UNDER RESTRAINT
Austerly, who was essentially English and a servant of the Crown,
somewhat naturally lived outside the boundaries of Vancouver. He had the
tastes and prejudices of his class, and did not like the life most men
lead in the Western cities, which is in some respects communistic and
without privacy. Even those of some standing, with a house of their own,
not infrequently use it only to sleep in, and take their meals at a
hotel, while, should they retire to their own dwelling in the evening,
they are scarcely likely to enjoy the quietness the insular Englishman
as a rule delights in. People walk in and out casually until late at
night, and a certain proportion of them are chronically thirsty. This,
in case of a business man, has its advantages as well as its drawbacks,
but Austerly only recognized the latter. He said it was like living in
the street, and he did not appreciate being called on at eleven o'clock
at night by men of doubtful character whom he had met for the first time
a few days before.
He accordingly retired to a retreat that one of his predecessors had
built outside the city, which shades off on that side from stone and
steel through gradations of frame-houses and rickety shanties into a
wilderness of blackened fir-stumps. The Western cities lie open, and
though the life in them is more suggestive of that of Paris than the
staidness of an English town, they have neither gate nor barrier, and
are usually ready to welcome all who care to enter: strong-armed men who
limp in, red with dust, in dilapidated shoes, as well as purchasers of
land and commercial enterprise directors. They have, it frequently
happens, need of the one, and a bonus instead of taxes to offer the
other, who may purpose to set up mills and workshops within their
borders.
Austerly, however, was not altogether a recluse, and it came about one
evening that Jimmy, who had arrived there with a few other guests, sat
beside Anthea Merril in the garden of his house. The sunlight still
shone upon the struggling grass, to which neither money nor labor could
impart much resemblance to an English lawn, but great pines and cedars
walled it in, and one caught entrancing vistas of shining water and
coldly gleaming snow through the openings between their mighty trunks.
The evening was hot and still, the air heavy with the ambrosial odors of
the forest, and the dying roar of a great freight train that came
throbbing out of its dim recesses emphasized the silence. The little
house rose, gay with painted scroll-work and relieved by its trellises
and wooden pillars, beneath the dark cedar branches across the lawn.
Jimmy had seen Valentine and Miss Austerly sitting on the veranda a few
minutes earlier. He was, however, just then looking at his companion,
and wondering whether in spite of the pleasure it afforded him he had
been wise in coming there at all.
Anthea was dressed richly, in a fashion which it seemed to him became
her wonderfully well, and he was quite aware that the few minutes he had
now spent in her company would be sufficient to render him restless
during the remainder of the week. Jimmy had discovered that while it was
difficult to resolve that he would think no more of her, it was
considerably harder to carry out the prudent decision.
"It is some little time since I saw you last," she said.
"Four weeks," said Jimmy promptly. "That is, it would be if this were
to-morrow."
Anthea smiled, though she naturally noticed that there was a certain
significance in this accuracy. Jimmy realized it too, for he added a
trifle hastily: "The fact that it was just before the _Shasta_ went to
sea fixed it in my mind."
"Of course!" and Anthea laughed. "That would, no doubt, account for it.
Are your after-thoughts always as happy, Captain Wheelock?"
Jimmy felt a little uncomfortable. Her good-humor, in which there was
nothing incisive, was, he felt, in one way a sufficient rebuff, though
he could not tell whether she had meant it as such. It was also
disconcerting to discover that she had evidently followed the train of
reasoning which had led to the remark, though this was a thing she
seemed addicted to doing. After all, there are men who fail to
understand that in certain circumstances it is not insuperably difficult
for a woman to tell their thoughts before they express them.
"I'm afraid I don't excel at that kind of thing," he said. "It's perhaps
fortunate my friends realize it."
Anthea turned and looked at him with reposeful eyes. "Well," she said
reflectively, "I almost fancied you were not particularly pleased to see
me. You had, at least, very little to say at dinner."
