but he was not enamored of her--the masculine desire for possession
had not yet asserted itself; he was being unconsciously led, however,
in that direction. Nature’s preparatory course was on a much higher
plane than was the human style of preparation given by the Doctor to
Mr. Onset. Paul felt beginning to blossom within him such an honest
regard, such a profound admiration for Adele, for her sincerity and
the truth in her, that he was led to “believe in her,” trusted her
perfectly, and was ready to defend her in all things. But he did not
love her in the complete sense of the term under natural laws: the
“for better or for worse” in the supreme sense had not yet made its
appeal, nor had either of them yet seen Aphrodite rising from the sea.
What was Paul’s condition from a purely philosophical standpoint?
He had acquired through Adele’s force of character that which was
far better, the permeating sacred spirit in which all true affection
must rest if it is to endure. Paul was as true in type as Adele. Her
mentality had conquered by manifesting her spirit from within, he
had obtained a firm intellectual belief based upon certain phenomena
in nature. Would the realizing sense of the need of each other
follow? If so, what direction, what line would it take--physical or
spiritual, downwards or upwards, for better or for worse? The blossom
might fall blighted before the perfect fruit was formed.
As a matter of fact they themselves were absorbed simply in the
beauty of the flower as it unclosed, with little thought of else than
the enjoyable present.
XVI
COURAGE VERSUS FOOLHARDINESS
While yet thinking about Adele, Paul stood near the stern of the
vessel, overlooking the foamy roadway produced by the constantly
revolving propeller; he noticed the rapid progress made by the ship
which bore him onwards. Looking outwards his thoughts at first turned
hopefully towards the future--towards the region to which they were
going; but soon, very soon, that which was before his very eyes drew
his mind towards the past, suggested by the boiling wake extending in
imagination clear back to the land they had quitted. Yet as a matter
of fact it was neither the past nor the future that was just then
most urgent with a crucial test for him; he was about to realize that
the present is always more urgent and important than either.
Paul stood musing about this luminous pathway which led back to their
native land, their home, yet each moment took him farther away from
such associations, to meet strangers from whom in the very nature of
things he could not expect such spontaneous sympathy as with his own
countrymen.
Phosphorescence shone upon the troubled waters, marking the wake
of the ship for some distance. The sky clear, and in the sheen of
the moonlight details of the white-crested waves could easily be
defined. It was one of those glorious evenings when the seascape
appears artistically perfect, but cold and unsympathetic. Moonbeams
are not inherently sympathetic, they have no warmth, they come not
direct from that source of heat and life which gives the vital energy
to all material things. But to imagination and in idealization
moonbeams may excite or allay fear, and they often give a clearer
vision of what sympathy really is, namely, hope and succor when most
needed. Nature is always kind if we have the spiritual discernment to
appreciate her, but variable according to her own methods.
Paul had but little of the red-hot-heroic in his physical make-up,
nor was he especially romantic, but he did have something a great
deal better. As often with those of his type, his sound mind in
healthy body was supplemented by a keen sense of duty. Moonbeams and
romanticism he could joke about, but underneath the jokes he had most
decided opinions that a fellow ought to help others when necessity
arose, and also his own ideas as to what was practical and what was
foolhardy.
While still musing he could not avoid admiring the scene, and
spontaneously associating it with one he knew could enjoy it; the
picture was complete, ready to be admired. “I think Adele would enjoy
it, she ought to see it. The ship is not going too rapidly, so the
noise of the propeller amounts to little. I’ll go and find her,”
and he turned to seek her whose pleasure was now more to him than
heretofore.
Hurrying away, he had taken but a few steps before his attention was
arrested by a commotion forward. There were voices, then the rapid
patter and scuffling of feet on the deck, then a sharp cry, a cry the
most soul-stirring a landsman can hear when in mid-ocean:
“Man overboard!”
“Which side?” exclaimed Paul, spontaneous.
“Port, sir!”
This caused such a complete revolution in Paul’s emotion that for
an instant he was confused. Like many a landsman, with little fear
of the water itself, yet with little or no practice at sea, the
simplest nautical phrase was apt to convey confused ideas. He could
not on the instant remember whether he should look forward or aft
(as in a theatre) to determine port from starboard on board ship,
and as usual rushed over to the wrong side. The light was bad, the
moon shone the wrong way to see clearly, he rushed back again, leaned
over the hand rail and thought he saw something bobbing about on the
water, but was not sure--only an instant, then could distinguish the
waving arms of some one struggling. The figure was yet ahead, but
approaching, not quite near yet, but about to pass as he looked on.
