Popularity
And now behold C. B. launched upon a totally new series of adventures,
but still with that same quiet mind which accepted the events of each
new day as being all ordained by God, and consequently fraught with
blessing, no matter how hard it might be for him to see the benefit at
the time. Hitherto I have said nothing about his feelings with regard
to those whom he so fondly loved and from whom he had of course heard
no word. But when he left them both he and they had resigned themselves
to a complete separation without any communication until God should
please to reunite them again. Letters never came to that isolated,
self-contained little community, who indeed seldom had any interest
outside of their own boundaries.
Yet it must not be supposed that for one day, hardly for a waking hour,
he ever forgot them. In his lonely vigils at the mast-head, or when by
himself at night, he looked out over the wide expanse of sea, he always
formed a mental picture of the peaceful happy home he had left, saw his
mother and father and friends at their simple tasks, heard their united
praises arising in the sweet evenings, imagined their discussions
concerning his whereabouts, until he almost fancied himself among them
in spirit, so vivid was his inner vision. And often it was with a
physical pang that he came back to his present surroundings.
It must not for a moment be supposed either that he felt great delight
at leaving the ship, for he was in no way weary of his life on board.
But he calmly awaited each development as being just the right thing
for him, and indeed felt that in this latest move he was likely to be
of more use than he had ever been before. Besides, as I have before
hinted, he and his fellow-islanders were passionately attached to
the mother-country which they had never seen, and had consequently
idealized almost out of all reasonable recognition. The nearest
approach to realization of Britain that they could get was found in
a British man-o’-war, and when he stepped on board of the _Fame_ and
saluted the invisible presence on the quarter deck, he felt strangely
uplifted at the thought that he was privileged to sail in one of those
wonderful vessels.
With greatest kindness and courtesy Captain Taber had been carried to a
cabin specially prepared for him; everything that he could want as far
as was in their power to supply it was at his disposal, and when C. B.
had got him comfortably bestowed and his belongings all safely at hand
he said--
“Thank ye, dear fellow, now go and leave me to sleep, for I feel very
tired, and you’ll be glad, I know, to see what’s going on about the
deck, all so different to what you’ve been used to.” So C. B. slipped
away and watched with a queer feeling of pride, as if he had a share
in the great business, the ordered method of getting under weigh, the
rapidity which characterized every evolution and the perfect discipline.
Seaman-like his fingers itched to be helping, but he knew better than
to interfere, and moreover everything was so utterly strange and new.
Not the least wonderful of his new surroundings to him was the steam
engine. It is hard indeed for us to realize what it meant to this
intelligent man, British to the back-bone, and in some directions well
educated, but in others, notably in the appliances of civilization, as
ignorant as any savage from the island homes of his maternal ancestors.
His gentle ways and pleasant speech soon made him a prime favourite,
and though the lower deck was mightily puzzled at his strange
dislike to grog and tobacco, they put it down simply to his want of
acquaintance with those luxuries. Anyhow they made a great pet of
him, and listened to his simple stories of island life and whaling,
interspersed as they were with loving reference to the Fatherly care
of God and the happiness of knowing Him, with growing interest and
appreciation. Nor was this interest confined to the lower deck. The
officers were just as keen, and though thoughtless and careless as
so many sailors are who feel that religion enters officially into
their lives at stated times, but need not be bothered about except
then, they all admitted that this young man was to them a new type
altogether outside their experience. Some scoffed at the idea of his
being genuine, saying that it was all put on for a certain purpose,
and watched him keenly to detect hypocrisy. But it was impossible to
maintain such an attitude towards him for long, in view of his perfect
devotion to his charge and his absolute lack of pose.
He fell eagerly into his new role of nurse and valet, and the captain
grew to lean on him more and more each day, to long for his pleasant
words and to enjoy, in a measure that seemed to him amazing when he
thought about it, the simple reading of the Bible stories and the
common-sense comment, often quaint beyond description, that C. B.
indulged in. Only it made the matter real and vivid to the mind of the
listener as it had never been before, brought him face to face with
the actors in the great world drama unfolded in that amazing series of
stories, and above all made him wonder how it had been possible for him
to live so long in ignorance, and with so much time on his hands, too,
of the treasures contained within the covers of the ordinary little
volume. For let them deny it who dare, the most talked of and the least
intelligently read of any book in the world is the Bible. And from the
point of view of literature alone it does not deserve to be so treated.
