THE _ERNESTINA_ AGAIN
The next day was Saturday, and whatever had happened to Evan, he did
not forget that this was the day of the _Ernestina's_ excursion, nor
would he relinquish his determination to take it. In his present sore
and bitter state of mind the prospect of a row was rather welcome than
otherwise.
He timed himself to arrive at the East Twentieth street pier at
nine-twenty, that is to say ten minutes before the steamboat was due to
leave. He found Denton taking tickets at the gangway as before, but it
was a very different face that Denton turned to him this morning;
censure, reproach and apprehension all had a part in his expression.
"He's been filled up with great stories about me," thought Evan. There
was a policeman standing near Denton. Evan's eyes glittered at the
sight of him.
Evan made believe not to notice any change in Denton's manner. "Good
morning," he said cheerfully.
Denton made no reply.
"What can I do to-day?" asked Evan.
Denton shook his head.
Evan affected to be greatly surprised. "Why, what's the matter?"
"I guess you know," the other said sorely.
The policeman stepped up. "Is this the guy as made trouble for you
last trip?" he asked hoarsely.
Denton nodded.
The policeman turned self-righteously on Evan. "Say, fella, you'd
ought to be ashamed of yourself! Don't you know no better than to make
trouble for a charity!"
"You've got me wrong, officer," said Evan sweetly. "I didn't make any
trouble. It was the other fellows made trouble for me!"
"Yes, they did!" was the scornful rejoinder. "That's what they all
say! Well, they're running this show, see? And they don't want you.
So beat it!"
Evan did not suppose that any charge would be pressed against him, but
even if he were arrested and allowed to go, it would end the trip as
far as he was concerned. He decided upon a strategic retreat. A new
idea had occurred to him.
"That's all right, old fellow," he said indulgently. "Don't
apologise." He turned to go.
The policeman turned a shade pinker than his wont. "Don't you get gay,
young fella! I ain't apologising to the likes of you!"
"My mistake," said Evan, laughing over his shoulder. "Keep the change!"
As he passed out of hearing the blue-coat was saying sagely to Denton:
"He's a bad one, all right. You can see it."
When Evan reached the shore end of the pier, he was cut off from the
view of Denton and the policeman by a pile of freight which rose
between. Unobserved by them, he made his way out on the next pier.
This pier like its neighbour was occupied by craft of all kinds,
canal-boats, lighters, scows, etc. Evan came to a stop opposite the
_Ernestina_, and looked about him.
At his feet lay a large power-boat. She had a skiff tied to her rail.
A burly harbourman, the skipper evidently, sat on the forward deck with
his chair tipped back against the pilot-house and his hat pulled over
his nose.
"How are you?" said Evan affably.
"How's yourself?" was the non-committal reply.
"I see you've got a skiff tied alongside," said Evan.
"Remarkable fine eyesight!" said the skipper ironically.
"I'll give you a dollar if you'll put me aboard that steamboat yonder."
"Why the Hell don't you walk aboard by the gangway?"
"Well, you see it's a kind of joke I want to put up on them. I want
them to think they've gone off and left me, and then I'll show myself,
see?"
"I never see nothing as don't concern me."
"I'll make it two dollars."
"I ain't running my head into no noose."
"Oh, I assure you it isn't a hanging matter."
"Nothin' doin', fella."
"Well, look here; you be looking the other way, and I'll take the
skiff, see? Then you won't know anything about it. You can recover it
with one of the other skiffs in the slip here."
"How do I know you won't make off down the river in my skiff?"
"All you've got to do is start your engine."
"Nothin' doin'!"
"You get the two dollars first of course."
The skipper let his chair fall forward and slowly rose. He looked past
Evan. "Hey, Jake!" he cried to one on the pier. "Wait a minute! I
got somepin' t' say to yeh." He stepped to the stringpiece.
