soundings. Nothing was lost upon him, from Bobby's late arrival in a
somewhat sophisticated white evening gown that she had hitherto scorned,
to the new and becoming way in which her hair was arranged. It did not
require a Nelson eye to discover a suppressed excitement under her high
spirits or to detect the side-play that was taking place between her and
the apparently stolid Englishman at her right.
Captain Boynton looked at Mrs. Weston and raised one eyebrow; she nodded
comprehendingly. Later in the evening, when he dropped into a
steamer-chair beside her, he asked if she had seen Bobby.
"Not since dinner. All the young people have been asking for her. Did
you look in the writing-room ?"
"I've looked everywhere except in the coal-bunkers," said the captain,
gruffly. "Talk to me about responsibility. I'd rather run a schooner up
the Hoogli than to steer that girl of mine."
"You've wakened to your duty rather late, haven't you!" asked Mrs.
Weston. "I suppose it's the Englishman who is making you anxious?"
The captain dropped his voice.
"Did you see the way she looked at him at dinner? By George! it was
enough to melt the leg off an iron pot!"
"It's been coming for a week," said Mrs. Weston, wisely. "If you really
oppose it, there is no time to be lost."
"Oppose it? Of course I oppose it. What's to be done?"
"The situation requires delicate handling. Would you like me to try and
help you out--share the responsibility of chaperoning her, I mean?"
"Permanently?" asked the captain, shooting a quizzical glance at her
from under his heavy brows.
"You wretch!" said Mrs. Weston, flushing. "Just to Hong-Kong, I mean."
That night about ten o'clock the captain, who happened to be crossing
the steerage deck, came quite unexpectedly upon Percival and Bobby
groping their way through the dark.
[Illustration: "Roberta!" he called sternly. "What are you doing out
here?"]
"Roberta," he called sternly, "What are you doing out here?"
"Oh," cried Bobby, breathlessly, feeling her way around the hatch,
"we've been out on the prow for hours, and it was simply gorgeous.
All inky black except the phosphorescence, miles and miles of it! And
some dolphins, all covered with silver, kept racing with us and leaping
clear out of the water, like wriggly bits of fire. And the stars--why,
Mr. Hascombe's been telling me the most fascinating things I ever
heard about stars. We've had a perfectly wonderful time, haven't we,
Mr. Hascombe?"
"Topping!" said the Honorable Percival.
VIII
IN THE CROW'S-NEST
The sea-voyage of thirty days, which in the beginning had threatened
to stretch into eternity, now seemed to be racing into the past with a
swiftness that was incredible. To Percival the one desirable thing in
life had come to be the sailing of the high seas under favoring winds,
in a big ship, with Bobby Boynton on board, and a conscience that had
agreed to remain quiescent until port was reached.
Not that Percival's conscience succumbed without a struggle; he had to
assure it repeatedly that he would refrain from rousing in Bobby any
hopes that might be realized. The moment she showed the slightest sign
of taking his attentions seriously he would kindly, but firmly, make her
understand. It would not be the first time he had had to do this. He
recalled several instances with sad complacency. But a man cannot always
be sacrificing himself. A mild flirtation, with a girl whom he never
expected to see again was surely a harmless way of consoling himself for
the harsh treatment he had recently received from another of her sex.
The one fly in his amber these days was Andy Black; only Andy was not a
fixed object. His activities were endless, and, strangely enough, they
exerted a powerful influence on Percival, causing him to change his
entire mode of life from his hour of getting up to his hour of retiring.
In order to get half an hour's conversation with Bobby Boynton it was
necessary to outwit Andy, and he was devoting himself assiduously to
the task.
What complicated the matter was that Andy had embraced him in his
general affection for humanity, and despite persistent snubbing
continued to treat him as the friend of his bosom. Percival could hate
him contemptuously when he was out of sight, but he found it difficult
to keep up the dislike when the fat, boyish fellow sat on the sofa
opposite his berth and poured out his innermost confidences.
"You see," he would say plaintively as he reached for Percival's silver
shoe-horn, "I never slide into love, like most fellows. I always splash
right in, head first. That's what I did the first night I came on board,
and I haven't come up yet. When I do, she'll hit me in the head. She
won't have me; you see if she does."
