HALF-AWAKE, HALF-ASLEEP
Few persons find life enjoyable in a great storm at sea, for the
discomfitures of mind and body are many. The ship's officers and crew are
always concerned about the welfare of the passengers and the safety
of steamer and cargo.
True, Leo, with the instincts of an artist, had stood for hours on the
deck, partially sheltered by a smoke-stack, to study wave motions and the
ever-changing effects of the ocean. Never before had he known its
sublimity. When the sea was wildest and the deck was wave-swept, he in
his safe retreat made sketches of waves and their combinations which he
hoped sometime to reproduce on canvas. At other times, conscious of storm
dangers in mid-ocean, Leo's conscience troubled him. For a year he had
been much in love with a pretty Italian girl, daughter of an official,
long in the service of the Italian government at the port of New York.
Rosie Ricci was fifteen years old when she first met Leo. Dressed in
white, she entered an exhibition of water colors on W. 10th street with
her mother one May morning, as Leo had finished hanging a delicate marine
view sketched down the Narrows.
Glances only between Leo and Rosie were exchanged, but each formed the
resolution sometime, if possible, to know the other. Rosie's father had
died when she was only fourteen years old, and existence for Mrs. Ricci
and her little family had been a struggle. For the last year, a happy
change had come in their condition. A letter had been received from a
rich senator by Mrs. Ricci, which was couched in the tenderest language.
The senator explained in his letter that at a musicale, given on Fifth
Avenue, he had heard a Rosie Ricci sing a simple song that revived
memories of an early day. This fact, coupled with Rosie's charming
simplicity and vivacity of manner, fixed her name in his mind; later he
was reading the _New York Tribune_, and the name Ricci arrested his
attention.
The item mentioned the death of Raphael Ricci, ex-consul, and the
senator's object in writing was to inquire further as to the facts. Did
he leave a competency? If not, would the family receive such assistance
as would enable the daughter, if Rosie Ricci was her daughter, to obtain
a further musical education?
The senator's letter dropped from the mother's hands; she was overcome
with the good news. Rosie picked it up saying, "Mother dear, what is the
matter? What terrible news does it contain?"
"Not bad news, child! possibly good news; a letter from a stranger who
offers aid in our distress, a letter from one holding a high position.
I wonder what it all means? Has the senator been prompted by the spirit
of your anxious father, or is there evil in the communication?"
"Tell me, mother, tell me all about it!" But before the mother could
speak, Rosie was reading the letter aloud. She threw up her hands in
delight and flew into her mother's arms. "How good the Lord is to us!"
Rosie exclaimed. She had been eager for a musical education and to win
fame on the stage.
In June, by appointment, Mrs. Ricci and daughter met the Senator at the
Fifth Avenue Hotel. It was arranged that Rosie should have the best
musical education obtainable in Boston, and further that the senator
should pay her expenses in Boston and New York, and that the mother's
rent should be included in his liberality. At times, the mother
questioned the senator's motives, but he always seemed so kind and
fatherly that she spurned the thought as coming from the Evil One.
The senator as he left, put several bills in Mrs. Ricci's hand, saying,
"You and Rosie will find need of them for clothes for the daughter and
for other expenses."
Never was a girl happier than Rosie the morning she and her mother left
the Grand Central Depot for New England. Rarely, if ever, did a girl work
harder than Rosie at her studies. Her soul often had burned with ambition
for fame and for money so that she could assist her mother. The way was
now open and success was possible. At the sunset hour she often walked
with a friend among the historic elms on Boston Common and in the
beautiful flower gardens.
Often young men longed for her acquaintance, but they could never get the
consent of her pretty eyes. She was petite, her hair black, her eyes dark
brown, her lips ruby-red, and her nose and chin finely chiselled. She had
a cameo-like face and complexion of olive tint that told of the land of
vines and figs in sunny Italy. Her step was elastic, her manner vivacious
and confiding. Her dress was always tidy and stylish. Usually she carried
a roll of music in one hand as she left the conservatory, and lovely
flowers in the other that had been expressed either by the senator or
Leo.
On the completion of her course in the conservatory, Leo had pressed his
suit so devotedly that Rosie consented to an engagement without her
mother's knowledge. The ring of gold contained a single ruby, and Leo had
had engraved on the inside of the ring, "Et teneo, et teneor." When Rosie
saw the old Roman motto she said, "I hold, and am held. How appropriate,
Leo! Your love for me, devotion to the beautiful, and our bright memories
of artistic Italy shall bind us together forever.
"But Leo, why do you put the ring on the third finger before marriage?"
Leo answered, "Because I have read somewhere that many centuries ago the
Egyptians believed that the third finger was especially warmed by a small
artery that proceeded directly from the heart. The Egyptians also
believed that the third finger is the first that a new born babe is able
to move, and the last finger over which the dying lose control."
