SHADOWS CAST BEFORE
Captain Boynton as host entertained the launch party at dinner at the
Griswold that evening, and later all attended the dance given in honor
of the winning crew.
Many of the Yale and Harvard men were old friends of the midshipmen,
having been to Annapolis a number of times either to witness or
participate in some form of athletics. So old friendships were renewed,
and new ones made, though, in some way Peggy and Polly felt less at home
with the college men than with "our boys," as they both called all from
Annapolis, notwithstanding the fact that "our boys" were in some
instances the seniors of the college men. But the Academy life is
peculiar in that respect, and tends to extremes. Where the collegian
from the very beginning of his career is permitted to go and come almost
at will, and as a result of that freedom of action attains a liberty
which, alack, has been known to degenerate into license, the midshipman
must conform to the strictest discipline, his outgoings limited, with
the exception of one month out of the twelve, to the environs of a
little, undeveloped town, and with every single hour of the twenty-four
accounted for. Yet, on the other hand he must at once shoulder
responsibilities which would make the average collegian think twice
before he bound himself to assume them.
And the result is an exceptional development: they are boys at heart,
but men in their ability to face an issue. Ready to frolic, have "a
rough house," and set things humming at the slightest provocation, but
equal to meet a crisis when one must be met and--with very rare
exceptions--gentlemen in word and deed.
Peggy's and Polly's chums during the winter just past had been chosen
from the best in the Academy, and it was no wonder they drew very sharp,
very critical comparisons when brought in touch with other lads. In
Peggy's case it was all a novelty, though Polly had known boys all her
life.
Nevertheless, the ball given at the Griswold would have been joy
unalloyed but for one fly in the pot of ointment: A most insistent,
buzzing fly, too, in the form of Mrs. Peyton Stewart.
Perhaps while all the world is a-tiptoe in the packed ballroom, or
crowding the broad piazzas of the hotel, this will be an opportune
moment in which to drop a word regarding Mrs. Peyton Stewart.
As lads, Neil Stewart and his brother had been devotedly attached to
each other. Peyton was five years Neil's junior, and Neil fairly adored
the bright little lad. Naturally, Neil had entered the Naval Academy
while Peyton was still a small boy at boarding-school. Then Peyton went
to college and at the ripe age of twenty-two, married.
Had the marriage been a wise one, or one likely to help make a man of
the heedless, harum-scarum Peyton, his family, and his brother, would
probably have accepted the situation with as good a grace as possible.
But it was NOT wise: it was the very essence of folly, for the girl was
nearer Neil's age than Peyton's, and came of a family which could never
have had anything in common with Peyton Stewart's. She was also entirely
frivolous, if not actually designing. Neil was the only member of his
family who attended the wedding, which took place in a small New Jersey
town, and, as has been stated, had seen his undesirable sister-in-law
only twice after her wedding-day. Upon one occasion by accident, and
upon the last at his brother's death, only two years after the marriage,
and had then and there resolved never to see her again if he could
possibly help it, for never had one person rubbed another the wrong way
as had Mrs. Peyton rubbed her brother-in-law.
Naturally, Peyton had received his share of his inheritance upon the
death of his parents, but Neil had inherited Severndale, so while Madam
Peyton Stewart was not by any means lacking in worldly goods, she had
nothing like the income her brother-in-law enjoyed. But she was by no
means short-sighted, and like a flash several thoughts had entered her
head when chance brought her in touch with him. She had never been of
the type which lets a good opportunity slip for lack of prompt action,
so in spite of her hostess' rather excited frame of mind as the result
of the afternoon's accident, she persuaded her to attend the ball at the
Griswold that evening.
She must have something to divert her thoughts from the horror of that
precious child's disaster and miraculous rescue from death, she urged,
that same child, as a matter of fact, being as gay and chipper as though
a header from the stern of a crowded launch into a more crowded river
was a mere daily incident in her life.
So there sat Madam, gorgeous in white satin and silver, plying her fan
and her tongue with equal energy.
Presently Peggy danced by with Durand, not a few eyes following the
beautiful young girl and handsome boy, and to an individual those who
saw them decided that they were brother and sister. This was Mrs.
Stewart's opportunity and she made the most of it: Turning to a lady
beside her she gurgled:
"Oh, that darling child. She is my only niece though I have never met
her until this very afternoon. Isn't she a beauty? THINK what a
sensation she will be sure to create a year or two hence when she comes
out. Don't you envy me? for, of course, there is no one else to
introduce her to society. Her mother died years ago."
