THE SAILING OF THE _Empress_
Bull Sternford was reading over the telegram he had just written. Its
phraseology was curious. But it expressed the things he wanted to say,
and he knew it would be understood by the man to whom it was addressed.
"HARKER, SACHIGO, LABRADOR.
"Sailing to-morrow. War. Pass mill through hair sieve. Clear all
refuse. Watch fireguard. Look around. Plums otherwise ripe.
Return earliest date.
"BULL."
He smiled as he looked up from his reading. An acquaintance passed
through the hall of the hotel. He nodded to him. Then the smile died out
of his eyes, and it was like the passing of a gleam of sunshine. He
passed the message across the counter to the attendant and paid for it.
War! It was only an added development in the course of the ceaseless
work of life. The thought of it disturbed him not one whit. It was the
element in which he thrived. But for all that his mood had lost much of
its usual equanimity.
For two weeks he had applied himself assiduously to the work upon which
he was engaged. He had travelled hundreds of miles to the other capital
cities of the country in pursuit of his affairs. He had worked in that
express fashion which was characteristic of him. But under it all,
through it all, a depressing disappointment hung like a shadow over
every successful effort he put forth. The memory of an evening at the
Chateau haunted him. The vision of smiling hazel eyes and a radiant
crowning of vivid hair filled every moment of his waking dreaming. He
had not seen or heard of Nancy McDonald since that first night in
Quebec.
To-morrow he sailed for England. The thought of it afforded him none of
the satisfaction with which he had always looked forward to that
journey. Yet it meant no less to him now. On the contrary. It really
meant more. It meant that his work was marching forward to the great
completion which was to crown his labours, and the work of those others
who had conceived the task.
It should have been a wonderful moment for him. The house of Leader and
Company of London had thrown its doors open to him in welcome. Sir Frank
Leader with his millions, his shipping, his great power, and the
confidence which his name inspired in British commercial circles, would
not fail. The prospect lying ahead, for all the threatened war, should
have stirred him to a keen enthusiasm that achievement was within his
grasp. But none of these emotions were stirring.
He felt if he could only see Nancy McDonald, that perfect creature with
her amazing beauty and splendid courage, just to exchange a few words,
just to receive her smiling "bon voyage," and even to hear her laughing
declaration of her frank enmity, why--it would--But there was no chance
now--none at all. He sailed to-morrow.
He had dreamed a wonderful dream since first he had beheld the charming
fur-clad figure enter his office at Sachigo. He had realised, even in
those first moments, the impish act of Fate. Nancy McDonald was the one
woman in the world who could mean life--real life to him, and they were
definitely arrayed against each other in the battle for commercial
supremacy in which they were both engaged.
But Fate's act had only added to his desire. The whole thing had
appealed to his combative instinct. It had left him feeling there was
not alone the storming of the Skandinavia's stronghold to be achieved.
There was also a captive, a fair, innocent captive held bound and
prisoned within the citadel for him to set free. He wanted Nancy as he
wanted nothing else in the world. Sachigo? Canada for the Canadians?
These things were cold, meaningless words. He only thought of the
dawning of the day that should see Nancy his wife, his everything in
life.
He betook himself out on to the Terraces overlooking the slowly freezing
waterway of the great St. Lawrence river. It was keenly cold, and the
white carpet of winter's first snow remained unmelted on the ground. But
the sun was shining, and the crisp air was sparkling, and the terraces
were filled with fur-clad folk who, like himself, had found leisure for
a half hour of one of the finest views in the world.
He paced leisurely down the great promenade towards the old Citadel with
all its memories of great men, and the old time Buccaneers who had made
history about its walls. He gazed upon it and wondered. Were they such
bad old days? Were the men who lived in those times great men? Were they
scoundrelly Buccaneers? Were their scruples and morals any more lax than
those of to-day? Were they any different from those who walked under the
shadow of the old walls? They were the questions doubtless asked a
thousand times in as many minutes by those who paused to think as they
contemplated this fine old landmark.
Bull found his own prompt answers. There was no difference, he told
himself. The men and women of to-day were doing the same things,
enduring the same emotions, fighting the same battles, living and
loving, and hating and dying, just as life had ordained from the
beginning of time. And as he stood there he wondered how long this round
of human effort and passion must continue. How long this--
"Why, I hadn't an idea you were so interested in our old history as to
be wasting precious time out here in the snow, Mr. Sternford."
