THE INFATUATION OF ENGLISH JIM
It was perhaps hardly wise of Geoffrey Thurston to suddenly promote
English Jim from the position of camp cook to that of amanuensis.
Geoffrey, however, found himself hard pressed when it became necessary
to divide his time between Vancouver and the scene of practical
operations, and he remembered that the man he had promoted had been
Helen's _protege_. James Gillow was a fair draughtsman, also, and, if
not remarkable otherwise for mental capacity, wielded a facile pen, and
Geoffrey found it a relief to turn his rapidly-increasing
correspondence over to him. It was for this reason Gillow accompanied
him on a business trip to Victoria.
English Jim enjoyed the visit, the more so because he found one or two
acquaintances who had achieved some degree of prosperity in that fair
city. He was entertained so well that on the morning of Geoffrey's
return he boarded the steamer contented with himself and the world in
general. He was perfectly sober, so he afterwards decided, or on board
a rolling vessel he could never have succeeded in working out
quantities from rough sketches Thurston gave him. But he had
breakfasted with his friends, just before sailing, and the valedictory
potations had increased, instead of assuaging, his thirst.
The steamer was a fast one. The day was pleasant with the first warmth
of Spring, and Geoffrey sat under the lee of a deckhouse languidly
enjoying a cigar and looking out across the sparkling sea. Gillow, who
came up now and then for a breath of air, envied him each time he
returned to pore over papers that rose and fell perplexingly on one end
of the saloon table. It was hard to get his scale exactly on the lines
of the drawings; the sunrays that beat in through the skylights dazzled
his eyes, and his sight did not become much keener after each visit to
the bar. Nevertheless, few persons would have suspected English Jim of
alcoholic indulgence as he jotted down weights and quantities in his
pocket-book.
Meantime, Thurston began to find the view of the snow-clad Olympians
grow monotonous. It is true that every pinnacle was silhouetted, a
spire of unsullied whiteness, against softest azure. The peaks
towered, a sight to entrance the vision--ethereally majestic above a
cerulean sea--but Geoffrey had seen rather too much snow unpleasantly
close at hand within the last few months. Therefore, he opened the
newspaper beside him, and frowned to see certain rumors he had heard in
Victoria embodied in an article on the Crown lands policy. Anyone with
sufficient knowledge to read between the lines could identify the
writer's instances of how gross injustice might be done the community
with certain conditional grants made to Savine.
"That man has been well posted. He may have been influenced by a
mistaken public spirit or quite possibly by a less praiseworthy motive;
but if we have any more bad breakdowns I can foresee trouble," Geoffrey
said to himself.
Then he turned his eyes towards the groups of passengers, and presently
started at the sight of a lady carrying a camp chair, a book, and a
bundle of wrappings along the heaving deck. It was Millicent Leslie,
and there was no doubt that she had recognized him, for she had set
down her burden and was waiting for his assistance. Geoffrey was at
her side in a moment and presently ensconced her snugly under the lee
of the deckhouse, where he waited, by no means wholly pleased at the
meeting. He had spent most of the previous night with certain men
interested in finance and provincial politics, and being new to the
gentle art of wire-pulling had not quite recovered his serenity. He
regretted the good cigar he had thrown away, and scarcely felt equal to
sustaining the semi-sentimental trend of conversation Millicent had
affected whenever he met her, but she was alone, and cut off all hope
of escape by saying:
"You will not desert me. One never feels solitude so much as when left
to one's own resources among a crowd of strangers."
"Certainly not, if you can put up with my company; but where is your
husband?" Geoffrey responded. Millicent looked up at him with a
chastened expression.
"Enjoying himself. Some gentlemen, whose good-will is worth gaining,
asked him to go inland for a few days' fishing, and he said it was
necessary he should accept the invitation. Accordingly, I am as usual
left to my own company while I make a solitary journey down the Sound.
It is hardly pleasant, but I suppose all men are much the same, and we
poor women must not complain."
Millicent managed to convey a great deal more than she said, and her
sigh suggested that she often suffered keenly from loneliness; but
while Geoffrey felt sorry for her, he was occupied by another thought
just then, and did not at first answer.
