GIBRALTAR
EARLY on the morning of their steamship's first landing during the
voyage, Jack came up on deck. She had asked Olive to come with her, but
she was at the moment engaged in writing to Miss Winthrop at Primrose
Hall, who had become more like her mother than a friend. She promised to
join her room-mate in a few moments.
It was an ideal morning, and Jack hoped to have a long look at the sea
before the other passengers were about to distract her with
conversation. In a short while their steamer was due to pass Cape
Trafalgar, where Lord Nelson won his famous victory over the French and
Spanish in 1805, and from then on every traveler aboard, except the ill
ones, would be crowding about the ship's railing for the best views.
Jack felt wonderfully well. Only a few days more than a week at sea, and
how much she had already improved! Not since the winter at the ranch
when she was sixteen had she felt so vigorous and had such joy in
living. Surely before their trip was over she would be her old self
again. And if this part of their journey had been so unusually
interesting, what would their trip through Italy mean, with Switzerland
and England to follow in May?
"How much of my young heart, O Spain,
Went out to thee in days of yore,
What dreams romantic filled my brain
And summoned back to life again
The paladins of Charlemagne,
The Cid Campeador."
Jack laughed, recognizing the speaker's voice at once.
"I am the wrong person to be quoting poetry to, Captain Madden," she
replied, scarcely turning her head. "I told you the other day that Jean
and Olive are the literary members of our family. I hardly ever used to
read a book, except now and then my school ones, until my accident. Then
I took to reading from necessity. I am not in the least clever or
romantic, and reading has so often seemed to me like finding out things
second-hand. I am afraid I really want to _do_ the exciting things
myself."
Jack was hardly looking or thinking of her audience as she talked. One
of the nicest things about their new acquaintance was that one was able
to say almost anything to him and he would understand. She was feeling
curiously gay this morning, as though something of unusual importance
was about to happen to her. Of course it was the thought of their first
leaving the steamer after nine days of ocean travel. Nevertheless, Jack
had dressed with unusual care, not intending to make another toilet
before going ashore. Instead of her usual brown steamer coat she was
wearing a long, heavy white woolen one, with a soft white hat trimmed in
a single feather curling close around the crown. And under the brim her
hair was pure bronze in the sunlight and all the old color of the ranch
days had this morning come back into her cheeks.
"I am only quoting guide-book poetry," Captain Madden explained, after a
moment's admiring glance at his young companion.
Suddenly Jack ceased gazing over the water to look at him. "Captain
Madden," she asked with the directness which some persons liked and
others disliked in her, "you told us once that you were a British army
officer, didn't you? Then would you mind explaining why when you are to
show us over the English fort at Gibraltar today, you are not wearing an
English officer's uniform?"
If for the fraction of a second there was a slight hesitation before
Captain Madden's reply Jack failed to notice it.
"I am very glad you asked me that question, Miss Ralston," he answered,
coming to the edge of the ship's railing and leaning one arm upon it as
he talked. "I am afraid I have been sailing under false colors with you
and the other members of your little party. I simply meant you to
understand that I was at one time a member of the British army. Several
years ago I resigned my commission. Else, my dear young lady, how do you
suppose I could have attempted to run a ranch in your west and been
permitted to fight with the Mexicans on the losing side? I am a soldier
of fortune or misfortune, whichever way you may choose to put it."
The older man spoke half in jest, but Jacqueline Ralston stared at him
in a more critical fashion than she ever had before. Could she have been
making a hero in her mind of a man who was no hero at all?
"But I can't understand how a man who has once been in the army could
stop being," she remarked slowly.
Her companion shook his head. "No, of course you rich Americans can't
understand," he replied. "The fact of the matter was that I did not have
money enough to keep up my position. Though I can hardly expect a young
American girl with a gold mine at her disposal to realize what a lack of
money means."
Jack moved her shoulders impatiently, letting her clear gray eyes rest
for the moment upon her companion's profile. He looked a soldier every
inch of him and a brave man. Yet what could his confession mean?
