The shouting of those three syllables was like the utterance of a
talismanic word in an Arabian legend. It cleft the spell of inactivity
which hung over officers and crew as the sweep of a scimitar cuts
through the web of enchantment. The silence was immediately broken
by the agitated snorting of a pony-engine, and the rattle of the
anchor-chain coming up. Then the melodious jingling of bells down below
told the engineer to “stand by.” As the snort of the engine and the
rattle of the chain ceased, the crew mustered forward and began to
stow the anchor. Another jingle below, and then began the pulsating of
the engines, while the sharp prow of the yacht seemed slowly to brush
aside the distant hills and set them moving. To a seasoned traveller
like myself there is something stimulating in the first throb of an
engine aboard ship. It means new scenes and fresh experiences. Farewell
Nagasaki and starvation; yes, and sometimes despair. Yet I had a warm
corner in my heart for the old commercial city, with its queer little
picturesque inhabitants, whose keen eye for business was nevertheless
frequently softened by sentiment.
The man whose sharply uttered words had called up commotion out of the
stillness sank somewhat listlessly into his customary armchair, and
put his feet, crossed, on the rail. There was something in his attitude
that warned me he did not wish his privacy intruded upon, so I leaned
over the opposite rail and steadfastly regarded the receding city. The
big yacht moved smoothly and swiftly over the waters of Nagasaki Bay,
which at that moment glittered dazzlingly in the sunlight. The craft
was evidently well engined, for the vibration was scarcely perceptible,
and somehow it gave one the consciousness that there was a reserve of
power which might be called upon in a pinch. Once clear of Nagasaki
Bay the captain laid her course due west, as if we were to race the
declining sun. I surmised that a safe rather than a quick voyage was
his object, and that he intended to strike through the Yellow Sea and
avoid threading the mazes of the Corean Archipelago.
Long before the gong sounded for dinner we were out of sight of land.
As I went down the companion stairs I must admit that I looked forward
to the meal with some degree of apprehension, hoping the atmosphere
would be less electric than during luncheon. I need have harboured no
fear; Mr. Hemster, the captain, and myself sat down, but the ladies
did not appear during the meal. Mr. Hemster had little to say, but the
jovial captain told some excellent stories, which to his amazement and
delight I laughed at, for he had a theory that no Englishman could
see the point of any yarn that ever was spun. Mr. Hemster never once
smiled; probably he had heard the stories before, and in the middle
of dinner (such seemed to be the captain’s impolite habit) the
story-teller rose and left us. He paused with his foot on the first
step, as he had done before, turned to the owner, and said:
“No particular hurry about reaching Corea, is there?”
“Why?” asked Hemster shortly.
“Well, you see, sir, I don’t want to run down and sink one of
them there little islands in the Archipelago, and have a suit for
damages against me; so, unless you’re in a hurry I propose to run
a couple of hundred miles west, and then north this side of the
hundred-and-twenty-fifth meridian.”
“Washington or Greenwich?” asked the owner.
“Well, sir,” said the captain with a smile, “I’m not particular, so
long as there’s a clear way ahead of me. I once sailed with a Dutchman
who worked on the meridian of Ferro, which is the westernmost point
of the Canary Islands. When I am in home waters of course I work by
Washington, but the charts I’ve got for this region is Greenwich, and
so I say the hundred-and-twenty-fifth.”
“That’s all right,” replied Hemster seriously. “I thought you were too
patriotic a man to use any meridian but our own, and then I thought
you were so polite you were using Greenwich out of compliment to Mr.
Tremorne here. You pick out the meridian that has the fewest islands
along it and fewest big waves, and you’ll satisfy me.”
The owner said all this quite seriously, and I perceived he had a sense
of humour which at first I had not given him credit for.
The captain laughed good-naturedly and disappeared. Mr. Hemster and
I finished our dinner together in silence, then went on deck and
had coffee and cigars. Although he proffered wine and liqueurs he
never drank any spirits himself. I was able to help him out in that
direction, as he once drily remarked.
It was one of the most beautiful evenings I had ever witnessed. There
was no breeze except the gentle current caused by the motion of the
yacht. The sea was like glass, and as night fell the moon rose nearly
at the full. Mr. Hemster retired early, as I afterward learned was his
custom, but whether to work in his office or to sleep in his bed I
never knew. He seemed to have no amusement except the eternal rolling
of the unlit cigar in his lips. Although there was a good library on
board I never saw him open a book or display the slightest interest in
anything pertaining to literature, science, or art. This is a strange
world, and in spite of his undoubted wealth I experienced a feeling of
pity for him, and I have not the slightest doubt he entertained the
same feeling toward me.