Jimmy, to his annoyance, felt the blood rise to his forehead. He had
sense enough to see that his companion did not intend this to be what,
in similar circumstances, is sometimes called encouraging. He was not a
brilliant man; but it is, after all, very seldom that an extra-master's
certificate or a naval reserve commission is held by a fool. Anthea had,
he felt, merely asked him a question, and he could not tell her that he
would have avoided her only because he felt afraid that the delight he
found in her company might prove too much for his self-restraint.
"Still," he said, somewhat inanely, "how could I? You were talking to
that Englishman all the time."
"Burnell?" said Anthea. "Yes, I suppose I was. He and his wife are
rather old friends of mine. They have just come from Honolulu, and talk
about taking the yacht up to Alaska. In that case, they want Nellie and
me to go with them."
Jimmy remembered the beautiful white steam-yacht which had passed the
_Shasta_ on her way to Vancouver a day or two ago, and was sensible of a
vague relief that was at the same time not quite free from concern. If
Anthea went to Alaska, it was certain that he would have no opportunity
for meeting her for a considerable time. That was, in one way, what he
desired, but it by no means afforded him the satisfaction he felt it
should have done. She did not, however, appear inclined to dwell upon
the subject.
"I think I ought to congratulate you on what you did a few weeks ago,"
she said. "I read the schooner-man's narrative in the paper."
Jimmy laughed. "If I had known he was going to tell that tale, I almost
fancy I should have left him where he was; but, after all, I scarcely
think he did. Seas of the kind mentioned could exist only in a
newspaperman's imagination."
The girl smiled, for, though what she thought did not appear, she saw
the shade of darker color in his face, and Jimmy was very likeable in
his momentary confusion. Now and then his ingenuous nature revealed
itself in spite of his restraint, but nobody ever shrank from a glimpse
of it, for he had in him, as Anthea had seen, something of the largeness
and openness of the sea.
"Still," she said, "I heard one or two men who understand such things
talking about it, and they seemed to agree that it needed nerve and
courage to take the schooner skipper off without wrecking your vessel;
but you are, perhaps, right about the imagination of the men who serve
such papers."
Jimmy noticed the trace of half-contemptuous anger in her face and
voice, and fancied he understood it. He had, of course, seen the issue
of the paper in question, and had read close beneath the schooner-man's
account of his rescue a bitter and plainly worded attack upon his
companion's father. Merril was a political as well as a commercial
influence, and journalists in that country do not shrink from
personalities. He felt, by the way she glanced at him, that she knew he
had done so.
"Yes," she said, though he had not spoken, "you understand what I am
alluding to. Still, I suppose anybody who does all he can for the
Province must expect to be misrepresented."
Jimmy's face grew a trifle hard. He did not know exactly what she
expected from him, but even to please her he would not admit that the
man who had seized the _Tyee_ could be misrepresented in any way,
unless, indeed, somebody held him up as a pattern of virtue.
"I suppose your father denied the statements?" he said. "I have, of
course, been away."
"No," replied Anthea; "it was scarcely worth while. After all, very few
people would consider the thing seriously."
She turned to him again with an inquiring glance, and there was a
certain insistency in her tone. "Of course, that ought to be clear to
anybody."
Jimmy met her glance steadily, and set his lips as he usually did when
he was stirred, and he was stirred rather deeply then. Still, nothing
would have induced him to say a word in Merril's favor. Then it seemed
to him that the girl's expression changed. He could almost have fancied
there was a suggestion of appeal in her eyes, as though she would have
liked him to constitute himself her ally, and, indeed, had half-expected
it. It set his heart beating, and sent a little thrill through him, for
in that moment it was clear that she wished to believe altogether in her
father, and would value any support that he could offer her. In other
circumstances it would have been a delight to take up the cause of any
of her kin, whatever it might have cost him, but just then he was
conscious of a bitter hatred of the man in question, and Jimmy was in
all things honest.
