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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/4713-h.zip b/4713-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..fbd3b9f --- /dev/null +++ b/4713-h.zip diff --git a/4713-h/4713-h.htm b/4713-h/4713-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5022089 --- /dev/null +++ b/4713-h/4713-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9238 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> + +<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<TITLE> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of The Veiled Lady, by F. Hopkinson Smith +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: small } + +P.letter {text-indent: 0%; + font-size: small ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.footnote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.transnote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.intro {font-size: medium ; + text-indent: -5% ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Veiled Lady, by F. Hopkinson Smith + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Veiled Lady + and Other Men and Women + +Author: F. Hopkinson Smith + +Posting Date: September 11, 2009 [EBook #4713] +Release Date: December, 2003 +First Posted: March 6, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VEILED LADY *** + + + + +Produced by Duncan Harrod. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +THE VEILED LADY +</H1> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +And Other Men And Women +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +By +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +F. Hopkinson Smith +</H2> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H2> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> + <A HREF="#stamboul">THE VEILED LADY OF STAMBOUL</A><BR> + <A HREF="#loretta">LORETTA OF THE SHIPYARDS</A><BR> + <A HREF="#redlead">A COAT OF RED LEAD</A><BR> + <A HREF="#murdock">MISS MURDOCK,—"SPECIAL"</A><BR> + <A HREF="#peter">THE BEGUILING OF PETER GRIGGS</A><BR> + <A HREF="#jennings">MISS JENNINGS'S COMPANION</A><BR> + <A HREF="#joplin">SAM JOPLIN'S EPIGASTRIC NERVE</A><BR> + <A HREF="#buffum">MISS BUFFUM'S NEW BOARDER</A><BR> + <A HREF="#susieann">CAPTAIN JOE AND THE SUSIE ANN</A><BR> + <A HREF="#orders">"AGAINST ORDERS"</A><BR> + <A HREF="#muggles">MUGGLES'S SUPREME MOMENT</A><BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +To my Readers: +</P> + +<P> +This collection of stories has been labelled "The Veiled Lady" as being +the easiest way out of a dilemma; and yet the title may be misleading. +While, beyond doubt, there is between these covers a most charming and +lovable Houri, to whom the nightingales sing lullabies, there can also +be found a surpassingly beautiful Venetian whose love affairs upset a +Quarter, a common-sense, motherly nurse whose heart warmed toward her +companion in the adjoining berth, a plucky New England girl with the +courage of her convictions, and a prim spinster whose only consolation +was the boarder who sat opposite. +</P> + +<P> +Nor does the list by any means end here. Rough sea-dogs, with friendly +feelings toward other dogs, crop up, as well as brave Titans who make +derricks of their arms and fender-piles of their bodies. Here, too, are +skinny, sun-dried Excellencies with a taste for revolutions, +well-groomed club swells with a taste for adventure and cocktails, not +to mention half a dozen gay, rollicking Bohemians with a taste for +everything that came their way. +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps it might have been best to enclose each story in a separate +cover, and then to dump the unassorted lot upon the table, where those +who wished could make their choice. And yet, as I turn the leaves, I +must admit that, after all, the present form is best, since each and +every incident, situation, and bit of local color has either passed +before or was poured into the wide-open eyes and willing ears of your +most humble and obedient servant +</P> + +<P> +A Staid Old Painter. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> + 150 East 34th Street,<BR> + New York, March 13, 1907.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="stamboul"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE VEILED LADY OF STAMBOUL +</H3> + +<P> +Joe Hornstog told me this story—the first part of it; the last part of +it came to me in a way which proves how small the world is. +</P> + +<P> +Joe belongs to that conglomerate mass of heterogeneous nationalities +found around the Golden Horn, whose ancestry is as difficult to trace +as a gypsy's. He says he is a "Jew gentleman from Germany," but he +can't prove it, and he knows he can't. +</P> + +<P> +There is no question about his being part Jew, and there is a strong +probability of his being part German, and, strange to say, there is not +the slightest doubt of his being part gentleman—in his own estimation; +and I must say in mine, when I look back over an acquaintance covering +many years and remember how completely my bank account was at his +disposal and how little of its contents he appropriated. +</P> + +<P> +And yet, were I required to hold up my hand in open court, I would have +to affirm that Joe, whatever his other strains might be, was, after +all, ninety-nine per cent. Levantine—which is another way of saying +that he is part of every nationality about him. +</P> + +<P> +As to his honesty and loyalty, is he not the chosen dragoman of kings +and princes when they journey into far distant lands (he speaks seven +languages and many tribal dialects), and is he not today wearing in his +buttonhole the ribbon of the order of the Mejidieh, bestowed upon him +by his Imperial Highness the Sultan, in reward for his ability and +faithfulness? +</P> + +<P> +I must admit that I myself have been his debtor—not once, but many +times. It was this same quick-sighted, quick-witted Levantine who +lifted me from my sketching stool and stood me on my feet in the plaza +of the Hippodrome one morning just in time to prevent my being trodden +under foot by six Turks carrying the body of their friend to the +cemetery—in time, too, to save me from the unforgivable sin among +Orientals, of want of reverence for their dead. I had heard the tramp +of the pall-bearers, and supposing it to be that of the Turkish patrol, +had kept at work. They were prowling everywhere, day and night, and +during those days they passed every ten minutes—nine soldiers in +charge of an officer of police—all owing to the fact that some five +thousand Armenians, anxious to establish a new form of government, had +been wiped out of existence only the week before. +</P> + +<P> +Once on my feet (Joe accomplished his purpose with the help of my +suspenders) and the situation clear, I had sense enough left to uncover +my head and stand in an attitude of profound reverence until the +procession had passed. I can see them now—the coffin wrapped in a +camel's-hair shawl, the dead man's fez and turban resting on top. Then +I replaced my hat and finished the last of the six minarets of the +mosque gleaming like opals in the soft light of the morning. +</P> + +<P> +This act of courtesy, due so little to my own initiative, and so +largely to Joe's, gained for me many friends in and about the +mosque—not only those of the dead man, one of whom rowed a caique, but +among the priests who formed the funeral cortege—a fact unknown to me +until Joe imparted it. "Turk-man say you good man, effendi," was the +way he put it. "You stoop over yourselluf humble for their dead." +</P> + +<P> +On another occasion Joe again stood by my side when, with hat off and +with body in a half kotow, I sat before the Pasha, who was acting chief +of police after that stormy Armenian week—it was over really in five +days. +</P> + +<P> +"Most High Potentate," Joe began, translating my plain Anglo-Saxon +"Please, sir," into Eastern hyperbolics, "I again seek your +Excellency's presence to make my obeisance and to crave your permission +to transfer to cheap paper some of the glories of this City of +Turquoise and Ivory. This, if your Highness will deign to remember, is +not the first time I have trespassed. Twice before have I prostrated +myself, and twice has your Sublimity granted my request." +</P> + +<P> +"These be troublous times," puffed his Swarthiness through his +mustache, his tobacco-stained fingers meanwhile rolling a cigarette; a +dark-skinned, heavily-bearded Oriental, this Pasha, with an eye that +burned holes in you. "You should await a more peaceful season, effendi, +for your art." +</P> + +<P> +"On account of the Armenians, your Excellency?" I ventured to inquire +with a smile. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." This, in translation by Joe, came with a whistling sound, like +the escaping steam of a radiator. +</P> + +<P> +"But why should I fear these disturbers of the peace, your Supreme +Highness? The Turk is my friend, and has been for years. They know me +and my pure and unblemished life. They also know by this time that I +have been one of the chosen few among nations who have enjoyed your +Highness's confidence, and to whom you have given protection." Here my +spine took the form of a horseshoe curve—Moorish pattern. "As to these +dogs of Armenians" (this last was Joe's, given with a growl to show his +deep detestation of the race—part of his own, if he would but +acknowledge it), "your Excellency will look out for them." He WAS +looking out for them at the rate of one hundred a day and no questions +asked or answered so far as the poor fellows were concerned. +</P> + +<P> +At this the distinguished Oriental finished rolling his cigarette, +looked at me blandly—it is astonishing how sweet a smile can +overspread the face of a Turk when he is granting you a favor or +signing the death warrant of an infidel—clapped his hands, summoning +an attendant who came in on all fours, and whispered an order in the +left ear of the almost prostrate man. This done, the Pasha rose from +his seat, straightened his shoulders (no handsomer men the world over +than these high-class Turks), shook my hand warmly, gave me the Turkish +salute—heart, mouth, and forehead touched with the tips of flying +fingers—and bowed me out. +</P> + +<P> +Once through the flat leather curtain that hid the exit door of the +Pasha's office, and into the bare corridor, I led Joe to a corner out +of the hearing of the ever-present spy, and, nailing him to the wall, +propounded this query: +</P> + +<P> +"What did the High-Pan-Jam say, Joe?" +</P> + +<P> +Hornstog raised his shoulders level with his ears, fanned out his +fingers, crooked his elbows, and in his best conglomerate answered: +</P> + +<P> +"He say, effendi, that a guard of ein men, Yusuf, his name—I know +him—he is in the Secret Service—oh, we will have no trouble with +him—" Here Joe chafed his thumb and forefinger with the movement of a +paying teller counting a roll. "He come every morning to Galata Bridge +for you me. He say, too, if any trouble while you paint I go him—ah, +effendi, it is only Joe Hornstog can do these things. The Pasha, he +know me—all good Turk-men know me. Where we paint now, subito? In the +plaza, or in the patio of the Valedee, like last year?" +</P> + +<P> +"Neither. We go first to the Mosque of Suleiman. I want the view +through the gate of the court-yard, with the mosque in the background. +Best place is below the cafe. Pick up those traps and come along." +</P> + +<P> +Thus it was that on this particular summer afternoon Joe and I found +ourselves on the shadow side of a wall up a crooked, break-neck street +paved with rocks, each as big as a dress-suit case, from which I got a +full view of the wonderful mosque tossing its splendors into the still +air, its cresting of minarets so much frozen spray against the blue. +</P> + +<P> +The little comedy—or shall I say tragedy?—began a few minutes after I +had opened my easel—I sitting crouched in the shadow, my elbow +touching the plastered wall. Only Joe and I were present. Yusuf, the +guard, a skinny, half-fed Turk in fez and European dress, had as usual +betaken himself to the cafe fronting the same sidewalk on which I sat, +but half a block away; far enough to be out of hearing, but near enough +to miss my presence should I decamp suddenly without notifying him. +There he drank some fifty cups of coffee, each one the size of a +thimble, and smoked as many cigarettes, their burned stubs locating his +seat under the cafe awning as clearly as peanut-shells mark a boy's at +the circus. I, of course, paid for both. +</P> + +<P> +So absorbed was I in my work—the mosque never was so beautiful as on +that day—I gave no thought to the fact that in my eagerness to hide my +canvas from the prying sun I had really backed myself into a small +wooden gate, its lintel level with the sidewalk—a dry, dusty, +sun-blistered gate, without lock or hasp on the outside, and evidently +long closed. Even then I would not have noticed it, had not my ears +caught the sound of a voice—two voices, in fact—low, gurgling +voices—as if a fountain had just been turned on, spattering the leaves +about it. Then my eye lighted, not only on the gate, but upon a seam or +split in the wood, half-way up its height, showing where a panel was +sometimes pushed back, perhaps for surer identification, before the +inside wooden beam would be loosened. +</P> + +<P> +So potent was the spell of the mosque's witchery that the next instant +I should have forgotten both door and panel had not Joe touched the toe +of my boot with his own—he was sitting close to me—and in explanation +lifted his eyebrow a hair's breadth, his eyes fixed on the slowly +sliding panel—sliding noiselessly, an inch at a time. Only then did my +mind act. +</P> + +<P> +What I saw was first a glow of yellow green, then a mass of blossoms, +then a throat, chin and face, one after another, all veiled in a +gossamer thin as a spider's web, and last—and these I shall never +forget—a pair of eyes shining clear below and above the veil, and +which gazed into mine with the same steady, full, unfrightened look one +sometimes sees on the face of a summer moon when it bursts through a +rift in the clouds. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't move and don't look," whispered Joe in my ear, a tone in his +voice of one who had just seen a ghost. "Allah! Ekber! Yuleima!" +</P> + +<P> +"Who is she?" I answered, craning my neck to see the closer. +</P> + +<P> +"No speak now—keep still," he mumbled under his breath. +</P> + +<P> +It may have been the gossamer veil shading a rose skin, making pink +pearls of the cheeks and chin and lending its charm to the other +features; or it may have been the wonderful eyes that made me oblivious +of Joe's warning, for I did look—looked with all my eyes, and kept on +looking. +</P> + +<P> +Men have died for just such eyes. Even now, staid old painter as I am, +the very remembrance of their wondrous size—big as a young doe's and +as pleading, their lids fringed by long feathery lashes that opened and +shut with the movement of a tired butterfly—sends little thrills of +delight scampering up and down my spine. Bulbuls, timid gazelles, +perfumed narghilehs, anklets of beaten gold strung with turquoise, +tinkling cymbals, tiny turned-up slippers with silk tassels on their +toes—everything that told of the intoxicating life of the East were +mirrored in their unfathomed depths. +</P> + +<P> +Most of these qualities, I am aware, are found in many another pair of +lambent, dreamy eyes half-hidden by the soft folds of a yashmak—eyes +which these houris often flash on some poor devil of a giaour, knowing +how safe they are and how slim his chance for further acquaintance. +Strange tales are told of their seductive power and strange +disappearances take place because of them. And yet I saw at a glance +that there was nothing of all this in her wondering gaze. Her eyes, in +fact, were fixed neither on Joseph nor on me, nor did they linger for +one instant on the beautiful mosque. It was my canvas that held their +gaze. Men and mosques were old stories; pictures of either as +astounding as a glimpse into heaven. +</P> + +<P> +Again Joe bent his head and whispered to me, his glance this time on +the mosque, on the hill, on the cafe, where Yusuf sat sipping his +coffee, talking to me all the time out of the corner of his mouth. +</P> + +<P> +"Remember, effendi, if Yusuf come we go way chabouk. You look at your +picture all time—paint—no look at her. If Yusuf come and catch us it +make trouble for her—make trouble for you—make more trouble for me. +Police Pasha don't know she come to this garden—I think somebody must +help her. You better stop now and go cafe. I find Yusuf. I no like this +place." +</P> + +<P> +With this Hornstog rose to his feet and began packing the trap, still +whispering, his eyes on the ground. Never once did he look in the +direction of the houri peering through the sliding panel. +</P> + +<P> +The clatter of a horse's hoofs now resounded through the still air. A +mounted officer was approaching. Joe looked up, turned a light +pea-green, backed his body into the gate with the movement of an eel, +put his cheek close to the sliding panel, and whispered some words in +Turkish. The girl leaned a little forward, glanced at the officer as if +in confirmation of Joseph's warning, and smothering a low cry, sprang +back from the opening. The next instant my eye caught the thumb and +forefinger of a black hand noiselessly closing the panel. Joe +straightened up, pulled himself into the position of a sentinel on +guard, saluted the officer, who passed without looking to the right or +left, drew a handkerchief from his pocket, and began mopping his head. +</P> + +<P> +"What the devil is it all about, Joe? Why, you look as if you had had +the wind knocked out of you." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, awful close, awful close! I tell you—but not here. Come, we go +'way—we go now—not stay here any more. If that officer see the lady +with us the Pasha send me to black mosque for five year and you find +yourself board ship on way to Tripoli. Here come Yusuf—damn him! You +tell him you no like view of mosque from here—say you find another +place to-morrow—you do this quick. Hornstog never lie." +</P> + +<P> +On my way across the Galata Bridge to my quarters in Pera that same +afternoon Joe followed until Yusuf had made his kotow and we had made +ours, the three ending in a triple flight of fingers—waited until the +guard was well on his way back to the Pasha's office—it was but a +short way from the Stamboul end of the Galata—and drawing me into one +of the small cafes overlooking the waters of the Golden Horn, seated me +at the far end near a window where we could talk without being +overheard. Here Joe ordered coffee and laid a package of cigarettes on +the table. +</P> + +<P> +"My! but that was like the razor at the throat—not for all the hairs +on my head would I had her look out the small hole in the door when +Serim come along. Somebody must be take care of you, you Joe Hornstog, +that you don't make damn big fool of yourselluf. Ha! but it make me +creep like a spider crawl." +</P> + +<P> +I had pulled up a chair by this time and was facing him. +</P> + +<P> +"Now what is it? Who is the girl? Who was the chap on horseback?" +</P> + +<P> +"That man on the horse is Serim Pasha, chief of the palace police. He +has eyes around twice; one in the forehead, one in each ear, one in the +behind of his head. He did not see her—if he did—well, we would not +be talk now together—sure not after to-morrow night." +</P> + +<P> +"But what has he got to do with it? What did you say her name was? +Yuleima?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Yuleima. What has Serim to do with her? Well, I tell you. If she +get away off go Serim's head. Listen! I speak something you never hear +anywhere 'cept in Turk-man's land. I know it all—everything. I know +her prince—he knows me. I meet him Damascus once—he told me some +things then—the tears run his cheeks down like a baby's when he +talk—and Serim know I know somethings! Ah! that's why he not believe +me if he catch me talk to her. Afterward I find more out from my friend +in Yuleima's house—he is the gardener. Put your head close, effendi." +</P> + +<P> +I drew my chair nearer and listened. +</P> + +<P> +"Yuleima," began Joe, "is one womans like no other womans in all—" +</P> + +<P> +But I shall not attempt the dragoman's halting, broken jargon +interspersed with Italian and German words—it will grate on you as it +grated on me. I will assume for the moment—and Joe would be most +thankful to have me do so—that the learned Hornstog, the friend of +kings and princes, is as fluent in English as he is in Turkish, Arabic, +and Greek. +</P> + +<P> +It all began in a caique—or rather in two caiques. One was on its way +to a little white house that nestles among the firs at the foot of the +bare brown hill overlooking the village of Beicos. The other was bound +for the Fountain Beautiful, where the women and their slaves take the +air in the soft summer mornings. +</P> + +<P> +In the first caique, rowed by two caique-jis gorgeously dressed in +fluffy trousers and blouses embroidered in gold, sat the daughter of +the rich Bagdad merchant. +</P> + +<P> +In the second caique, cigarette in hand, lounged the nephew of the +Khedive, Mahmoud Bey; scarce twenty, slight, oval face with full lips, +hair black as sealskin and as soft, and eyes that smouldered under +heavy lids. Four rowers in blue and silver attended his Highness, the +amber-colored boat skimming the waters as a tropical bird skims a +lagoon. +</P> + +<P> +The two had passed each other the week before on the day of the +Selamlik (the Turkish holiday) while paddling up the Sweet Waters of +Asia—a little brook running into the Bosphorus and deep enough for +caiques to float, and every day since that blissful moment my lady had +spent the morning under the wide-spreading plane-trees shading the +Fountain Beautiful—the Chesmegazell—attended by her faithful slave +Multif, her beautiful body stretched on a Damascus rug of priceless +value, her eager eyes searching the blue waters of the Bosphorus. +</P> + +<P> +On this particular morning—my lady had just stepped into her boat—the +young man was seen to raise himself on his elbow, lift his eyelids, and +a slight flush suffused his swarthy cheeks. Then came an order in a low +voice, and the caique swerved in its course and headed for the dot of +white and gold in which sat Multif and my lady. The Spanish caballero +haunts the sidewalk and watches all day beneath his Dulcinea's balcony; +or he talks to her across the opera-house or bull-ring with cigarette, +fingers, and cane, she replying with studied movements of her fan. In +the empire of Mohammed, with a hundred eyes on watch—eyes of eunuchs, +spies, and parents—love-making is reduced to a passing glance, brief +as a flash of light, and sometimes as blinding. +</P> + +<P> +That was all that took place when the two caiques passed—just a +thinning of the silken veil, with only one fold of the yashmak slipped +over the eyes, softening the fire of their beauty; then a quick, +all-enfolding, all-absorbing look, as if she would drink into her very +soul the man she loved, and the two tiny boats kept each on its way. +</P> + +<P> +The second act of the comedy opens in a small cove, an indent of the +Bosphorus, out of sight of passing boat-patrols—out of sight, too, of +inquisitive wayfarers passing along the highroad from Beicos to +Danikeui. Above the cove, running from the very beach, sweeps a garden, +shaded by great trees and tangles of underbrush; one bunch smothering a +summer-house. This is connected by a sheltered path with the little +white house that nestles among the firs half-way up the steep brown +hill that overlooks the village of Beicos. +</P> + +<P> +The water-patrol may have been friendly, or my lady's favorite slave +resourceful, but almost every night for weeks the first caique and the +second caique had lain side by side in the boat-house in the cove, both +empty, except for one trusty man who loved Mahmoud and who did his +bidding without murmur or question, no matter what the danger. Higher +up, her loose white robes splashed with the molten silver of the moon +filtering through overhanging leaves, where even the nightingale +stopped to listen, could be heard the cooing of two voices. Then would +come a warning cry, and a figure closely veiled would speed up the +path. Next could be heard the splash of oars of the first caique +homeward bound. +</P> + +<P> +Locksmiths are bunglers in the East compared to patrols and eunuchs. +Lovers may smile, but they never laugh at them. There is always a day +of reckoning. A whisper goes around; some disgruntled servant shakes +his head; and an old fellow with baggy trousers and fez, says: "My +daughter, I am surprised" or "pained" or "outraged," or whatever he +does say in polite Turkish, Arabic, or Greek, and my lady is locked up +on bread and water, or fig-paste, or Turkish Delight, and all is over. +Sometimes the young Lothario is ordered back to his regiment, or sent +to Van or Trebizond or Egypt for the good of his morals, or his health +or the community in which he lives. Sometimes everybody accepts the +situation and the banns are called and they live happy ever after. +</P> + +<P> +What complicated this situation was that the girl, although as +beautiful as a dream—any number of dreams, for that matter, and all of +paradise—was a plebeian and the young man of royal blood. Furthermore, +any number of parents, her own two and twice as many uncles and aunts, +might get together and give, not only their blessing, but lands and +palaces—two on the Bosphorus, one in Bagdad and another at Smyrna, and +nothing would avail unless his Imperial Highness the Sultan gave his +consent. Fruthermore, again, should it come to the ears of his August +Presence that any such scandalous alliance was in contemplation, +several yards of additional bow-strings would be purchased and the +whole coterie experience a choking sensation which would last them the +balance of their lives. +</P> + +<P> +Thus it was that, after that most blissful night in the arbor—their +last—in which she had clung to him as if knowing he was about to slip +forever from her arms, both caiques were laid up for the season; the +first tight locked and guarded in the palace of the young man's father, +five miles along the blue Bosphorus as the bird flies, and the second +in the little boat-house in the small indent of a cove under the garden +holding the beloved arbor, the little white house, and My Lady of the +diaphanous veil and the all-absorbing eyes. +</P> + +<P> +With the lifting of the curtain on the third act, the scene shifts. No +more Sweet Waters, no more caiques nor stolen interviews, the music of +hot kisses drowned in the splash of the listening fountain. Instead, +there is seen a sumptuously furnished interior the walls wainscoted in +Moorish mosaics and lined by broad divans covered with silken rugs. +Small tables stand about holding trays of cigarettes and sweets. Over +against a window overlooking a garden lounges a group of women—some +young, some old, one or two of them black as coal. It is the harem of +the Pasha, the father of Mahmoud, Prince of the Rising Sun, Chosen of +the Faithful, Governor of a province, and of forty other things +beside—most of which Joe had forgotten. +</P> + +<P> +Months had passed since that night in the arbor. Yuleima had cried her +eyes out, and Mahmoud had shaken his fists and belabored his head, +swearing by the beard of the Prophet that come what might Yuleima +should be his. +</P> + +<P> +Then came the death of the paternal potentate, and the young lover was +free—free to come and go, to love, to hate; free to follow the +carriage of his imperial master in his race up the hill after the +ceremony of the Selamlik; free to choose any number of Yuleimas for his +solace; free to do whatever pleased him—except to make the beautiful +Yuleima his spouse. This the High-Mightinesses forbade. There were no +personal grounds for their objection. The daughter of the rich Bagdad +merchant was as gentle as a doe, beautiful as a star seen through the +soft mists of the morning, and of stainless virtue. Her father had ever +been a loyal subject, giving of his substance to both church and state, +but there were other things to consider, among them a spouse especially +selected by a council of High Pan-Jams, whose decision, having been +approved by their imperial master, was not only binding, but final—so +final that death awaited any one who would dare oppose it. At the feast +of Ramazan the two should wed. Yuleima might take second, third, or +fortieth place—but not first. +</P> + +<P> +The young prince gritted his row of white teeth and flashed his +slumbering eyes—and they could flash—blaze sometimes—with a fire +that scorched. Yuleima would be his, unsullied in his own eyes and the +world's, or she should remain in the little white house on the brown +hill and continue to blur her beautiful eyes with the tears of her +grief. +</P> + +<P> +Then the favorite slave and the faithful caique-ji—the one who found +the little cove even on the darkest night—put their heads +together—two very cunning and wise heads, one black and wrinkled and +the other sun-tanned and yellow—with the result that one night a new +odalisque, a dark-skinned, black-haired houri, the exact opposite of +the fair-skinned, fair-haired Yuleima, joined the coterie in the harem +of the palace of the prince. She had been bought with a great price and +smuggled into Stamboul, the story ran, a present from a distinguished +friend of his father, little courtesies like this being common in +Oriental countries, as one would send a bottle of old Madeira from his +cellar or a choice cut of venison from his estate, such customs as is +well known being purely a matter of geography. +</P> + +<P> +The chief blackamoor, a shambling, knock-kneed, round-shouldered, +swollen-paunched apology for a man, with blistered, cracked lips, +jaundiced pig eyes, and the skin of a terrapin, looked her all over, +grunted his approval, and with a side-lunge of his fat empty head, +indicated the divan which was to be hers during the years of her +imprisonment. +</P> + +<P> +One night some words passed between the two over the division of +bonbons, perhaps, or whose turn it was to take afternoon tea with the +prince—it had generally been the new houri's, resulting in +considerable jealousy and consequent discord—or some trifle of that +sort (Joe had never been in a harem, and was therefore indefinite), +when the blackamoor, to punctuate his remarks, slashed the odalisque +across her thinly covered shoulders with a knout—a not uncommon mode +of enforcing discipline, so Joe assured me. +</P> + +<P> +Then came the great scene of the third act—always the place for it, so +dramatists say. +</P> + +<P> +The dark-skinned houri sprang up, rose to her full height, her eyes +blazing, and facing her tormentor, cried: +</P> + +<P> +"You blackguard"—a true statement—"do you know who I am?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, perfectly; you are Yuleima, the daughter of the Bagdad merchant." +</P> + +<P> +The fourth act takes place on the outskirts of Stamboul, in a small +house surrounded by a high wall which connects with the garden of a +mosque. The exposure by the eunuch had resulted in an investigation by +the palace clique, which extended to the Bagdad merchant and his +family, who, in explanation, not only denounced her as an ungrateful +child, cursing her for her opposition to her sovereign's will, but +denied all knowledge of her whereabouts. They supposed, they pleaded, +that she had thrown herself into the Bosphorus at the loss of her +lover. Then followed the bundling up of Yuleima in the still watches of +the night; her bestowal at the bottom of a caique, her transfer to +Stamboul, and her incarceration in charge of an attendant in a deserted +house belonging to the mosque. The rumor was then set on foot that it +was unlawful to look steadily into the waters of the Bosphorus or to +attempt the salvage of any derelict body floating by. +</P> + +<P> +The prince made another assault on his hair and tightened his fingers, +this time with a movement as if he was twisting them round somebody's +throat, but he made no outcry. It is hard to kick against the pricks in +some lands. +</P> + +<P> +He did not believe the bow-string pillow-case and solid-shot story, but +he knew that he should never look upon her face again. What he did +believe was that she had been taken to some distant city and there sold. +</P> + +<P> +For days he shut himself up in his palace. Then, having overheard a +conversation in his garden between two eunuchs—placed there for that +purpose—he got together a few belongings, took his faithful caique-ji, +and travelled a-field. If what he had heard was true she was in or near +Damascus. Here would he go. If, after searching every nook and cranny, +he failed to find her, he would return and carry out his sovereign's +commands and marry the princess—a woman he had never laid his eyes on +and who might be as ugly as sin and as misshapen as Yuleima was +beautiful. It was while engaged in this fruitless search that he met +Joseph, to whom he had poured out his heart (so Joe assured me, with +his hand on his shirt-front), hoping to enlist his sympathies and thus +gain his assistance. +</P> + +<P> +All this time the heartbroken girl, rudely awakened from her dream of +bliss, was a prisoner in the deserted house next the mosque. As the +dreary months went by her skin regained its pinkness and her beautiful +hair its golden tint,—walnut shells and cosmetics not being found in +the private toilet of the priests and their companions. When the summer +came a greater privilege was given her. She could never speak to any +one and no one could speak to her—even the priests knew this—but a +gate opening into the high-walled garden was left unlocked now and then +by one of the kind-hearted Mohammedans, and often she would wander as +far as the end of the wall overlooking the Mosque of Suleiman, her +attendant always with her—a black woman appointed by Chief-of-Police +Selim, and responsible for her safety, and who would pay forfeit with +her head if Yuleima escaped. +</P> + +<P> +"And you think now, effendi," concluded Joe, as he drained his last cup +of coffee (Hornstog's limit was twenty cups at intervals of three +minutes each), "that Joe be big damn fool to put his foots in +this—what you call—steel trap? No, no, we keep away. To-morrow, don't +it, we take Yusuf and go Scutari? One beautiful fountain at Scutari +like you never see!" +</P> + +<P> +"But can't her father help?" I asked, ignoring his suggestion. His +caution did not interest me. It was the imprisoned girl and her +suffering that occupied my thoughts. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, perhaps, but not yet. I somethings hear one day from the gardener +who live with her father, but maybe it all lie. He say Serim come and +say—" Again Joe chafed his thumb and forefinger, after the manner of +the paying teller. "Maybe ten thousand piastres—maybe twenty. Her +father would pay, of course, only the Sultan might not like—then worse +trouble—nothing will be done anyhow until the wedding is over. Then, +perhaps, some time." +</P> + +<P> +I did not go to Scutari the next day. I opened my easel in the patio of +the Pigeon Mosque and started in to paint the plaza with Cleopatra's +Needle in the distance. This would occupy the morning. In the afternoon +I would finish my sketch of Suleiman. Should Joe have a fresh attack of +ague he could join Yusuf at the cafe and forget it in the thimbleful +that cheers but does not inebriate. +</P> + +<P> +With the setting up of my tripod and umbrella and the opening of my +color-box a crowd began to gather—market people, fruit-sellers, +peddlers, scribes, and soldiers. Then a shrill voice rang out from one +of the minarets calling the people to prayer. A group of priests now +joined the throng about me watched me for a moment, consulted together, +and then one of them, an old man in a silken robe of corn-yellow bound +about with a broad sash of baby blue, a majestic old man, with a +certain rhythmic movement about him which was enchanting, laid his hand +on Joseph's shoulder and looking into his eyes, begged him to say to +his master that the making of pictures of any living or dead thing, +especially mosques, was contrary to their religion, and that the +effendi must fold his tent. +</P> + +<P> +All this time another priest, an old patriarch with a fez and green +turban and Nile-green robe overlaid with another of rose-pink, was +scrutinizing my face. Then the corn-yellow fellow and the rose-pink +patriarch put their heads together, consulted for a moment, made me a +low bow, performed the flying-fingers act, and floated off toward the +mosque. +</P> + +<P> +"You no go 'way, effendi," explained Joe. "The priest in green turban +say he remember you; he say you holy man who bow yourselluf humble when +dead man go by. No stop paint." +</P> + +<P> +The protests of the priests, followed by their consultation and quiet +withdrawal, packed the crowd the closer. One young man in citizen's +dress and fez stood on the edge of the throng trying to understand the +cause of the excitement. +</P> + +<P> +Joe, who was sitting by me assisting with the water-cup, gazed into the +intruder's face a moment, then closed upon my arm with a grip as if +he'd break it. +</P> + +<P> +"Allah! Mahmoud Bey!" he whispered. "Yuleima's prince. That's him with +the smooth face." +</P> + +<P> +The next instant the young man stood by my side. +</P> + +<P> +"The people are only curious, monsieur," he said in French. "If they +disturb you I will have them sent away. So few painters come—you are +the first I have seen in many years. If it will not annoy you, I'd like +to watch you a while." +</P> + +<P> +"Annoy me, my dear sir!" I was on my feet now, hat in hand. (If he had +been my long-lost brother, stolen by the Indians or left on a desert +island to starve—or any or all of those picturesque and dramatic +things—I could not have been more glad to see him. I fairly hugged +myself—it seemed too good to be true.) "I will be more than delighted +if you will take my dragoman's stool. Get up, Joe, and give—" +</P> + +<P> +The request had already been forestalled. Joe was not only up, but was +bowing with the regularity and precision of the arms of a windmill, his +fingers, with every rise, fluttering between his shirt-stud and his +eyebrows. On his second upsweep the young prince got a view of his +face—then his hand went out. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, it is Hornstog! We know each other. We met in Damascus. You could +not, monsieur, find a better dragoman in all Constantinople." +</P> + +<P> +Only three pairs of eyes now followed the movements of my brush, the +crowd having fallen back out of respect for the young man's rank, Yusuf +having communicated that fact to those who had not recognized him. +</P> + +<P> +When the light changed—and it changed unusually early that morning, +about two hours ahead of time (I helped)—I said to the prince: +</P> + +<P> +"It may interest you to see me finish a sketch in color. Come with me +as far as Suleiman. We can sit quite out of the sun up a little back +street under a wall, and away from everybody. I began the drawing +yesterday. See!" and I uncovered the canvas. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, Suleimanyeh! The most beautiful of all our mosques. Yes, certainly +I'll go." +</P> + +<P> +Joe dug his knuckles into my thigh, under pretence of steadying +himself—he was squatting beside me like a frog, helping with the +water-cups—and gasped: "No; don't take him—please, effendi! No—no—" +</P> + +<P> +I brushed Joe aside and continued: "We can send for coffee and spend +the afternoon. I'll have some chairs brought from the cafe. Pick up +everything, Joe, and come along." +</P> + +<P> +On the way to the crooked, break-neck street my thoughts went racing +through my head. On one side, perhaps, a tap on the shoulder in the +middle of the night; half a yard of catgut in the hands of a +Bashi-Bazouk; an appeal to our consul, with the consciousness of having +meddled with something that did not concern me. On the other a pair of +tear-stained, pleading eyes. Not my eyes—not the eyes of anybody that +I knew—but the kind that raise the devil even in the heart of a staid +old painter like myself. +</P> + +<P> +Joe followed, with downcast gaze. He, too, was scheming. He could not +protest before the prince, nor before Yusuf. That would imply previous +knowledge of the danger lurking in the vicinity of the old wall. His +was the devil and the deep sea. Not to tell the prince of Yuleima's +whereabouts, after their combined search for her, and the fees the +prince had paid him, would be as cruel as it was disloyal. To assist in +Mahmoud's finding her would bring down upon his own head—if it was +still on his shoulders—the wrath of the chief of police, as well as +the power behind him. +</P> + +<P> +Once under the shadow of the wall, the trap unpacked, easel and +umbrella up, and water-bottle filled, Joe started his windmill, paused +at the third kotow, looked me straight in the eye, and, with a tone in +his voice, as if he had at last come to some conclusion, made this +request: +</P> + +<P> +"I have no eat breakfast, effendi—very hungry—you please permit Joe +go cafe with Yusuf—we stay ONE hour, no more. Then I bring coffee. You +see me when I come—I bring the coffee myselluf." +</P> + +<P> +He could not have pleased me more. How to get rid of them both was what +had been bothering me. +</P> + +<P> +I painted on, both of us backed into the low gate with the sliding +panel, my eyes on the mosque, my ears open for the slightest sound. We +talked of the wonderful architecture of the East, of the taper of the +minarets, of the grace and dignity of the priests, of the social life +of the people, I leading and he following, until I had brought the +conversation down to the question: +</P> + +<P> +"And when you young men decide to marry are you free to choose, as we +Europeans are?" I was feeling about, wondering how much of his +confidence he would give me. +</P> + +<P> +"No; that's why, sometimes, I wish I was like one of the white gulls +that fly over the water." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't understand." +</P> + +<P> +"I would be out at sea with my mate—that's what I mean." +</P> + +<P> +"Have you a mate?" +</P> + +<P> +"I had. She is lost." +</P> + +<P> +"Dead?" +</P> + +<P> +"Worse." +</P> + +<P> +I kept at work. White clouds sailed over the mosque; a flurry of +pigeons swept by; the air blew fresh. With the exception of my +companion and myself the street was deserted. I dared not go any +further in my inquiries. If I betrayed any more interest or previous +knowledge he might think I was in league against him. +</P> + +<P> +"The girl, then, suffers equally with the man?" I said, tightening one +of the legs of my easel. +</P> + +<P> +"More. He can keep his body clean; she must often barter hers in +exchange for her life. A woman doesn't count much in Turkey. This is +one of the things we young men who have seen something of the outside +world—I lived a year in Paris—will improve when we get the power," +and his eyes flashed. +</P> + +<P> +"And yet it is dangerous to help one of them to escape, is it not?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +The hour was nearly up. Joe, I knew, had fixed it, consulting his watch +and comparing it with mine so that I might know the coast was clear +during that brief period should anything happen. +</P> + +<P> +"I was tempted to help one yesterday," I answered. "I saw a woman's +face that has haunted me ever since. She may not have been in trouble, +but she looked so." Then quietly, and as if it was only one of the many +incidents that cross a painter's path, I described in minute detail the +gate, the sliding panel, the veiled face and wondrous eyes, the +approach of the officer, the smothered cry of terror, the black finger +and thumb that reached out, and the noiseless closing of the panel. +What I omitted was all reference to Joe or his knowledge of the girl. +</P> + +<P> +Mahmoud was staring into my eyes now. +</P> + +<P> +"Where was this?" +</P> + +<P> +"Just behind you. Lift your head—that seam marks the sliding panel. +She may come again when she sees the top of my umbrella over the wall. +Listen! That's her step. She has some one with her—crouch down close. +There's only room for her head. You may see her then without her +attendant knowing you are here. Quick! she is sliding the panel!" +</P> + +<P> +Outside of Paris, overlooking the Seine, high up on a hill, stands the +Bellevue—a restaurant known to half the world. Sweeping down from the +perfectly appointed tables lining the rail of the broad piazza; +skimming the tree-tops, the plain below, the twisting river, rose-gold +in the twilight, the dots of parks and villas, the eye is lost in the +distant city and the haze beyond—the whole a-twinkle with myriads of +electric lights. +</P> + +<P> +There, one night, from my seat against the opposite wall (I was dining +alone), I was amusing myself watching a table being set with more than +usual care; some rich American, perhaps, with the world in a sling, or +some young Russian running the gauntlet of the dressing-rooms. Staid +old painters like myself take an interest in these things. They serve +to fill his note-book, and sometimes help to keep him young. +</P> + +<P> +When I looked again the waiter was drawing out a chair for a woman with +her back to me. In the half-light, her figure, in silhouette against +the cluster of candles lighting the table, I could see that she was +young and, from the way she took her seat, wonderfully graceful. +Opposite her, drawing out his own chair, stood a young man in evening +dress, his head outlined against the low, twilight sky. It was Mahmoud! +</P> + +<P> +I sprang from my seat and walked straight toward them. There came a low +cry of joy, and then four outstretched arms—two of them tight-locked +about my neck. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me," I asked, when we had seated ourselves, Yuleima's hands still +clinging to mine. "After I left you that last night in the garden, was +the boat where we hid it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Who rowed you to the steamer?" +</P> + +<P> +"My old caique-ji." +</P> + +<P> +"And who got the tickets and passports?" +</P> + +<P> +"Hornstog." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="loretta"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +LORETTA OF THE SHIPYARDS +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +I +</H4> + +<P> +For centuries the painters of Venice have seized and made their own the +objects they loved most in this wondrous City by the Sea. Canaletto, +ignoring every other beautiful thing, laid hold of quays backed by +lines of palaces bordering the Grand Canal, dotted with queer gondolas +rowed by gondoliers, in queerer hoods of red or black, depending on the +guild to which they belonged. Turner stamped his ownership on sunset +skies, silver dawns, illuminations, fetes, and once in a while on a +sweep down the canal past the Salute, its dome a huge incandescent +pearl. Ziem tied up to the long wall and water steps of the Public +Garden, aflame with sails of red and gold: he is still there—was the +last I heard of him, octogenarian as he is. Rico tacks his card to +garden walls splashed with the cool shadows of rose-pink oleanders +dropping their blossoms into white and green ripples, melting into +blue. As for me—I have laid hands on a canal—the Rio Giuseppe—all of +it—from the beginning of the red wall where the sailors land, along +its crookednesses to the side entrance of the Public Garden, and so +past the rookeries to the lagoon, where the tower of Castello is ready +to topple into the sea. +</P> + +<P> +Not much of a canal—not much of a painting ground really, to the +masters who have gone before and are still at work, but a truly +lovable, lovely, and most enchanting possession to me their humble +disciple. Once you get into it you never want to get out, and, once +out, you are miserable until you get back again. On one side stretches +a row of rookeries—a maze of hanging clothes, fish-nets, balconies +hooded by awnings and topped by nondescript chimneys of all sizes and +patterns, with here and there a dab of vermilion and light red, the +whole brilliant against a china-blue sky. On the other runs the long +brick wall of the garden,—soggy, begrimed; streaked with moss and +lichen in bands of black-green and yellow ochre, over which mass and +sway the great sycamores that Ziem loves, their lower branches +interwoven with zinnober cedars gleaming in spots where the prying sun +drips gold. +</P> + +<P> +Only wide enough for a barca and two gondolas to pass—this canal of +mine. Only deep enough to let a wine barge through; so narrow you must +go all the way back to the lagoon if you would turn your gondola; so +short you can row through it in five minutes; every inch of its water +surface part of everything about it, so clear are the reflections; full +of moods, whims, and fancies, this wave space—one moment in a broad +laugh coquetting with a bit of blue sky peeping from behind a cloud, +its cheeks dimpled with sly undercurrents, the next swept by flurries +of little winds, soft as the breath of a child on a mirror; then, when +aroused by a passing boat, breaking out into ribbons of color—swirls +of twisted doorways, flags, awnings, flower-laden balconies, +black-shawled Venetian beauties all upside down, interwoven with strips +of turquoise sky and green waters—a bewildering, intoxicating jumble +of tatters and tangles, maddening in detail, brilliant in color, +harmonious in tone: the whole scintillating with a picturesqueness +beyond the ken or brush of any painter living or dead. +</P> + +<P> +On summer days—none other for me in Venice (the other fellow can have +it in winter)—everybody living in the rookeries camps out on the quay, +the women sitting in groups stringing beads, the men flat on the +pavement mending their nets. On its edge, hanging over the water, +reaching down, holding on by a foot or an arm to the iron rail, are +massed the children—millions of children—I never counted them, but +still I say millions of children. This has gone on since I first staked +out my claim—was a part of the inducement, in fact, that decided me to +move in and take possession—boats, children, still water, and +rookeries being the ingredients from which I concoct color combinations +that some misguided people take home and say they feel better for. +</P> + +<P> +If you ask me for how many years I have been sole owner of this stretch +of water I must refer you to Loretta, who had lived just five summers +when my big gondolier, Luigi, pulled her dripping wet from the canal, +and who had lived eleven more—sixteen, in all—when what I have to +tell you happened. +</P> + +<P> +And yet, Loretta's little mishap, now I come to think of it, does not +go back far enough. My claim was really staked out before she was born +(I am still in possession—that is—I was last year, and hope to be +this), and her becoming part of its record is but the sticking of two +pins along a chart,—the first marking her entrance at five and the +second her exit at sixteen. All the other years of my occupation—those +before her coming and since her going—were, of course, full of the +kind of joy that comes to a painter, but these eleven years—well, +these had all of this joy and then, too, they had—Loretta. +</P> + +<P> +I was in the bow of the gondola when the first of these two pins found +its place on the chart, working away like mad, trying to get the exact +shadow tones on a sun-flecked wall. Luigi was aft, fast asleep, his +elbow under his head: I never object, for then he doesn't shake the +boat. Suddenly from out the hum of the children's voices there came a +scream vibrant with terror. Then a splash! Then the gondola swayed as +if a barca had bumped it, and the next thing I knew Luigi's body made a +curve through the air, struck the water, with an enormous souse, and up +came Loretta, her plump, wet little body resting as easily on Luigi's +hand, as a tray rests on a waiter's. Another sweep with his free arm, +and he passed me the dripping child and clambered up beside her. The +whole affair had not occupied two minutes. +</P> + +<P> +That was a great day for me! +</P> + +<P> +Heretofore I had been looked upon as a squatter: possessing certain +rights, of course, and more or less welcome because of sundry lire +expended for the temporary use of fishing boats with sails up,—but +still an interloper. Now I became one of the thousand families and the +million children. These were all in evidence in less than ten seconds; +the peculiar quality of that scream had done it; not only from the top +story of the highest rookery did they swarm, but from every near-by +campo, and way back to the shipyards. +</P> + +<P> +Luigi pushed the gondola to the quay and I lifted out the water-soaked, +blue-lipped little tot, her hair flattened against her cheeks (she was +laughing now,—"It was nothing," she said, "my foot slipped,") and +placed her in the hands of the longest-armed fishwife; and then Luigi +disappeared into a door, level with the quay, from which he reappeared +ten minutes later in a suit of dry clothes, the property of a +fisherman, and of so grotesque a fit, the trousers reaching to his +knees and the cuffs of the coat to his elbows, that he set the +population in a roar. My Luigi, you might as well know, is six feet and +an inch, with the torso of a Greek god and a face that is twin to +Colleone's, and, furthermore, is quite as distinguished looking as that +gentleman on horseback, even if he does wear a straw hat instead of a +copper helmet. After this Loretta became part of my establishment, +especially at luncheon time, Luigi hunting her up and bringing her +aboard in his arms, she clinging to his grizzled, sunburned neck. Often +she would spend the rest of the day watching me paint. +</P> + +<P> +All I knew of her antecedents and life outside of these visits was what +Luigi told me. She was born, he said, in the shipyards, and at the +moment lived in the top of the rookery nearest the bridge. She had an +only sister, who was ten years older; the mother was the wife of a crab +fisherman who had died some years before; the two children and mother +were cared for by a brother crab fisherman. His son Francesco, if +report were true, was to marry the sister when she turned fifteen, +Francesco being four years older. This last reference to Francesco came +with a shake of the head and a certain expression in Luigi's eyes which +told me at once that his opinion of the prospective groom was not for +publication—a way he has when he dislikes somebody and is too polite +to express it. +</P> + +<P> +"Fishes for crabs, like his father?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, crabs and young girls," he answered with a frown. "A poor lot, +these crab catchers, Signore. Was it the charcoal or a brush you +wanted?" +</P> + +<P> +Francesco did not interest me,—nor did the grownup sister; nor the +mother, over whom Luigi also shrugged his shoulders. It was Loretta's +chubbiness that delighted my soul. +</P> + +<P> +Even at five she was a delightful little body, and full of entrancing +possibilities. One can always tell what the blossom will be from the +bud. In her case, all the essentials of beauty were in evidence: dark, +lustrous velvety eyes; dazzling teeth—not one missing; jet-black +hair—and such a wealth of it, almost to her shoulders; a slender +figure, small hands and feet; neat, well-turned ankles and wrists, and +rounded plump arms above the elbows. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you intend to do, little one, when you grow up?" I asked her +one morning. She was sitting beside me, her eyes following every +movement of my brush. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, what everybody does. I shall string beads and then when I get big +like my sister I shall go to the priest and get married, and have a +ring and new shoes and a beautiful, beautiful veil all over my hair." +</P> + +<P> +"So! And have you picked him out yet?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no, Signore! Why, I am only a little girl. But he will surely +come,—they always come." +</P> + +<P> +These mornings in the gondola continued until she was ten years old. +Sometimes it was a melon held high in the air that tempted her; or a +basket of figs, or some huge bunches of grapes; or a roll and a broiled +fish from a passing cook-boat: but the bait always sufficed. With a +little cry of joy the beads would be dropped, or the neighbor's child +passed to another or whatever else occupied her busy head and small +hands, and away she would run to the water steps and hold out her arms +until Luigi rowed over and lifted her in. She had changed, of course, +in these five years, and was still changing, but only as an expanding +bud changes. The eyes were the same and so were the teeth—if any had +dropped out, newer and better ones had taken their places; the hair +though was richer, fuller, longer, more like coils of liquid jet, with +a blue sheen where the sky lights touched its folds. The tight, trim +little figure, too, had loosened out in certain places—especially +about the chest and hips. Before many years she would flower into the +purest type of the Venetian—the most beautiful woman the world knows. +</P> + +<P> +At sixteen she burst into bloom. +</P> + +<P> +I have never seen a black tulip, not a real velvet-black, but if inside +its shroud of glossy enfoldings—so like Loretta's hair—there lies +enshrined a mouth red as a pomegranate and as enticing, and if above it +there burn two eyes that would make a holy man clutch his rosary; and +if the flower sways on its stalk with the movement of a sapling +caressed by a summer breeze;—then the black tulip is precisely the +kind of flower that Loretta bloomed into. +</P> + +<P> +And here the real trouble began,—just as it begins for every other +pretty Venetian, and here, too, must I place the second pin in my chart. +</P> + +<P> +It all came through Francesco. The older sister had died with the first +child, and this crab catcher had begun to stretch out his claws for +Loretta. She and her mother still lived with Francesco's father, who +was a widower. The mother kept the house for all,—had done so for +Francesco and her daughter during their brief married life. +</P> + +<P> +In her persecution Loretta would pour out her heart to Luigi, telling +how they bothered her,—her mother the most of all. She hated +Francesco,—hated his father,—hated everybody who wanted her to marry +the fisherman. (Luigi, poor fellow, had lost his only daughter when she +was five years of age, which accounted, I always thought, for his +interest in the girl.) +</P> + +<P> +One morning she called to him and waited on the quay until he could +hail a passing barca and step from the gondola to its deck and so +ashore. Then the two disappeared through the gate of the garden. +</P> + +<P> +"She is too pretty to go alone," he explained on his return. "Every day +she must pay a boy two soldi, Signore, to escort her to the lace +factory—the boy is sick today and so I went with her. But their +foolishness will stop after this;—these rats know Luigi." +</P> + +<P> +From this day on Loretta had the Riva to herself. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +II +</H4> + +<P> +So far there has been introduced into this story the bad man, +Francesco, with crab-like tendencies, who has just lost his wife; the +ravishingly beautiful Loretta; the girl's mother, of whom all sorts of +stories were told—none to her credit; big tender-hearted Luigi +Zanaletto, prince of gondoliers, and last, and this time least, a staid +old painter who works in a gondola up a crooked canal which is +smothered in trees, choked by patched-up boats and flanked by tattered +rookeries so shaky that the slightest earth quiver would tumble them +into kindling wood. +</P> + +<P> +There enters now another and much more important character,—one +infinitely more interesting to my beautiful Lady of the Shipyards than +any grandfather gondolier or staid old painter who ever lived. This +young gentleman is twenty-one; has a head like the Hermes, a body like +the fauns, and winsome, languishing eyes with a light in their depths +which have set the heart of every girl along his native Giudecca +pitapatting morning, noon, and night. He enjoys the distinguished name +of Vittorio Borodini, and is the descendant of a family of +gondoliers—of the guild of the Castellani—who can trace their +ancestral calling back some two hundred years (so can Luigi; but then +Luigi never speaks of it, and the Borodinis always do). Being +aristocrats, the Zanalettos and Borodinis naturally fraternize, and as +they live in the same quarter—away up on the Giudecca—two miles from +my canal—the fathers of Vittorio and Luigi have become intimate +friends. Anything, therefore, touching the welfare of any one of the +descendants of so honorable a guild is more or less vital to the +members of both families. +</P> + +<P> +At the moment something HAD touched a Borodino—and in the most vital +of spots. This was nothing less than the heart of young Vittorio, the +pride and hope of his father. He had seen the "Rose of the Shipyards," +as she was now called, pass the traghetto of the Molo, off which lay +his gondola awaiting custom,—it was on one of the days when the +two-soldi boy acted as chaperon,—and his end had come. +</P> + +<P> +It had only been a flash from out the lower corner of the left eye of +Loretta as she floated along past the big columns of the Palazzo of the +Doges, but it had gone through the young gondolier and out on the other +side, leaving a wound that nothing would heal. She had not intended to +hurt him, or even to attract him;—he only happened to be in the way +when her search-light illumined his path. +</P> + +<P> +Vittorio knew at a glance that she came from the rookeries and that he, +the scion of a noble family, should look higher for his mate, but that +made no difference. She was built for him and he was built for her, and +that was the end of it: not for an intrigue—he was not constructed +along those lines—but with a ring and a priest and all the rest of it. +The main difficulty was to find some one who knew her. He would +not,—could not, confront her; nor would he follow her home; but +something must be done, and at once: a conclusion, it will be admitted, +than an incalculable number of young Vittorios have reached, sooner or +later, the world over. +</P> + +<P> +When, therefore, a rumor came to his ears that Luigi the Primo was +protecting her—the kind of protection that could never be +misunderstood in Luigi's case—a piece of news which his informer was +convinced would end the projected intrigue of the young gondolier, then +and there and for all time, Vittorio laughed so loud and so long, and +so merrily, that he lost, in consequence, two fares to San Giorgio, and +came near being reprimanded by the Gastaldo for his carelessness. +</P> + +<P> +That was why late one afternoon (I was painting the sunset glow) just +as Loretta reached the edge of the quay on her way home, a young +fellow, in white duck with a sash of dark red silk binding and hanging +from his waist and a rakish straw hat tipped over his handsome face, +shot his gondola alongside mine and leaned over to whisper something in +Luigi's ear. And that was why the girl in her long black shawl stopped, +and why Luigi immediately changed gondolas and made for the quay, and +why they all talked together for a moment, the girl flashing and the +boy beaming, and that was why, too, they all three disappeared a moment +later in the direction of the high rookery where lived the baffled, +love-sick Francesco, his anxious father, the much-talked-about mother, +and the Rose of the Shipyards. +</P> + +<P> +In a garden where the soil is so rich that a seedling of five—a mere +slip—blooms into flower before a foolish old painter can exhaust the +subjects along the canal, it is not surprising that a love affair +reaches its full growth between two suns. Not since the day she had +tumbled into the canal had she gone so headover-heels—both of them. +Nor did Luigi pull them out. He helped in the drowning, really. +</P> + +<P> +He was talking to himself when he came back—a soft light in his eyes, +a smile lingering around the corners of his up-turned, grizzled +mustache. +</P> + +<P> +"It is good to be young, Signore, is it not?" was all he said, and at +once began bundling up my traps. +</P> + +<P> +Before the week was out,—nay, before the setting of two suns—every +gossip along the Riva—and they about covered the population—had +become convinced that Loretta was lost to the Quarter. Unless a wedding +ring was to end it all Vittorio would never be so bold in his +attentions to Loretta, as to walk home with her nights and wait for her +mornings. +</P> + +<P> +Luigi shook his head, but he did not help the gossips solve the +problem. He had had trouble enough already with Vittorio's father. +</P> + +<P> +"A common wench from the yards, I hear, Luigi!" he had blazed out—"and +you, I understand, brought them together—you,—who have been my friend +for—" +</P> + +<P> +"Stop, Borodini! Not another word! You are angry, and when you are +angry you are stupid. I carried that girl in my arms when she was a +baby! I have watched over her ever since. A wench! Not one of your own +daughters has a heart so white. If Vittorio is so great a coward as to +listen to their talk I'll keep her for his betters." +</P> + +<P> +All this snapped out of Luigi's eyes and rolled from under his crisp +mustache as he repeated the outbreak to me. What the end might be +neither the Giudecca nor San Giuseppe could decide. The Borodinis were +proud; Vittorio's father was one of the gondoliers belonging to the +palace and always rowed the good Queen Margherita when she came +incognito to Venice,—a post which greatly enhanced his social station. +Vittorio was the only son, and already a member of the traghetto, young +as he was. But then, were there any girls better than Loretta, or as +good? She helped her mother; she paid her share of the rent to +Francesco's father; she gave to the poor box. That she was the sunshine +of the Quarter every one knew who heard her sweet, cheery voice. As to +her family, it was true that her mother was a Sicilian who boiled over +sometimes in a tempest of rage, like Vesuvius,—but her father had been +one of them. And then again, was she not the chosen friend of Luigi, +the Primo, and of the crazy painter who haunted the canal? The boy and +his father might be glad, etc., etc. +</P> + +<P> +The only persons who were oblivious to the talk were the two lovers. +Their minds were made up. Father Garola had promised, and they knew +exactly what to do, and when and where to do it. In the meantime the +Riva was a pathway of rose-tinted clouds constructed for the especial +use of two angels, one of whom wore a straw hat with a red ribbon +canted over his sunburnt face, and the other a black shawl with silken +fringe, whose every movement suggested a caress. +</P> + +<P> +The one disgruntled person was Francesco. +</P> + +<P> +He had supposed at first that, like the others, Vittorio would find out +his mistake;—certainly when he looked closely into the pure eyes of +the girl, and that then, like the others, he would give up the +chase;—he not being the first gay Lothario who had been taught just +such a lesson. +</P> + +<P> +Loretta's answer to the schemer, given with a toss of her head and a +curl of her lips, closed Francesco's mouth and set his brain in a +whirl. In his astonishment he had long talks with his father, the two +seated in their boat against the Garden wall so no one could overhear. +</P> + +<P> +Once he approached Luigi and began a tale, first about Vittorio and his +escapades and then about Loretta and her coquetry, which Luigi +strangled with a look, and which he did not discuss or repeat to me, +except to remark—"They have started in to bite, Signore," the meaning +of which I could but guess at. At another time he and his associates +concocted a scheme by which Vittorio's foot was to slip as he was +leaving Loretta at the door, and he be fished out of the canal with his +pretty clothes begrimed with mud;—a scheme which was checked when they +began to examine the young gondolier the closer, and which was entirely +abandoned when they learned that his father was often employed about +the palace of the king. In these projected attacks, strange to say, the +girl's mother took part. Her hope in keeping her home was in Loretta's +marrying Francesco. +</P> + +<P> +Then, dog as he was, he tried the other plan—all this I got from +Luigi, he sitting beside me, sharpening charcoal points, handing me a +fresh brush, squeezing out a tube of color on my palette: nothing like +a romance to a staid old painter; and then, were not both of us in the +conspiracy as abettors, and up to our eyes in the plot? +</P> + +<P> +This other plan was to traduce the girl. So the gondoliers on the +traghetto began to talk,—behind their hands, at first: She had lived +in Francesco's house; she had had a dozen young fishermen trapesing +after her; her mother, too, was none too good. Then again, you could +never trust these Neapolitans,—the kitten might be like the cat, etc., +etc. +</P> + +<P> +Still the lovers floated up and down the Riva, their feet on clouds, +their heads in the heavens. Never a day did he miss, and always with a +wave of her hand to me as they passed: down to Malamocco on Sundays +with another girl as chaperon, or over to Mestre by boat for the festa, +coming home in the moonlight, the tip of his cigarette alone lighting +her face. +</P> + +<P> +One morning—the lovers had only been waiting for their month's +pay—Luigi came sailing down the canal to my lodgings, his gondola in +gala attire,—bunches of flowers tied at each corner of the tenda; a +mass of blossoms in the lamp socket; he himself in his best white suit, +a new red sash around his waist—his own colors—and off we went to San +Rosario up the Giudecca. And the Borodinis turned out in great force, +and so did all the other 'inis, and 'olas, and 'ninos—dozens of +them—and in came Loretta, so beautiful that everybody held his breath; +and we all gathered about the altar, and good Father Garola stepped +down and took their hands; and two candles were lighted and a little +bell rang; and then somebody signed a book—somebody with the bearing +of a prince—Borodini, I think—and then Luigi, his rich, sunburned +face and throat in contrast with his white shirt, moved up and affixed +his name to the register; and then a door opened on the side and they +all went out into the sunlight. +</P> + +<P> +I followed and watched the gay procession on its way to the waiting +boats. As I neared the corner of the church a heavily-built young +fellow ran past me, crouched to the pavement, and hid himself behind +one of the tall columns. Something in his dress and movement made me +stop. Not being sure, I edged nearer and waited until he turned his +head. It was Francesco. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +III +</H4> + +<P> +The skies were never more beautiful that May, the blossoms of the +oleanders and the almond trees never more lovely. Not only was my own +canal alive with the stir and fragrance of the coming summer, but all +Venice bore the look of a bride who had risen from her bath, drawn +aside the misty curtain of the morning, and stood revealed in all her +loveliness. +</P> + +<P> +The sun shone everywhere, I say, but to me its brightest rays fell on a +garden full of fig trees and flat arbors interwoven with grapevines, +running down to the water where there was a dock and a gondola—two, +sometimes,—our own and Vittorio's—and particularly on a low, +two-story, flat-roofed house,—a kaleidoscope of color—pink, yellow, +and green, with three rooms and a portico, in which lived Vittorio, a +bird in a cage, a kitten-cat and the Rose of the Shipyards. +</P> + +<P> +It is a long way round to my canal through San Trovaso to the Zattere +and across the Giudecca to Ponte Lungo, and then along the edge of the +lagoon to this garden and dovecote, but that is the precise route +Luigi, who lived within a stone's throw of the couple, selected morning +after morning. He always had an excuse:—he had forgotten the big +bucket for my water cups, or the sail, or the extra chair; and would +the Signore mind going back for his other oar? Then again the tide was +bad, and after all we might as well row down the lagoon; it was easier +and really shorter with the wind against us—all nonsense, of course, +but I never objected. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, the Signore and dear Luigi!" she would cry when she caught sight +of our gondola rounding into the landing. Then down the path she would +skip, the joyous embodiment of beauty and grace, and help me out, Luigi +following; and we would stroll up under the fig trees, and she would +begin showing me this and that new piece of furniture, or pot, or +kettle, or new bread knife, or scissors, or spoon, which Vittorio had +added to their store since my last visit. Or I would find them both +busy over the gondola,—he polishing his brasses and ferro, and she +rehanging the curtains of the tenda which she had washed and ironed +with her own hands. +</P> + +<P> +In truth it was a very happy little nest that was tucked away in one +corner of that old abandoned garden with its outlook on the broad water +and its connecting link with the row of neighbors' houses flanking the +side canal,—and no birds in or out of any nest in all Venice ever sang +so long and so continuously nor were there any others so genuinely +happy the livelong day and night as these two. +</P> + +<P> +Did I not know something of the curious mixture of love, jealousy, and +suspicion which goes into the making-up of an Italian, it would be hard +for me to believe that so lovely a structure as this dovecote, one +built with so much hope and alight with so much real happiness, could +ever come tumbling to the ground. We Anglo-Saxons flame up indignantly +when those we love are attacked, and we demand proofs. "Critica," that +bane of Venetian life—what this, that, or the other neighbor tattles +to this, that, and the other listener, we dismiss with a wave of the +hand, or with fingers tight clenched close to the offender's lips, or +by a blow in the face. Not so the Italian. He also blazes, but he will +stop and wonder when his anger has cooled; think of this and that; put +two and two together, and make ten of what is really only four. This is +what happened to the nest under the grapevines. +</P> + +<P> +I was in my own garden at the Britannia leaning over the marble +balcony, wondering what kept Luigi—it was past ten o'clock—when the +news reached me. I had caught sight of his white shirt and straw hat as +he swung out behind the Salute and headed straight toward me, and saw +from the way he gripped his oar and stretched his long body flat with +the force of each thrust, that he had a message of importance, even +before I saw his face. +</P> + +<P> +"A Dio, Signore!" he cried. "What do you think? Vittorio has cursed +Loretta, torn her wedding ring from her finger, and thrown it in her +face!" +</P> + +<P> +"Vittorio!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes,—he will listen to nothing! He is a crazy fool and I have done +all I could. He believes every one of the lies that crab-catching brute +of a Francesco is telling. It would be over by to-night, but Loretta +does not take it like the others: she says nothing. You know her +eyes—they are not like our Giudecca girls. They are burning now like +two coals of fire, and her cheeks are like chalk." +</P> + +<P> +I had stepped into the gondola by this time, my first thought being how +best to straighten out the quarrel. +</P> + +<P> +"Now tell me, Luigi—speak slowly, so I do not miss a word. First, +where is Loretta?" +</P> + +<P> +"She was putting on her best clothes when I left—those she bought +herself. She will touch nothing Vittorio gave her. She is going back to +her mother in an hour." +</P> + +<P> +"But what happened? Has Francesco—?" +</P> + +<P> +"Francesco has not stopped one minute since the wedding. He has been +talking to the fish-people,—to everybody on the side street, saying +that Loretta was his old shoes that he left at his door, and the fool +Vittorio found them and put them on—that sort of talk." +</P> + +<P> +"And Vittorio believes it?" +</P> + +<P> +"He did not at first,—but twice Francesco came to see Loretta with +messages from her mother, and went sneaking off when Vittorio came up +in his boat, and then that night some one would tell him—'that fellow +meets Loretta every day;' that he was her old lover. These people on +the Giudecca do not like the San Giuseppe people, and there is always +jealousy. If Vittorio had married any one from his own quarter it would +have been different. You don't know these people, Signore,—how +devilish they can be and how stupid." +</P> + +<P> +"That was why he threw the ring in her face?" +</P> + +<P> +"No and yes. Yesterday was Sunday, and some people came to see her from +San Giuseppe, and they began to talk. I was not there; I did not get +there until it was all over, but my wife heard it. They were all in the +garden, and one word led to another, and he taunted her with seeing +Francesco, and she laughed, and that made him furious; and then he said +he had heard her mother was a nobody; and then some one spoke up and +said that was true—fools all. And then Loretta, she drew herself up +straight and asked who it was had said so, and a woman's voice +came—'Francesco,—he told me—' and then Vittorio cried—'And you meet +him here. Don't deny it! And you love him, too!