EVAN LOSES A ROUND
Evan, somewhat crestfallen, went out on deck and lit a cigarette. "Oh,
well, it can't last forever," he told himself. He found a seat near an
open window where he could overhear the story. To his mind Corinna had
not much of a talent for it. He thought he could have told a better
one himself. It was the chronicle of an unpleasantly good little girl,
and when Corinna was gravelled for matter to continue with, she filled
in by lengthily describing the heroine's clothes. "Just filibustering
like the U. S. Senate," thought Evan disgustedly.
Corinna, suspecting perhaps that she had too critical a listener,
changed her seat on the pretext of a draught and he could hear no more.
Meanwhile the good ship _Ernestina_ was industriously wig-wagging her
walking-beam down the upper Bay. She was a quaint, crablike little
craft. Her tall and skinny smokestack was like a perpetual exclamation
point. Her gait resembled that of a sprightly old horse who makes a
great to-do with his feet on the road but somehow gets nowhere. At the
end of each stroke of her piston she seemed to stop for an instant and
then with a wheeze and a clank from below, and a violent tremor from
stem to stern, started all over. Her paddle-wheels kicked up alarming
looking rollers behind, but with it all she travelled no faster than a
steam canal-boat. Not that it mattered; the children got just as much
ozone as on the deck of the _Aquitania_.
Evan's patience was not inexhaustible. By the time they reached
Norton's Point he was obliged to go in to see how the story was
progressing. It was no nearer its end, as far as he could judge.
Corinna's Dorothy Dolores was donning a party dress of pink messaline
with a panne velvet girdle. The children's interest flagged and they
drifted away, but there were always others to take their places.
Ikey O'Toole and his pal happened to pass through the saloon bound on
some errand of their own, and Evan had a wicked idea. "Come here,
boys," said he, "and I'll tell you a story about robbers."
Their eyes brightened. Evan took a seat opposite Corinna's and began:
"There was a band of train-robbers and cattle-rustlers who lived in a
cave out in Arizona, and they had for a leader a guy named
Three-fingered Pete. Pete could draw a gun quicker with his three
fingers than any other man with five."
And so on. There was magic in it. Let it not be supposed that little
girls are proof against a story of robbers however they may make
believe. They came drifting across the saloon. In ten minutes there
were twenty children surrounding Evan, while Corinna's audience had
dwindled to four and they were restive. Corinna kept on. Her pale,
calm profile revealed nothing to Evan, but he doubted if she were pale
and calm within. Corinna was not red-headed for nothing.
When her hearers were reduced to two she abruptly rose. Evan wondered
if sweet Dorothy Dolores had been brought to a violent end. He got up
too.
"To be continued in our next," he said.
"Aw, Mister! Aw, Mister!" they protested, clinging to his coat.
"After lunch," he promised, freeing himself, and hastening down the
saloon after Corinna.
He thought he had her cornered in the bow, but she dropped into a seat
beside a woman with a sick baby and enquired how it was getting on.
The two women embarked on what promised to be an endless discussion of
the infant's symptoms. Evan felt decidedly foolish, but stubbornly
stood his ground.
Denton unexpectedly came to his assistance. "Miss Playfair," he said,
"I've got a seat for you in the dining-room, and one for Mr. Weir.
Won't you come down now?"
Two seats! Together, naturally. Evan's heart went up with a bound.
But Corinna was not going to be led into any such trap. She asked the
woman beside her if she had had her lunch. The answer was a shake of
the head.
"Then I'll hold the baby, and you go with these gentlemen," said
Corinna blandly.
"Let me hold the baby," said Evan.
"Oh, thank you, sir; but he don't like men."
Evan went down with Denton and the woman, but he did not mean to be put
off so easily. Seeing the crowd in the dining-saloon, he said:
"They're rushed here. Let me help serve for a while. Save two seats
when Miss Playfair comes down."
"Sure," said Denton amiably.