I went forward after my employer left me, and asked the captain if
outsiders were permitted on the bridge, receiving from him a cordial
invitation to ascend. He had a wooden chair up there in which he sat,
tilted back against the after rail of the bridge, while his crossed
feet were elevated on the forward one, and in this free and easy
attitude was running the ship. Of course there was nothing calling
for exceeding vigilance, because the great watery plain, bounded by
the far-off, indistinct horizon, was absolutely empty, and the yacht
jogged along at an easy pace, which, as I have said, gave one the
impression that much power was held in reserve. I sat on the forward
rail opposite him, and listened to his stories, which were often quaint
and always good. He had been a fisherman on the banks of Newfoundland
in his early days, and his droll characterization of the men he had
met were delicious to listen to. From the very first day I admired the
captain, whose name I never learned, and this admiration increased the
more I knew of him. I often wonder if he is still following the sea,
and indeed I can never imagine him doing anything else. He was able,
efficient, and resourceful; as capable a man as it was ever my fortune
to meet.
My interest in the captain’s stories came to an abrupt conclusion when
I saw a lady emerge from the companion-way, look anxiously around for
a moment, and then begin a slow promenade up and down the after deck.
I bade good-night to the captain, and descended from the bridge. The
lady paused as she saw me approach, and I thought for a moment she was
about to retreat. But she did not do so. I had determined to speak
to Miss Hemster on the first opportunity as if nothing had occurred.
Ill-will is bad enough in any case, but nowhere is it more deplorable
than on shipboard, because people have no escape from one another
there. I was resolved that so far as I was concerned there should
not be a continuance of the estrangement, which must affect more or
less each one in our company, unless it was the captain, who seemed a
true philosopher, taking whatever came with equal nonchalance. As I
neared the lady, however, I saw she was not Gertrude Hemster, but Hilda
Stretton.
“It is a lovely evening, Miss Stretton,” I ventured to say, “and I am
glad to see you on deck to enjoy it.”
“I came up for a breath of fresh air,” she replied simply, with no
enthusiasm for the loveliness of the night, which I had just been
extolling. I surmised instinctively that she preferred to be alone, and
was inwardly aware that the correct thing for me to do was to raise my
yachting-cap and pass on, for she had evidently come to a standstill
in her promenade, to give me no excuse for joining it. But, whether
or not it was the glamour of the moonlight, her face was much more
attractive than it had seemed when, for the first time, I had had a
glimpse of it, and, be that as it may, I say this in excuse for my
persistence. When has a young man ever been driven from his purpose by
the unresponsiveness of the lady he is bold enough to address?
“If you do not mind, Miss Stretton, I should be very much gratified if
you would allow me to join your evening saunter.”
“The deck belongs as much to you as it does to me,” was her cold
rejoinder, “and I think I should tell you I am but the paid servant of
its actual owner.”
I laughed, more to chase away her evident embarrassment than because
there was anything really to laugh about. I have noticed that a laugh
sometimes drives away restraint. It is the most useful of human
ejaculations, and often succeeds where words would fail.
“A warning in exchange for your warning!” I exclaimed as cheerfully as
I could. “I, too, am a paid servant of the owner of this yacht.”
“I did not expect to hear the cousin of Lord Tremorne admit as much,”
she replied, thawing somewhat.
“Well, you have just heard the cousin of his lordship do so, and I may
add on behalf of Lord Tremorne that if he were in my place I know his
candour would compel him to say the same thing.”
“Englishmen think themselves very honest, do they not?” she commented,
somewhat ungraciously, it seemed to me, for after all I was trying
to make conversation, always a difficult task when there is veiled
opposition.
“Oh, some Englishmen are honest, and some are not, as is the case with
other nationalities. I don’t suppose a dishonest Englishman would
have any delusions about the matter, and perhaps if you pressed him
he would admit his delinquency. I hope you are not prejudiced against
us as a nation; and, if you are, I sincerely trust you will not allow
any impression you may have acquired regarding myself to deepen that
prejudice, because I am far from being a representative Englishman.”
We were now walking up and down the deck together, but her next remark
brought me to an amazed standstill.