—' and then the fool +sprang at her and caught her hand and tore the ring from her finger and +spat on it and threw it on the ground. He is now at his father's house." +</P> + +<P> +"And she said nothing, Luigi?" The story seemed like some horrible +dream. +</P> + +<P> +"No, nor shed a tear. All she did was to keep repeating—'Francesco! +Francesco! Francesco!' I got there at daylight this morning and have +been there ever since. I told her I was coming for you. She was sitting +in a chair when I went in,—bolt up; she had not been in her bed. She +seems like one in a trance—looked at me and held out her hand. I tried +to talk to her and tell her it was all a lie, but she only +answered—'Ask Francesco,—it is all Francesco,—ask Francesco.' Hurry, +Signore,—we will miss her if we go to her house. We will go at once to +our canal and wait for her. They have heard nothing down there at San +Giuseppe, and you can talk to her without being interrupted, and then +I'll get hold of Vittorio. This way, Signore." +</P> + +<P> +I had hardly reached the water landing of my canal ten minutes later +when I caught sight of her, coming directly toward me, head up, her +lips tight-set, her black shawl curving and floating with every +movement of her body—(nothing so wonderfully graceful and nothing so +expressive of the wearer's moods as these black shawls of the +Venetians). She wore her gala dress—the one in which she was +married—white muslin with ribbons of scarlet, her wonderful hair in a +heap above her forehead, her long gold earrings glinting in the +sunshine. All the lovelight had died out of her eyes. In its place were +two deep hollows rimmed about by dark lines, from out which flashed two +points of cold steel light. +</P> + +<P> +I sprang from my gondola and held out my hand: +</P> + +<P> +"Sit down, Loretta, and let me talk to you." +</P> + +<P> +She stopped, looked at me in a dazed sort of way, as if she was trying +to focus my face so as to recall me to her memory, and said in a +determined way: +</P> + +<P> +"No, let me pass. It's too late for all that, Signore. I am—" +</P> + +<P> +"But wait until you hear me." +</P> + +<P> +"I will hear nothing until I find Francesco." +</P> + +<P> +"You must not go near him. Get into the gondola and let Luigi and me +take you home." +</P> + +<P> +A dry laugh rose to her lips. "Home! There is no home any more. See! My +ring is gone! Francesco is the one I want—now—-NOW! He knows I am +coming,—I sent him word. Don't hold me, Signore,—don't touch me!" +</P> + +<P> +She was gone before I could stop her, her long, striding walk +increasing almost to a run, her black shawl swaying about her limbs as +she hurried toward her old home at the end of the quay. Luigi started +after her, but I called him back. Nothing could be done until her fury, +or her agony, had spent itself. These volcanoes are often short-lived. +We looked after her until she had reached the door and had flung +herself across the threshold. Then I sent Luigi for my easel and began +work. +</P> + +<P> +The events that have made the greatest impression upon me all my life +have been those which have dropped out of the sky,—the unexpected, the +incomprehensible,—the unnecessary—the fool things—the damnably +idiotic things. +</P> + +<P> +First we heard a cry that caused Luigi to drop canvas and easel, and +sent us both flying down the quay toward the rookery. It came from +Loretta's mother;—she was out on the sidewalk tearing her hair; +calling on God; uttering shriek after shriek. The quay and bridge were +a mass of people—some looking with staring eyes, the children hugging +their mothers' skirts. Two brawny fishermen were clearing the way to +the door. Luigi and I sprang in behind them, and entered the house. +</P> + +<P> +On the stone floor of the room lay the body of Francesco, his head +stretched back, one hand clutching the bosom of his shirt. Against the +wall stood Loretta; not a quiver on her lips; ghastly white; calm,—the +least excited person in the room. +</P> + +<P> +"And you killed him!" I cried. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes,—he thought I came to kiss him—I did, WITH THIS!" and she tossed +a knife on the table. +</P> + +<P> +The days that followed were gray days for Luigi and me. All the light +and loveliness were gone from my canal. +</P> + +<P> +They took Loretta to the prison next the Bridge of Sighs and locked her +up in one of the mouldy cells below the water line—dark, dismal +pockets where, in the old days, men died of terror. +</P> + +<P> +Vittorio, Luigi, and I met there the next morning. I knew the chief +officer, and he had promised me an interview. Vittorio was +crying,—rubbing his knuckles in his eyes,—utterly broken up and +exhausted. He and Luigi had spent the night together. An hour before, +the two had stood at Francesco's bedside in the hospital of San Paulo. +Francesco was still alive, and with Father Garola bending over him had +repeated his confession to them both. He was madly in love with her, he +moaned, and had spread the report hoping that Vittorio would cast her +off, and, having no other place to go, Loretta would come back to him. +At this Vittorio broke into a rage and would have strangled the dying +man had not the attendant interfered. All this I learned from Luigi as +we waited for the official. +</P> + +<P> +"This is a frightful ending to a happy life—" I began when the officer +appeared. "Let them talk to each other for just a few moments. It can +do no harm." +</P> + +<P> +The official shook his head. "It is against orders, Signore, I cannot. +He can see her when she is brought up for examination." +</P> + +<P> +"They will both have lost their senses by that time," I pleaded. "Can't +you think of some way? I have known her from a child. Perhaps an order +from headquarters might be of some use." We were standing, at the time, +in a long corridor ending in a door protected by an iron grating. This +led to the underground cells. +</P> + +<P> +The chief fastened his eyes on me for an instant, turned abruptly, +called to an attendant, gave an order in a low voice and, with the +words to Vittorio—"You are not to speak to her, remember," motioned +the sobbing man toward the grating. Luigi and I followed. +</P> + +<P> +She came slowly out of the shadows, first the drawn face peering ahead, +as if wondering why she had been sent for, then the white crumpled +dress, and then the dark eyes searching the gloom of the corridor. +Vittorio had caught sight of her and was clinging to the grating, his +body shaking, his tears blinding him. +</P> + +<P> +The girl gave a half-smothered cry, darted forward and covered +Vittorio's hands with her own. Some whispered word must have followed, +for the old light broke over her face and she would have cried out for +joy had not Luigi cautioned her. For a moment the two stood with +fingers intertwined, their bowed foreheads kept apart by the cold +grating. Then the boy, straining his face between the bars, as if to +reach her lips, loosened one hand, took something from his pocket and +slipped it over her finger. +</P> + +<P> +It was her wedding ring. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +IV +</H4> + +<P> +Summer has faded, the gold of autumn has turned to brown, and the raw, +cold winds of winter have whirled the dead leaves over rookeries, quay, +and garden. The boats rock at their tethers and now and then a sea gull +darts through the canal and sweeps on to the lagoon. In the narrow +opening fronting the broad waters lawless waves quarrel and clash, +forcing their way among the frightened ripples of San Giuseppe, ashy +gray under the lowering sky. +</P> + +<P> +All these months a girl has clung to an iron grating or has lain on a +pallet in one corner of her cell. Once in a while she presses her lips +to a ring on her left hand, her face lighting up. Sometimes she breaks +out into a song, continuing until the keeper checks her. +</P> + +<P> +Then spring comes. +</P> + +<P> +And with it the painter from over the sea. +</P> + +<P> +All the way from Milan as far as Verona, and beyond, there have been +nothing but blossoms,—masses of blossoms,—oleander, peach, and almond. +</P> + +<P> +When the train reaches Mestre and the cool salt air fans his cheek, he +can no longer keep his seat, so eager is he to catch the first glimpse +of his beloved city,—now a string of pearls on the bosom of the lagoon. +</P> + +<P> +Luigi has the painter's hand before his feet can touch the platform. +</P> + +<P> +"Good news, Signore!" he laughs, patting my shoulder. "She is free!" +</P> + +<P> +"Loretta!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes,—she and Vittorio are back in their garden. Borodini told the +whole story to the good Queen Mother when she came at Easter, and the +king pardoned her." +</P> + +<P> +"Pardoned her! And Francesco dead!" +</P> + +<P> +"Dead! No such good luck, Signore,—that brute of a crab-fisher got +well!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="redlead"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A COAT OF RED LEAD +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +I +</H4> + +<P> +My offices are on the top floor of a high building overlooking the East +River and the harbor beyond—not one of those skyscrapers punctured +with windows all of the same size, looking from a distance like huge +waffles set up on end—note the water-line of New York the next time +you cross the ferry and see if you don't find the waffles—but an +old-fashioned sort of a high building of twenty years ago—old as the +Pyramids now, with a friendly janitor who comes to me when I send for +him instead of my going to his "Office" when he sends for me; friendly +elevator boys who poke their heads from out their iron cages and wait +five seconds until I reach them, and an obliging landlord who lets me +use his telephone. +</P> + +<P> +Mawkum, my chief draftsman—when you have only one it is best to label +him "Chief" to your clients; they think the others are off building +bridges for foreign governments, or lunching at Delmonico's with +railroad presidents—my chief draftsman, I say, occupies the room +opening into mine. His outlook is a brick wall decorated with windows, +behind which can be seen various clerks poring over huge ledgers, a +section of the roof topped with a chimney, and in the blue perspective +the square, squat tower of the Produce Exchange in which hangs a clock. +Both of these connecting rooms open on the same corridor, a convenient +arrangement when clients wish to escape without being seen, or for the +concealing of bidders who are getting plans and specifications for the +same tenders, especially when two of them happen to turn up at the same +moment. +</P> + +<P> +Mawkum manages this, and with such adroitness that I have often seen +clients, under the impression that the drafting-room was full, sit +patiently in my office and take their turn while he quietly munches his +sandwich behind closed panels—an illusion sustained by a loud +"Good-morning" from my chief addressed to the circumambient air, +followed by the slamming of the corridor door. When I remonstrate with +Mawkum, insisting that such subterfuges are beneath the dignity of the +office, he contends that they help business, and in proof quotes the +old story of the unknown dentist who compelled a suffering prince to +call the next day at noon, claiming that his list was full, when +neither man, woman nor child had been in his chair for over a +week—fame and fortune being his ever after. +</P> + +<P> +When Mawkum gets tired of inspecting the brick wall and the industrious +clerks and the face of the clock, he strolls leisurely into my room, +plants himself at my window—this occurs during one of those calms that +so often come to an office between contracts—and spends hours in +contemplating the view. +</P> + +<P> +To me the stretch of sky and water, with its dividing band of roof, +tower and wharf, stretching from the loop of steel—that spider-web of +the mighty—to the straight line of the sea, is a never-ending delight. +In the early morning its broken outline is softened by a veil of silver +mist embroidered with puffs of steam; at midday the glare of light +flashing from the river's surface makes silhouettes of the +ferry-shuttles threading back and forth weaving the city's life; at +twilight the background of purple is bathed in the glory of the sunset, +while at night myriads of fireflies swarm and settle, tracing in +pencillings of fire the plan of the distant town. +</P> + +<P> +Mawkum, being commercially disposed, sees none of these things; his +gaze is fixed on the panting tugs towing chains of canal boats; on the +great floats loaded with cars and the stately steamers slowing down +opposite their docks. Today he develops an especial interest. +</P> + +<P> +"That's the Tampico in from Caracas and the Coast," he says, leaning +across my desk, his fat hand resting on my letter file. "She's loaded +pretty deep. Hides and tallow, I guess. 'Bout time we heard from that +Moccador Lighthouse, isn't it? Lawton's last letter said we could look +for his friend in a month—about due now. Wish he'd come." And he +yawned wearily. +</P> + +<P> +Mawkum's yawn indicated the state of his mind. He had spent the +previous three weeks in elaborating the plans and specifications for a +caisson to be used under a bridge pier—our client assuring him that he +had, to use his own words, "a dead sure thing on the award." When the +bids were opened, Mawkum congratulated him on his foresight and offered +to attend the funeral in a body, the client's bid being some thirty per +cent too high. Little episodes like this add a touch of gayety to the +hours spent in the top of the high building. +</P> + +<P> +Mawkum's yawn over—it is generally in three sections, but can +sometimes be curtailed—I interrupted hurriedly with: +</P> + +<P> +"What sort of a structure is it?" I knew, but I wanted some other +employment for his mouth. +</P> + +<P> +"First order, screw pile, about a hundred and twenty feet high, stuck +on a coral reef at the mouth of the harbor. 'Bout like our Fowey Rocks, +off the Florida coast. She's backing in." His eyes were still on the +Tampico, the floes of North River ice hemming her in on all sides. +"Passengers'll be off in an hour. Wonder how they like our +climate—little chilly for pajamas." +</P> + +<P> +Here Mawkum strolled into his room and began overhauling the contents +of a rack of drawings piled one on top of the other like cordwood, +labelled: "Screw Pile Structures." +</P> + +<P> +The next morning there came a timid knock at Mawkum's door—the knock +of a child with matches to sell, or of one of those dear sisters who +collect for the poor. At a second summons, a little louder than the +first, the chief, with an impatient air, slid from the high stool +facing his drawing board, and threw wide the door. +</P> + +<P> +I craned my head and discovered a small, ivory-tinted individual in a +Panama hat, duck trousers and patent-leather shoes. Wrapped about his +shrivelled frame, one red-lined end tossed gallantly over his shoulder, +was an enormous Spanish capa. This hid every part of his body from his +chin to the knees of his cotton ducks. From where I sat he looked like +a conspirator in the play, or the assassin who lies in wait up the dark +alley. Once inside he wrinkled his shoulders with the shivering +movement of a horse dislocating a fly, dropped the red-lined end of the +capa, removed his Panama and began a series of genuflections which +showed me at once that he had been born among a people who imbibed +courtesy with their mother's, or their cocoanut's, milk. +</P> + +<P> +"I am look' for the Grandioso Engineer," said the visitor. "I am Senor +Garlicho—" Then a shade of uncertainty crossed his face: Mawkum was +still staring at him. "It is a mistake then, perhaps? I have a letter +from Senor Law-TON. Is it not to the great designer of lighthouse which +I speak?" This came with more bows—one almost to the floor. +</P> + +<P> +The mention of Lawton's name brought Mawkum to his senses. He placed +his fat hand on his vest, crooked his back, and without the slightest +allusion to the fact that the original and only Grandioso occupied the +adjoining room, motioned the visitor to a seat and opened the letter. +</P> + +<P> +I thought now it was about time I should assert my rights. Pushing back +my chair, I walked rapidly through my own and Mawkum's room and held +out my hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, Senor, I am delighted to meet you," I broke out in Spanish. (Here +I had Mawkum—he did not understand a word.) "We have been expecting +you; our mutual friend, Mr. Lawton, has given me notice of your +coming—and how is the Senor and his family?" And in a few minutes we +three were seated at my desk with Mawkum unrolling plans, making +sketches on a pad, figuring the cost of this and that and the other +thing; I translating for Mawkum such statements as I thought he ought +to know, thus restoring the discipline and dignity of the office—it +never being wise to have more than one head to a concern. +</P> + +<P> +This partial victory was made complete when his ivory-tinted Excellency +loosened his waistcoat, dived into his inside pocket and, producing a +package of letters tied with a string, the envelopes emblazoned with +the arms and seal of the Republic of Moccador, asked if we might be +alone. I immediately answered, both in Spanish and English, that I had +no secrets from Senor Mawkum, but this did not prove satisfactory and +so Mawkum, with a wink to me, withdrew. +</P> + +<P> +Mawkum gone, the little man—it is inconceivable how small and withered +he was; how yellow, how spidery in many of his motions, especially with +his fingers stained with cigarettes, how punctilious, how polite, how +soft and insinuating his voice, and how treacherous his smile—a smile +that smiled all alone by itself, while the cunning, glittering eyes +recorded an entirely different brain suggestion—Mawkum gone, I say, +the little man examined the door to see that it was tight shut, glanced +furtively about the room, resumed his seat, slowly opened the largest +and most flaringly decorated envelope and produced a document signed +with a name and titles that covered half the page. Then he began to +talk at the rate of fifty words to the second; like the rattle of a +ticker in a panic: of Alvarez, the saviour of his country—his +friend!—his partner; of the future of Moccador under his wise and +beneficent influence, the Lighthouse being one of the first +improvements; of its being given to him to erect because of his loyalty +to the cause, and to the part he had taken in overturning that despot, +the Tyrant Paramba, who had ruled the republic with a rod of iron. Now +it was all over—Paramba was living in the swamps, hunted like a dog. +When he was caught—and they expected it every day—he would be brought +to the capital, San Juan, in chains—yes, Senor, in chains—and put to +work on the roads, so that everybody could spit upon him—traitor! +Beast, that he was! And there would be other lighthouses—the whole +coast was to be as light as day. Senor Law-TON had said he could speak +with perfect confidence—he was doing so, trusting to the honor of the +Grandiose—the most distinguished—etc., etc. And now—this in a +summing-up voice with a slower movement, about twenty words to the +second—would the Grandioso go in as a partner in these ventures? The +income he could assure me would be so fixed that the light dues alone +would pay for the structure in two years—think of it, Senor, in two +years—perhaps less!—and forever after we could both sit down and +receive a small fortune, I by the Tampico in drafts signed by his +Excellency, and he in his own hacienda surrounded by the patriots who +honored him and the wife and children he adored. +</P> + +<P> +At mention of the partnership a vague, cloudy expression crossed my +face; my companion caught it, and continued: +</P> + +<P> +Or (again the voice slowed down) I would be paid for the structure on +its erection by me on the reef. +</P> + +<P> +Again my eyes wandered, and again he took the cue: +</P> + +<P> +Or—if that was not satisfactory—he would be willing to pay for the +ironwork alone as soon as it arrived in the harbor of San Juan. +</P> + +<P> +My Spanish is more like an old uniform that is rubbed up for a parade +and then put away in camphor. Much of his talk was therefore lost on +me; but the last sentences were as clear as if they had dropped from +the lips of my old teacher, Senor Morales. +</P> + +<P> +Half-rising from my chair, I placed my hand over my shirt-front and +thanked his Excellency for his confidence—really one of the greatest +compliments that had ever been paid me in all my professional career. +To be at once the partner of two such distinguished caballeros as +General Alvarez, the saviour of his country, and my distinguished +guest, was an honor that few men could resist, but—BUT—here I picked +up a lead pencil and a pad—BUT—the only way I could permit myself to +rob him of his just desserts would be—here I traced a few lines on the +pad—would be—my voice now became impressive—to receive one-third +when it was erected in the yard in Brooklyn, and the balance on +delivery of the bills of lading to his agent; payments to be made by +his distinguished Excellency's bankers in New York. +</P> + +<P> +If the modification of terms in any way disappointed the gentleman from +San Juan, my closest observation of his smile and glance failed to +detect it. He merely quivered his shoulders—a sort of plural +shrug—rolled his cigarette tighter between his thumb and forefinger, +remarked that the memoranda were entirely satisfactory, and folding the +paper slid it carefully into his pocket; then with a series of salaams +that reminded me of a Mohammedan spreading a prayer rug, and an "A +Dios, Senor," the ivory-tinted individual withdrew. +</P> + +<P> +A week later Mawkum, carrying a tin case addressed to his sun-dried +Excellency, passed up the gangplank of the Tampico; this he placed in +that gentleman's hands. Inside its soldered top were the plans and +specifications of a First Order Light, to be made of iron, to be +properly packed, and to have three coats of red lead before +shipment—together with a cross-section of foundation to be placed on +the reef known as "La Garra de Lobo"—The Claw of the Wolf—outside the +harbor of San Juan—all at the risk of his Supreme Excellency, Senor +Tomas Correntes Garlicho, of the Republic of Moccador, South +America—the price of the ironwork to hold good for three months. +</P> + +<P> +On his return to the office Mawkum took up his position once more at my +window, waited until the Tampico, the case and his Excellency were well +on their way to Sandy Hook and started in on other work. The next day +the incident, like so many similar ventures—his racks were full of +just such estimates—was forgotten. If any of the bread thus cast upon +the waters came back, the chief would be glad, and so would the +Grandioso; if not, we were both willing to cut a fresh slice to keep it +company. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +II +</H4> + +<P> +Four months passed. The ice was out of the river; the steam heat had +been turned off in the high building and the two time-worn awnings had +been fixed to my windows by the obliging janitor. The Tampico had come +and gone, and had come again. Its arrivals, and departures were, as +usual, always commented upon by Mawkum, generally in connection with +"That Bunch of Dried Garlic," that being the irreverent way in which he +spoke of his ivory-tinted Excellency. Otherwise the lighthouse, and all +that pertained to it, had become ancient history. +</P> + +<P> +One lovely spring morning—one of those warm mornings when every window +and door is wide open to get the breeze from Sandy Hook and +beyond—another visitor stepped into Mawkum's room. He brought no +letters of introduction, nor did he confine himself to his mother +tongue, although his nationality was as apparent as that of his +predecessor. Neither did he possess a trace of Garlicho's affability or +polish. On the contrary, he conducted himself like a muleteer, and +spoke with the same sort of brutal authority. +</P> + +<P> +And the differences did not stop here. Garlicho was shrivelled and +sun-dried. This man was round and plump—plump as a stuffed olive +fished from a jar of oil, and as shiny; dark-skinned, with a pair of +heavy eyebrows that met over a stub of a nose ending in a knob; two +keen rat eyes, a mouth hidden by a lump of a mustache black as tar, and +a sagging, flabby chin which slunk into his collar. Next came a +shirt-front soiled and crumpled, and then the rest of him in a suit of +bombazine. +</P> + +<P> +"You designed a lighthouse some months ago for Mr. Garlicho, of San +Juan," he blurted out with hardly an accent. "I arrived this morning by +the Tampico. My name is Carlos Onativia." And he laid a thin, elongated +piece of cardboard on Mawkum's desk. +</P> + +<P> +Only the arrival of a South American fresh from the Republic of +Moccador, with a spade designed to dig up a long-buried treasure could +have robbed Mawkum of his habitual caution of always guarding plans and +estimates from outsiders—a custom which was really one of the +fundamental laws of the office. The indiscretion was no doubt helped by +the discovery that the owner of the spade spoke English, a fact which +freed him at once of all dependence on the superior lingual attainments +possessed by the Grandioso in the adjoining room. +</P> + +<P> +Down came the duplicate blue-prints without a word of protest or any +further inquiry, and before I could reach the inquirer's side and be +properly introduced—I did not want to interfere too abruptly—Mawkum +had not only unrolled the elevation and cross-sections, but had handed +out a memorandum showing the estimate of cost. +</P> + +<P> +Onativia acknowledged my presence with a slight bob of his head, +loosened the upper button of his coat, fished up a pair of glasses, +stuck them on the knob end of his nose, and began devouring the plans +in a way that showed both of us that it was not the first time he had +looked over a set of blue-prints. +</P> + +<P> +"This estimate is for the ironwork alone," the stranger said, "and is, +as you see, good for three months. The time, as you will note, has +expired. Do you now ask for an additional sum, or will the price +stand?" All this in the tone of a Tombs lawyer cross-examining a +witness. +</P> + +<P> +Mawkum murmured that, as there had been no advance in the cost of the +raw material, the price would stand. +</P> + +<P> +"Very well. And now, what, in your judgment, should be added for the +cost of erection?" +</P> + +<P> +"Can't say," answered Mawkum; "don't know the coast or kind of labor, +or the bottom of the reef—may be coral, may be hard-pan, may be sand. +Do YOU know?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—the coast is an ugly one, except four months in the year. Site is +twelve miles from San Juan, exposed to the rake of the sea; bottom +coral, I understand; labor cheap and good for nothing, and appliances +none—except what can be shipped from here." This came with the air of +one who knew. +</P> + +<P> +I now took charge of the negotiations: +</P> + +<P> +"We have refused to erect the structure or be responsible for it after +it leaves our dock. We told Senor Garlicho so." +</P> + +<P> +Onativia lowered his chin, arched his eyebrows and looked at me over +his glasses. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want you to erect it," he said in a purring tone with a +patronizing strain through it. "I'll do that. What I want to know is +what it would cost HERE? That's what I came to New York to find out." +</P> + +<P> +"Has Senor Garlicho been awarded the contract?" I asked. It was useless +to distribute any more bread upon the waters; certainly not on the +ripples washing the shores of Moccador. If there were any business in +sight I could very easily give either one of them an approximate cost; +if there were none the bakery was closed. +</P> + +<P> +"No, Senor Garlicho has NOT been awarded the contract. I am here to +keep the affair alive. If I had thought it necessary I would have +brought a certified check with me drawn to your order, which I would +have handed you with my card. The standing of your firm prevented my +doing so. This is business, and I want to get back home as quick as +possible. Our coast is a dangerous one and the loss of life increases +every year. Do you want this matter hung up for six weeks until we can +communicate with Mr. Garlicho? Every hour's delay in putting the light +on the Lobo means that many more deaths." As he spoke a peculiar smile +struggled from under his black dab of a mustache, got as far as the +base of his nose and there collapsed. +</P> + +<P> +My duty was now clear. Senor Garlicho, for some reason unknown to me, +had waited until his option had expired and had then sent Onativia in +his place. This wiped out the past and made a new deal necessary—one +which included the price of erection on the reef, a point which had not +been raised in the former negotiation. +</P> + +<P> +"All right," I said, "you shall have the estimate. What you want is the +cost of erecting a structure like the one here in the plans. Well, if +it was to be put on our Florida coast, where I think the conditions are +somewhat similar to those you describe, I would advise you to add about +one hundred thousand dollars to the cost of the ironwork." +</P> + +<P> +"Is that safe?" Again the smile worked itself loose. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," I replied, "if you don't lose your plant too often by bad +weather. We have warnings of our coast storms and can provide against +them. I don't know anything about yours—what are they like?" +</P> + +<P> +"They come suddenly and without warning," he rejoined; "typhoons, +generally, with the tiles rattling off the roofs and the natives +hugging the cocoanut trees." With this he turned to the plans again. +"Better add another twenty thousand—I want to be safe," he said, in a +tone that showed me he had at last made up his mind. +</P> + +<P> +I added it, marking the sum on the memorandum which Mawkum had given +him. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, please put that in writing over your signature. I'll call +to-morrow at ten for the document. Good-day." +</P> + +<P> +When he was well down the corridor—we waited really until we heard the +down-chug of the elevator—Mawkum looked at me and gave a low whistle. +</P> + +<P> +"Add another twenty! What do you think is up? That Bunch of Garlic is +working some funny business, or he wouldn't have sent that brigand up +here." +</P> + +<P> +I ruminated for a moment, walked to the window and took in the brick +wall, the clerks and the clock tower. Frankly, I did not know what +Garlicho was up to. It was the first time that any passenger by the +Tampico, or any other steamer, from any quarter of the globe, had asked +either Mawkum or myself to add one penny to the cost of anything. The +effort heretofore had been to cut down each item to the last cent. Was +the ivory-tinted gentleman going to build the lighthouse at his own +expense out of loyalty to President Alvarez, the saviour of his +country, and then donate it to the Government, using our estimate to +prove the extent of his generosity? Or was there a trick somewhere? I +decided to sound Senor Onativia the next morning, and find out. +</P> + +<P> +I had not long to wait. He arrived on the minute, bobbed to Mawkum, +drew a chair to my desk and squared, or rather rounded, his body in +front of me. +</P> + +<P> +"I will now tell you what I omitted to say yesterday," he began. "When +an order comes for this lighthouse—and it will arrive by the next +steamer—it will not be signed by Senor Garlicho, but by me. I have +reasons for this which I cannot explain, and which are not necessary +for you to know. The ironwork—all you will have to furnish—will also +be shipped in my name. With the order will be sent a letter introducing +my bankers, who will call upon you at your convenience, and who will +pay the amounts in the way you desire—one-third on the signing of the +contract (one of the firm will act as my agent), one-third on erection +and inspection of the ironwork properly put together in the yard, and +the balance on delivery to them of the bills of lading. Is that quite +satisfactory?" +</P> + +<P> +I bowed my head in answer. +</P> + +<P> +"And have you signed your estimate showing what you consider to be a +fair price for both the lighthouse itself and for the cost of its +erection on the Lobo Reef?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; there it is," and I pointed to the document lying on my desk. +"And now one word, please. When did you last see Mr. Lawton? He's our +agent, you know, and you must have met him in connection with this +matter. When Senor Garlicho arrived he brought us a letter from him." +</P> + +<P> +Onativia's lips curled slightly as he recognized the hidden meaning of +the inquiry, but his expression never changed. +</P> + +<P> +"I have never seen him. If I had I should not have wasted my time in +getting a letter from him or from anybody else. As to Senor Garlicho, +his time has expired; he has not asked for its renewal, and so far as +this deal is concerned he does not count. I am here, as I told you, to +keep the affair alive. I would have come sooner, but I have been away +from the city of San Juan for months. Most of us who have opinions of +our own have been away from San Juan—some for years. San Juan has not +been a healthy place for men who believe in Paramba." +</P> + +<P> +"And do you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Absolutely. So do thousands of our citizens." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't seem to agree with Senor Garlicho, then. He thought your +former president, Paramba, a tyrant. As for President Alvarez, he +looked upon him as the saviour of his country." +</P> + +<P> +The lips had full play now, the smile of contempt wrinkling up to his +eyelids. +</P> + +<P> +"Saviour of his country! Saviour of his pocket! Pardon me; I am not +here to discuss the polities of our people. Is this your estimate?" And +he reached over and picked it from my desk. "Ah, yes: forty thousand +dollars for the ironwork; one hundred and twenty thousand for the +erection on the Lobo Reef; one hundred and sixty thousand in all. Thank +you." Here he tucked the paper in his pocket and rose from his seat. +"You will hear from me in a month, perhaps earlier. Good-day." And he +waddled out. +</P> + +<P> +The return of the Tampico six weeks later brought another South +American consignment. This was a roll of plans concealed in a tin +case—the identical package which Mawkum had handed the "Bunch of Dried +Garlic" months before, together with a document stamped, restamped and +stamped again, containing an order in due form, signed "Carlos +Onativia," for a lighthouse to be erected on the "Garra de Lobo"—this +last was in red ink—with shipping directions, etc., etc. +</P> + +<P> +With it came the clerk of the bankers (he had the case under his arm), +a reputable concern within a stone's throw of my office, who signed the +contract and paid the first instalment. +</P> + +<P> +Then followed the erection of the ironwork in the Brooklyn yard; its +inspection by the engineer appointed by the bankers; its dismemberment +and final coat of red lead—each tie-rod and beam red as sticks of +sealing-wax—its delivery, properly bundled and packed, aboard a +sailing vessel bound for San Juan, and the payment of the last +instalment. +</P> + +<P> +This closed the transaction, so far as we were concerned. +</P> + +<P> +A year passed—two of them, in fact—during which time no news of any +kind reached us of the lighthouse. Mawkum kept the duplicate blue-print +of the elevation tacked on the wall over his desk to show our clients +the wide range of our business, and I would now and then try to +translate the newspapers which Lawton sent by every mail. These would +generally refer to the dissatisfaction felt by many of the Moccadorians +over the present government, one editorial, as near as I could make +out, going so far as to hint that a secret movement was on foot to oust +the "Usurper" Alvarez and restore the old government under Paramba. No +reference was ever made to the lighthouse. We knew, of course, that it +had arrived, for the freight had been paid: this we learned from the +brokers who shipped it; but whether it was still in storage at San Juan +or was flashing red and white—a credit to Onativia's energy and a +godsend to incoming shipping—was still a mystery. +</P> + +<P> +Mawkum would often laugh whenever Garlicho's or Onativia's name was +mentioned, and once in a while we would discuss the difficulties they +must have encountered in the erection of the structure in the open sea. +One part of the transaction we could never understand, and that was why +Garlicho had allowed the matter to lapse if the lighthouse was needed +so badly, and what were his reasons for sending Onativia to renew the +negotiations instead of coming himself. +</P> + +<P> +All doubts on this and every other point were set at rest one fine +morning by the arrival of a sunburned gentleman with gray +side-whiskers, a man I had not seen for years. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Lawton!" I cried, grasping his hand. "This is a surprise. Came by +the Tampico, did you? Oh, but I am glad to see you! Here, draw up a +chair. But stop—not a word until I ask you some questions about that +lighthouse." +</P> + +<P> +The genial Scotchman broke out into a loud laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't laugh! Listen!" I said to him. "Tell me, why didn't Garlicho go +on with the work, and what do you know about Onativia?" +</P> + +<P> +Lawton leaned back in his chair and closed one eye in merriment. +</P> + +<P> +"Garlicho did not go on with the work, my dear friend, because he was +breaking stone in the streets of San Juan with a ball and chain around +his ankle. When Paramba came back to power he was tried for high +treason and condemned to be shot. He saved his neck by turning over the +lighthouse papers to Onativia. As to Carlos Onativia, he is a product +of the soil. Started life as a coolie boss in a copper mine, became +manager and owner, built the bridge over the Quitos River and the +railroad up the Andes; is the brightest man in Moccador and the brains +of the Paramba Government. One part of his duty is to keep the people +satisfied, and he does it every single time; another is to divide with +Paramba every dollar he makes." +</P> + +<P> +"But the lighthouse!" I interrupted. "Is it up? You must have passed it +on your way out of the harbor." +</P> + +<P> +"Up? Yes, and lighted every night—up in the public garden in San Juan +among the palms and bananas. The people eat ice-cream on the first +platform and the band plays Sundays in the balcony under the boat +davits. The people are wild about it—especially the women. It was the +last coat of red lead that did it." +</P> + +<P> +And again the office rang with Lawton's laugh. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="murdock"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +MISS MURDOCK,—"SPECIAL" +</H3> + +<P> +A row of gas jets hooded by green paper shades lighting a long table at +which sit half a dozen men in their shirt sleeves writing like mad; +against the wall other men,—one drawing Easter lilies, another +blocking in the background around a photograph, a third pasting +clippings on sheets of brown paper. Every few minutes a bare-headed boy +in a dirty apron, with smudged face and ink-stained fingers, bounds +into the stifling, smoke-laden room, skirts the long table, dives +through a door labelled "City Editor," remains an instant and bounds +out again, his hands filled with long streamers of proof. +</P> + +<P> +In the opening and shutting of the swinging door a round-bodied, +round-headed man in his shirt sleeves comes into view. Covering his +forehead, shielding his eyes from the glare of the overhead gas jet, is +a half-moon of green leather held in place by strings tied behind his +ears. The line of shadow caused by this shade makes a blank space about +his eyes and brings into relief his pale, flabby cheeks, hard, straight +mouth, and coarse chin. Only when he lifts his head to give some order, +or holds the receiver of the telephone to his ear, can his eyes be +exactly located. Then they shine like a cat's in a cellar,—gray, +white, gray again, with a glint of metallic green,—always the same +distance apart, never wavering, never blinking. Overstrung, overworked, +nervous men, working at high pressure, spurred by the merciless lash of +passing minutes, have these eyes. So do cornered beasts fighting for +air and space. Eleven-thirty had just been tolled by the neighboring +clock; deliverance would come when the last form of the morning edition +was made up. Until then safety could only be found in constant attack. +</P> + +<P> +Outside the city editor's office, sprawled over a pile of mail sacks, +between the long table and the swinging door, lay Joe Quinn, +man-of-all-work,—boy, in fact, for he was but nineteen, big for his +age, with arms and legs like cordwood and a back straight and hard as a +plank. Joe's duty was to keep his eyes peeled, his ears open, and his +legs in working order. If a reporter wanted a fresh pad, a cup of +water, or a file of papers, Joe brought them; sometimes he foraged for +sandwiches and beer,—down four pair of stairs, across the street into +a cellar and up again; sometimes he carried messages; oftener he made +an elevator of himself, running between the presses in the basement and +the desk behind the swinging door. Fifty trips in a single night had +not been an unusual tally. +</P> + +<P> +To the inmates of the room the boy was known as "Joe" or "Quinn" or +"Sonny." To the man with the half-moon shade over his eyes he was "Say" +or "That Damned Kid." High-strung, high-pressure editors omit the +unnecessary, condensation being part of their creed. +</P> + +<P> +Up in the Franconia Notch, in a little hollow under White Face and +below Bog Eddy, Joe had been known as "Jonathan's boy," Jonathan being +the name his father went by, the last half never being used,—there +being but one "Jonathan"—the one whom everybody loved. +</P> + +<P> +The cabin was still standing, where Joe was born,—a slant of logs with +a stone chimney and some out-buildings; and his old father was still +alive, and so was his mother and his little "Sis." Summer mornings the +smoke would curl straight up from the rude stone chimney, catch a +current of air from the valley, and stretch its blue arms toward the +tall hemlocks covering the slope of the mountain. Winter mornings it +lay flat, buffeted by the winds, hiding itself later on among the +trees. Joe knew these hemlocks,—loved them,—had hugged them many a +time, laying his plump, ruddy cheek against the patches of cool moss +velveting their sides. "Nothin' like trees," his old father had told +him,—"real human when ye know 'em." +</P> + +<P> +To-night, as he lay stretched out on the mail sacks, his ears +unlatched, listening for the sound of the night city editor's bell, or +his gruff "Say, you!" his mind kept reverting to their bigness and +wide, all embracing, protecting arms. A letter from Jonathan received +that morning, and still tucked away in his inside pocket, had revived +these memories. +</P> + +<P> +"They've started to cut roads, son," it read. "I was out gummin' +yesterday and got up under White Face. Won't be nothing left if they +keep on. Cy Hawkins sold his timber land to them last winter and +they've histed up a biler on wheels and a succular saw, and hev cleared +off purty nigh every tree clean from the big windslash down to the East +Branch. It ain't going into building stuff; they're sending it down to +Plymouth to a pulp mill and grinding it up to print newspapers on, so +the head man told me. Guess you know all about it, but it was news to +me. I told him it was a gol-darn-shame to serve a tree so, being as how +trees had feelings same as men, but he laughed and said it warn't none +of my bizness, and I guess it ain't. Beats all what some folks will do +for money." +</P> + +<P> +Joe thought so too,—had been thinking so ever since he broke the seal +of the letter that the postmaster at Woodstock had directed for his +father. "Dad's right; trees have feelings," he kept repeating to +himself. And, as to being human, he could recall a dozen that he had +talked to and that had talked back to him ever since he could remember. +His father had taught him their language on the long days when he had +trailed behind carrying the gum bag or had hidden in the bushes while +the old man wormed himself along, his rifle in the hollow of his arm, +or when the two lay stretched out before their camp fire. +</P> + +<P> +"Dogs and trees, my son, will never go back on ye like some folks I've +hearn tell of. Allers find 'em the same. See that yaller birch over +thar?—Well, I've knowed that birch over forty-two year and he ain't +altered a mite, 'cept his clothes ain't as decent as they was, and his +shoes is give out 'round the roots. You kin see whar the bark's busted +'long 'round his toes,—but his heart's all right and he's alive and +peart, too. You'll find him fust tree out in the spring,—sometimes +'fore the sugar sap's done runnin'. Purty soon, if you watch him same's +me, ye'll see him begin to shake all over,—kind o' shivery with some +inside fun; then comes the buds and, fust thing ye know, he gives a +little see-saw or two in the warm air and out busts the leaves, and he +a laughin' fit to kill. Maybe the birds ain't glad, and maybe them +squirrels that's been snowed up all winter with their noses out o' that +crotch, ain't jes' holdin' their sides, and maybe, too, them little +sunbeams don't like to sneak in and go to sleep on the bark all silvery +and shinin' like the ribbons on Sis's hat! They're human, them trees +is, I tell ye, son,—real human! +</P> + +<P> +"And ye want to treat 'em with some perliteness, too they're older'n +anything 'round here 'cept the rocks; and they've been holdin' up the +dignity of this valley, too,—kind o' 'sponsible for things. That's +another thing ye mustn't forgit. The fust folks that come travellin' +through this notch—'bout time the Injins quit,—took notice on 'em, I +tell ye. That's what they come for. Bald Top and White Face was all +right, but it was the trees that knocked 'em silly. That's what you kin +read in the book school-teacher has, and that's true. And see how they +treat their brothers that git toppled over,—by a windslash, maybe, or +lightnin' or a landslide, or some such cussed thing, givin' 'em a +shoulder to lean on same as you would help a cripple. When they're +clean down and done for it ain't more'n a year or two 'fore they got +'em kivered all over with leaves, and then they git tergether and hev a +quiltin' party and purty soon they're all over blankets o' green moss, +and the others jes stand 'round solemn and straight like's if they was +mountin' guard over their graves. +</P> + +<P> +"It's wicked to kill most anything 'less ye got some use—and a good +one, too,—for the meat, but it's a durned sight meaner to cut down a +tree that took so long to grow and that's been so decent all its life, +'less ye can't do without the stuff ye git out'n it." +</P> + +<P> +Joe had listened and had drunk it all in, and his love for the tall +giants away back in the deep wilderness had never left him. It was +these dear old friends more than anything else that had kept him at +home, under plea of helping his father, months after he knew he ought +to be up and doing if he would ever be of any use to the old man in his +later years. +</P> + +<P> +It was Plymouth first, as stable boy, and then down to Nashua and +Boston as teamster and freight handler, and then, by what he considered +at the time a lucky chance—(Katie Murdock, from his own town, and now +a reporter in the same newspaper office with himself, had helped), man +of all work in this whirl where he felt like a fly clinging to a +driving wheel. +</P> + +<P> +Stretching out his stout saw-log legs and settling his big shoulders +into the soft cushions made by the sacks, his mind went back to the old +sawmill,—Baker's Mill,—and the dam backed up alongside the East +Branch. An old kingfisher used to sit on a limb over the still water +and watch for minnows,—a blue and white fellow with a sharp beak. He +had frightened him away many a time. And there was a hole where two big +trout lived. He remembered the willows, too, and the bunch of logs +piled as high as the mill. These would be rolled down and cant-hooked +under its saw when the spring opened, but Baker never ground any one of +them up into wood pulp. It went into clapboards to keep out the cold, +and shingles to keep off the rain, and the "waste" went under the +kettles of the neighbors, the light of the jolly flames dancing round +the room. He had carried many a bundle home himself that the old man +had sent to Jonathan. Most everybody sent Jonathan something, +especially if they thought he needed it. +</P> + +<P> +Then his mind reverted to his own share in the whirl about him. It +wasn't a job he liked, but there wasn't anything else offering, and +then Katie might want somebody to look after her, and so it was just as +well he had the job. He and Katie had been schoolmates together not so +long ago, in the wooden schoolhouse near the crossroads. She had gone +to college, and had come home with a diploma. She was two or three +years older than he was, but that didn't make any difference to a boy +and girl from the same village when they had grown up alongside of each +other. He wondered how long it was to July, when he was promised a +week,—and so was Katie. He knew just what they'd do; he could get two +passes to Plymouth,—his old friend the freight boss had promised him +that,—then about daylight, the time the train arrived, he'd find +Marvin, who drove the stage up the valley and past his old home, and +help him curry his team and hitch up, and Marvin would give them a ride +free. He could feel the fresh air on his cheeks as he rattled out of +the village, across the railroad track and out into the open. Tim +Shekles, the blacksmith, would be at work, and old Mother Crawport +would be digging in her garden, early as it was; and out in the fields +the crows would be hunting corn; and pretty soon down would go the +wheels into the soft, clean gravel of the brook that crossed the +turnpike and out again on the other side dripping puddles in the dirt; +and soon the big trees would begin, and keep on and on and on,—away up +to the tops of the mountains, the morning sun silvering the mists +sweeping up their sides,—and— +</P> + +<P> +"Say! you! Wake up! He's been hollering at you for five minutes. GIT!" +</P> + +<P> +Joe sat up and rubbed his eyes. The fresh air of the morning had +vanished. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sir." He was on his feet now, alert as a terrier that had sniffed +a rat. +</P> + +<P> +"YES, SIR, eh! How many times do you want me to call you? Go and find +Miss Murdock, and send her here on the run. Tell her to get her hat and +cloak and show up in two minutes. I've got an assignment for her on the +East Side,—just come over the 'phone. Hurry now! That damned kid ought +to be—" +</P> + +<P> +But Joe was already out of the room and down two pair of stairs. Before +the minutes were up he was back again, Katie Murdock with him. She was +sliding her arm into the sleeve of her jacket as she entered. +</P> + +<P> +"Forty-third and First Avenue, Miss Murdock," said the night city +editor, lifting his head so that the cat eyes had full play. "Girl +overboard from one of the ferry boats,—lives at 117.—Drowned, they +say,—some fellow mixed up in it. Take your snapshot along and get +everything. Find the mother if she's got one and—" +</P> + +<P> +But the girl had gone. She knew the value of time,—especially at that +hour, even if she had been but a week in her new department of +"Special." Her chief knew it, too, or he wouldn't have sent her at that +hour. There was time—plenty of time if everything went right,—thirty +minutes, perhaps an hour,—to spare, but they were not hers to waste. +</P> + +<P> +"Wait for me, Joe," she said, as she hurried past him. "We'll go up +town together, soon as the presses start." +</P> + +<P> +Joe threw himself again on the pile of sacks and kept his ears open for +orders. It was a bad night for Katie to go out. She was plucky and +could hold her own,—had done so a dozen times,—once in a street car +when some fellow tried to be familiar,—but he didn't like her to go, +all the same. Nobody who looked into her face and then down into her +blue eyes would ever make any mistake, but then some men mightn't take +the trouble to look. He'd wait for her, no matter how late it might be. +When she came in she would be out of breath, and perhaps hungry,—then +he'd take her over to Cobb's for a cup of coffee. +</P> + +<P> +During the interim Joe's legs had been kept busy. Not only had he +rushed downstairs and up again half a dozen times, springing to the +night city editor's curse, or pound, or shout, whichever had come +handiest, but he had also been twice to the corner for frankfurters for +reporters who hadn't had a crumb to eat for hours. He was unwrapping +the second one when Katie burst in. +</P> + +<P> +Her hat and coat were dripping wet and her hair hung in disorder about +her pale face. Her notes were nearly completed; she had worked them out +on the elevated on her way downtown. Joe absorbed her with a look, and +slid to her side. Something in her face told him of her errand; +something of the suffering, and perhaps horror,—and he wanted to get +close to her. The girl had reached the editor's desk now, and was +waiting until he had finished the paragraph his pen was inditing. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," he said, laying down his pen,—"What have you got?" He was +running his cat eyes over the girl's notes as he spoke,—taking in at a +glance the "meat" of her report. Then he added,—"Get any snaps?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, sir, I—" +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't I tell you I must have 'em?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, but I couldn't do it. The mother was half crazy and the two +little children would have broken your heart. She was the only one who +could earn anything—" +</P> + +<P> +"And you got into the house and had the whole bunch right in your fist +and never snapped a shutter! See here, Miss Murdock I ain't running a +Bible class and you're not working in the slums,—you can keep that +gush for some other place. You had your camera and flash,—I saw you go +out with them. I wanted everything: corpse of girl, the mother, +children; where she was hauled out,—who hauled her out,—her +lover,—she went overboard for some fellow, you remember,—I told you +all that. Well, you're the limit!" +</P> + +<P> +Joe had moved up closer, now. He was formulating in his mind what would +happen to Katie if he caught the night city editor under his chin and +slammed his head against the wall. He knew what would happen to the +editor and to himself, but it was Katie's fate that kept his hands flat +to his sides. +</P> + +<P> +"I would rather throw up my position than have done it, sir," Katie +pleaded. "There are some things never ought to be printed. This drowned +girl—" +</P> + +<P> +The night city editor sprang from his chair, brushed the pile of notes +aside with his hand, and shouted +</P> + +<P> +"Say, you! Find that damned boy, somebody, if he isn't asleep!" +</P> + +<P> +Joe, who was not ten feet away, stepped up and faced him,—stepped so +quickly that the man backed away as if for more room. +</P> + +<P> +"Get a move on and send Miss Parker here. Hunt for her,—if she isn't +downstairs she may be at Cobb's getting something to eat. Quick, now!" +Then he turned to Katie +</P> + +<P> +"You better go home, Miss Murdock. You're tired, maybe: anyhow, you're +way off. Miss Parker'll get what we want,—she isn't so thin-skinned. +Here, take that stuff with you,—it's no use to me." +</P> + +<P> +The girl reached across the desk, gathered up the scattered notes, and +without a word left the room. On the way downstairs she met Miss Parker +coming up, Joe at her heels. She was older than Katie,—and harder; a +woman of thirty-five, whose experience had ranged from nurse in a +reformatory to a night reporter on a "Yellow." The two women passed +each other without even a nod. Joe turned and followed Katie Murdock +downstairs and into the night air. Miss Parker kept on her way. As she +glided through the room to the city editor's office, she had the air of +a sleuth tracking a criminal. +</P> + +<P> +Once outside in the night air, Joe drew Katie from under the glare of +the street lamp. Her eyes were running tears,—at the man's cruelty and +injustice, she who had worked to any hour of the night to please him. +</P> + +<P> +Joe was boiling. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll go back and punch him, if you'll let me. I heard it all." +</P> + +<P> +"No, it'll do no good,—both of us would get into trouble, then." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, then, I'll chuck my job. This ain't no place for any decent girl +nor man. Was it pretty bad where you went, Katie?" +</P> + +<P> +"Bad! Oh, Joe, you don't know. I said, last week, when I forced my way +into the room of that poor mother whose son was arrested, that I'd +never report another case like it. But you ought to have seen what I +saw to-night. The poor girl worked in a box factory, they told me, and +this man hounded her, and in despair she threw herself overboard. The +room was full when I got there,—policemen,—one or two other +reporters,—no woman but me. They had brought her in dripping wet and I +found her on the floor,—just a child, Joe,—hardly sixteen,—her hair +filled with dirt from the water,—the old mother wringing her hands. +Oh, it was pitiful! I could have flashed a picture,—nobody would have +cared nor stopped me,—but I couldn't. Don't you see I couldn't, Joe? +He has no right to ask me to do these things,—nobody has,—it's awful. +It's horrible! What would that poor mother have said when she saw it in +the paper? I'll go home now. No, you needn't come,—they'll want you. +Go back upstairs. Good-night." +</P> + +<P> +Joe watched her until she caught an uptown car, and then turned into +the side door opening on the narrow street. A truck had arrived while +they were talking, and the men were unloading some great rolls of +paper,—enormous spools. "What would dad say if he saw what his trees +had come to?" Joe thought, as he stood for a moment looking them +over,—his mind going back to his father's letter. One roll of wood +pulp had already been jacked up and was now feeding the mighty press. +The world would be devouring it in the morning; the drowned girl would +have her place in its columns,—so would every other item that told of +the roar and crash, the crime, infamy, and cruelty of the preceding +hours. Then the issues would be thrown away to make room for a fresher +record;—some to stop a hole in a broken window; some to be trampled +under foot of horse and man; many to light the fires the city over. +</P> + +<P> +"My poor trees!" sighed Joe, as he slowly mounted the steps to the top +floor. "There ain't no common sense in it, I know. Got to make sumpin' +out o' the timber once they're cut down, but it gits me hot all the +same when I think what they've come to. Gol-darn-shame to serve ye so! +Trees has feelin's, same's men,—that's what dad says, and that's true!" +</P> + +<P> +Miss Parker had done her work. Joe saw that when he opened the paper +the next morning: saw it at a glance, and with a big lump in his throat +and a tightening of his huge fists. Flaring headlines marked the first +page; under them was a picture of the girl in a sailor hat,—she had +found the original on the mantel and had slipped it in her pocket. Then +followed a flash photo of the dead girl lying on the floor,—her poor, +thin, battered and bruised body straight out, the knees and feet +stretching the wet drapery,—nothing had been left out. Most of the +details were untrue,—the story of the lover being a pure invention, +but the effect was all right. Then, again, no other morning journal had +more than a few lines. +</P> + +<P> +Everybody congratulated her. "Square beat," one man said, at which her +gray, cold face lightened up. +</P> + +<P> +"Glad you liked it," she answered with a nod of her head,—"I generally +'get there.'" +</P> + +<P> +When the night city editor arrived—the city editor was ill and he had +taken his place for the day—he reached out and caught her hand. Then +he drew her inside the office. When she passed Joe again on her way +out, her smile had broadened. +</P> + +<P> +"Got her pay shoved up," one of the younger men whispered to another. +</P> + +<P> +When Katie came in an hour later, no one in the room but Joe caught the +dark lines under her eyes and the reddened lids,—as if she had passed +a sleepless night,—one full of terror. She walked straight to where +the boy stood at work. +</P> + +<P> +"I've just seen that poor mother, Joe. I saw the paper and what Miss +Parker had said and I went straight to her. I did not want her to think +I had been so cruel. When I got to her house this morning there was a +patrol wagon at the door and all the neighbors outside. A woman told me +she was all right until somebody showed her the morning paper with the +picture of her drowned daughter; then she began to scream and went +stark mad, and they were getting ready to take her to Ward's Island +when I walked in. You've seen the picture, haven't you?" +</P> + +<P> +Joe nodded. He had seen the picture,—had it in his hand. He dare not +trust himself to speak,—everybody was around and he didn't want to +appear green and countrified. Then again, he didn't want to make it +harder for Katie. She had had nothing to do with it, thank God! +</P> + +<P> +The door of the office swung open. The editor this time caught sight of +Katie, called her by name, and, with a "Like to see you about a little +matter," beckoned her inside and shut the door upon them both. +</P> + +<P> +A moment later she was out again, a blue envelope in her hand. +</P> + +<P> +"He's got me discharged, Joe. Here's a note from the city editor," she +said. Her voice quivered and the tears stood in her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Fired you!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes,—he says I'm too thin-skinned." +</P> + +<P> +Joe stood for a moment with the front page of the paper still in his +hand. Something of Jonathan came into his face,—the same firm lines +about his mouth that his father had when he crawled under the floor +timbers of the mill to save Baker's girl, pinned down and drowning, the +night of the freshet. +</P> + +<P> +Crushing the sheet in his hand Joe walked straight into the city +editor's office, a swing in his movement and a look in his eye that +roused everybody in the room. +</P> + +<P> +"You've got Katie Murdock fired, she says," he hissed between his +teeth. "What fur?" He was standing over the night city editor now, his +eyes blazing, his fists tightly closed. +</P> + +<P> +"What business have you to ask?" growled the editor. +</P> + +<P> +"Every business!" There was something in the boy's face that made the +man move his hand toward a paper weight. +</P> + +<P> +"She's fired because she wouldn't do your dirty work. Look at +this!"—he had straightened out the crumpled sheet now: "Look at it! +That's your work!—ain't a dog would a-done it, let alone a man. Do you +know what's happened? That girl's mother went crazy when she saw that +picture! You sent that catamount, Miss Parker, to do it, and she done +it fine, and filled it full o' lies and dirt! Ye didn't care who ye +hurt, you—" +</P> + +<P> +The man sprang to his feet. +</P> + +<P> +"Here!—put yourself outside that door! Get out or I'll—" +</P> + +<P> +"Git out, will I!—ME!—I'll git out when you eat yer words,—and you +WILL eat 'em. Down they go—" +</P> + +<P> +Joe had him by the throat now, his fingers tight under his chin, his +head flattened against the wooden partition. In his powerful grasp the +man was as helpless as a child. +</P> + +<P> +"Eat it,—swallow it!—MORE—MORE—all of it! damn ye!" +</P> + +<P> +He was cramming the wad between the editor's lips, one hand forcing +open his teeth, the other holding his head firm against the wall. +</P> + +<P> +Then flinging the half strangled man from him he turned, and facing the +crowd of reporters and employes—Miss Parker among them,—shouted:— +</P> + +<P> +"And ye're no better,—none o' ye. Ye all hunt dirt,—live on dirt and +eat dirt. Ye're like a lot o' buzzards stuck up on a fence rail waitin' +fur an old horse to die. Ain't one o' you reporters wouldn't been glad +to do what that catamount over there done last night, and ain't one o' +ye wouldn't take pay fur it. Katie Murdock's fired? Yes,—two of us is +fired,—me and her. We'll go back whar we come from. We mayn't be so +almighty smart as some o' you city folks be, but we're a blamed sight +decenter. Up in my country dead girls is sumpin' to be sorry fur, not +sumpin' to make money out'er, and settin' a poor mother crazy is +worse'n murder. Git out o' my way thar, or I'll hurt some o' ye! Come, +Katie!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="peter"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE BEGUILING OF PETER GRIGGS +</H3> + +<P> +Peter was in his room when I knocked—up two flights of stairs off +Washington Square—Eighth Street really—in one of those houses with a +past—of mahogany, open wood fires, old Madeira in silver coasters +pushed across hand-polished tables,—that kind of a past. +</P> + +<P> +None of all this could be seen in its present. The marble steps outside +were worn down like the teeth of an old horse, and as yellow; the iron +railings were bent and cankered by rust; the front door was in +blisters; the halls bare, steps uncarpeted, and the spindling mahogany +balusters showed here and there substitutes of pine. +</P> + +<P> +Nor did the occupants revive any of its old-time charm. The basement +held a grocery—a kindling-wood, ice and potato sort of grocery; the +parlor boasted a merchant tailor—much pressing and repairing, with now +and then a whole suit; the second floor front was given over to a +wig-maker and the second story back to a manicure. Here the tide of the +commercial and the commonplace stopped—stopped just short of the third +floor where old Peter Griggs lived. +</P> + +<P> +You would understand why if you knew the man. +</P> + +<P> +Just as this particular old house possessed two distinct +personalities—one of the past and the other of the present—so did the +occupant of the third floor. +</P> + +<P> +Downtown in the custom house, where he was employed (he had something +to do with invoices), he was just plain Mr. Griggs—a short, crisp, +"Yes and so" little man—exact, precise and absurdly correct: never, in +all his life, had he made a mistake. +</P> + +<P> +Up in these rooms on the third floor he was dear old Peter—or Pete—or +Griggsy—or whatever his many friends loved best to call him. Up here, +too, he was the merriest companion possible; giving out as much as he +absorbed, and always with his heart turned inside out. That he had been +for more than thirty years fastened to a high stool facing his desk +bespoke neither political influence nor the backing of rich friends. +Nobody, really, had ever wanted his place. If they did they never dared +ask for it—not above their breath. They would as soon have thought of +ousting the old clock from its perch in the rotunda, or moving one of +the great columns that faced the street. So he just stayed on ticking +away at his post, quite like the old clock itself, and getting stiffer +and stiffer in the line of his duty—quite like the columns—and +getting more and more covered with the dust of long habit—quite like +both of them. +</P> + +<P> +This dust, being outside dust, and never sinking the thousandth part of +an inch below the surface, left its mark on the man beneath as a live +coal fading and whitening leaves its covering of ashes on the spark. +</P> + +<P> +These two—the ashes and the spark—made up the sum of Peter's +individuality. The ash part was what he offered to the world of +routine—the world he hated. The spark part—cheery, warm, +enthusiastic, full of dreams, of imaginings, with an absorbing love for +little bits of beauty, such as old Satsuma, Cloisonne, quaint +miniatures and the like—all good, and yet within reach of his +purse—this part he gave to his friends. +</P> + +<P> +I am inside his room now, standing behind him taking in the glow of the +fire and the red damask curtains shielding the door that leads to his +bedroom; my eye roving over the bookcases crammed with books, the +tables littered with curios and the mantel covered with miniatures and +ivories. I invariably do this to discover his newest "find" before he +calls my attention to it. As he has not yet moved or given me any other +sign of recognition than a gruff "Draw up a chair," in a voice that +does not sound a bit like him—his eyes all the time on the smouldering +fire, there is yet a chance to look him over before he begins to talk. +(We shall all be busy enough listening when he does begin.) +</P> + +<P> +I say "ALL," for there is a second visitor close behind me, and the +sound of still another footstep can already be heard in the hall below. +</P> + +<P> +It is the back of Peter's head now that interests me, and the droop of +his shoulders. They always remind me of Leech's sketch of Old Scrooge +waiting for Marly's ghost, whenever I come upon him thus unobserved. +To-night he not only wears his calico dressing-gown—unheard-of garment +in these days—but a red velvet cap pulled over his scalp. Most bald +men would have the cap black—but then most bald men have not Peter's +eye for color. +</P> + +<P> +It's a queer head—this head of Peter Griggs. Not at all like any other +head I know. If I should attempt to describe it, I should merely have +to say bluntly that it was more like an enlarged hickory-nut than any +other object I can think of. It is of the same texture, too, and almost +as devoid of hair. Except on his temples, and close down where his +collar binds his thin neck, there is really very little hair left; and +this is so near the color of the shrivelled skin beneath that I never +know where one begins and the other ends. +</P> + +<P> +When I face him—and by this time I am facing him—I must admit that +the hickory-nut simile still holds. There are no particular features, +no decided bumps, no decided hollows; the nose is only an enlarged +ridge, the cheeks and eye-sockets only seams. But the eyes count—yes, +the eyes count—count so that you see at once that they are the live +points of the live coal smouldering beneath. +</P> + +<P> +Here the hickory-nut as a simile goes all to pieces. These eyes are the +flash from some distant lighthouse, burning dull when the commonplace +of life passes before him, and bursting into effulgence when something +touches his heart or stirs his imagination. Downtown in the Dismal Tomb +even the lighthouse goes to smash. Here the eyes set so far back in his +head that they look for all the world like two wary foxes peeping out +of a hole, losing nothing of what is going on outside—never being +fooled, never being wheedled or coaxed out of their retreat. "Can't +fool Mr. Griggs," some broker says, as he tries to get his papers +signed out of his turn. Uptown these same foxes are running around +loose in an abandonment of jollity, frisking here and there, all +restraint cast aside—trusting everybody—and glad to. That's why I +couldn't understand his tone of voice when I opened his door. +</P> + +<P> +"Not sick, old fellow?" I cried. He had not yet lifted his head or +vouchsafed a single word of welcome. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, sick at heart. My old carcass is all right, but inside—way down +where a man lives—I'm sick unto death. Take a look at the mantelpiece. +You see my best miniature's gone, don't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not the Cosway?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, the Cosway!" +</P> + +<P> +"Stolen?" +</P> + +<P> +"Worse than stolen! Oh, my boy, such mean people live in the world! I +couldn't believe it possible. I've read in the papers something like +it, but that I should have been—oh, I can't get over it! It haunts me +like a ghost. It isn't the value—it's the way it was done; and I was +so helpless, and I meant only to be kind." +</P> + +<P> +The other men had arrived now and the three of us were ranged around +Peter in a circle, wondering with wide-opened eyes at his tone of +voice, his dismal expression, and especially at the air of dejection +which seemed to ooze through every square inch of his calico +dressing-gown. +</P> + +<P> +"Sit down, all of you," he continued "and listen. And it's all your +fault. If only one of you had come up to see me! I waited and waited; I +knew most of you would be off somewhere eating your Thanksgiving +turkey, but that every mother's son of you should have forgotten +me—that's what I won't forgive you for." +</P> + +<P> +We, with one accord, began to make excuses, but he waved us into +silence. +</P> + +<P> +"After a while I got so lonely I couldn't stand it any longer. So about +six o'clock I started out to dine alone somewhere—some place where I +had no associations with any one of you. I hadn't gone as far as +Broadway when along came two men and a woman. You'd have said 'two +gentlemen and a lady'—I say two men and a woman. I looked at them and +they looked at me. I saw they were from out of town, and right away +came the thought, they must be lonely, too. Everybody is lonesome on +Thanksgiving if he's away from home, or, like me, has no place to go +to. The Large Man stopped and nudged the Small Man, and the Woman +turned and looked at me earnestly, then all three talked together for a +minute, then I heard the Small Man say, 'I'll go you a ten on it,' +which conveyed no meaning to me. Then all three of them walked back to +where I stood and the Large Man asked me where Foscari's restaurant was. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, of course, that was in the next street, so I volunteered to show +them the place. On the way over the Small Man and the Woman lagged +behind and I overheard them say that it would never do—that is, the +Woman said so; at which the Small Man laughed and said they couldn't +find a better. All this time the Large Man held me by the arm in a +friendly sort of way, as if he were afraid I would stub my toe and fall +if he didn't help me over the gutters; telling me all the time that he +didn't know the ropes around New York and how much obliged he was to me +for taking all this trouble to show him. Pretty soon we arrived at +Foscari's. I never dined there—never had been inside the place. Cheap +sort of a restaurant—down two steps from the sidewalk, but they asked +for Foscari's, and that's where I took them. +</P> + +<P> +"'Here's the place,' I said, and I lifted my hat to the Woman and +turned to go back. +</P> + +<P> +"'No, don't go,' said the Large Man, still holding on to my arm. +'You've been white and decent to us; we're all stranded here. This is +Thanksgiving—come in and have dinner with us.' +</P> + +<P> +"Then I began by thanking them and ended by saying I couldn't. Then the +Small Man began to urge me, saying that out in his country, near the +Rockies, everybody was willing to sit down at anybody's table when he +was invited; and the Large Man kept on squeezing my arm in a friendly +sort of way, so I finally said I didn't care if I did, and in we all +went. When we got inside the place was practically empty—only one +guest, really—and he was over by the wall in a corner. There were only +two waiters—one an Irishman who said his name was Mike, with a very +red head and an enormous mouth—a queer kind of a servant for that kind +of a restaurant, I thought—and the other a young Italian, who was +probably the cook. +</P> + +<P> +"'You order,' said the Large Man. 'You know what's good in New York.' +</P> + +<P> +"So I ordered. +</P> + +<P> +"And I want to tell you that the dinner was a particularly good +one—well cooked and well served. We had soup and fish and an Italian +ragout, macaroni, peppers and two bottles of red wine. Before the soup +was over I was glad I'd come; glad, not only because the dinner was all +right, but because the people were human kind of people—no foolishness +about them—no pretension. They were not our kind of people, of +course—couldn't find them in New York if you looked everywhere—not +born and brought up here. The Woman was gentle and kindly, saying very +little, but the Large Man was a hearty, breezy sort of fellow—even if +his language at times was rough and uncouth—at least I thought so. Big +bones and a well-fed body; quick in his movements, yet slow in his +talk, showing force and determination in everything he said. The Small +Man was as tough physically and as alert mentally, but there wasn't so +much of him. He talked, however, twice as fast as the Large Man, and +said less. +</P> + +<P> +"He talked of the city—how smart the people were, how stuck up some of +them, thinking they knew it all, and how, if they but thought about it, +they must see after all that the West was the only thing that kept the +country alive. That kind of talk—not in an offensive way—just as all +of us talk when we believe in our section of the country. +</P> + +<P> +"All this time the solitary guest sat against the wall listening. Near +as I could make out he only had one dish and a small bottle of wine. +Presently he made a remark—not to us—not to the room—more as if to +himself. +</P> + +<P> +"'West is the only thing, is it? And every man Jack of them from New +England stock!' +</P> + +<P> +"This, too, didn't come in any offensive spirit—just as an aside, as +if to keep himself company, being lonely, of course. +</P> + +<P> +"But the Large Man caught it before all the words were out of his mouth. +</P> + +<P> +"'Dead right, pard,' he said—I only quote his words, gentlemen. 