Visam Britannos hospitibus feros.
HORACE, _Lib. 3, Carm. 4._
Mrs. Dusenall liked the visit to Kingston. She was proud of the
appearance her guests and family made at the church, and she thought of
going home and writing a book as prodigal of pretty woodcuts and
fascinating price-lists as those published by other gilded ladies. True,
she had with her no young children wherewith to awake interest in
foreign places by detailing what occurred in the ship's nursery; and
thus she might have been driven to say something about the foreign
places themselves, which, in a book of travels, are perhaps of secondary
importance when a whole gilded family may be studied in their
interesting retirement.
They kept a log on the Ideal, and each one had to take his or her turn
at keeping the account of the cruise posted up to date.
Some events on board or near the Ideal did not come under Mrs.
Dusenall's notice and did not appear in the log-book. Nobody flirted
with Mrs. Dusenall to make her experience exciting, and her book, if
written, would have been one long panorama of landscape interlarded with
the mildest of items. But compress your world even to the size of a
yacht, and there will be still more going on, in the same eternal way,
than any one person can observe, especially if that person happens to be
a chaperon.
The first evening among the islands was spent in different ways. Some
paddled about to explore or bathe. Flirtation of a mild type was
prevalent--interesting possibly to the parties concerned, and, as usual,
to themselves only. Toward dusk the gig was manned by the crew for the
transportation of Mrs. Dusenall and part of her suite across the river
through the islands to the hotels at Alexandria Bay on the American
shore. The hotel guests on the balconies and verandas were continuing to
enjoy or endure that eternal siesta which at these places seems to be
quite unbroken save at meal times, and the arrival of a number of very
presentable people in a handsome gig, rowed in the man-of-war style by
uniformed sailors and steered by a person with a gold-lace badge on his
cap, created a ripple of interest. Among those on the verandas engaged,
perhaps overtaxed, in the digestion of their dinners, not a few were
slightly interested by what they saw. In a group of a dozen or more a
gentleman behind a solitaire shirt-stud, worth a good year's salary for
a Victoria Bank clerk seemed to be speaking the thoughts of the party,
though his words came out chiefly as a form of soliloquy. He seemed to
be taking a sort of admiring inventory of the gig and its occupants as
it approached the landing wharf:
"Small sailor boy--standing in the bow--with a spear in his hand."
It was a boat-hook in the boy's hand, but it might have been a trident.
"He's real cunnin'--that boy--in his masquerade suit. Four sailors--also
in masquerade costume. And they can make her hump up the river,
sure's-yer-born. Now I wonder who those fellows are--in buttons--with
gold badges on their hats. Wonder what those badges might imply! Part of
the masquerade, I guess. But stylish--very."
Then, turning to a friend, he said:
"Cha'ley, those people are yachting round here."
At this discovery the exhausted-looking refugee from overwork in some
city addressed as "Cha'ley," whose face was lit up solely by a cigar,
answered slowly but decisively:
"Looks like it--very."
Then followed a quick mental calculation in the head of the gentleman
behind the solitaire, and, as the boat came alongside the landing, the
oars being handled with trained accuracy, he said:
"I wonder how many of those paid men they have on board. I like it. I
like the whole thing. I shall do it myself next summer. And right up to
the handle. Cha'ley, bet you half a dollar that those are first-class
gentlemen and ladies down there, and we ought to go down and _re_ceive
them."
"Why, certainly," said the other in grave, staccato tones, which seemed
to deny the exhaustion of his appearance by indicating some internal
strength. "James," he added in solemn self-reproach, "we should have
been down--on the landing--to assist the ladies from their canoe."
As they left the veranda several ladies called after them:
"Mr. Cowper, we would be pleased to have you bring the ladies up."
Mr. Cowper bowed with gravity, but did not say anything, as he was
preparing within him his form of self-introduction.
In a few moments Mr. Cowper and Mr. Withers met our party as they slowly
meandered up the ascent toward the hotel. Mr. Cowper, hat in hand, gave
them collectively a bow, which, if somewhat foreign in its nature, was
not without dignity, and he addressed them with unmistakable
hospitality, while Mr. Withers, by a flank movement, attacked the left
wing of the party, where he conducted a little reception of his own.
Mr. Cowper said, "How do you do, ladies and gentlemen?"
Mrs. Dusenall bowed and smiled, and the others, wondering what was
coming, bowed also as they caught Mr. Cowper's encompassing eye. "We
regret," he said, looking toward Geoffrey, to whom he was more
especially attracted on account of his cap-badge and greater stature.
"We regret, captain, that we did not notice your arrival in time to be
on the landing to assist the ladies from your canoe."
Geoffrey's smile only indicated his gratification and had no reference
to Mr. Cowper's new name for the yacht's gig.