The challenge was full of pleasant, even delighted greeting. And Bull
snatched his cigar from his lips and bared his head.
It was the voice he had longed to hear for many days. And it rang with
an added charm in his delighted ears. He had turned on the instant, and
stood smiling down into eyes that had never ceased from their haunting.
He shook his head.
"If you'll believe me I wasn't wasting time," he said. "I came out here
for a very definite purpose. I've done the thing I hoped. Do you know I
guessed I'd have to sail to-morrow without seeing you again?"
Nancy's eyes sobered. And without their smile Bull thought he detected a
cloud of trouble in them.
"I didn't know you were sailing to-morrow," she said. "It's just a
chance I couldn't help that let me meet you now."
"You mean you avoided me--deliberately?"
Bull's smile had passed. But there was no umbrage in his manner. The
girl's appeal for him was never so great as at that moment. She had
never been more beautiful to him. He had first seen her in that same
long fur coat, and had gazed into her pretty eyes under the same fur
cap. He was glad she was so clad now. To his mind no other costume could
have so much charm for him.
"Yes."
The simple downrightness of the admission might have disconcerted
another. But its honesty and lack of subterfuge only pleased the man.
"That's what I thought. It's this business standing between your folk
and me?"
Nancy nodded.
"Yes. We are enemies."
"That's so," Bull agreed. "That's the pity of it. If you were on my
side--"
"But I'm not. No." Nancy's denial was almost sharp. It certainly was
hurried. "I'm kind of glad I've seen you, though," she went on. "I've
had it in mind I wanted to say things to you." A smile came back to her
eyes. "You see, there are enemies and enemies. There's the enemy you can
regard well. There's the enemy you can hate and despise. Well, I just
want to say we're enemies who don't need to hate and despise--yet. I
don't know how things'll be later. Maybe you'll learn to hate me good
before we're through. But that's as maybe. I'm going to do my work for
all I know for my folks. I'm going to be in this fight right up to my
neck. I've been warned that way. Well, that being so, I'm going to fight
without looking for quarter, and I shall give none. That sounds tough,
doesn't it? But I mean it. And I wanted to say it before things start.
I'm glad I've had the chance--against my notions of things."
Bull laughed. He was in the mood to laugh--now.
"It sounds fine. Say--"
"Are you laughing at me?"
"There isn't a thing further from my thoughts." Bull's denial was
sincere and prompt. "I'm glad you happened along. I'm glad you said
those things. Fight this war--as I shall--with all that's in you. It
don't matter a thing if you're right or wrong. Fight it square and hard
for your folk, and there isn't a right man or woman, but who'll respect
you, and think the better of you for it. A good fight's no crime when
you're convinced you're right."
The girl drew a deep breath, and, to the man, it seemed in the nature of
relief. A great anxiety for her stirred him.
"I'm glad you said that," she said. Then she gazed reflectively up at
the old ramparts. "No. It's no crime to fight when you're convinced.
Besides it's right, too, to fight for your side at any time. That's how
I see it. You'll fight for yours--"
"Any old how." Bull's eyes were deeply regarding. They were very gentle.
"Here," he went on, "fight has a clear, definite meaning for me. I
fight to win. I'll stop at nothing. It's always a game of 'rough and
tough' with me. Gouge, chew, and all the rest of it. Frankly, there's a
devil inside me, when it's fight. I want you to know this, so your
scruples needn't worry you."
"Yes."
Nancy's gaze was turned seawards.
"And you sail--to-morrow? When do you return?" she asked a moment later.
Bull smilingly shook his head.
"We are at war," he said.
The girl's eyes came back. She, too, smiled.
"I forgot." Then she added: "You go by the _Empress_?"
"Yes."
They had both contrived to make it difficult. The barrier was growing.
Both realised it, and Nancy was stirred more than she knew. She had seen
this man and hurried over to him. She had purposely denied him for two
weeks, but the sight of him on the promenade had been irresistible.
Now--now she hardly knew what to say; and yet there were a hundred
things struggling in her mind to find expression. She was paralysed by
the memory of the recent interview she had had with her employers--the
great financial head of her house included--wherein she had learned all
that the coming war meant personally to herself. She would have given
worlds at that moment to have been able to blot out that memory. But she
had no power to do so. It loomed almost tragically in its significance
in the presence of this man.
