But next morning there was no time to talk of either love or religion
for Chester and Lucy.
The coast of Ireland had been sighted earlier than had been expected,
and there was the usual straining of eyes landward. Chester was among
the first to see the dark points on the horizon which the seamen said
was the Irish coast, and which as the vessel approached, expanded to
green hills, dotted with whitened houses. This then was Europe, old,
historic Europe, land of our forefathers, land of the stories and the
songs that have come down to us from the distant past.
"Good morning. What do you think of Ireland?" Lucy touched his arm.
"Oh, good morning. You are up early."
"I am feeling so fine this morning that I had to get up and join in the
cry of 'Land ho.' No matter how pleasant an ocean voyage has been, we
are always pleased to see the land. Besides, we get off at Queenstown."
"What!" exclaimed Chester. "I thought you were bound for Liverpool?"
"Yes, later; but we are to visit some of our people in Ireland first.
Papa has a brother in Cork. We intend to remain there a few days, then
go on to Dublin, Liverpool, London, Paris, etc., etc.," laughed the
girl.
Chester's heart sank. The separation was coming sooner than he had
thought. Only a few more hours, and this little sun-kissed voyage would
end. He looked at the girl by him; that action was not under embargo.
Yes; she was uncommonly sweet that morning. Perhaps it was the Irish
blood in her quickening at the nearness of the land of her forefathers.
Cheeks and lips and ears were rosy red, and the breeze played with the
somewhat disheveled hair. There was a press of people along the rail
which caused Lucy's shoulders to snuggle closely to his side. Chester
was silent.
"Yes;" she went on, "there's dear old Ireland. You see, this is my
second visit, and it's like coming home. You go on to Liverpool, I
understand."
"I have a ticket to Liverpool," he said; "but I suppose they would let
me off at Queenstown, wouldn't they?"
"Why, certainly--how fast we are nearing land. I'll have to go down now
and awaken father. We haven't much time to get ready."
He would have held her, had he dared. She was gone, and there were a
hundred and one questions to ask her. She must not get away from him
like this. He must know where they were going--get addresses by which to
find them. He had no plans but what could be easily changed. Seeing
Europe without Lucy Strong would be a dull, profitless excursion.
Chester's thoughts ran along this line, when Lucy appeared again. The
color had left her face.
"Father is very sick," she said to Chester. "He seems in a stupor. I
can't wake him. Will you find the doctor?"
"I'll get him," he said. "Don't worry. We'll be down immediately."
Chester and the doctor found Lucy rubbing her father's hands and
forehead, pleading softly for him to speak to her. The doctor after a
hurried examination, said there was nothing serious. A nervous
break-down of some kind only--no organic trouble--would be all right
again shortly.
"But doctor, we get off at Queenstown," explained Lucy.
"Well, I think you can manage it. By the time you are ready to leave, he
will be strong enough. This young man seems able to carry him ashore, if
need be. Are you landing also," he asked of Chester.
"Well--yes."
Lucy looked at the young man, but said nothing. The doctor promised to
bring some medicine, then left.
"But Mr. Lawrence--" began Lucy.
"I'll listen to no objections," interrupted he. "I couldn't think for a
moment of leaving you two in this condition. You're hardly able to lift
a glass of water, and now you father's ill also. No; I am going with
you, to be your body guard, your servant. Listen! I'm out to see the old
world. I should very much like to begin with Queenstown and Cork."
The father moved, opened his eyes, then sat up He passed his hand over
his face, then looked at the two young people. "It's all right," he
muttered, then lay down again on the pillow. The doctor came with his
medicine. There were now heard the noise of trunks being hoisted from
the hold and the bustle of getting ready to leave the ship.
"Father," said Lucy. "We must soon get ready to leave. Will you be
able?"
"Yes, yes, child"--it seemed difficult for the old man to speak.
"And Chester--Mr. Lawrence--here is to go with us and help us."
"Yes." He nodded as if it was easier to give assent in that way.
"We'll make all things ready, daddy. Don't you worry. Rest as long as
you can. It will be some time yet before you will need to get up."
The sick man nodded again.
"I'll remain here while you get ready," said Chester. "Then you may
attend while I do what little is necessary. I'll let my trunk go right
on to Liverpool.
Lucy hurried away and Chester sat down by the bed. As he smoothed out
the coverlet, the minister reached out and took Chester's hand which he
held in his own as if to get strength from it. There came into the old
man's face an expression of contentment, but he did not try to talk.
