"I TOLD YOU SO"
It may be the limitless horizon, it may be the comradery of confinement,
it may be the old superstition of a plank between one and eternity, or
it may be some occult influence of ship and ocean; but certain it is
that there is no such place in all the world as a deck of a
transatlantic liner for softening young hearts, until they lose all
semblance of shape, and for melting them into each other so that out of
twain there comes but one. I think Polly was pleased to watch this
melting process, as it began to show itself in our young people, from
the safe retreat of her steamer chair and behind the covers of her book.
I couldn't find that she read two chapters from any book during the
whole voyage, or that she was miserable or discontented. She just
watched with a comfortable "I told you so" expression of countenance;
and she never mentioned home lot or garden or roses, from dock to dock.
It is as natural for a woman to make matches as for a robin to build
nests, and I suppose I had as much right to find fault with the one as
with the other. I did not find fault with her, but neither could I
understand her; so I fretted and fumed and smoked, and walked the deck
and bet on everything in sight and out of sight, until the soothing
influence of the sea took hold of me, and then I drifted like the rest
of them.
No, I will not say "like the rest of them," for I could not forgive this
waste of space given over to water. In other crossings I had not noted
the conspicuous waste with any feeling of loss or regret; but other
crossings had been made before I knew the value of land. I could not get
away from the thought that it would add much to the wealth of the world
if the mountains were removed and cast into the sea. Not only that, but
it would curb to some extent the ragings of this same turbulent sea,
which was rolling and tossing us about for no really good reason that I
could discover. The Atlantic had lost much of its romance and mystery
for me, and I wondered if I had ever felt the enthusiasm which I heard
expressed on all sides.
"There she spouts!" came from a dozen voices, and the whole passenger
list crowded the port rail, just to see a cow whale throwing up streams
of water, not immensely larger than the streams of milk which my cow
Holsteins throw down. The crowd seemed to take great pleasure in this
sight, but to me it was profitless.
I have known the day when I could watch the graceful leaps and dives of
a school of porpoises, as it kept with easy fin, alongside of our ocean
greyhound, with pleasure unalloyed by any feeling of non-utility. But
now these "hogs of the sea" reminded me of my Chester Whites, and the
comparison was so much in favor of the hogs of the land, that I turned
from these spectacular, useless things, to meditate upon the price of
pork. Even Mother Carey's chickens gave me no pleasure, for they
reminded me of a far better brood at home, and I cheerfully thanked the
noble Wyandottes who were working every third day so that I could have a
trip to Europe. To be sure, I had European trips before I had
Wyandottes; to have them both the same year was the marvel.
Before we reached Queenstown, Jarvis had gained some ground by twice
picking me out of the scuppers; but as I resented his steadiness of foot
and strength of hand, it was not worth mentioning. I could see, however,
that these feats were great in Jane's eyes. The double rescue of a
beloved parent, from, not exactly a watery grave, but a damp scupper,
would never be forgotten. The giant let her adore his manly strength and
beauty, and I could only secretly hope that some wave--tidal if
necessary--would take him off his feet and send him into the scuppers.
But he had played football too long to be upset by a watery wave, and I
was balked of my revenge.
Jack and Jessie were rather a pleasure to me than otherwise. They
settled right down to the heart-softening business in such
matter-of-fact fashion that their hearts must have lost contour before
the voyage was half over. Polly dismissed them from her mind with a sigh
of satisfaction, and I then hoped that she would find some time to
devote to me, but I was disappointed. She assured me that those two were
safely locked in the fold, but that she could not "set her mind at rest"
until the other two were safe. After that she promised to take me in
hand; whether for reward or for punishment left me guessing.
The six and a half days finally came to an end, and we debarked for
Queenstown. The journey across Ireland was made as quickly as slow
trains and a circuitous route would permit, and we reached Sligo on the
second day. Sir Thomas's agent met us, and we drove at once to the
"little castle out from Sligo." It proved to be a very old little
castle, four miles out, overlooking the bay. It was low and flat, with
thick walls of heavy stone pierced by a few small windows, and a broad
door made of black Irish oak heavily studded with iron. From one corner
rose a square tower, thirty feet or more in height, covered with wild
vines that twined in and out through the narrow, unglazed windows.
Within was a broad, low hall, from which opened four rooms of nearly
equal size. There was little evidence that the castle had been inhabited
during recent years, though there was an ancient woman care-taker who
opened the great door for us, and then took up the Irish peasant's wail
for the last of the O'Haras. She never ceased her crooning except when
she spoke to us, which was seldom; but she placed us at table in the
state dining room, and served us with stewed kid, potatoes, and goat's
milk. The walls of the dining room were covered with ancient pictures of
the O'Haras, but none so recent as a hundred years. We could well
believe Sir Tom's words, "the sod has known us for a thousand years,"
when we looked upon the score of pictures, each of which stood for at
least one generation.
The agent told us that our friend had never lived at the castle, but
that he had visited the place as a child, and again just before leaving
for America. A wall-enclosed lot about two hundred feet square was "the
kindest sod in all the world to an O'Hara," and here we placed our dear
friend at rest with the "lucky ones" of his race. No one of the race
ever deserved more "luck" than did our Sir Tom. The young clergyman who
read the service assured us that he had found it; and our minds gave the
same evidence, and our hearts said Amen, as we turned from his peaceful
resting-place by the green waters of Sligo Bay.
Two days later we were comfortably lodged at The Hague, from which we
intended to "do" the little kingdom of Holland by rail, by canal, or on
foot, as we should elect.