Down the length of the lower saloon there was a double row of tables,
each with an end to the side wall. Every seat was taken. In addition
to Denton the waiters were Anway and a black-haired youth with a hot
eye who greeted Evan with a frank scowl. Denton introduced him as
Tenterden. "Another of Corinna's 'brothers'," thought Evan. "The boat
is manned with her family!" He turned in to help with a will.
Nearly an hour passed before Corinna appeared for her lunch, and the
dining-saloon was beginning to empty. Seeing Evan there, she naturally
supposed he had finished eating and had remained to help. She took a
seat next the window at one of the tables, and thus protected herself
on one hand. Indicating the chair on the other side of her she said to
Denton:
"Sit here. You can be spared now."
"Thanks, but I promised this seat to Weir," said Denton innocently.
Corinna bit her lip. The said Weir made haste to slip into the seat,
before anything further could be said. Corinna quickly started a
conversation with a youth across the table, another helper, and
supposedly a "brother"--at least he looked at Corinna with sheep's eyes.
Evan, determined not to allow himself to be eliminated, said firmly: "I
have not met this gentleman."
Corinna said coldly: "Mr. Domville, Mr. Weir."
Next to Domville sat another helper, an older man with a queer, clever,
bitter face, Mr. Dordess. Some belated mothers made up the tableful.
Anway waited on them. As he placed a plate of soup before Evan with
set face, Evan suspected he would rather have poured it down the back
of his neck. Evan thanked him ironically.
Corinna did her best to keep the conversation of the whole tableful in
her hands, but of course it was bound to escape her sometimes. And
there were lulls. At such moments Evan could speak to her without
anybody overhearing.
"Corinna, what's the use?"
Affecting not to hear him, she asked a question across the table. Evan
patiently bided his time.
"'What's the use?' I said."
"I don't understand you."
"What's the use of trying to evade something that's got to be faced in
the end."
"What's got to be faced?"
"Me."
"Is that a threat?"
"No. You know, yourself, after what happened you owe me an
explanation."
"The explanation is obvious."
"Then I must be very dense."
"If you were the least bit sorry, I could talk to you; but to glory in
it, to try to trade on it----"
"Sorry for what?"
"Oh, of course you have nothing to be sorry for."
"You're talking in riddles. You know I love you."
She laughed three notes. He frowned at the sound.
"It's a funny way you have of showing it," she said. "To try to humble
me further!"
"But you ask for it, Corinna--with your high and mighty way. I told
you that before."
Silence from Corinna.
"I don't know what cause you have to be sore at me," he resumed when he
got another opportunity. "It seems to me I'm the one----"
"Oh, you'll get over it, I suspect."
"Corinna, why did you run away?"
She rolled a bread ball. "Because I was ashamed."
He looked at her in honest surprise. "Ashamed! Of what?"
"You know very well what I mean."
"I swear I do not!"
"I will hate you if you force me to say it."
"I'll take my chance of that," he said grimly.
"Very well. Don't you understand that a person may be carried away for
the moment, and do things and say things that they bitterly regret
afterwards. Of course if you have no standards of right and wrong you
wouldn't understand."
"Thanks for the compliment."
"What happened that night," she went on, "that sort of thing is
horrible to me!"
At last he understood--and frowned, for it was his deepest feelings
that she slandered. But he was not fully convinced that she was
sincere. "Then you lied when you said you loved me?"
"I was carried away. That sort of thing isn't love."
This angered Evan--but he held his tongue. He sought to find out from
her face what she really thought. She looked out of the window.
"Now I hope you understand," she said loftily.
"You have a lot to learn," said Evan, "about love and other things."
"At any rate I hope I have made you see how useless it is to follow
me," she said sharply.
"It is useless," said Evan--"to talk to you," he added to himself.
"When I get you off this confounded steamboat we'll see what we'll see."
"Don't stare at me like that," said Corinna. "It's attracting
attention."
Evan thought: "If there was only another girl on board that I could
rush! That might fetch her!"
Evan saw indeed that Dordess was regarding him quizzically. Of all the
men (saving Denton) Dordess was the only one who did not scowl at Evan.