Lucy returned, and Chester hurried to his own room where he soon packed
his few belongings and was ready. He found the elders on deck watching
the approach to Queenstown, and explained to them what had happened to
change somewhat his plans. "I'll surely hunt you up," he said to Elder
Malby, "and visit with you;" and the Elder wished him God-speed and gave
him his blessing.
Slowly the big ship sailed into Queenstown harbor, and then stopped. The
anchor chains rattled, the big iron grasped the bottom, and the vessel
was still. What a sensation to be once more at rest! Now out from the
shore came a tender to take Queenstown passengers ashore. Small boats
came alongside from which came shrill cries to those far above on deck.
A small rope was thrown up which was caught and hauled in by the
interested spectators. At the end of the small rope there dangled a
heavier one, and at the end of that there was a loop into which a
good-sized Irish woman slipped. "Pull away," came from below, and half a
dozen men responded. Up came the woman, her feet climbing the sides of
the steamer. With great good-nature the men pulled until the woman was
on deck. Then she immediately let down the lighter rope to her companion
in the small boat, where a basket was fastened and drawn up. From the
basket came apples, or "real Irish lace," or sticks of peculiar Irish
woods, all of which found a ready sale among the passengers.
From one of the lower decks of the steamer, a gang-way was pushed on to
the raised deck platform of the tender, and even then the incline was
quite steep. This bridge was well fastened by ropes, and then the
passengers began to descend, while their heavier baggage was piled on
the decks of the tender.
Lucy and her father soon appeared. Chester met them below and helped the
sick man up, along the deck, and down the gang-way to the tender, where
he found a seat. Lucy followed, stewards carrying their hand baggage.
From their new position they looked up to the steamer. How big it was!
The day was beautifully warm. Well wrapped in his coat, the father
rested easily, watching with some interest the busy scene around him. He
being among the last to leave the liner, they were soon ready to be off.
The gang-way was drawn in again, and the tender steamed away towards the
inner harbor. The big ship weighed its anchor, then proceeded on its
course to Liverpool, carrying away its little world of a week's
acquaintance, to which Chester and Lucy waved farewell.
Queenstown, in terraced ranks, now rose before them. The pier was soon
reached, from which most of the travelers continued their journey by
rail. The minister and his party, however, took passage again on a small
boat for Cork. Everything being new to Chester, and the father being
quite unable to do anything, the initiative, at least, rested on Lucy.
With Chester's help, she managed quite well.
For an hour they sailed on the placid waters of the harbor and up into
the river Lee. The wooded hills, on either hand, dotted with
farm-houses and villas, presented a pleasing picture. The boat drew up
to a landing at St. Patrick's Bridge, where Uncle Gilbert met them,
greatly surprised and alarmed at his brother's condition.
Carriages were waiting. Chester was introduced by Lucy in a way which
led to the inference that he was a particular friend of the family
picked up, perhaps, in their time of need. Bag and baggage was piled in
besides them and they drove away through the streets of Cork and into
the suburbs. Slowly the horse climbed the hill, but in a short time they
were at Uncle Gilbert's home, one of the beautiful ones situated among
the green of rolling hillside and the deeper green of trees.
There was another warm welcome by Aunt Sarah, who took immediate and
personal charge of the sick man.
"It's a break-down through overwork," she declared. "You Americans live
at such fever heat that it is no wonder you have no nerves. They're
burned out of you. But it's rest only he wants, poor man; and here's
where he'll get it. Don't you worry, Lucy."
Aunt Sarah's masterful treatment of cases such as these took much care
and anxiety from them all. Away from the bustle and roar of hurrying
humanity and traffic, resting amid the soothing green, and breathing the
mild air of the country; the minister ought surely to get well again
soon.
He would not go to bed, but chose to sit in a big chair with a pillow
under his head, looking out of the upstairs window which afforded a view
of the town. The sun came in rather strongly during the afternoon and
the father motioned Lucy to partly draw the blind. She did so, then drew
a stool to his chair and seated herself near him. He placed his hands on
her head, patted it caressingly, smiled at her, but said nothing. It was
still difficult for him to speak.
Presently, there came a light tap at the door. Lucy arose. It was
Chester.
"Excuse me," he said, "but the people below are somewhat confused over
the trunks. I came to inquire."
"Come in," said Lucy. "Let the 'confusion' continue for a little while.
Come in to where there is peace. Father is feeling better, I am sure."
The invalid turned towards the speakers, then with a movement of his
head told them to come near. Lucy took her former position, while
Chester drew up a chair. Yes; he did seem better, there being some color
in his face to add life to his faint smile.
"Chester," he whispered with effort, as he reached out and took the young
man's hand, "Chester--my boy--I--am--so--glad--you--came--with--us."