In consequence largely of the novelty of the position to the passengers
and the interest felt in them by the crew, the passage of the _Fame_
to Yokohama, though rather long in point of time, was felt to be short
by all, so much so that a distinct sense of disappointment was felt
by all as the time for parting drew near. The sick man, though the
object of devoted attention by the ship’s doctor, fully justified that
gentleman’s prediction by making little or no progress. He could not be
said to be any worse, but his strength would not come back, and he had
many hours of severe pain internally. But his appetite was fairly good
and his spirits had recovered their normal serenity. He had become very
much attached to the ship where he had been so kindly welcomed, and
endeavoured to express his gratitude, but his genial hosts pooh-poohed
the idea of his being under any sort of obligation to them; they said
that his company had been a boon conferred upon them, and that they had
learned more of little understood sea-ways since he and C. B. had been
with them than they had ever dreamed of being possible.
And so they parted with the best of good will on both sides, and a
certain definite effect of goodness impressed upon all hands by their
contact with C. B., which none of them were ever able to forget quite
as long as they lived. Very gently and tenderly the helpless skipper
was conveyed ashore, and to the best hotel in the City, there to await
the coming out of the steamer that sailed between Hong Kong, Yokohama,
and San Francisco. The American Consul had been apprised of Captain
Taber’s coming, and paid him an early visit of condolence and comfort,
promising to do all in his power to aid him, and to convey to Captain
Silchester his most cordial thanks for the timely help rendered to his
suffering countryman.
C. B. was full of wonderment at the new and strange scenes around
him, but saw little of them, for nothing would persuade him to leave
his friend for more than a few minutes at a time. He did not lightly
construe the terms of his service, and when ordered with playful
vehemence by the skipper to go away and leave him to himself for a few
hours he never went beyond an easy call. But he got a great deal of
interest in observing the quaint manners of the Japanese, who seemed
to him to be almost denizens of another world to that which he had
hitherto known. Their courtesy, cleanliness and ability appealed to
him very much, but he wondered with painful intensity how they could
be apparently so happy and good without knowing anything of God. And
then he had an interview with a clerical gentleman belonging to the
Established Church, who was on his travels round the world, and being
an inmate of the hotel called upon the captain.
The latter introduced C. B. as his friend as well as personal
attendant, and Mr. Vinter, the clergyman, made the almost unpardonable
mistake of treating our hero as if he was an ignorant Kanaka, that
is without a touch of kindliness or sympathy as of a being infinitely
high and wise, but without love, to another very low and foolish. C.
B. not being at all sensitive and full of reverence for the man of God
as he thought him, began to talk freely upon the things of God as he
had never been able to do since he left his home, where they were in
everybody’s mouth as the most frequent topic. To his utter amazement
and to the captain’s indignation the clergyman listened for a while
with a gradually contracting brow, and presently said severely--
“You should be less fluent and more reverent about holy things. You
cannot understand them, it is not possible that you should. You must
learn to leave such discussion as you have ventured to indulge in to
those who like myself are set apart as chosen ministers of the Gospel.”
Had it not been so sad it would have been ludicrous to see the
open-mouthed stare of utter amazement with which C. B. regarded his
new mentor. For what he now heard from the mouth of a man whom he was
ready to regard as directly commissioned by God was to the effect that
the whole teaching of his life had been wrong. He dimly felt that this
man wished him to understand that so far from a close acquaintance with
and an intimate knowledge of God and the things of His kingdom being
right and according to His will, it was necessary to regard Him as
unapproachable except through a certain specially ordained class, and
that the sweet familiarity with Jesus which he had always been taught
and had understood from his Testament to be the end and the aim of the
Saviour’s teaching was irreverent and wrong.