The situation was painfully dramatic, but from the deck as Paul saw
it not so perilous if actions were prompt.
“Where are those life preservers?” and with pocket-knife he cut
one loose and threw it overboard, then a second, and some smaller
cork-floats. Why several? He did not stop to think, for another cry,
this time from the deep, reached his ear, the cry of a drowning
man. It came sharp on the night air, like a personal appeal, and so
sounded to Paul--a personal appeal, for none could have now heard it
as clearly as he.
This was more than Paul could stand without making instant response.
Two more rips of the knife blade, this time on his own shoe-strings,
off went the shoes, then coat and waistcoat.
He answered with his college call, “All right, old fellow!” then
sprang on the hand rail and plunged headlong into the ocean, a clear
dive from the deck outwards, to find the drowning man.
None but a deck hand caught a glimpse of the youthful figure
springing into space, of course too late for him to interfere. “Two
overboard!” cried the sailor promptly, then giving vent to his own
reflections, “Some blasted fool who wants to do the thing hisself!”
mumbling as he went forward to report.
Increased excitement, passengers calling for help.
“Where was the other man?” exclaimed several voices among a group
coming aft to the new center of interest. “Where?”
“There, ma’am!” said the deck hand, pointing; “he left his boots.”
“Poor fellow!” exclaimed Miss Winchester. “Oh, Adele, what a legacy!
Just think of it, boots!”
The crowd rushed to look at the boots. They were held up for
inspection. Frank Winchester no sooner turned her eyes upon them than
she rushed forward, recognized the coat and waistcoat, and stood
aghast.
“It’s Paul!”
Adele did not move, she seemed turned to stone.
Her eyes were fixed, looking straight ahead, trying to pierce the
shadowy deep, the boundless expanse. The ocean seemed enormous,
terrible, and, oh, so cold, heartless, consuming! “What! There? Lost!”
But she was quiet only for an instant, then seizing any loose
articles she could find threw them overboard, and with strong emotion
invited others to do the same. “Anything that will float--will float!
It may reach them; it may, it must!” and the passengers followed her
example.
More life preservers, several deck stools and steamer chairs then
followed overboard before the enraged boatswain could interfere to
stop their useless efforts.
“Don’t you see we’re b’arin’ round?” growled the old salt. “The
boats’ll pick ’em up. There’s no sea on now.”
“I truly hope so,” breathed Adele.
“They’ve got plenty of floats already,” said the sailor.
“How do you know?” demanded Miss Winchester, nettled at the fellow’s
brusque manner.
“Well, he’s got plenty anyway. Look here!” and it was indeed a great
relief to see the dangling ends of those cut ropes, cut by Paul only
a few minutes before, not insignificant items, for they told of
presence of mind and foresight instead of reckless venture.
A lull followed, while the vessel began to turn in its course.
Several boats were made ready to be lowered into the water.
“Adele,” said Miss Winchester, striving to grasp the situation,
“Adele, I knew he could swim, all right, but, really, really I did
not take him for that sort of man.”
“H’m!”
“He’s very brave, Adele.”
“Perhaps you don’t understand him as well as I do,” and Adele’s voice
betrayed a greater intensity of feeling than she had intended. Then,
as if catching herself before too late, she added in a very different
tone, and casting her eyes towards the center of the ship, where the
officer of the deck was giving directions:
“Frank, he’ll not be left--not if I can help it. Just wait a minute.”
Each had done what she could thus far.
XVII
TWO RESCUES--AND TWO GIRLS
The turning of the steamer appeared to take an interminable time,
especially to the only two members of the Cultus party who knew that
Paul was overboard. The passengers watched the great curve of foam
left behind as the huge monster crept around in its course. Then
whispers were heard, irrepressible, nervous whispers from people who
could not keep still, and who jerked their hands up and down as if
they themselves were in a dilemma.
“We’ll never find ’em, never! We’re only getting further off! Will
she never turn round? We’re miles away now! Why don’t they steer
straight for where they are?”