Of course Percival agreed with him, but in the meanwhile he wondered
what Bobby could find in him to afford her such constant amusement.
One sparkling morning when the white caps were dancing on the blue
water, and every bit of loose canvas was spanking the wind for joy,
Bobby announced that she was going again to the crow's-nest. She had
circled the deck some ten times between her two cavaliers, and the
difficulty of keeping mental step with either in the presence of the
other may have influenced her sudden decision.
"What do you want to do that for?" said Andy, whose weight made him
cautious. "It's a mean climb, and there's nothing to see when you get
up there."
"There's everything to see," said Bobby and she looked at Percival.
Ten days ago nothing could have induced him to do such an unconventional
and conspicuous thing. He remembered the exact phrase he had applied
to it when told by the Scotchman of Bobby's previous adventure.
"Characteristically American," he had remarked, with a disparaging
shrug.
Now, with assumed languor, he said, "I don't mind going with you."
Two sailors were found to tie the ropes around their waists and stand
guard below while they slowly and cautiously climbed from one swaying
rung to another.
"All right?" asked Bobby, looking down over her shoulder.
"Right as rain," called Percival, with suggestion of eagerness in his
voice.
He followed her cautiously as she scrambled like a squirrel from the top
of the ladder to the crow's-nest. Swinging through the clear sky one
hundred feet above the water below, they found themselves in the sudden
intimacy of a vast and magnificent solitude. The sapphire sky met the
sapphire sea in a sharply defined, unbroken line around them, while
shimmers of palpitating light rose from the sparkling waters until they
lost themselves in the zenith above.
"Oh, look! look!" cried Bobby, with an eager hand on Percival's arm.
Turning, he saw the water suddenly disturbed by hundreds of curved
bodies that glistened in the sunlight as they leaped together in a
perfect riot of joy.
"Silly old fish, the porpoise," he said, "always making circles in the
water like that"
But the ennui expressed in his words was not reflected in his face. Even
silly old porpoises acquire an interest when one's attention is called
to them by a small and shapely hand that forgets in the enthusiasm of
the moment to remove itself from one's arm. It was only by sharply
calling to mind the haughty faces of his mother and sisters that he
refrained from indiscretion.
"You don't mind?" he asked, drawing his cigar-case from his pocket.
"Deuced clever of you, I call it, to think of coming up here. How did
you know that Black fellow wouldn't come?"
"He's too fat to climb," said Bobby. "He doesn't even like to walk."
"Thought he was quite keen about it from the way he walked with us every
evening. A decent chap would not intrude."
"That's funny!" said Bobby, with twinkling eyes. "That's almost exactly
what he said about you, only he didn't say intrude."
"What did he say?"
"Butt in," said Bobby.
The Honorable Percival suffered one of those acute revulsions that had
become less frequent of late. At such times he marveled at himself for
permitting such vulgarity in his presence.
"You Americans have the most extraordinary expressions, Miss Boynton!"
he said.
"How queer that sounds!"
"What?"
"Miss Boynton. I thought you'd got to the Bobby stage. Perhaps you'd
rather make it Roberta."
"Yes, I think I should, if I may."
For a few seconds they dropped into silence, he puffing away at his
cigar, and she gazing off to the horizon as if she had quite forgotten
his presence.
"Were you ever in love?" she asked, turning on him suddenly.
"Why do you ask?" he said, scrutinizing the ash of his cigar.
"Because it's so queer you never got married. I thought young Englishmen
with names and estates to keep up always married right away."
"Well, I suppose they do, as a rule. The Hascombes are rather
different. Of course there have been a lot of girls who were foolish
enough to--er--to think--"
"To think they were in love with you? Go ahead! I'll shut my eyes."
Instead, she opened them very wide, and he had to unbutton his coat just
for the sake of buttoning it up again.
"But I don't care about them," she went on; "I want to know if _you've_
ever been in love."
"Imagined I was once."
"Oh, what fun! Tell me about it from beginning to end!"
"How do you know it had an end!"
"I'd gamble on it," said Bobby, confidently. "But tell me!"
Just why Percival at this moment felt a sudden desire to discuss a
subject that hitherto he had shrunk from the slightest reference to can
be explained only by the fact that the confiding of an unhappy love
affair to a sympathetic member of the opposite sex seems a necessary
stage of convalescence. It was the first chance he had had to present
his version of the story to an unbiased listener, and if he omitted
certain details, and laid undue stress upon others, it must not be held
against him.