And then, to his great relief, the helpless skipper came to his
rescue, saying with clear and energetic voice--
“Forgive me, Mr. Vinter, if I seem rude, and allow me the privilege of
a man with one foot in the grave. I’ve learned more of God in a few
months’ acquaintance with this dear man than in all the rest of my
life. You gentlemen talk about God mostly too in language that a plain
man can’t understand, this man lives Him, has done ever since he came
aboard my ship. I’d rather have him with me, as far as the education of
my soul is concerned, than all the priests and clergy in the world. And
you call him irreverent! But so I s’pose you would have done Peter an’
James an’ John, an’ as for Paul, well there!”
Mr. Vinter made no reply, but rose with majestic gesture as of one who
finds the air polluted and passed out, nor did they ever see him again.
But the captain said cheerily--
“Git your Bible, Christmas, and read me that beautiful story again,
beginning with ‘Then drew near all the publicans and sinners for to
hear Him?’ I bet they did. They recognized the real thing same as I
do, they’d had enough of Pharisees same as I have. And then people
will be foolish enough to wonder why the Gospel don’t spread among the
heathen! Why a man like that might easily make heathen, he’d certainly
never make a Christian, he doesn’t know how to begin. Go on with your
reading, dear boy.”
And in the comfort of the reading and the fellowship of his friend
C. B. felt the wound that had been made in his soul by that foolish
and injudicious man heal over. But he often returned to the subject
and asked many questions of the skipper concerning the ways of the
religious folk in America, and whether it was really true that the
great bulk of the people could be so foolish as to deny themselves so
great a pleasure as he had always found it, and those whom he had grown
up with, but was at last compelled to admit that it must be so though
it was a profound mystery to him.
Happy man, knowing nothing of the thousand allurements of the civilized
world, its mad rush after fortune and no less mad lavishing of its
gettings upon things of no value. Happy in the coarse shirt and
trousers, bare headed and shoeless, but well nourished and healthy, how
could he understand the myriad artificial cravings that shut out from
the soul all desire for true happiness, or how in his perfect faith in
the love of God and His creation could he realize the awful fear of
eternal punishment that prompted men into excesses of religiousness in
order to escape from what they felt was the inevitable due of their
misdeeds. Not knowing how great had been his privileges he was entirely
unable to comprehend the difficulties of highly civilized man in
matters of religion, and so was an ever fresh source of interest to the
crippled man dependent upon him, who felt that he had never had leisure
to think upon these things until now.
But gradually and unconsciously, as was his wont, he had endeared
himself to all with whom he had come in contact in service at the
hotel, so that when the big steamer arrived and the summons came for
them to go aboard he had quite an ovation, all the little yellow men
and women crowded around him in their gentle courteous fashion to wish
him “Sayonara” and to offer him tiny souvenirs of their affection for
the big kindly simple man who was so unlike any other stranger they had
yet seen. In his modesty and utter absence of self-consciousness he
wondered much at his popularity, the real reason of it never occurring
to him, for he had formed no friendships, had gone scarcely anywhere,
feeling that his duty was always to be within hail of his beloved
skipper.
And so in leaving he had no regrets, but cheerfully and hopefully
assisted to carry Captain Taber on board of the _Golden Gate_, where
by the influence of the Consul a special cabin had been reserved for
the pair and all sorts of privileges arranged for also. She had a
great many passengers going eastward to the Pacific Coast, wealthy
folks travelling for pleasure, keen business men intent on making
money, adventurers, but all apparently flush of money and eager for
excitement. Amid this motley throng C. B. secured a good place on deck
for his patient’s long chair, a point wherefrom the wonderful panorama
unfolded as the ship steered seawards could be fully enjoyed. Here
C. B., standing by the skipper’s side, guarded him from inquisitive
intrusion and kept him amused by the quaint and original comments he
made upon the novel scene.
But very soon, in spite of C. B.’s earnest efforts, the captain’s chair
was the centre of a sympathizing and wondering group of Americans,
who, having learned the skeleton of his sad story, were keen in their
desire to help in any way they could a countryman whom they dimly
suspected of being a hero, and that alone is sufficient with the most
hero-worshipping people in the world to have made them flock to him.