“I wish I had my hands on that wheel, I’d yank her around in a
jiffy.” This critic was judging by a cruise he had made in a cat-boat
on Barnegat Bay.
“I hope they’ve got them preservers hitched up high,” quoth a kind,
thoughtful old dame, wearing a knitted hood and shawl crosswise.
“It’s awful important not to be top-heavy in the sea, nor to swallow
too much water; it’s awful salt, you know”--this kind suggestion the
result of experience in a surf bath at Atlantic City.
The boatswain’s whiskers surrounded a capacious grin as he listened
to this sagacious advice, while at the same time he was watching the
great semicircle of foam change to a horseshoe curve, the two ends
converging toward a point in the open. He took a shy glance towards
the bridge, observing what was going on there, and then called out:
“Keep a lookout for’ard! Who’s got the best eyes?”
All strained their necks to catch a glimpse ahead.
The vessel had by this time veered and was ploughing back in a direct
course. Suddenly a beam of light shot out from above the bridge,
illuminating far ahead, penetrating the moonlight, making objects on
the surface distinctly visible.
“The search light! The search light!” and a burst of cheers went
forth loud enough to be heard a long distance.
“Give ’em another, boatswain!” exclaimed the Barnegat critic.
“Those fellows ain’t deaf, give ’em another, boatswain!” This from
the thoughtful hood and shawl.
The old salt looked disgusted, for he had not taken part in this
demonstration, but the advisory committee took it up at once,
cheering again and again, as if the rescue depended upon the noise
they made.
Adele put her arm in Frank Winchester’s and drew her away towards one
of the life boats amidship. The boat was already manned, waiting to
be lowered at the right time.
Professor Cultus and the Doctor were standing near these boats, when
Adele touched the latter on the shoulder.
He turned quickly, something in her manner impressed him, and he drew
her aside.
“Please go in that boat, Doctor Wise.”
“What, you want _me_ to go?”
“Yes, by all means.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Oh, but you will, if you’ll only go.”
“But there’s no reason for my going.”
“Yes, there is. Don’t ask me, but go, please, you really ought to go.”
“Ought, ought to?” repeated the Doctor curious, very thoughtful.
Now Doctor Wise had already learned that the first man overboard
was Mr. Onset, the very man he had frightened by his amateur mental
science treatment. Could the hysteria have returned in some new
form? Was it no cure after all? Could the man have attempted suicide?
If so, didn’t he himself have some personal responsibility from
tampering with such a case? He should have left it for regular
treatment. A successful cure would probably have brought no such
adverse consequences as this; but if unsuccessful who would be to
blame? At any rate he was now identified with Onset on board that
ship and could not remain passive in such an emergency, even if the
ship’s crew could do the work better.
Such thoughts rushed through the Doctor’s mind when Adele told him he
ought to go with the rescue party, as he supposed, to help Onset.
An executive officer was superintending the boat close by, when
Doctor Wise approached and asked nervously:
“Where is the physician of the ship?”
“With the next boat ahead.”
“Then I should like to go with this one.”
“Contrary to all rules,” said the officer, sharply.
Adele overheard this and before Doctor Wise decided what to do she
had the executive officer by the sleeve, holding on firmly.
He politely but forcibly told her to let go and keep cool, but she
would not, not until she drew herself near enough to whisper in his
ear. If he could have seen her eyes he would have listened even more
quickly than he did, but she made her voice speak from her heart.
Those close by only heard the first words, “Doctor Wise will be of
the greatest use, he----” the rest in an undertone.
Several of the self-constituted advisory critics at once volunteered
the opinion that two doctors were not too many for two men overboard.
The title “Doctor” carried its own weight and the rush of events
prevented any questions.
Miss Winchester meanwhile had worked her way through the crowd to
the side of the vessel and was straining every nerve to discover the
whereabouts of the two men struggling in the water. No doubt they
had been sighted already by the officers on the bridge, because the
speed of the vessel had been slackened and the search light kept
in a definite direction, but Frank wanted to see them with her own
eyes, alive and kicking, if possible, especially the kicking, to
make sure they were alive. She thought she saw them, then knew she
did not; she put up her hands to look through the fingers curved to
form binoculars, but this was no better. Then eagerly looking around
she spied a pair of glasses in the hands of a lady. “Oh, excuse me,
just a minute!” and without waiting for a response, took the glasses
without ceremony. Mrs. Thorn let her keep the glasses, but watched
her excited fingers attempting to focus them in the dim light.
