Sir Walter and Hamlet—“of course the man fairly gasped, and I continued: ‘You have been lying face downward in the sand ever since, waiting for nightfall, so that you could come to me for assistance, not considering it good form to make an afternoon call upon a stranger at his hotel, clad in a bathing-suit. Am I correct?’
“‘Sir,’ he replied, with a look of wonder, ‘you have narrated my story exactly as it happened, and I find I have made no mistake in coming to you. Would you mind telling me what is your course of reasoning?’
“‘It is plain as day,’ said I. ‘I am the person with the red beard with whom you came down third class from London this morning, and you told me your name was Burgess and that you were a butcher. When you looked to see the time, I remarked upon the oddness of your watch, which led to your telling me that it was the gift of your uncle.’
“‘True,’ said Burgess, ‘but I did not tell you I had no luggage.’
“‘No,’ said I, ‘but that you hadn’t is plain; for if you had brought any other clothing besides that you had on with you, you would have put it on to come here. That you have been robbed I deduce also from your costume.’
“‘But the number of the machine?’ asked Watson.
“‘Is on the tag on the key hanging about his neck,’ said I.
“‘One more question,’ queried Burgess. ‘How do you know I have been lying face downward on the beach ever since?’
“‘By the sand in your eyebrows,’ I replied; and Watson ordered up the small bottle.”
“I fail to see what it was in our conversation, however,” observed Hamlet, somewhat impatient over the delay caused by the narration of this tale, “that suggested this train of thought to you.”
“The sequel will show,” returned Holmes.
“Oh, Lord!” put in Raleigh. “Can’t we put off the sequel until a later issue? Remember, Mr. Holmes, that we are constantly losing time.”
“The sequel is brief, and I can narrate it on our way to the office of the Navigation Company,” observed the detective. “When the bottle came I invited Mr. Burgess to join us, which he did, and as the hour was late when we came to separate, I offered him the use of my parlor overnight. This he accepted, and we retired.
“The next morning when I arose to dress, the mystery was cleared.”
“You had dreamed its solution?” asked Raleigh.
“No,” replied Holmes. “Burgess had disappeared with all my clothing, my false-beard, my suit-case, and my watch. The only thing he had left me was the bathing-suit and a few empty small bottles.”
“And why, may I ask,” put in Hamlet, as they drew near to Charon’s office—“why does that case remind you of business as it is conducted to-day?”
“In this, that it is a good thing to stay out of unless you know it all,” explained Holmes. “I omitted in the case of Burgess to observe one thing about him. Had I observed that his nose was rectilinear, incurved, and with a lifted base, and that his auricular temporal angle was between 96 and 97 degrees, I should have known at once that he was an impostorVideOttolenghui on ‘Ears and Noses I Have Met,’ pp. 631–640.”
“Do you mean to say that you can tell a criminal by his ears?” demanded Hamlet.
“If he has any—yes; but I did not know that at the time of the Brighton mystery. Therefore I should have stayed out of the case. But here we are. Good-morning, Charon.”
By this time the trio had entered the private office of the president of the Styx Navigation Company, and in a few moments the vessel was chartered at a fabulous price.
On the return to the wharf, Sir Walter somewhat nervously asked Holmes if he thought the plan they had settled upon would work.
“Charon is a very shrewd old fellow,” said he. “He may outwit us yet.”
“The chances are just two and one-eighth degrees in your favor,” observed Holmes, quietly, with a glance at Raleigh’s ears. “The temporal angle of your ears is 93.125 degrees, whereas Charon’s stand out at 91, by my otometer. To that extent your criminal instincts are superior to his. If criminology is an exact science, reasoning by your respective ears, you ought to beat him out by a perceptible though possibly narrow margin.”
With which assurance Raleigh went ahead with his preparations, and within twelve hours theGehennawas under way, carrying a full complement of crew and officers, with every state-room on board occupied by some spirit of the more illustrious kind.
Even Shylock was on board, though no one knew it, for in the dead of night he had stolen quietly up the gang-plank and had hidden himself in an empty water-cask in the forecastle.
“’Tisn’t Venice,” he said, as he sat down and breathed heavily through the bung of the barrel, “but it’s musty and damp enough, and, considering the cost, I can’t complain. You can’t get something for nothing, even in Hades.”
In the dead of night he had stolen quietly up the gang-plank