The huge hand, clenched into a fist, came down on the table. The crystal
bottle was too heavy to rock, but the glasses jingled and a spoon slid
over the edge of its saucer.
"There it is--what I was looking for."
"What were you looking for?" Chantry's wonder was not feigned.
"For your hydra-headed prejudice. Makes me want to play Hercules."
"Oh, drop your metaphors, Havelock. Get into the game. What is it?"
"It's this: that you don't think--or affect not to think--that it's
decent for a man to recognize his own worth."
Chantry did not retort. He dropped his chin on his chest and thought for
a moment. Then he spoke, very quietly and apologetically.
"Well--I don't see you telling another man how wonderful you are. It
isn't immoral, it simply isn't manners. And if Ferguson boasted to you
that he was saved when so many went down, it was worse than bad manners.
He ought to have been kicked for it. It's the kind of phenomenal luck
that it would have been decent to regret."
Havelock set his massive lips firmly together. You could not say that he
pursed that Cyclopean mouth.
"Ferguson did not boast. He merely told me. He was, I think, a modest
man."
Incredulity beyond any power of laughter to express settled on Chantry's
countenance. "Modest? And he _told_ you?"
"The whole thing." Havelock's voice was heavy enough for tragedy.
"Listen. Don't interrupt me once. Ferguson told me that, when the
explosion came, he looked round--considered, for fully a minute, his
duty. He never lost control of himself once, he said, and I believe him.
The _Argentina_ was a small boat, making a winter passage. There were
very few cabin passengers. No second cabin, but plenty of steerage. She
sailed, you remember, from Naples. He had been doing some work, some
very important work, in the Aquarium. The only other person of
consequence--I am speaking in the most literal and un-snobbish sense--in
the first cabin, was Benson. No" (with a lifted hand), "_don't interrupt
me_. Benson, as we all know, was an international figure. But Benson was
getting old. His son could be trusted to carry on the House of Benson.
In fact, every one suspected that the son had become more important than
the old man. He had put through the last big loan while his father was
taking a rest-cure in Italy. That is how Benson _père_ happened to be on
the _Argentina_. The newspapers never sufficiently accounted for that. A
private deck on the _Schrecklichkeit_ would have been more his size.
Ferguson made it out: the old man got wild, suddenly, at the notion of
their putting anything through without him. He trusted his gouty bones
to the _Argentina_."
"Sounds plausible, but--" Chantry broke in.
"If you interrupt again," said Havelock, "I'll hit you, with all the
strength I've got."
Chantry grunted. You had to take Havelock the Dane as you found him.
"Ferguson saw the whole thing clear. Old Benson had just gone into the
smoking-room. Ferguson was on the deck outside his own stateroom. The
only person on board who could possibly be considered as important as
Ferguson was Benson; and he had good reason to believe that every one
would get on well enough without Benson. He had just time, then, to put
on a life-preserver, melt into his stateroom, and get a little pile of
notes, very important ones, and drop into a boat. No, don't interrupt. I
know what you are going to say. 'Women and children.' What do you
suppose a lot of Neapolitan peasants meant to Ferguson--or to you and
me, either? He didn't do anything outrageous; he just dropped into a
boat. As a result, we had the big book a year later. No" (again
crushing down a gesture of Chantry's), "don't say anything about the
instincts of a gentleman. If Ferguson hadn't been perfectly cool, his
instincts would have governed him. He would have dashed about trying to
save people, and then met the waves with a noble gesture. He had time to
be reasonable; not instinctive. The world was the gainer, as he jolly
well knew it would be--or where would have been the reasonableness? I
don't believe Ferguson cared a hang about keeping his individual machine
going for its own sake. But he knew he was a valuable person. His mind
was a Kohinoor among minds. It stands to reason that you save the
Kohinoor and let the little stones go. Well, that's not the story. Only
I wanted to get that out of the way first, or the story wouldn't have
meant anything. Did you wish," he finished graciously, "to ask a
question?"
Chantry made a violent gesture of denial. "Ask a question about a hog
like that? God forbid!"
"Um-m-m." Havelock seemed to muse within himself. "You will admit that
if a jury of impartial men of sense could have sat, just then, on that
slanting deck, they would have agreed that Ferguson's life was worth
more to the world than all the rest of the boiling put together?"
"Yes, but--"
"Well, there wasn't any jury. Ferguson had to be it. I am perfectly sure
that if there had been a super-Ferguson on board, our Ferguson would
have turned his hand to saving him first. In fact, I honestly believe he
was sorry there hadn't been a super-Ferguson. For he had all the
instincts of a gentleman; and it's never a pleasant job making your
reason inhibit your instincts. You can't look at this thing perfectly
straight, probably. But if you can't, who can? I don't happen to want an
enlightened opinion; I've got one, right here at home. You don't care
about the State: you want to put it into white petticoats and see it
cross a muddy street."
"I don't wonder the socialists won't have anything to do with you."
"Because I'm not a feminist? I know. Just as the feminists won't have
anything to do with you because you're so reactionary. We're both out of
it. Fifty years ago; either of us could have been a real prophet, for
the price of a hall and cleaning the rotten eggs off our clothes. Now
we're too timid for any use. But this is a digression."
"Distinctly. Is there anything more about Ferguson?"
"I should say there was. About a year ago, he became engaged. She's a
very nice girl, and I am sure you never heard of her. The engagement
wasn't to be announced until just before the marriage, for family
reasons of some sort--cockering the older generation somehow. I've
forgotten; it's not important. But they would have been married by now,
if Ferguson hadn't stepped out."
"You seem to have been very intimate with Ferguson."
"He talked to me once--just once. The girl was a distant connection of
my own. I think that was why. Now I've got some more things to tell you.
I've let you interrupt a good lot, and if you're through, I'd like to
start in on the next lap. It isn't easy for me to tell this thing in
bits. It's an effort."
Havelock the Dane set down his second emptied glass and drew a long
breath. He proceeded, with quickened pace.