"We are only guests in the hotel ourselves, but if we had known of your
coming some of us certainly would have been down to _re_ceive you in the
proper manner."
What "proper manner" of reception Mr. Cowper had in his head it is
difficult to say. His words showed Mrs. Dusenall, however, that he was
not the custom-house officer or the hotel-keeper, which relieved her of
some anxiety lest she should make a mistake. At a slight pause in his
flow of language she thanked him in her most reassuring accents, and
continued in those suave tones and with that perfect self-possession,
with which the English duchess, her head a little on one side and chin
upraised, has been supposed carelessly to assert her person, crown, and
dignity.
"I assure you," she said, "that we are only knocking about, as it were,
quite informally, from place to place in the yacht."
"Quite informally," echoed Geoffrey, who was enjoying Mrs. Dusenall.
She added: "So, of course, we could not think of allowing you to give
yourselves any trouble on our account."
In what pageantry Mrs. Dusenall proceeded when not traveling quite
informally Mr. Cowper did not give himself the trouble to consider. The
thought came to him that he might be entertaining an English duchess
unawares, but the succeeding consciousness that he could probably buy up
this duchess "and her whole masquerade" fortified him as with triple
brass.
"Madam," he said, with that distinctness and intensity with which
Americans convey the impression that they mean what they say, "if we
have neglected you and your friends at first, we will be pleased if you
will allow us now to try to make your visit attractive."
Mrs. Dusenall thought this was assuming a heavy responsibility.
"If you will come up on the pe-az-a, there are a number of real nice
ladies who would be most pleased to meet you."
Several of the party began to think that the cares of "knocking about
quite informally" were about to commence. But as there was no escape,
and all smiled pleasantly, and Mr. Cowper conversed as he and Mr.
Withers led them up to the "pe-az-a." He was gratified at the way they
responded to his endeavors; and perhaps he was not without a latent wish
to show his hotel friends how perfectly at home he was in "first-class
British society."
"There is always something going on here," he said; "and if there is
nothing on just now we will get up something real pleasant--or my name's
not Cowper."
This hint as to his identity was not thrown away, and as it seemed more
than likely that they were about to be entertained immediately by this
gentleman behind the solitaire headlight, it occurred to Geoffrey that
it would be as well for the party to know what his name was.
"Mr. Cowper, let me introduce you to Mrs. Dusenall."
This quickness on Geoffrey's part relieved Mr. Cowper from any
difficulty in mentioning his own name. Mrs. Dusenall then introduced him
in a general way to the remainder of the party. To Miss Dusenall it was
impossible for him to do more than bow, as she was chilling in her
demeanor. She had received, as has been hinted, that final distracting
finishing polish which an English school is expected to give, and she
sought to be so entirely English as not to know what cosmopolitan
courtesy was.
Margaret's face, however, gave Mr. Cowper encouragement and pleasure,
and, as he shook hands warmly with her, something in her appearance gave
a new spur to his hospitable intentions. The energy of a new nation
seemed bottled up within him, as he said to Margaret:
"If I can't get up something here to make you enjoy yourself, why--why
don't believe in me any more."
His evident but respectful admiration could only elicit a laugh and a
blush. It was impossible to resist Mr. Cowper in his energetic intention
to be host, and, in spite of his dazzling headlight, the national
generosity and forgetfulness of self were so apparent in him that
Margaret "took to him" in a way that mystified the other girls, who
regarded the headlight only as a warning beacon placed there by
Providence to preserve young ladies with an English boarding-school
finish from undesirable associations.
Mr. Cowper was what is called "self-made"--a word that in the States
conveys with it no implied slur--for the simple reason that there is not
the same necessity for it as in England. Speaking generally, an American
has a generous consideration for women and a largeness of character, or
rather an absence of smallness, not yet sufficiently recognized as
national characteristics. He is generally the same man after "making his
pile" as before--not always fully acquainted, perhaps, with social
veneer, but kind, keen, and generous to a fault. It would be an insult
to such a one to compare him with the "self-made" Englishman, whose rude
pretension of superiority to those poorer than himself, truckling
servility to rank and position, and ignorance of everything outside his
own business render him very unlovely.
"Now," said Mr. Cowper, when he had been introduced to them all. "Now,"
he said, "we're all solid. We will just step up-stairs, if you please."
He looked at them all pleasantly as he offered his arm to assist Mrs.
Dusenall's ascent. When they arrived on the veranda above, his idea was
that, in order to bring about the perfect concord he desired to see,
individual introductions were necessary. To Mrs. Dusenall he introduced
a large number of lean girls and stout women, ninety per cent of whom
said "pleased to meet you," and Mrs. Dusenall, appearing, with
surprising activity of countenance, to be freshly gratified at each
introduction, quite won their hearts.
