velvet ones either, on board this boat or her tender. I suppose, if
you're not going to steer, you mean to occupy yourself in your studio,
painting. A wise arrangement----"
"From your point of view. But it isn't my intention. I shall--if the
ladies don't object--sit mostly on 'Lorelei's' deck, making sketches,
and entertaining them as well as I know how--though not with technical
information."
"I shall be there to give them that, if they want it," said I.
"_You?_ You'll have to be at the bow, skippering."
"I don't skipper at the bow, thank you. I skipper on deck aft, where I
stand at the wheel and have full control of the engine through this long
lever that's carried up from the engine-room."
"Hang it, I thought Hendrik, as chauffeur, would have to be there, and
you'd keep a sort of outlook with a binnacle or something, for'rard. You
_are_ going to be a regular Albatross to my Ancient Mariner, aren't
you?"
"Don't forget that it's by grace of the Albatross that you're a Mariner
at all."
"I shall call you 'Alb,' when I feel your weight too much," said Starr,
and then we two villains of the piece could not forbear a grin in each
other's faces. I even found myself wondering if the Ancient One and his
Bird might not form for one another a kind of attachment of habit, in
the end.
It's certainly a queer association, this of ours, but as the Mariner
proposed to do, we began to make the best of it; and we finished my
visit to the boat on outwardly friendly terms. We even sat on deck and
put our heads together over my note-book, in which I jotted down a plan
of the tour. With "Lorelei," I assured him, we had but to choose our
route, for as she draws only from three to three and a half feet of
water, all the waterways are open to us. Did she draw more, she would be
useless, even in certain rivers, in a dry season such as this is
proving, and in many small canals at any season. There's only one thing
which may bother us in the Frisian Meers, where we can't shove with a
quant pole, or if we venture out to sea: we have no means of propulsion
except the motor, and as we carry no mast, we cannot set so much as a
yard of canvas. If anything should go wrong with the motor, brilliant
"Lorelei" will instantly become a mere hulk at the mercy of wind and
wave. However, as Starr remarked sagely, we can stop in port for wind
and wave, and be very happy.
As we talked, down on a page of my note-book went a roughly sketched map
of Holland, my idea being to begin with Gouda, going on to Leiden,
slipping through the villages of South Holland, which seem strange to
travelers, and skirting the great polder that was once the famed
Haarlemmer-Meer. Then, having seen Haarlem sitting on her throne of
flowers, to pass on, giving a few days to Amsterdam and interesting
places in the neighborhood, watery market-towns and settlements of the
merchant princes. Next in order the curious island of Marken, and the
artists' haunts at Volendam. From there, to turn toward the north and
the Dead Cities of the Zuider Zee, crossing afterwards to Friesland in
search of beauties in golden helmets, and lingering for a while among
the Frisian Meers. Later, we might work our way through Holland's most
desolate and savage province, Drenthe, to the hills of Gelderland (my
native country), and finish the trip with a grand climax in Zeeland,
most mysterious and picturesque of all, half hidden in the sea.
I traced the proposed route for Starr, telling him that we could do such
a tour in five weeks or eight, according to the inclinations of the
travelers, and the length of time they cared to spend in each place. As
to that, the ladies must decide, I said, and choose whether they would
sleep each night on "Lorelei," or see more of Dutch life by going to
hotels. But, in any case, I must plan to bring the boat each evening
near enough civilization to obtain supplies.
"A good itinerary," said the Mariner, approving his Albatross, "but I
warn you I shall claim half the credit. When you see me swaggering, and
hear me boasting of the plans my friend Brederode and I have mapped out,
contradict me if you dare. I _will_ defy you in some things, or I shall
burst of sheer spite; and we can test it now, if you like, for here they
come."
It was true. They were in a cab, with luggage under the driver's feet. I
had let time slip away, forgetting that I meant to escape before five,
when Starr had told me they were due.
But I was determined not to meet them now. There was still time for Miss
Van Buren to find some excuse and wreck the tour, if she were annoyed by
my obstinate determination to know her. To-morrow there will not be
time, unless she cares to make a scene; and I don't think she is a girl
to make scenes.
"No. I'll leave your friends to you, for the present," said I. "We ought
to start by ten to-morrow, and I'll be on hand at nine."