"Of course," he said in conclusion, "through a sense of honor I'd have
gone through with it. Fortunately, it was not necessary. Poor girl broke
it off herself."
He spoke as of one who had committed suicide, but in regard to whom a
kindly jury would have brought in a verdict of temporary insanity.
"Well, I think you were perfectly splendid, all through," cried Bobby.
"What sort of a girl could she have been to act like that?"
He took several long, satisfying pulls at his cigar; it was astonishing
how much he was enjoying it, and the conversation as well.
"Oh, she's quite one of the best, you know. Dare say she thought it was
all my fault."
"The idea! Was she pretty?"
"Opinions differ."
"Smart?"
"Rather!"
"Jolly?"
"Well, no, not exactly jolly; that's not quite the word."
"Very proper, I suppose,"
"Oh, yes, absolutely; most decidedly so. Perfect stickler for form."
Bobby sighed.
"Just the opposite from me all the way through. Well, I'm glad you
wouldn't make up. Serves her right."
"Probably best for everybody," said Percival. "Now it's your turn. How
about yourself!"
"Well," she said with what struck him as the strangest irrelevance, "our
scheme seems to be working with the captain. We've got him guessing. He
told me last night I was not to go to the prow with you again."
"Why not?"
"He thinks you like me too much."
"What do _you_ think?"
Percival bit his lip the moment he had asked it, but leaning there on
the railing, with her dancing eyes on a level with his own, and nothing
else on the entire horizon, it was difficult to keep the situation in
hand.
"I think you are getting a bully tan," she said, scrutinizing him
closely; "most men get a red nose or else they get all speckled around
the edges. Yours looks like a nice crust on an apple pie."
"I do tan rather decently," he said; "but you haven't told me what you
think."
"What about?"
"About my liking you too much."
"I think the captain exaggerated."
"He couldn't exaggerate that."
"But how can you like me when I'm all wrong?"
"I like you because of your possibilities. You've probably never met any
one before who understood you as I do. Quite extraordinary the way
you've improved since you came on board."
"And you've got fourteen days more to work on me! Do you think anybody
will recognize me when I get back to Wyoming?"
"Now you are chaffing!" complained Percival. "You never take me
seriously."
"Then you want me to be serious, and believe everything you say?"
He paused in awed contemplation of the direful consequences if she
should, but for the life of him he couldn't stop.
"I want you to believe me," he said tenderly, "when I say that you've
been most awfully sweet, and that I wouldn't give half a sovereign for
any other girl's chances if you were within ten miles. I want you to
know that I consider you the prettiest girl I've ever seen, and the
most--"
Bobby tightened the rope about her waist.
"It's time for me to be going," she exclaimed in mock alarm, "If you
keep on saying things like that, I may furnish another scalp to that
collection you were telling me about. I don't dare stay another minute."
Neither did Percival. He followed her down the ladder as if he had been
escaping from quicksands.
That night the crow's-nest was added to the prow on the list of places
about a ship which the captain felt young ladies should stay away from.
[Illustration: "You will have to join the crowd." suggested Bobby when
Percival complained of not seeing her as often as he wished]
"You will have to join the crowd," suggested Bobby when Percival
complained of not seeing her as often as he wished. "We sing up on the
boat-deck every night, and now the moon is up, it's perfectly gorgeous."
But Percival's abhorrence of crowds made him hold out resolutely until
the day before they were to land in Japan. Everybody was making plans
for the few days to be spent in port, and small parties were being
formed to leave the steamer at Yokohama and join it three days later
at Kobe. Percival was annoyed because the steamer had to stop at all.
Any interruption in the present routine was a nuisance. He vacillated
between the inconvenience of going ashore and the stupidity of remaining
on board. An invitation from Mrs. Weston to join her party, and an
insistent demand from Bobby Boynton, decided him. He made his
preparations accordingly.
But an unforeseen incident occurred the night before the _Saluria_
landed which caused him suddenly to change his plans. He was just ready
to go below for the night when an overmastering desire for one more word
with Bobby seized him. By a bit of Machiavellian strategy he had
outwitted Andy that afternoon, and had her entirely to himself for three
blissful hours.