"And the young man with her?" questioned the lady, wondering why the
darling niece had not figured more prominently in the aunt's life
hitherto. "Is he her brother?"
"No. He is the hero of the day. The young naval cadet [save the mark!]
who so nobly sprang overboard after sweet little Clare and saved her
under such harrowing circumstances. Isn't he simply stunning! Have you
ever seen a more magnificent figure? I think he is the handsomest thing
I've ever laid my eyes upon. And so devoted to dear Peggy. And they say
he has a fortune in his own right. But, that is a minor consideration;
the dear child is an heiress herself. Magnificent old home in Maryland
and, and, oh, all that, don't you know."
Madam's information concerning her niece's affairs seemed to have grown
amazingly since that chance encounter during the afternoon.
At that moment the dance came to an end and by evil chance Peggy and
Durand were not ten feet from Mrs. Stewart. She beckoned to them and, of
course, there was nothing to do but respond. They at once walked over to
her.
"Oh, Mrs. Latimer, let me present my dear niece Miss Stewart to you, and
Peggy darling, I MUST know this young hero. You dear, dear boy, weren't
you simply petrified when you saw that darling child plunge overboard?
You are a wonder. A perfect wonder of heroism. Of course the girls are
just raving over you. How could they help it? Uniforms, brass buttons,
the gallant rescuer and--now turn your head the other way because you
are not supposed to hear this--all the gifts and graces of the gods. Ah,
Peggy, I suspect you have rare discrimination even at YOUR age, and
well--Mr. Leroux--YOU have not made any mistake, I can assure you."
Perhaps two individuals who have suddenly stepped into a hornet's nest
may have some conception of Peggy's and Durand's sensations. Peggy
looked absolutely, hopelessly blank at this volley. Durand's face was
first a thunder-cloud and then became crimson, but not on his own
account: Durand was no fool to the ways of foolish women; his
mortification was for Peggy's sake; he loathed the very thought of
having her brought in touch with such shallowness, exposed to such
vulgarity, and the charm of their rarely frank intercourse invaded by
suggestions of silly sentimentality. Thus far there had never been a
hint, nor the faintest suggestion of it; only the most loyal good
fellowship; and his own attitude toward Peggy Stewart was one of the
highest esteem for a fine, well-bred girl and the tenderest sense of
protection for her lonely, almost orphaned position. He looked at Mrs.
Peyton Stewart with eyes which fairly blazed contempt and she had the
grace to color tinder his gaze, boy of barely nineteen that he was.
"And you are going to let me know you better, aren't you, dear?"
persisted Mrs. Stewart. "I am coming to see you. Do ask father to come
and talk with me. There are a thousand questions I must ask him, and
innumerable incidents of old times to discuss."
"Captain Stewart is just across the room. I will tell him you are
anxious to see him, Mrs. Stewart, and then I must take you to Mrs.
Harold, Peggy, or the other fellows will never find you in this jam,"
and away fled Durand, quick to find a loophole of escape. Whether Neil
Stewart appreciated his zeal in serving the family cause is open to
speculations, but it served the turn for the moment. Neil Stewart was
obliged to cross the room and talk to his sister-in-law, said sister-in-
law taking the initiative to rise at his approach, place her hand upon
his arm, and say:
"Dear Neil, what a delight after all these years. But pray take me
outside. It is insufferably oppressive in here and I have so much I wish
to say to you."
Just what "dear Neil's" innermost thoughts were need not be conjectured.
He escorted the lady from the big ballroom, and Durand whisked Peggy
away to Mrs. Harold, though he said nothing to the girl--he was raging
too fiercely inwardly, and felt sure if he said anything he would say
too much. Nor was Peggy her usual self. She seemed obsessed by a
forewarning of evil days ahead. Durand handed her over to the partner
who was waiting for her, and saw her glide away with him, then slipping
into a vacant chair behind Mrs. Harold, who for the moment happened to
be alone, he said:
"Little Mother, have you ever been so rip-snorting mad that you have
wanted to smash somebody and cut loose for fair, and felt as if you'd
burst if you couldn't?"
The words were spoken in a half-laughing tone, but Mrs. Harold turned to
look straight into the dark eyes so near her own.
"What has happened, son?" she asked in the quiet voice which always
soothed his perturbed spirit. He repeated the conversation just heard,
punctuating it with a few terse comments which revealed volumes to Mrs.