"What are you puzzling over, Geoffrey?" she asked, and the man smiled
as he answered:
"I was wondering if the same errand which took your husband to
Victoria, was the same that sent me there."
"I cannot say." Millicent's gesture betokened weariness. "I know
nothing of my husband's business, and must do him the justice to say
that he seldom troubles me about it. I have little taste for details
of intricate financial scheming, but practical operations, like your
task among the mountains, would appeal to me. It must be both romantic
and inspiring to pit one's self against the rude forces of Nature; but
one grows tired of the prosaic struggle which is fought by eating one's
enemies' dinners and patiently bearing the slights of lukewarm allies'
wives. However, since the fear of poverty is always before me, I try
to play my part in it."
Helen Savine had erred strangely when she concluded that Geoffrey
Thurston was without sympathy. Hard and painfully blunt as he could
be, he was nevertheless compassionate towards women, though not always
happy in expressing his feelings, and when Millicent folded her slender
hands with a pathetic sigh, he was moved to sincere pity and
indignation. He knew that some of the worthy Colonials' wives and
daughters could be, on occasion, almost brutally frank, and that, in
spite of his efforts, Leslie was not wholly popular.
"I can quite understand! It must be a trying life for you, but there
are always chances for an enterprising man in this country, and you
must hope that your husband will shortly raise you above the necessity
of enduring uncongenial social relations."
"Please don't think I am complaining." Millicent read his sympathy in
his eyes. "It was only because you looked so kind that I spoke so
frankly. I fear that I have grown morbid and said too much. But
one-sided confidence is hardly fair, and, to change the subject, tell
me how fortune favors you."
"Where shall I begin?"
Millicent smiled, as most men would have fancied, bewitchingly.
"You need not be bashful. Tell me about your adventures in the
mountains, with all the hairbreadth escapes, fantastic coloring, and
romantic medley of incidents that must be crowded into the life of
anyone engaged in such work as yours."
"I am afraid the romance wears thin, leaving only a monotonous, not to
say sordid, reality, while details of cubic quantities would hardly
interest you. Still, and remember you have brought it upon yourself, I
will do my best."
Geoffrey reluctantly began an account of his experiences, speaking in
an indifferent manner at first, but warming to his subject, until he
spoke eloquently at length. He was not a vain man, but Millicent had
set the right chord vibrating when she chose the topic of his new-world
experiences. He stopped at last abruptly, with an uneasy laugh.
"There! I must have tired you, but you must blame yourself," he said.
"No!" Millicent assured him. "I have rarely heard anything more
interesting. It must be a very hard battle, well worth winning, but
you are fortunate in one respect--having only the rock and river to
contend against instead of human enemies."
"I am afraid we have both," was the incautious answer, and Millicent
looked out across the white-flecked waters as she commented
indifferently, "But there can be nobody but simple cattle-raisers and
forest-clearers in that region, and what could your enemies gain by
following you there?"
"They might interfere with my plans or thwart them. One of them nearly
did so!" and Geoffrey, hesitating, glanced down at his companion just a
second too late to notice the look of suspiciously-eager interest in
her face, for Millicent had put on the mask again. She was a clever
actress, quick to press into her service smile or sigh, where words
might have been injudicious, and with feminine curiosity and love of
unearthing a secret, was bent on drawing out the whole story. It did
not necessarily follow that she should impart the secret to her
husband, she said to herself. Geoffrey was, for the moment, off his
guard, and victory seemed certain for the woman.
"How did that happen?" she asked, outwardly with languid indifference,
inwardly quivering with suspense, but, as luck would have it, the
steamer, entering one of the tide races which sweep those narrow
waters, rolled wildly just then, and Geoffrey held her chair fast while
the book fell from her knee and went sliding down the slanted deck.
Vexed and nervously anxious, Millicent bit one red lip while Thurston
pursued the volume, and she could hardy conceal her chagrin when he
returned with it.
"It flew open and a page or two got wet in the scuppers. Still, it
will soon dry in the sun, and because I did my best, you will excuse me
being a few seconds too slow to save it," Geoffrey apologized.
Millicent was willing to allow him to deceive himself as to the cause
of her annoyance.
"It was a borrowed book, and I can hardly return it in this condition.