The speed was now so much less that boats could be lowered, ready
to be let adrift at a moment’s notice. Miss Winchester saw the
Doctor in the second boat, then noticed a small white spot in the
distance upon the surface of the sea, and while struggling to focus
those “obstinate glasses” on the white spot only made matters worse.
Annoyed, clumsy just when most anxious and impatient, she pressed
her lips together to steady her usually strong nerves, almost biting
the end of her tongue, and lo! the glasses were all right, and into
vision sprang the white spot, a life preserver supporting some one
waving a handkerchief; one end of it was in his teeth and the other
corner was held at full length, not at all unlike a flag of truce or
a “peace-flag” amid all the commotion and excitement.
“Oh, Adele, I see them! He doesn’t seem to mind it in the least.”
“Both?” asked Adele, eagerly.
“Yes! no! yes!--I can’t make out what he’s got. Yes, two! I think so.”
“They’re both there, ma’am,” said a sailor, respectfully. “The
Captain gave orders for each boat to bring a man. He’s seen ’em ’way
back.”
The boats were cast off; they rose and fell upon the undulations
of the mighty deep, now more impressive than when traversed at the
more rapid speed. The tiny boats ascended to the summits of the
white-crested waves and then were hidden in the deep valleys of the
dark sea. Paul, fluttering his little white flag, rose and fell with
them. They approached each other with the movements of a stately
minuet upon the ocean. The fixed lights in the heavens above and the
creeping search light of man below illumined the scene.
When Doctor Wise recognized Paul it gave him an icy chill down
the middle of his back. It will never be known which was really
experiencing the worst chill at the instant, the Doctor or Paul.
However, the Doctor managed to shake himself back into a normal
condition, then stood up in the boat and motioned with a peculiar
movement, knowing Paul would recognize one of their private signals.
Paul did recognize it and gave the reply. The Doctor then felt in his
hip pocket for his whiskey flask--it was all right--and then waited
until the boat was near enough to throw a line; Paul seized it.
The rescued Mr. Warder was found floating in a circular life
preserver as serenely as a duck in a pond. He held Onset tightly with
one arm, while Onset clung to him with both, though safe enough if he
could but have realized it. There was nothing tragic whatever about
either of them, except Onset’s state of mind, which he showed by his
convulsed clasp of Paul.
Paul had taken a great risk, from the popular point of view, but in
so doing had trusted to the good faith of others to aid him and had
not been deceived. Without formulating these facts in his own mind
on the instant, he had acted nevertheless upon the presumption that
the science of navigation was able to meet such a case, and he had
faith in human nature when embodied in sincere men. He had trusted
the truth, and that had made him free to act for the best, as he saw
it; and all this spontaneously, because he had the courage of such
convictions ingrained in his character.
XVIII
A SENSATION VERSUS AN IMPRESSION
“Why did you do it?” asked the Doctor, as they rowed back to the ship.
“He called me.”
“Who? Onset?”
“Yes. There was no real danger, only some risk.”
“The deuce there wasn’t,” rather surprised at Paul’s nonchalance.
“I knew you would pick me up. Onset floated, but was nearly a goner
when I reached him.”
“What possessed the fellow?”
“I don’t know. He was scared wild when I first saw him, beating his
arms about in every direction. That’s what kept him from sinking,
even if his head went under at times. Got any more whiskey?”
Paul had been in the water only about half an hour, no longer than
during many a previous dip in the surf, but the nervous tension had
been severe.
The Doctor took hold of his hands and found the finger tips were
merely cold, not blue, and as usual the form and vitality of the hand
showed every element of power to give many a good grip yet.
“Ah!” thought the Doctor, “your type can put forth the strenuous
effort if your spirit calls for it, and it does sometimes draw upon
the physical too much; the best swimmers are for this cause sometimes
drowned. Don’t do it again, my boy. When the reaction comes you
require stimulants even more than at the time of exertion,” and he
again gave Paul the flask.
Mr. Onset was similarly cared for in the other boat. When the two
crews came together near the steamer Doctor Wise inquired of the
physician in charge what Onset had to say for himself.