It was in their old haunt behind the wind-shelter, and he had taken the
opportunity, if not to "shatter her to bits," at least "to remold her
nearer to the heart's desire." He had done it with consummate tact, and
she had responded with adorable docility. He never admired himself more
than in the rôle of cicerone to a young and trusting maid. By the
subtlest methods he knew how to convey approval or disapproval of
anything from a beaded slipper to a moral sentiment. He could stir
dormant ambition, rouse lagging courage, inspire patience, and all he
demanded in return was unfaltering homage from the fair one.
In the present instance, however, the entire time was not devoted to
correcting faults of manner and speech or to acquiring the higher
Christian virtues. It was incredible how many things they found to talk
about, considering the fact that art, literature, music, the drama,
foreign travel, and London gossip were not among them. Bobby's way of
diving unexpectedly from the general into the personal made a
tête-à-tête with her peculiarly exhilarating.
The trouble was that the more one had, the more one wanted, and going to
bed now without a parting word seemed to Percival really more than he
had a right to ask of himself. He circled the deck several times in
indecision, then he ascended the companionway and made his way aft.
A full moon hung high in the heavens, and a flood of silver poured in a
dazzling stream across the level surface of the sea. The quarter-deck,
the white boats amidships, and all the brass work abaft the funnels
reflected the radiance.
"See who is here!" cried the irrepressible Andy from an
indistinguishable group that huddled together under steamer-rugs against
the big blue-and-white smoke-stack.
"May I speak to Miss Boynton for a moment?" asked Percival, icily.
"I'm afraid I can't get out," said Bobby. "Elise is sitting on my feet,
and Andy and I've got on the same sweater. There's a place for you here,
if you will come."
It is really too undignified an act in the life of the Honorable
Percival to chronicle, but before he had time to contradict his impulse,
he had actually doubled up his long legs and crawled into the small
space Bobby made for him beside her. If she persisted in preferring this
noisy bunch of inanity to a quiet stroll on the promenade-deck with him,
then he supposed for the time being he must humor her.
Youth and love and moonlight at sea are a magic combination, however,
and Percival soon decided that even though it was deuced uncomfortable
to be huddled up like that, with both feet asleep, yet there were
compensations.
"Sing!" commanded Bobby, and he joined obediently in the chorus. As the
night wore on a caressing coolness crept into the air, and the crowd
gathered into a closer group. Percival could feel Bobby breathing near
him, and could look down undisturbed into her upturned face as she sang
with passionate abandon to the moon. She seemed to have entirely lost
sight of her surroundings and was off on some high adventure of her own,
leaving him free to watch her to his heart's content.
It was a situation fraught with danger; yet he lingered. He did more:
he slipped his hand beneath the rug and sought cautiously for hers. As
their palms met, and her small fingers closed responsively over his,
such a thrill of satisfaction passed over him as he had never felt
before. His old wounds were suddenly healed, life became a passionate
love-song on a languorous, moonlit sea. But his ecstasy ceased with the
music. Bobby's voice broke the spell with frightful distinctness:
[Illustration: "If you want to hold my hand, Mr. Hascombe, you are
welcome to it."]
"If you want to hold my hand, Mr. Hascombe, you are welcome to it.
Andy's got the other one; but if you don't mind, we'll put them all
together, like that, on top of the steamer-rug."
During the laugh that followed he managed to got to his feet and make
his escape. He had never been so angry in his life; he even included
himself in his devastating wrath. Why shouldn't he have been insulted,
laughed at, jeered at! When one allows oneself to associate with such
people, he ought to expect such behavior.
_"Plebeians!_" he snarled as he jerked together the curtains of his
berth and turned his face to the wall.
IX
DRAGGING ANCHOR
Of course, after what had happened, nothing could induce Percival to
join the Weston party in Japan. He left a note of formal regret, and
hastened ashore on the first launch in the morning. His one desire was
to avoid those detestable young Americans, whose diabolical laughter had
rung in his ears all night. The wounds received by vanity are never
serious, but they are very hard to heal, and as Percival stopped ashore
in this strange land he felt that he was the most unhappy of mortals.
"Call a hansom," he demanded impatiently of Judson, who stood grinning
at the queer sights on the hatoba.