Evan was not deceived thereby into thinking that he had inspired any
friendliness in this one. It was simply that Dordess was more
sophisticated, and had his features under better control. To create a
diversion, Evan asked him:
"What has your particular job been to-day?"
"Serving at the water-cooler," was the response, with a wry smile, "to
keep down the mortality from colic."
Thereafter Evan took part in the general conversation, and when the
time came to rise from the table, he let Corinna go her way unhindered.
He pitched in with a good will to help wash dishes, and to pack up the
Ozone Association's property in the galley. But let him work and joke
as he might, he won no smiles from the "brothers."
"Lord, if it was me, I'd put up a better bluff to hide my feelings," he
thought.
Later he took over part of the deck to watch and keep the children from
climbing the rails and precipitating themselves overboard. Later
still, as they neared home and the small passengers became weary and
obstreperous, he resumed the tale of the bandits in the saloon to an
immense audience. Evan, perhaps because of his casual air towards the
children, became the most popular man on the boat. He did not try to
win them, and so they were his.
Corinna could not quite fathom his changed attitude towards her.
During the whole afternoon he let her be. More than once he caught her
glancing at him, and laughed to himself. He was taking the right line.
On one occasion the sardonic Dordess joined him on deck. Dordess had
excited more than a passing interest in Evan. He was different and
inexplicable. He had eyebrows that turned up at the ends like a
faun's, giving him a devilishly mocking look. The essence of
bitterness was in his smile. He had the look of a man of distinction,
yet his clothes were a thought shabby. "Clever journalist gone to
seed," was Evan's verdict.
Dordess said very offhand: "How do you like your job of nursemaid?"
"First-rate!" said Evan.
"How did you happen to stumble on our deep-sea perambulator?"
Evan was wary. "I just happened to be passing, and saw the kids
crowding aboard. I stopped to look, and Denton asked me if I wanted a
job."
Dordess cocked one of his crooked eyebrows in a way that suggested he
didn't believe a word of it. Evan didn't much care whether he did or
not.
Dordess said dryly: "Denton said you were a friend of Anway's."
"He misunderstood," said Evan carelessly.
"Are you going to be with us regularly?" asked Dordess with a meaning
smile.
"I only volunteered for to-day." Evan's tone implied that the future
could take care of itself.
Dordess said deprecatingly: "I hope the boys haven't made you feel like
an outsider."
"Not at all," said Evan cheerfully. "I wouldn't mind if they did," he
added. "The main thing is for the kids to have a good time."
"Sure," said Dordess dryly. "You see, the boys get the idea that these
excursions are a sort of family affair, and they're apt to resent the
help of strangers."
"I see," said Evan. "Are you one of Miss Playfair's 'brothers' too?"
"No; I'm an uncle," said Dordess with his bitter smile.
He walked away. There had been nothing in his words to which Evan
could take offence, nevertheless as plainly as one man could to another
he had conveyed the intimation that Evan was not wanted on board, and
that if he ventured on board again it would be at his peril.
"The brotherhood evidently fears that I'm going to break up the
organization," thought Evan.
As they approached the end of their journey Evan began to consider what
measures he should take upon landing. His part was a difficult one to
play with good humour; that is, to force himself on a young lady who
said she detested him, and who had half a dozen brothers and an uncle
to take her part.
"She'll do her best to give me the slip," he said to himself. "When we
tie up I'll stand by the gangway on the pretext of keeping the kids
from falling overboard. Some of them or all of them will take her
home, no doubt. I'll tag along, too. They can't very well openly
order me away, and I don't give a damn for their black looks and
meaning hints. The main thing is to find out where she lives. I can
choose my own time to call. Perhaps she won't open the door to me.
Well, my patience is good."
As they approached the pier Evan went down to the main deck. Corinna
was not visible at the moment. Only the forward gangway of the
_Ernestina_ was used. Her shape was so tubby that she couldn't bring
any two points alongside a straight pier simultaneously. While they
were making a landing all the children were kept roped off in the stern
and up in the saloon. The only persons in the bow space beside Evan
were Denton, Anway, Domville, Tenterden, two other "brothers" and two
deckhands to stand by the lines.