"I know not whether to curse or bless you," said the Mariner. But I gave
him no time to do either. I was off, and out of the way before I could
be noticed and recognized by the occupants of the cab. Then, back to the
Club I came to write a short letter to Robert, and to jot down a few
happenings for my own benefit later.
X
It was nine in the morning--a clean-washed morning of blue and
gold--when I arrived on board "Lorelei," with a small box which my man
brought me from Liliendaal, according to telegraphed orders.
No one was there but the chauffeur, though on board the barge
"Waterspin" the "handy man" had arrived, and was settling into his new
quarters. Toon de Jongh is his name, and I conceived a liking for his
grave brown face, at sight. I know his type well, a type which excels in
deeds, not words, and was bred in the Low Countries by certain policies
of Philip Second of Spain. He liked me too, for some reason or other, I
saw by his eyes, in a way one never mistakes but can never explain.
I had to find my quarters on the barge, and going below, on the first
door I saw a visiting card of Mr. Ronald L. Starr's conspicuously
pinned, with the one word "Alb" printed large upon it, in red ink.
Chuckling, I took possession of the cabin, hauled my things out from my
box, and had got them mostly packed in lockers and drawers, when I heard
the sound of voices on "Lorelei."
She was there. What would she say when she discovered that the man she
had "thanked enough and didn't want to see again" had foisted himself
upon her party?
The evil moment couldn't be postponed for long. I might give them time
to go below, and add the contents of their dressing-bags to the
belongings they had bestowed in the cabins yesterday afternoon, but that
would take fifteen minutes at most, and then they would be wanting to
start. I should have to get on board "Lorelei," be introduced, and face
the music, whether it played the "Rogue's March," or "Hail, the
Conquering Hero!"
The sound of girls' laughter was so upsetting that I couldn't decide
what to do with my collars and neckties. I wandered aimlessly about the
cabin with my hands full, grumbling aloud, "What an ass you are!" and
hadn't yet made up my mind to cross over to "Lorelei" when Starr pounded
on the half-open door.
"Thank goodness, you're here!" he exclaimed, as the door fell back and
revealed me.
"What has happened to make you give thanks?" I asked, disposing
hurriedly of the neckties.
"Any port in a storm--even Albport. And there _is_ a storm, an awful
storm; at least "Lorelei's" staggering about as if she were half-seas
over, and if you don't get us off at once every soul on board will be
lost, or, what's worse, seasick. A nice beginning for the trip!"
I am so much at home on the water that I hadn't noticed the tossing and
lolloping of the barge, but I realized now what was the matter. The
morning was fresh, with a gusty wind blowing up the Maas, against the
tide running strongly out; and consequently little "Lorelei" and sturdy
"Waterspin" strained at their moorings like chained dogs who spy a bone
just beyond their reach.
I didn't stop to answer, but bolted off the barge and onto the
motor-boat.
Toon and Hendrik cast off the moorings, the chauffeur flew below to set
his engine going; I took the wheel, pushed over the starting lever, the
little propeller began to turn, and we were away on the first of the
watery miles which stretch before us, for joy or sorrow.
Starr had followed Hendrik below, and just as the motor was getting well
to work, revolving under my feet at the rate of six hundred revolutions
a minute, I heard his voice shouting----
"Hullo, hullo! catch the dog!--you up there."
At the same instant arose a babel of cries, "Oh, my angel! Don't let him
drown! Save him!" and the Emperor Tiberius shot up the companion as if
launched from a catapult. Unused to engines and a life on the wave,
frightened by the teuf-teuf of the motor, his next bound would have
carried him overboard into the river; but hanging on to the wheel with
one hand, with the other I seized the dog by the collar--a new,
resplendent collar--just as somebody else, rushing to the rescue from
below, caught him by the tail.
It was Miss Van Buren.
For a second--I bending down, she stretching up--our faces were
neighbors, and I had time to see her expression undergo several
lightning changes--surprise, incredulity, and a few others not as easy
to read--before she retired, leaving Tibe to me. Instead of coming up on
deck as she had evidently intended to do, she vanished, and a head
exquisitely hatted and blue-veiled appeared in place of hers.