"I'm afraid I don't know how people are likely to regard it," he said.
"You see, I am almost a stranger in the Province. I have been away so
long."
Anthea appeared to assent to this, but Jimmy realized that she felt that
he had failed her. Still, the thing was done, and he would not have done
it differently had another opportunity been afforded him.
"Well," she said slowly, "there is something I want to mention. I fancy
Mr. Burnell has a favor to ask of you this evening, and it might,
perhaps, be wise to oblige him. He can be a very good friend, as I have
reason to know, and though he may not mention this, he is, one
understands, rather a prominent figure in the Directorate of the ----
Mail Company."
For a few moments Jimmy was troubled by an unpleasant sense of
confusion. The man's name was famous in the shipping world, and there
were a good many aspiring steamboat officers who sought his good-will,
while, since he could not have heard of Jimmy until a day or two ago, it
was evident that somebody in Vancouver City had spoken in his favor.
Jimmy fancied he knew who this must be, and it was but a minute or two
since he had turned a deaf ear to the girl's appeal. Then he roused
himself, as he saw her curious smile.
"So that is the famous man?" he said. "I should never have imagined it."
Anthea laughed as she rose; but before she moved away, she turned to him
confidentially. "I really think," she said, "you should do what he asks
you."
Then she left him, and it was some minutes later when a little, quiet
Englishman strolled in that direction, cigar in hand. He sat down by
Jimmy.
"I don't know whether I'm presuming, but I believe you are duly
qualified to take command of a British steamer and are acquainted with
the northwest coast?" he said.
Jimmy said he had not been far north; and Burnell appeared to reflect
for a moment or two.
"After all," he said, "I don't suppose that matters so very much. I'm in
rather a difficulty, and you may be able to do something for me. We lost
our skipper, and my mate and several of the crew have taken leave of me
here unceremoniously. I wish to ask if you would take the yacht up to
Alaska for me, and afterward home again. I should naturally be prepared
to offer whatever salary is obtainable here by a duly qualified skipper,
and as several of my friends are also yours, you would, of course,
continue to meet them on that footing while you were on board."
"There is one point," said Jimmy. "The arrangement would necessarily be
a temporary one."
"I fancied you would raise it. Well, it would perhaps be a little
premature to say very much just now; but I did not come to Vancouver
entirely on pleasure. In fact, it is likely that we shall shortly
attempt to cut into the American South-Sea trade, in which case we
should want commanders for a 4000-ton boat or two from this city. If
not, I almost think I can promise that you would not suffer from serving
me. I may mention that your friends speak of you very favorably."
Jimmy thought hard for a minute or two. It was a very tempting offer,
and wages out of that port were excellent just then. What was more to
the purpose, it promised to send him back to the liners, where a
commander was a person of some consequence, and, besides this, Anthea
had told him that she was in all probability going to Alaska. Then he
reluctantly shook his head.
"I'm afraid I can't close with you, sir," he said. "The fact is, I
consider myself bound to the _Shasta_ Company."
"Ah!" said Burnell; "their terms are still more favorable? One would
scarcely have fancied it."
"No," said Jimmy, "that is certainly not the case. Still, they put me
into the little boat out of friendliness--and I'm not quite sure anybody
else could do as much for them, or, at least, would make an equal effort
in the somewhat curious circumstances. Of course, that sounds a trifle
egotistical; but still----"
Burnell signified comprehension. "It is not altogether a question of
money."
"I couldn't come if you offered me treble the usual thing," said Jimmy
gravely.
The other man nodded. "Well," he said, "I'm sorry, because after what
you have told me I almost think we should have hit it tolerably well
together. At any time you think I could be of service, you can write to
me."
He talked about other matters for a while, and it was half an hour after
he went away when Jimmy once more came face to face with Anthea Merril.
She was walking slowly through the creeping shadow of the pines, and
stopped when she saw him beside a barberry bush, among whose clustering
blossoms jeweled humming-birds flitted. One of them that gleamed
iridescent hovered on wings that moved invisibly close above her
shoulder.