"Nonsense," replied Rosie, "once the wedding ring, studded with precious
stones, was worn on the forefinger; Christianity moved it to the third
finger. Its use was originated in this way: the priest first put it on
the thumb, saying 'In the name of the Father'; on the forefinger, adding,
'in the name of the Son;' on the second finger, repeating, 'in the name
of the Holy Ghost;' and on the third finger, ending with 'Amen,' and
there it staid."
Abelard and Heloise were not happier in their unselfish affection than
Leo and Rosie in their love. Colors on Leo's canvas now sought each other
in magic harmony. At single sittings in his studio Leo made Madonna
faces, and glowing landscapes, that evoked words of warm praise from his
fellow artists, who were blind to the secret of Leo's remarkable power.
For a Christmas present Leo brought Rosie a picture of his own of Rosie's
beautiful hand holding lilies of the valley; and while she thanked him in
sweetest words, he pinned at her throat a Florentine cameo once worn by
his mother. All these things, and more, came flashing into Leo's mind as
he struggled on the ship's deck to keep his footing in the storm.
A week before the steamer left New York Leo and Rosie had quarreled.
Leo's invitation to accompany the Harrises had come to him from Alfonso
only three days before the "Majestic's" departure, and such was his
momentary ill-humor toward Rosie that he sailed from New York without
even advising her of his new plan, or saying good-bye. Leo, alone on the
sea, often severely rebuked himself that he could have been so unkind to
the woman to whom he had given his heart and his mother's favorite bit of
jewelry.
A thousand times he wished he could ask Rosie's forgiveness, for it was
in a fit of anger that Rosie had snatched the ruby ring off her hand and
the cameo from her throat, and had thrown them into Leo's lap saying,
"Take them, Leo, you will easily find another girl to share your family
name and your poverty as an artist while I have need of wealth." Leo had
turned from Rosie's home without the power to reply, he was so taken by
surprise.
Leo was never so happy as when Rosie was present in his studio to
encourage him by word or song, but now all was changed.
Sometimes Leo in his secret thoughts feared that Rosie's beauty and
charming manner would command riches, and sometimes he dared to think
that possibly his talent and fame might command a handsome dowry. Then
his mind turned to Lucille. She was taller than Rosie, not so vivacious,
but like Rosie enjoyed a happy time. He even ventured at times to say
mentally of Lucille that "it is she or none on earth," and then as he
recalled the ring given to Rosie, the old love would assert itself and he
would shut his eyes, ashamed of an affection that was false hearted. It
was fortunate for Leo that he was a good sailor, as it enabled him to do
many thoughtful things for the Harrises, and thus show his appreciation
of their great kindness to him.
On the third day out from New York, the storm moderated somewhat and the
passengers at breakfast visibly increased in number, but before the lunch
hour was over the fury of the gale returned. The steamer in her course
had crossed the center of the cyclone where the force of the storm was
diminished for a short time only. All that afternoon and night the gale
increased in force till it seemed as if volcanic powers under the sea
were at work turning the ocean upside down.
Pent up forces in the west were loosed, and Neptune, deity of the ocean,
with his three-pronged trident stalked abroad. The bombardment of waves
was terrific, and the twin propellers raced so fiercely that speed was
reduced to a minimum.
In the morning the terrible cyclone had moved to the north, smoother
seas were reached by lunch time, and most of the tables were again
filled. Many of those who were making a first voyage also put in their
appearance, and they were subjected to much chaffing from the veterans
of ocean travel. Captain Morgan and Doctor Argyle were the recipients
of many complimentary words for their skill.
At dinner Leo and Alfonso mustered full forces, and each side scored
every point, for both Mrs. Harris and Lucille entered the dining room,
and everybody enjoyed the menu after a three days' fast. Captain Morgan
spoke of the storm as "the late unpleasantness," and hoped his friends
would not desert him again. Mrs. Harris was silent, but Alfonso and
Lucille promised loyalty for the future, and Leo said, "Captain Morgan,
I believe I haven't missed a meal."
"Bravo, Colonna!" the captain replied, "you really seem to have inherited
the sailing qualities of your great countryman Columbus, and I sincerely
hope that you may render the world equally valuable services."
Lucille added, "I am sure he will, captain; during the gale, he rendered
signal services to suffering humanity."
"To-morrow," continued Captain Morgan, "is the 21st of June, when the day
and night will be of equal length, the sun rising and setting promptly at
six o'clock."
"Why not," said Lucille, "set our watches by the steamer's chronometer,
and have the steward call us at 5:30 o'clock and all test the accuracy of
the almanac?" Mrs. Harris and several others entered heartily into the
plan.
