CROSSING WITH ROYALTY
After a perfectly uneventful voyage, the _Ivernia_, with Edestone
and his three men aboard, swung slowly to her dock. As the big vessel
had approached the coast the few cabin passengers were at first a
little nervous, but the contempt in which the officers held, or
pretended to hold, the submarine menace made itself soon felt
throughout the ship, and but for the thinness of their ranks all went
as usual. It is true that the little group of army contract-seekers
and returning refugees seemed to enjoy constituting themselves into
special look-outs, and regarded it as their particular duty, as long
as it did not interfere with their game of bridge, or might cause them
to lose a particularly comfortable and sheltered corner of the deck,
to notify the stewards if they happened to see anything which to them
looked like a periscope or floating mine.
Throughout the voyage Edestone kept very much to himself and in his
quarters occupied himself constructing a new instrument, and to the
hard-rubber case that had been provided for it he attached a wireless
receiver. In some of this work he was assisted by Stanton and Black,
two electricians he had brought with him, who, with James, his valet,
made up his party.
He had little time and less inclination to observe his neighbours, who
occupied the corresponding suite just across the passageway; but his
man James, who had been formally introduced to their servants,
insisted upon telling him all about them. They were, James said, the
Duchess of Windthorst and her daughter, the Princess Wilhelmina, who
were returning from Canada, where they had been visiting the Duke of
Connaught at Toronto.
But, if Edestone was preoccupied, the Princess, on the contrary,
being a girl of nineteen, with absolutely nothing on her mind, had
not failed to note the handsome young man across the passage.
Unconsciously answering to the irresistible call of youth, which is as
loud to the princess as to the peasant, she had watched him with a
great deal of interest, and had been fascinated by his faultless boots
and the fact that he failed to notice her at all.
Yet Edestone, it may be remarked, was not the only person on board
favoured with the royal regard. The Duchess, with the propensity of
her kind on visiting the States, had selected for her rare promenades
on deck a Broadway sport of the most absurd and exaggerated type,
known as “Diamond King John” Bradley.
This vagary is explained by the fact that the social chasm separating
them from all Americans is, to their limited vision, so infinitely
great that it is impossible for them to see and to understand the
niceties that the Americans draw between the butcher of New York and
the dry-goods merchant of Denver; and since it is impossible to see
nothing from infinity, they content themselves by selecting those who
are, in their opinion, typical, in order that in the short time they
can give to this study they may learn all of the characteristics of
this most extraordinary race, who on account of the similarity of
language have presumed to claim a relationship with them. They will
not accept as true what much of the world believes: that Old England
is in her decadence, and that her only hope is in those sons who have
left her and who, away from the debilitating influence of the
poisonous vapours arising from the ruins of her glory, are developing
the ancient spirit of their ancestors and are returning to her
assistance in her time of need.
As to the Princess, Edestone, although he noted that she was extremely
attractive in face and figure, did not give her a second thought. He
was amused at the attitude of the Duchess and her class, and was
willing to accept it, but it did not arouse any desire on his part to
follow the lead of the gentleman from Broadway and seek their
acquaintance. As a matter of fact, he had always found the young women
of the upper classes of England either extremely stupid or perfectly
willing to appear so to an American of his class.
Still, as it happened, he did meet the Princess. One night after
dinner he found her struggling with the door into the passage which
led to their adjoining apartments. She was, or pretended to be,
helpless in the wind that was blowing her down the deck as she clung
to the rail, and, quietly taking her by the arm, he pulled her back to
the door, where he held her until she was safely inside. This was all
done in a perfectly matter-of-fact manner, and she might as well have
been a steamer rug that was in danger of being blown overboard. Then
before she had time to thank him, the door was blown shut, and he had
resumed his solitary walk along the deck.