Evan thought he had failed--until he saw a hand poked suggestively
behind the skipper. Into it he hastily thrust two dollars. The
skipper nonchalantly went his ways. Evan stepped aboard the power
boat, skinned over the rail, and untied the skiff.
A few strokes of the oars brought him alongside the _Ernestina_. A
steamboat of this type has a wide overhang bounded by a stout timber
called the "guard." When Evan stood up in his skiff his shoulders were
at the level of the guard. But as the ledge it made was only three
inches wide and the gunwale rising above it provided no hand hold, it
was a problem how to draw himself up.
He finally drew the skiff down to the paddle-box where the interstices
of the gingerbread work enabled him to get a grip. As he pulled
himself up he thrust the skiff away with his foot. He climbed back
along the ledge to her stern gangway and vaulting over the rail found
himself on the narrow deck encircling the stern, which is in marine
parlance the "quarter."
All the business of the vessel was on the pier side, and this part was
deserted. The sliding door leading to the entrance hall was closed and
Evan took care to keep out of the range of vision of anyone who might
look out through the panes. He determined to stay where he was until
she got under way. A warning whistle had already been sounded. He
made himself comfortable on a camp stool.
He chuckled to think of the sensation his appearance would cause.
True, they might seize him and put him down in the hold again; they
were strong enough. But at least this time they would not take him by
surprise, and he doubted anyway if they would attack him before the
children. Evan was strong with the children. It might precipitate a
riot on board.
The _Ernestina_ began to back out of the slip without anybody having
stumbled on Evan's hiding-place. By this time the skipper of the power
boat had recovered his skiff, and was watching Evan stolidly. Evan
waved him a farewell.
Evan had no notion of risking all he had gained by venturing out too
soon. He sat tight, entertaining himself as best he could with the
unbeautiful panorama of Long Island City, Greenpoint (which is anything
but green nowadays) and Williamsburgh. They had passed under the
far-flung spans of the three bridges, rounded Governor's Island and
headed down the Bay before he ventured to open the sliding door into
the entrance hall.
At the moment there was no one in the hall who knew him, nor upon the
stairway. He mounted unhindered. At the top he almost collided with
Domville, the meekest of Corinna's brethren.
"How are you?" said Evan affably.
Little Domville stood as if rooted to the deck, his face a study in
blank dismay. Then he turned without a sound, and scurried like a
rabbit down the saloon and out on the after deck, presumably to spread
the dreadful news. Evan chuckled.
Others in the saloon had recognised Evan. "Mister! Mister! Tell us a
story! You know. About the robbers in the cave. They was just going
to shoot Three-Fingered Pete for treachery!"
Evan reflected that he could hardly do better than take a leaf out of
Corinna's book, and protect himself with a rampart of children. So he
sat himself down and began, while they pressed close around:
"Well, Three-Fingered Pete was just about ready to give up when a shot
was heard at the mouth of the cave, and a clear young voice cried,
'Hold! in the name of the U. S. cavalry!'"
The door to the after deck opened and Domville returned with Corinna
and Dordess, the cynical one. Evan watched them without appearing to,
and laughed inwardly at their amazed expressions. His heart beat fast
at the sight of the red-haired girl. He told himself he hated her
now--but perhaps hate can accelerate the pace of a heart too.
For a moment the three remained by the door in consultation, then
Corinna and Domville went out on deck again, while Dordess came down
the saloon, not towards Evan but on the other side. Evan was not going
to let him pass in silence.
"How are you?" he called cheerfully.
Dordess sent him an ironical and courteous greeting. He had more
_savoir faire_ than the younger males of Corinna's family. He passed
out of sight behind the engine trunk.
"Gone to get the others," thought Evan.
But Dordess presently returned alone, and nothing happened. He went
back to the after deck. As the minutes passed, Evan grew anxious, not
knowing what they had in store for him, but he kept the story going.
Suddenly he saw the hump of Staten Island sweep around into view
through the stern windows, and the Statue of Liberty passed by on the
port side. A few minutes before they had left it to starboard. Wails
began to be raised in the cabin. "Oh! We're going back again! What's
the matter? I don't want to go back!" No need for Evan to ask himself
then what they were going to do.