“If you possess the candour with which you have just accredited
yourself and your people, you would have said that you hoped I was
not prejudiced against your nation, but you were certain, if such
unfortunately was the case, the charm of your manner and the delight
of your conversation would speedily remove it.”
“Good gracious, Miss Stretton,” I cried, “do you take me for a
conceited ass?”
The lady condescended to laugh a little, very low and very sweetly, but
it was an undeniable laugh, and so I was grateful for it.
“You mistake me,” she said. “I took you for a superior person, that was
all, and I think superior persons sometimes make mistakes.”
“What mistake have I fallen into, if you will be so good as to tell me?”
“Well, as a beginning, Mr. Tremorne, I think that if I was an English
lady you would not venture to accost me as you have done to-night,
without a proper introduction.”
“I beg your pardon. I considered myself introduced to you by Miss
Hemster to-day at luncheon; and if our host had not so regarded it, I
imagine he would have remedied the deficiency.”
“Mr. Hemster, with a delicacy which I regret to say seems to be
unappreciated, knowing me to be a servant in his employ, did not put
upon me the embarrassment of an introduction.”
“Really, Miss Stretton, I find myself compelled to talk to you rather
seriously,” said I, with perhaps a regrettable trace of anger in my
voice. “You show yourself to be an extremely ignorant young woman.”
Again she laughed very quietly.
“Oh!” she cried, with an exultation that had hitherto been absent from
her conversation; “the veneer is coming off, and the native Englishman
stands revealed in the moonlight.”
“You are quite right, the veneer is coming off. And now, if you have
the courage of your statements, you will hear the truth about them. On
the other hand, if you like to say sharp things and then run away from
the consequences, there is the saloon, or there is the other side of
the deck. Take your choice.”
“I shall borrow a piece of English brag and say I am no coward. Go on.”
“Very well. I came down from the bridge after a most friendly and
delightful talk with the captain, having no other thought in my mind
than to make myself an agreeable comrade to you when I saw you on deck.”
“That was a very disingenuous beginning for a truthful lecture, Mr.
Tremorne. When you saw me, you thought it was Miss Hemster, and you
found out too late that it was I; so you approached me with the most
polite and artful covering of your disappointment.”
We were walking up and down the deck again, and took one or two turns
before I spoke once more.
“Yes, Miss Stretton, you are demoniacally right. I shall amend the
beginning of my lecture, then, by alluding to an incident which I
did not expect to touch upon. At luncheon Miss Hemster received my
greeting with what seemed to me unnecessary insolence. We are to be
housed together for some time aboard this yacht; therefore I came down
to greet her as if the incident to which I have alluded had not taken
place.”
“How very good of you!” said Miss Stretton sarcastically.
“Madam, I quite agree with you. Now we will turn to some of your own
remarks, if you don’t mind. In the first place, you said I would not
address an English lady to whom I had not been properly introduced. In
that statement you were entirely wrong. Five years ago, on an Atlantic
liner, I, without having been introduced, asked the Countess of
Bayswater to walk the deck with me, and she graciously consented. Some
time after that, the deck steward being absent, her Grace the Duchess
of Pentonville, without a formal introduction to me, asked me to tuck
her up in her steamer chair; then she requested me to sit down beside
her, which I did, and we entered into the beginning of a very pleasant
acquaintance which lasted during the voyage.”
“Dear me!” said Miss Stretton, evidently unimpressed, “how fond you are
of citing members of the nobility!”
“Many of them are, or have been, friends of my own; so why should I not
cite them? However, my object was entirely different. If I had said
that Mrs. Jones or Mrs. Smith were the people in question, you might
very well have doubted that they were ladies, and so my illustration
would have fallen to the ground. You said English ladies, and I have
given you the names of two who are undoubtedly ladies, and undoubtedly
English, for neither of them is an American who has married a member of
our nobility.”
If ever fire flashed from a woman’s eyes, it was upon this occasion.
Miss Stretton’s face seemed transformed with anger.
“Sir!” she flashed, “that last remark was an insult to my countrywomen,
and was intended as such. I bid you good-night, and I ask you never to
speak to me again.”
“Exactly as I thought,” said I; “the moment shells begin to fly, you
beat a retreat.”
Miss Stretton had taken five indignant steps toward the companion-way
when my words brought her to a standstill. After a momentary pause
she turned around with a proud motion of her figure which elicited my
utmost admiration, walked back to my side, and said very quietly:
“Pardon me; pray proceed.”