"So," she said, "you have not done as I suggested?"
Jimmy looked at her gravely, and once more felt the blood creep into his
face. She had told him she was going to Alaska on board the yacht, and
he almost ventured to fancy she had meant it as an inducement; but there
was no trace of resentment in her voice. Anthea was too proud for that.
"I'm sorry," he said. "Still, you see, I couldn't."
There was no doubt that he was sorry, and a look that left him almost
bewildered crept into the girl's eyes.
"Why?" she asked quietly.
It was a somewhat unfortunate question, since it afforded an opening for
two different answers, and Jimmy, who fancied she wished to learn why
the fact that he could not go should grieve him, lost his head.
"Why?" he said. "Surely that can't be necessary. I think there is only
one thing that could have stopped my going. If it hadn't been for that,
I would have walked bare-foot across the Province to join the ship."
Anthea looked up, and met his eyes steadily. It was clear that she
understood him, but there was no reproof in her gaze, and for a moment
the man felt the sudden passion seize and almost shake the
self-restraint from him. The girl was very alluring, and just then her
pride had gone, while it was vaguely borne in on him that he had but to
ask, or rather take her masterfully. Perhaps he was right, for there are
moments when wealth and station do not seem to count, and an eager word
or two, or a sudden compelling seizure of the white hand that hung so
close beside him, might have been all that was needed. He looked at her
with gleaming eyes, while a little quiver ran through him. Still, he
remembered suddenly whose daughter she was, and the bitter grievance he
had against her father. The opposition Merril would certainly offer and
the stigma others might cast upon him if he wrested a promise from her
then, also counted for something; and though neither of them made any
sign, both knew when she spoke again that the moment had passed.
"That," she said, "was not what I meant. Why is it impossible for you to
go?"
Jimmy was himself again, for her voice and look had swiftly changed. "I
think it is only your due that I should tell you, since I know why
Burnell put the offer before me. Well, I was glad to get the _Shasta_,
and it would hardly be the thing to leave her now. Jordan and the others
put money they could very hardly spare into the venture--and when they
did it, they had confidence in me."
"Ah!" said Anthea, and stood silent for a moment or two. Then she smiled
at him gravely. "Perhaps you are right--and, at least, one could fancy
that Jordan and the others were warranted."
Jimmy, whose face once more grew a trifle flushed, raised a hand in
protest. "I feel I have to thank you for sending Burnell to me. It must
have seemed very ungrateful that I didn't close with him; but, after
all, that is only part of what I mean. You see----"
The girl looked at him, still with the curious little smile. "You
fancied I should feel hurt because you could not take a favor of that
kind from me? Well, perhaps I did, but, as you have said, you couldn't
help it--and I don't think it matters, after all."
Her voice was quietly even, and there was certainly no suggestion in it
that she resented what he had done; but Jimmy knew that he was now
expected to put on his reserve again, and he hastened to explain in
conventional fashion that the way she might regard the matter was really
a question of interest to him. Then Anthea looked at him, and they both
laughed as they turned away, which, as it happened, very nearly led to
Jimmy's flinging prudence aside again, and he felt relieved when he saw
Austerly and his daughter approaching them. Before the latter two joined
them, Anthea, however, once more turned to her companion.
"There is still something I wish to say, and perhaps I should have
mentioned it earlier; but in such cases one shrinks from causing pain,"
she said. "I should like you to believe that I was very sorry when I
heard--about your father."
Jimmy only made her a grave inclination, for, though he could not blame
her for it, his father's death was the most formidable of the barriers
between them, and, recognizing it, he felt a little thrill of dismay as
she turned off across the lawn toward where Mrs. Burnell was apparently
awaiting her. It afterward cost him an effort to talk intelligently to
Austerly and his daughter; but since they betrayed no astonishment at
his observations, he fancied that he had somehow accomplished it.