At last their attentions became so importunate and the questions so
incessant that Captain Taber, holding up his attenuated hand for
silence, said--
“Ladies and gentlemen, as you may see, I am not equal to the strain of
satisfying your legitimate curiosity, for I’m weaker than I care to
admit even to myself. But if you’ll let my friend here, who, in spite
of his dusky complexion, hasn’t got any of the nigger about him, but
is a sure enough Englishman of the purest stock, tell you the story
just as it happened, I can enjoy it as well as you. An’ I guess that he
knows a good deal more about it than I do anyhow.”
The young ladies, who, as most people who have been in the United
States know, are the usual arbiters in such cases, guessed “it would
be perfectly lovely,” and with national promptitude settled themselves
around at once and looked expectantly at C. B. He looked somewhat
imploringly at the skipper, who only beamed on him and replied--
“Part o’ your duties ye know, Christmas, an’ I guess I don’t know
anybody better qualified to perform ’em.”
That was quite sufficient for C. B., who, having seated himself by the
skipper’s side, commenced the story at the point where he had returned
to work. He had not been speaking a minute before he had everybody
spellbound, for like so many other simple-minded unselfish men he had a
natural gift of plain effective speech, not oratorical or rhetorical,
but what the Americans call heart to heart talk.
For upwards of an hour he held the company almost breathless, and when
at last he ceased with the simple remark “and so through the goodness
of God we are thus far on our long journey,” there was a long breath
and then an irrepressible burst of applause. Many of the ladies made
no attempt to hide the fact that they had to wipe their eyes, and it
would have been hard to say which of the two in their estimation was
the greater hero, the skipper or C. B. And then the skipper brought
matters to a climax by saying--
“You’ve heard the story, ladies and gentleman, beautifully told as
I knew it would be, but far too favourable to me, in spots. As soon
as I’m fit I’ll tell you the parts ’at he’s left out, and a few more
things that you oughter know about him. Meantime let me say before God
and this company that I believe the hull earth don’t contain a better
man, a better Christian, with all that I’ve learned lately that means,
than my dear friend Christmas Bounty Adams.”
Even this short speech, because it was delivered with rather more
energy than usual, exhausted the enfeebled man, and he lay back in his
chair breathless. C. B. immediately attended to him, looking round
imploringly at the onlookers, who, taking the hint, at once melted
away. But they carried away with them material enough for conversation
to last them the passage apparently, the human interest in it entirely
eclipsing that of the usual travel talk. But it must be admitted that
the chief object of interest was C. B.; in the absence of accurate
information concerning him the ladies formulated all sorts of fantastic
theories, the excitement rising almost to fever heat during the
luncheon hour.
At last, when the captain had been conveyed below, one of the girls,
the only daughter of an immensely wealthy American, who was travelling
with her mother and father, came up to C. B. who was resting himself,
looking over the rail at the swiftly receding coast line. With that
sweet insouciance which is the most charming feature of the American
girl, she said--
“Say, Mr. Christmas, or is it Mr. Adams? we’re all just afire to hear
the rest of that story of yours. We don’t want to trouble that poor
captain, it would be too cruel to expect him to talk, but won’t you
take pity on us and tell us your beautiful story?”
C. B. gazed down into the eager face with its big brown eyes and saw no
vulgar curiosity there.
So after a moment or so of hesitation he replied, “Miss----”
“Oh, May Stewart’s my name,” she hastily remarked.
“Thank you, Miss Stewart,” he gravely interpolated and went on: “My
dear mother always taught me to try and please people who didn’t want
me to do anything wrong, and I am sure you don’t want me to do anything
wrong. So I’ll tell you my story as far as I can, on the understanding
that I’m free to leave off at any moment my captain wants me, for he is
a sacred helpless charge.”
“That’s agreed on the instant,” she replied, “and I’ll bring the crowd
along right now. I’m real glad, and I think it’s awfully good of you,
for I do hate to be kept waiting for something that I feel I ought to
know.”
“One moment, Miss Stewart,” said C. B., holding up a restraining hand.
“If you’ve been weaving a mighty romance out of my story and making me
its hero you’ll be gravely disappointed. All right, I’m ready whenever
you are.”