He saw his opportunity when Corinna appearing in the saloon, stopped to
pacify a crying child near the door. Dordess was on the other side of
the saloon. Going to Corinna's side Evan said softly:
"I suppose you're going back to put me ashore."
She did not answer.
He said in the same tone: "Corinna, I will not submit to such a
humiliation a second time."
"You have brought it on yourself," she answered without looking at him.
"Just the same I will not submit to it."
"What are you going to do about it?" she asked scornfully.
"I'll go down to the little deck outside the entrance hall on the port,
that is the left-hand side. I will wait for you there. If you do not
come to me before we pass under Brooklyn Bridge, I'll jump overboard."
She looked at him startled and searchingly. "You can't frighten me
that way," she said proudly.
"I'm not trying to frighten you. I'm making a simple statement. You
know what it is to have a strong will. Very well, others may have as
strong a will as your own. When I say a thing I'd die rather than go
back on it."
Corinna paled, but would not weaken. "I am not your keeper," she said.
"You must do as you will."
"Give me five minutes talk alone with you, and I'll go ashore
willingly. That's all I came for."
"I will not come. You will only make a fool of yourself."
"Very well, you have your choice," said Evan. He turned and went down
the stairway.
Back on his camp-stool on the narrow deck, he felt as a man must feel
after burning his bridges, a little shaky. He knew the lengths to
which a stubborn will may carry a person, and he was not at all sure of
her coming. Not that he meant to draw back; he spoke truth in saying
he would have died first; he was a good swimmer, and he had no serious
doubt of his ability to reach the shore, but he did not fancy being
dragged out on a pier drenched and shoeless, and having to give an
account of himself. And in that case Corinna would win out anyway.
The only way he could really get the better of her would be by
committing suicide, and he was not prepared to go as far as that.
To save time the _Ernestina_ passed through Buttermilk channel between
Brooklyn and Governor's Island. On the New York side the slips of
South Ferry and Hamilton Ferry passed before Evan's eyes, and a little
later Wall street ferry. The bridge was not visible to him where he
sat, but he knew it was looming close ahead; the next ferry-house,
Fulton Ferry, was almost directly under it. Finally he got an oblique
view of the approach to the bridge with the trolley cars and trucks
crawling upon it, and he stooped over to untie his shoes.
Suddenly the _Ernestina_ gave a little lurch, and he looked up to see
what was the matter. She was swinging around again! She turned her
tail to Brooklyn Bridge and started out to sea again. Certainly if
anybody had been following her course that morning they would have been
justified in supposing the Captain to be slightly demented.
Evan laced up his shoes. He grinned to himself in mixed satisfaction
and chagrin. Corinna had found a way to evade the choice he had given
her! True, she had prevented him from jumping overboard, but she had
not come to him. Clearly she preferred to endure his presence on the
boat all day rather than give him five minutes alone with her.
The only thing he could think of to bring her was the power of
curiosity. Perhaps if he stayed where he was she would be forced in
the end to come see what had happened to him. He determined to try it
anyhow.
"But as soon as she looks out of the door and sees me safe, she'll fly
back," he thought. He moved his stool around to the very stern of the
_Ernestina_. Here he was invisible unless one came all the way round
to see.
Here his patience was indeed put to a test. He had nothing to read--he
could not have applied his mind to it, if he had had, and he dared not
smoke for fear of betraying himself. All he could do was to sit and
study the scenery. The _Ernestina_ went back through Buttermilk
channel, and rounded Red Hook. She passed the Erie basin where upon
the boundary fence Evan had the edification of reading a sign half a
mile long extolling the virtues of a certain English condiment. And
they say the English are not enterprising! She crossed the mouth of
Gowanus bay and passed the villas of Bay Ridge, and still nothing
happened.