Harold. Her face was troubled as she said:
"I don't like it. I don't like it even a little bit. I'm afraid trouble
is ahead for that little girl. Oh, if her father could only be with her
all the time. Outsiders can do so little because their authority is so
limited and those who HAVE the authority are either too guileless or
debarred by their stations. Dr. Llewellyn, Harrison and Mammy are the
only ones who have the least right to say one word, and--"
Mrs. Harold ceased and shrugged her shoulders in a manner which might
have been copied from Durand himself.
"Yes, I know who you mean. And Peggy is one out of a thousand. She and
Polly too. Great Scott, there isn't an ounce of nonsense in their heads,
and if that old fool--I beg your pardon," cried Durand, fussed at his
break, but Mrs. Harold nodded and said:
"There are times when it is excusable to call a spade a spade."
"Well," continued Durand, "if that femme starts in to talk such rot to
Peggy it's going to spoil everything. Why, you never heard such
confounded foolishness in all your life."
"Come and walk on the terrace with me, laddie, and cool off both
mentally and physically. I know just how you feel and I wish I could see
the way to ward off the inevitable--at least that which intuition hints
to be inevitable--
"And that is?" asked Durand anxiously.
"Child, you have been like a son to me for two years. Peggy has grown
almost as dear to me as Polly. I long to see that rare little girl
blossom into a fine woman and she will if wisely guided, but with such a
person as her aunt--"
"You don't for a moment think she will go and camp down at Severndale?"
demanded Durand, stopping stock-still in consternation at the picture
the words conjured up.
"I don't KNOW a thing! Not one single thing, but I am gifted with an
intuition which is positively painful at times," and Mrs. Harold resumed
her walk with a petulant little stamp.
Nor was her intuition at fault in the present instance. In some respects
Neil Stewart was as guileless and unsuspicious as a child, but Madam
Stewart was far from guileless. She was clever and designing to a
degree, and before that conversation upon the Griswold piazza, ended she
had so cleverly maneuvered that she had been invited to spend the month
of September at Severndale, and that was all she wanted: once her
entering wedge was placed she was sure of her plans. At least she always
HAD been, and she saw no reason to anticipate failure now.
But she did not know Peggy Stewart. She thought she had read at a glance
the straightforward, modest little girl, but the real Peggy was not to
be understood in the brief period of four hours.
Meanwhile, Peggy was blissfully unaware of her impending fate, and had
almost dismissed Mrs. Stewart's very existence from her thoughts. She
and Polly were dancing away the hours in all the joy of fifteen summers,
and rumors of a wonderful plan were afloat for the following day. This
was no more nor less than a cutter race between the midshipmen of the
Olympia and the Chicago. For days the two crews had been practising and
were only waiting for the big day to come and pass before holding their
own contest.
The Chicago really had the picked men, most of them being the regular
crew men, and while pulling in a cutter is a far cry from pulling in a
shell, nevertheless, the work of trained men usually counts in the long
run, and the boys and the Jackies had bet everything they owned, from
their best shoes to a month's pay, upon the victory of the Chicago's
crew.
But the Olympia boys "were lyin' low, an' playin' sly." They had but one
crew man in their cutter, but he was "a jim dandy," being no less than
Lowell, the stroke oar of the Navy crew, and a man who could "put more
ginger into a boatload of fellows than any other in the outfit," so his
chums averred.
Durand was on the Olympia's crew, and Durand's shoulders were worth
considerable to any crew.
Nicholas was on the "Old Chi," Ralph on the Olympia, so the forces were
about equally divided, and the girls were nearly distracted over the
issue, for if they could have had the decision both would have been
victorious.
The following morning dawned as sparkling and clear as the previous one.
"Regular Harold weather," the boys pronounced it, owing to the fact that
rarely had Mrs. Harold planned a frolic of any sort back yonder in
Annapolis without the weather clerk smiling upon it.
When "Colors" came singing across the water at eight o'clock, up went
the squadron's bunting in honor of the day, and a pretty picture the
ships presented dressed from stem to stern in their gay, varicolored
flags.
The race would take place at three o'clock in the afternoon but a
preliminary pull over the course was in order for the morning, and
Captain Boynton of the Olympia and Captain Star of the Chicago were as
eager to have all conditions favorable, and the lads "fit to a finish,"
as though their ages, like those of the contestants were within the
first score of life's journey. So their launches were ordered out to
watch that morning practice and they ran and jeered each other like a
couple of schoolboys out for a lark, and that attitude did more to put
spirit in the boys, to establish good feeling and the determination to
"Put up a showing for the Old Chi" or "that fighting machine of the old
man's," the "old man" being their term of affection for Admiral Dewey,
than all the "cussing out" in the English vocabulary could have done.