'My +father came from Boston, left there in '58. Where're you from?' +</P> + +<P> +"'Boston,' answered the man looking at him over the prongs of his fork. +</P> + +<P> +"'That so? Well, why ain't you eatin' your turkey with your folks? Got +any?' +</P> + +<P> +"'Yes, got a lot of them, but I was short of a ticket.' +</P> + +<P> +"Here the Large Man got up and went over to the Man from Boston. +</P> + +<P> +"'Shake for Boston,' he said, holding out his big hand. 'And now bring +that bottle over here and chip in with us.' Then he opened his +pocketbook and took out a square slip of paper. +</P> + +<P> +"'Here, tuck that in your clothes.' Again I must remark, gentlemen, +that I am only quoting their language so that you can get a better idea +of what sort of people I was with. 'That's a pass to your 'burg. I'm +going South and I won't use it.' +</P> + +<P> +"There were five of us at the table now, the Bostonian bringing over +his plate without a word except 'Thank you,' and taking his share of +the different dishes. +</P> + +<P> +"The talk now became very interesting. The Large Man told stories of +his early life on a farm and the Bostonian recited verses, and recited +them very well, and the Woman laughed in the right place, and when the +cigars were brought and the coffee and the cognac, I was sorry it was +all over. That, when I look back upon it, is the most extraordinary +thing of all. How a man of my experience could have—Well, I won't +stop, I'll just keep on. +</P> + +<P> +"With the coffee, and before the red-headed Irishman had brought the +bill—oh, you should go round to Foscari's and look at that Irishman +just to see how coarse and vulgar a man can be who spends his whole +life feeding animals who—no I WILL go on, for the most interesting +part is to come. When the coffee was served, I say, the Large Man asked +the waiter where he could send a telephone message to his hotel—wanted +the porter to get his trunks down. The Irishman answered: 'Out in the +hall, to the right o' where ye come in.' 'I'll go with you,' said the +Woman; so the two got up and I opened the door for her, and we three +sat down again—that is, the Small Man, the Bostonian and myself. +</P> + +<P> +"We talked on, not noticing the time; then the Small Man looked at his +watch, jumped up and called out to the waiter: 'Where did you say that +telephone place was?' +</P> + +<P> +"'In the hall—on the other side of that dure; ye kin see it from where +ye're sittin'.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Well, he's taking a devil of a time to do his telephoning' said the +Small Man. 'Hold on to my coffee till I go and punch him up.' +</P> + +<P> +"The Bostonian and I kept on talking. He was a draughtsman in an +architect's office, so he told me, and was promised a place the +following week, and I was very much interested in what he told me of +his walking the streets looking for work. +</P> + +<P> +"Mike, the waiter, now laid the bill on the table. I didn't want to +know the amount; my hosts wouldn't want me to see it, of course, and so +I didn't look at it. The Bostonian craned his head, but I forestalled +his glance and turned a plate over it before he could read the total. +</P> + +<P> +"Mike now approached. +</P> + +<P> +"'Ye'd better pay now,' he said, 'before any more o' ye skip. It's nine +dollars and sixty cints.' +</P> + +<P> +"'They'll all be back in a minute,' I said. 'Wait till they come. I'm +only an invited guest.' +</P> + +<P> +"'I'll wait nothin'. The boss is out and I'm in charge. H'ist out yer +money.' +</P> + +<P> +"The Bostonian had risen from the table now and was looking at me as if +I'd just been detected in picking his pocket. +</P> + +<P> +"'But I'm an invited guest,' I protested. +</P> + +<P> +"'Invited guest, are ye?' continued the Irishman. 'And ye ordered the +grub yersilf! You heard him!' This to the Bostonian. 'Didn't he order +the stuff? Let's see yer wad. No more o' ye's goin' to l'ave this room +'till I gits nine dollars and sixty cints. Here, Macaroni'—and he +called the Italian—'ring up the station-house and till thim to sind +somebody 'round. Ye can't play that game on me!" +</P> + +<P> +"'My dear fellow,' I said—I had now to be as courteous as I could—'I +don't want to play anything on you. You may be right in your views that +these people have served me a scurvy trick, but I don't believe it.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Well, thin, pull yer wad out, or I'll call the perlice.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Don't do anything of the kind,' I urged. 'My name is Peter Griggs and +I live quite near here. Lived there for twenty years. You can find out +all about me from any of the neighbors; I haven't enough money with me, +but I'll go to my room and get it.' +</P> + +<P> +"'No ye don't; none o' that guff for me!' You can't think how coarse he +was. Then he walked deliberately over to the door and stood with his +back against it. +</P> + +<P> +"The Bostonian now joined in. +</P> + +<P> +"'It looks as if you had been buncoed, my friend,' he said. 'It's an +old dodge, this, of getting somebody to pay for your dinner, especially +on holidays, and yet I can't see how anybody would pick you out as a +greenhorn. I'd divide the bill with you, but really, as you know, I +haven't the money.' I saw from his tone that he was thinking better of +me. +</P> + +<P> +"'No, I'll pay it myself. You, certainly, were not to blame. Will you +go to my room with me, Mike?' I called him Mike because it seemed the +best way to conciliate the man. +</P> + +<P> +"'How far is it?' he asked, softening a little. +</P> + +<P> +"'Two blocks.' +</P> + +<P> +"'And ye'll pay if I go?' +</P> + +<P> +"'Of course I will pay. Do I look like a man who would cheat you?' +</P> + +<P> +"'All right, come on.' +</P> + +<P> +"I bade the Bostonian good-by, and we started. +</P> + +<P> +"Mike didn't speak a word on the way, nor did I. I felt like a +suspected thief that a policeman was taking to the station-house; I've +passed them many times in the street, and I've often wondered what was +passing in the thief's mind. I knew now. I knew, too, what the +Bostonian thought of me, and the Italian, and Mike. +</P> + +<P> +"Then a shiver went through me, and the next moment I broke out into a +cold sweat. I suddenly remembered that I hadn't any money in my room. I +had given every cent, except two dollars of the amount I had brought +uptown with me, to my washerwoman the night before. The bill was not +due, but Mrs. Jones wanted it for Thanksgiving and so I let her have +it. And yet, gentlemen—would you believe it!—I walked on, trying to +think if there mightn't be some bills in the vest I'd worn the day +before, or in the top drawer of my desk or in a china cup on the +mantel. Really, it was an awful, awful position! I couldn't run! I +couldn't explain. I just had to keep on. +</P> + +<P> +"When I got here I turned up the light and asked him to sit down while +I searched my clothes—you can see what disgrace does for a man—asked +a common, low, vulgar waiter to sit down in my room. He didn't sit +down—he just kept walking round and round, peering into the bookcases, +handling the little things on the mantel, feeling the quality of the +curtain that hangs there at the door—like a pawnbroker making up an +inventory. +</P> + +<P> +"Finally he said: 'Ye got a nice place here'—the first words that had +come from his lips since we left the restaurant. 'The boss likes these +jimcracks; he's got a lot o' thim up where he lives. I seen him pay +twinty dollars to a Jew-dago for one o' THIM.' And he pointed to my row +of miniatures. +</P> + +<P> +"By this time I was face to face with the awful truth. There was +nothing in the vest-pocket, nor in the cup, and there was nothing in +the drawer. The only money I had was the two-dollar bill which had been +left over after paying Mrs. Jones. I spread it out before him and +looked him straight in the eye—fearlessly—that he might know I wasn't +telling him an untruth. +</P> + +<P> +"'My good man,' I said in my kindest voice, 'I was mistaken. I find I +have no money. I have paid away every cent except these two dollars; +take this bill and let me come in to-morrow and pay the balance.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Good man be damned!' he said. 'I don't want yer two dollars. I'll +take this and call it square.' Then he put my precious Cosway in his +pocket and without another word walked out of the room." +</P> + +<P> +"But wouldn't they give it back to you when you went for it?" I blurted +out. +</P> + +<P> +Peter leaned back in his chair and drummed on the arm with his fingers. +</P> + +<P> +"To tell the truth, I have been ashamed to go. I suppose they will give +it back when I ask them. And every day I intended going and paying them +the money, and every day I shun the street as if a plague was there. I +will go some time, but not now. Please don't ask me." +</P> + +<P> +"Have you seen none of them since?" inquired another of his visitors. +</P> + +<P> +"Only the Bostonian. He walked up to me while I was having my lunch in +Nassau Street yesterday. +</P> + +<P> +"'I came out better than you did,' he said. 'The pass was good. I used +it the next day. Just home from the Hub.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Accomplice, maybe," remarked Peter's third visitor, "just fooling you +with that architect yarn." +</P> + +<P> +"Buncoed that pass out of somebody else," suggested the second visitor. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps," Peter continued. "I give it up. It's one of the things that +can never be explained. The Bostonian was polite, but he still thinks +me a cheat. He let me down as easy as he could, being a gentleman, but +I can never forget that he saw me come in with them and order the +dinner, and that then I tried to sneak out of paying for it. Oh, it's +dreadful! Dreadful!" +</P> + +<P> +Peter settled in his seat until only the top of his red skull cap +showed above the back of his easy chair. For some minutes he did not +speak, then he said slowly, and as if talking to himself: +</P> + +<P> +"Mean, mean people to serve me so!" +</P> + +<P> +Some days later I again knocked at Peter's door. I had determined, with +or without his consent, to go myself to Foscari's, redeem the miniature +and explain the circumstances, and let them know exactly who Peter was. +My hand had hardly touched the panel when his cheery voice rang out: +</P> + +<P> +"Whoever you are, come in!" +</P> + +<P> +He had sprung from his chair now and had advanced to greet me. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, is it you! So glad—come over here before you get your coat off. +Look!" +</P> + +<P> +"The Cosway! You paid the bill and redeemed it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't cost me a cent." +</P> + +<P> +"They sent it to you, then, and apologized?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing of the kind. Give me your hat and coat and plump yourself down +on that chair by the fire. I've got the most extraordinary story to +tell you you've ever heard in your whole life." +</P> + +<P> +He was himself again—the same bubbling spirit, the same warmth in his +manner, foxes out frolicking, lighthouse flashing, everything let loose. +</P> + +<P> +"Last night I was sitting here at my desk writing, about nine o'clock, +as near as I can remember"—his voice dropped now to a tragic whisper, +as if an encounter with a burglar was to +follow—"WHEN-<I>I</I>-HEARD-A-HEAVY-TREAD-ON-THE-STAIRS, getting louder and +louder as it reached my door. Then came a knock strong enough to crack +the panels. I got up at once and turned the knob. In the corridor stood +the Large Man. He was inside before I could stop him—I couldn't have +stopped him. You have no idea, my dear friend, how big and strong that +man is. What he expected to see I don't know, but it evidently was not +what he found. +</P> + +<P> +"'I had a hell of a time finding you,' he began, looking about him in +astonishment. 'Been up and down everywhere inquiring. Only got your +number from that red-headed plate-shover half an hour ago.'" +</P> + +<P> +Peter's voice had now regained its customary volume: +</P> + +<P> +"I had backed to the fireplace by this time and had picked up the +poker, as if to punch the fire, but I really intended to strike him if +he advanced too close or tried to help himself to any of my things. He +never took the slightest notice of my movements, or waited for any +answer to his outburst—just kept right on talking. +</P> + +<P> +"'You were so dead easy there warn't no fun in it. I dropped to that +the first time you opened your head, but Sam had picked you out and it +had to go at that. My wife saw his mistake as soon as she got her eyes +on you, but Sam, like a fool, wouldn't listen. He was to do the +picking, and so I couldn't say a word. When we all got outside, clear, +we took a turn around Washington Square so I could have my laugh out on +Sam, and when we got back you were gone and so was the fellow from +Boston who chipped in, and so was that red-headed Irish waiter. That +knocked us silly—wife gave us rats, and I felt like a yellow dog. Been +a-feeling so ever since. The Dago couldn't or wouldn't understand. Said +we'd better come in when the boss was there. We had to take the eleven +o'clock to Boston that night and had only time to catch the train. When +I got back at six-ten to-night I drove to Foscari's, found the Irishman +and the boss, heard how he'd pulled your leg—paid the bill—$9.60, +wasn't it?—that's what he said it was, anyhow—and here's your +picture!' +</P> + +<P> +"I had dropped the poker now and was motioning him to a chair. +</P> + +<P> +"'No, thank you, I won't sit down; ain't got time. Got to take the +eleven forty-five for Chicago. Well, we had a lot of fun out of it, +anyhow, only I didn't intend it should end up the way it did. Just +wanted to get even with Sam and win my bet.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Bet? I asked. I was still in the dark as to what he meant. +</P> + +<P> +"'Yes—bet Sam I'd bunco any New York man he'd pick out, and you +happened to be the one. You see, wife and I and Sam were here for a few +days and we struck Thanksgiving and wanted some fun, and we HAD it. +You're white, old man all the way through—white as cotton and our +kind—never flunked once, or turned a hair. Sally took an awful shine +to you. Shake! Next time I'm in New York I'll look you up and if you +ever come out our way we'll open a keg o' nails, and make it red-hot +for you, and don't you forget it. Here's my card, so you can remember.'" +</P> + +<P> +Peter picked up the card from the table, threw up his chin, and broke +into one of his infectious laughs. I reached over and took it from his +hand. It bore this inscription: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> + J. C. MURPHY<BR> + General Travelling Agent<BR> + C. S. & Q. R. R.<BR> +<BR> + OGDEN, UTAH<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="jennings"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +MISS JENNINGS'S COMPANION +</H3> + +<P> +The big Liner slowed down and dropped anchor inside the Breakwater. +Sweeping toward her, pushing the white foam in long lines from her bow, +her flag of black smoke trailing behind, came the company's tender—out +from Cherbourg with passengers. +</P> + +<P> +Under the big Liner's upper deck, along its top rail, was strung a row +of heads watching the tender's approach—old heads—young +heads—middle-aged heads—Miss Jennings's among these last—their eyes +taking in the grim Breakwater with its beacon light, the frowning +casemates specked with sentinels, and the line of the distant city +blurred with masts and spent steam. They saw, too, from their height +(they could look down the tender's smokestack) the sturdy figure of her +Captain, his white cap in relief against the green sea, and below him +the flat mass of people, their upturned faces so many pats of color on +a dark canvas. +</P> + +<P> +With the hauling taut and making fast of the fore and aft hawsers, a +group of sailors broke away from the flat mass and began tugging at the +gangplank, lifting it into position, the boatswain's orders ringing +clear. Another group stripped off the tarpaulins from the piles of +luggage, and a third—the gangplank in place—swarmed about the heaps +of trunks, shouldering the separate pieces as ants shoulder grains of +sand, then scurrying toward the tender's rail, where other ants reached +down and relieved them of their loads. +</P> + +<P> +The mass of people below now took on the shape of a funnel, its spout +resting on the edge of the gangplank, from out which poured a steady +stream of people up and over the Liner's side. +</P> + +<P> +Two decks below where Miss Jennings and her fellow-travellers were +leaning over the steamer's rail craning their necks, other sights came +into view. Here not only the funnel-shaped mass could be seen, but the +faces of the individuals composing it, as well as their nationality and +class; whether first, second or steerage. There, too, was the line of +stewards reaching out with open hands, relieving the passengers of +their small belongings; here too stood the First Officer in white +gloves and gold lace bowing to those he knew and smiling at others; and +here too was a smooth-shaven, closely-knit young man in dark clothes +and derby hat, who had taken up his position just behind the First +Officer, and whose steady steel gray eyes followed the movements of +each and every one of the passengers from the moment their feet touched +the gangplank until they had disappeared in charge of the stewards. +</P> + +<P> +These passengers made a motley group: first came a stout American with +two pretty daughters; then a young Frenchman and his valet; then a +Sister of Charity draped in black, her close-fitting, white, starched +cap and broad white collar framing her face, one hand clutching the +rope rail as she stepped feebly toward the steamer, the other grasping +a bandbox, her only luggage; next wriggled some college boys in twos +and threes, and then the rest of the hurrying mass, followed close by a +herd of emigrants crowding and stumbling like sheep, the men with +pillow-case bundles over their backs, the women with babies muffled in +shawls. +</P> + +<P> +When the last passenger was aboard, the closely-knit young man with the +steel gray eyes leaned forward and said in a low voice to the First +Officer: +</P> + +<P> +"He's not in this bunch." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—dead sure." +</P> + +<P> +"Where will you look for him now, Hobson?" continued the officer. +</P> + +<P> +"Paris, maybe. I told the Chief we wouldn't get anywhere on this lead. +Well, so long"—and the closely-knit young man swung himself down the +gangplank and disappeared into the cabin of the tender. +</P> + +<P> +The scenes on the gangplank were now repeated on the steamer. The old +travellers, whose hand luggage had been properly numbered, gave +themselves no concern—the stewards would look after their belongings. +The new travellers—the Sister of Charity among them—wandered about +asking questions that for the moment no one had time to answer. She, +poor soul, had spent her life in restful places, and the in-rush of +passengers and their proper bestowal seemed to have completely dazed +her. +</P> + +<P> +"Can I help you?" asked the First Officer—everybody is ready to help a +Sister, no matter what his rank or how pressing his duties. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, please—I want to know where my room is. It is Number 49, so my +ticket says." +</P> + +<P> +Here the Purser came up—he, too, would help a Sister. +</P> + +<P> +"Sister Teresa, is it not—from the Convent of the Sacred Heart? Yes, +we knew you would get on at Cherbourg. You are on the lower deck in the +same stateroom with Miss Jennings. Steward—take the Sister to—" +</P> + +<P> +"With whom?" she cried, with a look of blank amazement "But I thought I +was alone! They told me so at the office. Oh, I cannot share my room +with anybody. Please let—" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, but we had to double up. We would willingly give you a room +alone, but there isn't an empty berth on board." He was telling the +truth and showed it in his voice. +</P> + +<P> +"But I have the money to pay for a whole room. I would have paid for it +at the office in Paris, but they told me it was not necessary." +</P> + +<P> +"I know, Sister, and I'm very sorry, but it can't be helped now. +Steward, take Sister Teresa to Number 49." This last came as an order, +and ended the discussion. +</P> + +<P> +When the Steward pushed open the door Miss Jennings was sitting on the +sofa berth reading, a long gray cloak about her shoulders. She had a +quiet, calm face and steady eyes framed in gold spectacles. She looked +to be a woman of fifty who had seen life and understood it. +</P> + +<P> +"The officer says I am to share your room," began Sister Teresa in a +trembling voice. "Don't think me rude, please, but I don't want to +share your room. I want to be alone, and so do you. Can't you help me?" +</P> + +<P> +"But I don't mind it, and you won't after you get used to it." The +voice was poised and well modulated—evidently a woman without +nerves—a direct, masterful sort of woman, who looked you straight in +the eyes, was without guile, hated a lie and believed in human nature. +"And we ought to get on together," she continued simply, as if it were +a matter of course. "You are a Sister, and from one of the French +institutions—I recognize your dress. I'm a nurse from the London +Hospital. The First Officer told me you had the other berth and I was +looking for you aboard the Cherbourg tender, but I couldn't see you for +the smoke, you were so far below me. We'll get on together, never fear. +Which bed will you have—this one or the one curtained off?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, do you take the one curtained off," she answered in a hopeless +tone, as if further resistance was useless. "The sofa is easier perhaps +for me, for I always undress in the dark." +</P> + +<P> +"No, turn on the light. It won't wake me—I'm used to sleeping +anywhere—sometimes bolt upright in my chair with my hand on my +patient." +</P> + +<P> +"But it is one of the rules of our order to dress and undress in the +dark," the Sister pleaded; "candles are luxuries only used for the +sick, and so we do without them." +</P> + +<P> +"All right—just as you say," rejoined Miss Jennings cheerily. "My only +desire was to make you comfortable." +</P> + +<P> +That night at dinner Sister Teresa and Nurse Jennings found themselves +seated next to each other, the Chief Steward, who had special orders +from the First Officer to show Miss Jennings and her companion every +courtesy, having conducted them to their seats. +</P> + +<P> +Before the repast was half over, the two had attracted the attention of +all about them. What was particularly noticed was the abstemious +self-denying life of the Sister so plainly shown in the lines of her +grave, almost hard, face, framed close in the tight bands of white +linen concealing every vestige of her hair, the whole in strong +contrast to the kind, sympathetic face of the Nurse, whose soft gray +locks hung loosely about her temples. Their history, gleaned at the +First Officer's table had also become public property. Nurse Jennings +had served two years in South Africa, where she had charge of a ward in +one of the largest field hospitals outside of Pretoria; on her return +to England, she had been placed over an important case in one of the +London hospitals—that of a gallant Canadian officer who had been +shipped home convalescent, and who had now sent for her to come to him +in Montreal. The good Sister was one of those unfortunate women who had +been expelled from France under the new law, and who was now on her way +to Quebec, there to take up her life-work again. This had been the +fifth refugee, the officer added, whom the Line had cared for. +</P> + +<P> +When the hour for retiring came, Sister Teresa, with the remark that +she would wait until Miss Jennings was in bed before she sought her own +berth, followed her companion to the stateroom, bade her good-night, +and then, with her hand on the knob, lingered for a moment as if there +was still some further word on her lips. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" asked the Nurse, with one of her direct, searching +glances. "Speak out—I'm a woman like yourself, and can understand." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, it's about the Hour of Silence. I must have one hour every day +when I can be alone. It has been the custom of my life and I cannot +omit it. It will be many days before we reach the land, and there is no +other place for me to pray except in here. Would you object if I—" +</P> + +<P> +"Object! Of course not! I will help you to keep it, and I will see, +too, that the Stewardess does not disturb you. Now, is there anything +else? Tell me—I love people who speak right out what they mean." +</P> + +<P> +"No—except that I always rise at dawn, and will be gone when you wake. +Good-night." +</P> + +<P> +The morning after this first night the two lay in their steamer chairs +on the upper deck. The First Officer, noticing them together, paused +for a moment on his way to the bridge: +</P> + +<P> +"You knew, of course, Miss Jennings, that Hobson went back to Cherbourg +on the tender. He left good-by for you." +</P> + +<P> +"Hunting for somebody, as usual, I suppose?" she rejoined. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes"—and he passed on. +</P> + +<P> +"A wretched life, isn't it," said Nurse Jennings, "this hunting for +criminals? This same man, Mr. Hobson, after a hunt of months, found one +in my ward with a bullet through his chest." +</P> + +<P> +"You know him then?" asked Sister Teresa, with a tremor in her voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—he's a Scotland Yard man." +</P> + +<P> +"And you say he was looking for some one on board and didn't find him?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, not yet, but he will find him, he always does; that's the pity of +it. Some of these poor hunted people would lead a different life if +they had another chance. I tried to save the one Hobson found in my +ward. He was quite frank with me, and told me everything. When people +trust me my heart always goes out to them—so much so that I often do +very foolish things that are apt to get me into trouble. It's when they +lie to me—and so many do—making one excuse after another for their +being in the ward—that I lose all interest in them. I pleaded with +Hobson to give the man another chance, but I could do nothing. Thief as +he was, he had told the truth. He had that quality left, and I liked +him for it. If I had known Hobson was on his track I'd have helped him +in some way to get off. He stole to help his old mother, and wasn't a +criminal in any sense—only weak-hearted. The law is cruel—it never +makes allowances—that's where it is wrong." +</P> + +<P> +"Cruel!—it's brutal. It is more brutal often than the crime," answered +Sister Teresa in a voice full of emotion. "Do you think the man your +friend was looking for here on board will escape?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, I'm afraid not. There is very little chance of any criminal +escaping when they once get on his track, so Mr. Hobson has told me. If +he is on this steamer he must run another gauntlet in New York, even if +he is among the emigrants. You know we have over a thousand on board. +If he is not aboard they will track him down. Dreadful, isn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Poor fellow," said Sister Teresa, a sob in her voice, "how sorry I am +for him. If men only knew how much wiser mercy is than justice in the +redemption of the world." Here she rose from her chair, and gathering +her black cloak about her crossed to the rail and looked out to sea. In +a few minutes she returned. "Let us walk out to the bow where we can +talk undisturbed," she said. "The constant movement of the passengers +on deck, passing backward and forward, disturbs my head. I see so few +people, you know." +</P> + +<P> +When they reached the bow, she made a place beside her for the Nurse. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't misunderstand what I said about the brutality of the law," she +began. "There must be laws, and brutal men who commit brutal crimes +must be punished. But there are so many men who are not brutal, +although the crimes may be. I knew of one once. We had educated his +little daughter—such a sweet child! The man himself was a +scene-painter and worked in the theatres in London. Sometimes he would +take part in the play himself, making up for the minor characters, +although most of his time was spent in painting scenery. He had married +a woman who was on the stage, and she had deserted him for one of the +actors, and left her child behind. Her faithlessness nearly broke his +heart. Through one of our own people in London he found us and sent the +child to the convent where we have a school for just such cases. When +the girl got to be seventeen years old he sent for her and she went to +London to see him. He remembered her mother's career, and guarded her +like a little plant. He never allowed her to come to the theatre except +in the middle of the day. Then she would come where he was at work up +on the top of the painting platform high above the stage. There he and +she would be alone. One morning while he was at work one of the +scene-shifters—a man with whom he had had some difficulty—met the +girl as she was crossing the high platform. He had never seen her +before and, thinking she was one of the chorus girls, threw his arm +about her. The girl screamed, the scene-painter dropped his brushes, +ran to her side, hit the man in the face—the scene-shifter lost his +balance and fell to the stage. Before he died in the hospital he told +who had struck him; he told why, too; that the scene-painter hated him; +and that the two had had an altercation the day before—about some +colors; which was not true, there only having been a difference of +opinion. The man fled to Paris with his daughter. The girl today is at +one of our institutions at Rouen. The detectives, suspecting that he +would try to see her, have been watching that place for the last five +months. All that time he has been employed in the garden of a convent +out of Paris. Last week we heard from a Sister in London that some one +had recognized him, although he had shaved off his beard—some visitor +or parent of one of the children, perhaps, who had come upon him +suddenly while at work in the garden beds. He is now a fugitive, hunted +like an animal. He never intended to harm this man—he only tried to +save his daughter—and yet he knew that because of the difficulty that +he had had with the dead man and the fact that his daughter's testimony +would not help him—she being an interested person—he would be made to +suffer for a crime he had not intended to commit. Now, would you hand +this poor father over to the police? In a year his daughter must leave +the convent. She then has no earthly protection." +</P> + +<P> +Miss Jennings gazed out over the sea, her brow knit in deep thought. +Her mind went back to the wounded criminal in the hospital cot and to +the look of fear and agony that came into his eyes when Hobson stood +over him and called him by name. Sister Teresa sat watching her +companion's face. Her whole life had been one of mercy and she never +lost an opportunity to plead its cause. +</P> + +<P> +The Nurse's answer came slowly: +</P> + +<P> +"No, I would not. There is misery enough in the world without my adding +to it." +</P> + +<P> +"Would you help him to escape?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, if what you tell me is true and he trusted me." +</P> + +<P> +Sister Teresa rose to her feet, crossed herself, and said in a voice +that seemed to come through pent-up tears: +</P> + +<P> +"Thank God! I go now to pray. It is my Hour of Silence." +</P> + +<P> +When she returned, Nurse Jennings was still in her seat in the bow. The +sun shone bright and warm, and the sea had become calm. +</P> + +<P> +"You look rested, Sister," she said, looking up into her face. "Your +color is fresher and the dark rings have gone from your eyes. Did you +sleep?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, I wait for the night to sleep. It is hard enough then." +</P> + +<P> +"What did you do?" +</P> + +<P> +"I prayed for you and for myself. Come to the stateroom—I have +something to tell you." +</P> + +<P> +"Tell it here," said Nurse Jennings in a more positive tone. +</P> + +<P> +"No, it might hurt you, and others will notice. Come quick, please, or +my courage will fail." +</P> + +<P> +"Can't I hear it to-night—" She was comfortable where she was and +remembered the narrow, steep steps to the lower deck. +</P> + +<P> +"No! come now—and QUICK." +</P> + +<P> +At the tone of agony in the Sister's voice Miss Jennings scrutinized +her companion's face. Her trained ear had caught an indrawn, fluttering +sob which she recognized as belonging to a certain form of hysteria. +Brooding over her troubles, combined with the effects of the sea air, +had unstrung the dear Sister's nerves. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, certainly," assented Miss Jennings. "Let me take your arm—step +carefully, and lean on me." +</P> + +<P> +On reaching the stateroom, Sister Teresa waited until Miss Jennings had +entered, then she locked the door and pulled the curtains close. +</P> + +<P> +"Listen, Miss Jennings, before you judge me. You remember yesterday how +I pleaded with you to help me find a bedroom where I could be alone. +You would not, and I could do nothing but let matters take their +course. Fate has placed me in your hands. When you said that you were +on the lookout for me and that you knew Hobson, the detective, I knew +that all was lost unless your heart went out to me. I know him, too. I +faced his eyes when I came aboard. I staggered with fright and caught +at the ropes, but he did not suspect—I saw in his face that he did +not. He may still trace me and arrest me when I land. If anybody comes +for me, say you met me in the hospital where you work." +</P> + +<P> +Nurse Jennings stood staring into the woman's eyes. Her first impulse +was to ring the bell for the Steward and send for the ship's doctor. +Sudden insanity, the result of acute hysteria, was not uncommon in +women leading sedentary lives who had gone through a heavy strain, and +the troubles of this poor Sister had, she saw, unseated her reason. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't talk so—calm yourself. No one is seeking you. You ought to lie +down. Come—" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I know you think I am crazy—I am crazy—crazy from a horrible +fear that stares me in the face—from a spectre that—" +</P> + +<P> +"Sister, you MUST lie down! I'll ring for the Doctor and he—" +</P> + +<P> +Sister Teresa sprang forward and caught the hand of the Nurse before it +touched the bell. +</P> + +<P> +"Stop! STOP!—or all will be lost! I am not a Sister—I am the +scene-painter—the father of that girl! See!" He threw back his hood, +uncovering his head and exposed his short-cropped hair. +</P> + +<P> +Nurse Jennings turned quickly and looked her companion searchingly in +the face. The surprise had been so great that for an instant her breath +left her. Then slowly the whole situation rushed over and upon her. +This man had made use of her privacy—had imposed upon her—tricked her. +</P> + +<P> +"And you—you have dared to come into this room, making me believe you +were a woman—and lied to me about your Hour of Silence and all the—" +</P> + +<P> +"It was the only way I could be safe. You and everybody else would +detect me if I did not shave and fix up my face. You said a minute ago +the dark rings had gone from my eyes—it is this paint-box that did it. +Think of what it would mean to me to be taken—and my little girl! +Don't—don't judge me wrongly. When I get to New York I promise never +to see you again—no one will ever know. If you had been my own sister +I could not have treated you with more respect since I have been in the +room. I will do anything you wish—to-night I will sleep on the +floor—anything, if—" +</P> + +<P> +"To-night! Not another hour will you stay here. I will go to the Purser +at once and—" +</P> + +<P> +"You mean to turn me out?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, merciful God! Don't! Listen—you MUST listen. Let me stay! What +difference should it make to you. You have nursed hundreds of men. You +have saved many lives. Save mine—give me back my little girl! She can +come to me in Quebec and then we can get away somewhere in America and +be safe. I can still pass as a Sister and she as a child in my charge +until I can find some place where I can throw off my disguise. See how +good the real Sisters are to me; they do not condemn me. Here is a +letter from the Mother Superior in Paris to the Mother Superior of a +convent in Quebec. It is not forged—it is genuine. If they believe in +me, why cannot you? Let me stay here, and you stay, too. You would if +you could see my child." +</P> + +<P> +The sound of a heavy step was heard outside in the corridor. +</P> + +<P> +Then came a quick, commanding voice: "Miss Jennings, open the door, +please." +</P> + +<P> +The Nurse turned quickly and made a step toward the door. The fugitive +sank upon the sofa and drew the hood over his face. +</P> + +<P> +Again her name rang out—this time in a way that showed them both that +further delay was out of the question. +</P> + +<P> +Nurse Jennings shot back the bolt. +</P> + +<P> +Outside stood the First Officer. +</P> + +<P> +"There has been a bad accident in the steerage. I hate to ask you, Miss +Jennings, knowing how tired you are—but one of the emigrants has +fallen down the forecastle hatch. The Doctor wants you to come at once." +</P> + +<P> +During the rest of the voyage Nurse Jennings slept in the steerage; she +would send to Number 49 during the day for her several belongings, but +she never passed the night there, nor did she see her companion. The +case was serious, she told the Stewardess, who came in search of her, +and she dared not leave. +</P> + +<P> +The fugitive rarely left the stateroom. Some days he pleaded illness +and had his meals brought to him; often he ate nothing. +</P> + +<P> +As the day approached for the vessel to arrive in New York a shivering +nervousness took possession of him. He would stand behind the door by +the hour listening for her lightest footfall, hoping against hope that, +after all, her heart would soften toward him. One thought absorbed him: +would she betray him, and if so, when and where? Would it be to the +First Officer—the friend of Hobson—or would she wait until they +reached New York and then hand him over to the authorities? +</P> + +<P> +Only one gleam of hope shone out illumining his doubt, and that was +that she never sent to the stateroom during the Hour of Silence, thus +giving him a chance to continue his disguise. Even this ray was dimmed +when he began to realize as they approached their destination that she +had steadily avoided him, even choosing another deck for a breath of +fresh air whenever she left her patient. That she had welcomed the +accident to the emigrant as an excuse for remaining away from her +stateroom was evident. What he could not understand was, if she really +pitied and justified him, as she had done his prototype, why she should +now treat him with such suspicion. At her request he had opened his +heart and had trusted her; why then could she not forgive him for the +deceit of that first night—one for which he was not responsible? +</P> + +<P> +Then a new thought chilled him like an icy wind: her avoidance of him +was only an evidence of her purpose! Thus far she had not exposed him, +because then it would be known aboard that they had shared the +stateroom together. He saw it all now. She was waiting until they +reached the dock. Then no one would be the wiser. +</P> + +<P> +When the steamer entered her New York slip and the gangplank was +hoisted aboard, another thick-set, closely-knit man pushed his way +through the crowd at the rail, walked straight to the Purser and +whispered something in his ear. The next moment he had glided to where +the Nurse and fugitive were standing. +</P> + +<P> +"This is Miss Jennings, isn't it? I'm from the Central Office," and he +opened his coat and displayed the gold shield. "We've just got a cable +from Hobson. He said you were on board and might help. I'm looking for +a man. We've got no clew—don't know that he's on board, but I thought +we'd look the list over. The Purser tells me that you helped the Doctor +in the steerage—says somebody had been smashed up. Got anything to +suggest?—anybody that would fit this description: 'Small man, only +five-feet-six; blue eyes'"—and he read from a paper in his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"No, I don't think so. I was in the steerage, of course, four or five +days, and helped on a bad case, but I didn't notice anybody but the few +people immediately about me." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps, then, among the first-class passengers? Anybody peculiar +there? He's a slick one, we hear, and may be working a stunt in +disguise." +</P> + +<P> +"No. To tell you the truth, I was so tired when I came aboard that I +hardly spoke to any one—no one, really, except my dear Sister Teresa +here, who shared my stateroom. They have driven her out of France and +she is on her way to a convent in Quebec. I go with her as far as +Montreal." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="joplin"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SAM JOPLIN'S EPIGASTRIC NERVE +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +I +</H4> + +<P> +"You eat too much, Marny." It was Joplin, of Boston, who was +speaking—Samuel Epigastric Joplin, his brother painters called him. +"You treat your stomach as if it were a scrap-basket and you dump into +it everything you—" +</P> + +<P> +"I do? You caricature of a codfish ball!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, you do. You open your mouth, pin back your ears and in go +pickles, red cabbage, Dutch cheese. It's insanity, Marny, and it's +vulgar. No man's epigastric can stand it. It wouldn't make any +difference if you were a kangaroo with your pouch on the outside, but +you're a full-grown man and ought to have some common-sense." +</P> + +<P> +"And you think that if I followed your idiotic theory it would keep me +out of my coffin, do you? What you want, Joppy, is a square meal. You +never had one, so far as I can find out, since you were born. You drank +sterilized milk at blood temperature until you were five; chewed +patent, unhulled wheat bread until you were ten, and since that time +you've filled your stomach with husks—proteids, and carbohydrates, and +a lot of such truck—isn't that what he calls em, Pudfut?" +</P> + +<P> +The Englishman nodded in assent. +</P> + +<P> +"And now just look at you, Joppy, instead of a forty-inch chest—" +</P> + +<P> +"And a sixty-inch waist," interjected Joplin with a laugh, pointing at +Marny's waistcoat. +</P> + +<P> +"I acknowledge it, old man, and I'm proud of it," retorted Marny, +patting his rotundity. "Instead, I say, of a decent chest your +shoulders crowd your breast-bone; your epigastric, as you call it—it's +your solar plexus, Joppy—but that's a trifle to an anatomist like +you—your epigastric scrapes your back-bone, so lonely is it for +something warm and digestible to rub up against, and your— Why, Joppy, +do you know when I look at you and think over your wasted life, my eyes +fill with tears? Eat something solid, old man, and give your stomach a +surprise. Begin now. Dinner's coming up—I smell it. Open your port +nostril, you shrivelled New England bean, and take in the aroma of +beatific pork and greens. Doesn't that put new life into you? Puddy, +you and Schonholz help Joppy to his feet and one or two of you fellows +walk behind to pick up the pieces in case he falls apart before we can +feed him. There's Tine's dinner-bell!" +</P> + +<P> +White-capped, rosy-checked, bare-armed Tine had rung that bell for this +group of painters for two years past—ever since Mynheer Boudier of the +Bellevue over the way, who once claimed her services, had reproved +Johann, the porter, for blocking up with the hotel trunks that part of +the sidewalk over which the steamboat captain slid his gangplank. +Thereupon Tine slipped her pretty little feet into her white +sabots—she and Johann have been called in church since—and walked +straight over to the Holland Arms. Johann now fights the steamboat +captain, backed not only by the landlord of the Arms, who rubs his +hands in glee over the possession of two of his competitor's best +servants, but by the whole coterie of painters whose boots Johann +blacks, whose kits be packs and unpacks, whose errands he runs; while +Tine, no less loyal and obliging, darns their stockings, mends their +clothes, sews on buttons, washes brushes, stretches canvases, waits on +table, rings the dinner-bell, and with her own hands scrubs every +square inch of visible surface inside and out of this quaint old inn in +this sleepy old town of Dort-on-the-Maas—side-walks, windows, +cobbles—clear to the middle of the street, her ruddy arms bare to the +elbow, her sturdy, blue-yarn-stockinged legs thrust into snow-white +sabots to keep her trim feet from the wet and slop. +</P> + +<P> +Built in 1620, this inn of the Holland Arms—so the mildewed brick in +the keystone over the arch of the doorway says—and once the home of a +Dutchman made rich by the China trade, whose ships cast anchor where +Fop Smit's steamboats now tie up (I have no interest in the Line); a +grimy, green-moulded, lean-over front and moss-covered, sloping-roof +sort of an inn, with big beams supporting the ceilings of the bedrooms; +lumbering furniture blackened with the smoke of a thousand pipes +flanking the walls of the coffee-room; bits of Delft a century old +lining the mantel; tiny panes of glass with here and there a bull's-eye +illumining the squat windows; rows of mugs with pewter tops crowding +the narrow shelves beside the fireplace, and last, and by no means +least, a big, bulky sun-moon-and-stars clock, with one eye always open, +which strikes the hours as if it meant to beat the very life out of +them. +</P> + +<P> +But there is something more in this coffee-room—something that neither +Mynheer Boudier of the Bellevue nor any other landlord in any other +hostelry, great or small, up and down the Maas, can boast. This is the +coffee-room picture gallery—free to whoever comes. +</P> + +<P> +It began with a contribution from the first impecunious painter in +payment of an overdue board-bill, his painting being hung on a nail +beside the clock. Now; all over the walls—above the sideboard with its +pewter plates and queer mugs; over the mantel holding the Delft, and +between the squat windows—are pinned, tacked, pasted and hung—singly +and in groups—sketches in oil, pastel, water color, pencil and +charcoal, many without frames and most of them bearing the signature of +some poor, stranded painter, preceded by the suggestive line, "To my +dear friend, the landlord"—silent reminders all of a small cash +balance which circumstances quite beyond their control had prevented +their liquidating at the precise hour of their departure. +</P> + +<P> +Mynheer had bowed and smiled as each new contribution was handed him +and straightway had found a hammer and a nail and up it went beside its +fellows. He never made objection: the more the merrier. The ice wind +would soon blow across the Maas from Papendrecht, the tall grasses in +the marshes turn pale with fright, and the lace-frost with busy fingers +pattern the tiny panes, and then Johann would pack the kits one after +another, and the last good-byes take place. But the sketches would +remain. Oh! yes, the sketches would remain and tell the story of the +summer and every night new mugs would be filled around the coal-fire, +and new pipes lighted—mugs and pipes of the TOWNSPEOPLE this time, who +came to feast their eyes,—and, although the summer was gone, the long +winter would still be his. No, Mynheer never objected! +</P> + +<P> +And this simple form of settlement—a note of hand (in color), payable +in yearly patronage—has not been confined to modern times. Many an inn +owes its survival to a square of canvas—the head of a child, a copper +pot, or stretch of dune; and more than one collector now boasts of a +masterpiece which had hung for years on some taproom wall, a sure but +silent witness of the poverty of a Franz Hals, Wouverman or Van der +Helst. +</P> + +<P> +Each year had brought new additions to the impecunious group about +Mynheer's table. +</P> + +<P> +Dear old Marny, with his big boiler amidships, his round, sunburned +face shaded by a wide-brimmed, slouch hat—the one he wore when he +lived with the Sioux Indians—loose red tie tossed over one shoulder, +and rusty velveteen coat, was an old habitue. And so was dry, crusty +Malone, "the man from Dublin," rough outside as a potato and white +inside as its meal. And so, too, was Stebbins, the silent man of the +party, and the only listener in the group. All these came with the +earliest birds and stayed until the boys got out their skates. +</P> + +<P> +But there were others this year who were new. Pudfut, the Englishman, +first—in from Norway, where he had been sketching on board some lord's +yacht—he of the grizzly brown beard, brown ulster reaching to his +toes, gray-checked steamer-cap and brierwood pipe—an outfit which he +never changed—"slept in them," Marny insisted. +</P> + +<P> +"Me name's Pudfut," he began, holding out his hand to Marny. "I've got +a letter in my clothes for ye from a chap in Paris." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't pull it out," had come the answer. "Put it there!" and within an +hour the breezy fellow, his arm through the Englishman's, had trotted +him all over Dort from the Groote Kerk to the old Gate of William of +Orange, introducing him to every painter he met on the way, first as +Pudfut, then as Puddy, then as Pretty-foot, then as Tootsie-Wootsie, +and last as Toots—a name by which he is known in the Quartier to this +day. This done, he had taken him up to his own room and had dumped him +into an extra cot—his for the rest of the summer. +</P> + +<P> +Then Schonholz wandered in—five gulden a week board was the magnet—a +cheese-faced, good-natured German lad with forehead so high that when +he raised his hat Marny declared, with a cry of alarm, that his scalp +had slipped, and only regained his peace of mind when he had twisted +his fat fingers in the lad's forelock to make sure that it was still +fast. Schonholz had passed a year at Heidelberg and carried his diploma +on his cheek—two crisscross slashes that had never healed—spoke +battered English, wore a green flat-topped cap, and gray bobtailed coat +with two rows of horn buttons ("Come to shoot chamois, have you?" Marny +had asked when he presented his credentials.)—laughed three-quarters +of the time he was awake, and never opened his kit or set a palette +while he was in Dort. "Too vet and too fodgy all dime," was the way he +accounted for his laziness. +</P> + +<P> +Last came Joplin—a man of thirty-five; bald as an egg and as shiny. +("Dangerous to have a hen around," Marny would say, rubbing the pate +after the manner of a phrenologist.) Gaunt, wiry; jerky in his +movements as a Yankee clock and as regular in his habits: hot water +when he got up—two glasses, sipped slowly; cold water when he went to +bed, head first, feet next, then the rest of him; window open all night +no matter how hard it blew or rained; ate three meals a day and no +more; chewed every mouthful of food thirty times—coffee, soup, even +his drinking-water (Gladstone had taught him that, he boasted)—a +walking laboratory of a man, who knew it all, took no layman's advice, +and was as set in his ways as a chunk of concrete. +</P> + +<P> +And his fads did not stop with his food; they extended to his +clothes—everything he used, in fact. His baggy knickerbockers ended in +leather leggins to protect his pipe-stem shanks; his shirts buttoned +all the way down in front and went on like a coat; he wore health +flannels by day and a health shirt at night ("Just like my old Aunt +Margaret's wrapper," whispered Marny in a stage voice to Pudfut); +sported a ninety-nine-cent silver watch fastened to a leather strap +(sometimes to a piece of twine); stuck a five-hundred-dollar scarab pin +in his necktie—"Nothing finer in the Boston Museum," he maintained, +and told the truth—and ever and always enunciated an English so pure +and so undefiled that Stebbins, after listening to it for a few +minutes, proposed, with an irreverence born of good-fellowship, that a +subscription be started to have Joplin's dialect phonographed so that +it might be handed down to posterity as the only real and correct thing. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you noticing, gentlemen, the way in which Joplin handles his +mother tongue?" Stebbins had shouted across the table: "never drops his +'g's,' never slights his first syllable; says 'HUmor' with an accent on +the 'HU.' But for the fact that he pronounces 'bonnet' 'BUNNIT' and +'admires' a thing when he really ought only to 'like' it, you could +never discover his codfish bringing up. Out with your wallets—how much +do you chip in?" +</P> + +<P> +These peculiarities soon made Joplin the storm-centre of every +discussion. Not only were his views on nutrition ridiculed, but all his +fads were treated with equal disrespect. "Impressionism," "plein air," +the old "line engraving" in contrast to the modern "half-tone" +methods—any opinion of Joplin's, no matter how sane or logical, was +jostled, sat on, punched in the ribs and otherwise maltreated until +every man was breathless or black in the face with assumed rage—every +man except the man jostled, who never lost his temper no matter what +the provocation, and who always came up smiling with some such remark +as: "Smite away, you Pharisees; harmony is heavenly—but stupid. Keep +it up—here's the other cheek!" +</P> + +<P> +On this particular night Joplin, as I have said, had broken out on +diet. Some movement of Marny's connected with the temporary relief of +the lower button of his waistcoat had excited the great Bostonian's +wrath. The men were seated at dinner inside the coffee-room, Johann and +Tine serving. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Marny, I'm sorry to say it, but the fact is you eat too much and +you eat the wrong things. If you knew anything of the kinds of food +necessary to nourish the human body, you would know that it should +combine in proper proportions proteid, fats, carbohydrates and a small +percentage of inorganic salts—these are constantly undergoing +oxidation and at the same time are liberating energy in the form of +heat." +</P> + +<P> +"Hear the bloody bounder!" bawled Pudfut from the other end of the +table. +</P> + +<P> +"Silence!" called Marny, with his ear cupped in his fingers, an +expression of the farthest-away-boy-in-the-class on his face. +</P> + +<P> +Joplin waved his hand in protest and continued, without heeding the +interruption: "Now, if you're stupid enough to stuff your epigastrium +with pork, you, of course, get an excess of non-nitrogenous fats, and +in order to digest anything properly you must necessarily cram in an +additional quantity of carbohydrates—greens, potatoes, +cabbage—whatever Tine shoves under your nose. Consult any scientist +and see if I am not right—especially the German doctors who have made +a specialty of nutrition. Such men as Fugel, Beenheim and—" +</P> + +<P> +Here a slice of Tine's freshly-cut bread made a line-shot, struck the +top of Joplin's scalp, caromed on Schonholz's shirt-front and fell into +Stebbins's lap, followed instantly by "Order, gentlemen!" from Marny. +"Don't waste that slab of proteid. The learned Bean is most interesting +and should not be interrupted." +</P> + +<P> +"Better out than in," continued Joplin, brushing the crumbs from his +plate. "Bread—fresh bread particularly—is the very worst thing a man +can put into his stomach." +</P> + +<P> +"And how about pertaties?" shouted Malone. "I s'pose ye'd rob us of the +only thing that's kep' us alive as a nation, wouldn't ye?" +</P> + +<P> +"I certainly would, 'Loney, except in very small quantities. Raw +potatoes contain twenty-two per cent. of the worst form of +non-nitrogenous food, and seventy-eight per cent. of water. You, +Malone, with your sedentary habits, should never touch an ounce of +potato. It excites the epigastric nerve and induces dyspepsia. You're +as lazy as the devil and should only eat nitrogenous food and never in +excess. What you require is about one hundred grams of protein, giving +you a fuel value of twenty-seven hundred calories, and to produce this +fifty-five ounces of food a day is enough. When you exceed this you run +to flesh—unhealthy bloat really—and in the wrong places. You've only +to look at Marny's sixty-inch waist-line to prove the truth of this +theory. Now look at me—I keep my figure, don't I? Not a bad one for a +light-weight, is it? I'm in perfect health, can run, jump, eat, sleep, +paint, and but for a slight organic weakness with my heart, which is +hereditary in my family and which kills most of us off at about seventy +years of age, I'm as sound as a nut. And all—all, let me tell you, due +to my observing a few scientific laws regarding hygiene which you men +never seem to have heard of." +</P> + +<P> +Malone now rose to his feet, pewter mug in hand, and swept his eye +around the table. +</P> + +<P> +"Bedad, you're right, Joppy," he said with a wink at Marny—"food's the +ruination of us all; drink is what we want. On yer feet, +gintlemen—every mother's son of ye! Here's to the learned, livin' +skeleton from Boston! Five per cint. man and ninety-five per cint. +crank!" +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +II +</H4> + +<P> +The next morning the group of painters—all except Joplin, who was +doing a head in "smears" behind the Groote Kerk a mile away—were at +work in the old shipyard across the Maas at Papendrecht. Marny was +painting a Dutch lugger with a brown-madder hull and an emerald-green +stern, up on the ways for repairs. Pudfut had the children of the +Captain posed against a broken windlass rotting in the tall grass near +the dock, and Malone and Schonholz, pipe in mouth, were on their backs +smoking. "It wasn't their kind of a mornin'," Malone had said. +</P> + +<P> +Joplin's discourse the night before was evidently lingering in their +minds, for Pudfut broke out with: "Got to sit on Joppy some way or +we'll be talked to death," and he squeezed a tube of color on his +palette. "Getting to be a bloody nuisance." +</P> + +<P> +"Only one way to fix him," remarked Stebbins, picking up his mahlstick +from the grass beside him. +</P> + +<P> +"How?" came a chorus. +</P> + +<P> +"Scare him to death." +</P> + +<P> +The painters laid down their brushes. Stebbins rarely expressed an +opinion; any utterance from him, therefore, carried weight. +</P> + +<P> +"Go for him about his health, I tell you," continued Stebbins, dragging +a brush from the sheaf in his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"But there's nothing the matter with him," answered Marny. "He's as +skinny as a coal-mine mule, but he's got plenty of kick in him yet." +</P> + +<P> +"You're dead right, Marny," answered Stebbins, "but he doesn't think +so. He's as big a fool over every little pain as he is over his +theories." +</P> + +<P> +"Niver cracked his jaw to me about it," sputtered Malone from between +the puffs of his pipe. +</P> + +<P> +"No, and he won't. I don't jump on him as you fellows do and so I get +his confidence. He's in my room two or three times every night going +over his symptoms. When his foot's asleep he thinks he's got creeping +paralysis. Every time his breath comes short, his heart's giving out." +</P> + +<P> +"That's hereditary!" said Marny; "he said so." +</P> + +<P> +"Hereditary be hanged! Same with everything else. Last night he dug me +out of bed and wanted me to count his pulse—thought it intermitted. +He's hipped, I tell you, on his health!" +</P> + +<P> +"That's because he lives on nothing," rejoined Marny. "Tine puts the +toast in the oven over night so it will be dry enough for him in the +morning—she told me so yesterday. Now he's running on sour milk and +vinegar—'blood too alkaline,' he says—got a chalky taste in his +mouth!" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, whatever it is, he's a rum-nuisance," said Pudfut, "and he ought +to be jumped on." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," retorted Stebbins, "but not about his food. Jump on him about +his health, then he'll kick back and in pure obstinacy begin to think +he's well—that's his nature." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you do anything of the kind," protested Marny. "Joppy's all +right—best lad I know. Let him talk; doesn't hurt anybody and keeps +everything alive. A little hot air now and then helps his epigastric." +</P> + +<P> +Malone and Schonholz had raised themselves on their elbows, twisted +their shoulders and had put their heads together—literally—without +lifting their lazy bodies from the warm, dry grass—so close that one +slouch hat instead of two might have covered their conspiring brains. +From under the rims of these thatches came smothered laughs and such +unintelligible mutterings as: +</P> + +<P> +"Dot's de vay, by chimminy, 'Loney! And den I—" +</P> + +<P> +"No, begorra! Let me have a crack at him fu'st!" +</P> + +<P> +"No, I vill before go and you come—" +</P> + +<P> +"Not a word to Marny, remimber; he'd give it away—" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, but we vill tell Poodfut und Sthebbins, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +That afternoon the diabolical plot was put in motion. The men had +finished for the day; had crossed the ferry and had found Joplin +wandering around the dock looking for a new subject. The Groote Kerk +"smear" was under his arm. +</P> + +<P> +Pudfut, under pretence of inspecting the smear—a portrait of the old +Sacristan on a bench in front of the main entrance—started back in +surprise on seeing the Bostonian, and asked with an anxious tone in his +voice: +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't you well, old man? Look awfully yellow about the gills. Worked +too hard, haven't you? No use overdoing it." +</P> + +<P> +"Well? Of course I'm well! Sound as a nut. Little bilious, maybe, but +that's nothing. Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, nothing! Must say, though, you gave me a twist when I came on you +suddenly. Maybe it's your epigastric nerve; maybe it's your liver and +will pass off, but I'd knock off work for a day or two if I were you." +</P> + +<P> +Malone now took a hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me carry yer kit, Joppy, ye look done up. What's happened to ye, +man, since mornin'?" +</P> + +<P> +"Never felt better in my life," protested Joplin. "No, I'll carry +it—not heavy—" +</P> + +<P> +Then he quickened his pace—they were all on their way back to the +inn—and overtook Stebbins and Schonholz. +</P> + +<P> +"Stebbins, old man—" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Joppy." +</P> + +<P> +"What I told you last night is turning out just as I expected. Heart's +been acting queer all morning and my epigastric nerve is very +sensitive. Puddy says I look awful. Do you see it?" +</P> + +<P> +Stebbins looked into the Bostonian's face, hesitated, and said with an +apologetic tone in his voice: +</P> + +<P> +"Well, everybody looks better one time than another. You've been +working too hard, maybe." +</P> + +<P> +"But do I look yellow?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, to tell you the truth, Joppy, you do—yellow as a gourd—not +always, just now and then when you walk fast or run upstairs." +</P> + +<P> +"I've been afraid of that. Was my pulse all right when you counted it +last night?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, certainly—skipped a beat now and then, but that's nothing. I had +an uncle once who had a pulse that wobbled like that. He, of course, +went off suddenly; some said it was apoplexy; some said it was his +heart—these doctors never agree. I wouldn't worry about it, old man. +Hold on, Pudfut, don't walk so fast." +</P> + +<P> +Pudfut held on, and so did Schonholz and Malone, and then the four +slipped behind a pile of oil barrels and concentrated their slouch hats +and Schonholz slapped his thigh and said with a smothered laugh that it +was "sphlendeed!" and Malone and Pudfut agreed, and then the three +locked arms and went singing up the street, their eyes on Joplin's +pipe-stem legs as he trotted beside Marny on his way to the inn. +</P> + +<P> +When the party reached the coffee-room Marny called Tine to his side, +spread out the fingers and thumb of one hand, and that rosy-cheeked +lass without the loss of a second, clattered over to the little shelf, +gathered up five empty mugs and disappeared down the cellar steps. This +done the coterie drew their chairs to one of Tine's hand-scrubbed +tables and sat down, all but Joplin, who kept on his way to his room. +There the Bostonian remained, gazing out of the window until Johann had +banged twice on his door in announcement of dinner. Then he joined the +others. +</P> + +<P> +When all were seated Schonholz made a statement which was followed with +results more astounding to the peace of the coterie than anything which +had occurred since the men came together. +</P> + +<P> +"I haf bad news, boys," he began, "offle bad news. Mine fader has wrote +dat home I must. Nod anuder mark he say vill he gif me. Eef I could +sell somedings—but dat ees very seldom. No, Marny, you don't can lend +me noddings. What vill yourselluf do? Starve!" +</P> + +<P> +"Where do you live, Schonholz?" asked Joplin. +</P> + +<P> +"By Fizzenbad." +</P> + +<P> +"What kind of a place is it—baths?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"What are they good for?" continued Joplin in a subdued tone. +</P> + +<P> +"Noddings, but blenty peoples go." +</P> + +<P> +"I can tell you, Joppy," said Pudfut gravely, with a wink at Malone. +"There are two spas, both highly celebrated. Lord Ellenboro spent a +month there and came back looking like another man. One is for the +liver and the other for something or other, I can't recollect what." +</P> + +<P> +"Heart?" asked Joplin. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know." +</P> + +<P> +He didn't,—had never heard the place mentioned until Schonholz had +called its name a moment before. +</P> + +<P> +Joplin played with his knife and made an attempt to nibble a slice of +Tine's toast, but he made no reply. All the fight of every kind seemed +to have been knocked out of him. +</P> + +<P> +"Better take Fizzenbad in, Joppy," remarked Pudfut in an undertone. +"May do you a lot of good." +</P> + +<P> +"How far is it, Schonholz?" asked Joplin, ignoring the Englishman's +suggestion. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you leafe in de morgen and you come by Fizzenbad in a day more as +do one you go oud mid." +</P> + +<P> +"No—can't afford it." +</P> + +<P> +Here Joplin pushed back his chair, and with the remark that he thought +he would go downtown for some colors, left the room. +</P> + +<P> +"It's working like a dose of salts," cried Pudfut when the Bostonian +was out of hearing. "Hasn't said 'epigastric nerve,' 'gram' or +'proteids' once. Got real human in an hour. Stebbins, you're a wonder." +</P> + +<P> +The next morning everybody was up bright and early to see Schonholz +off. One of Fop Smit's packets was to leave for Rotterdam at seven and +Schonholz was a passenger. He could go by rail, but the boat was +cheaper. No deceptions had been practised and no illusions indulged in +as to the cause of his departure. He had had his supplies cut off, was +flat broke and as helpless as a plant without water. They had all, at +one time or another, passed through a similar crisis and knew exactly +what it meant. A purse, of course, could have been made up—Marny even +insisted on sharing his last hundred francs with him—and Mynheer would +have allowed the board-bill to run on indefinitely with or without an +addition to his collection, but the lad was not built along those lines. +</P> + +<P> +"No—I go home and help mine fader once a leetle, den maybe I come +back, don't it?" was the way he put it. +</P> + +<P> +The next morning, when the procession formed to escort him through the +Old Gate, every man answered to his name except Joplin—he had either +overslept himself or was taking an extra soak in his portable tub. +</P> + +<P> +"Run, Tine, and call Mr. Joplin," cried Marny—"we'll go ahead. Tell +him to come to the dock." +</P> + +<P> +Away clattered the sabots up the steep stairs, and away they scurried +down the bare corridor to Joplin's room. There Tine knocked. Hearing no +response she pushed open the door and looked in. The room was empty! +Then she noticed that the bed had not been slept in, nor had anything +on the washstand been used. Stepping in softly for some explanation of +the unusual occurrence—no such thing had ever happened in her +experience, not unless she had been notified in advance—her eye rested +on a letter addressed to Stebbins propped up in full view against a +book on Joplin's table. Catching it up as offering the only explanation +of his unaccountable disappearance, she raced downstairs and, crossing +the cobbles on a run, laid the letter in Stebbins's hand. +</P> + +<P> +"For me, Tine?" +</P> + +<P> +The girl nodded, her eyes on the painter's. +</P> + +<P> +The painter broke the seal and his face grew serious. Then he beckoned +to Marny and read the contents aloud, the others crowding close: +</P> + +<P> +Dear Stebbins: +</P> + +<P> +Keep my things until I send for them. I take the night train for +Rotterdam. Tell Schonholz I'll join him there and go on with him to +Fizzenbad. Sorry to leave this way, but I could not bear to bid you all +good-by. Joplin. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +III +</H4> + +<P> +That night the table was one prolonged uproar. The conspirators had +owned up frankly to their share of the villany, and were hard at work +concocting plans for its undoing. Marny was the one man in the group +that would not be pacified; nothing that either Pudfut, Stebbins or +Malone had said or could say changed his mind—and the discussion, +which had lasted all day, brought him no peace. +</P> + +<P> +"Drove him out!—that's what you did, you bull-headed Englishman—you +and Malone and Stebbins ought to be ashamed of yourselves. If I had +known what you fellows were up to I'd have pitched you all over the +dike. Cost Joppy a lot of money and break up all his summer work! What +did you want to guy him like that for and send him off to be scalded +and squirted on in a damned Dutch—" +</P> + +<P> +"But we didn't think he'd take it as hard as that." +</P> + +<P> +"You didn't, didn't you! What DID you think he'd do? Didn't you see how +sensitive and nervous he was? The matter with you fellows is that Joppy +is a thoroughbred and you never saw one of his kind in your life. Ever +since he got here you've done nothing but jump all over him and try to +rile him, and he never squawked once—came up smiling every time. He's +a thoroughbred—that's what he is!" +</P> + +<P> +The days that followed were burdened with a sadness the coterie could +not shake off. Whatever they had laughed at and derided in Joplin they +now longed for. The Bostonian may have been a nuisance in one way, but +he had kept the ball of conversation rolling—had started it many +times—and none of the others could fill his place. Certain of his +views became respected. "As dear old Joppy used to say," was a common +expression, and "By Jove, he was right!" not an uncommon opinion. In +conformity with his teachings, Marny reduced his girth measure an inch +and his weight two pounds—not much for Marny, but extraordinary all +the same when his appetite was considered. +</P> + +<P> +Pudfut, in contrition of his offence, wrote his English friend Lord +Something-or-other, who owned the yacht, and who was at Carlsbad, +begging him to run up and see the "best ever" and "one of us"—and +Malone never lost an opportunity to say how quick he was in repartee, +or how he missed him. Stebbins kept his mouth shut. +</P> + +<P> +He had started the crusade, he knew, and was personally responsible for +the result. He had tried to arouse Joplin's obstinacy and had only +aroused his fears. All he could do in reparation was to keep in touch +with the exile and pave the way for his homecoming. If Joppy was ill, +which he doubted, some of the German experts in whom the Bostonian +believed would find the cause and the remedy. If he was "sound as a +nut," to quote Joplin's own words, certainty of that fact, after an +exhaustive examination by men he trusted, would relieve his nervous +mind and make him all the happier. +</P> + +<P> +The first letter came from Schonholz. Liberally translated, with the +assistance of Mynheer, who spoke a little German, it conveyed the +information that the Bostonian, after being put on a strict diet, had +been douched, pounded and rubbed; was then on his second week of +treatment; had one more to serve; was at the moment feeling like a +fighting-cock, and after a fifth week at Stuckbad, in the mountains, +where he was to take the after-cure, would be as strong as a +three-year-old, and as frisky. +</P> + +<P> +The second letter was from Joplin himself and was addressed to +Stebbins. This last was authentic, and greatly relieved the situation. +It read: +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Nothing like a thoroughly trained expert, my dear Stebbins. These +German savants fill me with wonder. The moment Dr. Stuffen fixed his +eyes upon me he read my case like an open book. No nitrogenous food of +any kind, was his first verdict; hot douches and complete rest packed +in wet compresses, the next. I am losing flesh, of course, but it is +only the "deadwood" of the body, so to speak. This Dr. Stuffen expects +to replace with new shoots—predicts I will weigh forty pounds more—a +charming and, to me, a most sane theory. You will be delighted also to +hear that my epigastric nerve hasn't troubled me since I arrived. Love +to the boys, whom I expect to see before the month is out. Joppy. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"Forty pounds heavier!" cried Marny from his end of the table. "He'll +look like a toy balloon in knee pants. Bully for Joppy! I wouldn't let +any Schweizerkase with a hot douche get within a hundred yards of me, +but then I'm not a bunch of nerves like Joppy. Anyhow, boys, we'll give +the lad a welcome that will raise the roof. Joppy thin was pretty good +fun, but Joppy fat will be a roaring farce." +</P> + +<P> +And so it was decided, and at once all sorts and kinds of welcomes were +discussed, modified, rearranged and discussed again. Pudfut suggested +meeting him in Rotterdam and having a night of it. Malone thought of +chartering a steam launch, hiring a band and bringing him past the +towns with flags flying. Stebbins and Marny favored some demonstration +nearer home, where everybody could join in. +</P> + +<P> +The programme finally agreed upon included a pathway of boughs strewn +with wild flowers from the steamboat landing, across the planking, over +the cobbles, under the old Gate of William of Orange, and so on to the +door of the inn; the appointment of Tine, dressed in a Zeeland costume +belonging to her grand-mother, as special envoy, to meet him with a +wreath of laurel, and Johann in short clothes—also heirlooms—was to +walk by his side as First Groom of the Bed Chamber. +</P> + +<P> +The real Reception Committee, consisting of Mynheer in a burgomaster +suit borrowed from a friend, and the four painters—Marny as a Dutch +Falstaff, Pudfut as a Spanish Cavalier, Stebbins got up as a Night +Watch, and Malone in the costume of a Man-at-Arms—all costumes loaned +for the occasion by the antiquary in the next street—were to await +Joplin's coming in the privacy of the Gate—almost a tunnel—and so +close to the door of the inn that it might have passed for a part of +the establishment itself. +</P> + +<P> +Meantime the four painters were to collect material for the decoration +of the coffee-room—wreaths of greens over the mantel and festoons of +ivy hanging down the back of Joplin's chair being prominent features; +while Mynheer, Tine and Johann were to concentrate their energies in +preparing a dinner the like of which had never been eaten since the +sluiceways in the dikes drowned out the Spanish duke. Not a word of all +this, of course, had reached the ears of the Bostonian. Half, +three-quarters, if not all, the enjoyment of the occasion would be +realized when they looked on Joplin's face and read his surprise. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +IV +</H4> + +<P> +The eventful day at last arrived. Stebbins, as prearranged, had begged +the exile to telegraph the exact hour of his departure and mode of +travel from Rotterdam, suggesting the boat as being by far the best, +and Joplin had answered in return that Fop Smit's packet, due at +sundown the following day, would count him among its passengers. +</P> + +<P> +The deep tones of the whistle off Papendrecht sent every man to his +post, the villagers standing back in amazement at the extraordinary +spectacle, especially at Tine and Johann in their queer clothes, who, +being instantly recognized, were plied with questions. +</P> + +<P> +The boat slowed down; made fast; out came the gangplank; ashore went +the little two-wheel carts drawn by the sleepy, tired dogs; then the +baskets of onions were rolled off, and the few barrels of freight, and +then two or three passengers—among them a small, feeble man, in a long +coat reaching to his heels—made their way to the dock. +</P> + +<P> +NO JOPPY!! +</P> + +<P> +"That's the last man to come ashore here," said Marny. "What's become +of the lad?" +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe he's gone aft," cried Stebbins; "maybe—" +</P> + +<P> +Here Tine gave a little scream, dropped her wreath and running toward +the small, feeble man, threw her arms around his neck. Marny and the +others bounded over the cobbles, tossing the bystanders out of the way +as they forged ahead. When they reached Joplin he was still clinging to +Tine, his sunken cheeks and hollow deep-set eyes telling only too +plainly how great an effort he was making to keep on his legs. The four +painters formed a close bodyguard and escorted their long-lost brother +to the inn. +</P> + +<P> +Mynheer, in his burgomaster suit, met the party at the door, conducted +them inside and silently drew out the chairs at the coffee-room table. +He was too overcome to speak. +</P> + +<P> +Joplin dropped into the one hung with ivy and rested his hands on the +table. +</P> + +<P> +"Lord! how good it is to get here!" he said, gazing about him, a +tremble in his voice. "You don't know what I've gone through, boys." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, we thought you were getting fat, Joppy," burst out Marny at last. +Up to this time his voice, like that of the others, seemed to have left +him, so great was his surprise and anxiety. +</P> + +<P> +Joplin waved his forefinger toward Marny in a deprecatory way, as if +the memory of his experience was too serious for discussion, played +with his fork a moment, and said slowly: +</P> + +<P> +"Will you lay it up against me, fellows, if I tell you the truth? I'm +not as strong as I was and a good deal of the old fight is out of me." +</P> + +<P> +"Lay up nothin'!" cried Malone. "And when it comes to fightin' ye kin +count on me every—" +</P> + +<P> +"Dry up!" broke in Marny. "You're way off, Malone. No, Joppy, not a man +here will open his head: say the rest." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, then, listen," continued the Bostonian. "I did everything they +told me: got up at daylight; walked around the spring seven times; +sipped the water; ate what they prescribed; lay in wet sheets two hours +every day; was kneaded by a man with a chest as hairy as a satyr's and +arms like a blacksmith's; stood up and was squirted at; had everything +about me looked into—even stuck needles in my arm for a sample of my +blood; and at the end of three weeks was so thin that my trousers had +to be lapped over in the back under a leather strap to keep them above +my hips, and my coat hung down as if it were ashamed of me. Doctor +Stuffen then handed me a certificate and his bill. This done he stood +me up and repeated this formula—has it printed—all languages: +</P> + +<P> +"'You have now thrown from your system every particle of foul tissues, +Mr.—, ah, yes—Mr. Joblin, I believe.' And he looked at the paper. +'You thought you were reasonably fat, Mr. Joblin. You were not fat, you +were merely bloated. Go now to Stuckbad for two weeks. There you will +take the after-cure; keep strictly to the diet, a list of which I now +hand you. At the expiration of that time you will be a strong man. +Thank you—my secretary will send you a receipt.' +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I went to Stuckbad—crawled really—put up at the hotel and sent +for the resident doctor, Professor Ozzenbach, Member of the Board of +Pharmacy of Berlin, Specialist on Nutrition, Fellow of the Royal +Society of Bacteriologists, President of the Vienna Association of +Physiological Research—that kind of man. He looked me all over and +shook his head. He spoke broken English—badly. +</P> + +<P> +"'Who has dreated you, may I ask, Meester Boblin?' +</P> + +<P> +"'Doctor Stuffen, at Fizzenbad.' +</P> + +<P> +"'Ah, yes, a fery goot man, but a leedle de times behindt. Vat did you +eat?' +</P> + +<P> +"I handed him the list. +</P> + +<P> +"'No vonder dot you are thin, my frent—yoost as I oxpected—dis ees de +olt deory of broteids. Dot is all oxbloded now. Eef you haf stay anuder +mont you vould be dead. Everyting dot he has dold you vas yoost de +udder way; no bread, no meelk, no vegebubbles—noddings of dis, not von +leedle bit. I vill make von leest—come to-morrow.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Did you go, Joppy?" inquired Stebbins. +</P> + +<P> +"DID <I>I</I> GO? Yes, back to the depot and on to Cologne. That night I ate +two plates of sauerkraut, a slice of pork and a piece of cheese the +size of my hand; slept like a top." +</P> + +<P> +"So the proteids and carbohydrates didn't do your epigastric any good, +old chap," remarked Pudfut in an effort to relieve the gloom. +</P> + +<P> +"Proteids, carbohydrates and my epigastric be damned," exploded Joplin. +"On your feet, boys, all of you. Here's to the food of our fathers, +with every man a full plate. And here's to dear old Marny, the human +kangaroo. May his appetite never fail and his paunch never shrink!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="buffum"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +MISS BUFFUM'S NEW BOARDER +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +I +</H4> + +<P> +He was seated near the top end of Miss Buffum's table when I first saw +his good-natured face with its twinkling eyes, high cheekbones and +broad, white forehead in strong contrast to the wizened, almost sour, +visage of our landlady. Up to the time of his coming every one had +avoided that end, or had gradually shifted his seat, gravitating slowly +toward the bottom, where the bank clerk, the college professor and I +hobnobbed over our soup and boiled mutton. +</P> + +<P> +It was his laugh that attracted my attention—the first that had come +from the upper end of the table in the memory of the oldest boarder. +Men talk of the first kiss, the first baby, the first bluebird in the +spring, but to me, who have suffered and know, the first, sincere, +hearty laugh, untrammelled and unlimited, that rings down the +hide-bound table of a dismal boarding-house, carries with it a surprise +and charm that outclasses them all. The effect on this occasion was +like the opening of a window letting in a gust of pure air. Some of the +more sensitive shivered at its freshness, and one woman raised her +eyeglasses in astonishment, but all the rest craned their heads in the +new boarder's direction, their faces expressing their enjoyment. As for +Miss Buffum and the schoolmistress, they so far forgot themselves as to +join audibly in the merriment. +</P> + +<P> +What the secret of the man's power, or why the schoolteacher—who sat +on Miss Buffum's right—should have become suddenly hilarious, or how +Miss Buffum herself could be prodded or beguiled into smiles, no one at +my end of the table could understand; and yet, as the days went by, it +became more and more evident that not only were these two cold, brittle +exteriors being slowly thawed out, but that every one else within the +sound of his seductive voice was yielding to his influence. Stories +that had lain quiet in our minds for months for lack of a willing or +appreciative ear, or had been told behind our hands,—small pipings +most of them of club and social gossip, now became public property, +some being bowled along the table straight at the new boarder, who sent +his own rolling back in exchange, his big, sonorous voice filling the +room as he replied with accounts of his life in Poland among the +peasants; of his experiences in the desert; of a shipwreck off the +coast of Ceylon in which he was given up for lost; of a trip he made +across the Russian steppes in a sleigh—each adventure ending in some +strangely humorous situation which put the table in a roar. +</P> + +<P> +None of these narratives, however, solved the mystery of his identity +or of his occupation. All our good landlady knew was that he had driven +up in a hack one afternoon, bearing a short letter of introduction from +a former lodger—a man who had lived abroad for the previous ten +years—introducing Mr. Norvic Bing; that after its perusal she had +given him the second-story front room, at that moment empty—a fact +that had greatly influenced her—and that he had at once moved in. His +trunks—there were two of them—had, she remembered, been covered with +foreign labels (and still were)—all of which could be verified by any +one who had a right to know and who would take the trouble to inspect +his room when he was out, which occurred every day between ten in the +morning and six in the afternoon, and more often between six in the +afternoon and ten the next morning. The slight additional information +she possessed came from the former lodger's letter, which stated that +the bearer, Mr. Norvic Bing, was a native of Denmark, that he was +visiting America for the first time, and that, desiring a place where +he could live in complete retirement, the writer had recommended Miss +Buffum's house. +</P> + +<P> +As to who he was in his own country—and he certainly must have been +some one of importance, judging from his appearance—and what the +nature of his business, these things did not concern the dear lady in +the least. He was courteous, treated her with marked respect, was +exceedingly agreeable, and had insisted—and this she stated was the +one particular thing that endeared him to her—had insisted on paying +his board a MONTH IN ADVANCE, instead of waiting until the thirty days +had elapsed. His excuse for this unheard-of idiosyncrasy was that he +might some day be suddenly called away, too suddenly even to notify her +of his departure, and that he did not want either his belongings or his +landlady's mind disturbed during his absence. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Buffum's summing up of Bing's courtesy and affability was shared +by every one at my end of the table, although some of them differed as +regarded his origin and occupation. +</P> + +<P> +"Looks more like an Englishman than a Dane," said the bank clerk; +"although I don't know any Danes. But he's a daisy, anyhow, and ought +to have his salary raised for being so jolly." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't agree with you," rejoined the professor. "He is unquestionably +a Scandinavian—you can see that in the high cheekbones and flat nose. +He is evidently studying our people with a view of writing a book. +Nothing else would persuade a man of his parts to live here. I lived in +just such a place the winter I spent in Dresden. You want to get close +to the people when you study their peculiarities. But whoever he is, or +wherever he comes from, he is a most delightful gentleman—perfectly +simple, and so sincere that it is a pleasure to hear him talk." +</P> + +<P> +As for myself, I am ashamed to say that I did not agree with either the +bank clerk or the professor. Although I admitted Mr. Bing's wide +experience of men and affairs, and his marvellous powers of +conversation, I could not divest myself of the conviction that +underneath it all there lay something more than a mere desire to be +either kindly or entertaining; in fact, that his geniality, though +outwardly spontaneous, was really a cloak to hide another side of his +nature—a fog into which he retreated—and that some day the real man +would be revealed. +</P> + +<P> +I made no mention of my misgivings to any of my fellow-boarders. My +knowledge of men of his class—brilliant conversationalists with a +world-wide experience to draw upon—was slight, and my grounds for +doubting his sincerity were so devoid of proof that few persons would +have considered them anything but the product of a disordered mind. +</P> + +<P> +And yet I still held to my opinion. +</P> + +<P> +I had caught something, I fancied, that the others had missed. It +occurred one night after he had told a story and was waiting for the +laugh to subside. Soon a strange, weary expression crept over his +face—the same look that comes into the face of a clown who has been +hurt in a tumble and who, while wrestling with the pain, still keeps +his face a-grin. Suddenly, from out of his merry, smooth-shaven face, +there came a flash from his eyes so searching, so keen, so suspicious, +so entirely unlike the man we knew, so foreign to his mood at the +moment, that I instantly thought of the burglar peering through the +painted spectacles of the family portrait while he watched his +unconscious victim counting his gold. +</P> + +<P> +This conviction so possessed me that I found myself for days after +peering into Bing's face, watching for its repetition—so much so that +the professor asked me with a laugh: +</P> + +<P> +"Has Mr. Bing hypnotized you as badly as he has the ladies? They hang +on his every word. Curious study of the effect of mind on matter, isn't +it?" +</P> + +<P> +The second time I caught the strange flash was BEFORE he had told his +story—when his admonitory glance—his polite way of compelling +attention—was sweeping the table. In its course his eyes rested for an +instant on mine, kindled with suspicion, and then there flashed from +their depths a light that seemed to illuminate every corner of my +brain. When I looked again his face was wreathed in smiles, his eyes +sparkling with merriment. Instantly my doubts returned with redoubled +force. What had he found in that instantaneous flash, I wondered? Had +he read my thoughts, or had he, from his place behind the painted +canvas, caught some expression on some victim's face which had roused +his fears? +</P> + +<P> +Then a delightful thing happened to me. I was but a young fellow trying +to get a foothold in literature, who had never been out of his own +country, and who spoke no tongue but his own; he was a man of the +world, a traveller over the globe and speaking five languages. +</P> + +<P> +"If you're not going out," he said, that same night, "come and have a +smoke with me." This in his heartiest manner, laying his hand on my +shoulder as he spoke. "You'll find me in my room. I've some books that +may interest you, and we can continue our talk by my coal-fire. Come +with me now." +</P> + +<P> +We had had no special talk—none that I could remember. I recalled that +I had asked him an irrelevant question after the flash had vanished, +and that he had answered me in return—but no talk followed. +</P> + +<P> +"I never invite any one up here," he began when we reached his room; +"the place is so small" Here he closed the door, drew up the only +armchair in the room and placed me in it—"but it is large enough for a +place to crawl into and sleep—much larger, I can tell you, than I have +had in many other parts of the world. I can write here, too, without +interruption. What else do we want, really?—To be warm, to be fed and +then to have some congenial spirits about us! I am quite happy, I +assure you, with all those dear, good people downstairs. They are so +kind, and they are so human, and they are all honest, each in his way, +which is always refreshing to me. Most people, you know, are not +honest." And he looked me over curiously. +</P> + +<P> +I made no answer except to nod my assent. My eyes were wandering over +the room in the endeavor to find something to confirm my +suspicions—over the two trunks with their labels; over a desk +littered, piled, crammed with papers; over the mantel, on which was +spread a row of photographs, among them the portrait of a +distinguished-looking woman with a child resting in her lap, and next +to it that of a man in uniform. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—some of my friends across the sea." I had not asked him—he had +read my mind. "This one you did not see—I keep it behind the +others—three of them, like a little pair of steps—all I have left. +The oldest is named Olga, and that little one in the middle, with the +cap on her head—that is Pauline." +</P> + +<P> +"Your children?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Where are they?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, many thousand miles from here! But we won't talk about it. They +are well and happy. And this one"—here he took down the photograph of +the man in full uniform—"is the Grand Duke Vladimir. Yes, a +soldierly-looking man—none of the others are like him. But come now, +tell me of yourself—you have some one at home, too?" +</P> + +<P> +I nodded my head and mentioned my mother and the others at home. +</P> + +<P> +"No sweetheart yet? No?—You needn't answer—we all have sweethearts at +your age—at mine it is all over. But why did you leave her? It is so +hard to do that. Ah, yes, I see—to make your bread. And how do you do +it?" +</P> + +<P> +"I write." +</P> + +<P> +He lowered his brows and looked at me under his lids. +</P> + +<P> +"What sort of writing? Books? What is called a novel?" +</P> + +<P> +"No—not yet. I work on special articles for the newspapers, and now +and then I get a short story or an essay into one of the magazines." +</P> + +<P> +He was replacing the pictures as I talked, his back to me. He turned +suddenly and again sought my eye. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't waste your time on essays or statistics. You will not succeed as +a machine. You have imagination, which is a real gift. You also dream, +which is another way of saying that you can invent. If you can add +construction to your invention, you will come quite close to what they +call genius. I saw all this in your face to-night; that is why I wanted +to talk to you. So many young men go astray for want of a word dropped +into their minds at the right time. As for me, all I know is +statistics, and so I will never be a genius." And a light laugh broke +from his lips. "Worse luck, too. I must exchange them for money. Look +at this—I have been all day correcting the proofs." +</P> + +<P> +With this he walked to his table—he had not yet taken a seat, although +a chair was next to my own—and laid in my lap a roll of galley-proofs. +</P> + +<P> +"It is the new encyclopaedia. I do the biographies, you +see—principally of men and the different towns and countries. I have +got down now to the R's—Richelieu—Rochambeau—" his fingers were now +tracing the lines. "Here is Romulus, and here is Russia—I gave that +half a column, and—dry work, isn't it? But I like it, for I can write +here by my fire if I please, and all my other time is my own. You see +they are signed 'Norvic Bing.' I insisted on that. These publishers are +selfish sometimes, and want to efface a writer's personality, but I +would not permit it, and so finally they gave in. But no more of +that—one must eat, and to eat one must work, so why quarrel with the +spade or the ground? See that you raise good crops—that is the best of +all." +</P> + +<P> +Then he branched off into a description of a ball he had attended some +years before at the Tuileries—of the splendor of the interior; the +rich costumes of the women; the blaze of decorations worn by the men; +the graciousness of the Empress and the charm of her beauty—then of a +visit he had made to the Exile a few months after he had reached +Chiselhurst. Throwing up his hands he said: "A feeble old man with +hollow eyes and a cracked voice. Oh, such a pity! For he was +royal—although all Europe laughed." +</P> + +<P> +When the time came for me to go—it was near midnight, to my +astonishment—he followed me to the door, bidding me good-night with +both hands over mine, saying I should come again when he was at +leisure, as he had been that night—which I promised to do, adding my +thanks for what I declared was the most delightful evening I had ever +spent in my life. +</P> + +<P> +And it had been—and with it there had oozed out of my mind every drop +of my former suspicion. There was another side that he was hiding from +us, but it was the side of tenderness for his children—for those he +loved and from whom he was parted. I had boasted to myself of my +intuition and had looked, as I supposed, deep into his heart, and all I +found were three little faces. With this came a certain feeling of +shame that I had been stupid enough to allow my imagination to run away +with my judgment. Hereafter I would have more sense. +</P> + +<P> +All that winter Bing was the life of the house. The days on which his +seat was empty—off getting statistics for the encyclopaedia, I +explained to my fellow-boarders, I being looked upon now as having +special information owing to my supposed intimacy, although I had never +entered his room since that night—on these days, I say, the table +relapsed into its old-time dullness. +</P> + +<P> +One night I found his card on my pin-cushion. I always locked my door +myself when I left my room—had done so that night, I thought, but I +must have forgotten it. Under his name was written: "Say good-by to the +others." +</P> + +<P> +I concluded, of course, that it was but for a few days and that he +would return as usual, and hold out his two big generous hands to each +one down the table, leaving a warmth behind him which they had not +known since he last pressed their palms—and so on down until he +reached Miss Buffum and the school-teacher, who would both rise in +their seats to welcome him. +</P> + +<P> +With the passing of the first week the good lady became uneasy; the +board, as usual, had been paid in advance, but it was the man she +missed. No one else could add the drop of oil to the machinery of the +house, nor would it run smoothly without him. +</P> + +<P> +At the end of the second week she rapped at my door and with trembling +steps led me to Bing's room. She had opened it with her own pass-key—a +liberty she never allowed any one to take except herself, and never +then unless some emergency arose. It was empty of everything that +belonged to him—had been for days. The room had been set in order and +the bed had been made up by the maid the day he left and had not been +slept in since. Trunks, books, manuscripts, photographs—all were +gone—not a vestige of anything belonging to him was visible. +</P> + +<P> +I stooped down and examined the grate. On the top of the dead coals lay +a little heap of ashes—all that was left of a package of letters. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +II +</H4> + +<P> +Five years passed. Times had changed with me. I had long since left my +humble quarters at Miss Buffum's and now had two rooms in an uptown +apartment-house. My field of work, too, had become enlarged. I had +ceased to write for the Sunday papers and was employed on special +articles for the magazines. This had widened my acquaintance with men +and with life. Heretofore I had known the dark alleys and slums, the +inside of station-houses, bringing me in contact with the police and +with some of the detectives, among them Alcorn of the Central Office, a +man who had sought me out of his own accord. Many of these trusted me +and from them I gathered much of my material. Now I explored other +fields. With the backing of the editor I often claimed seats at the +opening of important conventions—not so much political as social and +scientific; so, too, at many of the public dinners given to our own and +distinguished foreign guests, would a seat be reserved for me, my +object being the study of men when they were off their guard—reading +their minds, finding out the man behind the mask, a habit I had never +yet thrown off. Most men have some mental fad—this was mine. Sometimes +my articles found an echo in a note written to me by the guests +themselves; this would fill me with joy. Often I was criticised for the +absurdity of my views. +</P> + +<P> +On this occasion a great banquet was to be given to Prince Polinski, a +nephew of the Czar and possible heir to the throne. The press had been +filled with the detail of his daily life—of the dinners, teas and +functions given by society in his honor; of his reception by the mayor, +of his audience at the White House; of the men who guarded his person; +of his "opinions," "impressions" and "views" on this, that and the +other thing, but so far no one had dissected the man himself. +</P> + +<P> +What our editor wanted was a minute analysis of the mind of a young +Russian studied at close range. The occasion of the banquet was +selected because I could then examine him at my leisure. The results +were to be used by the editor in an article of his own, my memoranda +being only so much padding. +</P> + +<P> +When I entered and took up a position near the door where I could look +him over, Delmonico's largest reception-room was crowded with guests: +bankers, railroad presidents, politicians, officers of the army and +navy, judges, doctors, and the usual collection of white shirt-fronts +that fill the seats at a public dinner of this kind. The Prince was in +the uniform of an officer of the Imperial Navy. He was heavily built +and tall, with a swarthy face enlivened by a pointed mustache. The +Russian Ambassador at his side was in full dress and wore a number of +decorations: these two needed no pointing out. Some of the others were +less distinguishable-among them a heavily-built man in evening-dress, +with a full beard and mustache which covered his face almost to his +eyes—soft and bushy as the hair on a Spitz dog and as black. With a +leather apron and a broad-axe he would have passed at a masquerade for +an executioner of the olden time. Despite this big beard, there was a +certain bearing about the man—a certain elegance both of manner and +gesture—talking with his hands, accentuating his sentences with +outstretched fingers, lifting his shoulders in a shrug (I saw all this +from across the room where I stood)—that showed clearly not only his +high position, but his breeding. What position he held under the Prince +I was, of course, unaware, but it must have been very close, for the +big Russian kept him constantly at the royal side. I noted, too, that +the Prince was careful to introduce him to many who were brought up to +shake his hand. +</P> + +<P> +When the procession was formed to march into the dining-hall, Polinski +came first on the arm of the mayor; then followed a group of +dignitaries, including the Ambassadors, the black-bearded man walking +by the side of the Prince, who would now and then turn and address him. +</P> + +<P> +My seat was against the wall opposite the dais, and knowing that I +should have scant opportunity to study the Prince's face from where I +sat, I edged my way along the side of the corridor, the crowd making +progress difficult for him, but easy for me, as I crept close to the +wall. When I reached the door opening into the banquet hall I took up a +position just inside the jamb, so that I could get a full view of the +Prince as he passed. +</P> + +<P> +At this instant I became aware that a pair of broad shoulders were +touching mine. Turning quickly, I found myself looking into the face of +the bearded Russian. His eyes were fastened on mine, an inquiring, +rather surprised look on his face, as if he was wondering at the bad +manners of a man who would thrust himself ahead of a royal personage. +For an instant the features were calm and impassive, then as he +continued to look at me there flashed out of his eyes a search-light +glance that shot straight through me. +</P> + +<P> +It was Bing! +</P> + +<P> +Bearded like a Cossack; more heavily built, solemn, dignified, elegant +in carriage and demeanor, with not a trace of jollity about him—but +Bing all the same! I could have sworn to it! +</P> + +<P> +The flash burned for an instant; the eyes behind the canvas dodged +back, then with a graceful wave of the hand he turned to the Ambassador +who was now abreast of him and said in a voice so low that I caught the +words but not the full tone: +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't it a charming sight, your Excellency? There is nothing like the +hospitality of these wonderful Americans." And the two passed into the +brilliantly-lighted hall. +</P> + +<P> +I made my way to my seat and sat thinking it over. That he had +recognized me was without question; that he had ignored me was equally +true—why, I could not tell. +</P> + +<P> +For years I had made him one of my heroes. He had stood for +cheerfulness, for contentment with one's lot, for consideration for +another—and always a weaker brother. When his abrupt departure had +been criticised by my fellow-boarders, I had stemmed the tide against +him, dilating on his love for his children, on his loneliness away from +them; on his simplicity, his common-sense, his desire to help even a +young fellow like me who had no claim upon him. In return he had seen +fit to treat me with contempt—I who would have been so proud to tell +him how his advice had helped me and what progress I had made by +following it. +</P> + +<P> +The incident took such hold upon me that I found myself dissecting his +mentality instead of that of the Great Personage in the public eye. As +I analyzed my feelings I found that he had hurt my heart more than my +pride. I would have been so glad to shake his hand—so glad to rejoice +with him over his changed conditions—once the occupant of a front room +in a cheap boarding-house, supporting himself by filling space in the +columns of an encyclopaedia, and now the bosom friend of Princes and +Ambassadors! +</P> + +<P> +Then a doubt arose in my mind. WAS it Bing? Had I not made a mistake? +How could a smooth-shaven Dane with blond hair transform himself into a +swarthy Russian with the beard of a Cossack? There was, it is true, no +change in the eyes or in the round head—in the whiteness and width of +the forehead, or the breadth of the shoulders. All these I went over +one by one as I watched him every now and then lean across the table +and speak to some of the distinguished guests that surrounded him. The +thing which puzzled me was his grave, sedate demeanor, dignified, +almost austere at times. A man, I thought, might grow a beard and dye +it, but how could he grow a different set of manners, how smother his +jollity, how wipe out his spontaneous buoyancy? +</P> + +<P> +No, it was not Bing! It was only my stupid self. I was always ready to +find the mysterious and unnatural. I turned to the guest next me. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know who that man is on the dais," I asked; "the one all black +and white, with the big beard?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, one of the Prince's suite; some jaw-breaking name with an +'-usski' on the end of it. He brought him with him; looks like a bull +pup chewing a muff, doesn't he?" +</P> + +<P> +I smiled at the comparison, but I was still in doubt. +</P> + +<P> +When the banquet broke up I hurried out ahead of the others and posted +myself at the top of the staircase leading down to the side door of the +street. The Prince's carriage—an ordinary cab—was ordered to this +door to escape the crowd and to avoid any delay. This I learned from my +old friend Alcorn of the Central Office, who was in charge of the +detectives at the dinner, and who in answer to my request said: +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly I'll let you through. Come alone, and don't speak to me as +you go by. I'll say you're one of us. The crowd thinks he's going out +by the other door, and you can get pretty close to him." +</P> + +<P> +The Prince came first, wrapped in furs—the black-bearded Russian at +his side in overcoat, silk hat and white gloves. The Ambassador and the +others had bidden them good-night at the top of the staircase. +</P> + +<P> +Under Alcorn's direction I had placed myself just inside the street +door where I could slip out behind the Prince and his black-bearded +companion. As a last resort I determined to walk straight up to him and +say: "You haven't forgotten me, Mr. Bing, have you?" If I had changed +so as to need proof of my identity Alcorn would furnish it. Whatever +his answer, his voice would solve my mystery. +</P> + +<P> +He walked down the stairs with an easy, swinging movement, keeping a +little behind the Prince; waited until Alcorn had opened the street +door and with a nod of thanks followed Polinski out into the night. +Once outside I shrank back into the shadow of the doorway and held my +breath to catch his first spoken word—to the coachman—to the +Prince—to any one who came in his way. +</P> + +<P> +At this moment a man in a slouch hat and poorly dressed, a light cane +under his arm, evidently a tramp, hurried across the street to hold the +cab door. I edged nearer, straining my ears. +</P> + +<P> +The Prince bent his head and stooped to enter the cab. The tramp leaned +forward, shot up his right arm; there came a flash of steel, and the +next instant the tramp lay writhing on the sidewalk, one hand twisted +under his back, the other held in the viselike grip of the +black-bearded man. Alcorn rushed past me, threw himself on the +prostrate tramp, slipped a pair of handcuffs over his wrists, dragged +him to his feet, and with one hand on his throat backed him into the +shadow of the side door. +</P> + +<P> +The Prince smiled and stepped into his carriage. The black-bearded man +dusted his white gloves one on the other, gave an order in a low tone +to the coachman, took his place beside his companion and the two drove +off. +</P> + +<P> +I stood out in the rain and tried to pull myself together. The rapidity +of the attack; the poise and strength of the black-bearded Russian; the +quickness with which Alcorn had risen to the occasion; the absence of +all outcry or noise of any kind—no one but ourselves witnessing the +occurrence—had taken my breath away. That an attack had been made on +the life of the Prince, and that it had been frustrated by his friend, +was evident. It was also evident that accosting a Prince on the +sidewalk at night without previous acquaintance was a dangerous +experiment. When I recovered my wits both Alcorn and the would-be +assassin had disappeared. So had the cab. +</P> + +<P> +Only two morning journals had an account of the affair; one dismissed +it with a fling at the police for not protecting our guests from +annoyance, and the other stated that a drunken tramp had demanded the +price of a night's lodging from the Prince as he was leaving +Delmonico's, and that a member of the Prince's suite had held the +fellow until a policeman came along and took him to the station-house. +Not a word of the murderous lunge, the flash of steel, the viselike +grip of the black-bearded man or the click of the handcuffs. +</P> + +<P> +That night I found Alcorn. +</P> + +<P> +"Did that fellow try to stab the Prince?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"With a knife?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, a sword cane." +</P> + +<P> +"The papers didn't say so." +</P> + +<P> +"No, I didn't intend they should. Wouldn't have been pleasant reading +for his folks in St. Petersburg. Besides, we haven't rounded up his +gang yet." +</P> + +<P> +"The Prince didn't seem to lose his nerve?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"No, he isn't built that way." +</P> + +<P> +"You know him, then?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—been with him every day since he arrived." +</P> + +<P> +"Who is the black-bearded man with him?" +</P> + +<P> +"He is his intimate friend, Count Lovusski. Been all over the world +together." +</P> + +<P> +"Is Lovusski his ONLY name?" This seemed to be my chance. +</P> + +<P> +Alcorn turned quickly and looked into my face. +</P> + +<P> +"On the dead quiet, is it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Alcorn, you can trust me." +</P> + +<P> +"No—he's got half a dozen of 'em. In Paris in '70 he was Baron +Germunde with estates in Hungary. Lived like a fighting-cock; knew +everybody at the Palace and everybody knew him—stayed there all +through the Franco-Prussian War. In London in '75 he was plain Mr. +Loring, trying to raise money for a mine somewhere in Portugal—knew +nobody but stockbrokers and bank presidents. In New York five years ago +he was Mr. Norvic Bing, and worked on some kind of a dictionary; lived +in a boarding-house on Union Square." +</P> + +<P> +I could not conceal my delight. +</P> + +<P> +"I knew I was right!" I cried, laying my hand on his arm. "I lived with +him there a whole winter." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, he told me so. That's why I am telling you the rest of it." +Alcorn was smiling, a curious expression lighting his face. +</P> + +<P> +"And how came he to be such a friend of the Prince's?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"He isn't his friend—isn't anybody's friend. He's a special agent of +the Russian Secret Service." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="susieann"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CAPTAIN JOE AND THE SUSIE ANN +</H3> + +<P> +Wide of beam, stout of mast, short-bowspritted, her boom clewed up to +clear her deck load of rough stone; drawing ten feet aft and nine feet +for'ard; a twelve-horse hoisting engine and boiler in her forecastle; +at the tiller a wabbly-jointed, halibut-shaped, moon-faced (partially +eclipsed, owing to a fringe of dark whiskers), sleepy-eyed skipper +named Baxter,—such was the sloop Susie Ann, and her outfit and her +commander, as she lay alongside the dock in New London Harbor, ready to +discharge her cargo at the site of Shark Ledge Lighthouse, eight miles +seaward. +</P> + +<P> +On the dock itself, over a wharf post sprawled her owner, old Abram +Marrows, a thin, long, badly put together man, awkward as a stepladder +and as rickety, who, after trying everything from farming to selling a +patent churn, had at last become a shipowner, the Susie Ann, comprising +his entire fleet. Marrows had come to see her off; this being the +sloop's first trip for the season. +</P> + +<P> +Lying outside the Susie Ann—her lines fast to an off-shore spile, was +the construction tug of the lighthouse gang, the deck strewn with +diving gear, water casks and the like,—all needed in the furthering of +the work at the ledge. On the tug's forward deck, hat off and jacket +swinging loose, stood Captain Joe Bell in charge of the submarine work +at the site, glorious old Captain Joe, with the body of a capstan, legs +stiff as wharf posts, arms and hands tough as cant hooks and heart +twice as big as all of them put together. +</P> + +<P> +Each and every piece of stone,—some of them weighed seven +tons,—stowed aboard the Susie Ann, was, when she arrived alongside the +foundation of the lighthouse, to be lowered over her side and sent down +to Captain Joe to place in thirty feet of water. This fact made him +particular both as to the kind of vessel engaged and the ability of the +skipper. Bad seamanship might not only endanger the security of the +work but his own life as well,—a diver not being as quick as a crab or +blackfish in getting from under a seven-ton stone dropped from tripdogs +at the signal to "lower away." +</P> + +<P> +Captain Joe's inspection of the Susie Ann's skipper was anything but +satisfactory, judging from the way he opened his battery of protest. +</P> + +<P> +"Baxter ain't fittin', I tell ye, Abram Marrows," he exploded. "He +ain't fittin' and never will be. Baxter don't know most nothin'. Set +him to grubbin' clams, Abram, but don't let him fool 'round the Ledge. +He'll git the sloop ashore, I tell ye, or drop a stone and hurt +somebody. Go and git a MAN som'ers and put him in charge,—not a +half-baked—" here he lowered his muzzle and fired point-blank at the +object of his wrath,—"Yes, and I'll say it to your face, Captain +Baxter. You take my advice and lay off for this v'yage,—it ain't no +picnic out to the Ledge. You ain't seen it since we got the stone 'bove +high water. Reg'lar mill tail! You go ashore, I tell ye,—or ye'll lose +the sloop." +</P> + +<P> +Many of the men ranged along the top of the cabin of the tug, or +perched on its rail, wondered at the vehemence of the captain's attack, +"Moon-faced Baxter," as he was called, having a fair reputation as a +seaman. They knew, too, that Captain Joe was aware of the condition of +Marrows's affairs, for it had been common talk that the bank had loaned +Abram several hundred dollars with the sloop as security on the +captain's own personal inspection. Some of them had even been present +when Mrs. Marrows,—a faded old woman with bleached eyes and a +pursed-up mouth, her shawl hooding her head and pinned close under her +chin with her thumb and forefinger,—had begged Captain Joe to try the +Susie Ann for a few loads until Abram could "ketch up," and had heard +his promise to help her. +</P> + +<P> +But they made no protest. Such outbursts on the captain's part were but +the escaping steam from the overcharged boiler of his indignation. +Underneath lay the firebox of his heart, chock full of red-hot coals +glowing with sympathy for every soul who needed his help. If his safety +valve let go once in a while it was to escape from greater danger. +</P> + +<P> +His long range ammunition exhausted, Captain Joe turned on his heel and +walked aft to where his diving gear was piled, venting his indignation +at every step. This time the outburst was directed to me,—(it was my +weekly inspection at the Ledge). +</P> + +<P> +"Can't jam nothin' into his head, sir. Stubbornest mule 'round this +harbor. Warn't for that wife o' his Abe Marrows would a-been high and +dry long ago. Every time he gits something purty good he goes and fools +it away;—sold his farm and bought that sloop; then he clapped a +plaster on it in the bank to start a cook shop. But the wife's all +right;—only last week she come to me lookin' like she'd bu'st out +cryin',—sayin' the sloop was all they had, and I promised her then I'd +use the Susie, but she never said nothin' 'bout Baxter being in charge, +or I'd stopped him 'fore he loaded her. Well, there ain't no tellin' +what nat'ral born fools like Abe Marrows'll do, but it's something +ornery and criss-cross if Abe Marrows does it. That woman's worked her +fingers off for him, but he'll git her in the poor-house yit,—see if +he don't." +</P> + +<P> +Marrows had heard every word of Captain Joe's outburst, but he made no +answer except to lift his thin elbows and spread his fingers in a +deprecatory way, as if in protest. Baxter maintained a dogged +silence;—the least said in answer the better. Captain Joe Bell was not +a man either to contradict or oppose;—better let him blow it all out. +Both owner and skipper determined to take the risk. The Susie Ann had +been laid up all winter awaiting the opening of the spring work, and +the successful carrying out of the present venture was Marrows's only +escape from financial ruin, and Baxter's only chance of getting his +back wages. There was an unpaid bill, too, for caulking, then a year +old, lying in Abram's bureau drawer, together with an account at Mike +Lavin's machine shop for a new set of grate bars, now almost worn out. +Worse than all the bank's lien on the sloop was due in a few weeks. +What money the sloop earned, therefore, must be earned quickly. +</P> + +<P> +And then again, Abram ruminated, Shark Ledge wasn't the worst place on +the coast,—despite Captain Joe's warning,—especially on this +particular morning, when a light wind was blowing off shore. Plenty of +other sloops had delivered stone over their rails to the divers below. +Marrows remembered that he had been out to the Ledge himself when the +Screamer came up into the wind and crawled slowly up until her forefoot +was within a biscuit toss of the stone pile. +</P> + +<P> +What Marrows forgot was that Captain Bob Brandt of Cape Ann had then +held the spokes of the Screamer's wheel,—a man who knew every twist +and turn of the treacherous tide. +</P> + +<P> +So Baxter shook out the sloop's jib and mainsail and started on his +journey eight miles seaward, with orders to make fast on arrival to the +spar buoy which lay within a few hundred yards of the Ledge, and there +wait until the tide turned, when she could drop into position to +unload. The tug with all of us on board would follow when we had taken +on fresh water and coal. +</P> + +<P> +On the run out Captain Joe watched the sloop until she had made her +first tack, then he turned to his work and again busied himself in +overhauling his diving dress; tightening the set-screws in his copper +collar, re-cording his breastplate and putting new leather thongs in +his leaden shoes. There was some stone on the sloop's deck which was +needed to complete a level down among the black fish and torn +cod,—twenty-two feet down,—where the sea kelp streamed up in long +blades above the top of his helmet and the rock crabs scurried out of +his way. If Baxter didn't make a "tarnel fool of himself and git into +one o' them swirl-holes," he intended to get these stones into place +before night. +</P> + +<P> +He knew these "holes," as he did every other swirl around the ledge and +what they could do and what they couldn't. They were his swirls, +really,—for he had placed every individual fragment of the +obstructions that caused them with his own hands, in thirty feet of +water. +</P> + +<P> +Some three years before the site had been marked by a spindle bearing +an iron cage and fastened to a huge boulder known as Shark Ledge Rock, +and covered at low water. The unloading of various sloops and schooners +under his orders had enlarged this submerged rock to a miniature +island, its ragged crest thrust above the sea. This obstruction to the +will of the wind and tide, and the ever-present six-mile current, +caused by the narrowing of Long Island Sound in its onrush to the sea, +acted as a fallen log that blocks a mountain stream, or a boulder that +plugs a torrent. That which for centuries had been a steady "set" every +six hours east and west, had now become a "back-and-in suck" fringed by +a series of swirling undercurrents dealing death and destruction to the +ignorant and unwary. +</P> + +<P> +Not been long since a schooner loaded with concrete had been saved from +destruction by the merest chance, and later on a big scow caught in the +swirl had parted her buoy lines and would have landed high and dry on +the stone pile had not Captain Joe run a hawser to her, twisted its +bight around the drum of his engine and warped her off just in time to +save her bones from sea worms. +</P> + +<P> +As the tug approached, the Ledge, looming up on the dim horizon line, +looked like a huge whale spouting derricks, a barnacle of a shanty +clinging to its back. Soon there rose into relief the little knot of +men gathered about one of the whale's fins—our landing stage,—and +then, as we came alongside, the welcome curl of the smoke, telling of +fried pork and saleratus biscuit. +</P> + +<P> +Captain Joe's orders now came thick and fast. +</P> + +<P> +"Hurry dinner, Nichols,"—this to the shanty cook, who was leaning out +of the galley window,—"And here,—three or four o' ye, git this divin' +stuff ashore, and then all hands to dinner. The wind's ag'in +Baxter,—he won't git here for an hour. Startin' on one o' them long +legs o' his'n now,"—and the captain's eye rested on the sloop beating +up Fisher's Island way. +</P> + +<P> +"And, Billy,—'fore ye go ashore, jump into the yawl and take a look at +that snatch block on the spar buoy,—that clam digger may want it 'fore +night." +</P> + +<P> +This spar buoy lay a few hundred yards off the Whale's Snout. Loaded +vessels were moored to this quill bob, held in place by a five-ton +sinker, until they were ready to drop into the eddy and there discharge +their stone. +</P> + +<P> +Dinner over the men fell to work, each to his job. The derrick gang was +set to shifting a boom on to the larger derrick, the concrete mixers +picked up their shovels, and I went to work on the pay-roll of the +week. This I always figured up in the little dry-goods box of a room +opening out of the galley in the end of our board shanty, its window +looking toward Montauk. +</P> + +<P> +As I leaned my arms on the sill for a glimpse of the wide expanse of +blue and silver, the cotton rag that served as a curtain flapped in my +face. I pushed it aside and craned my neck north and south. The curtain +had acted as a weather vane,—the wind had hauled to the east. +</P> + +<P> +The sky, too, had dulled. Little lumpy clouds showed near the horizon +line, and, sailing above these, hung a dirt spot of vapor, while aloft +glowed some prismatic sundogs, shimmering like opals. Etched against +the distance, with a tether line fastened to the spar buoy, lay the +Susie Ann. She had that moment arrived and had made fast. Her sails +were furled, her boom swinging loose and ready, the smoke from her +hoister curling from the end of her smoke pipe thrust up out of the +forward hatch. +</P> + +<P> +Then I looked closer in. +</P> + +<P> +Below me, on the concrete platform, rested our big air pump, and beside +it stood Captain Joe. He had slipped into his diving dress and was at +the moment adjusting the breastplates of lead, weighing twenty-five +pounds each, to his chest and back. His leaden shoes were already on +his feet. With the exception of his copper helmet, the signal line +around his wrist, and the life line about his waist, he was ready to go +under water. +</P> + +<P> +Pretty soon he would don his helmet, and, with a last word to Jimmy, +his tender, would tuck his chin whisker inside the round opening, wait +until the face plate was screwed on, and then, with a cheerful nod +behind the glass, denoting that his air was coming all right, would +step down his rude ladder into the sea,—down,—down,—down to his +place among the crabs and the seaweed. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly my ears became conscious of a conversation carried on in a low +tone around the corner of the shanty. +</P> + +<P> +"Old Moon-face'll have to git up and git in a minute," said a derrick +man to a shoveller,—born sailors, these,—"there'll be a red-hot time +'round here 'fore night." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, there ain't no wind." +</P> + +<P> +"Ain't no wind,—ain't there? See that bobble waltzin' in?" +</P> + +<P> +I looked seaward, and my eyes rested on a ragged line of silver edging +the horizon toward Montauk. +</P> + +<P> +"Does look soapy, don't it?" answered the shoveller. "Wonder if Cap'n +Joe sees it." +</P> + +<P> +Cap'n Joe had seen it—fifteen minutes ahead of anybody else,—had been +watching it to the exclusion of any other object. He knew the +sea,—knew every move of the merciless, cunning beast; had watched it +many a time, lying in wait for its chance to tear and strangle. More +than once had he held on to the rigging when, with a lash of its tail, +it had swept a deck clean, or had stuck to the pumps for days while it +sucked through opening seams the life-blood of his helpless craft. The +game here would be to lift its victim on the back of a smooth +under-roller and with mighty effort hurl it like a battering ram +against the shore rocks, shattering its timbers into drift wood. +</P> + +<P> +"Billy," said Captain Joe to the shoveller, "go down to the edge of the +stone pile and holler to the sloop to cast off and make for home. +Hurry, now! And, Jimmy,"—this to his pump tender,—"unhook this +breastplate,—there won't be no divin', today. I've been mistrustin' +the wind would haul ever since I got up this mornin'." +</P> + +<P> +The shoveller sprang from the platform and began clambering over the +slippery, slimy rocks like a crab, his red shirt marked with the white +"X" of his suspenders in relief against the blue water. When he reached +the outermost edge of the stone pile, where the ten-ton blocks lay, he +made a megaphone of his fingers and repeated the captain's orders to +the Susie Ann. +</P> + +<P> +Baxter listened with his hands cupped to his ears. +</P> + +<P> +"Who says so?" came back the reply. +</P> + +<P> +"Cap'n Joe." +</P> + +<P> +"What fur?" +</P> + +<P> +"Goin' to blow,—don't ye see it?" +</P> + +<P> +Baxter stepped gingerly along the sloop's rail. Obeying the order meant +twenty-four hour's delay in making sure of his wages,—perhaps a week, +spring weather being uncertain. He didn't "see no blow." Besides, if +there was one coming, it wasn't his sloop or his stone. When he reached +the foot of the bowsprit Moon-face sent this answer over the water: +</P> + +<P> +"Let her blow and be d—! This sloop's chartered to deliver this stone. +We've got steam up and the stuff's goin' over outside. Get your divers +ready. I ain't shovin' no baby carriage and don't you forgit it. I'm +comin' on! Cast off that buoy line, you,"—this to one of his men. +</P> + +<P> +Captain Joe continued stripping off his leaden breastplate. He had +heard his order repeated and knew that it had been given +correctly,—Baxter's subsequent proceedings did not interest him. If he +had anything to say in answer it was of no moment to him. His word was +law on the Ledge; first, because the men daily trusted their lives to +his guidance, and, second, because they all loved him with a love hard +for a landsman to understand, especially today, when the boss and the +gang never, by any possibility, pull together. +</P> + +<P> +"Baxter says he's comin' on, sir," said Billy, when he reached the +captain's side, the grin on his sunburnt face widening until its two +ends hooked over his ears. Billy had heard nothing so funny for weeks. +</P> + +<P> +"Comin' on?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's what he hollered. Wants you to git ready to take his stuff, +sir." +</P> + +<P> +I was out of the shanty now. I came in two jumps. With that squall +rushing from the eastward and the tide making flood, any man who would +leave the protection of the spar buoy for the purpose of unloading was +fit for a lunatic asylum. +</P> + +<P> +Captain Joe had straightened up and was screening his eyes with his +hand when I reached his side, his gaze rivetted on the loosened sloop, +which had now hauled in her tether line and was drifting clear of the +buoy. The captain was still incredulous. +</P> + +<P> +"No, he ain't comin'," he said to me. "He's all right,—he'll port his +helm in a minute,—but he'd better send up his jib"—and he swept his +eye around,—"and that quick, too." +</P> + +<P> +At this instant the sloop wavered and lurched heavily. The outer edge +of the insuck had caught her bow. +</P> + +<P> +Men's minds work quickly in times of great danger,—minds like Captain +Joe's. In a flash he had taken in the fast-approaching roller, +froth-capped by the sudden squall; the surging vessel and the scared +face of Baxter, who, having realized his mistake was now clutching +wildly at the tiller and shouting orders to his men, none of which +could be carried out. Captain Joe knew what would happen,—what had +happened before, and what would happen again with fools like +Baxter,—now,—in a minute,—before he could reach the edge of the +stone pile, hampered as he was in a rubber suit that bound his arms and +tied his great legs together. And he understood too the sea's game, and +that the only way to outwit it would be to use the beast's own tactics. +When it gathered itself for the thrust and started in to hurl the +doomed vessel the full length of its mighty arms, the sloop's only +safety lay in widening the space. A cushion of backwater would then +receive the sloop's forefoot in place of the snarling teeth of low +crunching rocks. +</P> + +<P> +He had kicked off both shoes by this time and was shouting out +directions to Baxter, who was slowly and surely being sucked into the +swirl:— +</P> + +<P> +"Up with your jib! No,—NO! Let that mainsail alone! UP! Do ye want to +git her on the stone pile, you? Port your helm! PORT! O GOD!—Look at +him!!" +</P> + +<P> +Captain Joe had slid from the platform now and was flopping his great +body over the slimy, slippery rocks like a seal, falling into water +holes every other step, crawling out on his belly, rolling from one +slanting stone to another, shouting to his men, every time he had the +breath:— +</P> + +<P> +"Man that yawl and run a line as quick as God'll let ye—out to the +buoy! Do ye hear? Pull that fall off the drum of the h'ister and git +the end of a line on it! She'll be on top of us in a minute and the +mast out of her! QUICK!" +</P> + +<P> +Jimmy sprang for a coil of rope; Billy and the others threw themselves +after him; while half a dozen men working around the small eddy in the +lee of the diminutive island caught up the oars and made a dash for the +yawl. +</P> + +<P> +All this time the sloop, under the uplift of the first big Montauk +roller,—the skirmish line of the attack,—surged, bow on, to +destruction. Baxter, although shaking with fear, had sense enough left +to keep her nose pointed to the stone pile. The mast might come out of +her, but that was better than being gashed amidships and sunk in thirty +feet of water. +</P> + +<P> +Captain Joe, his rubber suit wet and glistening as a shiny porpoise, +his hair matted to his head, had now reached the outermost rock +opposite the doomed craft, and stood near enough to catch every +expression that crossed Baxter's face, who, white as chalk, was holding +the tiller with all his strength, cap off, his blousy hair flying in +the increasing gale, his mouth tight shut. Go ashore she must. It would +be every man for himself then. No help would come,—no help COULD come. +Captain Joe and his men would run for shelter as soon as the blow fell, +and leave them to their fate. Men like Baxter are built to think this +way. +</P> + +<P> +All these minutes—seconds, really,—Captain Joe stood bending forward, +watching where the sloop would strike, his hands outstretched in the +attitude of a ball-player awaiting a ball. If her nose should hit the +sharp, square edges of one of the ten-ton blocks, God help her! She +would split wide open like a melon. If by any chance her forefoot +should be thrust into one of the many gaps between the enrockment +blocks,—spaces from two to three feet wide,—and her bow timbers thus +take the shock, there was a living chance to save her. +</P> + +<P> +A cry from Baxter, who had dropped the tiller and was scrambling over +the stone-covered deck to the bowsprit, reached the captain's ears, but +he never altered his position. What he was to do must be done surely. +Baxter didn't count,—wasn't in the back of his head. There were plenty +of willing hands to pick up Baxter and his men. +</P> + +<P> +Then a thing happened which, if I had not seen it, I would never have +believed possible. The water cushion of the outsuck helped,—so did the +huge roller which, in its blind rage, had underestimated the distance +between its lift and the wide-open jaws of the rock,—as a maddened +bull often underestimates the length of its thrust, its horns falling +short of the matador. +</P> + +<P> +Whatever the cause, Captain Joe watched his chance, sprang to the +outermost rock, and, bracing his great snubbing posts of legs against +its edge, reversed his body, caught the wavering sloop on his broad +shoulders, close under her bowsprit chains, and pushed back with all +his might. +</P> + +<P> +Then began a struggle between the strength of the man and the lunge of +the sea. With every succeeding onslaught, and before the savage roller +could fully lift the staggering craft to hurl her to destruction, +Captain Joe, with the help of the outsuck, would shove her back from +the waiting rocks. This was repeated again and again,—the men in the +rescuing yawl meanwhile bending every muscle to carry out the captain's +commands. +</P> + +<P> +Sometimes his head was free enough to shout his orders, and sometimes +both man and bow were smothered in suds. +</P> + +<P> +"Keep that fall clear!" would come his order "Stand ready to catch the +yawl! Shut that—" here a souse would stop his breath,—"shut that +furnace door! Do ye want the steam out of the b'iler?"—etc., etc. +</P> + +<P> +That the slightest misstep on the slimy rocks on which his feet were +braced meant sending him under the sloop's bow where he would be caught +between her forefoot and the rocks and ground into pulp concerned him +as little as did the fact that Baxter and his men had crawled along the +bowsprit over his head and had dropped to the island without wetting +their shoes. That his diving suit was full of water and he soaking wet +to the skin, made not the slightest difference to him—no more than it +would to a Newfoundland dog saving a child. His thoughts were on other +things,—on the rescuing yawl speeding toward the spar buoy, on the +stout hands and knowing ones who were pulling for all they were worth +to that anchor of safety;—on two of his own men who, seeing Baxter's +cowardly desertion, had sprung like cats at the bowsprit of the sloop +in one of her dives, and were then on the stern ready to pay out a line +to the yawl when she reached the goal. No,—he'd hold on "till hell +froze over." +</P> + +<P> +A hawser now ripped itself clear from out the crest of a roller. This +meant that the two cats, despite the increasing gale and thrash of the +onrushing sea had succeeded in paying out a stern line to the men in +the yawl, who had slipped it through the snatch block fastened in the +buoy. It meant, too, that this line had been connected with the line +they had brought with them from the island, its far end being around +the drum of our hoister. +</P> + +<P> +A shrill cry now came from one of the crew in the yawl alongside the +spar buoy, followed instantly by the clear, ringing order, "GO AHEAD!" +</P> + +<P> +Now a burst of feathery steam plumed skyward, and then the slow +"chuggity-chug" of our drum cogs rose in the air. The stern line +straightened until it was as rigid as a bar of iron, sagged for an +instant under the slump of the staggering sloop, straightened again, +and remained rigid. The sloop, held by the stern line, crept slowly +back to safety. +</P> + +<P> +Captain Joe looked over his shoulder, noted the widening distance, and +leaped back to the inshore rocks. +</P> + +<P> +Late that afternoon, when the tug, with Captain Joe and me on board, +reached the tug's moorings in New London harbor, the dock was crowded +with anxious faces,—Abram Marrows and his wife among them. It had been +an anxious day along the shore road. The squall, which had blown for +half an hour and had then slunk away toward Little Gull, grumbling as +it went, had sent everything that could seek shelter bowling into New +London Harbor under close reefs. It had also started Marrows and his +wife on a run to the dock, where they had stood for hours straining +their eyes seaward, each incoming vessel, as she swooped past the dock +into the inner basin, adding to their anxiety. +</P> + +<P> +"Wouldn't give a keg o' sp'ilt fish for her. Ain't a livin' chance o' +savin' her," had bellowed the captain of a fishing smack, as he swept +by, within biscuit-toss of the dock, his boom submerged, the water +curling over the rail. +</P> + +<P> +"She went slap ag'in them chunks o' cut stone!" shouted the mate of a +tug through the window of a pilot house. +</P> + +<P> +"Got her off with her bow split open, but they can't keep her free! +Sunk by now, I guess," had yelled one of the crew of a dory making for +the shipyard. +</P> + +<P> +As each bulletin was shouted back over the water in answer to the +anxious inquiries of Marrows, the wife would clasp her fingers the +tighter. She made no moan or outburst. Abram would blame her and say it +was her fault,—everything was her fault that went wrong. +</P> + +<P> +When the tug had made fast to a wharf spile Captain Joe cleared the +stringpiece, and walked straight to Marrows. He was still soaking wet +underneath his clothes, only his outer garments being dry,—a condition +which never affected him in the least, "salt water bein' healthy," he +would say. +</P> + +<P> +"What did I tell ye, Abram Marrows?" he exploded, in a voice that could +be heard to the turnpike. "Didn't I say Baxter warn't fittin', and that +he ought ter be grubbin' clams? Go and dig a hole some'er's and cover +him up head and ears,—and dig it quick, too, and I'll lend ye a +shovel." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, but, Captain Joe,"—protested Marrows. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you 'well' me. Well, nothin'. You're bad as him. Go and dig a +hole and BOTH on ye git in it!"—and he pushed through the crowd on his +way to his house, I close at his heels. +</P> + +<P> +The wife, who but that moment had heard the glad news of the rescue +from the lips of a deck hand, now hurried after the captain and laid +her hand on his arm. Her eyes were red from weeping; strands of gray +hair strayed over her forehead and cheeks; her lips were tightly drawn; +the anxiety of the last few hours had left its mark. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't go, Captain Joe, till I kin speak to ye," she pleaded, in a +trembling voice,—speaking through fingers pressed close to her lips. +</P> + +<P> +"No,—I don't want to hear nothin'. She's all right, I tell +ye,—tighter 'n a drum and not a drop of water in her. Got some of my +men aboard and we'll unload her to-morrow. You go home, old woman; you +needn't worry." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, but you must listen,—PLEASE listen." +</P> + +<P> +She had followed him up the dock and the two stood apart from the crowd. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, what is it?" +</P> + +<P> +"I want to thank ye,—and I want—" +</P> + +<P> +"No, you don't want to thank nothin'. She's all right, I tell ye." +</P> + +<P> +She had tight hold of his arm now and was looking up into his face, all +her gratitude in her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"But I do,—I must,—please listen. You've helped us so. It's all we +have. If we'd lost the sloop I'd 'a' give up." +</P> + +<P> +The captain's rough, hard hand went out and caught the woman's thin +fingers. A peculiar cadence came into his voice. +</P> + +<P> +"All ye have? Do you think I don't know it? That's why I was under her +bowsprit." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="orders"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +"AGAINST ORDERS" +</H3> + +<P> +"Here comes Captain Bogart—we'll ask him," said the talkative man. +</P> + +<P> +His listeners were grouped about one of the small tables in the +smoking-room of the Moldavia, five days out. The question was when the +master of a vessel should leave his ship. In the incident discussed +every man had gone ashore—even the life-saving crew had given her up: +the master had stuck to his post. +</P> + +<P> +The captain listened gravely. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—if there's one chance in a thousand of saving her. Regulations +are pretty plain; can't forget 'em unless you want to," and he walked +on. +</P> + +<P> +That night at dinner I received a message to come to the captain's +cabin. He had some coffee that an old Brazilian had sent him. His +steward hailed from Rio, and knew how to grind and boil it. +</P> + +<P> +Over the making the talk veered to the inquiry in the smoking-room. +</P> + +<P> +"When ought a commander to abandon his ship, Captain?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"When his passengers need him. Passengers first, ship next, are the +orders. They're clear and exact—can't mistake 'em." +</P> + +<P> +"You speak as if you had had some experience." A leaf from out the +note-book of a live man doing live things is as refreshing as a bucket +of cool water from a deep well. +</P> + +<P> +"Experience! Been forty years at sea." +</P> + +<P> +"Some of them pretty exciting, I suppose." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. Half a dozen of 'em." +</P> + +<P> +He emptied his cup, rose from his seat, and pushing back his chair, +began pacing the floor, stepping into the connecting chart-room, +bending for an instant over the map, and stepping back again, peering +through the small window a-grime with the spray of a north-easter. +</P> + +<P> +My question, I could see, had either revived some unpleasant memory or +the anxiety due to the sudden shift of wind—it had been blowing +south-west all day—had made him restless. +</P> + +<P> +As my eyes followed his movements I began to realize the enormous size +of the man. Walking the deck, head up, body erect, his broad shoulders +pulled back, his round, solid girth tightly confined in his simple +uniform, he looked the brawny, dominant, forceful commander that he +was—big among the biggest passengers. Here, pacing the small cabin, +his head almost touching the ceiling, his great frame filled the small +narrow room as an elephant would fill a boudoir. Everything seemed too +small for him—the table, even the chair which he had now regained, the +tiny egg-shell cup which he was still grasping. +</P> + +<P> +Looking closer—his head in full profile against the glow of the +electric light—I caught the straight line of the ruddy, seamed neck—a +bull's neck in strength, a Greek athlete's in refinement of +line—sweeping up into the close-cropped, iron-gray hair. Then came the +round of the head; the massive forehead, strong, straight nose; thin, +compressed lips, moulded thin and kept compressed by a life of +determined effort; square-cut chin and the iron jaw that held the lips +and chin in place. +</P> + +<P> +When he rose to his feet again I had another surprise. To my +astonishment he was not a Colossus at all—not in pounds and inches. On +the contrary, he was but little above the average size. What had +impressed me had not been his bulk, but his reserve force. Tigers +stretched out in cages produce this effect; so do powerful machines +that dig, crunch, or pound—dormant until their life-steam sets them +going. +</P> + +<P> +The gale increased in violence. We got now the lift of the steamer's +bow, staggering under tons of water, and the whir of the screw in +mid-air. The captain glanced at the barometer, drew his body to its +full height, reached for his storm-coat, slipped it on, and was about +to swing back the door opening on the deck, when the chirp of a canary +rang through the room. At the sound he turned quickly and walked back +to where the cage hung. +</P> + +<P> +"Ho, little man!" he cried in the same tone of voice in which he would +have addressed a child; "woke you up, did we? Sorry, old fellow; tuck +your head down again and take another nap." +</P> + +<P> +The bird stretched out its bill, fluttered its wings, pecked at the +captain's outstretched finger, and burst into song. +</P> + +<P> +"Yours, captain?" I had not noticed the bird before. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; had him for years." +</P> + +<P> +Instantly the absurdity of the companionship broke upon me. What +possible comfort, I thought, could a man like the captain take in so +tiny a creature? It was the lion and the mouse over again—the eagle +and the tom-tit—the bear and the rabbit. He must have noticed my +surprise and amusement, for he added with a smile: +</P> + +<P> +"Must have something. Gets pretty lonesome sometimes when you have no +wife nor children, and there are none anywheres for me." He had +withdrawn his fingers now, and was buttoning his coat close about his +broad chest, his eyes still on the bird that was splitting its little +throat in a burst of song. +</P> + +<P> +"But he's so small," I laughed. "I should think you'd have a dog—seems +nearer your size." +</P> + +<P> +I once saw a man struck by a spent bullet. I remember the sudden +pallor, the half gasp, and the expression of pain that followed. Then +the man uttered a cry. The same expression crossed the captain's face, +but there was no gasp and no cry; only a straightening of the lips and +a tightening-up of the iron jaw. Then, without a word of any kind in +answer, he caught up his cap, swung back the door, and with the wind +full on his chest, breasted his way to the bridge. +</P> + +<P> +When the door swung open a moment later it closed on the first +officer—a square, thick-set, round-headed man, with mild blue eyes set +in a face framed by a half-circle of reddish-brown whiskers, the face +tanned by twenty-five years of sea service, fifteen of them with +Captain Bogart. +</P> + +<P> +"Getting soapy," he said; "wind haulin' to the east'ard. Goin' to have +a nasty night." As he spoke he stripped off his tarpaulins, hung them +to a hook in the chart-room, and wiping the salt grime from his face +with his coat cuff, took the captain's empty seat at the table. +</P> + +<P> +I knew by the captain's silent departure that I had made a break of +some kind, but I could not locate it. Perhaps the first officer might +explain. +</P> + +<P> +"Captain lost his wife, didn't he?" I asked, moving my chair to make +room. +</P> + +<P> +"No—never had one." He leaned forward and filled one of the empty +cups. "Why did you think so?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, more from the tone of his voice than anything else. Some trouble +about it, wasn't there?" +</P> + +<P> +"There was. His sweetheart was burned to death ten years ago—lamp got +upset." These men are direct in their speech. It comes from their +life-long habit of giving short, crisp, meaning orders. He had reached +for the sugar now, and was dropping the lumps slowly into his cup. +</P> + +<P> +"That explains it, then," I answered. "We were talking about the bird +over there, and he said a man must have something to love, being +without wife or children, and then I told him a big man like himself, I +should think, would rather have a dog—" +</P> + +<P> +The first officer put down his cup, jerked his body around, and said, +his blue eyes looking into mine: +</P> + +<P> +"You didn't say that, did you?" +</P> + +<P> +I nodded my head. +</P> + +<P> +"Mighty sorry. Don't any of us talk to him of his dog. What did he say?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing. Turned a little pale, got up, and went out." +</P> + +<P> +"Too bad! You didn't know, of course—wish I'd posted you." +</P> + +<P> +"Then he DID have a dog?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, belonged to that poor girl." +</P> + +<P> +"What became of him?" +</P> + +<P> +The first officer leaned over the table and rested his elbows on the +cloth, his chin in the palms of his hands. For some time he did not +speak. Outside I could hear the thrash of the sea and the slosh of +spent waves coursing through the deck gutters. +</P> + +<P> +"You want to hear about that dog, do you?" he asked, straightening up. +"Well, I can tell you if any man can, but you're to keep mum about it +to the captain." +</P> + +<P> +Again I nodded. +</P> + +<P> +He fumbled in his outside pocket, drew forth a short pipe, rapped out +the dead ashes, refilled it slowly from a pouch on the table, lighted +it, and settled himself in his chair. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll begin at the beginning, for then you'll understand how I came to +be mixed up in it. I saw that dog when he first came aboard, and I want +to say right here that the sight of him raised a lump in my throat big +as your fist, for he was just the mate of the one I owned when I used +to look after my father's sheep on the hills where we lived. Then, +again, I took to him because he wasn't the kind of a pet I'd ever seen +at sea before—we'd had monkeys and parrots and a bobtail cat, but +never a dog—not a real, human dog. +</P> + +<P> +"He was one of those brown-and-white combed-out collies we have up in +my country, with a long, pointed nose that could smell a mile and eyes +like your mother's—they were so soft and tender. One of those dogs +that when he put his cold nose alongside your cheek and snuffed around +your whiskers you loved him—you couldn't help it—and you knew he +loved you. As for the captain—the dog was never three feet from his +heels. Night or day, it was just the same—up on the bridge, followin' +him with his eyes every time he turned, or stretched out beside his +berth when he was asleep. Hard to understand how such a man can love a +dog until you saw that one. Then, again, this dog had another hold upon +the captain, for the girl had loved him just the same way. +</P> + +<P> +"And he had the best nose in a fog—seemed as if he could sniff things +as they went by or came on dead ahead. After a while the captain would +send him out with the bow-watch in thick weather, and there he'd +crouch, his nose restin' on the rail, his eyes peerin' ahead. Once he +got on to a brigantine comin' bow on minutes before the lookout could +see her—smelt her, the men said, just as he used to smell the sheep +lost on the hillside at home. It was thick as mud—one of those pasty +fogs that choke you like hot steam. We had three men in the cro'nest +and two for'ard hangin' over her bow-rail. The dog began to grow +restless. Then his ears went up and his tail straightened out, and he +began to growl as if he had seen another dog. The captain was listenin' +from the bridge, and he suspected somethin' was wrong and rang 'Slow +down!' just in time to save us from smashing bow on into that +brigantine. Another time he rose on his hind legs and 'let out' a yelp +that peeled everybody's eyes. Then the slippery, barnacle-covered +bottom of a water-logged derelict went scootin' by a few yards off our +starboard quarter. After that the men got to dependin' on him—'Ought +to have a first mate's pay,' I used to tell the captain, at which he +would laugh and pat the dog on the head. +</P> + +<P> +"One morning about eight bells, some two hundred miles off Rio—we were +'board the Zampa, one of our South American line, with eighteen +first-class passengers, half of 'em women, and ten or twelve +emigrants—when word came to the bridge that a fire had started in the +cargo. We had a lot of light freight on board and some explosives which +were to be used in the mines in the mountains off the coast, so fire +was the last thing we wanted. Bayard—did I tell you the dog's name was +Bayard?