After all, it must be admitted that George Wentworth was a man of
somewhat changeable character. For the last two or three days he had been
moping like one who meditated suicide; now when everyone else was
anxiously wondering what was going to happen to the ship, he suddenly
became the brightest individual on board. For a man to be moody and
distraught while danger was impending was not at all surprising; but for
a man, right in the midst of gloom, to blossom suddenly out into a
general hilarity of manner, was something extraordinary. People thought
it must be a case of brain trouble. They watched the young man with
interest as he walked with a springy step up and down the deck. Every now
and again a bright smile illuminated his face, and then he seemed to be
ashamed that people should notice he was feeling so happy. When he was
alone he had a habit of smiting his thigh and bursting out into a laugh
that was long and low, rather than loud and boisterous. No one was more
astonished at this change than Fleming, the politician. George met him on
deck, and, to the great surprise of that worthy gentleman, smote him on
the back and said:
'My dear sir, I am afraid the other day, when you spoke to me, I answered
a little gruffly. I beg to apologize. Come and have a drink with me.'
'Oh, don't mention it,' said Fleming joyously; 'we all of us have our
little down-turns now and then. Why, I have them myself, when liquor is
bad or scarce! You mightn't believe it, but some days I feel away down in
the mouth. It is true I have a recipe for getting up again, which I
always use. And that reminds me: do you remember what the Governor of
North Carolina said to the Governor of South Carolina?'
'I'm sure I don't know,' said Wentworth; 'you see, I'm not very well
versed in United States politics.'
'Well, there wasn't much politics about his remark. He merely said,
"It's a long time between drinks;" come in and have something with me.
It seems to me you haven't tasted anything in my company since the
voyage began.'
'I believe,' said Wentworth, 'that is a true statement. Let us amend it
as soon as possible, only in this case let me pay for the drinks. I
invited you to drink with me.'
'Not at all, not at all!' cried Fleming; 'not while I'm here. This is my
treat, and it is funny to think that a man should spend a week with
another man without knowing him. Really, you see, I haven't known you
till now.'
And so the two worthy gentlemen disappeared into the smoking-room and
rang the electric bell.
But it was in his own state-room that George Wentworth's jocularity came
out at its best. He would grasp John Kenyon by the shoulder and shake
that solemn man, over whose face a grim smile generally appeared when he
noticed the exuberant jollity of his comrade.
'John,' Wentworth cried, 'why don't you laugh?'
'Well, it seems to me,' replied his comrade, 'that you are doing laughing
enough for us both. It is necessary to have one member of the firm solid
and substantial. I'm trying to keep the average about right. When you
were in the dumps I had to be cheerful for two. Now that you feel so
lively, I take a refuge in melancholy, to rest me after my hard efforts
at cheerfulness.'
'Well, John, it seems to me too good to be true. What a plucky girl she
was to do such a thing! How did she know but that the little vixen had a
revolver with her, and might have shot her?'
'I suppose she didn't think about it at all.'
'Have you seen her since that dramatic incident?'
'Seen whom? Miss Brewster?'
'No, no; I mean Miss Longworth.'
'No, she hasn't appeared yet. I suppose she fears there will be a scene,
and she is anxious to avoid it.'
'Very likely that is the case,' said Wentworth. 'Well, if you do see her,
you can tell her there is no danger. Our genial friend, Fleming, has had
a talk with that newspaper woman, so he tells me, and the way he
describes it is exceedingly picturesque. He has threatened her with
giving away the "snap," as he calls it, to the other New York papers, and
it seems that the only thing on earth Miss Brewster is afraid of is the
opposition press. So she has promised to say nothing more whatever about
the incident.'
'Then, you have been talking with Fleming?'
'Certainly I have; a jovial good fellow he is, too. I have been doing
something more than talking with him; I have been drinking with him.'
'And yet a day or two ago, I understand, you threatened to strike him.'
'A day or two ago, John! It was ages and ages ago. A day or two isn't in
it. That was years and centuries since, as it appears to me. I was an old
man then; now I have become young again, and all on account of the plucky
action of that angel of a girl of yours.'
'Not of mine,' said Kenyon seriously; 'I wish she were.'
'Well, cheer up. Everything will come out right; you see, it always does.
Nothing looked blacker than this matter about the telegram a few days
ago, and see how beautifully it has turned out.'
Kenyon said nothing. He did not desire to discuss the matter even with
his best friend. The two went up on deck together, and took a few turns
along the promenade, during which promenade the eyes of Kenyon were
directed to the occupants of the deckchairs, but he did not see the
person whom he sought. Telling Wentworth he was going below for a moment,
he left him to continue his walk alone, and on reaching the saloon Kenyon
spoke to a stewardess.