Bull found it no less difficult. He had striven to make things easy for
her. He had no second thought. And now he realised the thing he had
done. His words had only served to fling an irrevocable challenge, and
thus, finally and definitely, made the longed-for approach between them
impossible.
He drew a deep breath.
"Yes. I sail on the _Empress_."
"And you are glad--of course?"
Bull laughed.
"Some ways."
"You mean--?"
"Why, I shouldn't be sailing if things weren't going my way," he said.
Then he turned about and his movement was an invitation. "But let's quit
it," he said. "Let's forget--for the moment. You don't know what this
meeting has meant to me. I wanted to see you, if only to say 'good-bye.'
I thought I wasn't going to."
They moved down the promenade together.
Nancy did her best. They talked of everything but the impending war, and
the meaning of it. But the barrier had grown out of all proportion. And
a great unease tugged at the heart of each. At length, as they came back
towards the hotel, Nancy felt it impossible to go on. And with downright
truth she said so.
"It must be 'good-bye'--now," she said. "This is all unreal. It must be
so. We're at war. We shall be at each other's throats presently. Well, I
just can't pretend. I don't want to think about it. I hate to remember
it. But it's there in my mind the whole time; and it worries so I don't
know the things I'm saying. It's best to say 'good-bye' and 'bon voyage'
right here. And whatever the future has for us I just mean that."
She held out her hand. It was bare, and soft, and warm, as the man took
possession of it.
"I feel that way, too," he said. "But--" he broke off and shook his
head. "No. It's no use. You've the right notion of this. Until this
war's fought out there is nothing else for it. You'll go right back to
your camp and I'll go to mine. And we'll both work out how we can best
beat the other. But let's make a compact. We'll do the thing we know to
hurt the other side the most we can. If need be we'll neither show the
other mercy. And we'll promise each to take our med'cine as it comes,
and cut out the personal hate and resentment it's likely to try and
inspire. We'll be fighting machines without soul or feeling till peace
comes. Then we'll be just as we are now--friends. Can you do it? I can."
For all the feeling of the moment Nancy laughed.
"It sounds crazy," she exclaimed.
"It is crazy. But so is the whole thing."
"Yes. Oh, it surely is. It's worst than crazy." Passion rang in the
girl's voice. Then the hazel depths smiled and set the man's pulses
hammering afresh. "But I'll make that compact, and I'll keep it. Yes.
Now, 'good-bye,' and a happy and pleasant trip."
Their hands fell apart. Bull had held that hand, so soft and warm and
appealing to him, till he dared hold it no longer.
"Thanks," he said. "Good-bye. I can set out with a good heart--now."
* * * * *
It was again the luncheon hour. It was also the hour at which the
_Empress_ was scheduled to sail. Nancy was again on the Terrace. But now
she was standing on the edge of the promenade--alone. She was gazing
down at the grey waters of the great river, searching with eager eyes,
and listening for the "hoot" of the vessel's siren. This was the last
departure the _Empress_ would make from Quebec for the season. By the
time she returned across the ocean the ice would deny her approach, and
she would make port farther seawards.
Nancy had come there in her leisure just out of simple interest, she
told herself. The man was nothing to her. Oh, no. She felt a certain
regret that they were at war. She felt a certain pity that it was
necessary that so brave a man's hopes must be crushed and all his plans
broken, but that was all. She told herself these things very
deliberately.
And so she had hurried over her mid-day meal, lest she should miss the
sight of the _Empress_ steaming out, with Bull Sternford aboard.
The day was cold and grey. There was snow in the heavy clouds, and the
north wind was bitter. But it mattered nothing. Waiting there the girl's
feet in their overshoes grew cold. Her hands were cold. Even her slim,
graceful body under its outer covering of fur was none too warm. But her
whole interest was absorbed and she remained so till the appointed time.
Oh, yes. It was simply interest in the departure of the vessel that held
her. Just the same, as it was simply interest that stirred her heart and
set it a-flutter, as the sound of the ship's siren came up to her from
below. And surely it was only a 'God-speed' to the departing vessel that
was conveyed in the fluttering handkerchief she held out and waved, as
the graceful giant passed out into the distant mid-channel.