The next time that the Princess saw him, although she felt sure that
he must have known that she had looked in his direction, there was no
indication of any desire on his part to continue the acquaintance. He
had apparently entirely forgotten the episode or her existence, and
the pride of a beautiful young girl was hurt, and the dignity of
royalty offended--but the first was all that really mattered.
And so the voyage ended. The passengers all seemed perfectly willing
to go ashore, notwithstanding their assumption of indifference to the
German blockade. Edestone, as usual, was met by the fastest form of
locomotion, and before the trunks and bags had begun to toboggan down
to the dock, he was whirling up to London in the powerful motor car
belonging to his friend, the Marquis of Lindenberry. Edestone had
notified him by wireless to meet the steamer, and they were now being
driven directly to the Marquis’s house in Grosvenor Square. Stanton
and Black were left behind with James, who condescended with his
superior knowledge to assist them in getting the luggage through the
custom-house.
“Well what in the name of common sense has brought you over to England
at such a time as this?” demanded Lindenberry, after the automobile
had swept clear of the town and with a gentle purr had settled down to
its work. He leaned over as he spoke, to satisfy himself that the
chauffeur, having finished adjusting his glasses with one hand while
running at top speed, finally had both hands on the wheel, and then
turned expectantly to his companion.
“Oh, I see,” Lindenberry nodded when he found that he got no
satisfactory answer to this or the other inquiries he put; “you
evidently do not propose to take me into your confidence. Still, I
would not be so deucedly mysterious, if I were you. I call it beastly
rude, you know. Here I have come all the way from Aldershot, and am
using the greater part of my valuable leave in response to your crazy
wire. Tell me, is it a contract to deliver a dozen dreadnoughts at the
gates of the Tower of London before Easter Sunday?” and his eyes
twinkled, “or have some of your young Americans enlisted and the fond
parents sent you over to rescue them?”
Edestone smiled. “Well, the first thing I want, Lindenberry, is a
little chat with Lord Rockstone.”
“Oh, is that all?” with a satiric inflection. “Well, why in the name
of common sense didn’t you say so at first? I do not know, however,
that I can positively get you an appointment today. You must not mind
if His Lordship keeps you waiting for a few minutes if he happens to
be talking with the Czar of Russia on the long-distance telephone. You
know, we over here are still great sticklers on form. We are trying
hard to be progressive, but we still consider it quite rude to tell a
King to hold the wire while we talk to someone else who has not taken
the trouble that he has to make an appointment. You must remember that
he has perhaps dropped several shillings into the slot, and would
naturally be annoyed if told by the girl that time was up and to drop
another shilling.
“Or Lord Rockstone may perhaps be just in the midst of one of his
usual twenty-four-hour interviews with an American newspaper
representative,” he continued his chaffing. “Now if he does not invite
Graves and Underhill and Apsworth to have tea with you, you might drop
in at Boodles’ on your way back from the city, and we will just pop on
to Buckingham Palace and deliver to Queen Mary the ultimatum from the
suffragette ladies of the Sioux Indians.”
Edestone laughed so heartily that the footman nearly turned to see if
something had happened. “And they say that you Englishmen have no
sense of humour. The trouble with you though, old top, is that your
joke is so deucedly good that you don’t see the point yourself.”
They were just passing through one of Rockstone’s military camps,
where England’s recruited millions were being trained, and cutting
short his badinage Edestone gazed at the scene with interest.
“It does seem a pity that all these fine young fellows should be
sacrificed in order to settle a question which I could settle in a
very short time,” he said, becoming more serious.
“Settle it in a very short time?” repeated Lindenberry. “I would like
to know how you propose to do it. I know you are full of splendid
ideas, and invent all kinds of electrical contrivances to do things
that one can do perfectly well with one’s own hands. I suppose you
would take a large magnet and with it pull all of the German warships
out of the Kiel Canal, and hold them while you went on board and
explained to Bernhardi and von Bülow the horrors of war, and if they
did not listen to you, you would, like the Pied Piper of Hamelin lead
them off with all the other disagreeable odds and ends, submarines and
Zeppelins, to an island, way, way out in the ocean, where they would
have to stay until they promised to be good little boys?”
