THE LANDING
When Dan Webster awoke, next morning, his first thought was that
something was wrong, and it was a moment before he realised what it was.
The screw had stopped. Instead of quivering with the steady, pulse-like
vibration to which, during the past week, he had grown accustomed, the
ship lay dead and motionless. He got on deck as quickly as he could, and
found that they were anchored in the shelter of Sandy Hook, with a boat
from quarantine alongside. Already the deck was thronged with excited
passengers; many of the women, in their eagerness to go ashore, had put
on their hats and veils and even their gloves. But word got about that
there was some sickness in the steerage, and that it would probably be
some hours before they could proceed.
Dan took a long look at the familiar land; then he hurried below to
breakfast. He had planned his campaign before he went to sleep the
previous night, and he was eager to begin it. Breakfast, therefore, did
not take him long, and he was soon searching the decks for the man who,
possibly, was a son of the Kaiser, but, much more probably, merely a
young German who made the most of a chance resemblance.
Dan possessed the aplomb which only years of work on a great paper can
give a man; he had wormed interviews from many reluctant and exalted
personages; he had asked questions which the other man was certain to
resent, often quite justly; he had drilled himself to believe that, when
he was on the trail, all mankind was fair game, and that any device
which would drag the truth from them was justified--the truth, the
truth, that was the end and the justification of newspaper methods!
Nevertheless, his heart beat a little faster when, at last, he perceived
the object of his search leaning against the rail at the rear of the
upper promenade and gazing out to sea.
"I've got buck-fever," he told himself. "It's because I'm out of
training." And then he wondered if the Prince was thinking of Germany,
and of the lady-love from whom he had been torn.
Nobody else, apparently, had any thought for Germany or for the open
sea. Every one had crowded to the side-rails to stare at the land or at
the smudge of smoke which marked Long Island, and the stern of the ship
was deserted. Telling himself that he would never have a better chance,
and that he must finish with the affair before the ship-reporters came
aboard, Dan braced himself, approached the solitary and somewhat
pathetic figure, removed his cap and bowed respectfully. The Prince,
abruptly wakened from his day-dreams, looked up with a start, and met
Dan's smiling eyes with an astonished stare.
"I see Your Highness does not remember me," said Dan, good-humouredly.
"That is not remarkable, but I was conceited enough to think it just
possible that you might."
"No," said the Prince, finding his tongue, "I fear I do not...." He
stopped abruptly. "For whom do you take me?" he demanded.
"Surely I am not mistaken!" and Dan looked at him more closely. "No--it
is really Your Highness! I cannot be deceived!"
The Prince met his gaze and shook his head, and tried to laugh. But he
was not a good liar--his father had long since recognised his unfitness
for any diplomatic mission.
"I see it is useless for me to dissemble," he said, in a low tone. "But
I am here strictly incognito, and I beg that you will not betray me.
Where have we met?"
Dan's heart leaped with exultation. And then a little feeling of shame
seized him. It was too bad to have to betray the fellow--but duty
demanded it! Perhaps, however, it could be done in a way that would not
be offensive. He opened his lips to explain, when a stocky figure
suddenly thrust itself between them, and Dan found himself gazing into a
pair of irate eyes.
"What is this?" demanded the newcomer, though his voice, too, was
carefully lowered. "Who are you, sir?"
Dan felt his good resolutions ooze away at the other's brutal manner.
"I am a reporter," he said.
"What is your business?"
"Gathering news."
"Your business here, I mean?"
"I was just interviewing the Prince," explained Dan, blandly. "The
_Record_ would be very glad to have his opinion of the Moroccan
situation, of the Italian war, of the triple entente, or of anything
else he cares to talk about. Perhaps he could find a theme in the
destruction of _La Liberte_."
He spoke at random, and was surprised to see how fixedly the other man
regarded him, with eyes in which apprehension seemed to have taken the
place of anger.
"One moment," said Pachmann, for it was he, and he turned and spoke a
few rapid words of German to the Prince, who reddened and nodded
sullenly. Dan judged from the sound of the Admiral's subsequent remarks
that he was swearing; but he preserved a pleasant countenance, the more
easily since, happening to glance up, he saw Chevrial leaning over the
rail of the boat-deck just above them and regarding the scene with an
amused smile. At last, having relieved his feelings, the Admiral fell
silent and pulled absently at the place where his moustache had been.
"When does your paper appear?" Pachmann asked, at last.
"To-morrow morning."
"You would not wish to use the interview before that time?"
"No."
Pachmann breathed a sigh of relief, and his face cleared.
"Then we are prepared to make a bargain with you," he said. "It is most
important that the Prince's incognito be strictly preserved until
to-night. If you will give me your word of honour to say nothing of this
to any one until eight o'clock this evening, I, in return, give you my
word of honour that the Prince, at that hour, will grant you an
interview which I am sure you will find of interest. Do you agree?"
Dan reflected rapidly that he had nothing to lose by such an agreement;
that eight o'clock would release him from his promise in ample time to
write his story; and the interview _might_ really be important.
"Yes," he said; "I agree; but on one condition."
"What is that?" demanded Pachmann, impatiently.
"That the interview be exclusive."
"Exclusive?" echoed Pachmann. "I do not understand."
"I mean by that that no one else is to get the interview but me," Dan
explained.
A sardonic smile flitted across Pachmann's lips.