"I haven't been a rich American girl always, Captain Madden," she
returned. "And I don't know why you think I am one now. But a lack of
money would never have made me give up my profession if I cared for it."
It was perfectly self-evident that Jack was feeling a sense of
disappointment in her companion. Although they had only known one
another for a week, and Captain Madden was so much older, intimacies
develop more rapidly aboard ship than anywhere else in the world,
except perhaps on a desert island. Jack suddenly realized that she had
been giving more thought to her companion's history than there was any
reason for doing.
She looked back over her shoulder. Numbers of persons with field glasses
in their hands were coming on to the deck.
"Miss Drew and the girls will soon be joining us," she suggested,
meaning for Captain Madden to understand that she no longer wished to
discuss his personal affairs. "I must go and search for them if they
don't come at once. I think I can already see the point of Cape
Trafalgar. In a short time we must be entering the Straits of
Gibraltar."
The next second Jack started to move away, but a glance from the man at
her side held her. It was curious that she, who had never yielded to any
one in her life except of her own will, should feel his influence.
"You are only a young girl and I am possibly twice your age," Captain
Madden began, "yet our acquaintance aboard ship has been so pleasant
that I do not wish to have you misunderstand me. There were other
reasons for my leaving the British army, but you may believe this to be
the chief one: I am not a good soldier in times of peace. When the Boer
war was over, I wanted to be where there was still fighting to be done.
My country was weary of war and so I joined the Russians in their war
with Japan."
Jack shyly extended her hand. "That is all right, Captain Madden," she
replied. "I know Ruth and Olive think it dreadful for me to be
interested in fighting. Of course I hope there may never be any more
great wars, but--" and here Jack laughed at herself, "to save my life I
can't help being interested in battles and heroes who fight on against
losing odds. I had a grandfather who was a general in the Confederate
army."
And Jack, resting her chin on her hand with her elbow on the balustrade,
gazed out to sea, apparently satisfied. Indeed, she was so vitally
interested in the view before her that she hardly heard Captain Madden
add:
"If your friend, Frank Kent, should ever offer you any other reason for
my resignation--" But at this instant Ruth Drew and Olive appeared
between them, and Ruth slipped her arm through Jack's. At once Captain
Madden stepped aside, surrendering his place to Olive.
It was odd, but as Ruth approached Jack and her companion, for just a
passing moment an uncomfortable impression entered her mind. Jack and
Captain Madden did seem to be talking together like intimate friends.
Perhaps Jean had been justified in her grumbling. Nevertheless, Captain
Madden was twice Jack's age, and why should they not be friends? It was
as absurd to feel uneasy over them as over Frieda and her chocolate-drop
boy.
And hearing Frieda's laugh behind her, the next second, Ruth turned
around with a smothered sigh of relief. Here came Frieda in her crimson
coat and hat with Dick Grant at her side holding the inevitable box of
candy in his hand. Following them were Jean and her Princess.
They were just in time, because the Martha Washington was at this moment
entering the Straits of Gibraltar. To the right there loomed, like a
gray mirage in the background, the Mountain of the Apes in Africa. And
there, directly ahead, was the historic Rock of Gibraltar.
"Isn't it thrilling to have reached a foreign country at last!" Jack
exclaimed, turning again to her first companion. But on her other side
Frieda pulled at her coat sleeve impatiently.
"If you are going into raptures over everything you see while we are
abroad, I don't know what is to become of you, Jacqueline Ralston!" she
argued. "Of course the Rock of Gibraltar is fairly large, but I have
seen almost as big stones in Wyoming. Have a piece of candy."
And when everybody in the little company laughed, Frieda would have been
offended if she had not already grown accustomed to starting just such
foolish attacks of laughter. What had she said that was in the least
amusing, when she had just made a plain statement of fact? For how could
she possibly have guessed how her point of view typified that of many
American travelers?