THE NOSTRUM
The hemisphere of heaven was drenched in moonlight, and--rare happening
either on British earth or on the waters surrounding it, in mid-summer--the
night was warm. In the midst of the glittering sea the yacht moved without
the appearance of motion; only by leaning over the rail and watching the
bubbles glide away from her could you detect her progress. There were no
waves, no ripples, nothing but a scarcely perceptible swell. The gentle
breeze, unnoticeable on deck, was abaft; all the sails had been lowered and
stowed except the large square sail bent on a yard to the mainmast and
never used except with such a wind. The _Ariadne_ had a strong flood tide
under her, and her 200-h.p. twin motors were stopped. Hence there was no
tremor in the ship and no odour of paraffin in the nostrils of those who
chanced to wander aft of the engine-room. The deck awning had been rolled
up to the centre, and at the four corners of its frame had been hung four
temporary electric lights within Chinese lanterns. A radiance ascended from
the saloon skylight; the windows of the deck-house blazed as usual, but the
deck-house was empty; a very subdued glow indicated where the binnacle was.
And, answering these signs of existence, could be distinguished the red and
green lights of steamers, the firm rays of lighthouses, and the red or
white warnings of gas-buoys run by clockwork.
The figures of men and women--the women in pale gowns, the men in
blue-and-white--lounged or strolled on the spotless deck which unseen hands
swabbed and stoned every morning at 6 o'clock; and among these figures
passed the figure of a steward with a salver, staying them with flagons,
comforting them with the finest exotic fruit. Occasionally the huge square
sail gave an idle flap. "Get that lead out, 'Orace," commanded a grim voice
from the wheel. A splash followed, as a man straddled himself over the
starboard bow, swung a weighted line to and fro and threw it from him.
"Four." Another splash. "Four." Another splash. "Four." Another splash.
"Three-half." Another splash. "Three-half." Another splash. "Three."
Another splash. "Two-half." Another splash. "Three." Another splash.
"Five." "That'll do, 'Orace," came the voice from the wheel. Then an
entranced silence.
The scene had the air of being ideal. And yet it was not. Something lacked.
That something was the owner. The owner lay indisposed in the sacred
owner's cabin. And this was a pity because a dance had been planned for
that night. It might have taken place without the owner, but the strains of
the gramophone and especially the shuffling of feet on the deck would have
disturbed him. True, he had sent up word by Doctor Cromarty that he was not
to be considered. But the doctor had delivered the message without any
conviction, and the unanimous decision was that the owner must, at all
costs, be considered.
It was Ostend, on top of the owner's original offer to Audrey, that had
brought about the suggestion of a dance. They had coasted up round
Gris-Nez from Boulogne to Ostend, and had reached the harbour there barely
in time to escape from the worst of a tempest that had already begun to
produce in the minds of sundry passengers a grave doubt whether yachting
was, after all, the most delightful of pursuits. Some miles before the
white dome of the Kursaal was sighted the process of moral decadence had
set in, and passengers were lying freely to each other, and boastfully
lying, just as though somebody had been accusing them of some dreadful
crime of cowardice or bad breeding instead of merely inquiring about the
existence of physical symptoms over which they admittedly had no control
whatever. The security of a harbour, with a railway station not fifty
yards from the yacht's bowsprit, had restored them, by dint of calming
secret fears, to their customary condition of righteousness and rectitude.
Several days of gusty rainstorms had elapsed at Ostend, and the passengers
had had the opportunity to study the method of managing a yacht, and to
visit the neighbourhood. The one was as wondrous as the other. They found
letters and British and French newspapers on their plates at breakfast. And
the first object they had seen on the quay, and the last object they saw
there, was the identical large limousine which they had left on the quay at
Boulogne. It would have taken them to Ghent but for the owner's powerful
objection to their eating any meal off the yacht. Seemingly he had a great
and sincere horror of local viands and particularly of local water. He was
their slave; they might demand anything from him; he was the very symbol of
hospitality and chivalry, but somehow they could not compass a meal away
from the yacht. Similarly, he would have them leave the Kursaal not later
than ten o'clock, when the evening had not veritably begun. They did not
clearly understand by what means he imposed his will, but he imposed it.