"There ain't none, sir."
"Of course; I forgot. But how are we to get to the hotel?"
"Carn't say, sir, unless we go in a couple of them perambulators."
Percival took an instant dislike to a country that forced him to ride
in a ridiculous vehicle, pulled by a small bare-legged brown man in a
mushroom hat. All the way to the hotel he was unhappy in the conviction
that he was making a spectacle of himself.
The rooms which he had engaged in advance were not satisfactory, and it
was not until he had inspected all the suites that were unoccupied that
he decided upon one that commanded a view of the bay. Once established
therein, he despatched Judson for his mail and for any English papers
that might be found, then took up his position by a front window and
sternly watched the bund.
The picturesque harbor, full of sampans and junks, the gay streets, full
of color and movement, the thousand unfamiliar sights and sounds, held
no interest for the Honorable Percival. His whole attention was focused
upon the jinrikishas that constantly arrived and departed at the
entrance below.
He wanted to see Bobby's face and read there the signs of contrition,
which he felt sure must have followed her unfeeling conduct of the night
before. But he intended to punish her before he forgave. Such a violence
to their friendship could not go unrebuked. Even when he received the
note of apology which he felt sure she would send up the moment she
reached the hotel, he would delay answering it. She must be made to
suffer in order to profit by this unhappy experience.
His reflections were interrupted by a rap at the door, which called him
away from the window. It proved to be a sleek Chinaman, who proffered
his card, bearing the inscription:
"G. Lung Fat, Ladies' and Gents' Tailer."
G. Lung Fat, it seemed, had beheld Percival in the lobby and been
greatly impressed with his bearing. It would be an honor, he urged, with
the fervor of an artist craving permission to paint a subject that had
captured his fancy, to cut, fit, and finish any number of garments for
such a figure before the ship sailed on the morrow.
Percival was impressed. He examined the samples with the air of a
connoisseur. Like most Englishmen, he had a weakness for light clothes
and sun-helmets. The regalia suggested English supremacy in foreign
lands. He had ordered his fourth suit and was earnestly considering a
white dinner-jacket when familiar voices from the street below made him
spring to the window.
It was Bobby Boynton and Andy Black, who were evidently setting forth in
jinrikishas alone, Mrs. Weston and the other young people remaining to
inspect the fascinating array of curios that were being displayed on the
pavement. If any sorrow for past misdeeds dwelt in Bobby's bosom, there
was certainly no trace of it on her face as she called gaily back over
her shoulder:
"We are off for a lark; you needn't look for us until you see us."
Percival dismissed the Chinaman peremptorily, and paced his room in
indignation. It was incredible that a girl who had basked in the sun of
his approval could find even temporary pleasure in the feeble rushlight
of Andy Black's society. Not that it made the slightest difference to
him where she went or with whom. If her father saw fit to permit her to
go forth in a strange city with a strange man, unchaperoned, of course
it was not for him to interfere. But that she should have, at the first
opportunity, disregarded his counsels, to which she had listened with
such flattering attention, angered him beyond measure. He bitterly
assured himself that all women were alike, an assertion which seems to
bring universal relief to the masculine mind.
His ill humor was not decreased when Judson returned, after a long
delay, and reported that the mail had been sent to the steamer. Not
content with being the bearer of this unpleasant news, Judson committed
the indiscretion of waxing eloquent over the charms of Japan. Percival
considered it impertinent in an inferior to express enthusiasm for
anything that was under the ban of his disapproval. Before the
discussion ended it became his painful duty to remind Judson of the fact
that he was an ass.
At tiffin-time, when he descended to the dining-room, owing to the
recent arrival of two steamers, all the tables were engaged. There was
one in the corridor, he was told, if he did not mind another gentleman.
He did mind; he much preferred a table alone, but he also wanted his
luncheon. He followed the unctuous head waiter the length of the big
dining-room, winding in and out among the small tables, only to emerge
finally into the corridor and find himself face to face with his _bête
noire_, Captain Boynton.
"Hello! Can't lose you," was the captain's gruff greeting. "How does it
happen that you aren't off with the crowd doing the sights?"
"Sights bore me," said Percival, unfolding his napkin with an air of
lassitude.
"Crowds, too, eh? Twoing more in your line?"