A moment later the tiny lady of the arbor, transformed into Parisian
elegance by an effective white yachting costume, with a coquettish blue
yachting-cap on her gray hair, the goggling effect of the glasses
softened by the floating folds of azure chiffon, arrived to succor her
beloved. She started slightly, staring at me through veil and
spectacles, and I deduced that whatever Starr had told his "aunt" about
the skipper, it had not prepared her to meet the man of the arbor. Those
hidden eyes recognized me, and took in the situation.
Under their fire I realized that the success of my adventure might
largely depend upon the chaperon; and if, suspecting something more than
met her gaze, she should strike an attitude of disapproval, she could
prejudice the girls against the skipper, and so manoeuver that he had
his trouble for his pains.
With this danger ahead, I redoubled my attentions to Tiberius; but it
was fortunate for me that the doubts he entertained of the man in the
arbor were chased away by gratitude for the man on the boat. If it had
not been so, such is the primitive sincerity of dog kind--especially
bulldog kind--no bribe in my power to offer could have induced him to
dissimulate. I knew this, and trembled; but Tibe, being an animal of
parts, was not long in comprehending that the hand on his collar meant
well by him. He deigned to fawn, and meeting his glance at close
quarters, I read his dog-soul through the brook-brown depths of the
clear eyes. After that moment, in which we came to a full understanding
one of the other, once and for all, I knew that Tibe's wrinkled mask,
his terrible mouth, and the ferocious tusks standing up like two
stalagmites in the black, protruding under jaw, disguised a nature
almost too amiable and confiding for a world of hypocrites. Tragic fate,
to seem in the shallow eyes of strangers a monster of evil from whom to
flee, while your warm heart, bursting with love and kindness, sends you
chasing those who avoid you, eager to demonstrate affection! Such a fate
is destined to be Tibe's, so long as he may live; but in this first
instant of our real acquaintance he felt that I at least saw through his
disguise; and under the nose and spectacles of his mistress he sealed
our friendship with a wet kiss on my sleeve.
"Good boy!" said I, and meant it. He had given me a character, and had
placed me upon a sound footing with one who would be, I foresaw, a Power
on "Lorelei."
"Thank you _so_ much!" said she, with the promised burr-r so pronounced
in her accent that she must, I thought, have spent the night in
practising it. She then carefully selected the best chair, and took from
another a blue silk cushion which matched her yachting-cap and veil.
As she sat down, making a footstool of Tibe, and displaying two
exquisitely shod feet in brand new suede shoes, Miss Rivers appeared,
pale and interesting.
"I _do_ hope you're better, my poor child," purred the Chaperon.
"Oh, thank you, dear Lady MacNairne, I shall be quite right now we've
started."
This interchange of civilities told that the Mariner's "Aunt Fay" had
already contrived to ingratiate herself with her charges.
Miss Rivers sank into the nearest chair, closing her eyes, while I stood
aloof and turned the wheel; but presently the languid lashes lifted, and
she became conscious of me. Then her eyes grew big. She remembered me
from the day at the Prinzenhof, or the Horse Show, perhaps. Evidently
Starr had not named me yet, nor had Miss Van Buren, in descending after
our brief encounter, put any questions. Whether this boded ill or well,
I could not decide, but longed to get suspense over; and I was not kept
waiting.
I heard Starr's voice below urging Miss Van Buren on deck. "Don't bother
about putting everything away," he said. "Do it later. You must say
good-by to Rotterdam. Who knows what will have happened to us before we
get back?"
It would not be my fault if two of the party were not engaged, I was
thinking hopefully, as Miss Van Buren's eyes--rising from below like
stars above a dark horizon--met mine. There was no recognition in them.
To all appearance oblivious of ever having seen my insignificant
features on land or sea, she came smiling up, on the friendliest terms
with Starr.
The vacant chair, most conveniently placed for her, was close to the
wheel, and I hoped that she would take it. But rather than be thus
trapped, she stepped over Tibe and pushed past her stepsister with an "I
beg your pardon, dear."
The Mariner gave no glance at me, but there was a catch in his voice
which betokened a twinkle of the eye, as he said----
"Aunt Fay, Miss Van Buren and Miss Rivers, I must introduce the friend I
told you about: our skipper, Jonkheer Brederode."