The pure sea-air was so fresh and restful that when three bells or 5:30
o'clock in the morning was heard, the Harris party were easily awakened
and they hastily prepared to witness at sea the sunrise on June 21st.
Leo and Alfonso were first on deck. Mrs. Harris, Lucille, and the Judge,
an acquaintance made on the ship, soon joined them. Their watches agreed
that it was ten minutes to six o 'clock. The decks had been washed and
put in order, engines were running at full speed, the eastern sky was
flushed with crimson and golden bands that shot out of the horizon, and
fan-like in shape faded up in the zenith. With watches in hand, all eyes
were fixed on a pathway of intensely lighted sea and sky in the east.
Suddenly, as the sailor rung out "four bells," or 6 o'clock, Lucille
shouted, "There! See that drop of molten gold floating on the horizon.
Captain Morgan was right as to time. See, judge, how the gold glows with
heat and light as the globe turns to receive the sun's blessings!"
"Yes," said the judge who now for the first time since the storm became
really enthusiastic, "another page of the record book is turned, and the
good and bad deeds of humanity will be entered by the recording angel.
The mighty sun, around which we revolve at fabulous speed is, in its
relations to us mortals, the most important material fact in the
universe. If I ever change my religion I shall become a sun-worshiper.
The Turk in his prayers, five times a day, faces the sun."
An early brisk walk on the deck sharpened appetites, and our
sun-worshipers were among the first at breakfast. Gradually others
entered, and again the dining room was cheerful with sunny faces. After
breakfast the decks were astir with pretty women, children, and gentlemen
lifting their hats. The promenade was as gay as on Fifth Avenue. Doctor
Argyle gave his arm to Mrs. Harris, Lucille walked between Alfonso and
Leo, and doctors of divinity and men of repute in other professions kept
faithful step. Actors and actresses moved as gracefully as before the
footlights. A famous actor carried on his shoulders a tiny girl who had
bits of sky for eyes, a fair face, and fleecy hair that floated in the
sea breeze, making a pretty picture.
Business men with fragrant cigars indulged in the latest story or joke.
By degrees the promenade disappeared as passengers selected steamer
chairs, library, or smoking room, and congenial souls formed interesting
and picturesque groups. At the outset of the voyage you wonder at the
lack of fine dress, and hastily judge the modest men and women about you
to be somewhat commonplace, but after days at sea and many acquaintances
made, you discover your mistake and learn that your companions are
thoroughly cosmopolitan. In fair weather the decks are playgrounds where
children at games enliven the scene, and sailors' songs are heard.
When the old clipper ship took from four to six weeks to cross the
Atlantic, a weekly paper was printed. On some of the swift liners of
to-day on the fourth day out a paper is issued, when perhaps the steamer
is "rolling in the Roaring Forties." The sheet is a four-page affair,
about six inches wide and nine inches long. It gives a description of the
ship signed by the Captain; the daily runs of the ship follow, the
distance still to go is stated, and the probable time it will take to
make port; under "General Information" you learn about seasickness, what
you have not already experienced, the necessity of exercise aboard ship,
also much about the handling of luggage in Europe; some of the prose and
poetry is sure to be good, and is contributed by skilled writers among
the passengers. A column of "Queries" and a few brief stories and jokes
brighten the sheet. The price is fifteen cents, and every copy of "The
Ocean Breeze" is highly prized. On the whole, people at sea enjoy most
the enforced rest, for they escape newspapers, telegrams, creditors, and
the tax-gatherer.
At 11 o'clock on the deck, every pleasant day, a large, well-dressed man,
attended by his valet, generously opened a barrel of fresh oysters for
the passengers. This benevolent gentleman proved to be a famous Saratoga
gambler. In this way he made many acquaintances and friends, and each day
he increased his winnings at cards and in bets on the vessel's run, till
finally, not he, but the guileless passengers paid for the oysters.
Gambling was the business of the man who advertised by his oysters; with
the actor, who romped with the pretty child, gambling was a passion. So
intense was this passion with the actor that he would attempt to match
silver dollars or gold sovereigns with everybody he met when ashore;
between acts on the stage he would telegraph his bet to distant cities.
Crossing parks or walking down Broadway his palm concealed a coin, ready
for the first possible chance. He would match his coat or his home or
even his bank account. On ship he matched sovereigns only.
Occasionally the "Majestic" passed in sight of some other ship, or
"tramp-steamer," and by signal exchanged names and location. Rarely do
the great passenger steamers meet on the Atlantic, as the course outward
is quite to the north to avoid collisions. Half-awake, half-asleep, the
days on shipboard go by as in a dream, and you gladly welcome back
restored health. Perhaps a sweet or strong face wins your interest
or heart, as the case may be, and life-long friendships are formed.
Confidence thus bestowed often begets the same in others, and you are
thankful for the ocean voyage.