'Do you know if Miss Longworth is in her stateroom?'
'Yes, sir, I think she is,' was the answer.
'Will you take this note to her?'
John sat down to wait for an answer. The answer did not come by the hand
of the stewardess. Edith herself timorously glanced into the saloon, and,
seeing Kenyon alone, ventured in. He sprang up to meet her.
'I was afraid,' he said, 'that you had been ill.'
'No, not quite, but almost,' she answered. 'Oh, Mr. Kenyon, I have done
the most terrible thing! You could not imagine that I was so bold and
wicked;' and tears gathered in the eyes of the girl.
Kenyon stretched out his hand to her, and she took it.
'I am afraid to stay here with you,' she said, 'for fear----'
'Oh, I know all about it,' said Kenyon.
'You cannot know about it; you surely do not know what I have done?'
'Yes, I know exactly what you've done; and we all very much admire your
pluck.'
'It hasn't, surely, been the talk of the ship?'
'No, it has not; but Miss Brewster charged me with being an accomplice.'
'And you told her you were not, of course?'
'I couldn't tell her anything, for the simple reason that I hadn't the
faintest idea what she was talking about; but that's how I came to know
what had happened, and I am here to thank you, Miss Longworth, for your
action. I really believe you have saved the sanity of my friend
Wentworth. He is a different man since the incident we are speaking of
occurred.'
'And have you seen Miss Brewster since?'
'Oh yes; as I was telling you, she met me on the deck. Dear me! how
thoughtless of me! I had forgotten you were standing. Won't you sit
down?'
'No, no; I have been in my room so long that I am glad to stand
anywhere.'
'Then, won't you come up on deck with me?'
'Oh, I'm afraid,' she said. 'I am afraid of a public scene; and I am
sure, by the last look I caught in that girl's eyes, she will stop at no
scandal to have her revenge. I am sorry to say that I am too much of a
coward to meet her. Of course, from her point of view I have done her
eternal wrong. Perhaps it was wrong from anybody's point of view.'
'Miss Longworth,' said John Kenyon cordially, 'you need have no fear
whatever of meeting her. She will say nothing.'
'How do you know that?'
'Oh, it is a long story. She went to the captain with her complaint, and
received very little comfort there. I will tell you all about it on deck.
Get a wrap and come with me.'
As Kenyon gave this peremptory order, he realized that he was taking a
liberty he had no right to take, and his face flushed as he wondered if
Edith would resent the familiarity of his tones; but she merely looked up
at him with a bright smile, and said:
'I will do, sir, as you command.'
'No, no,' said Kenyon; 'it was not a command, although it sounded like
one. It was a very humble request; at least, I intended it to be such.'
'Well, I will get my wrap.'
As she left for her state-room, a rousing cheer was heard from on deck.
She stopped, and looked at Kenyon.
'What does that mean?' she asked.
'I do not know,' was the answer. 'Please get your things on and we will
go up and see.'
When they reached the deck they saw everybody at the forward part of the
ship. Just becoming visible in the eastern horizon were three trails of
black smoke, apparently coming towards them.
The word was whispered from one to the other: 'It is the tug-boats. It
is relief.'
Few people on board the steamer knew that their very existence depended
entirely on the good weather. The incessant pumping showed everybody, who
gave a thought to the matter, that the leak had been serious; but as the
subsidence of the vessel was imperceptible to all save experts, no one
but the officers really knew the grave danger they were in. Glad as the
passengers were to see those three boats approach, the one who most
rejoiced was the one who knew everything respecting the disaster and its
effects--the captain.
Edith Longworth and John Kenyon paced the deck together, and did not form
two of the crowd who could not tear themselves away from the front of
the ship, watching the gradually approaching tug boats. Purposely, John
Kenyon brought the girl who was with him past Miss Jennie Brewster, and
although that person glared with a good deal of anger at Edith, who
blushed to her temples with fear and confusion, yet nothing was said; and
Kenyon knew that afterwards his companion would feel easier in her mind
about meeting the woman with whom she had had such a stormy five minutes.
The tug boats speedily took the big steamer in tow, and slowly the four
of them made progress towards Queenstown, it having been resolved to land
all the passengers there, and to tow the disabled vessel to Liverpool, if
an examination of the hull showed such a course to be a safe one. The
passengers bade each other good-bye after they left the tender, and many
that were on board that ship never saw each other again. One at least,
had few regrets and no good-byes to make, but a surprise was in store for
her. Jennie Brewster found a cablegram from New York waiting for her. It
said 'Cable nothing respecting mines. Letter follows.'