"I agree to the condition," he said. "And you on your part agree to say
no word to any one; you are not to mention the appointment which I will
make with you."
"I understand," said Dan. "But, interview or no interview, I am to be
released from the promise at eight o'clock."
"Yes. Very well, then. I accept your word of honour, and I give you
mine. At seven o'clock to-night, you will call at the German consulate
and ask for Admiral Pachmann. I shall be in waiting to conduct you to
the Prince."
"I thank you," said Dan, and walked away, treading on air. Then another
consideration occurred to him. All this was going to interfere with his
evening with Kasia. He must see her and explain that he would be late.
But an official stopped him at the gangway and explained that, under
quarantine regulations, each class must keep to its own quarters until
the boat had docked.
* * * * *
The delay was less than had been feared, for the illness in the steerage
turned out to be well-defined typhoid; so, at the end of two hours, the
big ship began to move slowly up the harbour, with the passengers
hanging over the rails, for the first glimpse of the great city. There
was the green shore of Long Island; and then the hills of Staten Island;
and then, there to the left, loomed the Statue of Liberty, her torch
held high. Dan took off his cap, his eyes moist; and then, as he glanced
at the faces of his neighbours, he saw that they were all gazing raptly
at the majestic figure, just as he had been. Most of them, no doubt, had
seen it many times before; some of them, perhaps, had committed the
sacrilege of climbing up into the head and scribbling their names there;
they had glanced at her carelessly enough outward-bound for Europe; but
now she had for all of them new meaning,--she typified the spirit of
their Fatherland, she welcomed them home.
And finally the wonderful skyline of New York towered far ahead, the
web-like structure of the Brooklyn bridge spanning the river to the
right; little clouds of steam crowning with white the summits of the
towering buildings, and a million windows flashing back the sunlight.
There is nothing else in the whole world like it, and the thousand
passengers on the upper decks coming home, and the thousand men and
women crowded on the lower deck, seeking fortune in a strange land--all
alike gazed and marvelled and were glad.
Then, with a battalion of tugs pushing and pulling and straining and
panting, the ship swung in toward her dock, and soon she was near enough
for those on board to see the faces of the waiting crowd, and there were
cries of greeting and wavings of handkerchiefs, and the shedding of
happy tears--for it is good to get home! And at last the great hawsers
were flung out and made fast, and the voyage was ended.
At this moment, as at all others, the first-cabin passengers had the
precedence, and filed slowly down one gangplank, their landing-tickets
in their hands, while at another the stewards proceeded to yank off the
hand-baggage. Dan, leaning over the rail, watched the long line of
passengers surging slowly forward, and finally he saw Kasia and her
father. He would see them on the pier, of course, for it would take them
some time to get their baggage through, and he could explain to Kasia
about the other engagement. He followed them with his eyes--and then,
with a gasp of astonishment, he perceived just behind them, also moving
slowly down the gangplank, the Prince and the man who had called himself
Admiral Pachmann.
But those men could have nothing to do with Kasia! It was just an
accident that they happened to be behind her. And then he grasped the
rail and strained forward, scarcely able to believe his eyes. For
Pachmann had spoken to Vard, who nodded and walked hurriedly on with
him, while Kasia, with a mocking smile, tucked her hand within the
Prince's arm and fell into step beside him. Along the pier they hastened
to the entrance gates, passed through, and were lost in the crowd
outside.
Dan stood staring after them for yet a moment; then, with the careful
step of a man who knows himself to be intoxicated, he climbed painfully
to the boat-deck, dropped upon a bench there, and took his head in his
hands.
There, half an hour later, a steward found him.
"Beg pardon, sir," he said. "Are you ill?"
Dan looked up dazedly.
"No," he said. "Why?"
"The passengers are all off, sir. If you have any luggage, you'd better
be having it examined, sir."
"Thank you," said Dan, and got to his feet, descended to the lower deck,
surrendered his landing ticket, and went unsteadily down the gangplank.
The pier was littered with baggage and crowded with distracted men and
women watching the inspectors diving remorselessly among their tenderest
possessions. Each was absorbed in his own affairs, and none of them
noticed Dan's slow progress toward the little office of the
chief-inspector. After a short wait, an inspector was told off to look
through his baggage, and, with Dan's declaration in his hand, led the
way to the letter "W," where his two suit-cases were soon found. Dan
unlocked them, and stood aside while the inspector knelt and examined
their contents. He was through in ten minutes.
"Nothing here," he said, and rose. Then his eyes ran Dan up and down. "I
see you have a small parcel in your coat-pocket. May I see it?"
Without a word, Dan handed him the parcel. The inspector turned it over
and examined the seals.
"What's in it?" he asked.
"A little electrical device," Dan answered.
"Well, I'll have to open it--it might be diamonds, for all I know."
"Go ahead," said Dan, and the inspector broke the seals, unwrapped the
paper, and disclosed a small pasteboard box. He lifted the lid, glanced
inside, and then looked at Dan.
"What is this? A joke?" he demanded.
"I don't understand," Dan stammered.
"You said it was an electrical device."
"That's what it is."
"Either you're crazy or I am," said the man; "and I don't think it's
me," and he thrust the box under Dan's nose.
And Dan's eyes nearly leaped from his head, for the box contained a cake
of soap, cut neatly to fit it, into which had been pressed a number of
nickel coins.