Up forward there was an additional stairway from the saloon. This was
enclosed and had a door at the bottom, locked at the moment to keep the
children out of the way. In the centre of the deck was a hatch for
freight, used presumably when the _Ernestina_ served as a carrier.
As the steamboat sidled up to her pier Evan heard Corinna's voice call
down the stairway: "Oh, Mr. Denton; will you come up here for a moment?"
Denton unlocked the door and disappeared upstairs. The door was locked
after him. At the same moment Domville and one of the unidentified
young men threw back the hatch cover. The latter said: "Let's get the
cargo ashore first."
Evan wondering what cargo the excursion boat could be carrying, stepped
forward in idle curiosity to look down the hatch. Suddenly he became
aware that the young men were circling behind him. Before he could so
much as turn around, he was seized from each side and a hand clapped
over his mouth. With a concerted rush they swept him into the hole in
the deck, falling on their knees at the edge, and letting him drop in.
He fell on a mattress and was not in the least hurt. From above he
heard a loud guffaw from the deckhands. Then the hatch cover was
clapped down, and he heard heavy objects being piled upon it.
Evan raged silently in his prison. Pride restrained him from making
any outcry. He had no fear that his murder was contemplated. They'd
have to let him out again. In the meantime they'd get no change out of
him. And the future could take care of his revenge.
He was in a small cargo space between two transverse bulkheads. He
could touch the beams over his head. The place was perfectly empty
except for the mattress. The mattress suggested that this had been
carefully planned. It was not dark, being lighted by a fixed porthole
on either side, not much bigger than an orange. These lights were only
a foot or two above the waterline, and when the _Ernestina_ reversed
her engine in making the pier, the water washed up over the glass.
Evan could hear all the sounds attendant upon making a landing; the
casting lines thrown ashore, the hawsers pulled over the deck, the
jingle to the engine room signalling that all was fast. Then the
gangway was run out and the feet poured over it.
Evan found that through the porthole on the pier side he was able to
catch a brief glimpse of the passengers as they stepped ashore. He saw
the children scurry away, never dreaming that the admired story-teller
was immured below. The big girls followed more sedately, and after
them the mothers with backs sagging under the weight of babies. Last
of all he had the unspeakable chagrin of seeing Corinna pass with
Denton grasping her arm.
"That's why I was put down here," he thought. "To allow her to make
her getaway."
In the fraction of a second that she was visible to him, her head was
turned back towards the boat. When a woman glances over her shoulder
her true feelings come out; she cannot help herself. There was anguish
in Corinna's backward look. Evan marked it, but he did not love her
then. Not that he meant to give over the pursuit; on the contrary he
swore that she should pay.
Five minutes later the hatch cover was lifted, a short ladder was let
down, and Evan was bidden to come up. He mounted smiling. What that
smile cost him none but he knew. But he also knew that with six or
more against him to show truculence would only have been to make
himself ridiculous. He paused on the deck, and coolly looking around
him, tapped a cigarette on the back of his hand.
Dordess was now with the others. He had the grace to look away, as
Evan's glance swept around. The younger men betrayed in their faces
their hope that Evan would show fight, and thus give them a chance to
justify themselves. Evan saw it, and had no idea of gratifying them.
Tenterden, he of the hot black eyes, who seemed to be leader in this
part of the affair demanded aggressively: "Well, what are you going to
do about it?"
"Much obliged for the mattress," said Evan, coolly meeting his gaze.
"Very thoughtful of you." He counted them ostentatiously. "Six of
you--and a couple of deckhands in reserve. You flatter me, gentlemen!"
He strolled over the gangway. How they took it he did not know, for he
would not look back. At least none of them found a rejoinder. He had
the last word.
"They think they have me scared off," he said to himself. "Just let
them wait till the _Ernestina_ sails again, that's all!"