“I shall not proceed, but shall take the liberty of pausing for a
moment to show you the futility of jumping to a conclusion. Now, try
to comprehend. You said, _English_ ladies. My illustration would have
been useless if the Countess and the Duchess had been Americans. Do you
comprehend that, or are you too angry?”
I waited for a reply but none came.
“Let me tell you further,” I went on, “that I know several American
women who possess titles; and if any man in my presence dared to hint
that one or other of them was not a lady I should knock him down if
I could, and if no one but men were about. So you see I was throwing
no disparagement on your countrywomen, but was merely clenching my
argument on the lines you yourself had laid down.”
“I see; I apologize. Pray go on with the lecture.”
“Thank you for the permission, and on your part please forgive any
unnecessary vehemence which I have imported into what should be a calm
philosophical pronouncement. When you accuse an Englishman of violating
some rule of etiquette, he is prone to resent such an imputation,
partly because he has an uneasy feeling that it may be true. He
himself admits that nearly every other nation excels his in the arts
of politeness. It is really not at all to his discredit that he fondly
hopes he has qualities of heart and innate courtesy which perhaps
may partly make up for his deficiency in outward suavity of manner.
Now, madam, etiquette is elastic. It is not an exact science, like
mathematics. The rules pertaining to decimal fractions are the same the
world over, but the etiquette of the Court differs from the etiquette
of the drawing-room, and dry-land etiquette differs from the etiquette
on board ship.”
“I don’t see why it should,” interrupted Miss Stretton.
“Then, madam, it shall be my privilege to explain. Imagine us cast on
a desert shore. If, for instance, our captain were less worthy than he
is, and ran us on the rocks of Quelpaerd Island, which is some distance
ahead of us, you would find that all etiquette would disappear.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because we should each have to turn around and mutually help
the others. Whether I had been introduced to you or not, I should
certainly endeavour to provide you with food and shelter; whereas if
I contracted one of the island’s justly celebrated fevers, your good
heart would prompt you to do what you could for my restoration. Now
a ship is but a stepping-stone between the mainland of civilization
and the desert island of barbarism. This fact, unconsciously or
consciously, seems to be recognized, and so the rules of etiquette on
board ship relax, and I maintain, with the brutal insistance of my
race, that I have not infringed upon them.”
“I think that is a very capital and convincing illustration, Mr.
Tremorne,” confessed the lady generously.
Now, look you, how vain a creature is man. That remark sent a glow of
satisfaction through my being such as I had not experienced since a
speech of my youth was applauded by my fellow-students at the Union in
Oxford. Nevertheless, I proceeded stubbornly with my lecture, which I
had not yet finished.
“Now, madam, I am going to give you the opportunity to charge me with
inconsistency. I strenuously object to the application of the term
‘servant’ as applied to yourself or to me. I am not a servant.”
“But, Mr. Tremorne, you admitted it a while ago, and furthermore said
that your distinguished cousin would also have confessed as much if in
your place.”
“I know I said so; but that was before the veneer fell away.”
“Then what becomes of the candour of which you boasted? Has it gone
with the veneer?”
“They are keeping each other company on the ocean some miles behind
us. I have thrown them overboard.”
Miss Stretton laughed with rather more of heartiness than she had yet
exhibited.
“Well, I declare,” she cried; “this is a transformation scene, all in
the moonlight!”
“No, I am not Mr. Hemster’s servant. Mr. Hemster desires to use my
knowledge of the Eastern languages and my experience in Oriental
diplomacy. For this he has engaged to pay, but I am no more his servant
than Sir Edward Clark is a menial to the client who pays him for the
knowledge he possesses; and, if you will permit me the English brag,
which you utilized a little while since, I say I am a gentleman and
therefore the equal of Mr. Silas K. Hemster, or any one else.”
“You mean superior, and not equal.”
“Madam, with all due respect, I mean nothing of the sort.”
“Nevertheless, that is what is in your mind and in your manner. By the
way, is your lecture completed?”
“Yes, entirely so. It is your innings now. You have the floor, or the
deck rather.”
“Then I should like to say that Silas K. Hemster, as you call him, is
one of the truest gentlemen that ever lived.”
“Isn’t that his name?”
“You were perfectly accurate in naming him, but you were certainly
supercilious in the tone in which you named him.”
“Oh, I say!”