—that's what the girl called him—was on the bridge with +Captain Bogart. I was asleep in my bunk. First thing I knew I felt the +dog's cold nose in my face, and the next thing I was on the dead run +for the after-hatch. I've had it big and ugly a good many times in my +life; was washed upon a pile of rocks once stickin' up about a cable's +length off our coast, and hung to the cracks until I dropped into a +lifeboat; and another time I was picked up for dead off Natal and +rolled on a barrel till I came to. But that racket aboard the Zampa was +the worst yet. +</P> + +<P> +"When I jumped in among the men the smoke was creepin' out between the +lids of the hatch. We ripped that off and began diggin' up the +cargo—crates of chairs, rolls of mattin', some spruce +scantling—runnin' the nozzle of the hose down as far as we could get +it. There were no water-tight compartments which we could have flooded +in those days as there are now, or we could have smothered it first +off. What we had to do was to fight it inch by inch. I knew where the +explosives were, and so did the captain and purser, but the crew +didn't—didn't even know they were aboard, and I was glad they didn't. +We had picked most of 'em up at Rio—or they'd made a rush maybe for +the boats, and then we'd had to shoot one or two of 'em to teach the +others manners. In addition to every foot of hose we had 'board I +started a line of buckets and then rushed a gang below to cut through +the bulkhead to see if we could get at the stuff better. +</P> + +<P> +"The men fell to with a will. Fire ain't so bad when you take hold of +it in time, and as long as there is plenty of steam pressure—and there +was—you can almost always get on top of it, unless something turns up +you don't count on. +</P> + +<P> +"That's what happened here. I was standin' on the coamings of the hatch +at the time, peerin' down into the smoke and steam, thinking the fire +was nearly out, directing the men what to h'ist out and what to leave, +when first thing I knew there came a dull, heavy thump, as if we'd +struck a rock amidships, and up puffed a cloud of smoke and sparks that +keeled me over on my back and nearly blinded me. +</P> + +<P> +"I knew then that the fire had just begun to take hold; that thump +might have been a cask of rum or it might have been a box of +nitro-glycerine. Whatever it was, there was no time to waste in +stoppin' the blaze before it reached the rest of the cargo. +</P> + +<P> +"Captain Bogart had felt the shock and now came runnin' down the deck +with the dog at his heels. He knew I'd take care of the fire and he +hadn't left the bridge, but the way she shook and heaved under the +explosion was another thing. +</P> + +<P> +"By this time the passengers were huddled together on the upper deck, +frightened to death, as they always are, the women the coolest in the +crowd. All except two little old women, sisters, who lived out of Rio +and who had been with us before. Fire was one of the things that scared +them to death, and they certainly were scared. They hung to the rail, +their arms around each other—the two together didn't weigh a hundred +and fifty pounds; always reminded me of two shiverin' little monkeys, +these two old women, although maybe it ain't nice for me to say it—and +looked down over the rail into the sea, and said they never could go +down the ladder, and did all the things badly scared women do, short of +pitching themselves overboard, which sometimes occurs. The captain +stopped and talked to 'em—told 'em there was no danger—his ears open +all the time for another let-go, and the dog nosed round and put out +his paw as if to make good what the captain had promised. +</P> + +<P> +"The water was goin' in now pretty lively—all the pumps at work—the +light stuff bein' heaved overboard as fast as it came out. By dark we'd +got the fire under so that we had steam where before we'd had smoke and +flame. The passengers had quieted down and some of 'em had gone back to +their staterooms to get their things together, and everything was going +quiet and peaceable—this was about nine o'clock—when there came +another half-smothered explosion and the stokers began crawlin' up like +rats. Then the chief engineer stumbled out—no hat nor coat, his head +all blood where a flying bolt had gashed him. Some of her bilge plates +was loose, he said, and the water half up to the fire-boxes. Next a +column of flame came pouring out of her companionway, which crisped up +four of our boats and drove everybody for'ard. We knew then it was all +up with us. +</P> + +<P> +"The captain now sent every man to the boats—those that would +float—and we began to get the passengers and crew together—about +sixty, all told. That's pretty nasty business at any time. They're like +a flock of sheep, huddlin' together, some wantin' to stay and some +crazy to go; or they are shiverin' with fright and ready to knife each +other—anything to get ahead or back or wherever they think it is +safest. This time most of 'em had got on to the explosives; they knew +something was up, either with the boilers or the cargo, and every one +of them expected to be blown up any minute. +</P> + +<P> +"I stood by the rail, of course, and had told off the men I could +trust, puttin' 'em in two lines to let 'em through one at a time, women +first, then the old men, and so on—same old story; you've seen it, no +doubt—and had got four boats overboard and filled—the sea was pretty +calm—and three of 'em away and out of range of fallin' pieces if she +did take a notion to let go suddenly, when the dog sprang out of the +door at the top of the stairs leading down to the main deck, barkin' +like mad, runnin' up to the captain, who stood just behind me, pullin' +at his trousers, and runnin' back again. Then a yell came from the boat +below that one of the old women was missing: it was her sister. One +half-crazy man said she'd jumped overboard—he was crowdin' up to the +rail and didn't want to stop for anything—and another said she had +gone off in the first boat, which I knew was a lie. +</P> + +<P> +"'Have you sent them both down?' asked Captain Bogart. +</P> + +<P> +"'No, sir; only one,' I said—and I hadn't. +</P> + +<P> +"Just then a steward stepped up with a bundle of clothing in his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"'I tried to get her out, but she'd locked herself in the stateroom, +sir. It was all afire when I come up.' +</P> + +<P> +"It took about two seconds for Captain Bogart to jump clear of the +crowd, run half the length of the deck and plunge through the door +leadin' to the main deck, the dog boundin' after him. +</P> + +<P> +"I've been through a good many anxious minutes in my life, but those +were the worst I'd had up to date. He and I had been pretty close ever +since I went to sea. He's ten years older than I am, but he gave me my +first chance. Yes; that kind of thing takes the heart out of you, and +they were both in it. Hadn't been for the dog we wouldn't have missed +her, maybe, although the captain was keeping tally of the passengers +and crew. +</P> + +<P> +"Three minutes, they said it was—more like three hours to me—I held +the crowd back, wondering how long I ought to wait if he didn't come +up, knowing my duty was to stay where I was, when the dog sprang out of +the door, half his hair singed off him, barkin' and jumpin' as if he +had been let out for a romp; and then came the captain staggerin' +along, his face scorched, his coat half burned off him, the woman in +his arms in a dead faint and pretty nigh smothered. The old fool had +locked herself in her stateroom—he had to break down the door to get +at her—cryin' she'd rather die there than be separated from her sister. +</P> + +<P> +"We made room for the two—the half-crazy man fallin' back—and the +captain lowered her himself into the boat alongside her sister, and +then he sent me down the ladder behind her to catch the others when +they came down and see that everything was ready to cast off. +</P> + +<P> +"I could see the captain now from my position in the boat, up against +the sky—he was the last man on the ship—holding the dog close to him. +Once I thought he was going to bring him down in his arms, he held him +so tight. +</P> + +<P> +"Next time I looked he was coming down the ladder slowly, one foot at a +time, the dog looking down at him, his big, human eyes peering into the +captain's face, his long, pointed nose thrust out, his ears bent +forward. If he could have spoken—and he looked as if he was +speaking—he would be telling him how glad he felt at savin' the old +woman, and how happy he was that they'd all three got clear. My own +collie used to talk to me like that—had a kind of low whine when he'd +get that way; tell me about his sheep stuck in the snow, and the way +the—" +</P> + +<P> +The first officer stopped, cleared his throat, shook the ashes from his +pipe and laid it on the table. After a while he went on. His words came +slower now, as if they hurt him. +</P> + +<P> +"When the captain got half-way down the ladder I saw him stand still +for a moment and look straight tip into the dog's eyes. Then I heard +him say: +</P> + +<P> +"'Down, Bayard! Stay where you are.' +</P> + +<P> +"The dog crouched and lay with his paws on the edge of the rail. That's +what he'd done all his life—just obeyed orders without question. Again +I saw the captain stop. This time he slipped his hand into his +side-pocket, half drew out his revolver, put it back again, and kept on +his way down the ladder to the boat. +</P> + +<P> +"Then the captain's order rang out: +</P> + +<P> +"'Get ready to shove off!' +</P> + +<P> +"Hardly had the words left his lips when there came another dull, +muffled roar, and a sheet of flame licked the whole length of the deck. +Then she fell over on her beam. +</P> + +<P> +"'My God!' I cried; 'left that dog to die!'" +</P> + +<P> +For a moment the first officer did not answer. Then he raised his eyes +to mine and said in a voice full of emotion: +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; there was nothin' else to do. It's against orders to take animals +into life-boats. They take room and must be fed, and we hadn't a foot +of space or an ounce of grub and water to spare, and we had two hundred +miles to go. I begged the captain. 'I'll give Bayard my place,' I said. +I knew he was right; but I couldn't help it. 'Let me go back and get +him.' I know now it would have been foolish; but I'd have done it all +the same. So would you, maybe, if you'd known that dog and seen his +trusting eyes lookin' out of his scorched face and remembered what he'd +just done. +</P> + +<P> +"The captain never looked at me when he answered. He couldn't; his eyes +were too full. +</P> + +<P> +"'Your place is where you are, sir,' he said, short and crisp. 'Shove +off, men.' +</P> + +<P> +"He will never get over it. That dog stood for the girl he'd lost, +somehow. That's the captain's bell. I'm wanted on the bridge. +Good-night." +</P> + +<P> +Again the cabin door swung free, letting in a blast of raw ice-house +air, the kind that chills you to the bone. The gale had increased. +Through the opening I could hear the combers sweeping the bow and the +down-swash of the overflow striking the deck below. +</P> + +<P> +With the outside roar came the captain, his tarpaulins glistening with +spray, his cap pulled tight down to his ears, his storm-beaten face +ruddy with the dash and cut of the wind. He looked like a sea Titan +that had stepped aboard from the crest of a wave. +</P> + +<P> +If he saw me—I was stretched out on the sofa by this time—he gave no +sign. Opening his tarpaulins and thrashing the water from his cap, he +walked straight to the cage, peered in, and said softly: +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, my little man! Asleep, are you? I just came down to take a look at +the chart and see how you were getting on. We're having some weather on +the bridge." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="muggles"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +MUGGLES'S SUPREME MOMENT +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +I +</H4> + +<P> +A most estimable young man was Muggles: a clean-shaven, spick-and-span, +well-mannered young man—particular as to the brushing of his hat, the +tying of his scarf and the cut of his clothes; more than particular as +to their puttings-on and puttings-off—sack-coat and derby for +mornings; top hat and frock for afternoons; bobtail and black tie for +stags, and full regalia of white choker, white waistcoat and +swallowtail for smart dinners and the opera. +</P> + +<P> +He knew, too, all the little niceties of social life—which arm to give +to his hostess in escorting her out to dinner; on which side of a +hansom to place a lady; the proper hours for calling; the correct thing +in canes, umbrellas, stick-pins and cigar-cases; the way to balance a +cup of afternoon tea on one knee while he toyed with a lettuce sandwich +teetering on the other—all the delicate observances so vital to the +initiated and so unimportant to the untutored and ignorant. Then +Muggles was a kind and considerate young man—extremely kind and +intrusively considerate; always interesting himself in everybody's +affairs and taking no end of trouble to straighten them out whether +importuned or not—and he seldom was. +</P> + +<P> +This idiosyncrasy had gained for him during his college days the title +of "Mixey." This in succeeding years had been merged into "Muddles" and +finally to "Muggles," as being more euphonious and less insulting. Of +late among his intimates he had been known as "The Goat," due to his +constant habit of butting in at any and all times, a sobriquet which +clings to him to this day. +</P> + +<P> +His real name—the one he inherited from his progenitors and now borne +by his family—was one that stood high in the fashionable world: a +family that answered to the more dignified and aristocratic patronymic +of Maxwell—a name dating back to the time of Cromwell, with direct +lineage from the Earl of Clanworthy—john, Duke of Essex, Lord +Beverston—that sort of lineage. No one of the later Maxwells, it is +true, had ever been able to fill the gap of a hundred years or more +between the Clanworthys and the Maxwells, but a little thing like that +never made any difference to Muggles or his immediate connections. Was +not the family note-paper emblazoned with the counterfeit presentment +of a Stork Rampant caught by the legs and flopping its wings over a +flattened fish-basket; and did not Muggles's cigarette-case, +cuff-buttons and seal ring bear a similar design? And the wooden mantel +in the great locked library, and which was opened and dusted twice a +year—the books, not the mantel—did it not support a life-sized +portrait of the family bird done in wood, with three diminutive +storklets clamoring to be fed, their open mouths out-thrust between +their mother's breast and the top edge of the fish-basket, enwreathed +by a more than graceful ribbon bearing the inscription, "We feed the +hungry"—or words to that effect? +</P> + +<P> +None of these evidences of wealth and ancestry, it must be said, ever +impressed the group of scoffers gathered about the wood fire of the +"Ivy" in his college days, or about the smart tables at the "Magnolia +Club" in his post-graduate life. To them he was still "Mixey," or +"Muddles," or "Muggles," or "The Goat," depending entirely upon the +peculiar circumstances connected with the mixing up or the butting in. +</P> + +<P> +To his credit be it said the descendant of earls and high-daddies never +lost his temper at these onslaughts. If Bender, or Podvine, or little +Billy Salters pitched into him for some act of stupidity—due entirely +to his misguided efforts to serve some mutual friend—Muggles would +argue, defend and protest, but the discussion would always end with a +laugh and his signing the waiter's check and ordering another one for +everybody. +</P> + +<P> +"Why the devil, Muggles, did you insist last night on that Boston +girl's riding home from the theatre in the omnibus, you goat?" +thundered Podvine one morning at the club, "instead of letting her—" +</P> + +<P> +"My dear fellow," protested Muggles, "it was much more comfortable in +the omnibus, and—" +</P> + +<P> +"—And broke up her walk home with Bobby, you idiot! He had to take the +owl train home, and she won't see him for a month. Didn't you know they +were engaged?" +</P> + +<P> +"No—" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course you didn't, Muggles, but you could have seen it in her face +if you'd looked. You always put your foot in it clean up to your pants' +pocket!" +</P> + +<P> +"You've been at it again, have you, Muggles?" burst out Bender that +same night "Listen to the Goat's last, boys. Jerry wanted to buy that +swamp meadow next his place on Long Island and had been dickering with +the old fellow who owns it all winter, telling him it would be a good +place to raise cranberries if it was dug out and drained, and they had +almost agreed on the price—about twice what it was worth—when down +goes Muggles to spend the night and Jerry blabs it all out, and just +why he wanted it, and the next morning Muggles, to clinch the deal and +help Jerry, slips over to the hayseed and tells him how the Sunnybrook +Club are going to buy Jerry's place, and how they wanted the swamp for +a hatchery—all true—and that the hayseed oughtn't to wait a moment, +but send word by HIM that the deal was closed, because the club-house +being near by would make all the rest of his land twice as valuable; +and the old Skeezicks winked his eye and shifted his tobacco and said +he'd think about it, and now you can't buy that sink-hole for twenty +times what it's worth, and the Sunnybrook is looking for another site +nearer Woodvale. Regular clown you are, Muggles. Exactly like that +fellow at the circus who holds up one end of the tent and then, before +the supes can reach it, drops it for the other end." +</P> + +<P> +When the results of this last well-intentioned effort with its +disastrous consequences became clear to the Goat, that spotless +gentleman leaned back in his chair, threw hick his shoulders, shot out +his cuffs, readjusted his scarfpin and replied in an offended tone: +</P> + +<P> +"All owing, my dear fellow, to the stupidity of the agricultural class. +I told the farmer he would regret it, and he will. As for myself, I was +awfully disappointed. I had planned to run all the way back to Jerry's +and tell him the good news before he went to sleep that night, and—" +</P> + +<P> +"Disappointed, were you? How do you think Jerry felt? Made a lot of +difference to him, I tell you, not selling his place to the club. Been +a whole year working it up. It's smothered now under a blanket—about +ninety per cent of its value—and the Sunnybrook scheme would have +pulled him out with a margin! Now it's deader than last year's shad. +What the club wanted was a hatchery built over a spring, and that's why +that swamp was necessary to the deal. Oh, you're the limit, Muggles!" +</P> + +<P> +It was while smarting under these criticisms that the steward one +morning in June brought him his letters. One was from Monteith—Class +of '9l—a senior when Muggles was a freshman—and was postmarked +"Wabacog, Canada," where Monteith owned a lumber mill—and where he ran +it himself and everything connected with it from stumpage to scantling. +"There is a broad stream that runs into the lake, ... and above the +mill there are bass weighing ten pounds, ... and back in the primeval +forest bears, ... and now and then a moose—" So ran the letter. +Muggles had spread it wide open by this time and was reading it +aloud—everybody knowing Monteith—and the group never having any +secrets of this kind from each other. +</P> + +<P> +"Come up, old chap," the letter continued, "and stay a week—two, if +you can work it—and bring Bender, and little Billy and Poddy, and +three or four more. The bungalow holds ten. Wire when—I'm now putting +things on ice." +</P> + +<P> +Muggles looked around the circle and sent interrogatory Marconigrams +with his eyebrows. In response Podvine said he'd go, and so did Billy +Salters. Bender thought he could come a day or two later—the earning +of their daily bread was not an absorbing task with these young +gentlemen—their fathers had done that years before. +</P> + +<P> +Muggles ran over in his mind the list of his engagements: he was due at +Gravesend on the tenth for a week, to play golf; at his aunt's +country-seat in Westchester on the eleventh for the same length of +time, and on the twelfth he was expected to meet a yacht at Cold Spring +Harbor for a cruise up the coast. He had accepted these invitations and +had fully intended to keep each and every one. Monteith's letter, +however, seemed to come at a time when he really needed a more virile +and bracing life than was offered by the others. Here was a chance to +redeem his reputation. Lumber camps meant big men doing big +things—things reeking with danger, such as falling trees, forest fires +and log jams. There might also be hair-breadth escapes in the hunting +of big game and the tramping of the vast wilderness. This dressing +three times a day and spending the intermediate hours hitting wooden +balls, or lounging in a straw chair under a deck awning, had become +tiresome. What he needed was to get down to Nature and hug the sod, and +if there wasn't any sod then he would grapple with whatever took its +place. +</P> + +<P> +Muggles dropped his legs to the floor, straightened his back, beckoned +to a servant, motioned for a telegraph blank—exertion is tabooed at +the Magnolia—untelescoped a gold pencil hooked to his watch-chain and +wrote as follows: +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks. Coming Tuesday." +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +II +</H4> + +<P> +Wabacog covers a shaved place in a primeval forest which slopes to a +lake of the same name. Covering this bare spot are huge piles of sawed +lumber—Monteith's axe-razors did the shaving—surrounding an enormous +mill surmounted by a smokestack of wrought iron topped with a bird-cage +spark arrester, the whole flanked by a runway emerging from the lake, +up which climb in mournful procession the stately bodies of fallen +monarchs awaiting the cutting irony of the saw. Farther along, on +another clearing, stands a square building labelled "Office," and still +farther on, guarded by sentinel trees and encircled by wide piazzas, +sprawls a low-roofed bungalow, its main entrance level with a boardwalk +ending in the lake. This was Monteith's home. Here during the winter's +logging he housed himself in complete seclusion, and here in summer he +kept open house for whoever would answer in person his welcoming +letters. +</P> + +<P> +Anything so rude and primeval, or so comforting and inviting, was +beyond the experience of Muggles and his friends. This became apparent +before they had shed their coats and unpacked their bags. There was a +darky who answered to the name of Jackson who could not only crisp +trout to a turn, but who could compound cocktails, rub down muscular +backs shivering from morning plunges in the lake, make beds, clean +guns, wait on the table, and in an emergency row a canoe. There were +easy chairs and low-pitched divans overspread with Turkey rugs and +heaped with piles of silk cushions; there were wooden lockers, all +open, and each one filled with drinkables and smokables—drinkables +with white labels, and smokables six inches long with cuffs halfway +down their length; there was an ice-chest sampling a larger house in +the rear; there was a big, wide, all-embracing fireplace that burst its +sides laughing over the good time it was having (the air was cool at +night), and outside, redolent with perfume and glistening in the +sunshine, there was a bed of mint protected by a curbing of plank which +rivalled in its sweet freshness those covering the last resting-places +of the most hospitable of Virginians. +</P> + +<P> +And there was Monteith! +</P> + +<P> +Some men are born rich; some inherit a pair of scissors fitted to +strong thumbs and forefingers, some have to lie awake nights wondering +what they will do next to help their surplus run to waste, and some +pass sleepless hours devising plans by which they can catch in their +empty pockets the clippings and drippings of all three. Muggles's host +was none of these. What he possessed he had worked for—early, late and +all the time. His father had stood by and seen the old homestead in his +native Southern State topple into ashes, Only the gaunt chimney left; +the son had worked his way through college, and then with diploma in +one hand and his courage in the other—all he owned—had shaken the +dust of civilization from his shoes and had struck out for the Northern +wilds: Wabacog was the result. +</P> + +<P> +All these years he had kept in touch with his college chums, and when +the day of his success arrived, and he was his own master, with the +inborn good-fellowship that marked his race, he had unbuttoned his +pocket, shaken out his heart and let loose a hospitality that not only +revived the memories of his childhood, but created a new kind of joy in +the hearts of his guests. Hence the bungalow—hence Jackson—hence the +lockers and the ice-chest, and hence the bed quilt of mint. +</P> + +<P> +"This is your room, Muggles—and, Bender, old man, yours is next +Podvine, you are across the hall," was his welcome. "Breakfast is any +time you want it; dinner at six. Now come here! See that line of +lockers and that ice-chest? Don't forget 'em, please! Step up, +Jackson—take a look at him, boys. That darky can mix anything known to +man. He never sleeps, and he's never tired. If you don't call on him +for every blessed thing you want day or night, there'll be trouble." +</P> + +<P> +They fished and canoed; they hunted bears—a fact known to the bear, +who kept out of their way—never was in it, Bender insisted; they went +overboard every morning, one after another, in the almost ice-cold +water of the lake, out again red as lobsters, back on a run, whooping +with the cold to the blazing fire of the bungalow which Jackson had +replenished with bundles of dried balsam that cracked and snapped with +a roar while it toasted the bare backs and scorched the bare legs of +each one in turn (the balsam was gathered the year before for this very +purpose). They roamed the woods, getting a crack once in a while at a +partridge or a squirrel; they strolled about the mill, listening to the +whir of the saws and watching the "cut" as it was rolled away and was +made to feed the huge piles of lumber and timber flanking the runway +and far enough away from the huge stack to be out of the way of +treacherous sparks; and at night they sat around Jackson's constantly +replenished fire and told stories of their college days or revived the +current gossip of the club and the Street. +</P> + +<P> +Muggles ruminated over each and every experience—all new to him—and +kept his eyes open for the psychological moment when he would burst +asunder the bonds of conventionality and rise to the full measure of +his abilities. The Clanworthys had swung battle-axes and ridden +milk-white chargers into the thickest of the fray. His turn would come; +he felt it in his knee: then these unbelievers would be silenced. +</P> + +<P> +His host interested him enormously, especially his masterful way of +handling his men. He himself had been elected foreman of Hose Carriage +No. 1 in the village near his father's country seat, and still held +that important office. His cape and fire-boots fitted him to a nicety, +and so did his helmet. No. 1 had been called out but once in its +history, and then to the relief of a barn which, having lost heart +before the rescuers reached it, had sunk to the ground in despair and +there covered itself with ashes. He had been criticised, he remembered, +much to his chagrin, for the way he had conducted the rescue party; but +it would never happen again. After this he would pattern his conduct +after Monteith, who seemed to accomplish by a nod and a wave of the +hand what he had split his throat in trying to enforce. He did not put +these thoughts into words; neither did he whisper them even in the ears +of Podvine or Monteith—the two men who understood him best and who +guyed him the least—especially Monteith, who never forgot that his +college chum was his guest. He confided them instead to Monteith's big, +red-faced foreman—half Canadian, part French, and the rest of him +Irish—who was another source of wonder. Muggles's inherent good humor +and willingness to oblige had made an impression on the lumber-boss and +he was always willing to answer any fool question the young New Yorker +asked—a privilege which he never extended to his comrades. +</P> + +<P> +"What do I do when somepin' catches fire?" the boss replied to one of +Muggles's inquiries—they were sitting in the office alone, Bender and +little Billy having gone fishing with Jackson. "I'd blow that big +whistle ye see hooked to the safety, first. Ye never heard it?—well, +don't! It'll scare the life out o' ye. If the mill catches before we +can get the pumps to work it's all up with us. If the piles of lumber +git afire we kin save some of 'em if the wind's right; that's why we +stack up the sawed stuff in separate piles." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you do first—squirt water on it?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, we ain't got no squirts that'll reach. Best way to handle the +piles o' lumber is to start a line of bucket-men from the lake and +cover the piles with anything you can catch up—blankets, old carpets, +quilts; keep 'em soaked and ye kin fight it for a while; that's when +one pile's afire, and ye're tryin' to save the pile next t'it. Light +stuff is all over in half an hour—no matter how big the pile is—keep +the rags soaked—that's my way." +</P> + +<P> +That night before the blazing coals Muggles broke out on some theories +of putting out a conflagration that made Bender sit up straight and +little Billy Salters cup his ears in attention. Monteith also craned +his neck to listen. +</P> + +<P> +"Who the devil taught you that, Mixey?" asked Bender. "You talk as if +you were Chief of the Big Six." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, any fireman knows that. I've been running with a machine for +years." The calm way with which Muggles said this, shaking the ashes +from his cigar as he spoke, showed a certain self-reliance. "Out in our +village I'm foreman of the Hose Company." +</P> + +<P> +The sudden roar that followed this announcement shook the big glasses +and bottles on the low table. +</P> + +<P> +"So you'd keep the blankets soaked, would you?" remarked Billy, winking +at the others. +</P> + +<P> +"I certainly would." This came with a certain triumphant tone in his +voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Learned that practising on his head," whispered Podvine. +</P> + +<P> +"Right you are, Poddy; but Muggles, suppose the mill caught first," +chipped in Monteith. The mill was the apple of his eye. Fire was what +he dreaded—he never could insure the mill fully against fire. "What +would you protect first—the mill or the piles of lumber?" +</P> + +<P> +"The lumber, of course—the mill can use its pumps if the engine-room +escapes." +</P> + +<P> +"Better save the mill," rejoined Monteith thoughtfully. "Trade is +pretty dull." Then he rose from his seat, reached for his hat and +strolled out on the portico to take a look around before he turned in. +</P> + +<P> +Muggles's masterful grasp of a science of which his companions knew as +little as they did of the Patagonian dialects came as a distinct +surprise. What else had the beggar been picking up in the way of +knowledge? Maybe Muggles wasn't such a goat, after all. That Monteith +had approved of his tactics only increased their respect for their +companion. Muggles caught the meaning of the look in their faces and +his waistcoat began to pinch him across his chest. This life was what +he needed, he said to himself. Here were big men—the lumber-boss was +one—and he was another—doing big things. Nothing like getting down to +primeval Nature for an inspiration! "Hugging the sod," as he named it, +had had its effect not only on himself, but on his fellows. They would +never have felt that way toward him at the Magnolia. The week at +Wabacog had widened their horizon—widened everybody's horizon—as for +himself he felt like a Western prairie with limitless possibilities +ending in mountains of accomplishment. +</P> + +<P> +That night, an hour after midnight, Muggles found himself sitting bolt +upright in bed. Outside, filling the air of the wilderness, bellowed +and roared the deep tones of the steam siren. Then came a babel of +voices gaining in distinctness and volume: +</P> + +<P> +"Fire, FIRE, FIRE!" +</P> + +<P> +Muggles sprang through the door and ran full tilt into Jackson and +Bender, who had vaulted from their beds but a second before. The next +instant every man in the bungalow, Monteith at their head, came +tumbling out, one after the other. +</P> + +<P> +"Fire! Fire! Fire!" rang the cry, repeated by a hundred mill hands +rushing toward the mill. A spark had worked its way through the +arrester, some one said, had fallen into the sawed stuff, been nursed +into a blaze by the night wind, and a roaring flame was in full charge +of one pile of lumber and likely to take possession of another. +</P> + +<P> +Muggles looked about him. +</P> + +<P> +HIS SUPREME MOMENT HAD COME! +</P> + +<P> +The blood of the Clanworthys rose in his veins. The Pass lay before +him—so did the Bridge. A full suit of dove-colored pajamas and a pair +of turned-up Turkish slippers was not exactly the kind of uniform that +either Leonidas or Horatius would have chosen to fight his way to +glory, but there was no time to change them. +</P> + +<P> +With a whoop to Bender, who had really begun to believe in him, and a +commanding order to Jackson, the three stripped the costly Turkish rugs +from the lounges, and blankets from the beds, and, following his lead, +dashed through the woods to the relief of the endangered pile of +lumber. On the way they passed a gang of Canucks, carrying buckets. It +was but the work of a moment to arrange these into a posse of relays +with Bender on the lake end of the line and Jackson next the pile, the +gang passing the buckets from hand to hand. +</P> + +<P> +This done Muggles snatched a ladder from an adjacent building, threw it +against the threatened lumber, skipped up its rungs like a squirrel and +stood in silhouette against the flaring blaze, his dove-gray flannels +flapping about his thin legs, his attenuated arms gyrating orders to +the relief party, who had spread the rugs and blankets on the +fire-endangered side of the pile of lumber and who were now soaking +them with water under Muggles's direction. Now and then, as some part +of the burning mass would collapse, a shower of sparks and smoke would +obscure Muggles; then he could be seen brushing the live coals from his +pajamas, darting here and there, shouting: "More water! More water! +Here, on this end! All together now!" fighting his way with hand raised +to keep the heat from blistering his face, a very Casabianca on the +burning deck. +</P> + +<P> +Soon the tongues of flame mounting skyward grew less in number; columns +of black smoke took the place of the shower of sparks; the light +flickering on the frightened tree-trunks began to pale; from the rugs +and blankets the hot steam no longer rose in clouds. The crisis had +passed! The pile was saved! Muggles had won! +</P> + +<P> +During all this time neither Monteith nor the big lumber-boss had put +in an appearance; nor had Podvine nor little Billy Salters lent a hand. +Bender had stuck to his post and so had Jackson, oblivious of the +whereabouts of any other member of the coterie except Muggles, whose +clothespin of a figure came into relief now and then against the flare +of the flames. Then Bender made his way back to the bungalow. +</P> + +<P> +The last man to leave the deck was Muggles. +</P> + +<P> +Backing slowly down the ladder one rung at a time, his face blistered, +his pajamas burnt into holes, he examined the surrounding lumber; saw +that all his orders had been carried out, gave some parting +instructions to the men to watch out for sparks, especially those +around the edge of the saved pile, and then slowly, and with great +dignity, made his way to the bungalow—his destiny fulfilled, his honor +maintained and his position assured among his fellows. He had now only +to await the plaudits of his comrades! +</P> + +<P> +As he pushed open the door and looked about him the color rose in his +cheeks and a kind of a hotness came from inside his pajamas. Grouped +about the low table, heaped with specimens of cut glass, a squatty +bottle, a siphon and a bowl of cracked ice, sat every member of the +coterie—Bender among them—Monteith in the easy chair at their head. +If any other occupation had engrossed their attention since the alarm +sounded there was no evidence of it either in their appearance or in +the tones of their voices. +</P> + +<P> +"Lo, the Conquering Hero," broke out Podvine. "Get up Billy and put a +wreath of laurel over his scorched and blistered brow." +</P> + +<P> +Muggles, for a moment, did not reply. The shock had taken his breath +away. He supposed every man had worked himself into exhaustion. The +only thing that had really dimmed his own triumph was the fear that on +reaching the bungalow he might find the blackened remains of one or +more of his comrades stretched out on the floor. +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't you fellows try to save anything?" he exploded. +</P> + +<P> +"Wasn't anything to save—mill was in no danger." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, the whole place would have gone if I hadn't—" +</P> + +<P> +"You're quite right, Muggles," said Monteith. "Let up on him, boys. You +worked like a beaver, old man. Sorry about the rugs—one was an old +Bokhara—but that's all right—of course you didn't stop to think." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, but, Monteith—what's a rug or two when you have to save a pile +of—what's the lumber worth, anyhow?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, well, never mind—let it go, old man." +</P> + +<P> +Bender, who was still soaking wet from splashing buckets, and since his +return to the bungalow had been boiling mad clear through, sprang to +his feet. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll tell you—I've just found out. As the pile now stands it's worth +four thousand dollars. If it had burned up it would have been worth +six. It's insured, you goat!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="finis"> +The End +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Veiled Lady, by F. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Veiled Lady + and Other Men and Women + +Author: F. Hopkinson Smith + +Posting Date: September 11, 2009 [EBook #4713] +Release Date: December, 2003 +First Posted: March 6, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VEILED LADY *** + + + + +Produced by Duncan Harrod. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + + + + + + +THE VEILED LADY + +And Other Men And Women + + +By + +F. Hopkinson Smith + + + + +CONTENTS + + THE VEILED LADY OF STAMBOUL + LORETTA OF THE SHIPYARDS + A COAT OF RED LEAD + MISS MURDOCK,--"SPECIAL" + THE BEGUILING OF PETER GRIGGS + MISS JENNINGS'S COMPANION + SAM JOPLIN'S EPIGASTRIC NERVE + MISS BUFFUM'S NEW BOARDER + CAPTAIN JOE AND THE SUSIE ANN + "AGAINST ORDERS" + MUGGLES'S SUPREME MOMENT + + + + +To my Readers: + +This collection of stories has been labelled "The Veiled Lady" as being +the easiest way out of a dilemma; and yet the title may be misleading. +While, beyond doubt, there is between these covers a most charming and +lovable Houri, to whom the nightingales sing lullabies, there can also +be found a surpassingly beautiful Venetian whose love affairs upset a +Quarter, a common-sense, motherly nurse whose heart warmed toward her +companion in the adjoining berth, a plucky New England girl with the +courage of her convictions, and a prim spinster whose only consolation +was the boarder who sat opposite. + +Nor does the list by any means end here. Rough sea-dogs, with friendly +feelings toward other dogs, crop up, as well as brave Titans who make +derricks of their arms and fender-piles of their bodies. Here, too, are +skinny, sun-dried Excellencies with a taste for revolutions, +well-groomed club swells with a taste for adventure and cocktails, not +to mention half a dozen gay, rollicking Bohemians with a taste for +everything that came their way. + +Perhaps it might have been best to enclose each story in a separate +cover, and then to dump the unassorted lot upon the table, where those +who wished could make their choice. And yet, as I turn the leaves, I +must admit that, after all, the present form is best, since each and +every incident, situation, and bit of local color has either passed +before or was poured into the wide-open eyes and willing ears of your +most humble and obedient servant + +A Staid Old Painter. + + 150 East 34th Street, + New York, March 13, 1907. + + + + +THE VEILED LADY OF STAMBOUL + + +Joe Hornstog told me this story--the first part of it; the last part of +it came to me in a way which proves how small the world is. + +Joe belongs to that conglomerate mass of heterogeneous nationalities +found around the Golden Horn, whose ancestry is as difficult to trace +as a gypsy's. He says he is a "Jew gentleman from Germany," but he +can't prove it, and he knows he can't. + +There is no question about his being part Jew, and there is a strong +probability of his being part German, and, strange to say, there is not +the slightest doubt of his being part gentleman--in his own estimation; +and I must say in mine, when I look back over an acquaintance covering +many years and remember how completely my bank account was at his +disposal and how little of its contents he appropriated. + +And yet, were I required to hold up my hand in open court, I would have +to affirm that Joe, whatever his other strains might be, was, after +all, ninety-nine per cent. Levantine--which is another way of saying +that he is part of every nationality about him. + +As to his honesty and loyalty, is he not the chosen dragoman of kings +and princes when they journey into far distant lands (he speaks seven +languages and many tribal dialects), and is he not today wearing in his +buttonhole the ribbon of the order of the Mejidieh, bestowed upon him +by his Imperial Highness the Sultan, in reward for his ability and +faithfulness? + +I must admit that I myself have been his debtor--not once, but many +times. It was this same quick-sighted, quick-witted Levantine who +lifted me from my sketching stool and stood me on my feet in the plaza +of the Hippodrome one morning just in time to prevent my being trodden +under foot by six Turks carrying the body of their friend to the +cemetery--in time, too, to save me from the unforgivable sin among +Orientals, of want of reverence for their dead. I had heard the tramp +of the pall-bearers, and supposing it to be that of the Turkish patrol, +had kept at work. They were prowling everywhere, day and night, and +during those days they passed every ten minutes--nine soldiers in +charge of an officer of police--all owing to the fact that some five +thousand Armenians, anxious to establish a new form of government, had +been wiped out of existence only the week before. + +Once on my feet (Joe accomplished his purpose with the help of my +suspenders) and the situation clear, I had sense enough left to uncover +my head and stand in an attitude of profound reverence until the +procession had passed. I can see them now--the coffin wrapped in a +camel's-hair shawl, the dead man's fez and turban resting on top. Then +I replaced my hat and finished the last of the six minarets of the +mosque gleaming like opals in the soft light of the morning. + +This act of courtesy, due so little to my own initiative, and so +largely to Joe's, gained for me many friends in and about the +mosque--not only those of the dead man, one of whom rowed a caique, but +among the priests who formed the funeral cortege--a fact unknown to me +until Joe imparted it. "Turk-man say you good man, effendi," was the +way he put it. "You stoop over yourselluf humble for their dead." + +On another occasion Joe again stood by my side when, with hat off and +with body in a half kotow, I sat before the Pasha, who was acting chief +of police after that stormy Armenian week--it was over really in five +days. + +"Most High Potentate," Joe began, translating my plain Anglo-Saxon +"Please, sir," into Eastern hyperbolics, "I again seek your +Excellency's presence to make my obeisance and to crave your permission +to transfer to cheap paper some of the glories of this City of +Turquoise and Ivory. This, if your Highness will deign to remember, is +not the first time I have trespassed. Twice before have I prostrated +myself, and twice has your Sublimity granted my request." + +"These be troublous times," puffed his Swarthiness through his +mustache, his tobacco-stained fingers meanwhile rolling a cigarette; a +dark-skinned, heavily-bearded Oriental, this Pasha, with an eye that +burned holes in you. "You should await a more peaceful season, effendi, +for your art." + +"On account of the Armenians, your Excellency?" I ventured to inquire +with a smile. + +"Yes." This, in translation by Joe, came with a whistling sound, like +the escaping steam of a radiator. + +"But why should I fear these disturbers of the peace, your Supreme +Highness? The Turk is my friend, and has been for years. They know me +and my pure and unblemished life. They also know by this time that I +have been one of the chosen few among nations who have enjoyed your +Highness's confidence, and to whom you have given protection." Here my +spine took the form of a horseshoe curve--Moorish pattern. "As to these +dogs of Armenians" (this last was Joe's, given with a growl to show his +deep detestation of the race--part of his own, if he would but +acknowledge it), "your Excellency will look out for them." He WAS +looking out for them at the rate of one hundred a day and no questions +asked or answered so far as the poor fellows were concerned. + +At this the distinguished Oriental finished rolling his cigarette, +looked at me blandly--it is astonishing how sweet a smile can +overspread the face of a Turk when he is granting you a favor or +signing the death warrant of an infidel--clapped his hands, summoning +an attendant who came in on all fours, and whispered an order in the +left ear of the almost prostrate man. This done, the Pasha rose from +his seat, straightened his shoulders (no handsomer men the world over +than these high-class Turks), shook my hand warmly, gave me the Turkish +salute--heart, mouth, and forehead touched with the tips of flying +fingers--and bowed me out. + +Once through the flat leather curtain that hid the exit door of the +Pasha's office, and into the bare corridor, I led Joe to a corner out +of the hearing of the ever-present spy, and, nailing him to the wall, +propounded this query: + +"What did the High-Pan-Jam say, Joe?" + +Hornstog raised his shoulders level with his ears, fanned out his +fingers, crooked his elbows, and in his best conglomerate answered: + +"He say, effendi, that a guard of ein men, Yusuf, his name--I know +him--he is in the Secret Service--oh, we will have no trouble with +him--" Here Joe chafed his thumb and forefinger with the movement of a +paying teller counting a roll. "He come every morning to Galata Bridge +for you me. He say, too, if any trouble while you paint I go him--ah, +effendi, it is only Joe Hornstog can do these things. The Pasha, he +know me--all good Turk-men know me. Where we paint now, subito? In the +plaza, or in the patio of the Valedee, like last year?" + +"Neither. We go first to the Mosque of Suleiman. I want the view +through the gate of the court-yard, with the mosque in the background. +Best place is below the cafe. Pick up those traps and come along." + +Thus it was that on this particular summer afternoon Joe and I found +ourselves on the shadow side of a wall up a crooked, break-neck street +paved with rocks, each as big as a dress-suit case, from which I got a +full view of the wonderful mosque tossing its splendors into the still +air, its cresting of minarets so much frozen spray against the blue. + +The little comedy--or shall I say tragedy?--began a few minutes after I +had opened my easel--I sitting crouched in the shadow, my elbow +touching the plastered wall. Only Joe and I were present. Yusuf, the +guard, a skinny, half-fed Turk in fez and European dress, had as usual +betaken himself to the cafe fronting the same sidewalk on which I sat, +but half a block away; far enough to be out of hearing, but near enough +to miss my presence should I decamp suddenly without notifying him. +There he drank some fifty cups of coffee, each one the size of a +thimble, and smoked as many cigarettes, their burned stubs locating his +seat under the cafe awning as clearly as peanut-shells mark a boy's at +the circus. I, of course, paid for both. + +So absorbed was I in my work--the mosque never was so beautiful as on +that day--I gave no thought to the fact that in my eagerness to hide my +canvas from the prying sun I had really backed myself into a small +wooden gate, its lintel level with the sidewalk--a dry, dusty, +sun-blistered gate, without lock or hasp on the outside, and evidently +long closed. Even then I would not have noticed it, had not my ears +caught the sound of a voice--two voices, in fact--low, gurgling +voices--as if a fountain had just been turned on, spattering the leaves +about it. Then my eye lighted, not only on the gate, but upon a seam or +split in the wood, half-way up its height, showing where a panel was +sometimes pushed back, perhaps for surer identification, before the +inside wooden beam would be loosened. + +So potent was the spell of the mosque's witchery that the next instant +I should have forgotten both door and panel had not Joe touched the toe +of my boot with his own--he was sitting close to me--and in explanation +lifted his eyebrow a hair's breadth, his eyes fixed on the slowly +sliding panel--sliding noiselessly, an inch at a time. Only then did my +mind act. + +What I saw was first a glow of yellow green, then a mass of blossoms, +then a throat, chin and face, one after another, all veiled in a +gossamer thin as a spider's web, and last--and these I shall never +forget--a pair of eyes shining clear below and above the veil, and +which gazed into mine with the same steady, full, unfrightened look one +sometimes sees on the face of a summer moon when it bursts through a +rift in the clouds. + +"Don't move and don't look," whispered Joe in my ear, a tone in his +voice of one who had just seen a ghost. "Allah! Ekber! Yuleima!" + +"Who is she?" I answered, craning my neck to see the closer. + +"No speak now--keep still," he mumbled under his breath. + +It may have been the gossamer veil shading a rose skin, making pink +pearls of the cheeks and chin and lending its charm to the other +features; or it may have been the wonderful eyes that made me oblivious +of Joe's warning, for I did look--looked with all my eyes, and kept on +looking. + +Men have died for just such eyes. Even now, staid old painter as I am, +the very remembrance of their wondrous size--big as a young doe's and +as pleading, their lids fringed by long feathery lashes that opened and +shut with the movement of a tired butterfly--sends little thrills of +delight scampering up and down my spine. Bulbuls, timid gazelles, +perfumed narghilehs, anklets of beaten gold strung with turquoise, +tinkling cymbals, tiny turned-up slippers with silk tassels on their +toes--everything that told of the intoxicating life of the East were +mirrored in their unfathomed depths. + +Most of these qualities, I am aware, are found in many another pair of +lambent, dreamy eyes half-hidden by the soft folds of a yashmak--eyes +which these houris often flash on some poor devil of a giaour, knowing +how safe they are and how slim his chance for further acquaintance. +Strange tales are told of their seductive power and strange +disappearances take place because of them. And yet I saw at a glance +that there was nothing of all this in her wondering gaze. Her eyes, in +fact, were fixed neither on Joseph nor on me, nor did they linger for +one instant on the beautiful mosque. It was my canvas that held their +gaze. Men and mosques were old stories; pictures of either as +astounding as a glimpse into heaven. + +Again Joe bent his head and whispered to me, his glance this time on +the mosque, on the hill, on the cafe, where Yusuf sat sipping his +coffee, talking to me all the time out of the corner of his mouth. + +"Remember, effendi, if Yusuf come we go way chabouk. You look at your +picture all time--paint--no look at her. If Yusuf come and catch us it +make trouble for her--make trouble for you--make more trouble for me. +Police Pasha don't know she come to this garden--I think somebody must +help her. You better stop now and go cafe. I find Yusuf. I no like this +place." + +With this Hornstog rose to his feet and began packing the trap, still +whispering, his eyes on the ground. Never once did he look in the +direction of the houri peering through the sliding panel. + +The clatter of a horse's hoofs now resounded through the still air. A +mounted officer was approaching. Joe looked up, turned a light +pea-green, backed his body into the gate with the movement of an eel, +put his cheek close to the sliding panel, and whispered some words in +Turkish. The girl leaned a little forward, glanced at the officer as if +in confirmation of Joseph's warning, and smothering a low cry, sprang +back from the opening. The next instant my eye caught the thumb and +forefinger of a black hand noiselessly closing the panel. Joe +straightened up, pulled himself into the position of a sentinel on +guard, saluted the officer, who passed without looking to the right or +left, drew a handkerchief from his pocket, and began mopping his head. + +"What the devil is it all about, Joe? Why, you look as if you had had +the wind knocked out of you." + +"Oh, awful close, awful close! I tell you--but not here. Come, we go +'way--we go now--not stay here any more. If that officer see the lady +with us the Pasha send me to black mosque for five year and you find +yourself board ship on way to Tripoli. Here come Yusuf--damn him! You +tell him you no like view of mosque from here--say you find another +place to-morrow--you do this quick. Hornstog never lie." + +On my way across the Galata Bridge to my quarters in Pera that same +afternoon Joe followed until Yusuf had made his kotow and we had made +ours, the three ending in a triple flight of fingers--waited until the +guard was well on his way back to the Pasha's office--it was but a +short way from the Stamboul end of the Galata--and drawing me into one +of the small cafes overlooking the waters of the Golden Horn, seated me +at the far end near a window where we could talk without being +overheard. Here Joe ordered coffee and laid a package of cigarettes on +the table. + +"My! but that was like the razor at the throat--not for all the hairs +on my head would I had her look out the small hole in the door when +Serim come along. Somebody must be take care of you, you Joe Hornstog, +that you don't make damn big fool of yourselluf. Ha! but it make me +creep like a spider crawl." + +I had pulled up a chair by this time and was facing him. + +"Now what is it? Who is the girl? Who was the chap on horseback?" + +"That man on the horse is Serim Pasha, chief of the palace police. He +has eyes around twice; one in the forehead, one in each ear, one in the +behind of his head. He did not see her--if he did--well, we would not +be talk now together--sure not after to-morrow night." + +"But what has he got to do with it? What did you say her name was? +Yuleima?" + +"Yes, Yuleima. What has Serim to do with her? Well, I tell you. If she +get away off go Serim's head. Listen! I speak something you never hear +anywhere 'cept in Turk-man's land. I know it all--everything. I know +her prince--he knows me. I meet him Damascus once--he told me some +things then--the tears run his cheeks down like a baby's when he +talk--and Serim know I know somethings! Ah! that's why he not believe +me if he catch me talk to her. Afterward I find more out from my friend +in Yuleima's house--he is the gardener. Put your head close, effendi." + +I drew my chair nearer and listened. + +"Yuleima," began Joe, "is one womans like no other womans in all--" + +But I shall not attempt the dragoman's halting, broken jargon +interspersed with Italian and German words--it will grate on you as it +grated on me. I will assume for the moment--and Joe would be most +thankful to have me do so--that the learned Hornstog, the friend of +kings and princes, is as fluent in English as he is in Turkish, Arabic, +and Greek. + +It all began in a caique--or rather in two caiques. One was on its way +to a little white house that nestles among the firs at the foot of the +bare brown hill overlooking the village of Beicos. The other was bound +for the Fountain Beautiful, where the women and their slaves take the +air in the soft summer mornings. + +In the first caique, rowed by two caique-jis gorgeously dressed in +fluffy trousers and blouses embroidered in gold, sat the daughter of +the rich Bagdad merchant. + +In the second caique, cigarette in hand, lounged the nephew of the +Khedive, Mahmoud Bey; scarce twenty, slight, oval face with full lips, +hair black as sealskin and as soft, and eyes that smouldered under +heavy lids. Four rowers in blue and silver attended his Highness, the +amber-colored boat skimming the waters as a tropical bird skims a +lagoon. + +The two had passed each other the week before on the day of the +Selamlik (the Turkish holiday) while paddling up the Sweet Waters of +Asia--a little brook running into the Bosphorus and deep enough for +caiques to float, and every day since that blissful moment my lady had +spent the morning under the wide-spreading plane-trees shading the +Fountain Beautiful--the Chesmegazell--attended by her faithful slave +Multif, her beautiful body stretched on a Damascus rug of priceless +value, her eager eyes searching the blue waters of the Bosphorus. + +On this particular morning--my lady had just stepped into her boat--the +young man was seen to raise himself on his elbow, lift his eyelids, and +a slight flush suffused his swarthy cheeks. Then came an order in a low +voice, and the caique swerved in its course and headed for the dot of +white and gold in which sat Multif and my lady. The Spanish caballero +haunts the sidewalk and watches all day beneath his Dulcinea's balcony; +or he talks to her across the opera-house or bull-ring with cigarette, +fingers, and cane, she replying with studied movements of her fan. In +the empire of Mohammed, with a hundred eyes on watch--eyes of eunuchs, +spies, and parents--love-making is reduced to a passing glance, brief +as a flash of light, and sometimes as blinding. + +That was all that took place when the two caiques passed--just a +thinning of the silken veil, with only one fold of the yashmak slipped +over the eyes, softening the fire of their beauty; then a quick, +all-enfolding, all-absorbing look, as if she would drink into her very +soul the man she loved, and the two tiny boats kept each on its way. + +The second act of the comedy opens in a small cove, an indent of the +Bosphorus, out of sight of passing boat-patrols--out of sight, too, of +inquisitive wayfarers passing along the highroad from Beicos to +Danikeui. Above the cove, running from the very beach, sweeps a garden, +shaded by great trees and tangles of underbrush; one bunch smothering a +summer-house. This is connected by a sheltered path with the little +white house that nestles among the firs half-way up the steep brown +hill that overlooks the village of Beicos. + +The water-patrol may have been friendly, or my lady's favorite slave +resourceful, but almost every night for weeks the first caique and the +second caique had lain side by side in the boat-house in the cove, both +empty, except for one trusty man who loved Mahmoud and who did his +bidding without murmur or question, no matter what the danger. Higher +up, her loose white robes splashed with the molten silver of the moon +filtering through overhanging leaves, where even the nightingale +stopped to listen, could be heard the cooing of two voices. Then would +come a warning cry, and a figure closely veiled would speed up the +path. Next could be heard the splash of oars of the first caique +homeward bound. + +Locksmiths are bunglers in the East compared to patrols and eunuchs. +Lovers may smile, but they never laugh at them. There is always a day +of reckoning. A whisper goes around; some disgruntled servant shakes +his head; and an old fellow with baggy trousers and fez, says: "My +daughter, I am surprised" or "pained" or "outraged," or whatever he +does say in polite Turkish, Arabic, or Greek, and my lady is locked up +on bread and water, or fig-paste, or Turkish Delight, and all is over. +Sometimes the young Lothario is ordered back to his regiment, or sent +to Van or Trebizond or Egypt for the good of his morals, or his health +or the community in which he lives. Sometimes everybody accepts the +situation and the banns are called and they live happy ever after. + +What complicated this situation was that the girl, although as +beautiful as a dream--any number of dreams, for that matter, and all of +paradise--was a plebeian and the young man of royal blood. Furthermore, +any number of parents, her own two and twice as many uncles and aunts, +might get together and give, not only their blessing, but lands and +palaces--two on the Bosphorus, one in Bagdad and another at Smyrna, and +nothing would avail unless his Imperial Highness the Sultan gave his +consent. Fruthermore, again, should it come to the ears of his August +Presence that any such scandalous alliance was in contemplation, +several yards of additional bow-strings would be purchased and the +whole coterie experience a choking sensation which would last them the +balance of their lives. + +Thus it was that, after that most blissful night in the arbor--their +last--in which she had clung to him as if knowing he was about to slip +forever from her arms, both caiques were laid up for the season; the +first tight locked and guarded in the palace of the young man's father, +five miles along the blue Bosphorus as the bird flies, and the second +in the little boat-house in the small indent of a cove under the garden +holding the beloved arbor, the little white house, and My Lady of the +diaphanous veil and the all-absorbing eyes. + +With the lifting of the curtain on the third act, the scene shifts. No +more Sweet Waters, no more caiques nor stolen interviews, the music of +hot kisses drowned in the splash of the listening fountain. Instead, +there is seen a sumptuously furnished interior the walls wainscoted in +Moorish mosaics and lined by broad divans covered with silken rugs. +Small tables stand about holding trays of cigarettes and sweets. Over +against a window overlooking a garden lounges a group of women--some +young, some old, one or two of them black as coal. It is the harem of +the Pasha, the father of Mahmoud, Prince of the Rising Sun, Chosen of +the Faithful, Governor of a province, and of forty other things +beside--most of which Joe had forgotten. + +Months had passed since that night in the arbor. Yuleima had cried her +eyes out, and Mahmoud had shaken his fists and belabored his head, +swearing by the beard of the Prophet that come what might Yuleima +should be his. + +Then came the death of the paternal potentate, and the young lover was +free--free to come and go, to love, to hate; free to follow the +carriage of his imperial master in his race up the hill after the +ceremony of the Selamlik; free to choose any number of Yuleimas for his +solace; free to do whatever pleased him--except to make the beautiful +Yuleima his spouse. This the High-Mightinesses forbade. There were no +personal grounds for their objection. The daughter of the rich Bagdad +merchant was as gentle as a doe, beautiful as a star seen through the +soft mists of the morning, and of stainless virtue. Her father had ever +been a loyal subject, giving of his substance to both church and state, +but there were other things to consider, among them a spouse especially +selected by a council of High Pan-Jams, whose decision, having been +approved by their imperial master, was not only binding, but final--so +final that death awaited any one who would dare oppose it. At the feast +of Ramazan the two should wed. Yuleima might take second, third, or +fortieth place--but not first. + +The young prince gritted his row of white teeth and flashed his +slumbering eyes--and they could flash--blaze sometimes--with a fire +that scorched. Yuleima would be his, unsullied in his own eyes and the +world's, or she should remain in the little white house on the brown +hill and continue to blur her beautiful eyes with the tears of her +grief. + +Then the favorite slave and the faithful caique-ji--the one who found +the little cove even on the darkest night--put their heads +together--two very cunning and wise heads, one black and wrinkled and +the other sun-tanned and yellow--with the result that one night a new +odalisque, a dark-skinned, black-haired houri, the exact opposite of +the fair-skinned, fair-haired Yuleima, joined the coterie in the harem +of the palace of the prince. She had been bought with a great price and +smuggled into Stamboul, the story ran, a present from a distinguished +friend of his father, little courtesies like this being common in +Oriental countries, as one would send a bottle of old Madeira from his +cellar or a choice cut of venison from his estate, such customs as is +well known being purely a matter of geography. + +The chief blackamoor, a shambling, knock-kneed, round-shouldered, +swollen-paunched apology for a man, with blistered, cracked lips, +jaundiced pig eyes, and the skin of a terrapin, looked her all over, +grunted his approval, and with a side-lunge of his fat empty head, +indicated the divan which was to be hers during the years of her +imprisonment. + +One night some words passed between the two over the division of +bonbons, perhaps, or whose turn it was to take afternoon tea with the +prince--it had generally been the new houri's, resulting in +considerable jealousy and consequent discord--or some trifle of that +sort (Joe had never been in a harem, and was therefore indefinite), +when the blackamoor, to punctuate his remarks, slashed the odalisque +across her thinly covered shoulders with a knout--a not uncommon mode +of enforcing discipline, so Joe assured me. + +Then came the great scene of the third act--always the place for it, so +dramatists say. + +The dark-skinned houri sprang up, rose to her full height, her eyes +blazing, and facing her tormentor, cried: + +"You blackguard"--a true statement--"do you know who I am?" + +"Yes, perfectly; you are Yuleima, the daughter of the Bagdad merchant." + +The fourth act takes place on the outskirts of Stamboul, in a small +house surrounded by a high wall which connects with the garden of a +mosque. The exposure by the eunuch had resulted in an investigation by +the palace clique, which extended to the Bagdad merchant and his +family, who, in explanation, not only denounced her as an ungrateful +child, cursing her for her opposition to her sovereign's will, but +denied all knowledge of her whereabouts. They supposed, they pleaded, +that she had thrown herself into the Bosphorus at the loss of her +lover. Then followed the bundling up of Yuleima in the still watches of +the night; her bestowal at the bottom of a caique, her transfer to +Stamboul, and her incarceration in charge of an attendant in a deserted +house belonging to the mosque. The rumor was then set on foot that it +was unlawful to look steadily into the waters of the Bosphorus or to +attempt the salvage of any derelict body floating by. + +The prince made another assault on his hair and tightened his fingers, +this time with a movement as if he was twisting them round somebody's +throat, but he made no outcry. It is hard to kick against the pricks in +some lands. + +He did not believe the bow-string pillow-case and solid-shot story, but +he knew that he should never look upon her face again. What he did +believe was that she had been taken to some distant city and there sold. + +For days he shut himself up in his palace. Then, having overheard a +conversation in his garden between two eunuchs--placed there for that +purpose--he got together a few belongings, took his faithful caique-ji, +and travelled a-field. If what he had heard was true she was in or near +Damascus. Here would he go. If, after searching every nook and cranny, +he failed to find her, he would return and carry out his sovereign's +commands and marry the princess--a woman he had never laid his eyes on +and who might be as ugly as sin and as misshapen as Yuleima was +beautiful. It was while engaged in this fruitless search that he met +Joseph, to whom he had poured out his heart (so Joe assured me, with +his hand on his shirt-front), hoping to enlist his sympathies and thus +gain his assistance. + +All this time the heartbroken girl, rudely awakened from her dream of +bliss, was a prisoner in the deserted house next the mosque. As the +dreary months went by her skin regained its pinkness and her beautiful +hair its golden tint,--walnut shells and cosmetics not being found in +the private toilet of the priests and their companions. When the summer +came a greater privilege was given her. She could never speak to any +one and no one could speak to her--even the priests knew this--but a +gate opening into the high-walled garden was left unlocked now and then +by one of the kind-hearted Mohammedans, and often she would wander as +far as the end of the wall overlooking the Mosque of Suleiman, her +attendant always with her--a black woman appointed by Chief-of-Police +Selim, and responsible for her safety, and who would pay forfeit with +her head if Yuleima escaped. + +"And you think now, effendi," concluded Joe, as he drained his last cup +of coffee (Hornstog's limit was twenty cups at intervals of three +minutes each), "that Joe be big damn fool to put his foots in +this--what you call--steel trap? No, no, we keep away. To-morrow, don't +it, we take Yusuf and go Scutari? One beautiful fountain at Scutari +like you never see!" + +"But can't her father help?" I asked, ignoring his suggestion. His +caution did not interest me. It was the imprisoned girl and her +suffering that occupied my thoughts. + +"Yes, perhaps, but not yet. I somethings hear one day from the gardener +who live with her father, but maybe it all lie. He say Serim come and +say--" Again Joe chafed his thumb and forefinger, after the manner of +the paying teller. "Maybe ten thousand piastres--maybe twenty. Her +father would pay, of course, only the Sultan might not like--then worse +trouble--nothing will be done anyhow until the wedding is over. Then, +perhaps, some time." + +I did not go to Scutari the next day. I opened my easel in the patio of +the Pigeon Mosque and started in to paint the plaza with Cleopatra's +Needle in the distance. This would occupy the morning. In the afternoon +I would finish my sketch of Suleiman. Should Joe have a fresh attack of +ague he could join Yusuf at the cafe and forget it in the thimbleful +that cheers but does not inebriate. + +With the setting up of my tripod and umbrella and the opening of my +color-box a crowd began to gather--market people, fruit-sellers, +peddlers, scribes, and soldiers. Then a shrill voice rang out from one +of the minarets calling the people to prayer. A group of priests now +joined the throng about me watched me for a moment, consulted together, +and then one of them, an old man in a silken robe of corn-yellow bound +about with a broad sash of baby blue, a majestic old man, with a +certain rhythmic movement about him which was enchanting, laid his hand +on Joseph's shoulder and looking into his eyes, begged him to say to +his master that the making of pictures of any living or dead thing, +especially mosques, was contrary to their religion, and that the +effendi must fold his tent. + +All this time another priest, an old patriarch with a fez and green +turban and Nile-green robe overlaid with another of rose-pink, was +scrutinizing my face. Then the corn-yellow fellow and the rose-pink +patriarch put their heads together, consulted for a moment, made me a +low bow, performed the flying-fingers act, and floated off toward the +mosque. + +"You no go 'way, effendi," explained Joe. "The priest in green turban +say he remember you; he say you holy man who bow yourselluf humble when +dead man go by. No stop paint." + +The protests of the priests, followed by their consultation and quiet +withdrawal, packed the crowd the closer. One young man in citizen's +dress and fez stood on the edge of the throng trying to understand the +cause of the excitement. + +Joe, who was sitting by me assisting with the water-cup, gazed into the +intruder's face a moment, then closed upon my arm with a grip as if +he'd break it. + +"Allah! Mahmoud Bey!" he whispered. "Yuleima's prince. That's him with +the smooth face." + +The next instant the young man stood by my side. + +"The people are only curious, monsieur," he said in French. "If they +disturb you I will have them sent away. So few painters come--you are +the first I have seen in many years. If it will not annoy you, I'd like +to watch you a while." + +"Annoy me, my dear sir!" I was on my feet now, hat in hand. (If he had +been my long-lost brother, stolen by the Indians or left on a desert +island to starve--or any or all of those picturesque and dramatic +things--I could not have been more glad to see him. I fairly hugged +myself--it seemed too good to be true.) "I will be more than delighted +if you will take my dragoman's stool. Get up, Joe, and give--" + +The request had already been forestalled. Joe was not only up, but was +bowing with the regularity and precision of the arms of a windmill, his +fingers, with every rise, fluttering between his shirt-stud and his +eyebrows. On his second upsweep the young prince got a view of his +face--then his hand went out. + +"Why, it is Hornstog! We know each other. We met in Damascus. You could +not, monsieur, find a better dragoman in all Constantinople." + +Only three pairs of eyes now followed the movements of my brush, the +crowd having fallen back out of respect for the young man's rank, Yusuf +having communicated that fact to those who had not recognized him. + +When the light changed--and it changed unusually early that morning, +about two hours ahead of time (I helped)--I said to the prince: + +"It may interest you to see me finish a sketch in color. Come with me +as far as Suleiman. We can sit quite out of the sun up a little back +street under a wall, and away from everybody. I began the drawing +yesterday. See!" and I uncovered the canvas. + +"Ah, Suleimanyeh! The most beautiful of all our mosques. Yes, certainly +I'll go." + +Joe dug his knuckles into my thigh, under pretence of steadying +himself--he was squatting beside me like a frog, helping with the +water-cups--and gasped: "No; don't take him--please, effendi! No--no--" + +I brushed Joe aside and continued: "We can send for coffee and spend +the afternoon. I'll have some chairs brought from the cafe. Pick up +everything, Joe, and come along." + +On the way to the crooked, break-neck street my thoughts went racing +through my head. On one side, perhaps, a tap on the shoulder in the +middle of the night; half a yard of catgut in the hands of a +Bashi-Bazouk; an appeal to our consul, with the consciousness of having +meddled with something that did not concern me. On the other a pair of +tear-stained, pleading eyes. Not my eyes--not the eyes of anybody that +I knew--but the kind that raise the devil even in the heart of a staid +old painter like myself. + +Joe followed, with downcast gaze. He, too, was scheming. He could not +protest before the prince, nor before Yusuf. That would imply previous +knowledge of the danger lurking in the vicinity of the old wall. His +was the devil and the deep sea. Not to tell the prince of Yuleima's +whereabouts, after their combined search for her, and the fees the +prince had paid him, would be as cruel as it was disloyal. To assist in +Mahmoud's finding her would bring down upon his own head--if it was +still on his shoulders--the wrath of the chief of police, as well as +the power behind him. + +Once under the shadow of the wall, the trap unpacked, easel and +umbrella up, and water-bottle filled, Joe started his windmill, paused +at the third kotow, looked me straight in the eye, and, with a tone in +his voice, as if he had at last come to some conclusion, made this +request: + +"I have no eat breakfast, effendi--very hungry--you please permit Joe +go cafe with Yusuf--we stay ONE hour, no more. Then I bring coffee. You +see me when I come--I bring the coffee myselluf." + +He could not have pleased me more. How to get rid of them both was what +had been bothering me. + +I painted on, both of us backed into the low gate with the sliding +panel, my eyes on the mosque, my ears open for the slightest sound. We +talked of the wonderful architecture of the East, of the taper of the +minarets, of the grace and dignity of the priests, of the social life +of the people, I leading and he following, until I had brought the +conversation down to the question: + +"And when you young men decide to marry are you free to choose, as we +Europeans are?" I was feeling about, wondering how much of his +confidence he would give me. + +"No; that's why, sometimes, I wish I was like one of the white gulls +that fly over the water." + +"I don't understand." + +"I would be out at sea with my mate--that's what I mean." + +"Have you a mate?" + +"I had. She is lost." + +"Dead?" + +"Worse." + +I kept at work. White clouds sailed over the mosque; a flurry of +pigeons swept by; the air blew fresh. With the exception of my +companion and myself the street was deserted. I dared not go any +further in my inquiries. If I betrayed any more interest or previous +knowledge he might think I was in league against him. + +"The girl, then, suffers equally with the man?" I said, tightening one +of the legs of my easel. + +"More. He can keep his body clean; she must often barter hers in +exchange for her life. A woman doesn't count much in Turkey. This is +one of the things we young men who have seen something of the outside +world--I lived a year in Paris--will improve when we get the power," +and his eyes flashed. + +"And yet it is dangerous to help one of them to escape, is it not?" + +"Yes." + +The hour was