Away fled the young lady, while C. B. took the opportunity of visiting
his patient’s airy cabin to make sure that he was sleeping soundly and
that everything about him was comfortable. Then he returned to the
promenade deck, where such had been the energy of Miss Stewart that
practically every passenger in the ship was present with the exception
of half a dozen inveterate poker players who, I believe, would keep on
at the monotonous business if the first notes of the last trump were
ringing in their ears. As soon as Miss Stewart saw C. B. she sprang
impetuously towards him, dragged him through the crowd to an elevated
seat she had got the quartermaster to prepare for him, and having seen
him comfortably installed, sat down on deck by the side of her mother
and waited for him to begin.
You all know the story, but of course as he told it much of the
interest attaching to his doings evaporated because he would not say I
did this or I did that, a modesty which he shared with many far less
estimable men. But he did tell them all he could put into words about
his lovely island home, his origin, the pursuits of the islanders
and their happiness under the simple gospel of love. He told this
with a manly simple eloquence which captivated his hearers and made
even the most cynical and case-hardened of them feel that here was an
idyllic state of things which was unknown to their cheap and feverish
philosophies wrongly so called. And when at last he finished, so great
was the interest that many questions were put to him by the elder
men and women, all of which he answered with ease or owned that he
didn’t know. How long this would have gone on only those who know the
insatiable avidity of Americans in acquiring information upon some new
topic could imagine, but happily for C. B. there suddenly appeared on
the scene a Japanese waiter with the news that the captain was awake.
And immediately C. B. slipped away.
Thenceforward this quiet unassuming child of nature was the idol of the
ship. “Guess it’s a complete rest-cure to be near him,” was the verdict
of one sallow owner of about a million dollars, who was fascinated by
C. B. to such an extent that he forswore poker, and courted every
chance to get a few words with a man whom he felt had the true secret
of happiness. “Now,” said this keen business man, “ef this chap was
advertising himself or startin’ a new religion, I’d be on to him in
once, bigger ’n a elevator. But he ain’t, ’s far ’s he knows he’s the
most ornery cuss there is around. ’N ’s far ’s I know he’s about the
newest breed o’ man there is, an’ I’d like t’ get the recipe for a few
more like him.”
But the girls gave C. B. the most trouble. It was hard to convince them
that he was not the descendant of some dusky island potentate. That
he was but the offspring of a common English seaman and some nameless
Kanaka woman two or three generations back seemed impossible for them
to believe, for they were never tired of descanting upon the stately
grace of his form and the perfect unstudied beauty of his language.
Secretly too they were all piqued by the fact that he paid none of them
any special attention, was only gravely polite in a perfectly general
sense. To the men though who sought him out and talked with him he was
extremely open and genial, telling them frankly that he felt honoured
by their condescension, until one day the captain, hearing him speak
like this took him to task about it.
“Christmas,” he said, “they’s such a thing as bein’ too humble, makin’
yerself too cheap. You’ve no call to be so humble to these men. I ain’t
got nothing to say against any of ’em, but I should say they ain’t one
of ’em that’s fit to shine the boots of a good man like you are. Why,
they don’t talk of nothin’ else, mornin’ noon or night, ’cept they’re
talkin’ t’ you, but dollars and cents, how to pile ’em up as fast as
they kin no matter by what method. Money’s their God, Christmas, and
his worship means some practices that you’d shudder at. No, keep yer
head up, my friend, you’ll never git too big fer your boots I’m sure,
for I declare you’re the equal of any and the superior of most men in
this world.” And the excited man sank back in his chair exhausted,
while C. B. gently reproved him for thus exerting himself, and as soon
as he was rested again told him quaintly how bashful he felt before the
girls, especially Miss Stewart, who continually sought his company.
“How should I behave to them?” he inquired, at which the Captain
laughed and replied--
“Ah, there I can’t give ye no advice, except to be mighty careful not
to fall in love with one of ’em. I guess you wouldn’t want no lessons
in humility if once you did that. For companionable as all these folks
seem to be and eager to make a fuss of ye, if once you lifted your
eyes to one of their women folk so as to desire her for a wife, they
wouldn’t have words enough t’ cuss ye in, an’ they’re pretty glib as a
rule.”
“Well, captain,” said C. B., “there’ll be no occasion. I am not at all
likely to fall in love, as you call it, until I get back to Norfolk
Island again, and certainly not while I have the happy privilege of
taking care of you, God bless you.”