But as she approached the Narrows, Evan thought he heard one of the
sliding doors squeak, and his heart leaped. Jumping up he flattened
himself against the deck house. There was an agonising pause. If only
he dared peep around the side. Then Corinna came plump into view.
At sight of him a sharp exclamation escaped her. She hung motionless
for a moment, her face fixed in a comical mask of surprise and
indignation, like a child's, then she turned to run.
"Wait!" cried Evan peremptorily.
She saw that he could seize her before she gained the door. She had
learned the folly of running from him. So she stood still. Drawing
herself up she said:
"I have nothing to say to you. I only wished to make sure that you had
not done anything foolish."
Evan glanced at the shores. Staten Island was the nearer--less than
half a mile. "It is not too late," he said.
"Overboard I go," said Evan, "unless you stop here and talk to me as if
I were a Christian."
She smiled scornfully.
"I shall not be fooled a second time," she said.
"You were not fooled the first time," he said quietly. He bent down
and started to unlace his shoes.
"What are you doing?" she demanded.
"Can't swim with my shoes on," Evan said without looking up.
He heard her catch her breath, but her voice was still inflexible. "Do
you think me so simple!"
"I don't think at all," said Evan with his hand on the rail. "I give
you your choice. Will you stop and talk to me like a reasonable being
for five minutes."
Their hard eyes battled furiously, and neither pair would down. "No!"
she said, though her lips were white.
He glanced down at the water boiling from under the _Ernestina's_
counter, and gathered himself for the spring.
The glance was too much for Corinna. "Evan! Evan!" she cried sharply,
and put her hands out.
In a trice he had her in his arms.
"Ah, don't kiss me!" she begged, even while her lips surrendered to his.
"Ah, you nearly let me go!" murmured Evan.
"I would have gone too!"
"Then we'd both have drowned. I couldn't carry you all that way."
"I wouldn't have cared."
"I'd rather live with you, you beautiful thing! Why do you want to
kill us both?"
She tore herself from his arms. "I can't help myself. This is only
torment."
"But why? why? I'm of age. I have a right to know, to judge for
myself. What comes between us?"
"I cannot tell you."
"And do you expect me to let you go on your mere say-so? No, by God!
Not while I live!"
"You must let me go!"
"Is it a sin for you to love me?"
"It is impossible."
"That's not answering my question. Have you a husband?"
"Certainly not!" she said indignantly.
He laughed at her tone. "Is there any other man who has a better claim
on you than I have?"
She shook her head.
"Well, then!" he cried in great relief. "What's the matter? There's
no other reason that I would recognise."
"Have mercy on me," she murmured. "Let me go. Help me to be strong!"
"In other words help you not to love me," he said tenderly. "Not on
your life! I will never let you go without a good reason."
"I will tell you everything as soon as I can."
"What does that mean, 'soon as you can'?"
"In a few days, a week maybe."
"Why not now?"
"Something must happen first."
"Corinna, don't you understand how this mystery tortures one who
loves!" he cried.
"I know. I cannot help myself."
"But you promise to tell me?"
"Yes, if you will let me entirely alone until I do tell you."
"I'll do my best," he groaned. "One can't promise miracles."
"And you must not let yourself love me, until you know."
"Oh, that's clearly impossible. I would have to love you just the same
if you had two or three husbands and were the wickedest woman in the
world beside."
"I'm not a wicked woman!" she passionately cried.
"Why, I didn't suppose you were," he said surprised. "But it wouldn't
make any difference."
"Let me go now," she begged. "This only makes it harder."
"Tell me you love me, and I'll let you go. You owe me that after
having had me assaulted on the last trip."
"I didn't know what they were going to do."
"Well, tell me you love me, anyhow."
"I do not love you."
"You do! It's in your eyes, your lips, I know you do!"
"If I told you it would be impossible to manage you!"
Evan laughed a peal. "Darling stubborn child! Then kiss me of your
own free will and I'll let you go."
"No! No! No!"
"Then I must kiss you."