“No, you don’t; it is _my_ say, if you please.”
“Certainly, certainly; but at first you try to make me out a conceited
ass, and now you endeavour to show that I am an irredeemable cad. I
have the utmost respect for Mr. Hemster.”
“Have you? Well, I am very glad to hear it, and I wish to give you a
firmer basis for that opinion than you have been able to form from
your own observation. Mr. Hemster may not be learned in books, but he
is learned in human nature. He is the best of men, kind, considerate,
and always just. He was a lifelong friend of my father, now, alas, no
more in life. They were schoolboys together. It was inevitable that
Mr. Hemster should become very wealthy, and equally inevitable that my
father should remain poor. My father was a dreamy scholar, and I think
you will admit that he was a gentleman, for he was a clergyman of the
Episcopal Church. He was not of the money-making order of men, and,
if he had been, his profession would have precluded him from becoming
what Mr. Hemster is. Although Mr. Hemster grew very rich, it never in
the least interfered with his friendship for my father nor with his
generosity to my father’s child. If I cared to accept that generosity
it would be unstinted. As it is, he pays me much more than I am worth.
He is simple and honest, patient and kind. Patient and kind,” she
repeated, with a little tremor of the voice that for a moment checked
her utterance,--“a true gentleman, if ever there was one.”
“My dear Miss Stretton,” I said, “what you say of him is greatly to
the credit of both yourself and Mr. Hemster; but it distresses me that
you should intimate that I have failed to appreciate him. He has picked
me up, as I might say, from the gutters of Nagasaki without even a line
of recommendation or so much as a note of introduction.”
“That is what I said to you; he is a judge of men rather than of
literature and the arts; and it is entirely to your credit that he has
taken you without credentials. You may be sure, were it otherwise,
I should not have spent so much time with you as I have done this
evening. But his quick choice should have given you a better insight
into his character than that which you possess?”
“There you go again, Miss Stretton. What have I said or done which
leads you to suppose I do not regard Mr. Hemster with the utmost
respect?”
“It is something exceedingly difficult to define. It cannot be set down
as lucidly as your exposition of etiquette. It was your air, rather
than your manner at luncheon time. It was a very distant and exalted
air, which said as plainly as words that you sat down with a company
inferior to yourself.”
I could not help laughing aloud; the explanation was absolutely absurd.
“Why, my dear Miss Stretton, if I may call you so, you never even
glanced at me during luncheon time; how, then, did you get such
extraordinary notions into your head?”
“One did not need to glance at you to learn what I have stated. Now,
during our conversation you have been frightened--no, that is not the
word--you have been surprised--into a verbal honesty that has been
unusual to you. Please make the confession complete, and admit that in
your own mind you have not done justice to Mr. Hemster.”
“Miss Stretton, the word you have been searching for is ‘bluff.’ I have
been bluffed into confessions, before now, which in my calmer moments
I regretted. You see I have been in America myself, and ‘bluff’ is
an exceedingly expressive word. And, madam, permit me to say that in
this instance the bluff will not work. You cannot get me to admit that
either by look or tone I think anything but what is admirable of Mr.
Hemster.”
“Oh, dear, oh, dear!” cried the girl in mock despair. It was really
wonderful how unconsciously friendly she had become after our
tempestuous discussion. “Oh, dear, oh, dear! how you are fallen from
the state of generous exaltation that distinguished you but a short
time ago. Please search the innermost recesses of your mind, and tell
me if you do not find there something remotely resembling contempt for
a man who accepted you--appalling thought!--without even a note of
introduction.”
“Very well, my lady, I shall make the search you recommend. Now we will
walk quietly up and down the deck without a word being said by either
of us, and during that time I shall explore those recesses of my mind,
which no doubt you regard as veritable ‘chambers of horrors.’”
We walked together under the bridge, and then to the very stern of the
ship, coming back to the bridge again. As we turned, the lady by my
side broke the contract.
“Oh!” she cried with a little gasp, “there is Miss Hemster!”--and I saw
the lady she mentioned emerge from the companion-way to the deck.
“Damnation!” I muttered, under my breath, forgetting for an instant in
whose presence I stood, until she turned her face full upon me.
“I--I beg your pardon most sincerely,” I stammered.
“And I grant it with equal sincerity,” she whispered, with a slight
laugh, which struck me as rather remarkable, for she had previously
become deeply offended at sayings much milder than my surprised
ejaculation.