The departure from Ostend was accomplished after the glass had begun to
rise, but before it had finished rising, and there were apprehensions in
the saloon and out of it, when the spectacle of the open sea, and the feel
of it under the feet, showed that, as of old, water was still unstable. The
process of moral decadence would have set in once more but for the prudence
and presence of mind of Audrey, who had laid in a large stock of the
specific which had been of such notable use to herself and Miss Ingate on
previous occasions. Praising openly its virtues, confessing frankly her own
weakness and preaching persuasively her own faith, she had distributed the
nostrum, and in about a quarter of an hour had established a justifiable
confidence. Mr. Gilman alone would not partake, and indeed she had hardly
dared to offer the thing to so experienced a sailor. The day had favoured
her. The sea grew steadily more tranquil, and after skirting the Belgian
and French coasts for some little distance the _Ariadne_, under orders, had
turned her nose boldly northward for the estuary of the Thames. The
_Ariadne_ was now in the midst of that very complicated puzzle of deeps and
shallows. The passengers, in fact, knew that they were in the region of the
North Edinburgh, but what or where the North Edinburgh was they had only
the vaguest idea. The blot on the voyage had been the indisposition of Mr.
Gilman, who had taken to his berth early, and who saw nobody but his
doctor, through whom he benignantly administered the world of the yacht.
Doctor Cromarty had a face which imparted nothing and yet implied
everything. He said less and meant more than even the average pure-blooded
Scotsman. It was imparted that Mr. Gilman had a chronic complaint. The
implications were vast and baffling.
"We shall dance after all," said Miss Thompkins, bending with a mysterious
gesture over Audrey, who reclined in a deck-chair near the companion
leading to the deserted engine-room. Miss Thompkins was dressed in lacy
white, with a string of many tinted beads round her slim neck. Her tawny
hair was arranged in a large fluffiness, and the ensemble showed to a
surprised Audrey what Miss Thompkins could accomplish when she deemed the
occasion to be worthy of an effort.
"Shall we? What makes you think so, dear?" absently asked Audrey, in whom
the scene had induced profound reflections upon life and the universe.
"He'll come up on deck," said Miss Thompkins, disclosing her teeth in an
inscrutable smile that the moonbeams made more strange than it actually
was. "Like to know how I know? Sure you'd like to know, Mrs. Simplicity?"
Her beads rattled above Audrey's insignificant upturned nose. "Isn't a
yacht the queerest little self-contained state you ever visited? It's as
full of party politics as Massachusetts; and that's some. Well, I didn't
use all my medicine you gave me. Didn't need it. So I've shared it with
_him_. I got the empty packet with all the instructions on it, and I put
two of my tablets in it, and if he hasn't swallowed them by this time my
name isn't Anne Tuckett Thompkins."
"But you don't mean he's been----"
"Audrey, you're making a noise like a goose. 'Course I do."
"But how did you manage to----"
"I gave them to Mr. Price, with instructions to leave them by
the--er--bedside. Mr. Price is a friend. I hope I've made that plain these
days to everybody, including Mr. Gilman. Mr. Price is a good sample of
what painters are liable to come to after they've found out they don't care
for the smell of oil-tubes. I knew him when he always said 'Puvis' instead
of 'Puvis de Chavannes.' He's cured now. If I hadn't happened to know he'd
be on board I shouldn't have dared to come. He's my lifebuoy."
"But I assure you, Tommy, Mr. Gilman refused the stuff from me. He did."
"Oh! Dove! Wood-pigeon! Of course he refused it. He was bound to. Owner of
a two-hundred-and-fifty-ton yacht taking a remedy for sea-sickness in
public on the two-hundred-and-fifty-ton yacht! The very idea makes you
shiver. But he'll take it down there. And he won't ask any questions. And
he'll hide it from the doctor. And he'll pretend, and he'll expect
everybody else to pretend, that he's never been within a mile of the
stuff."
"Tommy, I don't believe you."
"And he's a lovely man, all the same."
"Tommy, I don't believe you."
"Yes, you do. You'd like not to, but you can't help it. I sometimes do
bruise people badly in their organ of illusions-about-human-nature, but it
is fun, after all, isn't it?"
"What?"
"Getting down to the facts."
Accompanied by the tattoo of her necklace, Miss Thompkins moved away in the
direction of Madame Piriac, who was engaged with Musa.
"Admit I'm rather brilliant to-night," she threw over her shoulder.
The dice seem to be always loaded in favour of the Misses Thompkins of
society. Less than a quarter of an hour later Doctor Cromarty, showing his
head just above the level of the deck, called out:
"Price, ye can wind up that box o' yours. Mr. Gilman is coming on deck.
He's wonderful better."