“He says he became giddy and fell over. I don’t believe him.”
“H’m,” mused the Doctor, “weak head and hysterical legs--what will he
do next?”
Once on board again and the steamer well on her course, the incident
produced quite a little sensation, a surface ripple, but very little
serious impression.
Paul, in spite of himself, had to gratify curiosity and explain
details--how he first caught one of the floating deck stools (“the
one I threw over,” said the benign countenance with the woollen
hood), then swam towards where he thought Onset might be, and saw his
head against the sheen on the water, and then kept his eye on the
head while swimming; how it did not seem a long swim, but a little
slow after finding a life preserver to tow along; how he managed to
get the floats under Onset, after first boxing his ears to keep him
quiet, and then ducked into the life preserver himself, “and there we
were until the steamer turned head on and the search light became so
blinding that I could not see what I could see.”
“Oh, you good boy!” again exclaimed the beaming hooded countenance,
who had evidently been reading one of Mr. Frank Stockton’s stories.
“Do tell us, is it true, as Miss Frank says, that you wore black
stockings to keep off sharks?”
“Trousers, this time, madame--trousers! I really didn’t have time to
change.”
* * * * *
“All’s well that ends well,” but with Adele it was not the end, much
more the real beginning.
The part she had taken in connection with the case of Onset’s
hysteria, her mental activity during the discussion with Mrs. Geyser
and the spiritual experience she had just encountered in learning
Paul’s decided force of character, made the young woman live and
breathe intensely. Her whole being had been brought into play. She
developed more during that eventful week of their life in mid-ocean
than she might have done in a whole year on land. Not that aught
of her past was lost or ignored, but it was made effective and she
herself made more completely alive. She was now indeed amid the
turmoils of life, where she found herself taking an active part.
The strange and varied motives which actuated many, also the lofty
aspirations and the power to act, seemed very similar to her own
ideals, far more so than she had expected. This took away some of
her own youthful conceit, but gave her a much deeper and stronger
appreciation of things as a whole.
Naturally a strong conviction arose within her that two individuals
with different characteristics, yet harmonious in purpose, must be
able to work better together than alone. She had always felt rather
independent as to any methods she chose to adopt, but now she felt
herself confronted by a whole series of things she could not do, no
matter how good the motive. Paul, for instance, being a man, had done
just what she would have liked to do, but could not, being a woman.
She felt quite able to have done it--oh, yes; she could dive and swim
and keep it up; but somehow, for her to have jumped overboard--well,
don’t do it--foolishness--ridiculous. But Paul could--no foolishness,
nothing ridiculous; in fact, a praiseworthy act, a reasonable risk,
approved by his conscience at the time and eventually strengthening
his character. She began to obtain a realizing sense of the
complementary equivalent in human nature.
Unavoidably Paul rose higher in her estimation. Twice he had shown
himself her equal, perhaps even her superior, not mentally, but
somehow in a forcible manner which taxed her spirit as well as
her intellect to comprehend. He had once proved how her own vocal
accomplishments, so much more highly developed than his, could be in
spirit most potent when made subsidiary to the words and sentiment of
a song; now he had shown that actions are more convincing than words
themselves in spiritual significance. She no longer thought of Paul
as like other men, two-sided, one side good and the other--well, not
so good; but rather as good all round, a really good man. Being an
idealist, she put Paul on a pedestal and took a good look at him.
Certainly he was very sensible and brave, also fascinating, now that
she saw him in a good light.
This was the state of affairs when the crossing of the Atlantic ended
by their entering the Straits of Gibraltar.
XIX
GIBRALTAR APPEARS AND DISAPPEARS
It may seem superfluous to observe that the military spirit dominated
every other at “The Gib,” but the ladies of the Cultus party had
little idea how forcibly it would affect them until they were behind
the guns.
Four regiments were quartered at the station--brilliant uniforms
in all directions. Regulation scarlet most in vogue; also “the
sporty Rifles,” parti-colored like paroquets, green predominating;
also Scotch Highlanders in white and flesh tints of nature. Bands
and bag-pipes, fifers and drum corps perambulated the narrow
streets--action, color, martial music in the air--the spirit of the
place exhilarating at first and its activity contagious.