nearly up. Joe, I knew, had fixed it, consulting his watch +and comparing it with mine so that I might know the coast was clear +during that brief period should anything happen. + +"I was tempted to help one yesterday," I answered. "I saw a woman's +face that has haunted me ever since. She may not have been in trouble, +but she looked so." Then quietly, and as if it was only one of the many +incidents that cross a painter's path, I described in minute detail the +gate, the sliding panel, the veiled face and wondrous eyes, the +approach of the officer, the smothered cry of terror, the black finger +and thumb that reached out, and the noiseless closing of the panel. +What I omitted was all reference to Joe or his knowledge of the girl. + +Mahmoud was staring into my eyes now. + +"Where was this?" + +"Just behind you. Lift your head--that seam marks the sliding panel. +She may come again when she sees the top of my umbrella over the wall. +Listen! That's her step. She has some one with her--crouch down close. +There's only room for her head. You may see her then without her +attendant knowing you are here. Quick! she is sliding the panel!" + +Outside of Paris, overlooking the Seine, high up on a hill, stands the +Bellevue--a restaurant known to half the world. Sweeping down from the +perfectly appointed tables lining the rail of the broad piazza; +skimming the tree-tops, the plain below, the twisting river, rose-gold +in the twilight, the dots of parks and villas, the eye is lost in the +distant city and the haze beyond--the whole a-twinkle with myriads of +electric lights. + +There, one night, from my seat against the opposite wall (I was dining +alone), I was amusing myself watching a table being set with more than +usual care; some rich American, perhaps, with the world in a sling, or +some young Russian running the gauntlet of the dressing-rooms. Staid +old painters like myself take an interest in these things. They serve +to fill his note-book, and sometimes help to keep him young. + +When I looked again the waiter was drawing out a chair for a woman with +her back to me. In the half-light, her figure, in silhouette against +the cluster of candles lighting the table, I could see that she was +young and, from the way she took her seat, wonderfully graceful. +Opposite her, drawing out his own chair, stood a young man in evening +dress, his head outlined against the low, twilight sky. It was Mahmoud! + +I sprang from my seat and walked straight toward them. There came a low +cry of joy, and then four outstretched arms--two of them tight-locked +about my neck. + +"Tell me," I asked, when we had seated ourselves, Yuleima's hands still +clinging to mine. "After I left you that last night in the garden, was +the boat where we hid it?" + +"Yes." + +"Who rowed you to the steamer?" + +"My old caique-ji." + +"And who got the tickets and passports?" + +"Hornstog." + + + + +LORETTA OF THE SHIPYARDS + + +I + +For centuries the painters of Venice have seized and made their own the +objects they loved most in this wondrous City by the Sea. Canaletto, +ignoring every other beautiful thing, laid hold of quays backed by +lines of palaces bordering the Grand Canal, dotted with queer gondolas +rowed by gondoliers, in queerer hoods of red or black, depending on the +guild to which they belonged. Turner stamped his ownership on sunset +skies, silver dawns, illuminations, fetes, and once in a while on a +sweep down the canal past the Salute, its dome a huge incandescent +pearl. Ziem tied up to the long wall and water steps of the Public +Garden, aflame with sails of red and gold: he is still there--was the +last I heard of him, octogenarian as he is. Rico tacks his card to +garden walls splashed with the cool shadows of rose-pink oleanders +dropping their blossoms into white and green ripples, melting into +blue. As for me--I have laid hands on a canal--the Rio Giuseppe--all of +it--from the beginning of the red wall where the sailors land, along +its crookednesses to the side entrance of the Public Garden, and so +past the rookeries to the lagoon, where the tower of Castello is ready +to topple into the sea. + +Not much of a canal--not much of a painting ground really, to the +masters who have gone before and are still at work, but a truly +lovable, lovely, and most enchanting possession to me their humble +disciple. Once you get into it you never want to get out, and, once +out, you are miserable until you get back again. On one side stretches +a row of rookeries--a maze of hanging clothes, fish-nets, balconies +hooded by awnings and topped by nondescript chimneys of all sizes and +patterns, with here and there a dab of vermilion and light red, the +whole brilliant against a china-blue sky. On the other runs the long +brick wall of the garden,--soggy, begrimed; streaked with moss and +lichen in bands of black-green and yellow ochre, over which mass and +sway the great sycamores that Ziem loves, their lower branches +interwoven with zinnober cedars gleaming in spots where the prying sun +drips gold. + +Only wide enough for a barca and two gondolas to pass--this canal of +mine. Only deep enough to let a wine barge through; so narrow you must +go all the way back to the lagoon if you would turn your gondola; so +short you can row through it in five minutes; every inch of its water +surface part of everything about it, so clear are the reflections; full +of moods, whims, and fancies, this wave space--one moment in a broad +laugh coquetting with a bit of blue sky peeping from behind a cloud, +its cheeks dimpled with sly undercurrents, the next swept by flurries +of little winds, soft as the breath of a child on a mirror; then, when +aroused by a passing boat, breaking out into ribbons of color--swirls +of twisted doorways, flags, awnings, flower-laden balconies, +black-shawled Venetian beauties all upside down, interwoven with strips +of turquoise sky and green waters--a bewildering, intoxicating jumble +of tatters and tangles, maddening in detail, brilliant in color, +harmonious in tone: the whole scintillating with a picturesqueness +beyond the ken or brush of any painter living or dead. + +On summer days--none other for me in Venice (the other fellow can have +it in winter)--everybody living in the rookeries camps out on the quay, +the women sitting in groups stringing beads, the men flat on the +pavement mending their nets. On its edge, hanging over the water, +reaching down, holding on by a foot or an arm to the iron rail, are +massed the children--millions of children--I never counted them, but +still I say millions of children. This has gone on since I first staked +out my claim--was a part of the inducement, in fact, that decided me to +move in and take possession--boats, children, still water, and +rookeries being the ingredients from which I concoct color combinations +that some misguided people take home and say they feel better for. + +If you ask me for how many years I have been sole owner of this stretch +of water I must refer you to Loretta, who had lived just five summers +when my big gondolier, Luigi, pulled her dripping wet from the canal, +and who had lived eleven more--sixteen, in all--when what I have to +tell you happened. + +And yet, Loretta's little mishap, now I come to think of it, does not +go back far enough. My claim was really staked out before she was born +(I am still in possession--that is--I was last year, and hope to be +this), and her becoming part of its record is but the sticking of two +pins along a chart,--the first marking her entrance at five and the +second her exit at sixteen. All the other years of my occupation--those +before her coming and since her going--were, of course, full of the +kind of joy that comes to a painter, but these eleven years--well, +these had all of this joy and then, too, they had--Loretta. + +I was in the bow of the gondola when the first of these two pins found +its place on the chart, working away like mad, trying to get the exact +shadow tones on a sun-flecked wall. Luigi was aft, fast asleep, his +elbow under his head: I never object, for then he doesn't shake the +boat. Suddenly from out the hum of the children's voices there came a +scream vibrant with terror. Then a splash! Then the gondola swayed as +if a barca had bumped it, and the next thing I knew Luigi's body made a +curve through the air, struck the water, with an enormous souse, and up +came Loretta, her plump, wet little body resting as easily on Luigi's +hand, as a tray rests on a waiter's. Another sweep with his free arm, +and he passed me the dripping child and clambered up beside her. The +whole affair had not occupied two minutes. + +That was a great day for me! + +Heretofore I had been looked upon as a squatter: possessing certain +rights, of course, and more or less welcome because of sundry lire +expended for the temporary use of fishing boats with sails up,--but +still an interloper. Now I became one of the thousand families and the +million children. These were all in evidence in less than ten seconds; +the peculiar quality of that scream had done it; not only from the top +story of the highest rookery did they swarm, but from every near-by +campo, and way back to the shipyards. + +Luigi pushed the gondola to the quay and I lifted out the water-soaked, +blue-lipped little tot, her hair flattened against her cheeks (she was +laughing now,--"It was nothing," she said, "my foot slipped,") and +placed her in the hands of the longest-armed fishwife; and then Luigi +disappeared into a door, level with the quay, from which he reappeared +ten minutes later in a suit of dry clothes, the property of a +fisherman, and of so grotesque a fit, the trousers reaching to his +knees and the cuffs of the coat to his elbows, that he set the +population in a roar. My Luigi, you might as well know, is six feet and +an inch, with the torso of a Greek god and a face that is twin to +Colleone's, and, furthermore, is quite as distinguished looking as that +gentleman on horseback, even if he does wear a straw hat instead of a +copper helmet. After this Loretta became part of my establishment, +especially at luncheon time, Luigi hunting her up and bringing her +aboard in his arms, she clinging to his grizzled, sunburned neck. Often +she would spend the rest of the day watching me paint. + +All I knew of her antecedents and life outside of these visits was what +Luigi told me. She was born, he said, in the shipyards, and at the +moment lived in the top of the rookery nearest the bridge. She had an +only sister, who was ten years older; the mother was the wife of a crab +fisherman who had died some years before; the two children and mother +were cared for by a brother crab fisherman. His son Francesco, if +report were true, was to marry the sister when she turned fifteen, +Francesco being four years older. This last reference to Francesco came +with a shake of the head and a certain expression in Luigi's eyes which +told me at once that his opinion of the prospective groom was not for +publication--a way he has when he dislikes somebody and is too polite +to express it. + +"Fishes for crabs, like his father?" I asked. + +"Yes, crabs and young girls," he answered with a frown. "A poor lot, +these crab catchers, Signore. Was it the charcoal or a brush you +wanted?" + +Francesco did not interest me,--nor did the grownup sister; nor the +mother, over whom Luigi also shrugged his shoulders. It was Loretta's +chubbiness that delighted my soul. + +Even at five she was a delightful little body, and full of entrancing +possibilities. One can always tell what the blossom will be from the +bud. In her case, all the essentials of beauty were in evidence: dark, +lustrous velvety eyes; dazzling teeth--not one missing; jet-black +hair--and such a wealth of it, almost to her shoulders; a slender +figure, small hands and feet; neat, well-turned ankles and wrists, and +rounded plump arms above the elbows. + +"What do you intend to do, little one, when you grow up?" I asked her +one morning. She was sitting beside me, her eyes following every +movement of my brush. + +"Oh, what everybody does. I shall string beads and then when I get big +like my sister I shall go to the priest and get married, and have a +ring and new shoes and a beautiful, beautiful veil all over my hair." + +"So! And have you picked him out yet?" + +"Oh, no, Signore! Why, I am only a little girl. But he will surely +come,--they always come." + +These mornings in the gondola continued until she was ten years old. +Sometimes it was a melon held high in the air that tempted her; or a +basket of figs, or some huge bunches of grapes; or a roll and a broiled +fish from a passing cook-boat: but the bait always sufficed. With a +little cry of joy the beads would be dropped, or the neighbor's child +passed to another or whatever else occupied her busy head and small +hands, and away she would run to the water steps and hold out her arms +until Luigi rowed over and lifted her in. She had changed, of course, +in these five years, and was still changing, but only as an expanding +bud changes. The eyes were the same and so were the teeth--if any had +dropped out, newer and better ones had taken their places; the hair +though was richer, fuller, longer, more like coils of liquid jet, with +a blue sheen where the sky lights touched its folds. The tight, trim +little figure, too, had loosened out in certain places--especially +about the chest and hips. Before many years she would flower into the +purest type of the Venetian--the most beautiful woman the world knows. + +At sixteen she burst into bloom. + +I have never seen a black tulip, not a real velvet-black, but if inside +its shroud of glossy enfoldings--so like Loretta's hair--there lies +enshrined a mouth red as a pomegranate and as enticing, and if above it +there burn two eyes that would make a holy man clutch his rosary; and +if the flower sways on its stalk with the movement of a sapling +caressed by a summer breeze;--then the black tulip is precisely the +kind of flower that Loretta bloomed into. + +And here the real trouble began,--just as it begins for every other +pretty Venetian, and here, too, must I place the second pin in my chart. + +It all came through Francesco. The older sister had died with the first +child, and this crab catcher had begun to stretch out his claws for +Loretta. She and her mother still lived with Francesco's father, who +was a widower. The mother kept the house for all,--had done so for +Francesco and her daughter during their brief married life. + +In her persecution Loretta would pour out her heart to Luigi, telling +how they bothered her,--her mother the most of all. She hated +Francesco,--hated his father,--hated everybody who wanted her to marry +the fisherman. (Luigi, poor fellow, had lost his only daughter when she +was five years of age, which accounted, I always thought, for his +interest in the girl.) + +One morning she called to him and waited on the quay until he could +hail a passing barca and step from the gondola to its deck and so +ashore. Then the two disappeared through the gate of the garden. + +"She is too pretty to go alone," he explained on his return. "Every day +she must pay a boy two soldi, Signore, to escort her to the lace +factory--the boy is sick today and so I went with her. But their +foolishness will stop after this;--these rats know Luigi." + +From this day on Loretta had the Riva to herself. + + + +II + +So far there has been introduced into this story the bad man, +Francesco, with crab-like tendencies, who has just lost his wife; the +ravishingly beautiful Loretta; the girl's mother, of whom all sorts of +stories were told--none to her credit; big tender-hearted Luigi +Zanaletto, prince of gondoliers, and last, and this time least, a staid +old painter who works in a gondola up a crooked canal which is +smothered in trees, choked by patched-up boats and flanked by tattered +rookeries so shaky that the slightest earth quiver would tumble them +into kindling wood. + +There enters now another and much more important character,--one +infinitely more interesting to my beautiful Lady of the Shipyards than +any grandfather gondolier or staid old painter who ever lived. This +young gentleman is twenty-one; has a head like the Hermes, a body like +the fauns, and winsome, languishing eyes with a light in their depths +which have set the heart of every girl along his native Giudecca +pitapatting morning, noon, and night. He enjoys the distinguished name +of Vittorio Borodini, and is the descendant of a family of +gondoliers--of the guild of the Castellani--who can trace their +ancestral calling back some two hundred years (so can Luigi; but then +Luigi never speaks of it, and the Borodinis always do). Being +aristocrats, the Zanalettos and Borodinis naturally fraternize, and as +they live in the same quarter--away up on the Giudecca--two miles from +my canal--the fathers of Vittorio and Luigi have become intimate +friends. Anything, therefore, touching the welfare of any one of the +descendants of so honorable a guild is more or less vital to the +members of both families. + +At the moment something HAD touched a Borodino--and in the most vital +of spots. This was nothing less than the heart of young Vittorio, the +pride and hope of his father. He had seen the "Rose of the Shipyards," +as she was now called, pass the traghetto of the Molo, off which lay +his gondola awaiting custom,--it was on one of the days when the +two-soldi boy acted as chaperon,--and his end had come. + +It had only been a flash from out the lower corner of the left eye of +Loretta as she floated along past the big columns of the Palazzo of the +Doges, but it had gone through the young gondolier and out on the other +side, leaving a wound that nothing would heal. She had not intended to +hurt him, or even to attract him;--he only happened to be in the way +when her search-light illumined his path. + +Vittorio knew at a glance that she came from the rookeries and that he, +the scion of a noble family, should look higher for his mate, but that +made no difference. She was built for him and he was built for her, and +that was the end of it: not for an intrigue--he was not constructed +along those lines--but with a ring and a priest and all the rest of it. +The main difficulty was to find some one who knew her. He would +not,--could not, confront her; nor would he follow her home; but +something must be done, and at once: a conclusion, it will be admitted, +than an incalculable number of young Vittorios have reached, sooner or +later, the world over. + +When, therefore, a rumor came to his ears that Luigi the Primo was +protecting her--the kind of protection that could never be +misunderstood in Luigi's case--a piece of news which his informer was +convinced would end the projected intrigue of the young gondolier, then +and there and for all time, Vittorio laughed so loud and so long, and +so merrily, that he lost, in consequence, two fares to San Giorgio, and +came near being reprimanded by the Gastaldo for his carelessness. + +That was why late one afternoon (I was painting the sunset glow) just +as Loretta reached the edge of the quay on her way home, a young +fellow, in white duck with a sash of dark red silk binding and hanging +from his waist and a rakish straw hat tipped over his handsome face, +shot his gondola alongside mine and leaned over to whisper something in +Luigi's ear. And that was why the girl in her long black shawl stopped, +and why Luigi immediately changed gondolas and made for the quay, and +why they all talked together for a moment, the girl flashing and the +boy beaming, and that was why, too, they all three disappeared a moment +later in the direction of the high rookery where lived the baffled, +love-sick Francesco, his anxious father, the much-talked-about mother, +and the Rose of the Shipyards. + +In a garden where the soil is so rich that a seedling of five--a mere +slip--blooms into flower before a foolish old painter can exhaust the +subjects along the canal, it is not surprising that a love affair +reaches its full growth between two suns. Not since the day she had +tumbled into the canal had she gone so headover-heels--both of them. +Nor did Luigi pull them out. He helped in the drowning, really. + +He was talking to himself when he came back--a soft light in his eyes, +a smile lingering around the corners of his up-turned, grizzled +mustache. + +"It is good to be young, Signore, is it not?" was all he said, and at +once began bundling up my traps. + +Before the week was out,--nay, before the setting of two suns--every +gossip along the Riva--and they about covered the population--had +become convinced that Loretta was lost to the Quarter. Unless a wedding +ring was to end it all Vittorio would never be so bold in his +attentions to Loretta, as to walk home with her nights and wait for her +mornings. + +Luigi shook his head, but he did not help the gossips solve the +problem. He had had trouble enough already with Vittorio's father. + +"A common wench from the yards, I hear, Luigi!" he had blazed out--"and +you, I understand, brought them together--you,--who have been my friend +for--" + +"Stop, Borodini! Not another word! You are angry, and when you are +angry you are stupid. I carried that girl in my arms when she was a +baby! I have watched over her ever since. A wench! Not one of your own +daughters has a heart so white. If Vittorio is so great a coward as to +listen to their talk I'll keep her for his betters." + +All this snapped out of Luigi's eyes and rolled from under his crisp +mustache as he repeated the outbreak to me. What the end might be +neither the Giudecca nor San Giuseppe could decide. The Borodinis were +proud; Vittorio's father was one of the gondoliers belonging to the +palace and always rowed the good Queen Margherita when she came +incognito to Venice,--a post which greatly enhanced his social station. +Vittorio was the only son, and already a member of the traghetto, young +as he was. But then, were there any girls better than Loretta, or as +good? She helped her mother; she paid her share of the rent to +Francesco's father; she gave to the poor box. That she was the sunshine +of the Quarter every one knew who heard her sweet, cheery voice. As to +her family, it was true that her mother was a Sicilian who boiled over +sometimes in a tempest of rage, like Vesuvius,--but her father had been +one of them. And then again, was she not the chosen friend of Luigi, +the Primo, and of the crazy painter who haunted the canal? The boy and +his father might be glad, etc., etc. + +The only persons who were oblivious to the talk were the two lovers. +Their minds were made up. Father Garola had promised, and they knew +exactly what to do, and when and where to do it. In the meantime the +Riva was a pathway of rose-tinted clouds constructed for the especial +use of two angels, one of whom wore a straw hat with a red ribbon +canted over his sunburnt face, and the other a black shawl with silken +fringe, whose every movement suggested a caress. + +The one disgruntled person was Francesco. + +He had supposed at first that, like the others, Vittorio would find out +his mistake;--certainly when he looked closely into the pure eyes of +the girl, and that then, like the others, he would give up the +chase;--he not being the first gay Lothario who had been taught just +such a lesson. + +Loretta's answer to the schemer, given with a toss of her head and a +curl of her lips, closed Francesco's mouth and set his brain in a +whirl. In his astonishment he had long talks with his father, the two +seated in their boat against the Garden wall so no one could overhear. + +Once he approached Luigi and began a tale, first about Vittorio and his +escapades and then about Loretta and her coquetry, which Luigi +strangled with a look, and which he did not discuss or repeat to me, +except to remark--"They have started in to bite, Signore," the meaning +of which I could but guess at. At another time he and his associates +concocted a scheme by which Vittorio's foot was to slip as he was +leaving Loretta at the door, and he be fished out of the canal with his +pretty clothes begrimed with mud;--a scheme which was checked when they +began to examine the young gondolier the closer, and which was entirely +abandoned when they learned that his father was often employed about +the palace of the king. In these projected attacks, strange to say, the +girl's mother took part. Her hope in keeping her home was in Loretta's +marrying Francesco. + +Then, dog as he was, he tried the other plan--all this I got from +Luigi, he sitting beside me, sharpening charcoal points, handing me a +fresh brush, squeezing out a tube of color on my palette: nothing like +a romance to a staid old painter; and then, were not both of us in the +conspiracy as abettors, and up to our eyes in the plot? + +This other plan was to traduce the girl. So the gondoliers on the +traghetto began to talk,--behind their hands, at first: She had lived +in Francesco's house; she had had a dozen young fishermen trapesing +after her; her mother, too, was none too good. Then again, you could +never trust these Neapolitans,--the kitten might be like the cat, etc., +etc. + +Still the lovers floated up and down the Riva, their feet on clouds, +their heads in the heavens. Never a day did he miss, and always with a +wave of her hand to me as they passed: down to Malamocco on Sundays +with another girl as chaperon, or over to Mestre by boat for the festa, +coming home in the moonlight, the tip of his cigarette alone lighting +her face. + +One morning--the lovers had only been waiting for their month's +pay--Luigi came sailing down the canal to my lodgings, his gondola in +gala attire,--bunches of flowers tied at each corner of the tenda; a +mass of blossoms in the lamp socket; he himself in his best white suit, +a new red sash around his waist--his own colors--and off we went to San +Rosario up the Giudecca. And the Borodinis turned out in great force, +and so did all the other 'inis, and 'olas, and 'ninos--dozens of +them--and in came Loretta, so beautiful that everybody held his breath; +and we all gathered about the altar, and good Father Garola stepped +down and took their hands; and two candles were lighted and a little +bell rang; and then somebody signed a book--somebody with the bearing +of a prince--Borodini, I think--and then Luigi, his rich, sunburned +face and throat in contrast with his white shirt, moved up and affixed +his name to the register; and then a door opened on the side and they +all went out into the sunlight. + +I followed and watched the gay procession on its way to the waiting +boats. As I neared the corner of the church a heavily-built young +fellow ran past me, crouched to the pavement, and hid himself behind +one of the tall columns. Something in his dress and movement made me +stop. Not being sure, I edged nearer and waited until he turned his +head. It was Francesco. + + + +III + +The skies were never more beautiful that May, the blossoms of the +oleanders and the almond trees never more lovely. Not only was my own +canal alive with the stir and fragrance of the coming summer, but all +Venice bore the look of a bride who had risen from her bath, drawn +aside the misty curtain of the morning, and stood revealed in all her +loveliness. + +The sun shone everywhere, I say, but to me its brightest rays fell on a +garden full of fig trees and flat arbors interwoven with grapevines, +running down to the water where there was a dock and a gondola--two, +sometimes,--our own and Vittorio's--and particularly on a low, +two-story, flat-roofed house,--a kaleidoscope of color--pink, yellow, +and green, with three rooms and a portico, in which lived Vittorio, a +bird in a cage, a kitten-cat and the Rose of the Shipyards. + +It is a long way round to my canal through San Trovaso to the Zattere +and across the Giudecca to Ponte Lungo, and then along the edge of the +lagoon to this garden and dovecote, but that is the precise route +Luigi, who lived within a stone's throw of the couple, selected morning +after morning. He always had an excuse:--he had forgotten the big +bucket for my water cups, or the sail, or the extra chair; and would +the Signore mind going back for his other oar? Then again the tide was +bad, and after all we might as well row down the lagoon; it was easier +and really shorter with the wind against us--all nonsense, of course, +but I never objected. + +"Ah, the Signore and dear Luigi!" she would cry when she caught sight +of our gondola rounding into the landing. Then down the path she would +skip, the joyous embodiment of beauty and grace, and help me out, Luigi +following; and we would stroll up under the fig trees, and she would +begin showing me this and that new piece of furniture, or pot, or +kettle, or new bread knife, or scissors, or spoon, which Vittorio had +added to their store since my last visit. Or I would find them both +busy over the gondola,--he polishing his brasses and ferro, and she +rehanging the curtains of the tenda which she had washed and ironed +with her own hands. + +In truth it was a very happy little nest that was tucked away in one +corner of that old abandoned garden with its outlook on the broad water +and its connecting link with the row of neighbors' houses flanking the +side canal,--and no birds in or out of any nest in all Venice ever sang +so long and so continuously nor were there any others so genuinely +happy the livelong day and night as these two. + +Did I not know something of the curious mixture of love, jealousy, and +suspicion which goes into the making-up of an Italian, it would be hard +for me to believe that so lovely a structure as this dovecote, one +built with so much hope and alight with so much real happiness, could +ever come tumbling to the ground. We Anglo-Saxons flame up indignantly +when those we love are attacked, and we demand proofs. "Critica," that +bane of Venetian life--what this, that, or the other neighbor tattles +to this, that, and the other listener, we dismiss with a wave of the +hand, or with fingers tight clenched close to the offender's lips, or +by a blow in the face. Not so the Italian. He also blazes, but he will +stop and wonder when his anger has cooled; think of this and that; put +two and two together, and make ten of what is really only four. This is +what happened to the nest under the grapevines. + +I was in my own garden at the Britannia leaning over the marble +balcony, wondering what kept Luigi--it was past ten o'clock--when the +news reached me. I had caught sight of his white shirt and straw hat as +he swung out behind the Salute and headed straight toward me, and saw +from the way he gripped his oar and stretched his long body flat with +the force of each thrust, that he had a message of importance, even +before I saw his face. + +"A Dio, Signore!" he cried. "What do you think? Vittorio has cursed +Loretta, torn her wedding ring from her finger, and thrown it in her +face!" + +"Vittorio!" + +"Yes,--he will listen to nothing! He is a crazy fool and I have done +all I could. He believes every one of the lies that crab-catching brute +of a Francesco is telling. It would be over by to-night, but Loretta +does not take it like the others: she says nothing. You know her +eyes--they are not like our Giudecca girls. They are burning now like +two coals of fire, and her cheeks are like chalk." + +I had stepped into the gondola by this time, my first thought being how +best to straighten out the quarrel. + +"Now tell me, Luigi--speak slowly, so I do not miss a word. First, +where is Loretta?" + +"She was putting on her best clothes when I left--those she bought +herself. She will touch nothing Vittorio gave her. She is going back to +her mother in an hour." + +"But what happened? Has Francesco--?" + +"Francesco has not stopped one minute since the wedding. He has been +talking to the fish-people,--to everybody on the side street, saying +that Loretta was his old shoes that he left at his door, and the fool +Vittorio found them and put them on--that sort of talk." + +"And Vittorio believes it?" + +"He did not at first,--but twice Francesco came to see Loretta with +messages from her mother, and went sneaking off when Vittorio came up +in his boat, and then that night some one would tell him--'that fellow +meets Loretta every day;' that he was her old lover. These people on +the Giudecca do not like the San Giuseppe people, and there is always +jealousy. If Vittorio had married any one from his own quarter it would +have been different. You don't know these people, Signore,--how +devilish they can be and how stupid." + +"That was why he threw the ring in her face?" + +"No and yes. Yesterday was Sunday, and some people came to see her from +San Giuseppe, and they began to talk. I was not there; I did not get +there until it was all over, but my wife heard it. They were all in the +garden, and one word led to another, and he taunted her with seeing +Francesco, and she laughed, and that made him furious; and then he said +he had heard her mother was a nobody; and then some one spoke up and +said that was true--fools all. And then Loretta, she drew herself up +straight and asked who it was had said so, and a woman's voice +came--'Francesco,--he told me--' and then Vittorio cried--'And you meet +him here. Don't deny it! And you love him, too!--' and then the fool +sprang at her and caught her hand and tore the ring from her finger and +spat on it and threw it on the ground. He is now at his father's house." + +"And she said nothing, Luigi?" The story seemed like some horrible +dream. + +"No, nor shed a tear. All she did was to keep repeating--'Francesco! +Francesco! Francesco!' I got there at daylight this morning and have +been there ever since. I told her I was coming for you. She was sitting +in a chair when I went in,--bolt up; she had not been in her bed. She +seems like one in a trance--looked at me and held out her hand. I tried +to talk to her and tell her it was all a lie, but she only +answered--'Ask Francesco,--it is all Francesco,--ask Francesco.' Hurry, +Signore,--we will miss her if we go to her house. We will go at once to +our canal and wait for her. They have heard nothing down there at San +Giuseppe, and you can talk to her without being interrupted, and then +I'll get hold of Vittorio. This way, Signore." + +I had hardly reached the water landing of my canal ten minutes later +when I caught sight of her, coming directly toward me, head up, her +lips tight-set, her black shawl curving and floating with every +movement of her body--(nothing so wonderfully graceful and nothing so +expressive of the wearer's moods as these black shawls of the +Venetians). She wore her gala dress--the one in which she was +married--white muslin with ribbons of scarlet, her wonderful hair in a +heap above her forehead, her long gold earrings glinting in the +sunshine. All the lovelight had died out of her eyes. In its place were +two deep hollows rimmed about by dark lines, from out which flashed two +points of cold steel light. + +I sprang from my gondola and held out my hand: + +"Sit down, Loretta, and let me talk to you." + +She stopped, looked at me in a dazed sort of way, as if she was trying +to focus my face so as to recall me to her memory, and said in a +determined way: + +"No, let me pass. It's too late for all that, Signore. I am--" + +"But wait until you hear me." + +"I will hear nothing until I find Francesco." + +"You must not go near him. Get into the gondola and let Luigi and me +take you home." + +A dry laugh rose to her lips. "Home! There is no home any more. See! My +ring is gone! Francesco is the one I want--now---NOW! He knows I am +coming,--I sent him word. Don't hold me, Signore,--don't touch me!" + +She was gone before I could stop her, her long, striding walk +increasing almost to a run, her black shawl swaying about her limbs as +she hurried toward her old home at the end of the quay. Luigi started +after her, but I called him back. Nothing could be done until her fury, +or her agony, had spent itself. These volcanoes are often short-lived. +We looked after her until she had reached the door and had flung +herself across the threshold. Then I sent Luigi for my easel and began +work. + +The events that have made the greatest impression upon me all my life +have been those which have dropped out of the sky,--the unexpected, the +incomprehensible,--the unnecessary--the fool things--the damnably +idiotic things. + +First we heard a cry that caused Luigi to drop canvas and easel, and +sent us both flying down the quay toward the rookery. It came from +Loretta's mother;--she was out on the sidewalk tearing her hair; +calling on God; uttering shriek after shriek. The quay and bridge were +a mass of people--some looking with staring eyes, the children hugging +their mothers' skirts. Two brawny fishermen were clearing the way to +the door. Luigi and I sprang in behind them, and entered the house. + +On the stone floor of the room lay the body of Francesco, his head +stretched back, one hand clutching the bosom of his shirt. Against the +wall stood Loretta; not a quiver on her lips; ghastly white; calm,--the +least excited person in the room. + +"And you killed him!" I cried. + +"Yes,--he thought I came to kiss him--I did, WITH THIS!" and she tossed +a knife on the table. + +The days that followed were gray days for Luigi and me. All the light +and loveliness were gone from my canal. + +They took Loretta to the prison next the Bridge of Sighs and locked her +up in one of the mouldy cells below the water line--dark, dismal +pockets where, in the old days, men died of terror. + +Vittorio, Luigi, and I met there the next morning. I knew the chief +officer, and he had promised me an interview. Vittorio was +crying,--rubbing his knuckles in his eyes,--utterly broken up and +exhausted. He and Luigi had spent the night together. An hour before, +the two had stood at Francesco's bedside in the hospital of San Paulo. +Francesco was still alive, and with Father Garola bending over him had +repeated his confession to them both. He was madly in love with her, he +moaned, and had spread the report hoping that Vittorio would cast her +off, and, having no other place to go, Loretta would come back to him. +At this Vittorio broke into a rage and would have strangled the dying +man had not the attendant interfered. All this I learned from Luigi as +we waited for the official. + +"This is a frightful ending to a happy life--" I began when the officer +appeared. "Let them talk to each other for just a few moments. It can +do no harm." + +The official shook his head. "It is against orders, Signore, I cannot. +He can see her when she is brought up for examination." + +"They will both have lost their senses by that time," I pleaded. "Can't +you think of some way? I have known her from a child. Perhaps an order +from headquarters might be of some use." We were standing, at the time, +in a long corridor ending in a door protected by an iron grating. This +led to the underground cells. + +The chief fastened his eyes on me for an instant, turned abruptly, +called to an attendant, gave an order in a low voice and, with the +words to Vittorio--"You are not to speak to her, remember," motioned +the sobbing man toward the grating. Luigi and I followed. + +She came slowly out of the shadows, first the drawn face peering ahead, +as if wondering why she had been sent for, then the white crumpled +dress, and then the dark eyes searching the gloom of the corridor. +Vittorio had caught sight of her and was clinging to the grating, his +body shaking, his tears blinding him. + +The girl gave a half-smothered cry, darted forward and covered +Vittorio's hands with her own. Some whispered word must have followed, +for the old light broke over her face and she would have cried out for +joy had not Luigi cautioned her. For a moment the two stood with +fingers intertwined, their bowed foreheads kept apart by the cold +grating. Then the boy, straining his face between the bars, as if to +reach her lips, loosened one hand, took something from his pocket and +slipped it over her finger. + +It was her wedding ring. + + + +IV + +Summer has faded, the gold of autumn has turned to brown, and the raw, +cold winds of winter have whirled the dead leaves over rookeries, quay, +and garden. The boats rock at their tethers and now and then a sea gull +darts through the canal and sweeps on to the lagoon. In the narrow +opening fronting the broad waters lawless waves quarrel and clash, +forcing their way among the frightened ripples of San Giuseppe, ashy +gray under the lowering sky. + +All these months a girl has clung to an iron grating or has lain on a +pallet in one corner of her cell. Once in a while she presses her lips +to a ring on her left hand, her face lighting up. Sometimes she breaks +out into a song, continuing until the keeper checks her. + +Then spring comes. + +And with it the painter from over the sea. + +All the way from Milan as far as Verona, and beyond, there have been +nothing but blossoms,--masses of blossoms,--oleander, peach, and almond. + +When the train reaches Mestre and the cool salt air fans his cheek, he +can no longer keep his seat, so eager is he to catch the first glimpse +of his beloved city,--now a string of pearls on the bosom of the lagoon. + +Luigi has the painter's hand before his feet can touch the platform. + +"Good news, Signore!" he laughs, patting my shoulder. "She is free!" + +"Loretta!" + +"Yes,--she and Vittorio are back in their garden. Borodini told the +whole story to the good Queen Mother when she came at Easter, and the +king pardoned her." + +"Pardoned her! And Francesco dead!" + +"Dead! No such good luck, Signore,--that brute of a crab-fisher got +well!" + + + + +A COAT OF RED LEAD + + +I + +My offices are on the top floor of a high building overlooking the East +River and the harbor beyond--not one of those skyscrapers punctured +with windows all of the same size, looking from a distance like huge +waffles set up on end--note the water-line of New York the next time +you cross the ferry and see if you don't find the waffles--but an +old-fashioned sort of a high building of twenty years ago--old as the +Pyramids now, with a friendly janitor who comes to me when I send for +him instead of my going to his "Office" when he sends for me; friendly +elevator boys who poke their heads from out their iron cages and wait +five seconds until I reach them, and an obliging landlord who lets me +use his telephone. + +Mawkum, my chief draftsman--when you have only one it is best to label +him "Chief" to your clients; they think the others are off building +bridges for foreign governments, or lunching at Delmonico's with +railroad presidents--my chief draftsman, I say, occupies the room +opening into mine. His outlook is a brick wall decorated with windows, +behind which can be seen various clerks poring over huge ledgers, a +section of the roof topped with a chimney, and in the blue perspective +the square, squat tower of the Produce Exchange in which hangs a clock. +Both of these connecting rooms open on the same corridor, a convenient +arrangement when clients wish to escape without being seen, or for the +concealing of bidders who are getting plans and specifications for the +same tenders, especially when two of them happen to turn up at the same +moment. + +Mawkum manages this, and with such adroitness that I have often seen +clients, under the impression that the drafting-room was full, sit +patiently in my office and take their turn while he quietly munches his +sandwich behind closed panels--an illusion sustained by a loud +"Good-morning" from my chief addressed to the circumambient air, +followed by the slamming of the corridor door. When I remonstrate with +Mawkum, insisting that such subterfuges are beneath the dignity of the +office, he contends that they help business, and in proof quotes the +old story of the unknown dentist who compelled a suffering prince to +call the next day at noon, claiming that his list was full, when +neither man, woman nor child had been in his chair for over a +week--fame and fortune being his ever after. + +When Mawkum gets tired of inspecting the brick wall and the industrious +clerks and the face of the clock, he strolls leisurely into my room, +plants himself at my window--this occurs during one of those calms that +so often come to an office between contracts--and spends hours in +contemplating the view. + +To me the stretch of sky and water, with its dividing band of roof, +tower and wharf, stretching from the loop of steel--that spider-web of +the mighty--to the straight line of the sea, is a never-ending delight. +In the early morning its broken outline is softened by a veil of silver +mist embroidered with puffs of steam; at midday the glare of light +flashing from the river's surface makes silhouettes of the +ferry-shuttles threading back and forth weaving the city's life; at +twilight the background of purple is bathed in the glory of the sunset, +while at night myriads of fireflies swarm and settle, tracing in +pencillings of fire the plan of the distant town. + +Mawkum, being commercially disposed, sees none of these things; his +gaze is fixed on the panting tugs towing chains of canal boats; on the +great floats loaded with cars and the stately steamers slowing down +opposite their docks. Today he develops an especial interest. + +"That's the Tampico in from Caracas and the Coast," he says, leaning +across my desk, his fat hand resting on my letter file. "She's loaded +pretty deep. Hides and tallow, I guess. 'Bout time we heard from that +Moccador Lighthouse, isn't it? Lawton's last letter said we could look +for his friend in a month--about due now. Wish he'd come." And he +yawned wearily. + +Mawkum's yawn indicated the state of his mind. He had spent the +previous three weeks in elaborating the plans and specifications for a +caisson to be used under a bridge pier--our client assuring him that he +had, to use his own words, "a dead sure thing on the award." When the +bids were opened, Mawkum congratulated him on his foresight and offered +to attend the funeral in a body, the client's bid being some thirty per +cent too high. Little episodes like this add a touch of gayety to the +hours spent in the top of the high building. + +Mawkum's yawn over--it is generally in three sections, but can +sometimes be curtailed--I interrupted hurriedly with: + +"What sort of a structure is it?" I knew, but I wanted some other +employment for his mouth. + +"First order, screw pile, about a hundred and twenty feet high, stuck +on a coral reef at the mouth of the harbor. 'Bout like our Fowey Rocks, +off the Florida coast. She's backing in." His eyes were still on the +Tampico, the floes of North River ice hemming her in on all sides. +"Passengers'll be off in an hour. Wonder how they like our +climate--little chilly for pajamas." + +Here Mawkum strolled into his room and began overhauling the contents +of a rack of drawings piled one on top of the other like cordwood, +labelled: "Screw Pile Structures." + +The next morning there came a timid knock at Mawkum's door--the knock +of a child with matches to sell, or of one of those dear sisters who +collect for the poor. At a second summons, a little louder than the +first, the chief, with an impatient air, slid from the high stool +facing his drawing board, and threw wide the door. + +I craned my head and discovered a small, ivory-tinted individual in a +Panama hat, duck trousers and patent-leather shoes. Wrapped about his +shrivelled frame, one red-lined end tossed gallantly over his shoulder, +was an enormous Spanish capa. This hid every part of his body from his +chin to the knees of his cotton ducks. From where I sat he looked like +a conspirator in the play, or the assassin who lies in wait up the dark +alley. Once inside he wrinkled his shoulders with the shivering +movement of a horse dislocating a fly, dropped the red-lined end of the +capa, removed his Panama and began a series of genuflections which +showed me at once that he had been born among a people who imbibed +courtesy with their mother's, or their cocoanut's, milk. + +"I am look' for the Grandioso Engineer," said the visitor. "I am Senor +Garlicho--" Then a shade of uncertainty crossed his face: Mawkum was +still staring at him. "It is a mistake then, perhaps? I have a letter +from Senor Law-TON. Is it not to the great designer of lighthouse which +I speak?" This came with more bows--one almost to the floor. + +The mention of Lawton's name brought Mawkum to his senses. He placed +his fat hand on his vest, crooked his back, and without the slightest +allusion to the fact that the original and only Grandioso occupied the +adjoining room, motioned the visitor to a seat and opened the letter. + +I thought now it was about time I should assert my rights. Pushing back +my chair, I walked rapidly through my own and Mawkum's room and held +out my hand. + +"Ah, Senor, I am delighted to meet you," I broke out in Spanish. (Here +I had Mawkum--he did not understand a word.) "We have been expecting +you; our mutual friend, Mr. Lawton, has given me notice of your +coming--and how is the Senor and his family?" And in a few minutes we +three were seated at my desk with Mawkum unrolling plans, making +sketches on a pad, figuring the cost of this and that and the other +thing; I translating for Mawkum such statements as I thought he ought +to know, thus restoring the discipline and dignity of the office--it +never being wise to have more than one head to a concern. + +This partial victory was made complete when his ivory-tinted Excellency +loosened his waistcoat, dived into his inside pocket and, producing a +package of letters tied with a string, the envelopes emblazoned with +the arms and seal of the Republic of Moccador, asked if we might be +alone. I immediately answered, both in Spanish and English, that I had +no secrets from Senor Mawkum, but this did not prove satisfactory and +so Mawkum, with a wink to me, withdrew. + +Mawkum gone, the little man--it is inconceivable how small and withered +he was; how yellow, how spidery in many of his motions, especially with +his fingers stained with cigarettes, how punctilious, how polite, how +soft and insinuating his voice, and how treacherous his smile--a smile +that smiled all alone by itself, while the cunning, glittering eyes +recorded an entirely different brain suggestion--Mawkum gone, I say, +the little man examined the door to see that it was tight shut, glanced +furtively about the room, resumed his seat, slowly opened the largest +and most flaringly decorated envelope and produced a document signed +with a name and titles that covered half the page. Then he began to +talk at the rate of fifty words to the second; like the rattle of a +ticker in a panic: of Alvarez, the saviour of his country--his +friend!--his partner; of the future of Moccador under his wise and +beneficent influence, the Lighthouse being one of the first +improvements; of its being given to him to erect because of his loyalty +to the cause, and to the part he had taken in overturning that despot, +the Tyrant Paramba, who had ruled the republic with a rod of iron. Now +it was all over--Paramba was living in the swamps, hunted like a dog. +When he was caught--and they expected it every day--he would be brought +to the capital, San Juan, in chains--yes, Senor, in chains--and put to +work on the roads, so that everybody could spit upon him--traitor! +Beast, that he was! And there would be other lighthouses--the whole +coast was to be as light as day. Senor Law-TON had said he could speak +with perfect confidence--he was doing so, trusting to the honor of the +Grandiose--the most distinguished--etc., etc. And now--this in a +summing-up voice with a slower movement, about twenty words to the +second--would the Grandioso go in as a partner in these ventures? The +income he could assure me would be so fixed that the light dues alone +would pay for the structure in two years--think of it, Senor, in two +years--perhaps less!--and forever after we could both sit down and +receive a small fortune, I by the Tampico in drafts signed by his +Excellency, and he in his own hacienda surrounded by the patriots who +honored him and the wife and children he adored. + +At mention of the partnership a vague, cloudy expression crossed my +face; my companion caught it, and continued: + +Or (again the voice slowed down) I would be paid for the structure on +its erection by me on the reef. + +Again my eyes wandered, and again he took the cue: + +Or--if that was not satisfactory--he would be willing to pay for the +ironwork alone as soon as it arrived in the harbor of San Juan. + +My Spanish is more like an old uniform that is rubbed up for a parade +and then put away in camphor. Much of his talk was therefore lost on +me; but the last sentences were as clear as if they had dropped from +the lips of my old teacher, Senor Morales. + +Half-rising from my chair, I placed my hand over my shirt-front and +thanked his Excellency for his confidence--really one of the greatest +compliments that had ever been paid me in all my professional career. +To be at once the partner of two such distinguished caballeros as +General Alvarez, the saviour of his country, and my distinguished +guest, was an honor that few men could resist, but--BUT--here I picked +up a lead pencil and a pad--BUT--the only way I could permit myself to +rob him of his just desserts would be--here I traced a few lines on the +pad--would be--my voice now became impressive--to receive one-third +when it was erected in the yard in Brooklyn, and the balance on +delivery of the bills of lading to his agent; payments to be made by +his distinguished Excellency's bankers in New York. + +If the modification of terms in any way disappointed the gentleman from +San Juan, my closest observation of his smile and glance failed to +detect it. He merely quivered his shoulders--a sort of plural +shrug--rolled his cigarette tighter between his thumb and forefinger, +remarked that the memoranda were entirely satisfactory, and folding the +paper slid it carefully into his pocket; then with a series of salaams +that reminded me of a Mohammedan spreading a prayer rug, and an "A +Dios, Senor," the ivory-tinted individual withdrew. + +A week later Mawkum, carrying a tin case addressed to his sun-dried +Excellency, passed up the gangplank of the Tampico; this he placed in +that gentleman's hands. Inside its soldered top were the plans and +specifications of a First Order Light, to be made of iron, to be +properly packed, and to have three coats of red lead before +shipment--together with a cross-section of foundation to be placed on +the reef known as "La Garra de Lobo"--The Claw of the Wolf--outside the +harbor of San Juan--all at the risk of his Supreme Excellency, Senor +Tomas Correntes Garlicho, of the Republic of Moccador, South +America--the price of the ironwork to hold good for three months. + +On his return to the office Mawkum took up his position once more at my +window, waited until the Tampico, the case and his Excellency were well +on their way to Sandy Hook and started in on other work. The next day +the incident, like so many similar ventures--his racks were full of +just such estimates--was forgotten. If any of the bread thus cast upon +the waters came back, the chief would be glad, and so would the +Grandioso; if not, we were both willing to cut a fresh slice to keep it +company. + + + +II + +Four months passed. The ice was out of the river; the steam heat had +been turned off in the high building and the two time-worn awnings had +been fixed to my windows by the obliging janitor. The Tampico had come +and gone, and had come again. Its arrivals, and departures were, as +usual, always commented upon by Mawkum, generally in connection with +"That Bunch of Dried Garlic," that being the irreverent way in which he +spoke of his ivory-tinted Excellency. Otherwise the lighthouse, and all +that pertained to it, had become ancient history. + +One lovely spring morning--one of those warm mornings when every window +and door is wide open to get the breeze from Sandy Hook and +beyond--another visitor stepped into Mawkum's room. He brought no +letters of introduction, nor did he confine himself to his mother +tongue, although his nationality was as apparent as that of his +predecessor. Neither did he possess a trace of Garlicho's affability or +polish. On the contrary, he conducted himself like a muleteer, and +spoke with the same sort of brutal authority. + +And the differences did not stop here. Garlicho was shrivelled and +sun-dried. This man was round and plump--plump as a stuffed olive +fished from a jar of oil, and as shiny; dark-skinned, with a pair of +heavy eyebrows that met over a stub of a nose ending in a knob; two +keen rat eyes, a mouth hidden by a lump of a mustache black as tar, and +a sagging, flabby chin which slunk into his collar. Next came a +shirt-front soiled and crumpled, and then the rest of him in a suit of +bombazine. + +"You designed a lighthouse some months ago for Mr. Garlicho, of San +Juan," he blurted out with hardly an accent. "I arrived this morning by +the Tampico. My name is Carlos Onativia." And he laid a thin, elongated +piece of cardboard on Mawkum's desk. + +Only the arrival of a South American fresh from the Republic of +Moccador, with a spade designed to dig up a long-buried treasure could +have robbed Mawkum of his habitual caution of always guarding plans and +estimates from outsiders--a custom which was really one of the +fundamental laws of the office. The indiscretion was no doubt helped by +the discovery that the owner of the spade spoke English, a fact which +freed him at once of all dependence on the superior lingual attainments +possessed by the Grandioso in the adjoining room. + +Down came the duplicate blue-prints without a word of protest or any +further inquiry, and before I could reach the inquirer's side and be +properly introduced--I did not want to interfere too abruptly--Mawkum +had not only unrolled the elevation and cross-sections, but had handed +out a memorandum showing the estimate of cost. + +Onativia acknowledged my presence with a slight bob of his head, +loosened the upper button of his coat, fished up a pair of glasses, +stuck them on the knob end of his nose, and began devouring the plans +in a way that showed both of us that it was not the first time he had +looked over a set of blue-prints. + +"This estimate is for the ironwork alone," the stranger said, "and is, +as you see, good for three months. The time, as you will note, has +expired. Do you now ask for an additional sum, or will the price +stand?" All this in the tone of a Tombs lawyer cross-examining a +witness. + +Mawkum murmured that, as there had been no advance in the cost of the +raw material, the price would stand. + +"Very well. And now, what, in your judgment, should be added for the +cost of erection?" + +"Can't say," answered Mawkum; "don't know the coast or kind of labor, +or the bottom of the reef--may be coral, may be hard-pan, may be sand. +Do YOU know?" + +"Yes--the coast is an ugly one, except four months in the year. Site is +twelve miles from San Juan, exposed to the rake of the sea; bottom +coral, I understand; labor cheap and good for nothing, and appliances +none--except what can be shipped from here." This came with the air of +one who knew. + +I now took charge of the negotiations: + +"We have refused to erect the structure or be responsible for it after +it leaves our dock. We told Senor Garlicho so." + +Onativia lowered his chin, arched his eyebrows and looked at me over +his glasses. + +"I don't want you to erect it," he said in a purring tone with a +patronizing strain through it. "I'll do that. What I want to know is +what it would cost HERE? That's what I came to New York to find out." + +"Has Senor Garlicho been awarded the contract?" I asked. It was useless +to distribute any more bread upon the waters; certainly not on the +ripples washing the shores of Moccador. If there were any business in +sight I could very easily give either one of them an approximate cost; +if there were none the bakery was closed. + +"No, Senor Garlicho has NOT been awarded the contract. I am here to +keep the affair alive. If I had thought it necessary I would have +brought a certified check with me drawn to your order, which I would +have handed you with my card. The standing of your firm prevented my +doing so. This is business, and I want to get back home as quick as +possible. Our coast is a dangerous one and the loss of life increases +every year. Do you want this matter hung up for six weeks until we can +communicate with Mr. Garlicho? Every hour's delay in putting the light +on the Lobo means that many more deaths." As he spoke a peculiar smile +struggled from under his black dab of a mustache, got as far as the +base of his nose and there collapsed. + +My duty was now clear. Senor Garlicho, for some reason unknown to me, +had waited until his option had expired and had then sent Onativia in +his place. This wiped out the past and made a new deal necessary--one +which included the price of erection on the reef, a point which had not +been raised in the former negotiation. + +"All right," I said, "you shall have the estimate. What you want is the +cost of erecting a structure like the one here in the plans. Well, if +it was to be put on our Florida coast, where I think the conditions are +somewhat similar to those you describe, I would advise you to add about +one hundred thousand dollars to the cost of the ironwork." + +"Is that safe?" Again the smile worked itself loose. + +"Yes," I replied, "if you don't lose your plant too often by bad +weather. We have warnings of our coast storms and can provide against +them. I don't know anything about yours--what are they like?" + +"They come suddenly and without warning," he rejoined; "typhoons, +generally, with the tiles rattling off the roofs and the natives +hugging the cocoanut trees." With this he turned to the plans again. +"Better add another twenty thousand--I want to be safe," he said, in a +tone that showed me he had at last made up his mind. + +I added it, marking the sum on the memorandum which Mawkum had given +him. + +"Now, please put that in writing over your signature. I'll call +to-morrow at ten for the document. Good-day." + +When he was well down the corridor--we waited really until we heard the +down-chug of the elevator--Mawkum looked at me and gave a low whistle. + +"Add another twenty! What do you think is up? That Bunch of Garlic is +working some funny business, or he wouldn't have sent that brigand up +here." + +I ruminated for a moment, walked to the window and took in the brick +wall, the clerks and the clock tower. Frankly, I did not know what +Garlicho was up to. It was the first time that any passenger by the +Tampico, or any other steamer, from any quarter of the globe, had asked +either Mawkum or myself to add one penny to the cost of anything. The +effort heretofore had been to cut down each item to the last cent. Was +the ivory-tinted gentleman going to build the lighthouse at his own +expense out of loyalty to President Alvarez, the saviour of his +country, and then donate it to the Government, using our estimate to +prove the extent of his generosity? Or was there a trick somewhere? I +decided to sound Senor Onativia the next morning, and find out. + +I had not long to wait. He arrived on the minute, bobbed to Mawkum, +drew a chair to my desk and squared, or rather rounded, his body in +front of me. + +"I will now tell you what I omitted to say yesterday," he began. "When +an order comes for this lighthouse--and it will arrive by the next +steamer--it will not be signed by Senor Garlicho, but by me. I have +reasons for this which I cannot explain, and which are not necessary +for you to know. The ironwork--all you will have to furnish--will also +be shipped in my name. With the order will be sent a letter introducing +my bankers, who will call upon you at your convenience, and who will +pay the amounts in the way you desire--one-third on the signing of the +contract (one of the firm will act as my agent), one-third on erection +and inspection of the ironwork properly put together in the yard, and +the balance on delivery to them of the bills of lading. Is that quite +satisfactory?" + +I bowed my head in answer. + +"And have you signed your estimate showing what you consider to be a +fair price for both the lighthouse itself and for the cost of its +erection on the Lobo Reef?" + +"Yes; there it is," and I pointed to the document lying on my desk. +"And now one word, please. When did you last see Mr. Lawton? He's our +agent, you know, and you must have met him in connection with this +matter. When Senor Garlicho arrived he brought us a letter from him." + +Onativia's lips curled slightly as he recognized the hidden meaning of +the inquiry, but his expression never changed. + +"I have never seen him. If I had I should not have wasted my time in +getting a letter from him or from anybody else. As to Senor Garlicho, +his time has expired; he has not asked for its renewal, and so far as +this deal is concerned he does not count. I am here, as I told you, to +keep the affair alive. I would have come sooner, but I have been away +from the city of San Juan for months. Most of us who have opinions of +our own have been away from San Juan--some for years. San Juan has not +been a healthy place for men who believe in Paramba." + +"And do you?" + +"Absolutely. So do thousands of our citizens." + +"You don't seem to agree with Senor Garlicho, then. He thought your +former president, Paramba, a tyrant. As for President Alvarez, he +looked upon him as the saviour of his country." + +The lips had full play now, the smile of contempt wrinkling up to his +eyelids. + +"Saviour of his country! Saviour of his pocket! Pardon me; I am not +here to discuss the polities of our people. Is this your estimate?" And +he reached over and picked it from my desk. "Ah, yes: forty thousand +dollars for the ironwork; one hundred and twenty thousand for the +erection on the Lobo Reef; one hundred and sixty thousand in all. Thank +you." Here he tucked the paper in his pocket and rose from his seat. +"You will hear from me in a month, perhaps earlier. Good-day." And he +waddled out. + +The return of the Tampico six weeks later brought another South +American consignment. This was a roll of plans concealed in a tin +case--the identical package which Mawkum had handed the "Bunch of Dried +Garlic" months before, together with a document stamped, restamped and +stamped again, containing an order in due form, signed "Carlos +Onativia," for a lighthouse to be erected on the "Garra de Lobo"--this +last was in red ink--with shipping directions, etc., etc. + +With it came the clerk of the bankers (he had the case under his arm), +a reputable concern within a stone's throw of my office, who signed the +contract and paid the first instalment. + +Then followed the erection of the ironwork in the Brooklyn yard; its +inspection by the engineer appointed by the bankers; its dismemberment +and final coat of red lead--each tie-rod and beam red as sticks of +sealing-wax--its delivery, properly bundled and packed, aboard a +sailing vessel bound for San Juan, and the payment of the last +instalment. + +This closed the transaction, so far as we were concerned. + +A year passed--two of them, in fact--during which time no news of any +kind reached us of the lighthouse. Mawkum kept the duplicate blue-print +of the elevation tacked on the wall over his desk to show our clients +the wide range of our business, and I would now and then try to +translate the newspapers which Lawton sent by every mail. These would +generally refer to the dissatisfaction felt by many of the Moccadorians +over the present government, one editorial, as near as I could make +out, going so far as to hint that a secret movement was on foot to oust +the "Usurper" Alvarez and restore the old government under Paramba. No +reference was ever made to the lighthouse. We knew, of course, that it +had arrived, for the freight had been paid: this we learned from the +brokers who shipped it; but whether it was still in storage at San Juan +or was flashing red and white--a credit to Onativia's energy and a +godsend to incoming shipping--was still a mystery. + +Mawkum would often laugh whenever Garlicho's or Onativia's name was +mentioned, and once in a while we would discuss the difficulties they +must have encountered in the erection of the structure in the open sea. +One part of the transaction we could never understand, and that was why +Garlicho had allowed the matter to lapse if the lighthouse was needed +so badly, and what were his reasons for sending Onativia to renew the +negotiations instead of coming himself. + +All doubts on this and every other point were set at rest one fine +morning by the arrival of a sunburned gentleman with gray +side-whiskers, a man I had not seen for years. + +"Why, Lawton!" I cried, grasping his hand. "This is a surprise. Came by +the Tampico, did you? Oh, but I am glad to see you! Here, draw up a +chair. But stop--not a word until I ask you some questions about that +lighthouse." + +The genial Scotchman broke out into a loud laugh. + +"Don't laugh! Listen!" I said to him. "Tell me, why didn't Garlicho go +on with the work, and what do you know about Onativia?" + +Lawton leaned back in his chair and closed one eye in merriment. + +"Garlicho did not go on with the work, my dear friend, because he was +breaking stone in the streets of San Juan with a ball and chain around +his ankle. When Paramba came back to power he was tried for high +treason and condemned to be shot. He saved his neck by turning over the +lighthouse papers to Onativia. As to Carlos Onativia, he is a product +of the soil. Started life as a coolie boss in a copper mine, became +manager and owner, built the bridge over the Quitos River and the +railroad up the Andes; is the brightest man in Moccador and the brains +of the Paramba Government. One part of his duty is to keep the people +satisfied, and he does it every single time; another is to divide with +Paramba every dollar he makes." + +"But the lighthouse!" I interrupted. "Is it up? You must have passed it +on your way out of the harbor." + +"Up? Yes, and lighted every night--up in the public garden in San Juan +among the palms and bananas. The people eat ice-cream on the first +platform and the band plays Sundays in the balcony under the boat +davits. The people are wild about it--especially the women. It was the +last coat of red lead that did it." + +And again the office rang with Lawton's laugh. + + + + +MISS MURDOCK,--"SPECIAL" + + +A row of gas jets hooded by green paper shades lighting a long table at +which sit half a dozen men in their shirt sleeves writing like mad; +against the wall other men,--one drawing Easter lilies, another +blocking in the background around a photograph, a third pasting +clippings on sheets of brown paper. Every few minutes a bare-headed boy +in a dirty apron, with smudged face and ink-stained fingers, bounds +into the stifling, smoke-laden room, skirts the long table, dives +through a door labelled "City Editor," remains an instant and bounds +out again, his hands filled with long streamers of proof. + +In the opening and shutting of the swinging door a round-bodied, +round-headed man in his shirt sleeves comes into view. Covering his +forehead, shielding his eyes from the glare of the overhead gas jet, is +a half-moon of green leather held in place by strings tied behind his +ears. The line of shadow caused by this shade makes a blank space about +his eyes and brings into relief his pale, flabby cheeks, hard, straight +mouth, and coarse chin. Only when he lifts his head to give some order, +or holds the receiver of the telephone to his ear, can his eyes be +exactly located. Then they shine like a cat's in a cellar,--gray, +white, gray again, with a glint of metallic green,--always the same +distance apart, never wavering, never blinking. Overstrung, overworked, +nervous men, working at high pressure, spurred by the merciless lash of +passing minutes, have these eyes. So do cornered beasts fighting for +air and space. Eleven-thirty had just been tolled by the neighboring +clock; deliverance would come when the last form of the morning edition +was made up. Until then safety could only be found in constant attack. + +Outside the city editor's office, sprawled over a pile of mail sacks, +between the long table and the swinging door, lay Joe Quinn, +man-of-all-work,--boy, in fact, for he was but nineteen, big for his +age, with arms and legs like cordwood and a back straight and hard as a +plank. Joe's duty was to keep his eyes peeled, his ears open, and his +legs in working order. If a reporter wanted a fresh pad, a cup of +water, or a file of papers, Joe brought them; sometimes he foraged for +sandwiches and beer,--down four pair of stairs, across the street into +a cellar and up again; sometimes he carried messages; oftener he made +an elevator of himself, running between the presses in the basement and +the desk behind the swinging door. Fifty trips in a single night had +not been an unusual tally. + +To the inmates of the room the boy was known as "Joe" or "Quinn" or +"Sonny." To the man with the half-moon shade over his eyes he was "Say" +or "That Damned Kid." High-strung, high-pressure editors omit the +unnecessary, condensation being part of their creed. + +Up in the Franconia Notch, in a little hollow under White Face and +below Bog Eddy, Joe had been known as "Jonathan's boy," Jonathan being +the name his father went by, the last half never being used,--there +being but one "Jonathan"--the one whom everybody loved. + +The cabin was still standing, where Joe was born,--a slant of logs with +a stone chimney and some out-buildings; and his old father was still +alive, and so was his mother and his little "Sis." Summer mornings the +smoke would curl straight up from the rude stone chimney, catch a +current of air from the valley, and stretch its blue arms toward the +tall hemlocks covering the slope of the mountain. Winter mornings it +lay flat, buffeted by the winds, hiding itself later on among the +trees. Joe knew these hemlocks,--loved them,--had hugged them many a +time, laying his plump, ruddy cheek against the patches of cool moss +velveting their sides. "Nothin' like trees," his old father had told +him,--"real human when ye know 'em." + +To-night, as he lay stretched out on the mail sacks, his ears +unlatched, listening for the sound of the night city editor's bell, or +his gruff "Say, you!" his mind kept reverting to their bigness and +wide, all embracing, protecting arms. A letter from Jonathan received +that morning, and still tucked away in his inside pocket, had revived +these memories. + +"They've started to cut roads, son," it read. "I was out gummin' +yesterday and got up under White Face. Won't be nothing left if they +keep on. Cy Hawkins sold his timber land to them last winter and +they've histed up a biler on wheels and a succular saw, and hev cleared +off purty nigh every tree clean from the big windslash down to the East +Branch. It ain't going into building stuff; they're sending it down to +Plymouth to a pulp mill and grinding it up to print newspapers on, so +the head man told me. Guess you know all about it, but it was news to +me. I told him it was a gol-darn-shame to serve a tree so, being as how +trees had feelings same as men, but he laughed and said it warn't none +of my bizness, and I guess it ain't. Beats all what some folks will do +for money." + +Joe thought so too,--had been thinking so ever since he broke the seal +of the letter that the postmaster at Woodstock had directed for his +father. "Dad's right; trees have feelings," he kept repeating to +himself. And, as to being human, he could recall a dozen that he had +talked to and that had talked back to him ever since he could remember. +His father had taught him their language on the long days when he had +trailed behind carrying the gum bag or had hidden in the bushes while +the old man wormed himself along, his rifle in the hollow of his arm, +or when the two lay stretched out before their camp fire. + +"Dogs and trees, my son, will never go back on ye like some folks I've +hearn tell of. Allers find 'em the same. See that yaller birch over +thar?