Miss Rivers smiled delightfully, with just such a flush of ingenuous
surprise as I should have liked to see on another face.
"Why, how curious," she exclaimed, "that you should be a friend of Mr.
Starr's! I think we have _almost_ met Jonkheer Brederode before, haven't
we, Nell?"
"_Have_ we?" sweetly inquired Miss Van Buren. "I'm a little
near-sighted, and I've such a wretched memory for faces. Unless I notice
people particularly, I have to be introduced at least twice before it
occurs to me to bow."
"Oh, but, _Nell_," protested Miss Rivers. "Surely you know we saw
Mr.--no, _Jonkheer_ Brederode--with your cousin at the Museum in Delft,
and then afterwards you----"
"People's _clothes_ make so much difference," remarked Miss Van Buren.
"Oh, but I wasn't thinking of your sea adventure, so much as when
Jonkheer Brederode rode in the contest----"
"I'm afraid I was looking at the horses," cut in her stepsister.
If Robert had been on board at this juncture he would probably have
wished to box his cousin's ears, but I had no such desire, though mine
were tingling. In fact, I should have enjoyed boxing Robert's; for I saw
that, with the best intentions in the world (and intentions are
dangerous weapons!), my too-loyal friend had in some way contrived to
make me appear insufferable. Perhaps he'd given the impression that I
had boasted an intention to meet her within a given time, and she took
this for my brutal way of carrying out the boast.
"What is a Jonkheer?" the _pseudo_ Lady MacNairne demanded of Starr.
"I don't know exactly," he admitted.
"_Don't_ you? But, nephew dear, how can you help knowing, when you have
an _old_ friend who is one?"
(Was there a spice of malice in this question?)
"You see, almost ever since I've known him, I've thought of him as Alb,"
Starr explained hastily. "Alb is a kind of--er--pet name."
"I suppose it means something nice in Dutch," said Miss Rivers, in the
soft, pretty way she has, which would fain make every one around her
happy. "But I think Mr. van Buren told us that 'Jonkheer' was like our
baronet; Jonkheer instead of 'Sir,' isn't it?"
"Something of the sort," I answered.
"It sticks in the throat, if you'll excuse me for saying so, like a bit
of crust," remarked Aunt Fay.
"You can all call him Alb," said Starr.
"Why not compromise with Skipper?" asked Miss Van Buren, looking at my
yachting-cap (rather a nice one) with serene impertinence. "We shall
probably never have the pleasure of knowing him on land, so why stumble
over Dutch names or titles? He has come on board 'Lorelei' to be our
skipper, hasn't he? So he would probably prefer to be _called_
'Skipper.'"
Starr leaned down to pat Tibe, shaking all over. "Ha, ha, ha!" he
gasped. "I never _saw_ such a funny tail; I do hope it isn't going to
give me hysterics."
But nobody else laughed, and Miss Rivers was gazing at her stepsister in
a shocked, questioning way, her violet eyes saying as plainly as if they
spoke----
"My darling girl, what possesses you to be so rude to an inoffensive
foreigner?"
I should have liked to ask the same question, in the same words; but I
said nothing, did nothing except turn the wheel with the air of that
Miller who grinds slowly but exceedingly small, and smile a hard,
confident smile which warned the enemy----
"Oh yes, you _are_ going to know me on land, and love me on land, so you
might as well make up your mind to what has to come."
She caught the look, which forcibly dragged hers down from my hat-brim,
and I am convinced that she read its meaning. It made her hate me a
degree worse, of course; but what is an extra stone rolled behind the
doors of the resisting citadel, or a gallon more or less of boiling oil
to dash on the heads of the besiegers? If they are determined, it comes
to the same thing in the end.
Fortunately for the spirits of the other players who were "on" in this
scene (in a subordinate capacity), the fair Enemy was not of the nature
to sulk. True, of free will she did not address me; but having shown her
opinion of and intentions toward the person deserving punishment, she
did not weary her arm with continued castigation. Instead, she gave
herself up heart and soul to delight in her first taste of "botoring."
She basked in it, she reveled in it; had she been a kitten, I think she
would have purred in sheer physical enjoyment of it.