But when Mr. Cowper commenced to introduce them all over again to
Margaret, that young person, not being afraid of women, rebelled, and,
touching his arm to stay his impetuous career, said: "Oh, no, it will
take too long. Let me do it." Then she turned to the company. "As Mr.
Cowper says, my name is Mackintosh," and she ducked them a sort of
old-fashioned courtesy. The company bowed--some smiling and some solemn
at her audacity. "And very much at your service," she added, as she
dipped again to the solemn ones--capturing them also. Then she turned to
the others. "And this is Miss Dusenall," and so-and-so, and so-and-so,
until they were all made known.
"And this is Morry," she said lastly, taking the little man by the
coat-sleeve. "Make your bow, Morry."
Rankin remained gazing on the ground until she shook him by the sleeve.
Then he took a swift, scared glance at the assembly, and said, "I'm
shy," and hid his head behind tall Margaret's shoulder. This absurdity
amused the American girls, and five or six of them, forgetting their
stiffness, crowded around to encourage him. A beaming matron came up to
Margaret and took her kindly by the elbows.
"I must kiss you, my dear. You did that so charmingly."
"Indeed, it's very kind of you to say so," replied Margaret, as she
received an affectionate salute. "Long introductions are so tiresome,
are they not?"
"They do take time, my dear," said the motherly person, as they sat down
together.
"Yes, time and introductions should be taken by the forelock," smiled
Margaret.
"Just what you did, my dear. I _do_ wish I had a daughter like you. Oh
my!" And the little woman's face grew long for a moment at some sad
recollection. An interesting episode of family sorrow would have been
confided to Margaret if they had not been interrupted by the arrival of
four tall young men, in company with Mr. Withers. The grave, worn-out
face of Mr. Withers had just a flicker in it as his strong
ratchet-spring voice addressed itself to our party:
"Mrs. Dusenall and friends, permit me to introduce to you the 'Little
Frauds.'"
The four tall young men bowed with the usual gravity, and then mixed
with the company. They wore untanned leather and canvas shoes, dark-blue
stockings, light-colored knickerbocker trousers, and leather belts.
Navy-blue flannel shirts, with white silk anchors on the broad collars,
completed their costume, with the exception of black neck-ties and stiff
white linen caps with horizontal leather peaks. Taken as a whole, their
costume was such a happy combination of a baseball player's and a
Pullman-car conductor's that the brain refused to believe in the
maritime occupation suggested by the white anchors.
Mr. Withers explained who they were.
"The Little Frauds," he said, "are a party of young men who live
together in a kind of small shanty on one of the neighboring islands.
Although the locality is picturesque, they do not live here during the
winter, but only migrate to these parts when--well, when I suppose no
other place will have them. They come here every year to enjoy the
solitude of a hermit-life. Here they withdraw themselves from their
fellow-man, and more especially their fellow-woman."
The gentlemen referred to were taking no manner of notice of Mr.
Withers, and in their chatter with the girls were not living up to their
character.
"The reason why they are called 'Little Frauds' has now almost ceased to
be handed down by the voice of tradition," continued Mr. Withers. "It is
not because they are intrinsically more deceptive than other men. No man
who had any deception in his nature would go round with a leg like this
without resorting to artifice to improve its shape."
Mr. Withers here picked up a blue-covered pipe-stem which served one of
the Frauds with the means of locomotion.
"That, ladies and gentlemen," said Mr. Withers, slowly, in the tone of a
lecturer, and poising the limb in his hand, "is essentially the leg of a
hermit. If for no other reason than to hide that leg from the public,
its owner, ladies, should become a hermit."
The leg here became instinct with life, and Mr. Withers suddenly stepped
back and gasped for breath. Then he explained further:
"Seeing that the origin of the name is now almost lost in obscurity, the
Little Frauds themselves have lately taken advantage of this fact,
ladies, to palm off upon the public a spurious version of the story.
They say, in fact, that because they systematically withdrew themselves
into a life of celibacy and retirement, and being, as they claim, very
desirable as husbands, this name was given to them as being frauds upon
the matrimonial market."
Somebody here called out: "Oh, dry up, Withers!"
Mr. Withers took a glass of champagne from one of the waiters passing
with a tray and did quite the reverse. He took two gulps, threw the rest
over the railing, and continued:
"One glance, ladies, at these people, who are really outcasts from
society, will satisfy you that their explanation of the term is as
palpably manufactured as the manuscripts of Mr. Shapira--"
"Mister who?" inquired a profane voice.