--Well, I've knowed that birch over forty-two year and he ain't +altered a mite, 'cept his clothes ain't as decent as they was, and his +shoes is give out 'round the roots. You kin see whar the bark's busted +'long 'round his toes,--but his heart's all right and he's alive and +peart, too. You'll find him fust tree out in the spring,--sometimes +'fore the sugar sap's done runnin'. Purty soon, if you watch him same's +me, ye'll see him begin to shake all over,--kind o' shivery with some +inside fun; then comes the buds and, fust thing ye know, he gives a +little see-saw or two in the warm air and out busts the leaves, and he +a laughin' fit to kill. Maybe the birds ain't glad, and maybe them +squirrels that's been snowed up all winter with their noses out o' that +crotch, ain't jes' holdin' their sides, and maybe, too, them little +sunbeams don't like to sneak in and go to sleep on the bark all silvery +and shinin' like the ribbons on Sis's hat! They're human, them trees +is, I tell ye, son,--real human! + +"And ye want to treat 'em with some perliteness, too they're older'n +anything 'round here 'cept the rocks; and they've been holdin' up the +dignity of this valley, too,--kind o' 'sponsible for things. That's +another thing ye mustn't forgit. The fust folks that come travellin' +through this notch--'bout time the Injins quit,--took notice on 'em, I +tell ye. That's what they come for. Bald Top and White Face was all +right, but it was the trees that knocked 'em silly. That's what you kin +read in the book school-teacher has, and that's true. And see how they +treat their brothers that git toppled over,--by a windslash, maybe, or +lightnin' or a landslide, or some such cussed thing, givin' 'em a +shoulder to lean on same as you would help a cripple. When they're +clean down and done for it ain't more'n a year or two 'fore they got +'em kivered all over with leaves, and then they git tergether and hev a +quiltin' party and purty soon they're all over blankets o' green moss, +and the others jes stand 'round solemn and straight like's if they was +mountin' guard over their graves. + +"It's wicked to kill most anything 'less ye got some use--and a good +one, too,--for the meat, but it's a durned sight meaner to cut down a +tree that took so long to grow and that's been so decent all its life, +'less ye can't do without the stuff ye git out'n it." + +Joe had listened and had drunk it all in, and his love for the tall +giants away back in the deep wilderness had never left him. It was +these dear old friends more than anything else that had kept him at +home, under plea of helping his father, months after he knew he ought +to be up and doing if he would ever be of any use to the old man in his +later years. + +It was Plymouth first, as stable boy, and then down to Nashua and +Boston as teamster and freight handler, and then, by what he considered +at the time a lucky chance--(Katie Murdock, from his own town, and now +a reporter in the same newspaper office with himself, had helped), man +of all work in this whirl where he felt like a fly clinging to a +driving wheel. + +Stretching out his stout saw-log legs and settling his big shoulders +into the soft cushions made by the sacks, his mind went back to the old +sawmill,--Baker's Mill,--and the dam backed up alongside the East +Branch. An old kingfisher used to sit on a limb over the still water +and watch for minnows,--a blue and white fellow with a sharp beak. He +had frightened him away many a time. And there was a hole where two big +trout lived. He remembered the willows, too, and the bunch of logs +piled as high as the mill. These would be rolled down and cant-hooked +under its saw when the spring opened, but Baker never ground any one of +them up into wood pulp. It went into clapboards to keep out the cold, +and shingles to keep off the rain, and the "waste" went under the +kettles of the neighbors, the light of the jolly flames dancing round +the room. He had carried many a bundle home himself that the old man +had sent to Jonathan. Most everybody sent Jonathan something, +especially if they thought he needed it. + +Then his mind reverted to his own share in the whirl about him. It +wasn't a job he liked, but there wasn't anything else offering, and +then Katie might want somebody to look after her, and so it was just as +well he had the job. He and Katie had been schoolmates together not so +long ago, in the wooden schoolhouse near the crossroads. She had gone +to college, and had come home with a diploma. She was two or three +years older than he was, but that didn't make any difference to a boy +and girl from the same village when they had grown up alongside of each +other. He wondered how long it was to July, when he was promised a +week,--and so was Katie. He knew just what they'd do; he could get two +passes to Plymouth,--his old friend the freight boss had promised him +that,--then about daylight, the time the train arrived, he'd find +Marvin, who drove the stage up the valley and past his old home, and +help him curry his team and hitch up, and Marvin would give them a ride +free. He could feel the fresh air on his cheeks as he rattled out of +the village, across the railroad track and out into the open. Tim +Shekles, the blacksmith, would be at work, and old Mother Crawport +would be digging in her garden, early as it was; and out in the fields +the crows would be hunting corn; and pretty soon down would go the +wheels into the soft, clean gravel of the brook that crossed the +turnpike and out again on the other side dripping puddles in the dirt; +and soon the big trees would begin, and keep on and on and on,--away up +to the tops of the mountains, the morning sun silvering the mists +sweeping up their sides,--and-- + +"Say! you! Wake up! He's been hollering at you for five minutes. GIT!" + +Joe sat up and rubbed his eyes. The fresh air of the morning had +vanished. + +"Yes, sir." He was on his feet now, alert as a terrier that had sniffed +a rat. + +"YES, SIR, eh! How many times do you want me to call you? Go and find +Miss Murdock, and send her here on the run. Tell her to get her hat and +cloak and show up in two minutes. I've got an assignment for her on the +East Side,--just come over the 'phone. Hurry now! That damned kid ought +to be--" + +But Joe was already out of the room and down two pair of stairs. Before +the minutes were up he was back again, Katie Murdock with him. She was +sliding her arm into the sleeve of her jacket as she entered. + +"Forty-third and First Avenue, Miss Murdock," said the night city +editor, lifting his head so that the cat eyes had full play. "Girl +overboard from one of the ferry boats,--lives at 117.--Drowned, they +say,--some fellow mixed up in it. Take your snapshot along and get +everything. Find the mother if she's got one and--" + +But the girl had gone. She knew the value of time,--especially at that +hour, even if she had been but a week in her new department of +"Special." Her chief knew it, too, or he wouldn't have sent her at that +hour. There was time--plenty of time if everything went right,--thirty +minutes, perhaps an hour,--to spare, but they were not hers to waste. + +"Wait for me, Joe," she said, as she hurried past him. "We'll go up +town together, soon as the presses start." + +Joe threw himself again on the pile of sacks and kept his ears open for +orders. It was a bad night for Katie to go out. She was plucky and +could hold her own,--had done so a dozen times,--once in a street car +when some fellow tried to be familiar,--but he didn't like her to go, +all the same. Nobody who looked into her face and then down into her +blue eyes would ever make any mistake, but then some men mightn't take +the trouble to look. He'd wait for her, no matter how late it might be. +When she came in she would be out of breath, and perhaps hungry,--then +he'd take her over to Cobb's for a cup of coffee. + +During the interim Joe's legs had been kept busy. Not only had he +rushed downstairs and up again half a dozen times, springing to the +night city editor's curse, or pound, or shout, whichever had come +handiest, but he had also been twice to the corner for frankfurters for +reporters who hadn't had a crumb to eat for hours. He was unwrapping +the second one when Katie burst in. + +Her hat and coat were dripping wet and her hair hung in disorder about +her pale face. Her notes were nearly completed; she had worked them out +on the elevated on her way downtown. Joe absorbed her with a look, and +slid to her side. Something in her face told him of her errand; +something of the suffering, and perhaps horror,--and he wanted to get +close to her. The girl had reached the editor's desk now, and was +waiting until he had finished the paragraph his pen was inditing. + +"Well," he said, laying down his pen,--"What have you got?" He was +running his cat eyes over the girl's notes as he spoke,--taking in at a +glance the "meat" of her report. Then he added,--"Get any snaps?" + +"No, sir, I--" + +"Didn't I tell you I must have 'em?" + +"Yes, but I couldn't do it. The mother was half crazy and the two +little children would have broken your heart. She was the only one who +could earn anything--" + +"And you got into the house and had the whole bunch right in your fist +and never snapped a shutter! See here, Miss Murdock I ain't running a +Bible class and you're not working in the slums,--you can keep that +gush for some other place. You had your camera and flash,--I saw you go +out with them. I wanted everything: corpse of girl, the mother, +children; where she was hauled out,--who hauled her out,--her +lover,--she went overboard for some fellow, you remember,--I told you +all that. Well, you're the limit!" + +Joe had moved up closer, now. He was formulating in his mind what would +happen to Katie if he caught the night city editor under his chin and +slammed his head against the wall. He knew what would happen to the +editor and to himself, but it was Katie's fate that kept his hands flat +to his sides. + +"I would rather throw up my position than have done it, sir," Katie +pleaded. "There are some things never ought to be printed. This drowned +girl--" + +The night city editor sprang from his chair, brushed the pile of notes +aside with his hand, and shouted + +"Say, you! Find that damned boy, somebody, if he isn't asleep!" + +Joe, who was not ten feet away, stepped up and faced him,--stepped so +quickly that the man backed away as if for more room. + +"Get a move on and send Miss Parker here. Hunt for her,--if she isn't +downstairs she may be at Cobb's getting something to eat. Quick, now!" +Then he turned to Katie + +"You better go home, Miss Murdock. You're tired, maybe: anyhow, you're +way off. Miss Parker'll get what we want,--she isn't so thin-skinned. +Here, take that stuff with you,--it's no use to me." + +The girl reached across the desk, gathered up the scattered notes, and +without a word left the room. On the way downstairs she met Miss Parker +coming up, Joe at her heels. She was older than Katie,--and harder; a +woman of thirty-five, whose experience had ranged from nurse in a +reformatory to a night reporter on a "Yellow." The two women passed +each other without even a nod. Joe turned and followed Katie Murdock +downstairs and into the night air. Miss Parker kept on her way. As she +glided through the room to the city editor's office, she had the air of +a sleuth tracking a criminal. + +Once outside in the night air, Joe drew Katie from under the glare of +the street lamp. Her eyes were running tears,--at the man's cruelty and +injustice, she who had worked to any hour of the night to please him. + +Joe was boiling. + +"I'll go back and punch him, if you'll let me. I heard it all." + +"No, it'll do no good,--both of us would get into trouble, then." + +"Well, then, I'll chuck my job. This ain't no place for any decent girl +nor man. Was it pretty bad where you went, Katie?" + +"Bad! Oh, Joe, you don't know. I said, last week, when I forced my way +into the room of that poor mother whose son was arrested, that I'd +never report another case like it. But you ought to have seen what I +saw to-night. The poor girl worked in a box factory, they told me, and +this man hounded her, and in despair she threw herself overboard. The +room was full when I got there,--policemen,--one or two other +reporters,--no woman but me. They had brought her in dripping wet and I +found her on the floor,--just a child, Joe,--hardly sixteen,--her hair +filled with dirt from the water,--the old mother wringing her hands. +Oh, it was pitiful! I could have flashed a picture,--nobody would have +cared nor stopped me,--but I couldn't. Don't you see I couldn't, Joe? +He has no right to ask me to do these things,--nobody has,--it's awful. +It's horrible! What would that poor mother have said when she saw it in +the paper? I'll go home now. No, you needn't come,--they'll want you. +Go back upstairs. Good-night." + +Joe watched her until she caught an uptown car, and then turned into +the side door opening on the narrow street. A truck had arrived while +they were talking, and the men were unloading some great rolls of +paper,--enormous spools. "What would dad say if he saw what his trees +had come to?" Joe thought, as he stood for a moment looking them +over,--his mind going back to his father's letter. One roll of wood +pulp had already been jacked up and was now feeding the mighty press. +The world would be devouring it in the morning; the drowned girl would +have her place in its columns,--so would every other item that told of +the roar and crash, the crime, infamy, and cruelty of the preceding +hours. Then the issues would be thrown away to make room for a fresher +record;--some to stop a hole in a broken window; some to be trampled +under foot of horse and man; many to light the fires the city over. + +"My poor trees!" sighed Joe, as he slowly mounted the steps to the top +floor. "There ain't no common sense in it, I know. Got to make sumpin' +out o' the timber once they're cut down, but it gits me hot all the +same when I think what they've come to. Gol-darn-shame to serve ye so! +Trees has feelin's, same's men,--that's what dad says, and that's true!" + +Miss Parker had done her work. Joe saw that when he opened the paper +the next morning: saw it at a glance, and with a big lump in his throat +and a tightening of his huge fists. Flaring headlines marked the first +page; under them was a picture of the girl in a sailor hat,--she had +found the original on the mantel and had slipped it in her pocket. Then +followed a flash photo of the dead girl lying on the floor,--her poor, +thin, battered and bruised body straight out, the knees and feet +stretching the wet drapery,--nothing had been left out. Most of the +details were untrue,--the story of the lover being a pure invention, +but the effect was all right. Then, again, no other morning journal had +more than a few lines. + +Everybody congratulated her. "Square beat," one man said, at which her +gray, cold face lightened up. + +"Glad you liked it," she answered with a nod of her head,--"I generally +'get there.'" + +When the night city editor arrived--the city editor was ill and he had +taken his place for the day--he reached out and caught her hand. Then +he drew her inside the office. When she passed Joe again on her way +out, her smile had broadened. + +"Got her pay shoved up," one of the younger men whispered to another. + +When Katie came in an hour later, no one in the room but Joe caught the +dark lines under her eyes and the reddened lids,--as if she had passed +a sleepless night,--one full of terror. She walked straight to where +the boy stood at work. + +"I've just seen that poor mother, Joe. I saw the paper and what Miss +Parker had said and I went straight to her. I did not want her to think +I had been so cruel. When I got to her house this morning there was a +patrol wagon at the door and all the neighbors outside. A woman told me +she was all right until somebody showed her the morning paper with the +picture of her drowned daughter; then she began to scream and went +stark mad, and they were getting ready to take her to Ward's Island +when I walked in. You've seen the picture, haven't you?" + +Joe nodded. He had seen the picture,--had it in his hand. He dare not +trust himself to speak,--everybody was around and he didn't want to +appear green and countrified. Then again, he didn't want to make it +harder for Katie. She had had nothing to do with it, thank God! + +The door of the office swung open. The editor this time caught sight of +Katie, called her by name, and, with a "Like to see you about a little +matter," beckoned her inside and shut the door upon them both. + +A moment later she was out again, a blue envelope in her hand. + +"He's got me discharged, Joe. Here's a note from the city editor," she +said. Her voice quivered and the tears stood in her eyes. + +"Fired you!" + +"Yes,--he says I'm too thin-skinned." + +Joe stood for a moment with the front page of the paper still in his +hand. Something of Jonathan came into his face,--the same firm lines +about his mouth that his father had when he crawled under the floor +timbers of the mill to save Baker's girl, pinned down and drowning, the +night of the freshet. + +Crushing the sheet in his hand Joe walked straight into the city +editor's office, a swing in his movement and a look in his eye that +roused everybody in the room. + +"You've got Katie Murdock fired, she says," he hissed between his +teeth. "What fur?" He was standing over the night city editor now, his +eyes blazing, his fists tightly closed. + +"What business have you to ask?" growled the editor. + +"Every business!" There was something in the boy's face that made the +man move his hand toward a paper weight. + +"She's fired because she wouldn't do your dirty work. Look at +this!"--he had straightened out the crumpled sheet now: "Look at it! +That's your work!--ain't a dog would a-done it, let alone a man. Do you +know what's happened? That girl's mother went crazy when she saw that +picture! You sent that catamount, Miss Parker, to do it, and she done +it fine, and filled it full o' lies and dirt! Ye didn't care who ye +hurt, you--" + +The man sprang to his feet. + +"Here!--put yourself outside that door! Get out or I'll--" + +"Git out, will I!--ME!--I'll git out when you eat yer words,--and you +WILL eat 'em. Down they go--" + +Joe had him by the throat now, his fingers tight under his chin, his +head flattened against the wooden partition. In his powerful grasp the +man was as helpless as a child. + +"Eat it,--swallow it!--MORE--MORE--all of it! damn ye!" + +He was cramming the wad between the editor's lips, one hand forcing +open his teeth, the other holding his head firm against the wall. + +Then flinging the half strangled man from him he turned, and facing the +crowd of reporters and employes--Miss Parker among them,--shouted:-- + +"And ye're no better,--none o' ye. Ye all hunt dirt,--live on dirt and +eat dirt. Ye're like a lot o' buzzards stuck up on a fence rail waitin' +fur an old horse to die. Ain't one o' you reporters wouldn't been glad +to do what that catamount over there done last night, and ain't one o' +ye wouldn't take pay fur it. Katie Murdock's fired? Yes,--two of us is +fired,--me and her. We'll go back whar we come from. We mayn't be so +almighty smart as some o' you city folks be, but we're a blamed sight +decenter. Up in my country dead girls is sumpin' to be sorry fur, not +sumpin' to make money out'er, and settin' a poor mother crazy is +worse'n murder. Git out o' my way thar, or I'll hurt some o' ye! Come, +Katie!" + + + + +THE BEGUILING OF PETER GRIGGS + + +Peter was in his room when I knocked--up two flights of stairs off +Washington Square--Eighth Street really--in one of those houses with a +past--of mahogany, open wood fires, old Madeira in silver coasters +pushed across hand-polished tables,--that kind of a past. + +None of all this could be seen in its present. The marble steps outside +were worn down like the teeth of an old horse, and as yellow; the iron +railings were bent and cankered by rust; the front door was in +blisters; the halls bare, steps uncarpeted, and the spindling mahogany +balusters showed here and there substitutes of pine. + +Nor did the occupants revive any of its old-time charm. The basement +held a grocery--a kindling-wood, ice and potato sort of grocery; the +parlor boasted a merchant tailor--much pressing and repairing, with now +and then a whole suit; the second floor front was given over to a +wig-maker and the second story back to a manicure. Here the tide of the +commercial and the commonplace stopped--stopped just short of the third +floor where old Peter Griggs lived. + +You would understand why if you knew the man. + +Just as this particular old house possessed two distinct +personalities--one of the past and the other of the present--so did the +occupant of the third floor. + +Downtown in the custom house, where he was employed (he had something +to do with invoices), he was just plain Mr. Griggs--a short, crisp, +"Yes and so" little man--exact, precise and absurdly correct: never, in +all his life, had he made a mistake. + +Up in these rooms on the third floor he was dear old Peter--or Pete--or +Griggsy--or whatever his many friends loved best to call him. Up here, +too, he was the merriest companion possible; giving out as much as he +absorbed, and always with his heart turned inside out. That he had been +for more than thirty years fastened to a high stool facing his desk +bespoke neither political influence nor the backing of rich friends. +Nobody, really, had ever wanted his place. If they did they never dared +ask for it--not above their breath. They would as soon have thought of +ousting the old clock from its perch in the rotunda, or moving one of +the great columns that faced the street. So he just stayed on ticking +away at his post, quite like the old clock itself, and getting stiffer +and stiffer in the line of his duty--quite like the columns--and +getting more and more covered with the dust of long habit--quite like +both of them. + +This dust, being outside dust, and never sinking the thousandth part of +an inch below the surface, left its mark on the man beneath as a live +coal fading and whitening leaves its covering of ashes on the spark. + +These two--the ashes and the spark--made up the sum of Peter's +individuality. The ash part was what he offered to the world of +routine--the world he hated. The spark part--cheery, warm, +enthusiastic, full of dreams, of imaginings, with an absorbing love for +little bits of beauty, such as old Satsuma, Cloisonne, quaint +miniatures and the like--all good, and yet within reach of his +purse--this part he gave to his friends. + +I am inside his room now, standing behind him taking in the glow of the +fire and the red damask curtains shielding the door that leads to his +bedroom; my eye roving over the bookcases crammed with books, the +tables littered with curios and the mantel covered with miniatures and +ivories. I invariably do this to discover his newest "find" before he +calls my attention to it. As he has not yet moved or given me any other +sign of recognition than a gruff "Draw up a chair," in a voice that +does not sound a bit like him--his eyes all the time on the smouldering +fire, there is yet a chance to look him over before he begins to talk. +(We shall all be busy enough listening when he does begin.) + +I say "ALL," for there is a second visitor close behind me, and the +sound of still another footstep can already be heard in the hall below. + +It is the back of Peter's head now that interests me, and the droop of +his shoulders. They always remind me of Leech's sketch of Old Scrooge +waiting for Marly's ghost, whenever I come upon him thus unobserved. +To-night he not only wears his calico dressing-gown--unheard-of garment +in these days--but a red velvet cap pulled over his scalp. Most bald +men would have the cap black--but then most bald men have not Peter's +eye for color. + +It's a queer head--this head of Peter Griggs. Not at all like any other +head I know. If I should attempt to describe it, I should merely have +to say bluntly that it was more like an enlarged hickory-nut than any +other object I can think of. It is of the same texture, too, and almost +as devoid of hair. Except on his temples, and close down where his +collar binds his thin neck, there is really very little hair left; and +this is so near the color of the shrivelled skin beneath that I never +know where one begins and the other ends. + +When I face him--and by this time I am facing him--I must admit that +the hickory-nut simile still holds. There are no particular features, +no decided bumps, no decided hollows; the nose is only an enlarged +ridge, the cheeks and eye-sockets only seams. But the eyes count--yes, +the eyes count--count so that you see at once that they are the live +points of the live coal smouldering beneath. + +Here the hickory-nut as a simile goes all to pieces. These eyes are the +flash from some distant lighthouse, burning dull when the commonplace +of life passes before him, and bursting into effulgence when something +touches his heart or stirs his imagination. Downtown in the Dismal Tomb +even the lighthouse goes to smash. Here the eyes set so far back in his +head that they look for all the world like two wary foxes peeping out +of a hole, losing nothing of what is going on outside--never being +fooled, never being wheedled or coaxed out of their retreat. "Can't +fool Mr. Griggs," some broker says, as he tries to get his papers +signed out of his turn. Uptown these same foxes are running around +loose in an abandonment of jollity, frisking here and there, all +restraint cast aside--trusting everybody--and glad to. That's why I +couldn't understand his tone of voice when I opened his door. + +"Not sick, old fellow?" I cried. He had not yet lifted his head or +vouchsafed a single word of welcome. + +"Yes, sick at heart. My old carcass is all right, but inside--way down +where a man lives--I'm sick unto death. Take a look at the mantelpiece. +You see my best miniature's gone, don't you?" + +"Not the Cosway?" + +"Yes, the Cosway!" + +"Stolen?" + +"Worse than stolen! Oh, my boy, such mean people live in the world! I +couldn't believe it possible. I've read in the papers something like +it, but that I should have been--oh, I can't get over it! It haunts me +like a ghost. It isn't the value--it's the way it was done; and I was +so helpless, and I meant only to be kind." + +The other men had arrived now and the three of us were ranged around +Peter in a circle, wondering with wide-opened eyes at his tone of +voice, his dismal expression, and especially at the air of dejection +which seemed to ooze through every square inch of his calico +dressing-gown. + +"Sit down, all of you," he continued "and listen. And it's all your +fault. If only one of you had come up to see me! I waited and waited; I +knew most of you would be off somewhere eating your Thanksgiving +turkey, but that every mother's son of you should have forgotten +me--that's what I won't forgive you for." + +We, with one accord, began to make excuses, but he waved us into +silence. + +"After a while I got so lonely I couldn't stand it any longer. So about +six o'clock I started out to dine alone somewhere--some place where I +had no associations with any one of you. I hadn't gone as far as +Broadway when along came two men and a woman. You'd have said 'two +gentlemen and a lady'--I say two men and a woman. I looked at them and +they looked at me. I saw they were from out of town, and right away +came the thought, they must be lonely, too. Everybody is lonesome on +Thanksgiving if he's away from home, or, like me, has no place to go +to. The Large Man stopped and nudged the Small Man, and the Woman +turned and looked at me earnestly, then all three talked together for a +minute, then I heard the Small Man say, 'I'll go you a ten on it,' +which conveyed no meaning to me. Then all three of them walked back to +where I stood and the Large Man asked me where Foscari's restaurant was. + +"Well, of course, that was in the next street, so I volunteered to show +them the place. On the way over the Small Man and the Woman lagged +behind and I overheard them say that it would never do--that is, the +Woman said so; at which the Small Man laughed and said they couldn't +find a better. All this time the Large Man held me by the arm in a +friendly sort of way, as if he were afraid I would stub my toe and fall +if he didn't help me over the gutters; telling me all the time that he +didn't know the ropes around New York and how much obliged he was to me +for taking all this trouble to show him. Pretty soon we arrived at +Foscari's. I never dined there--never had been inside the place. Cheap +sort of a restaurant--down two steps from the sidewalk, but they asked +for Foscari's, and that's where I took them. + +"'Here's the place,' I said, and I lifted my hat to the Woman and +turned to go back. + +"'No, don't go,' said the Large Man, still holding on to my arm. +'You've been white and decent to us; we're all stranded here. This is +Thanksgiving--come in and have dinner with us.' + +"Then I began by thanking them and ended by saying I couldn't. Then the +Small Man began to urge me, saying that out in his country, near the +Rockies, everybody was willing to sit down at anybody's table when he +was invited; and the Large Man kept on squeezing my arm in a friendly +sort of way, so I finally said I didn't care if I did, and in we all +went. When we got inside the place was practically empty--only one +guest, really--and he was over by the wall in a corner. There were only +two waiters--one an Irishman who said his name was Mike, with a very +red head and an enormous mouth--a queer kind of a servant for that kind +of a restaurant, I thought--and the other a young Italian, who was +probably the cook. + +"'You order,' said the Large Man. 'You know what's good in New York.' + +"So I ordered. + +"And I want to tell you that the dinner was a particularly good +one--well cooked and well served. We had soup and fish and an Italian +ragout, macaroni, peppers and two bottles of red wine. Before the soup +was over I was glad I'd come; glad, not only because the dinner was all +right, but because the people were human kind of people--no foolishness +about them--no pretension. They were not our kind of people, of +course--couldn't find them in New York if you looked everywhere--not +born and brought up here. The Woman was gentle and kindly, saying very +little, but the Large Man was a hearty, breezy sort of fellow--even if +his language at times was rough and uncouth--at least I thought so. Big +bones and a well-fed body; quick in his movements, yet slow in his +talk, showing force and determination in everything he said. The Small +Man was as tough physically and as alert mentally, but there wasn't so +much of him. He talked, however, twice as fast as the Large Man, and +said less. + +"He talked of the city--how smart the people were, how stuck up some of +them, thinking they knew it all, and how, if they but thought about it, +they must see after all that the West was the only thing that kept the +country alive. That kind of talk--not in an offensive way--just as all +of us talk when we believe in our section of the country. + +"All this time the solitary guest sat against the wall listening. Near +as I could make out he only had one dish and a small bottle of wine. +Presently he made a remark--not to us--not to the room--more as if to +himself. + +"'West is the only thing, is it? And every man Jack of them from New +England stock!' + +"This, too, didn't come in any offensive spirit--just as an aside, as +if to keep himself company, being lonely, of course. + +"But the Large Man caught it before all the words were out of his mouth. + +"'Dead right, pard,' he said--I only quote his words, gentlemen. 'My +father came from Boston, left there in '58. Where're you from?' + +"'Boston,' answered the man looking at him over the prongs of his fork. + +"'That so? Well, why ain't you eatin' your turkey with your folks? Got +any?' + +"'Yes, got a lot of them, but I was short of a ticket.' + +"Here the Large Man got up and went over to the Man from Boston. + +"'Shake for Boston,' he said, holding out his big hand. 'And now bring +that bottle over here and chip in with us.' Then he opened his +pocketbook and took out a square slip of paper. + +"'Here, tuck that in your clothes.' Again I must remark, gentlemen, +that I am only quoting their language so that you can get a better idea +of what sort of people I was with. 'That's a pass to your 'burg. I'm +going South and I won't use it.' + +"There were five of us at the table now, the Bostonian bringing over +his plate without a word except 'Thank you,' and taking his share of +the different dishes. + +"The talk now became very interesting. The Large Man told stories of +his early life on a farm and the Bostonian recited verses, and recited +them very well, and the Woman laughed in the right place, and when the +cigars were brought and the coffee and the cognac, I was sorry it was +all over. That, when I look back upon it, is the most extraordinary +thing of all. How a man of my experience could have--Well, I won't +stop, I'll just keep on. + +"With the coffee, and before the red-headed Irishman had brought the +bill--oh, you should go round to Foscari's and look at that Irishman +just to see how coarse and vulgar a man can be who spends his whole +life feeding animals who--no I WILL go on, for the most interesting +part is to come. When the coffee was served, I say, the Large Man asked +the waiter where he could send a telephone message to his hotel--wanted +the porter to get his trunks down. The Irishman answered: 'Out in the +hall, to the right o' where ye come in.' 'I'll go with you,' said the +Woman; so the two got up and I opened the door for her, and we three +sat down again--that is, the Small Man, the Bostonian and myself. + +"We talked on, not noticing the time; then the Small Man looked at his +watch, jumped up and called out to the waiter: 'Where did you say that +telephone place was?' + +"'In the hall--on the other side of that dure; ye kin see it from where +ye're sittin'.' + +"'Well, he's taking a devil of a time to do his telephoning' said the +Small Man. 'Hold on to my coffee till I go and punch him up.' + +"The Bostonian and I kept on talking. He was a draughtsman in an +architect's office, so he told me, and was promised a place the +following week, and I was very much interested in what he told me of +his walking the streets looking for work. + +"Mike, the waiter, now laid the bill on the table. I didn't want to +know the amount; my hosts wouldn't want me to see it, of course, and so +I didn't look at it. The Bostonian craned his head, but I forestalled +his glance and turned a plate over it before he could read the total. + +"Mike now approached. + +"'Ye'd better pay now,' he said, 'before any more o' ye skip. It's nine +dollars and sixty cints.' + +"'They'll all be back in a minute,' I said. 'Wait till they come. I'm +only an invited guest.' + +"'I'll wait nothin'. The boss is out and I'm in charge. H'ist out yer +money.' + +"The Bostonian had risen from the table now and was looking at me as if +I'd just been detected in picking his pocket. + +"'But I'm an invited guest,' I protested. + +"'Invited guest, are ye?' continued the Irishman. 'And ye ordered the +grub yersilf! You heard him!' This to the Bostonian. 'Didn't he order +the stuff? Let's see yer wad. No more o' ye's goin' to l'ave this room +'till I gits nine dollars and sixty cints. Here, Macaroni'--and he +called the Italian--'ring up the station-house and till thim to sind +somebody 'round. Ye can't play that game on me!" + +"'My dear fellow,' I said--I had now to be as courteous as I could--'I +don't want to play anything on you. You may be right in your views that +these people have served me a scurvy trick, but I don't believe it.' + +"'Well, thin, pull yer wad out, or I'll call the perlice.' + +"'Don't do anything of the kind,' I urged. 'My name is Peter Griggs and +I live quite near here. Lived there for twenty years. You can find out +all about me from any of the neighbors; I haven't enough money with me, +but I'll go to my room and get it.' + +"'No ye don't; none o' that guff for me!' You can't think how coarse he +was. Then he walked deliberately over to the door and stood with his +back against it. + +"The Bostonian now joined in. + +"'It looks as if you had been buncoed, my friend,' he said. 'It's an +old dodge, this, of getting somebody to pay for your dinner, especially +on holidays, and yet I can't see how anybody would pick you out as a +greenhorn. I'd divide the bill with you, but really, as you know, I +haven't the money.' I saw from his tone that he was thinking better of +me. + +"'No, I'll pay it myself. You, certainly, were not to blame. Will you +go to my room with me, Mike?' I called him Mike because it seemed the +best way to conciliate the man. + +"'How far is it?' he asked, softening a little. + +"'Two blocks.' + +"'And ye'll pay if I go?' + +"'Of course I will pay. Do I look like a man who would cheat you?' + +"'All right, come on.' + +"I bade the Bostonian good-by, and we started. + +"Mike didn't speak a word on the way, nor did I. I felt like a +suspected thief that a policeman was taking to the station-house; I've +passed them many times in the street, and I've often wondered what was +passing in the thief's mind. I knew now. I knew, too, what the +Bostonian thought of me, and the Italian, and Mike. + +"Then a shiver went through me, and the next moment I broke out into a +cold sweat. I suddenly remembered that I hadn't any money in my room. I +had given every cent, except two dollars of the amount I had brought +uptown with me, to my washerwoman the night before. The bill was not +due, but Mrs. Jones wanted it for Thanksgiving and so I let her have +it. And yet, gentlemen--would you believe it!--I walked on, trying to +think if there mightn't be some bills in the vest I'd worn the day +before, or in the top drawer of my desk or in a china cup on the +mantel. Really, it was an awful, awful position! I couldn't run! I +couldn't explain. I just had to keep on. + +"When I got here I turned up the light and asked him to sit down while +I searched my clothes--you can see what disgrace does for a man--asked +a common, low, vulgar waiter to sit down in my room. He didn't sit +down--he just kept walking round and round, peering into the bookcases, +handling the little things on the mantel, feeling the quality of the +curtain that hangs there at the door--like a pawnbroker making up an +inventory. + +"Finally he said: 'Ye got a nice place here'--the first words that had +come from his lips since we left the restaurant. 'The boss likes these +jimcracks; he's got a lot o' thim up where he lives. I seen him pay +twinty dollars to a Jew-dago for one o' THIM.' And he pointed to my row +of miniatures. + +"By this time I was face to face with the awful truth. There was +nothing in the vest-pocket, nor in the cup, and there was nothing in +the drawer. The only money I had was the two-dollar bill which had been +left over after paying Mrs. Jones. I spread it out before him and +looked him straight in the eye--fearlessly--that he might know I wasn't +telling him an untruth. + +"'My good man,' I said in my kindest voice, 'I was mistaken. I find I +have no money. I have paid away every cent except these two dollars; +take this bill and let me come in to-morrow and pay the balance.' + +"'Good man be damned!' he said. 'I don't want yer two dollars. I'll +take this and call it square.' Then he put my precious Cosway in his +pocket and without another word walked out of the room." + +"But wouldn't they give it back to you when you went for it?" I blurted +out. + +Peter leaned back in his chair and drummed on the arm with his fingers. + +"To tell the truth, I have been ashamed to go. I suppose they will give +it back when I ask them. And every day I intended going and paying them +the money, and every day I shun the street as if a plague was there. I +will go some time, but not now. Please don't ask me." + +"Have you seen none of them since?" inquired another of his visitors. + +"Only the Bostonian. He walked up to me while I was having my lunch in +Nassau Street yesterday. + +"'I came out better than you did,' he said. 'The pass was good. I used +it the next day. Just home from the Hub.'" + +"Accomplice, maybe," remarked Peter's third visitor, "just fooling you +with that architect yarn." + +"Buncoed that pass out of somebody else," suggested the second visitor. + +"Perhaps," Peter continued. "I give it up. It's one of the things that +can never be explained. The Bostonian was polite, but he still thinks +me a cheat. He let me down as easy as he could, being a gentleman, but +I can never forget that he saw me come in with them and order the +dinner, and that then I tried to sneak out of paying for it. Oh, it's +dreadful! Dreadful!" + +Peter settled in his seat until only the top of his red skull cap +showed above the back of his easy chair. For some minutes he did not +speak, then he said slowly, and as if talking to himself: + +"Mean, mean people to serve me so!" + +Some days later I again knocked at Peter's door. I had determined, with +or without his consent, to go myself to Foscari's, redeem the miniature +and explain the circumstances, and let them know exactly who Peter was. +My hand had hardly touched the panel when his cheery voice rang out: + +"Whoever you are, come in!" + +He had sprung from his chair now and had advanced to greet me. + +"Oh, is it you! So glad--come over here before you get your coat off. +Look!" + +"The Cosway! You paid the bill and redeemed it?" + +"Didn't cost me a cent." + +"They sent it to you, then, and apologized?" + +"Nothing of the kind. Give me your hat and coat and plump yourself down +on that chair by the fire. I've got the most extraordinary story to +tell you you've ever heard in your whole life." + +He was himself again--the same bubbling spirit, the same warmth in his +manner, foxes out frolicking, lighthouse flashing, everything let loose. + +"Last night I was sitting here at my desk writing, about nine o'clock, +as near as I can remember"--his voice dropped now to a tragic whisper, +as if an encounter with a burglar was to +follow--"WHEN-_I_-HEARD-A-HEAVY-TREAD-ON-THE-STAIRS, getting louder and +louder as it reached my door. Then came a knock strong enough to crack +the panels. I got up at once and turned the knob. In the corridor stood +the Large Man. He was inside before I could stop him--I couldn't have +stopped him. You have no idea, my dear friend, how big and strong that +man is. What he expected to see I don't know, but it evidently was not +what he found. + +"'I had a hell of a time finding you,' he began, looking about him in +astonishment. 'Been up and down everywhere inquiring. Only got your +number from that red-headed plate-shover half an hour ago.'" + +Peter's voice had now regained its customary volume: + +"I had backed to the fireplace by this time and had picked up the +poker, as if to punch the fire, but I really intended to strike him if +he advanced too close or tried to help himself to any of my things. He +never took the slightest notice of my movements, or waited for any +answer to his outburst--just kept right on talking. + +"'You were so dead easy there warn't no fun in it. I dropped to that +the first time you opened your head, but Sam had picked you out and it +had to go at that. My wife saw his mistake as soon as she got her eyes +on you, but Sam, like a fool, wouldn't listen. He was to do the +picking, and so I couldn't say a word. When we all got outside, clear, +we took a turn around Washington Square so I could have my laugh out on +Sam, and when we got back you were gone and so was the fellow from +Boston who chipped in, and so was that red-headed Irish waiter. That +knocked us silly--wife gave us rats, and I felt like a yellow dog. Been +a-feeling so ever since. The Dago couldn't or wouldn't understand. Said +we'd better come in when the boss was there. We had to take the eleven +o'clock to Boston that night and had only time to catch the train. When +I got back at six-ten to-night I drove to Foscari's, found the Irishman +and the boss, heard how he'd pulled your leg--paid the bill--$9.60, +wasn't it?--that's what he said it was, anyhow--and here's your +picture!' + +"I had dropped the poker now and was motioning him to a chair. + +"'No, thank you, I won't sit down; ain't got time. Got to take the +eleven forty-five for Chicago. Well, we had a lot of fun out of it, +anyhow, only I didn't intend it should end up the way it did. Just +wanted to get even with Sam and win my bet.' + +"'Bet? I asked. I was still in the dark as to what he meant. + +"'Yes--bet Sam I'd bunco any New York man he'd pick out, and you +happened to be the one. You see, wife and I and Sam were here for a few +days and we struck Thanksgiving and wanted some fun, and we HAD it. +You're white, old man all the way through--white as cotton and our +kind--never flunked once, or turned a hair. Sally took an awful shine +to you. Shake! Next time I'm in New York I'll look you up and if you +ever come out our way we'll open a keg o' nails, and make it red-hot +for you, and don't you forget it. Here's my card, so you can remember.'" + +Peter picked up the card from the table, threw up his chin, and broke +into one of his infectious laughs. I reached over and took it from his +hand. It bore this inscription: + + + J. C. MURPHY + General Travelling Agent + C. S. & Q. R. R. + + OGDEN, UTAH + + + + +MISS JENNINGS'S COMPANION + + +The big Liner slowed down and dropped anchor inside the Breakwater. +Sweeping toward her, pushing the white foam in long lines from her bow, +her flag of black smoke trailing behind, came the company's tender--out +from Cherbourg with passengers. + +Under the big Liner's upper deck, along its top rail, was strung a row +of heads watching the tender's approach--old heads--young +heads--middle-aged heads--Miss Jennings's among these last--their eyes +taking in the grim Breakwater with its beacon light, the frowning +casemates specked with sentinels, and the line of the distant city +blurred with masts and spent steam. They saw, too, from their height +(they could look down the tender's smokestack) the sturdy figure of her +Captain, his white cap in relief against the green sea, and below him +the flat mass of people, their upturned faces so many pats of color on +a dark canvas. + +With the hauling taut and making fast of the fore and aft hawsers, a +group of sailors broke away from the flat mass and began tugging at the +gangplank, lifting it into position, the boatswain's orders ringing +clear. Another group stripped off the tarpaulins from the piles of +luggage, and a third--the gangplank in place--swarmed about the heaps +of trunks, shouldering the separate pieces as ants shoulder grains of +sand, then scurrying toward the tender's rail, where other ants reached +down and relieved them of their loads. + +The mass of people below now took on the shape of a funnel, its spout +resting on the edge of the gangplank, from out which poured a steady +stream of people up and over the Liner's side. + +Two decks below where Miss Jennings and her fellow-travellers were +leaning over the steamer's rail craning their necks, other sights came +into view. Here not only the funnel-shaped mass could be seen, but the +faces of the individuals composing it, as well as their nationality and +class; whether first, second or steerage. There, too, was the line of +stewards reaching out with open hands, relieving the passengers of +their small belongings; here too stood the First Officer in white +gloves and gold lace bowing to those he knew and smiling at others; and +here too was a smooth-shaven, closely-knit young man in dark clothes +and derby hat, who had taken up his position just behind the First +Officer, and whose steady steel gray eyes followed the movements of +each and every one of the passengers from the moment their feet touched +the gangplank until they had disappeared in charge of the stewards. + +These passengers made a motley group: first came a stout American with +two pretty daughters; then a young Frenchman and his valet; then a +Sister of Charity draped in black, her close-fitting, white, starched +cap and broad white collar framing her face, one hand clutching the +rope rail as she stepped feebly toward the steamer, the other grasping +a bandbox, her only luggage; next wriggled some college boys in twos +and threes, and then the rest of the hurrying mass, followed close by a +herd of emigrants crowding and stumbling like sheep, the men with +pillow-case bundles over their backs, the women with babies muffled in +shawls. + +When the last passenger was aboard, the closely-knit young man with the +steel gray eyes leaned forward and said in a low voice to the First +Officer: + +"He's not in this bunch." + +"Sure?" + +"Yes--dead sure." + +"Where will you look for him now, Hobson?" continued the officer. + +"Paris, maybe. I told the Chief we wouldn't get anywhere on this lead. +Well, so long"--and the closely-knit young man swung himself down the +gangplank and disappeared into the cabin of the tender. + +The scenes on the gangplank were now repeated on the steamer. The old +travellers, whose hand luggage had been properly numbered, gave +themselves no concern--the stewards would look after their belongings. +The new travellers--the Sister of Charity among them--wandered about +asking questions that for the moment no one had time to answer. She, +poor soul, had spent her life in restful places, and the in-rush of +passengers and their proper bestowal seemed to have completely dazed +her. + +"Can I help you?" asked the First Officer--everybody is ready to help a +Sister, no matter what his rank or how pressing his duties. + +"Yes, please--I want to know where my room is. It is Number 49, so my +ticket says." + +Here the Purser came up--he, too, would help a Sister. + +"Sister Teresa, is it not--from the Convent of the Sacred Heart? Yes, +we knew you would get on at Cherbourg. You are on the lower deck in the +same stateroom with Miss Jennings. Steward--take the Sister to--" + +"With whom?" she cried, with a look of blank amazement "But I thought I +was alone! They told me so at the office. Oh, I cannot share my room +with anybody. Please let--" + +"Yes, but we had to double up. We would willingly give you a room +alone, but there isn't an empty berth on board." He was telling the +truth and showed it in his voice. + +"But I have the money to pay for a whole room. I would have paid for it +at the office in Paris, but they told me it was not necessary." + +"I know, Sister, and I'm very sorry, but it can't be helped now. +Steward, take Sister Teresa to Number 49." This last came as an order, +and ended the discussion. + +When the Steward pushed open the door Miss Jennings was sitting on the +sofa berth reading, a long gray cloak about her shoulders. She had a +quiet, calm face and steady eyes framed in gold spectacles. She looked +to be a woman of fifty who had seen life and understood it. + +"The officer says I am to share your room," began Sister Teresa in a +trembling voice. "Don't think me rude, please, but I don't want to +share your room. I want to be alone, and so do you. Can't you help me?" + +"But I don't mind it, and you won't after you get used to it." The +voice was poised and well modulated--evidently a woman without +nerves--a direct, masterful sort of woman, who looked you straight in +the eyes, was without guile, hated a lie and believed in human nature. +"And we ought to get on together," she continued simply, as if it were +a matter of course. "You are a Sister, and from one of the French +institutions--I recognize your dress. I'm a nurse from the London +Hospital. The First Officer told me you had the other berth and I was +looking for you aboard the Cherbourg tender, but I couldn't see you for +the smoke, you were so far below me. We'll get on together, never fear. +Which bed will you have--this one or the one curtained off?" + +"Oh, do you take the one curtained off," she answered in a hopeless +tone, as if further resistance was useless. "The sofa is easier perhaps +for me, for I always undress in the dark." + +"No, turn on the light. It won't wake me--I'm used to sleeping +anywhere--sometimes bolt upright in my chair with my hand on my +patient." + +"But it is one of the rules of our order to dress and undress in the +dark," the Sister pleaded; "candles are luxuries only used for the +sick, and so we do without them." + +"All right--just as you say," rejoined Miss Jennings cheerily. "My only +desire was to make you comfortable." + +That night at dinner Sister Teresa and Nurse Jennings found themselves +seated next to each other, the Chief Steward, who had special orders +from the First Officer to show Miss Jennings and her companion every +courtesy, having conducted them to their seats. + +Before the repast was half over, the two had attracted the attention of +all about them. What was particularly noticed was the abstemious +self-denying life of the Sister so plainly shown in the lines of her +grave, almost hard, face, framed close in the tight bands of white +linen concealing every vestige of her hair, the whole in strong +contrast to the kind, sympathetic face of the Nurse, whose soft gray +locks hung loosely about her temples. Their history, gleaned at the +First Officer's table had also become public property. Nurse Jennings +had served two years in South Africa, where she had charge of a ward in +one of the largest field hospitals outside of Pretoria; on her return +to England, she had been placed over an important case in one of the +London hospitals--that of a gallant Canadian officer who had been +shipped home convalescent, and who had now sent for her to come to him +in Montreal. The good Sister was one of those unfortunate women who had +been expelled from France under the new law, and who was now on her way +to Quebec, there to take up her life-work again. This had been the +fifth refugee, the officer added, whom the Line had cared for. + +When the hour for retiring came, Sister Teresa, with the remark that +she would wait until Miss Jennings was in bed before she sought her own +berth, followed her companion to the stateroom, bade her good-night, +and then, with her hand on the knob, lingered for a moment as if there +was still some further word on her lips. + +"What is it?" asked the Nurse, with one of her direct, searching +glances. "Speak out--I'm a woman like yourself, and can understand." + +"Well, it's about the Hour of Silence. I must have one hour every day +when I can be alone. It has been the custom of my life and I cannot +omit it. It will be many days before we reach the land, and there is no +other place for me to pray except in here. Would you object if I--" + +"Object! Of course not! I will help you to keep it, and I will see, +too, that the Stewardess does not disturb you. Now, is there anything +else? Tell me--I love people who speak right out what they mean." + +"No--except that I always rise at dawn, and will be gone when you wake. +Good-night." + +The morning after this first night the two lay in their steamer chairs +on the upper deck. The First Officer, noticing them together, paused +for a moment on his way to the bridge: + +"You knew, of course, Miss Jennings, that Hobson went back to Cherbourg +on the tender. He left good-by for you." + +"Hunting for somebody, as usual, I suppose?" she rejoined. + +"Yes"--and he passed on. + +"A wretched life, isn't it," said Nurse Jennings, "this hunting for +criminals? This same man, Mr. Hobson, after a hunt of months, found one +in my ward with a bullet through his chest." + +"You know him then?" asked Sister Teresa, with a tremor in her voice. + +"Yes--he's a Scotland Yard man." + +"And you say he was looking for some one on board and didn't find him?" + +"No, not yet, but he will find him, he always does; that's the pity of +it. Some of these poor hunted people would lead a different life if +they had another chance. I tried to save the one Hobson found in my +ward. He was quite frank with me, and told me everything. When people +trust me my heart always goes out to them--so much so that I often do +very foolish things that are apt to get me into trouble. It's when they +lie to me--and so many do--making one excuse after another for their +being in the ward--that I lose all interest in them. I pleaded with +Hobson to give the man another chance, but I could do nothing. Thief as +he was, he had told the truth. He had that quality left, and I liked +him for it. If I had known Hobson was on his track I'd have helped him +in some way to get off. He stole to help his old mother, and wasn't a +criminal in any sense--only weak-hearted. The law is cruel--it never +makes allowances--that's where it is wrong." + +"Cruel!--it's brutal. It is more brutal often than the crime," answered +Sister Teresa in a voice full of emotion. "Do you think the man your +friend was looking for here on board will escape?" + +"No, I'm afraid not. There is very little chance of any criminal +escaping when they once get on his track, so Mr. Hobson has told me. If +he is on this steamer he must run another gauntlet in New York, even if +he is among the emigrants. You know we have over a thousand on board. +If he is not aboard they will track him down. Dreadful, isn't it?" + +"Poor fellow," said Sister Teresa, a sob in her voice, "how sorry I am +for him. If men only knew how much wiser mercy is than justice in the +redemption of the world." Here she rose from her chair, and gathering +her black cloak about her crossed to the rail and looked out to sea. In +a few minutes she returned. "Let us walk out to the bow where we can +talk undisturbed," she said. "The constant movement of the passengers +on deck, passing backward and forward, disturbs my head. I see so few +people, you know." + +When they reached the bow, she made a place beside her for the Nurse. + +"Don't misunderstand what I said about the brutality of the law," she +began. "There must be laws, and brutal men who commit brutal crimes +must be punished. But there are so many men who are not brutal, +although the crimes may be. I knew of one once. We had educated his +little daughter--such a sweet child! The man himself was a +scene-painter and worked in the theatres in London. Sometimes he would +take part in the play himself, making up for the minor characters, +although most of his time was spent in painting scenery. He had married +a woman who was on the stage, and she had deserted him for one of the +actors, and left her child behind. Her faithlessness nearly broke his +heart. Through one of our own people in London he found us and sent the +child to the convent where we have a school for just such cases. When +the girl got to be seventeen years old he sent for her and she went to +London to see him. He remembered her mother's career, and guarded her +like a little plant. He never allowed her to come to the theatre except +in the middle of the day. Then she would come where he was at work up +on the top of the painting platform high above the stage. There he and +she would be alone. One morning while he was at work one of the +scene-shifters--a man with whom he had had some difficulty--met the +girl as she was crossing the high platform. He had never seen her +before and, thinking she was one of the chorus girls, threw his arm +about her. The girl screamed, the scene-painter dropped his brushes, +ran to her side, hit the man in the face--the scene-shifter lost his +balance and fell to the stage. Before he died in the hospital he told +who had struck him; he told why, too; that the scene-painter hated him; +and that the two had had an altercation the day before--about some +colors; which was not true, there only having been a difference of +opinion. The man fled to Paris with his daughter. The girl today is at +one of our institutions at Rouen. The detectives, suspecting that he +would try to see her, have been watching that place for the last five +months. All that time he has been employed in the garden of a convent +out of Paris. Last week we heard from a Sister in London that some one +had recognized him, although he had shaved off his beard--some visitor +or parent of one of the children, perhaps, who had come upon him +suddenly while at work in the garden beds. He is now a fugitive, hunted +like an animal. He never intended to harm this man--he only tried to +save his daughter--and yet he knew that because of the difficulty that +he had had with the dead man and the fact that his daughter's testimony +would not help him--she being an interested person--he would be made to +suffer for a crime he had not intended to commit. Now, would you hand +this poor father over to the police? In a year his daughter must leave +the convent. She then has no earthly protection." + +Miss Jennings gazed out over the sea, her brow knit in deep thought. +Her mind went back to the wounded criminal in the hospital cot and to +the look of fear and agony that came into his eyes when Hobson stood +over him and called him by name. Sister Teresa sat watching her +companion's face. Her whole life had been one of mercy and she never +lost an opportunity to plead its cause. + +The Nurse's answer came slowly: + +"No, I would not. There is misery enough in the world without my adding +to it." + +"Would you help him to escape?" + +"Yes, if what you tell me is true and he trusted me." + +Sister Teresa rose to her feet, crossed herself, and said in a voice +that seemed to come through pent-up tears: + +"Thank God! I go now to pray. It is my Hour of Silence." + +When she returned, Nurse Jennings was still in her seat in the bow. The +sun shone bright and warm, and the sea had become calm. + +"You look rested, Sister," she said, looking up into her face. "Your +color is fresher and the dark rings have gone from your eyes. Did you +sleep?" + +"No, I wait for the night to sleep. It is hard enough then." + +"What did you do?" + +"I prayed for you and for myself. Come to the stateroom--I have +something to tell you." + +"Tell it here," said Nurse Jennings in a more positive tone. + +"No, it might hurt you, and others will notice. Come quick, please, or +my courage will fail." + +"Can't I hear it to-night--" She was comfortable where she was and +remembered the narrow, steep steps to the lower deck. + +"No! come now--and QUICK." + +At the tone of agony in the Sister's voice Miss Jennings scrutinized +her companion's face. Her trained ear had caught an indrawn, fluttering +sob which she recognized as belonging to a certain form of hysteria. +Brooding over her troubles, combined with the effects of the sea air, +had unstrung the dear Sister's nerves. + +"Yes, certainly," assented Miss Jennings. "Let me take your arm--step +carefully, and lean on me." + +On reaching the stateroom, Sister Teresa waited until Miss Jennings had +entered, then she locked the door and pulled the curtains close. + +"Listen, Miss Jennings, before you judge me. You remember yesterday how +I pleaded with you to help me find a bedroom where I could be alone. +You would not, and I could do nothing but let matters take their +course. Fate has placed me in your hands. When you said that you were +on the lookout for me and that you knew Hobson, the detective, I knew +that all was lost unless your heart went out to me. I know him, too. I +faced his eyes when I came aboard. I staggered with fright and caught +at the ropes, but he did not suspect--I saw in his face that he did +not. He may still trace me and arrest me when I land. If anybody comes +for me, say you met me in the hospital where you work." + +Nurse Jennings stood staring into the woman's eyes. Her first impulse +was to ring the bell for the Steward and send for the ship's doctor. +Sudden insanity, the result of acute hysteria, was not uncommon in +women leading sedentary lives who had gone through a heavy strain, and +the troubles of this poor Sister had, she saw, unseated her reason. + +"Don't talk so--calm yourself. No one is seeking you. You ought to lie +down. Come--" + +"Yes, I know you think I am crazy--I am crazy--crazy from a horrible +fear that stares me in the face--from a spectre that--" + +"Sister, you MUST lie down! I'll ring for the Doctor and he--" + +Sister Teresa sprang forward and caught the hand of the Nurse before it +touched the bell. + +"Stop! STOP!--or all will be lost! I am not a Sister--I am the +scene-painter--the father of that girl! See!" He threw back his hood, +uncovering his head and exposed his short-cropped hair. + +Nurse Jennings turned quickly and looked her companion searchingly in +the face. The surprise had been so great that for an instant her breath +left her. Then slowly the whole situation rushed over and upon her. +This man had made use of her privacy--had imposed upon her--tricked her. + +"And you--you have dared to come into this room, making me believe you +were a woman--and lied to me about your Hour of Silence and all the--" + +"It was the only way I could be safe. You and everybody else would +detect me if I did not shave and fix up my face. You said a minute ago +the dark rings had gone from my eyes--it is this paint-box that did it. +Think of what it would mean to me to be taken--and my little girl! +Don't--don't judge me wrongly. When I get to New York I promise never +to see you again--no one will ever know. If you had been my own sister +I could not have treated you with more respect since I have been in the +room. I will do anything you wish--to-night I will sleep on the +floor--anything, if--" + +"To-night! Not another hour will you stay here. I will go to the Purser +at once and--" + +"You mean to turn me out?" + +"Yes." + +"Oh, merciful God! Don't! Listen--you MUST listen. Let me stay! What +difference should it make to you. You have nursed hundreds of men. You +have saved many lives. Save mine--give me back my little girl! She can +come to me in Quebec and then we can get away somewhere in America and +be safe. I can still pass as a Sister and she as a child in my charge +until I can find some place where I can throw off my disguise. See how +good the real Sisters are to me; they do not condemn me. Here is a +letter from the Mother Superior in Paris to the Mother Superior of a +convent in Quebec. It is not forged--it is genuine. If they believe in +me, why cannot you? Let me stay here, and you stay, too. You would if +you could see my child." + +The sound of a heavy step was heard outside in the corridor. + +Then came a quick, commanding voice: "Miss Jennings, open the door, +please." + +The Nurse turned quickly and made a step toward the door. The fugitive +sank upon the sofa and drew the hood over his face. + +Again her name rang out--this time in a way that showed them both that +further delay was out of the question. + +Nurse Jennings shot back the bolt. + +Outside stood the First Officer. + +"There has been a bad accident in the steerage. I hate to ask you, Miss +Jennings, knowing how tired you are--but one of the emigrants has +fallen down the forecastle hatch. The Doctor wants you to come at once." + +During the rest of the voyage Nurse Jennings slept in the steerage; she +would send to Number 49 during the day for her several belongings, but +she never passed the night there, nor did she see her companion. The +case was serious, she told the Stewardess, who came in search of her, +and she dared not leave. + +The fugitive rarely left the stateroom. Some days he pleaded illness +and had his meals brought to him; often he ate nothing. + +As the day approached for the vessel to arrive in New York a shivering +nervousness took possession of him. He would stand behind the door by +the hour listening for her lightest footfall, hoping against hope that, +after all, her heart would soften toward him. One thought absorbed him: +would she betray him, and if so, when and where? Would it be to the +First Officer--the friend of Hobson--or would she wait until they +reached New York and then hand him over to the authorities? + +Only one gleam of hope shone out illumining his doubt, and that was +that she never sent to the stateroom during the Hour of Silence, thus +giving him a chance to continue his disguise. Even this ray was dimmed +when he began to realize as they approached their destination that she +had steadily avoided him, even choosing another deck for a breath of +fresh air whenever she left her patient. That she had welcomed the +accident to the emigrant as an excuse for remaining away from her +stateroom was evident. What he could not understand was, if she really +pitied and justified him, as she had done his prototype, why she should +now treat him with such suspicion. At her request he had opened his +heart and had trusted her; why then could she not forgive him for the +deceit of that first night--one for which he was not responsible? + +Then a new thought chilled him like an icy wind: her avoidance of him +was only an evidence of her purpose! Thus far she had not exposed him, +because then it would be known aboard that they had shared the +stateroom together. He saw it all now. She was waiting until they +reached the dock. Then no one would be the wiser. + +When the steamer entered her New York slip and the gangplank was +hoisted aboard, another thick-set, closely-knit man pushed his way +through the crowd at the rail, walked straight to the Purser and +whispered something in his ear. The next moment he had glided to where +the Nurse and fugitive were standing. + +"This is Miss Jennings, isn't it? I'm from the Central Office," and he +opened his coat and displayed the gold shield. "We've just got a cable +from Hobson. He said you were on board and might help. I'm looking for +a man. We've got no clew--don't know that he's on board, but I thought +we'd look the list over. The Purser tells me that you helped the Doctor +in the steerage--says somebody had been smashed up. Got anything to +suggest?--anybody that would fit this description: 'Small man, only +five-feet-six; blue eyes'"--and he read from a paper in his hand. + +"No, I don't think so. I was in the steerage, of course, four or five +days, and helped on a bad case, but I didn't notice anybody but the few +people immediately about me." + +"Perhaps, then, among the first-class passengers? Anybody peculiar +there? He's a slick one, we hear, and may be working a stunt in +disguise." + +"No. To tell you the truth, I was so tired when I came aboard that I +hardly spoke to any one--no one, really, except my dear Sister Teresa +here, who shared my stateroom. They have driven her out of France and +she is on her way to a convent in Quebec. I go with her as far as +Montreal." + + + + +SAM JOPLIN'S EPIGASTRIC NERVE + + +I + +"You eat too much, Marny." It was Joplin, of Boston, who was +speaking--Samuel Epigastric Joplin, his brother painters called him. +"You treat your stomach as if it were a scrap-basket and you dump into +it everything you--" + +"I do? You caricature of a codfish ball!" + +"Yes, you do. You open your mouth, pin back your ears and in go +pickles, red cabbage, Dutch cheese. It's insanity, Marny, and it's +vulgar. No man's epigastric can stand it. It wouldn't make any +difference if you were a kangaroo with your pouch on the outside, but +you're a full-grown man and ought to have some common-sense." + +"And you think that if I followed your idiotic theory it would keep me +out of my coffin, do you? What you want, Joppy, is a square meal. You +never had one, so far as I can find out, since you were born. You drank +sterilized milk at blood temperature until you were five; chewed +patent, unhulled wheat bread until you were ten, and since that time +you've filled your stomach with husks--proteids, and carbohydrates, and +a lot of such truck--isn't that what he calls em, Pudfut?" + +The Englishman nodded in assent. + +"And now just look at you, Joppy, instead of a forty-inch chest--" + +"And a sixty-inch waist," interjected Joplin with a laugh, pointing at +Marny's waistcoat. + +"I acknowledge it, old man, and I'm proud of it," retorted Marny, +patting his rotundity. "Instead, I say, of a decent chest your +shoulders crowd your breast-bone; your epigastric, as you call it--it's +your solar plexus, Joppy--but that's a trifle to an anatomist like +you--your epigastric scrapes your back-bone, so lonely is it for +something warm and digestible to rub up against, and your-- Why, Joppy, +do you know when I look at you and think over your wasted life, my eyes +fill with tears? Eat something solid, old man, and give your stomach a +surprise. Begin now. Dinner's coming up--I smell it. Open your port +nostril, you shrivelled New England bean, and take in the aroma of +beatific pork and greens. Doesn't that put new life into you? Puddy, +you and Schonholz help Joppy to his feet and one or two of you fellows +walk behind to pick up the pieces in case he falls apart before we can +feed him. There's Tine's dinner-bell!" + +White-capped, rosy-checked, bare-armed Tine had rung that bell for this +group of painters for two years past--ever since Mynheer Boudier of the +Bellevue over the way, who once claimed her services, had reproved +Johann, the porter, for blocking up with the hotel trunks that part of +the sidewalk over which the steamboat captain slid his gangplank. +Thereupon Tine slipped her pretty little feet into her white +sabots--she and Johann have been called in church since--and walked +straight over to the Holland Arms. Johann now fights the steamboat +captain, backed not only by the landlord of the Arms, who rubs his +hands in glee over the possession of two of his competitor's best +servants, but by the whole coterie of painters whose boots Johann +blacks, whose kits be packs and unpacks, whose errands he runs; while +Tine, no less loyal and obliging, darns their stockings, mends their +clothes, sews on buttons, washes brushes, stretches canvases, waits on +table, rings the dinner-bell, and with her own hands scrubs every +square inch of visible surface inside and out of this quaint old inn in +this sleepy old town of Dort-on-the-Maas--side-walks, windows, +cobbles--clear to the middle of the street, her ruddy arms bare to the +elbow, her sturdy, blue-yarn-stockinged legs thrust into snow-white +sabots to keep her trim feet from the wet and slop. + +Built in 1620, this inn of the Holland Arms--so the mildewed brick in +the keystone over the arch of the doorway says--and once the home of a +Dutchman made rich by the China trade, whose ships cast anchor where +Fop Smit's steamboats now tie up (I have no interest in the Line); a +grimy, green-moulded, lean-over front and moss-covered, sloping-roof +sort of an inn, with big beams supporting the ceilings of the bedrooms; +lumbering furniture blackened with the smoke of a thousand pipes +flanking the walls of the coffee-room; bits of Delft a century old +lining the mantel; tiny panes of glass with here and there a bull's-eye +illumining the squat windows; rows of mugs with pewter tops crowding +the narrow shelves beside the fireplace, and last, and by no means +least, a big, bulky sun-moon-and-stars clock, with one eye always open, +which strikes the hours as if it meant to beat the very life out of +them. + +But there is something more in this coffee-room--something that neither +Mynheer Boudier of the Bellevue nor any other landlord in any other +hostelry, great or small, up and down the Maas, can boast. This is the +coffee-room picture gallery--free to whoever comes. + +It began with a contribution from the first impecunious painter in +payment of an overdue board-bill, his painting being hung on a nail +beside the clock. Now; all over the walls--above the sideboard with its +pewter plates and queer mugs; over the mantel holding the Delft, and +between the squat windows--are pinned, tacked, pasted and hung--singly +and in groups--sketches in oil, pastel, water color, pencil and +charcoal, many without frames and most of them bearing the signature of +some poor, stranded painter, preceded by the suggestive line, "To my +dear friend, the landlord"--silent reminders all of a small cash +balance which circumstances quite beyond their control had prevented +their liquidating at the precise hour of their departure. + +Mynheer had bowed and smiled as each new contribution was handed him +and straightway had found a hammer and a nail and up it went beside its +fellows. He never made objection: the more the merrier. The ice wind +would soon blow across the Maas from Papendrecht, the tall grasses in +the marshes turn pale with fright, and the lace-frost with busy fingers +pattern the tiny panes, and then Johann would pack the kits one after +another, and the last good-byes take place. But the sketches would +remain. Oh! yes, the sketches would remain and tell the story of the +summer and every night new mugs would be filled around the coal-fire, +and new pipes lighted--mugs and pipes of the TOWNSPEOPLE this time, who +came to feast their eyes,--and, although the summer was gone, the long +winter would still be his. No, Mynheer never objected! + +And this simple form of settlement--a note of hand (in color), payable +in yearly patronage--has not been confined to modern times. Many an inn +owes its survival to a square of canvas--the head of a child, a copper +pot, or stretch of dune; and more than one collector now boasts of a +masterpiece which had hung for years on some taproom wall, a sure but +silent witness of the poverty of a Franz Hals, Wouverman or Van der +Helst. + +Each year had brought new additions to the impecunious group about +Mynheer's table. + +Dear old Marny, with his big boiler amidships, his round, sunburned +face shaded by a wide-brimmed, slouch hat--the one he wore when he +lived with the Sioux Indians--loose red tie tossed over one shoulder, +and rusty velveteen coat, was an old habitue. And so was dry, crusty +Malone, "the man from Dublin," rough outside as a potato and white +inside as its meal. And so, too, was Stebbins, the silent man of the +party, and the only listener in the group. All these came with the +earliest birds and stayed until the boys got out their skates. + +But there were others this year who were new. Pudfut, the Englishman, +first--in from Norway, where he had been sketching on board some lord's +yacht--he of the grizzly brown beard, brown ulster reaching to his +toes, gray-checked steamer-cap and brierwood pipe--an outfit which he +never changed--"slept in them," Marny insisted. + +"Me name's Pudfut," he began, holding out his hand to Marny. "I've got +a letter in my clothes for ye from a chap in Paris." + +"Don't pull it out," had come the answer. "Put it there!" and within an +hour the breezy fellow, his arm through the Englishman's, had trotted +him all over Dort from the Groote Kerk to the old Gate of William of +Orange, introducing him to every painter he met on the way, first as +Pudfut, then as Puddy, then as Pretty-foot, then as Tootsie-Wootsie, +and last as Toots--a name by which he is known in the Quartier to this +day. This done, he had taken him up to his own room and had dumped him +into an extra cot--his for the rest of the summer. + +Then Schonholz wandered in--five gulden a week board was the magnet--a +cheese-faced, good-natured German lad with forehead so high that when +he raised his hat Marny declared, with a cry of alarm, that his scalp +had slipped, and only regained his peace of mind when he had twisted +his fat fingers in the lad's forelock to make sure that it was still +fast. Schonholz had passed a year at Heidelberg and carried his diploma +on his cheek--two crisscross slashes that had never healed--spoke +battered English, wore a green flat-topped cap, and gray bobtailed coat +with two rows of horn buttons ("Come to shoot chamois, have you?" Marny +had asked when he presented his credentials.)