It is really vexatious," she replied, wondering how to lead the
conversation back to the place where it was interrupted. She might
have succeeded, but fate seemed against her. A passenger, who knew
them both, strolled by and nodded to Geoffrey.
"I have been looking for you, Thurston, and if Mrs. Leslie, accepting
my excuses, can spare you for a few minutes, I have something important
to tell you," said the man. "I wouldn't have disturbed you, but we'll
be alongside Vancouver wharf very shortly."
Millicent could only bow in answer, and after an apologetic glance in
her direction, Geoffrey followed the passenger.
"Mrs. Leslie's a handsome woman, though one would guess she had a
temper of her own. Perhaps you didn't notice it, but she just looked
daggers at you when you let that book get away," observed the
companion, who smiled when Geoffrey answered:
"Presumably, you didn't take all this trouble to acquaint me with that
fact?"
"No," admitted the man, with a whimsical gesture. "It was something
much more interesting--about the agitation some folks are trying to
whoop up against your partner."
Geoffrey found the information of so much interest that the steamer was
sweeping through the pine-shrouded Narrows which forms the gateway of
Vancouver's land-locked harbor when he returned to Millicent, with
English Jim following discreetly behind him.
"I am sorry that, as we are half-an-hour late, I shall barely have time
to keep an important business appointment," said Thurston. "However,
as the Sound boat does not sail immediately, my assistant, Mr. Gillow,
will be able to look after your baggage, and secure a good berth for
you. You will get hold of the purser, and see Mrs. Leslie is made
comfortable in every way before you follow me, Gillow. I shall not
want you for an hour or two."
Millicent smiled on the assistant, who took his place beside her, as
the steamer ran alongside the wharf, and his employer hurried away.
English Jim was a young, good-looking man of some education, and, since
his promotion from the cook-shed, had indulged himself in a former
weakness for tasteful apparel. He had also, though Thurston did not
notice it, absorbed just sufficient alcoholic stimulant to render him
vivacious in speech without betraying the reason for it, and Millicent,
who found him considerably more amusing than Geoffrey, wondered
whether, since she had failed with the one, she might not succeed with
the other. English Jim no more connected her with the servant of the
corporation whose interests were opposed to Savine's than he remembered
the brass baggage checks in his pocket. His gratified vanity blinded
him to everything besides the pleasure of being seen in his stylish
companion's company.
He found a sunny corner for her beside one of the big Sound steamer's
paddle casings, from which she could look across the blue waters of the
forest-girt inlet, brought up a chair and some English papers, and
after Millicent had chatted with him graciously, was willing to satisfy
her curiosity to the utmost when she said with a smile:
"You are a confidential assistant of Mr. Thurston's? He is an old
friend of mine, and knowing his energy, I dare say he works you very
hard."
"Hard is scarcely an adequate term, madam," answered English Jim.
"Nothing can tire my respected chief, and unfortunately, he expects us
all to equal him. He found me occupation--writing his letters--until 1
A.M. this morning; and, I believe, must have remained awake himself
until it was almost light, making drawings which I have had the
pleasure of poring over, all the way across. Don't you think, madam,
that it is a mistake to work so hard, that one has never leisure for
the serene contemplation which is one of the--one of the best things in
life. Besides, people who do so, are also apt to deprive others of
their opportunities."
"Perhaps so, though I hardly think Mr. Thurston would agree with you.
For instance?" asked Millicent, finding his humor infectious, for
English Jim could gather all the men in camp about him, when half in
jest and half in earnest he began one of his discourses.
"These!" was the answer, and the speaker thrust his hand into his
jacket pocket. "If Mr. Thurston had not been of such tireless nature,
I might have found leisure to admire the beauty of this most entrancing
coast scenery, instead of puzzling over weary figures in a particularly
stuffy saloon."
He held up a large handful of papers as he spoke, glanced at them
disdainfully, and, pointing vaguely across the inlet, continued, "Is
not an hour's contemplation of such a prospect better than many days'
labor?"
Millicent laughed outright, and, because, though English Jim's voice
was even, and his accent crisp and clean, his fingers were not quite so
steady as they might have been, one of the papers fluttered, unnoticed
by either of them, to her feet.