"Unaccustomed as they are to the usages of polite society, ladies, you
will excuse any utterances on their part that might seem intended to
interrupt my discourse. The real reason of this ridiculous name is as
follows--"
Here, a remarkably good-looking Fraud stood up before Mr. Withers and
obliterated him. He spoke in a voice something like a corn-craik:
"We commissioned Mr. Withers to speak to you, Mrs. Dusenall, and to your
party, on a topic of great interest to ourselves, but as the night is
likely to pass before Mr. Withers gets to the point, we will have to
dispense with his services."
Mr. Withers had already retired behind his cigar again, with the air of
a man who had acquitted himself pretty well.
The Frauds then begged leave to invite by word of mouth all our party to
a dance next evening on their island.
Mrs. Dusenall accepted for all, as she rose to go, suggesting, at the
same time, that perhaps some of her new friends, if they did not think
it too late, would accompany them across the water in the moonlight to
examine their yacht.
After some conversation, a number went with Mrs. Dusenall in the gig,
while Margaret and the rest of our party were ferried over by Frauds and
others in their long and comfortable row-boats.
Some more champagne was broached on the yacht, but Mr. Withers said he
remembered once, early in life, drinking some of the old rye whisky of
Canada, and that since then he had always sought for annexation with
that delightful country.
To the surprise of Mrs. Dusenall, both he and all the "Melican men" took
rye whisky, and ignored her champagne.
The dismay of Mr. Cowper on hearing that the yacht would depart on the
morning after the Frauds' dance was unfeigned. He said it "broke him all
up."
"Just when we were getting everything down solid for a little time
together," he said.
Mrs. Dusenall explained that the yacht was to take part in a race at
Toronto in a few days, and must be on hand to defend her previously won
laurels.
"Well, Mrs. Dusenall," said Mr. Cowper thoughtfully, "I have myself,
over there in the bay, a small smoke-grinder that--"
"A--what?" inquired Mrs. Dusenall.
"A steamboat, madame--a small steam-yacht. Nothing like this, of
course." He waved his hand airily as if he considered himself in a
floating palace. "But very comfortable, I do assure you. Now, if you are
going away so soon, the only thing I can do is to get you all to visit
the different islands round here in my steam-barge. I call her the old
roadster, madame, because she can't do her mile in better than three
minutes."
As this represented a speed of twenty miles an hour, Mrs. Dusenall said
it was fast enough for her. If he could have got a steamboat fast enough
to beat the best trotting record Mr. Cowper would have been content.
It was settled that at eleven o'clock next day the steamer should call
and take the whole party off to visit the islands; and he suggested
that, as there would be "a sandwich or something" on the boat, Mrs.
Dusenall need not think about a return to the Ideal for luncheon.
He then gravely addressed himself to the four Frauds and to Mr. Withers:
"Gentlemen, before we leave this elegant vessel, I wish to remind you
that no real old Canadian rye whisky will pass our lips again until such
a chance as this once more presents itself. Gentlemen, as this is the
last drink we will have to-night, we will, with Mrs. Dusenall's
permission, make ready our glasses, and we will dedicate and consecrate
this toast to the success of the Ideal and her delightful crew. Mrs.
Dusenall--ladies and gentlemen of the Ideal--this toast is not only to
celebrate our new acquaintance, which we hope may have in the future
more chances to ripen into intimacy (and which on our part will never be
forgotten), but we drink it also for another reason--for another less
worthy reason--and I can not disguise from you the fact that, to speak
plainly, _we like the liquor_. Madame, the gentlemen of the Ideal have
consented to come back with me now, to smoke just one cigar on the hotel
before we all retire for the night. Citizens of the United States,
Frauds, and others, as this is the last drink we are to have to-night,
we will drink the toast in silence."
The gravity of the Americans is a huge national sham, throwing into
relief their humor and sunshiny good-will, as in a picture a somber gray
background throws up the high lights.
In half an hour more all the men were back at the hotel with Mr.
Cowper; but, instead of pursuing the tranquil occupation of smoking a
cigar, as he proposed, they were led in and confronted with a banquet in
which the extensive resources of the hotel had been taxed to the utmost
Mr. Cowper called it the "little something to eat," as he pressed them
to come from the verandas into the hotel. But really it was a
magnificent affair, and, as Mr. Lemons, who was eloquent on the subject,
said, it was calculated to appeal to a man's most delicate
sensibilities.
We will not follow them any further on this evening. Mr. Cowper's idea
was to all have a good time together--banish stiffness, promote
intimacy, and to drive to the winds all cares. He certainly succeeded,
for at twelve o'clock there was not a "Mister" in the room for anybody.
At one o'clock it was "Jack, old man," and "Cowper, old chappie," all
round. At two o'clock the friendship on all sides was not only
hermetically sealed, but it promised to be eternal, and after that, it
was thought the night was a little dark for Charley Dusenall to return
with the others to the yacht, so he remained at the hotel till morning.