"_My_ boat! My _boat_!" she repeated, lingering over the words as if
they had been cream and sugar. "Oh, I wonder if it _knows_ it's My Boat?
I wish it could. I should like it to get fond of me. I _know_ it's
alive. Feel its heart beat. What Tibe is to Lady MacNairne, 'Lorelei' is
going to be to me. We never lived before, did we, Phil? And aren't you
glad we came? Who knows what will become of us after this, for we
certainly never can go home again and take up life where we left it
off."
"You shan't. I'll see to that," I said to myself; but this time she was
not looking even at the brim of my cap. Her eyes, luminous with
childlike happiness, searched and photographed each new feature of
river-life that skimmed swiftly past us.
"We might become motor-boat pirates," she went on. "There'd be no
anti-climax about that; and I dare say we could make a living. We'd
hoist the black flag whenever we came to a nice lonely stretch of water,
with a rich-looking barge or two, or a fine country house on shore, and
the work would begin. Tibe would terrorize our victims. But, speaking of
the black flag, I see the star-spangled banner floats o'er the deck of
the free and the cabins of the brave. How charming of you to think of
putting it there, Mr. Starr! It would never have occurred to me."
"It would have been charming, if it _had_ occurred to me," said the
Mariner; "but it didn't."
"Perhaps our skipper can explain the mystery," remarked the Chaperon,
graciously.
I smiled. "I happened to have the little silk flag," said I, "and as the
owner of the boat is an American, I took the liberty of flying her
colors from the mast to-day; they went up early this morning. But we
have another flag with us for emergencies--that of my Sailing and Rowing
Club,--which, when we show it, will give us the right to enter
sluices--or locks, as you call them--ahead of anything else."
"Alb, you have your uses," observed the Mariner. "Why can't we keep your
flag up all the time--under the Stars and Stripes?"
"It wouldn't be fair to make use of it except in extreme cases," I said.
"All these lighter and bargemen whom we see have their living to get.
Time's money to them, while it's pleasure to us. It's right that they
should get through ahead, when they're first comers; but there may be
occasions when we shall need our advantage; and till then I'll keep the
flag up my sleeve, with your permission."
"I never thought to feel so _safe_ on a motor-boat," exclaimed Miss
Rivers. "Since we made up our minds to come--or rather Nell made up
hers--I've added another prayer to those I've been accustomed to say for
years--that we shouldn't blow up, or, if we _had_ to blow up, that we
shouldn't realize long enough beforehand to be frightened; and that we
should blow into quite little pieces which couldn't know anything about
it afterwards. But now I've such a peaceful feeling, I have to make
myself remember that any instant may be my last."
"I wouldn't try," said Miss Van Buren. "I suppose, when one thinks of
it, worse things could happen to one on a motor-boat than in a
motor-car, because there's water all round; but it seems so heavenly
restful, rather like motoring in heaven might be, and no frightened
horses, or barking dogs, or street children to worry you."
"I pity people on steamboats, just as the other day, when we motored, I
pitied people in stuffy black trains," said Miss Rivers. "But I don't
pity the people on lighters and barges. Don't they look delightful? I
should love to live on that one with the curly-tailed red lion on the
prow, and the green house with white embroidered curtains and
flower-pots, and sweet little china animals in the windows. It's called
'Anna Maria,' and oh, it's worked by a _motor_!"
"Lots of them are, nowadays," I said. "They're easy to rig up, and save
work. I happen to know 'Anna Maria,' and the lady she's named after, who
lives on board and thinks herself the happiest woman on earth--or water.
There she goes, on her way to the kitchen, with her baby in her arms.
Pretty creatures both, aren't they?"
"Pictures!" cried Miss Rivers; and her stepsister, who at the moment was
being particularly nice to the Mariner (I fancy by way of showing the
Outcast how nice she can be--to others), glanced up from a map of
Holland, which Starr had opened, across his knees. "It's like a very
young Madonna and Child, painted by a Dutch master. I wish you could
introduce us."
"Perhaps I will, when we come back this way," said I. "You shall go on
board and have tea with Anna Maria and her baby, and the husband too,
who's as good-looking as the rest of the family. They would be
delighted, and proud to show off their floating home, which saved Anna
Maria's life."
"How? It sounds like a story."