The packet for the Isle of Wight threaded its way through the traffic
of incoming vessels, and ran by a cruiser that had just come from the
bloodless Trafalgar of German shame, where the second navy of the world
surrendered without a fight.
A man next to me grunted. "It's all right for us to crow," he said;
"but Germany was beaten, and she did the right thing."
I looked at him--he was quite sincere. His hair was unduly long, and he
carried a manuscript case--probably one of the statistical writers
still going strong.
"In your wildest flights of imagination," I said, "even if the combined
fleets of the world were against him, could you picture Beatty leading
the British Navy out to surrender?"
"Supposing he were ordered?"
As if in answer to his question, our course took us by the hull of the
_Victory_, straining at her moorings in the November wind.
"In that case," I said, "Beatty would have had two blind eyes."
Which was the sum total of our conversation until we landed at Ryde,
when our paths diverged, never, I hope, to meet again. Probably, over
the week-end, he was polishing up some powerful articles on the
absurdity of Reconstruction.
By the time the train had reached the little station of St. Louis, just
beyond Ventnor, the wind had blown away any clouds, and the sun was
shining radiantly. As I emerged from my carriage I felt a throb of
exhilaration shoot through my veins, but depart as quickly as it had
come, when I realized how near was the tragedy which I had soon to
witness. I heard my name spoken, and, turning, saw a ruddy-faced,
storm-blown fellow of fifty odd years, whose whole bearing smacked of
nor'-westers and mizzen-tops. When I admitted to my name, he seized my
bag without a word, and started down the road with the swaying motion
peculiar to mariners.
We had hardly gone any distance, when he stopped at a gate which proved
to be the back entrance to a garden, and following him through it, I
was led along a path which was strewn with leaves in all the wealth of
autumnal coloring, while through the trees there was the deep blue of
the sea, flecked with crests of foam. We had gone about fifty yards
when we came upon a cottage, in front of which, on a promontory, was a
neatly trimmed lawn, guarded by six trees that stood like sentinels.
The lower branches had been cut to give a better view, and their
appearance lent a quaintly tropical look to the place, as if they were
palms. In front of the house, fields sloped gradually to the edge of
the cliff, which overlooked the sea beneath.
"My dear old Pest!"
Against the background of trees I had failed to notice him sitting in
an invalid's chair. In three strides I was by his side, his hands in
mine ... but no words came to my faltering lips. For a moment the gray
of his eyes softened to a look of understanding; then the old smile,
just as charming as ever, irradiated his face.
"This is an event," he said, "to be entered in the log.--Sindbad!"
The ex-seaman who had acted as my guide pulled at his forelock.
"Ay, ay, cap'n!"
"Take this gentleman's things to the guestroom upstairs."
"The cabin to starboard? Werry good, cap'n."
Heavens! such a voice! There were fog, gale, piracy, rum, and combat in
it.
"Sindbad," said Norman, in answer to my look, "is one of my
indiscretions--like 'Arcadia.' He turned up here one day with such a
tale of the sea as would have shamed Robert Louis Stevenson at his
best. So far as I can discover, he has been in every naval fight since
Aboukir Bay. He's a bit hazy on the Jutland scrap, but hints darkly at
the possibility of an invasion by Spain. He is convinced that the
_Armada_ is only hiding and waiting its time."
In spite of myself, I laughed.
"As he refused to go, I decided to employ him as a man-of-all-work,
and, as he appeared to have forgotten his own name, I gave him that of
'Sindbad,' which pleased him as much as me. As a result of my engaging
him, the lawn you stand on is the quarter-deck which he never fails to
salute. As nearly as I can discover, we are sailing a perpetual
voyage--you see by this view that the illusion is possible--and we're
living in the imminent danger and hope of an attack by the Spanish. By
the way, old man, would you rather go upstairs and clean up? Are you
cold sitting there? Sometimes, being so comfortable myself, I forget
all about my guests."