"I feel tempted to agree with you," Millicent rejoined, wishing that
she need not press on to the main point, for English Jim promised to
afford the sort of entertainment which she enjoyed. "But a man of your
frame of mind must find scanty opportunity for considering such
questions among the mountains."
"That is so," was the rueful answer. "We commence our toil at
daybreak, and too often continue until midnight. There are times when
the monotony jars upon a sensitive mind, as the camp cooking does upon
a sensitive palate. But our chief never expects more from us than he
will do himself, and is generous in rewarding meritorious service."
"So I should suppose," commented Millicent. "Knowing this, you will
all be very loyal to him?"
"Every one of us!" The loyalty of English Jim, who gracefully ignored
the inference and fell into the trap, was evident enough. "Of course,
we do not always approve of being tired to death, but where our chief
considers it necessary, we are content to obey him. In fact, it would
not make much difference if we were not," he added whimsically. "There
was, however, one instance of a black sheep, or rather wolf of the
contemptible coyote species in sheep's clothing, whom I played a minor
part in catching. But, naturally, you will not care to hear about
this?"
"I should, exceedingly. Did I not say that I am one of Mr. Thurston's
oldest friends? I should very much like to hear about the disguised
coyote. I presume you do not mean a real one, and are speaking
figuratively?"
Gillow was flattered by the glance she cast upon him, and, remembering
only that this gracious lady was one of his employer's friends,
proceeded to gratify her by launching into a vivid description of what
happened on the night when he dropped the prowler into the river. He
had, however, sense enough to conclude with the capture of the man.
"But you have not told me the sequel," said Millicent. "Did you lynch
the miscreant in accordance with the traditional customs of the West,
or how did Mr. Thurston punish him? He is not a man who lightly
forgives an injury."
"No," replied Gillow, rashly. "Against my advice, though my respected
employer is difficult to reason with, he kept the rascal in camp, both
feeding and paying him well."
"You surprise me. I should have expected a more dramatic finale."
Millicent's tone might have deceived a much more clever man who did not
know her husband's position. "Why did he do so?"
There were, however, limits to English Jim's communicativeness, and he
answered: "Mr. Thurston did not explain his motives, and it is not
always wise to ask him injudicious questions."
Millicent, having learned what she desired to know, rested content with
this, and chatted on other subjects until the big bell clanged, and the
whistle shrieked out its warning. Then the dismissed Gillow with her
thanks, and the last she saw of him he was being held back by a
policeman as he struggled to scale a lofty railing while the steamer
slid clear of the wharf. He waved an arm in the air shouting
frantically, and through the thud of paddles she caught the disjointed
sentences, "Very sorry. Forgot baggage checks--all your boxes here.
Leave first steamer--sending checks by mail!"
"It is impossible for us to turn back, madam," said the purser to whom
Millicent appealed. "The baggage will, no doubt, follow the day after
to-morrow."
"But that gentleman has my ticket, and doesn't know my address!"
protested the unfortunate passenger, and the purser answered:
"I really cannot help it, but I will telegraph to any of your friends
from the first way-port we call at, madam."
When the steamer had vanished behind the stately pines shrouding the
Narrows, English Jim sat down upon a timber-head and swore a little at
what he called his luck, before he uneasily recounted the folded papers
in his wallet.
"A pretty mess I've made of it all, and there'll be no end of trouble
if Thurston hears of this," he said aloud, so that a loafing porter
heard and grinned. "I'll write a humble letter--but, confound it, I
don't know where she's going to, and now here is one of those
distressful tracings missing. It must have been that old sketch of
Savine's, and Thurston will never want it, while nobody but a
draughtsman could make head or tail of the thing. Anyway, I'll get
some dinner before I decide what is best to be done."
While Gillow endeavored to enjoy his dinner, and, being an easy-going
man, partially succeeded, Millicent, who had picked up a folded paper,
leaned upon the steamer's rail with it open in her hand.
"This is Greek to me, but I suppose it is of value. I will keep it,
and perhaps give it back to Geoffrey," she ruminated. "The game was
amusing, but I feel horribly mean, and whether I shall tell Harry or
not depends very much upon his behavior."