“Well, wouldn’t that be better than killing a lot of these fine young
fellows you have here?” demanded Edestone, although he smiled at his
friend’s fantastic idea.
“You Americans are developing into a nation of foolish old women,”
taunted Lindenberry, “and the sooner that you get into a muss like
this one we’re in, the sooner you will get back that fighting spirit
which has made you what you are. You are fast losing the respect of
the other nations by your present methods, always looking after your
own pocket-books while the rest of the world is bleeding to death.”
Edestone was thoughtful, and appeared to have no answer for this, and
Lindenberry reverted to his request.
“If you really want to have an interview with Lord Rockstone, Jack, I
think I can possibly arrange it. I will telephone to Colonel Wyatt,
who is on his staff, and find out what he can do for you.”
And so they chatted until coming to Grosvenor Square where they got
out of the automobile in front of an unpretentious red brick house
with an English basement entrance, trimmed with white marble and
spotlessly clean.
Lindenberry at once telephoned to Colonel Wyatt, who said that Lord
Rockstone was in and that if Edestone would come around at once he
would see to it that his letters were presented. As to an appointment,
he could promise nothing, but he did say to Lindenberry, not to be
repeated, that the Department was not at that time very favourably
disposed toward Americans.
With his usual promptness, Edestone jumped into his automobile and
started for Downing Street, not stopping even to wash his face and
hands nor to brush the dust from his clothes.
At the door he was met by an officer in khaki, was told that Colonel
Wyatt was expecting him, and was asked if he would be so kind as to
come up to the Colonel’s office. There he was told that his
credentials and letters could be presented that afternoon, but there
was practically no chance of an interview, as Lord Rockstone was
leaving the War Offices in a few minutes.
Word was finally brought in that Lord Rockstone would see Mr. Edestone
and receive his letters, but regretted that he would be unable to give
him an appointment, as he was leaving for the Continent in a few days
and affairs of state required his entire time--which translated into
plain English meant: “Come in, but get out as soon as you can.”
Shown into a large room, he saw seated at a big desk the man who is
said to have said that he did not know when the war would end, but he
did know when it would begin, and fixed that date at about eight
months after the actual declaration--after millions of pounds had been
expended and hundreds of thousands of English dead.
Cold, powerful, relentless, and determined, Edestone knew that it was
useless to appeal to a sense of humanity in this man who, sitting at
his desk early and late, directed the great machine that slowly but
surely was drawing to itself the youth and vigour of all England,
there to feed and fatten, flatter and amuse these poor boys from the
country, and with music and noise destroy their sensibilities before
sending them across the Channel to live for their few remaining days
in holes in the ground that no self-respecting beast would with his
own consent occupy.
To appeal to a sense of duty so strong in him as applied to England,
was one thing; but to convince him that Edestone as an American had a
sense of duty to the nations of Europe was something quite different.
This man of steel had no imagination, he was convinced, and to ask him
to follow him in his flights would be as useless as to request him to
whistle Yankee Doodle.
He had a chance to decide all this while Rockstone, who had risen and
received him with courtesy, was reading the letters he presented. The
great soldier’s face never changed once as he read them all with care.
“Your credentials are satisfactory,” he finally said, “but I do not
quite understand what it is you wish. Your letters say that you do not
want to sell anything, which is most extraordinary; I thought you
Americans always wanted to sell something.” And his face assumed the
expression of a man who, having no sense of humour, thought that he
had perhaps made a joke.
“If you have drawings and photographs of a new instrument of war,” he
caught himself up abruptly, “I should greatly prefer that you submit
these to the Ordnance Department; but since your Secretary of State
has been so insistent, I will look at them tomorrow. I will give you
an appointment from 9 to 9:15.”
And he rose and bowed.