--laughed three-quarters +of the time he was awake, and never opened his kit or set a palette +while he was in Dort. "Too vet and too fodgy all dime," was the way he +accounted for his laziness. + +Last came Joplin--a man of thirty-five; bald as an egg and as shiny. +("Dangerous to have a hen around," Marny would say, rubbing the pate +after the manner of a phrenologist.) Gaunt, wiry; jerky in his +movements as a Yankee clock and as regular in his habits: hot water +when he got up--two glasses, sipped slowly; cold water when he went to +bed, head first, feet next, then the rest of him; window open all night +no matter how hard it blew or rained; ate three meals a day and no +more; chewed every mouthful of food thirty times--coffee, soup, even +his drinking-water (Gladstone had taught him that, he boasted)--a +walking laboratory of a man, who knew it all, took no layman's advice, +and was as set in his ways as a chunk of concrete. + +And his fads did not stop with his food; they extended to his +clothes--everything he used, in fact. His baggy knickerbockers ended in +leather leggins to protect his pipe-stem shanks; his shirts buttoned +all the way down in front and went on like a coat; he wore health +flannels by day and a health shirt at night ("Just like my old Aunt +Margaret's wrapper," whispered Marny in a stage voice to Pudfut); +sported a ninety-nine-cent silver watch fastened to a leather strap +(sometimes to a piece of twine); stuck a five-hundred-dollar scarab pin +in his necktie--"Nothing finer in the Boston Museum," he maintained, +and told the truth--and ever and always enunciated an English so pure +and so undefiled that Stebbins, after listening to it for a few +minutes, proposed, with an irreverence born of good-fellowship, that a +subscription be started to have Joplin's dialect phonographed so that +it might be handed down to posterity as the only real and correct thing. + +"Are you noticing, gentlemen, the way in which Joplin handles his +mother tongue?" Stebbins had shouted across the table: "never drops his +'g's,' never slights his first syllable; says 'HUmor' with an accent on +the 'HU.' But for the fact that he pronounces 'bonnet' 'BUNNIT' and +'admires' a thing when he really ought only to 'like' it, you could +never discover his codfish bringing up. Out with your wallets--how much +do you chip in?" + +These peculiarities soon made Joplin the storm-centre of every +discussion. Not only were his views on nutrition ridiculed, but all his +fads were treated with equal disrespect. "Impressionism," "plein air," +the old "line engraving" in contrast to the modern "half-tone" +methods--any opinion of Joplin's, no matter how sane or logical, was +jostled, sat on, punched in the ribs and otherwise maltreated until +every man was breathless or black in the face with assumed rage--every +man except the man jostled, who never lost his temper no matter what +the provocation, and who always came up smiling with some such remark +as: "Smite away, you Pharisees; harmony is heavenly--but stupid. Keep +it up--here's the other cheek!" + +On this particular night Joplin, as I have said, had broken out on +diet. Some movement of Marny's connected with the temporary relief of +the lower button of his waistcoat had excited the great Bostonian's +wrath. The men were seated at dinner inside the coffee-room, Johann and +Tine serving. + +"Yes, Marny, I'm sorry to say it, but the fact is you eat too much and +you eat the wrong things. If you knew anything of the kinds of food +necessary to nourish the human body, you would know that it should +combine in proper proportions proteid, fats, carbohydrates and a small +percentage of inorganic salts--these are constantly undergoing +oxidation and at the same time are liberating energy in the form of +heat." + +"Hear the bloody bounder!" bawled Pudfut from the other end of the +table. + +"Silence!" called Marny, with his ear cupped in his fingers, an +expression of the farthest-away-boy-in-the-class on his face. + +Joplin waved his hand in protest and continued, without heeding the +interruption: "Now, if you're stupid enough to stuff your epigastrium +with pork, you, of course, get an excess of non-nitrogenous fats, and +in order to digest anything properly you must necessarily cram in an +additional quantity of carbohydrates--greens, potatoes, +cabbage--whatever Tine shoves under your nose. Consult any scientist +and see if I am not right--especially the German doctors who have made +a specialty of nutrition. Such men as Fugel, Beenheim and--" + +Here a slice of Tine's freshly-cut bread made a line-shot, struck the +top of Joplin's scalp, caromed on Schonholz's shirt-front and fell into +Stebbins's lap, followed instantly by "Order, gentlemen!" from Marny. +"Don't waste that slab of proteid. The learned Bean is most interesting +and should not be interrupted." + +"Better out than in," continued Joplin, brushing the crumbs from his +plate. "Bread--fresh bread particularly--is the very worst thing a man +can put into his stomach." + +"And how about pertaties?" shouted Malone. "I s'pose ye'd rob us of the +only thing that's kep' us alive as a nation, wouldn't ye?" + +"I certainly would, 'Loney, except in very small quantities. Raw +potatoes contain twenty-two per cent. of the worst form of +non-nitrogenous food, and seventy-eight per cent. of water. You, +Malone, with your sedentary habits, should never touch an ounce of +potato. It excites the epigastric nerve and induces dyspepsia. You're +as lazy as the devil and should only eat nitrogenous food and never in +excess. What you require is about one hundred grams of protein, giving +you a fuel value of twenty-seven hundred calories, and to produce this +fifty-five ounces of food a day is enough. When you exceed this you run +to flesh--unhealthy bloat really--and in the wrong places. You've only +to look at Marny's sixty-inch waist-line to prove the truth of this +theory. Now look at me--I keep my figure, don't I? Not a bad one for a +light-weight, is it? I'm in perfect health, can run, jump, eat, sleep, +paint, and but for a slight organic weakness with my heart, which is +hereditary in my family and which kills most of us off at about seventy +years of age, I'm as sound as a nut. And all--all, let me tell you, due +to my observing a few scientific laws regarding hygiene which you men +never seem to have heard of." + +Malone now rose to his feet, pewter mug in hand, and swept his eye +around the table. + +"Bedad, you're right, Joppy," he said with a wink at Marny--"food's the +ruination of us all; drink is what we want. On yer feet, +gintlemen--every mother's son of ye! Here's to the learned, livin' +skeleton from Boston! Five per cint. man and ninety-five per cint. +crank!" + + + +II + +The next morning the group of painters--all except Joplin, who was +doing a head in "smears" behind the Groote Kerk a mile away--were at +work in the old shipyard across the Maas at Papendrecht. Marny was +painting a Dutch lugger with a brown-madder hull and an emerald-green +stern, up on the ways for repairs. Pudfut had the children of the +Captain posed against a broken windlass rotting in the tall grass near +the dock, and Malone and Schonholz, pipe in mouth, were on their backs +smoking. "It wasn't their kind of a mornin'," Malone had said. + +Joplin's discourse the night before was evidently lingering in their +minds, for Pudfut broke out with: "Got to sit on Joppy some way or +we'll be talked to death," and he squeezed a tube of color on his +palette. "Getting to be a bloody nuisance." + +"Only one way to fix him," remarked Stebbins, picking up his mahlstick +from the grass beside him. + +"How?" came a chorus. + +"Scare him to death." + +The painters laid down their brushes. Stebbins rarely expressed an +opinion; any utterance from him, therefore, carried weight. + +"Go for him about his health, I tell you," continued Stebbins, dragging +a brush from the sheaf in his hand. + +"But there's nothing the matter with him," answered Marny. "He's as +skinny as a coal-mine mule, but he's got plenty of kick in him yet." + +"You're dead right, Marny," answered Stebbins, "but he doesn't think +so. He's as big a fool over every little pain as he is over his +theories." + +"Niver cracked his jaw to me about it," sputtered Malone from between +the puffs of his pipe. + +"No, and he won't. I don't jump on him as you fellows do and so I get +his confidence. He's in my room two or three times every night going +over his symptoms. When his foot's asleep he thinks he's got creeping +paralysis. Every time his breath comes short, his heart's giving out." + +"That's hereditary!" said Marny; "he said so." + +"Hereditary be hanged! Same with everything else. Last night he dug me +out of bed and wanted me to count his pulse--thought it intermitted. +He's hipped, I tell you, on his health!" + +"That's because he lives on nothing," rejoined Marny. "Tine puts the +toast in the oven over night so it will be dry enough for him in the +morning--she told me so yesterday. Now he's running on sour milk and +vinegar--'blood too alkaline,' he says--got a chalky taste in his +mouth!" + +"Well, whatever it is, he's a rum-nuisance," said Pudfut, "and he ought +to be jumped on." + +"Yes," retorted Stebbins, "but not about his food. Jump on him about +his health, then he'll kick back and in pure obstinacy begin to think +he's well--that's his nature." + +"Don't you do anything of the kind," protested Marny. "Joppy's all +right--best lad I know. Let him talk; doesn't hurt anybody and keeps +everything alive. A little hot air now and then helps his epigastric." + +Malone and Schonholz had raised themselves on their elbows, twisted +their shoulders and had put their heads together--literally--without +lifting their lazy bodies from the warm, dry grass--so close that one +slouch hat instead of two might have covered their conspiring brains. +From under the rims of these thatches came smothered laughs and such +unintelligible mutterings as: + +"Dot's de vay, by chimminy, 'Loney! And den I--" + +"No, begorra! Let me have a crack at him fu'st!" + +"No, I vill before go and you come--" + +"Not a word to Marny, remimber; he'd give it away--" + +"Yes, but we vill tell Poodfut und Sthebbins, eh?" + +That afternoon the diabolical plot was put in motion. The men had +finished for the day; had crossed the ferry and had found Joplin +wandering around the dock looking for a new subject. The Groote Kerk +"smear" was under his arm. + +Pudfut, under pretence of inspecting the smear--a portrait of the old +Sacristan on a bench in front of the main entrance--started back in +surprise on seeing the Bostonian, and asked with an anxious tone in his +voice: + +"Aren't you well, old man? Look awfully yellow about the gills. Worked +too hard, haven't you? No use overdoing it." + +"Well? Of course I'm well! Sound as a nut. Little bilious, maybe, but +that's nothing. Why?" + +"Oh, nothing! Must say, though, you gave me a twist when I came on you +suddenly. Maybe it's your epigastric nerve; maybe it's your liver and +will pass off, but I'd knock off work for a day or two if I were you." + +Malone now took a hand. + +"Let me carry yer kit, Joppy, ye look done up. What's happened to ye, +man, since mornin'?" + +"Never felt better in my life," protested Joplin. "No, I'll carry +it--not heavy--" + +Then he quickened his pace--they were all on their way back to the +inn--and overtook Stebbins and Schonholz. + +"Stebbins, old man--" + +"Yes, Joppy." + +"What I told you last night is turning out just as I expected. Heart's +been acting queer all morning and my epigastric nerve is very +sensitive. Puddy says I look awful. Do you see it?" + +Stebbins looked into the Bostonian's face, hesitated, and said with an +apologetic tone in his voice: + +"Well, everybody looks better one time than another. You've been +working too hard, maybe." + +"But do I look yellow?" + +"Well, to tell you the truth, Joppy, you do--yellow as a gourd--not +always, just now and then when you walk fast or run upstairs." + +"I've been afraid of that. Was my pulse all right when you counted it +last night?" + +"Yes, certainly--skipped a beat now and then, but that's nothing. I had +an uncle once who had a pulse that wobbled like that. He, of course, +went off suddenly; some said it was apoplexy; some said it was his +heart--these doctors never agree. I wouldn't worry about it, old man. +Hold on, Pudfut, don't walk so fast." + +Pudfut held on, and so did Schonholz and Malone, and then the four +slipped behind a pile of oil barrels and concentrated their slouch hats +and Schonholz slapped his thigh and said with a smothered laugh that it +was "sphlendeed!" and Malone and Pudfut agreed, and then the three +locked arms and went singing up the street, their eyes on Joplin's +pipe-stem legs as he trotted beside Marny on his way to the inn. + +When the party reached the coffee-room Marny called Tine to his side, +spread out the fingers and thumb of one hand, and that rosy-cheeked +lass without the loss of a second, clattered over to the little shelf, +gathered up five empty mugs and disappeared down the cellar steps. This +done the coterie drew their chairs to one of Tine's hand-scrubbed +tables and sat down, all but Joplin, who kept on his way to his room. +There the Bostonian remained, gazing out of the window until Johann had +banged twice on his door in announcement of dinner. Then he joined the +others. + +When all were seated Schonholz made a statement which was followed with +results more astounding to the peace of the coterie than anything which +had occurred since the men came together. + +"I haf bad news, boys," he began, "offle bad news. Mine fader has wrote +dat home I must. Nod anuder mark he say vill he gif me. Eef I could +sell somedings--but dat ees very seldom. No, Marny, you don't can lend +me noddings. What vill yourselluf do? Starve!" + +"Where do you live, Schonholz?" asked Joplin. + +"By Fizzenbad." + +"What kind of a place is it--baths?" + +"Yes." + +"What are they good for?" continued Joplin in a subdued tone. + +"Noddings, but blenty peoples go." + +"I can tell you, Joppy," said Pudfut gravely, with a wink at Malone. +"There are two spas, both highly celebrated. Lord Ellenboro spent a +month there and came back looking like another man. One is for the +liver and the other for something or other, I can't recollect what." + +"Heart?" asked Joplin. + +"I don't know." + +He didn't,--had never heard the place mentioned until Schonholz had +called its name a moment before. + +Joplin played with his knife and made an attempt to nibble a slice of +Tine's toast, but he made no reply. All the fight of every kind seemed +to have been knocked out of him. + +"Better take Fizzenbad in, Joppy," remarked Pudfut in an undertone. +"May do you a lot of good." + +"How far is it, Schonholz?" asked Joplin, ignoring the Englishman's +suggestion. + +"Oh, you leafe in de morgen and you come by Fizzenbad in a day more as +do one you go oud mid." + +"No--can't afford it." + +Here Joplin pushed back his chair, and with the remark that he thought +he would go downtown for some colors, left the room. + +"It's working like a dose of salts," cried Pudfut when the Bostonian +was out of hearing. "Hasn't said 'epigastric nerve,' 'gram' or +'proteids' once. Got real human in an hour. Stebbins, you're a wonder." + +The next morning everybody was up bright and early to see Schonholz +off. One of Fop Smit's packets was to leave for Rotterdam at seven and +Schonholz was a passenger. He could go by rail, but the boat was +cheaper. No deceptions had been practised and no illusions indulged in +as to the cause of his departure. He had had his supplies cut off, was +flat broke and as helpless as a plant without water. They had all, at +one time or another, passed through a similar crisis and knew exactly +what it meant. A purse, of course, could have been made up--Marny even +insisted on sharing his last hundred francs with him--and Mynheer would +have allowed the board-bill to run on indefinitely with or without an +addition to his collection, but the lad was not built along those lines. + +"No--I go home and help mine fader once a leetle, den maybe I come +back, don't it?" was the way he put it. + +The next morning, when the procession formed to escort him through the +Old Gate, every man answered to his name except Joplin--he had either +overslept himself or was taking an extra soak in his portable tub. + +"Run, Tine, and call Mr. Joplin," cried Marny--"we'll go ahead. Tell +him to come to the dock." + +Away clattered the sabots up the steep stairs, and away they scurried +down the bare corridor to Joplin's room. There Tine knocked. Hearing no +response she pushed open the door and looked in. The room was empty! +Then she noticed that the bed had not been slept in, nor had anything +on the washstand been used. Stepping in softly for some explanation of +the unusual occurrence--no such thing had ever happened in her +experience, not unless she had been notified in advance--her eye rested +on a letter addressed to Stebbins propped up in full view against a +book on Joplin's table. Catching it up as offering the only explanation +of his unaccountable disappearance, she raced downstairs and, crossing +the cobbles on a run, laid the letter in Stebbins's hand. + +"For me, Tine?" + +The girl nodded, her eyes on the painter's. + +The painter broke the seal and his face grew serious. Then he beckoned +to Marny and read the contents aloud, the others crowding close: + +Dear Stebbins: + +Keep my things until I send for them. I take the night train for +Rotterdam. Tell Schonholz I'll join him there and go on with him to +Fizzenbad. Sorry to leave this way, but I could not bear to bid you all +good-by. Joplin. + + + +III + +That night the table was one prolonged uproar. The conspirators had +owned up frankly to their share of the villany, and were hard at work +concocting plans for its undoing. Marny was the one man in the group +that would not be pacified; nothing that either Pudfut, Stebbins or +Malone had said or could say changed his mind--and the discussion, +which had lasted all day, brought him no peace. + +"Drove him out!--that's what you did, you bull-headed Englishman--you +and Malone and Stebbins ought to be ashamed of yourselves. If I had +known what you fellows were up to I'd have pitched you all over the +dike. Cost Joppy a lot of money and break up all his summer work! What +did you want to guy him like that for and send him off to be scalded +and squirted on in a damned Dutch--" + +"But we didn't think he'd take it as hard as that." + +"You didn't, didn't you! What DID you think he'd do? Didn't you see how +sensitive and nervous he was? The matter with you fellows is that Joppy +is a thoroughbred and you never saw one of his kind in your life. Ever +since he got here you've done nothing but jump all over him and try to +rile him, and he never squawked once--came up smiling every time. He's +a thoroughbred--that's what he is!" + +The days that followed were burdened with a sadness the coterie could +not shake off. Whatever they had laughed at and derided in Joplin they +now longed for. The Bostonian may have been a nuisance in one way, but +he had kept the ball of conversation rolling--had started it many +times--and none of the others could fill his place. Certain of his +views became respected. "As dear old Joppy used to say," was a common +expression, and "By Jove, he was right!" not an uncommon opinion. In +conformity with his teachings, Marny reduced his girth measure an inch +and his weight two pounds--not much for Marny, but extraordinary all +the same when his appetite was considered. + +Pudfut, in contrition of his offence, wrote his English friend Lord +Something-or-other, who owned the yacht, and who was at Carlsbad, +begging him to run up and see the "best ever" and "one of us"--and +Malone never lost an opportunity to say how quick he was in repartee, +or how he missed him. Stebbins kept his mouth shut. + +He had started the crusade, he knew, and was personally responsible for +the result. He had tried to arouse Joplin's obstinacy and had only +aroused his fears. All he could do in reparation was to keep in touch +with the exile and pave the way for his homecoming. If Joppy was ill, +which he doubted, some of the German experts in whom the Bostonian +believed would find the cause and the remedy. If he was "sound as a +nut," to quote Joplin's own words, certainty of that fact, after an +exhaustive examination by men he trusted, would relieve his nervous +mind and make him all the happier. + +The first letter came from Schonholz. Liberally translated, with the +assistance of Mynheer, who spoke a little German, it conveyed the +information that the Bostonian, after being put on a strict diet, had +been douched, pounded and rubbed; was then on his second week of +treatment; had one more to serve; was at the moment feeling like a +fighting-cock, and after a fifth week at Stuckbad, in the mountains, +where he was to take the after-cure, would be as strong as a +three-year-old, and as frisky. + +The second letter was from Joplin himself and was addressed to +Stebbins. This last was authentic, and greatly relieved the situation. +It read: + +Nothing like a thoroughly trained expert, my dear Stebbins. These +German savants fill me with wonder. The moment Dr. Stuffen fixed his +eyes upon me he read my case like an open book. No nitrogenous food of +any kind, was his first verdict; hot douches and complete rest packed +in wet compresses, the next. I am losing flesh, of course, but it is +only the "deadwood" of the body, so to speak. This Dr. Stuffen expects +to replace with new shoots--predicts I will weigh forty pounds more--a +charming and, to me, a most sane theory. You will be delighted also to +hear that my epigastric nerve hasn't troubled me since I arrived. Love +to the boys, whom I expect to see before the month is out. Joppy. + + +"Forty pounds heavier!" cried Marny from his end of the table. "He'll +look like a toy balloon in knee pants. Bully for Joppy! I wouldn't let +any Schweizerkase with a hot douche get within a hundred yards of me, +but then I'm not a bunch of nerves like Joppy. Anyhow, boys, we'll give +the lad a welcome that will raise the roof. Joppy thin was pretty good +fun, but Joppy fat will be a roaring farce." + +And so it was decided, and at once all sorts and kinds of welcomes were +discussed, modified, rearranged and discussed again. Pudfut suggested +meeting him in Rotterdam and having a night of it. Malone thought of +chartering a steam launch, hiring a band and bringing him past the +towns with flags flying. Stebbins and Marny favored some demonstration +nearer home, where everybody could join in. + +The programme finally agreed upon included a pathway of boughs strewn +with wild flowers from the steamboat landing, across the planking, over +the cobbles, under the old Gate of William of Orange, and so on to the +door of the inn; the appointment of Tine, dressed in a Zeeland costume +belonging to her grand-mother, as special envoy, to meet him with a +wreath of laurel, and Johann in short clothes--also heirlooms--was to +walk by his side as First Groom of the Bed Chamber. + +The real Reception Committee, consisting of Mynheer in a burgomaster +suit borrowed from a friend, and the four painters--Marny as a Dutch +Falstaff, Pudfut as a Spanish Cavalier, Stebbins got up as a Night +Watch, and Malone in the costume of a Man-at-Arms--all costumes loaned +for the occasion by the antiquary in the next street--were to await +Joplin's coming in the privacy of the Gate--almost a tunnel--and so +close to the door of the inn that it might have passed for a part of +the establishment itself. + +Meantime the four painters were to collect material for the decoration +of the coffee-room--wreaths of greens over the mantel and festoons of +ivy hanging down the back of Joplin's chair being prominent features; +while Mynheer, Tine and Johann were to concentrate their energies in +preparing a dinner the like of which had never been eaten since the +sluiceways in the dikes drowned out the Spanish duke. Not a word of all +this, of course, had reached the ears of the Bostonian. Half, +three-quarters, if not all, the enjoyment of the occasion would be +realized when they looked on Joplin's face and read his surprise. + + + +IV + +The eventful day at last arrived. Stebbins, as prearranged, had begged +the exile to telegraph the exact hour of his departure and mode of +travel from Rotterdam, suggesting the boat as being by far the best, +and Joplin had answered in return that Fop Smit's packet, due at +sundown the following day, would count him among its passengers. + +The deep tones of the whistle off Papendrecht sent every man to his +post, the villagers standing back in amazement at the extraordinary +spectacle, especially at Tine and Johann in their queer clothes, who, +being instantly recognized, were plied with questions. + +The boat slowed down; made fast; out came the gangplank; ashore went +the little two-wheel carts drawn by the sleepy, tired dogs; then the +baskets of onions were rolled off, and the few barrels of freight, and +then two or three passengers--among them a small, feeble man, in a long +coat reaching to his heels--made their way to the dock. + +NO JOPPY!! + +"That's the last man to come ashore here," said Marny. "What's become +of the lad?" + +"Maybe he's gone aft," cried Stebbins; "maybe--" + +Here Tine gave a little scream, dropped her wreath and running toward +the small, feeble man, threw her arms around his neck. Marny and the +others bounded over the cobbles, tossing the bystanders out of the way +as they forged ahead. When they reached Joplin he was still clinging to +Tine, his sunken cheeks and hollow deep-set eyes telling only too +plainly how great an effort he was making to keep on his legs. The four +painters formed a close bodyguard and escorted their long-lost brother +to the inn. + +Mynheer, in his burgomaster suit, met the party at the door, conducted +them inside and silently drew out the chairs at the coffee-room table. +He was too overcome to speak. + +Joplin dropped into the one hung with ivy and rested his hands on the +table. + +"Lord! how good it is to get here!" he said, gazing about him, a +tremble in his voice. "You don't know what I've gone through, boys." + +"Why, we thought you were getting fat, Joppy," burst out Marny at last. +Up to this time his voice, like that of the others, seemed to have left +him, so great was his surprise and anxiety. + +Joplin waved his forefinger toward Marny in a deprecatory way, as if +the memory of his experience was too serious for discussion, played +with his fork a moment, and said slowly: + +"Will you lay it up against me, fellows, if I tell you the truth? I'm +not as strong as I was and a good deal of the old fight is out of me." + +"Lay up nothin'!" cried Malone. "And when it comes to fightin' ye kin +count on me every--" + +"Dry up!" broke in Marny. "You're way off, Malone. No, Joppy, not a man +here will open his head: say the rest." + +"Well, then, listen," continued the Bostonian. "I did everything they +told me: got up at daylight; walked around the spring seven times; +sipped the water; ate what they prescribed; lay in wet sheets two hours +every day; was kneaded by a man with a chest as hairy as a satyr's and +arms like a blacksmith's; stood up and was squirted at; had everything +about me looked into--even stuck needles in my arm for a sample of my +blood; and at the end of three weeks was so thin that my trousers had +to be lapped over in the back under a leather strap to keep them above +my hips, and my coat hung down as if it were ashamed of me. Doctor +Stuffen then handed me a certificate and his bill. This done he stood +me up and repeated this formula--has it printed--all languages: + +"'You have now thrown from your system every particle of foul tissues, +Mr.--, ah, yes--Mr. Joblin, I believe.' And he looked at the paper. +'You thought you were reasonably fat, Mr. Joblin. You were not fat, you +were merely bloated. Go now to Stuckbad for two weeks. There you will +take the after-cure; keep strictly to the diet, a list of which I now +hand you. At the expiration of that time you will be a strong man. +Thank you--my secretary will send you a receipt.' + +"Well, I went to Stuckbad--crawled really--put up at the hotel and sent +for the resident doctor, Professor Ozzenbach, Member of the Board of +Pharmacy of Berlin, Specialist on Nutrition, Fellow of the Royal +Society of Bacteriologists, President of the Vienna Association of +Physiological Research--that kind of man. He looked me all over and +shook his head. He spoke broken English--badly. + +"'Who has dreated you, may I ask, Meester Boblin?' + +"'Doctor Stuffen, at Fizzenbad.' + +"'Ah, yes, a fery goot man, but a leedle de times behindt. Vat did you +eat?' + +"I handed him the list. + +"'No vonder dot you are thin, my frent--yoost as I oxpected--dis ees de +olt deory of broteids. Dot is all oxbloded now. Eef you haf stay anuder +mont you vould be dead. Everyting dot he has dold you vas yoost de +udder way; no bread, no meelk, no vegebubbles--noddings of dis, not von +leedle bit. I vill make von leest--come to-morrow.'" + +"Did you go, Joppy?" inquired Stebbins. + +"DID _I_ GO? Yes, back to the depot and on to Cologne. That night I ate +two plates of sauerkraut, a slice of pork and a piece of cheese the +size of my hand; slept like a top." + +"So the proteids and carbohydrates didn't do your epigastric any good, +old chap," remarked Pudfut in an effort to relieve the gloom. + +"Proteids, carbohydrates and my epigastric be damned," exploded Joplin. +"On your feet, boys, all of you. Here's to the food of our fathers, +with every man a full plate. And here's to dear old Marny, the human +kangaroo. May his appetite never fail and his paunch never shrink!" + + + + +MISS BUFFUM'S NEW BOARDER + + +I + +He was seated near the top end of Miss Buffum's table when I first saw +his good-natured face with its twinkling eyes, high cheekbones and +broad, white forehead in strong contrast to the wizened, almost sour, +visage of our landlady. Up to the time of his coming every one had +avoided that end, or had gradually shifted his seat, gravitating slowly +toward the bottom, where the bank clerk, the college professor and I +hobnobbed over our soup and boiled mutton. + +It was his laugh that attracted my attention--the first that had come +from the upper end of the table in the memory of the oldest boarder. +Men talk of the first kiss, the first baby, the first bluebird in the +spring, but to me, who have suffered and know, the first, sincere, +hearty laugh, untrammelled and unlimited, that rings down the +hide-bound table of a dismal boarding-house, carries with it a surprise +and charm that outclasses them all. The effect on this occasion was +like the opening of a window letting in a gust of pure air. Some of the +more sensitive shivered at its freshness, and one woman raised her +eyeglasses in astonishment, but all the rest craned their heads in the +new boarder's direction, their faces expressing their enjoyment. As for +Miss Buffum and the schoolmistress, they so far forgot themselves as to +join audibly in the merriment. + +What the secret of the man's power, or why the schoolteacher--who sat +on Miss Buffum's right--should have become suddenly hilarious, or how +Miss Buffum herself could be prodded or beguiled into smiles, no one at +my end of the table could understand; and yet, as the days went by, it +became more and more evident that not only were these two cold, brittle +exteriors being slowly thawed out, but that every one else within the +sound of his seductive voice was yielding to his influence. Stories +that had lain quiet in our minds for months for lack of a willing or +appreciative ear, or had been told behind our hands,--small pipings +most of them of club and social gossip, now became public property, +some being bowled along the table straight at the new boarder, who sent +his own rolling back in exchange, his big, sonorous voice filling the +room as he replied with accounts of his life in Poland among the +peasants; of his experiences in the desert; of a shipwreck off the +coast of Ceylon in which he was given up for lost; of a trip he made +across the Russian steppes in a sleigh--each adventure ending in some +strangely humorous situation which put the table in a roar. + +None of these narratives, however, solved the mystery of his identity +or of his occupation. All our good landlady knew was that he had driven +up in a hack one afternoon, bearing a short letter of introduction from +a former lodger--a man who had lived abroad for the previous ten +years--introducing Mr. Norvic Bing; that after its perusal she had +given him the second-story front room, at that moment empty--a fact +that had greatly influenced her--and that he had at once moved in. His +trunks--there were two of them--had, she remembered, been covered with +foreign labels (and still were)--all of which could be verified by any +one who had a right to know and who would take the trouble to inspect +his room when he was out, which occurred every day between ten in the +morning and six in the afternoon, and more often between six in the +afternoon and ten the next morning. The slight additional information +she possessed came from the former lodger's letter, which stated that +the bearer, Mr. Norvic Bing, was a native of Denmark, that he was +visiting America for the first time, and that, desiring a place where +he could live in complete retirement, the writer had recommended Miss +Buffum's house. + +As to who he was in his own country--and he certainly must have been +some one of importance, judging from his appearance--and what the +nature of his business, these things did not concern the dear lady in +the least. He was courteous, treated her with marked respect, was +exceedingly agreeable, and had insisted--and this she stated was the +one particular thing that endeared him to her--had insisted on paying +his board a MONTH IN ADVANCE, instead of waiting until the thirty days +had elapsed. His excuse for this unheard-of idiosyncrasy was that he +might some day be suddenly called away, too suddenly even to notify her +of his departure, and that he did not want either his belongings or his +landlady's mind disturbed during his absence. + +Miss Buffum's summing up of Bing's courtesy and affability was shared +by every one at my end of the table, although some of them differed as +regarded his origin and occupation. + +"Looks more like an Englishman than a Dane," said the bank clerk; +"although I don't know any Danes. But he's a daisy, anyhow, and ought +to have his salary raised for being so jolly." + +"I don't agree with you," rejoined the professor. "He is unquestionably +a Scandinavian--you can see that in the high cheekbones and flat nose. +He is evidently studying our people with a view of writing a book. +Nothing else would persuade a man of his parts to live here. I lived in +just such a place the winter I spent in Dresden. You want to get close +to the people when you study their peculiarities. But whoever he is, or +wherever he comes from, he is a most delightful gentleman--perfectly +simple, and so sincere that it is a pleasure to hear him talk." + +As for myself, I am ashamed to say that I did not agree with either the +bank clerk or the professor. Although I admitted Mr. Bing's wide +experience of men and affairs, and his marvellous powers of +conversation, I could not divest myself of the conviction that +underneath it all there lay something more than a mere desire to be +either kindly or entertaining; in fact, that his geniality, though +outwardly spontaneous, was really a cloak to hide another side of his +nature--a fog into which he retreated--and that some day the real man +would be revealed. + +I made no mention of my misgivings to any of my fellow-boarders. My +knowledge of men of his class--brilliant conversationalists with a +world-wide experience to draw upon--was slight, and my grounds for +doubting his sincerity were so devoid of proof that few persons would +have considered them anything but the product of a disordered mind. + +And yet I still held to my opinion. + +I had caught something, I fancied, that the others had missed. It +occurred one night after he had told a story and was waiting for the +laugh to subside. Soon a strange, weary expression crept over his +face--the same look that comes into the face of a clown who has been +hurt in a tumble and who, while wrestling with the pain, still keeps +his face a-grin. Suddenly, from out of his merry, smooth-shaven face, +there came a flash from his eyes so searching, so keen, so suspicious, +so entirely unlike the man we knew, so foreign to his mood at the +moment, that I instantly thought of the burglar peering through the +painted spectacles of the family portrait while he watched his +unconscious victim counting his gold. + +This conviction so possessed me that I found myself for days after +peering into Bing's face, watching for its repetition--so much so that +the professor asked me with a laugh: + +"Has Mr. Bing hypnotized you as badly as he has the ladies? They hang +on his every word. Curious study of the effect of mind on matter, isn't +it?" + +The second time I caught the strange flash was BEFORE he had told his +story--when his admonitory glance--his polite way of compelling +attention--was sweeping the table. In its course his eyes rested for an +instant on mine, kindled with suspicion, and then there flashed from +their depths a light that seemed to illuminate every corner of my +brain. When I looked again his face was wreathed in smiles, his eyes +sparkling with merriment. Instantly my doubts returned with redoubled +force. What had he found in that instantaneous flash, I wondered? Had +he read my thoughts, or had he, from his place behind the painted +canvas, caught some expression on some victim's face which had roused +his fears? + +Then a delightful thing happened to me. I was but a young fellow trying +to get a foothold in literature, who had never been out of his own +country, and who spoke no tongue but his own; he was a man of the +world, a traveller over the globe and speaking five languages. + +"If you're not going out," he said, that same night, "come and have a +smoke with me." This in his heartiest manner, laying his hand on my +shoulder as he spoke. "You'll find me in my room. I've some books that +may interest you, and we can continue our talk by my coal-fire. Come +with me now." + +We had had no special talk--none that I could remember. I recalled that +I had asked him an irrelevant question after the flash had vanished, +and that he had answered me in return--but no talk followed. + +"I never invite any one up here," he began when we reached his room; +"the place is so small" Here he closed the door, drew up the only +armchair in the room and placed me in it--"but it is large enough for a +place to crawl into and sleep--much larger, I can tell you, than I have +had in many other parts of the world. I can write here, too, without +interruption. What else do we want, really?--To be warm, to be fed and +then to have some congenial spirits about us! I am quite happy, I +assure you, with all those dear, good people downstairs. They are so +kind, and they are so human, and they are all honest, each in his way, +which is always refreshing to me. Most people, you know, are not +honest." And he looked me over curiously. + +I made no answer except to nod my assent. My eyes were wandering over +the room in the endeavor to find something to confirm my +suspicions--over the two trunks with their labels; over a desk +littered, piled, crammed with papers; over the mantel, on which was +spread a row of photographs, among them the portrait of a +distinguished-looking woman with a child resting in her lap, and next +to it that of a man in uniform. + +"Yes--some of my friends across the sea." I had not asked him--he had +read my mind. "This one you did not see--I keep it behind the +others--three of them, like a little pair of steps--all I have left. +The oldest is named Olga, and that little one in the middle, with the +cap on her head--that is Pauline." + +"Your children?" + +"Yes." + +"Where are they?" + +"Oh, many thousand miles from here! But we won't talk about it. They +are well and happy. And this one"--here he took down the photograph of +the man in full uniform--"is the Grand Duke Vladimir. Yes, a +soldierly-looking man--none of the others are like him. But come now, +tell me of yourself--you have some one at home, too?" + +I nodded my head and mentioned my mother and the others at home. + +"No sweetheart yet? No?--You needn't answer--we all have sweethearts at +your age--at mine it is all over. But why did you leave her? It is so +hard to do that. Ah, yes, I see--to make your bread. And how do you do +it?" + +"I write." + +He lowered his brows and looked at me under his lids. + +"What sort of writing? Books? What is called a novel?" + +"No--not yet. I work on special articles for the newspapers, and now +and then I get a short story or an essay into one of the magazines." + +He was replacing the pictures as I talked, his back to me. He turned +suddenly and again sought my eye. + +"Don't waste your time on essays or statistics. You will not succeed as +a machine. You have imagination, which is a real gift. You also dream, +which is another way of saying that you can invent. If you can add +construction to your invention, you will come quite close to what they +call genius. I saw all this in your face to-night; that is why I wanted +to talk to you. So many young men go astray for want of a word dropped +into their minds at the right time. As for me, all I know is +statistics, and so I will never be a genius." And a light laugh broke +from his lips. "Worse luck, too. I must exchange them for money. Look +at this--I have been all day correcting the proofs." + +With this he walked to his table--he had not yet taken a seat, although +a chair was next to my own--and laid in my lap a roll of galley-proofs. + +"It is the new encyclopaedia. I do the biographies, you +see--principally of men and the different towns and countries. I have +got down now to the R's--Richelieu--Rochambeau--" his fingers were now +tracing the lines. "Here is Romulus, and here is Russia--I gave that +half a column, and--dry work, isn't it? But I like it, for I can write +here by my fire if I please, and all my other time is my own. You see +they are signed 'Norvic Bing.' I insisted on that. These publishers are +selfish sometimes, and want to efface a writer's personality, but I +would not permit it, and so finally they gave in. But no more of +that--one must eat, and to eat one must work, so why quarrel with the +spade or the ground? See that you raise good crops--that is the best of +all." + +Then he branched off into a description of a ball he had attended some +years before at the Tuileries--of the splendor of the interior; the +rich costumes of the women; the blaze of decorations worn by the men; +the graciousness of the Empress and the charm of her beauty--then of a +visit he had made to the Exile a few months after he had reached +Chiselhurst. Throwing up his hands he said: "A feeble old man with +hollow eyes and a cracked voice. Oh, such a pity! For he was +royal--although all Europe laughed." + +When the time came for me to go--it was near midnight, to my +astonishment--he followed me to the door, bidding me good-night with +both hands over mine, saying I should come again when he was at +leisure, as he had been that night--which I promised to do, adding my +thanks for what I declared was the most delightful evening I had ever +spent in my life. + +And it had been--and with it there had oozed out of my mind every drop +of my former suspicion. There was another side that he was hiding from +us, but it was the side of tenderness for his children--for those he +loved and from whom he was parted. I had boasted to myself of my +intuition and had looked, as I supposed, deep into his heart, and all I +found were three little faces. With this came a certain feeling of +shame that I had been stupid enough to allow my imagination to run away +with my judgment. Hereafter I would have more sense. + +All that winter Bing was the life of the house. The days on which his +seat was empty--off getting statistics for the encyclopaedia, I +explained to my fellow-boarders, I being looked upon now as having +special information owing to my supposed intimacy, although I had never +entered his room since that night--on these days, I say, the table +relapsed into its old-time dullness. + +One night I found his card on my pin-cushion. I always locked my door +myself when I left my room--had done so that night, I thought, but I +must have forgotten it. Under his name was written: "Say good-by to the +others." + +I concluded, of course, that it was but for a few days and that he +would return as usual, and hold out his two big generous hands to each +one down the table, leaving a warmth behind him which they had not +known since he last pressed their palms--and so on down until he +reached Miss Buffum and the school-teacher, who would both rise in +their seats to welcome him. + +With the passing of the first week the good lady became uneasy; the +board, as usual, had been paid in advance, but it was the man she +missed. No one else could add the drop of oil to the machinery of the +house, nor would it run smoothly without him. + +At the end of the second week she rapped at my door and with trembling +steps led me to Bing's room. She had opened it with her own pass-key--a +liberty she never allowed any one to take except herself, and never +then unless some emergency arose. It was empty of everything that +belonged to him--had been for days. The room had been set in order and +the bed had been made up by the maid the day he left and had not been +slept in since. Trunks, books, manuscripts, photographs--all were +gone--not a vestige of anything belonging to him was visible. + +I stooped down and examined the grate. On the top of the dead coals lay +a little heap of ashes--all that was left of a package of letters. + + + +II + +Five years passed. Times had changed with me. I had long since left my +humble quarters at Miss Buffum's and now had two rooms in an uptown +apartment-house. My field of work, too, had become enlarged. I had +ceased to write for the Sunday papers and was employed on special +articles for the magazines. This had widened my acquaintance with men +and with life. Heretofore I had known the dark alleys and slums, the +inside of station-houses, bringing me in contact with the police and +with some of the detectives, among them Alcorn of the Central Office, a +man who had sought me out of his own accord. Many of these trusted me +and from them I gathered much of my material. Now I explored other +fields. With the backing of the editor I often claimed seats at the +opening of important conventions--not so much political as social and +scientific; so, too, at many of the public dinners given to our own and +distinguished foreign guests, would a seat be reserved for me, my +object being the study of men when they were off their guard--reading +their minds, finding out the man behind the mask, a habit I had never +yet thrown off. Most men have some mental fad--this was mine. Sometimes +my articles found an echo in a note written to me by the guests +themselves; this would fill me with joy. Often I was criticised for the +absurdity of my views. + +On this occasion a great banquet was to be given to Prince Polinski, a +nephew of the Czar and possible heir to the throne. The press had been +filled with the detail of his daily life--of the dinners, teas and +functions given by society in his honor; of his reception by the mayor, +of his audience at the White House; of the men who guarded his person; +of his "opinions," "impressions" and "views" on this, that and the +other thing, but so far no one had dissected the man himself. + +What our editor wanted was a minute analysis of the mind of a young +Russian studied at close range. The occasion of the banquet was +selected because I could then examine him at my leisure. The results +were to be used by the editor in an article of his own, my memoranda +being only so much padding. + +When I entered and took up a position near the door where I could look +him over, Delmonico's largest reception-room was crowded with guests: +bankers, railroad presidents, politicians, officers of the army and +navy, judges, doctors, and the usual collection of white shirt-fronts +that fill the seats at a public dinner of this kind. The Prince was in +the uniform of an officer of the Imperial Navy. He was heavily built +and tall, with a swarthy face enlivened by a pointed mustache. The +Russian Ambassador at his side was in full dress and wore a number of +decorations: these two needed no pointing out. Some of the others were +less distinguishable-among them a heavily-built man in evening-dress, +with a full beard and mustache which covered his face almost to his +eyes--soft and bushy as the hair on a Spitz dog and as black. With a +leather apron and a broad-axe he would have passed at a masquerade for +an executioner of the olden time. Despite this big beard, there was a +certain bearing about the man--a certain elegance both of manner and +gesture--talking with his hands, accentuating his sentences with +outstretched fingers, lifting his shoulders in a shrug (I saw all this +from across the room where I stood)--that showed clearly not only his +high position, but his breeding. What position he held under the Prince +I was, of course, unaware, but it must have been very close, for the +big Russian kept him constantly at the royal side. I noted, too, that +the Prince was careful to introduce him to many who were brought up to +shake his hand. + +When the procession was formed to march into the dining-hall, Polinski +came first on the arm of the mayor; then followed a group of +dignitaries, including the Ambassadors, the black-bearded man walking +by the side of the Prince, who would now and then turn and address him. + +My seat was against the wall opposite the dais, and knowing that I +should have scant opportunity to study the Prince's face from where I +sat, I edged my way along the side of the corridor, the crowd making +progress difficult for him, but easy for me, as I crept close to the +wall. When I reached the door opening into the banquet hall I took up a +position just inside the jamb, so that I could get a full view of the +Prince as he passed. + +At this instant I became aware that a pair of broad shoulders were +touching mine. Turning quickly, I found myself looking into the face of +the bearded Russian. His eyes were fastened on mine, an inquiring, +rather surprised look on his face, as if he was wondering at the bad +manners of a man who would thrust himself ahead of a royal personage. +For an instant the features were calm and impassive, then as he +continued to look at me there flashed out of his eyes a search-light +glance that shot straight through me. + +It was Bing! + +Bearded like a Cossack; more heavily built, solemn, dignified, elegant +in carriage and demeanor, with not a trace of jollity about him--but +Bing all the same! I could have sworn to it! + +The flash burned for an instant; the eyes behind the canvas dodged +back, then with a graceful wave of the hand he turned to the Ambassador +who was now abreast of him and said in a voice so low that I caught the +words but not the full tone: + +"Isn't it a charming sight, your Excellency? There is nothing like the +hospitality of these wonderful Americans." And the two passed into the +brilliantly-lighted hall. + +I made my way to my seat and sat thinking it over. That he had +recognized me was without question; that he had ignored me was equally +true--why, I could not tell. + +For years I had made him one of my heroes. He had stood for +cheerfulness, for contentment with one's lot, for consideration for +another--and always a weaker brother. When his abrupt departure had +been criticised by my fellow-boarders, I had stemmed the tide against +him, dilating on his love for his children, on his loneliness away from +them; on his simplicity, his common-sense, his desire to help even a +young fellow like me who had no claim upon him. In return he had seen +fit to treat me with contempt--I who would have been so proud to tell +him how his advice had helped me and what progress I had made by +following it. + +The incident took such hold upon me that I found myself dissecting his +mentality instead of that of the Great Personage in the public eye. As +I analyzed my feelings I found that he had hurt my heart more than my +pride. I would have been so glad to shake his hand--so glad to rejoice +with him over his changed conditions--once the occupant of a front room +in a cheap boarding-house, supporting himself by filling space in the +columns of an encyclopaedia, and now the bosom friend of Princes and +Ambassadors! + +Then a doubt arose in my mind. WAS it Bing? Had I not made a mistake? +How could a smooth-shaven Dane with blond hair transform himself into a +swarthy Russian with the beard of a Cossack? There was, it is true, no +change in the eyes or in the round head--in the whiteness and width of +the forehead, or the breadth of the shoulders. All these I went over +one by one as I watched him every now and then lean across the table +and speak to some of the distinguished guests that surrounded him. The +thing which puzzled me was his grave, sedate demeanor, dignified, +almost austere at times. A man, I thought, might grow a beard and dye +it, but how could he grow a different set of manners, how smother his +jollity, how wipe out his spontaneous buoyancy? + +No, it was not Bing! It was only my stupid self. I was always ready to +find the mysterious and unnatural. I turned to the guest next me. + +"Do you know who that man is on the dais," I asked; "the one all black +and white, with the big beard?" + +"Yes, one of the Prince's suite; some jaw-breaking name with an +'-usski' on the end of it. He brought him with him; looks like a bull +pup chewing a muff, doesn't he?" + +I smiled at the comparison, but I was still in doubt. + +When the banquet broke up I hurried out ahead of the others and posted +myself at the top of the staircase leading down to the side door of the +street. The Prince's carriage--an ordinary cab--was ordered to this +door to escape the crowd and to avoid any delay. This I learned from my +old friend Alcorn of the Central Office, who was in charge of the +detectives at the dinner, and who in answer to my request said: + +"Certainly I'll let you through. Come alone, and don't speak to me as +you go by. I'll say you're one of us. The crowd thinks he's going out +by the other door, and you can get pretty close to him." + +The Prince came first, wrapped in furs--the black-bearded Russian at +his side in overcoat, silk hat and white gloves. The Ambassador and the +others had bidden them good-night at the top of the staircase. + +Under Alcorn's direction I had placed myself just inside the street +door where I could slip out behind the Prince and his black-bearded +companion. As a last resort I determined to walk straight up to him and +say: "You haven't forgotten me, Mr. Bing, have you?" If I had changed +so as to need proof of my identity Alcorn would furnish it. Whatever +his answer, his voice would solve my mystery. + +He walked down the stairs with an easy, swinging movement, keeping a +little behind the Prince; waited until Alcorn had opened the street +door and with a nod of thanks followed Polinski out into the night. +Once outside I shrank back into the shadow of the doorway and held my +breath to catch his first spoken word--to the coachman--to the +Prince--to any one who came in his way. + +At this moment a man in a slouch hat and poorly dressed, a light cane +under his arm, evidently a tramp, hurried across the street to hold the +cab door. I edged nearer, straining my ears. + +The Prince bent his head and stooped to enter the cab. The tramp leaned +forward, shot up his right arm; there came a flash of steel, and the +next instant the tramp lay writhing on the sidewalk, one hand twisted +under his back, the other held in the viselike grip of the +black-bearded man. Alcorn rushed past me, threw himself on the +prostrate tramp, slipped a pair of handcuffs over his wrists, dragged +him to his feet, and with one hand on his throat backed him into the +shadow of the side door. + +The Prince smiled and stepped into his carriage. The black-bearded man +dusted his white gloves one on the other, gave an order in a low tone +to the coachman, took his place beside his companion and the two drove +off. + +I stood out in the rain and tried to pull myself together. The rapidity +of the attack; the poise and strength of the black-bearded Russian; the +quickness with which Alcorn had risen to the occasion; the absence of +all outcry or noise of any kind--no one but ourselves witnessing the +occurrence--had taken my breath away. That an attack had been made on +the life of the Prince, and that it had been frustrated by his friend, +was evident. It was also evident that accosting a Prince on the +sidewalk at night without previous acquaintance was a dangerous +experiment. When I recovered my wits both Alcorn and the would-be +assassin had disappeared. So had the cab. + +Only two morning journals had an account of the affair; one dismissed +it with a fling at the police for not protecting our guests from +annoyance, and the other stated that a drunken tramp had demanded the +price of a night's lodging from the Prince as he was leaving +Delmonico's, and that a member of the Prince's suite had held the +fellow until a policeman came along and took him to the station-house. +Not a word of the murderous lunge, the flash of steel, the viselike +grip of the black-bearded man or the click of the handcuffs. + +That night I found Alcorn. + +"Did that fellow try to stab the Prince?" I asked. + +"Yes." + +"With a knife?" + +"No, a sword cane." + +"The papers didn't say so." + +"No, I didn't intend they should. Wouldn't have been pleasant reading +for his folks in St. Petersburg. Besides, we haven't rounded up his +gang yet." + +"The Prince didn't seem to lose his nerve?" I asked. + +"No, he isn't built that way." + +"You know him, then?" + +"Yes--been with him every day since he arrived." + +"Who is the black-bearded man with him?" + +"He is his intimate friend, Count Lovusski. Been all over the world +together." + +"Is Lovusski his ONLY name?" This seemed to be my chance. + +Alcorn turned quickly and looked into my face. + +"On the dead quiet, is it?" + +"Yes, Alcorn, you can trust me." + +"No--he's got half a dozen of 'em. In Paris in '70 he was Baron +Germunde with estates in Hungary. Lived like a fighting-cock; knew +everybody at the Palace and everybody knew him--stayed there all +through the Franco-Prussian War. In London in '75 he was plain Mr. +Loring, trying to raise money for a mine somewhere in Portugal--knew +nobody but stockbrokers and bank presidents. In New York five years ago +he was Mr. Norvic Bing, and worked on some kind of a dictionary; lived +in a boarding-house on Union Square." + +I could not conceal my delight. + +"I knew I was right!" I cried, laying my hand on his arm. "I lived with +him there a whole winter." + +"Yes, he told me so. That's why I am telling you the rest of it." +Alcorn was smiling, a curious expression lighting his face. + +"And how came he to be such a friend of the Prince's?" I asked. + +"He isn't his friend--isn't anybody's friend. He's a special agent of +the Russian Secret Service." + + + + +CAPTAIN JOE AND THE SUSIE ANN + + +Wide of beam, stout of mast, short-bowspritted, her boom clewed up to +clear her deck load of rough stone; drawing ten feet aft and nine feet +for'ard; a twelve-horse hoisting engine and boiler in her forecastle; +at the tiller a wabbly-jointed, halibut-shaped, moon-faced (partially +eclipsed, owing to a fringe of dark whiskers), sleepy-eyed skipper +named Baxter,--such was the sloop Susie Ann, and her outfit and her +commander, as she lay alongside the dock in New London Harbor, ready to +discharge her cargo at the site of Shark Ledge Lighthouse, eight miles +seaward. + +On the dock itself, over a wharf post sprawled her owner, old Abram +Marrows, a thin, long, badly put together man, awkward as a stepladder +and as rickety, who, after trying everything from farming to selling a +patent churn, had at last become a shipowner, the Susie Ann, comprising +his entire fleet. Marrows had come to see her off; this being the +sloop's first trip for the season. + +Lying outside the Susie Ann--her lines fast to an off-shore spile, was +the construction tug of the lighthouse gang, the deck strewn with +diving gear, water casks and the like,--all needed in the furthering of +the work at the ledge. On the tug's forward deck, hat off and jacket +swinging loose, stood Captain Joe Bell in charge of the submarine work +at the site, glorious old Captain Joe, with the body of a capstan, legs +stiff as wharf posts, arms and hands tough as cant hooks and heart +twice as big as all of them put together. + +Each and every piece of stone,--some of them weighed seven +tons,--stowed aboard the Susie Ann, was, when she arrived alongside the +foundation of the lighthouse, to be lowered over her side and sent down +to Captain Joe to place in thirty feet of water. This fact made him +particular both as to the kind of vessel engaged and the ability of the +skipper. Bad seamanship might not only endanger the security of the +work but his own life as well,--a diver not being as quick as a crab or +blackfish in getting from under a seven-ton stone dropped from tripdogs +at the signal to "lower away." + +Captain Joe's inspection of the Susie Ann's skipper was anything but +satisfactory, judging from the way he opened his battery of protest. + +"Baxter ain't fittin', I tell ye, Abram Marrows," he exploded. "He +ain't fittin' and never will be. Baxter don't know most nothin'. Set +him to grubbin' clams, Abram, but don't let him fool 'round the Ledge. +He'll git the sloop ashore, I tell ye, or drop a stone and hurt +somebody. Go and git a MAN som'ers and put him in charge,--not a +half-baked--" here he lowered his muzzle and fired point-blank at the +object of his wrath,--"Yes, and I'll say it to your face, Captain +Baxter. You take my advice and lay off for this v'yage,--it ain't no +picnic out to the Ledge. You ain't seen it since we got the stone 'bove +high water. Reg'lar mill tail! You go ashore, I tell ye,--or ye'll lose +the sloop." + +Many of the men ranged along the top of the cabin of the tug, or +perched on its rail, wondered at the vehemence of the captain's attack, +"Moon-faced Baxter," as he was called, having a fair reputation as a +seaman. They knew, too, that Captain Joe was aware of the condition of +Marrows's affairs, for it had been common talk that the bank had loaned +Abram several hundred dollars with the sloop as security on the +captain's own personal inspection. Some of them had even been present +when Mrs. Marrows,--a faded old woman with bleached eyes and a +pursed-up mouth, her shawl hooding her head and pinned close under her +chin with her thumb and forefinger,--had begged Captain Joe to try the +Susie Ann for a few loads until Abram could "ketch up," and had heard +his promise to help her. + +But they made no protest. Such outbursts on the captain's part were but +the escaping steam from the overcharged boiler of his indignation. +Underneath lay the firebox of his heart, chock full of red-hot coals +glowing with sympathy for every soul who needed his help. If his safety +valve let go once in a while it was to escape from greater danger. + +His long range ammunition exhausted, Captain Joe turned on his heel and +walked aft to where his diving gear was piled, venting his indignation +at every step. This time the outburst was directed to me,--(it was my +weekly inspection at the Ledge). + +"Can't jam nothin' into his head, sir. Stubbornest mule 'round this +harbor. Warn't for that wife o' his Abe Marrows would a-been high and +dry long ago. Every time he gits something purty good he goes and fools +it away;--sold his farm and bought that sloop; then he clapped a +plaster on it in the bank to start a cook shop. But the wife's all +right;--only last week she come to me lookin' like she'd bu'st out +cryin',--sayin' the sloop was all they had, and I promised her then I'd +use the Susie, but she never said nothin' 'bout Baxter being in charge, +or I'd stopped him 'fore he loaded her. Well, there ain't no tellin' +what nat'ral born fools like Abe Marrows'll do, but it's something +ornery and criss-cross if Abe Marrows does it. That woman's worked her +fingers off for him, but he'll git her in the poor-house yit,--see if +he don't." + +Marrows had heard every word of Captain Joe's outburst, but he made no +answer except to lift his thin elbows and spread his fingers in a +deprecatory way, as if in protest. Baxter maintained a dogged +silence;--the least said in answer the better. Captain Joe Bell was not +a man either to contradict or oppose;--better let him blow it all out. +Both owner and skipper determined to take the risk. The Susie Ann had +been laid up all winter awaiting the opening of the spring work, and +the successful carrying out of the present venture was Marrows's only +escape from financial ruin, and Baxter's only chance of getting his +back wages. There was an unpaid bill, too, for caulking, then a year +old, lying in Abram's bureau drawer, together with an account at Mike +Lavin's machine shop for a new set of grate bars, now almost worn out. +Worse than all the bank's lien on the sloop was due in a few weeks. +What money the sloop earned, therefore, must be earned quickly. + +And then again, Abram ruminated, Shark Ledge wasn't the worst place on +the coast,--despite Captain Joe's warning,--especially on this +particular morning, when a light wind was blowing off shore. Plenty of +other sloops had delivered stone over their rails to the divers below. +Marrows remembered that he had been out to the Ledge himself when the +Screamer came up into the wind and crawled slowly up until her forefoot +was within a biscuit toss of the stone pile. + +What Marrows forgot was that Captain Bob Brandt of Cape Ann had then +held the spokes of the Screamer's wheel,--a man who knew every twist +and turn of the treacherous tide. + +So Baxter shook out the sloop's jib and mainsail and started on his +journey eight miles seaward, with orders to make fast on arrival to the +spar buoy which lay within a few hundred yards of the Ledge, and there +wait until the tide turned, when she could drop into position to +unload. The tug with all of us on board would follow when we had taken +on fresh water and coal. + +On the run out Captain Joe watched the sloop until she had made her +first tack, then he turned to his work and again busied himself in +overhauling his diving dress; tightening the set-screws in his copper +collar, re-cording his breastplate and putting new leather thongs in +his leaden shoes. There was some stone on the sloop's deck which was +needed to complete a level down among the black fish and torn +cod,--twenty-two feet down,--where the sea kelp streamed up in long +blades above the top of his helmet and the rock crabs scurried out of +his way. If Baxter didn't make a "tarnel fool of himself and git into +one o' them swirl-holes," he intended to get these stones into place +before night. + +He knew these "holes," as he did every other swirl around the ledge and +what they could do and what they couldn't. They were his swirls, +really,--for he had placed every individual fragment of the +obstructions that caused them with his own hands, in thirty feet of +water. + +Some three years before the site had been marked by a spindle bearing +an iron cage and fastened to a huge boulder known as Shark Ledge Rock, +and covered at low water. The unloading of various sloops and schooners +under his orders had enlarged this submerged rock to a miniature +island, its ragged crest thrust above the sea. This obstruction to the +will of the wind and tide, and the ever-present six-mile current, +caused by the narrowing of Long Island Sound in its onrush to the sea, +acted as a fallen log that blocks a mountain stream, or a boulder that +plugs a torrent. That which for centuries had been a steady "set" every +six hours east and west, had now become a "back-and-in suck" fringed by +a series of swirling undercurrents dealing death and destruction to the +ignorant and unwary. + +Not been long since a schooner loaded with concrete had been saved from +destruction by the merest chance, and later on a big scow caught in the +swirl had parted her buoy lines and would have landed high and dry on +the stone pile had not Captain Joe run a hawser to her, twisted its +bight around the drum of his engine and warped her off just in time to +save her bones from sea worms. + +As the tug approached, the Ledge, looming up on the dim horizon line, +looked like a huge whale spouting derricks, a barnacle of a shanty +clinging to its back. Soon there rose into relief the little knot of +men gathered about one of the whale's fins--our landing stage,--and +then, as we came alongside, the welcome curl of the smoke, telling of +fried pork and saleratus biscuit. + +Captain Joe's orders now came thick and fast. + +"Hurry dinner, Nichols,"--this to the shanty cook, who was leaning out +of the galley window,--"And here,--three or four o' ye, git this divin' +stuff ashore, and then all hands to dinner. The wind's ag'in +Baxter,--he won't git here for an hour. Startin' on one o' them long +legs o' his'n now,"--and the captain's eye rested on the sloop beating +up Fisher's Island way. + +"And, Billy,--'fore ye go ashore, jump into the yawl and take a look at +that snatch block on the spar buoy,--that clam digger may want it 'fore +night." + +This spar buoy lay a few hundred yards off the Whale's Snout. Loaded +vessels were moored to this quill bob, held in place by a five-ton +sinker, until they were ready to drop into the eddy and there discharge +their stone. + +Dinner over the men fell to work, each to his job. The derrick gang was +set to shifting a boom on to the larger derrick, the concrete mixers +picked up their shovels, and I went to work on the pay-roll of the +week. This I always figured up in the little dry-goods box of a room +opening out of the galley in the end of our board shanty, its window +looking toward Montauk. + +As I leaned my arms on the sill for a glimpse of the wide expanse of +blue and silver, the cotton rag that served as a curtain flapped in my +face. I pushed it aside and craned my neck north and south. The curtain +had acted as a weather vane,--the wind had hauled to the east. + +The sky, too, had dulled. Little lumpy clouds showed near the horizon +line, and, sailing above these, hung a dirt spot of vapor, while aloft +glowed some prismatic sundogs, shimmering like opals. Etched against +the distance, with a tether line fastened to the spar buoy, lay the +Susie Ann. She had that moment arrived and had made fast. Her sails +were furled, her boom swinging loose and ready, the smoke from her +hoister curling from the end of her smoke pipe thrust up out of the +forward hatch. + +Then I looked closer in. + +Below me, on the concrete platform, rested our big air pump, and beside +it stood Captain Joe. He had slipped into his diving dress and was at +the moment adjusting the breastplates of lead, weighing twenty-five +pounds each, to his chest and back. His leaden shoes were already on +his feet. With the exception of his copper helmet, the signal line +around his wrist, and the life line about his waist, he was ready to go +under water. + +Pretty soon he would don his helmet, and, with a last word to Jimmy, +his tender, would tuck his chin whisker inside the round opening, wait +until the face plate was screwed on, and then, with a cheerful nod +behind the glass, denoting that his air was coming all right, would +step down his rude ladder into the sea,--down,--down,--down to his +place among the crabs and the seaweed. + +Suddenly my ears became conscious of a conversation carried on in a low +tone around the corner of the shanty. + +"Old Moon-face'll have to git up and git in a minute," said a derrick +man to a shoveller,--born sailors, these,--"there'll be a red-hot time +'round here 'fore night." + +"Well, there ain't no wind." + +"Ain't no wind,--ain't there? See that bobble waltzin' in?" + +I looked seaward, and my eyes rested on a ragged line of silver edging +the horizon toward Montauk. + +"Does look soapy, don't it?" answered the shoveller. "Wonder if Cap'n +Joe sees it." + +Cap'n Joe had seen it--fifteen minutes ahead of anybody else,--had been +watching it to the exclusion of any other object. He knew the +sea,--knew every move of the merciless, cunning beast; had watched it +many a time, lying in wait for its chance to tear and strangle. More +than once had he held on to the rigging when, with a lash of its tail, +it had swept a deck clean, or had stuck to the pumps for days while it +sucked through opening seams the life-blood of his helpless craft. The +game here would be to lift its victim on the back of a smooth +under-roller and with mighty effort hurl it like a battering ram +against the shore rocks, shattering its timbers into drift wood. + +"Billy," said Captain Joe to the shoveller, "go down to the edge of the +stone pile and holler to the sloop to cast off and make for home. +Hurry, now! And, Jimmy,"--this to his pump tender,--"unhook this +breastplate,--there won't be no divin', today. I've been mistrustin' +the wind would haul ever since I got up this mornin'." + +The shoveller sprang from the platform and began clambering over the +slippery, slimy rocks like a crab, his red shirt marked with the white +"X" of his suspenders in relief against the blue water. When he reached +the outermost edge of the stone pile, where the ten-ton blocks lay, he +made a megaphone of his fingers and repeated the captain's orders to +the Susie Ann. + +Baxter listened with his hands cupped to his ears. + +"Who says so?" came back the reply. + +"Cap'n Joe." + +"What fur?" + +"Goin' to blow,--don't ye see it?" + +Baxter stepped gingerly along the sloop's rail. Obeying the order meant +twenty-four hour's delay in making sure of his wages,--perhaps a week, +spring weather being uncertain. He didn't "see no blow." Besides, if +there was one coming, it wasn't his sloop or his stone. When he reached +the foot of the bowsprit Moon-face sent this answer over the water: + +"Let her blow and be d--! This sloop's chartered to deliver this stone. +We've got steam up and the stuff's goin' over outside. Get your divers +ready. I ain't shovin' no baby carriage and don't you forgit it. I'm +comin' on! Cast off that buoy line, you,"--this to one of his men. + +Captain Joe continued stripping off his leaden breastplate. He had +heard his order repeated and knew that it had been given +correctly,--Baxter's subsequent proceedings did not interest him. If he +had anything to say in answer it was of no moment to him. His word was +law on the Ledge; first, because the men daily trusted their lives to +his guidance, and, second, because they all loved him with a love hard +for a landsman to understand, especially today, when the boss and the +gang never, by any possibility, pull together. + +"Baxter says he's comin' on, sir," said Billy, when he reached the +captain's side, the grin on his sunburnt face widening until its two +ends hooked over his ears. Billy had heard nothing so funny for weeks. + +"Comin' on?" + +"That's what he hollered. Wants you to git ready to take his stuff, +sir." + +I was out of the shanty now. I came in two jumps. With that squall +rushing from the eastward and the tide making flood, any man who would +leave the protection of the spar buoy for the purpose of unloading was +fit for a lunatic asylum. + +Captain Joe had straightened up and was screening his eyes with his +hand when I reached his side, his gaze rivetted on the loosened sloop, +which had now hauled in her tether line and was drifting clear of the +buoy. The captain was still incredulous. + +"No, he ain't comin'," he said to me. "He's all right,--he'll port his +helm in a minute,--but he'd better send up his jib"--and he swept his +eye around,--"and that quick, too." + +At this instant the sloop wavered and lurched heavily. The outer edge +of the insuck had caught her bow. + +Men's minds work quickly in times of great danger,--minds like Captain +Joe's. In a flash he had taken in the fast-approaching roller, +froth-capped by the sudden squall; the surging vessel and the scared +face of Baxter, who, having realized his mistake was now clutching +wildly at the tiller and shouting orders to his men, none of which +could be carried out. Captain Joe knew what would happen,--what had +happened before, and what would happen again with fools like +Baxter,--now,--in a minute,--before he could reach the edge of the +stone pile, hampered as he was in a rubber suit that bound his arms and +tied his great legs together. And he understood too the sea's game, and +that the only way to outwit it would be to use the beast's own tactics. +When it gathered itself for the thrust and started in to hurl the +doomed vessel the full length of its mighty arms, the sloop's only +safety lay in widening the space. A cushion of backwater would then +receive the sloop's forefoot in place of the snarling teeth of low +crunching rocks. + +He had kicked off both shoes by this time and was shouting out +directions to Baxter, who was slowly and surely being sucked into the +swirl:-- + +"Up with your jib! No,--NO! Let that mainsail alone! UP! Do ye want to +git her on the stone pile, you? Port your helm! PORT! O GOD!--Look at +him!!" + +Captain Joe had slid from the platform now and was flopping his great +body over the slimy, slippery rocks like a seal, falling into water +holes every other step, crawling out on his belly, rolling from one +slanting stone to another, shouting to his men, every time he had the +breath:-- + +"Man that yawl and run a line as quick as God'll let ye--out to the +buoy! Do ye hear? Pull that fall off the drum of the h'ister and git +the end of a line on it! She'll be on top of us in a minute and the +mast out of her! QUICK!" + +Jimmy sprang for a coil of rope; Billy and the others threw themselves +after him; while half a dozen men working around the small eddy in the +lee of the diminutive island caught up the oars and made a dash for the +yawl. + +All this time the sloop, under the uplift of the first big Montauk +roller,--the skirmish line of the attack,--surged, bow on, to +destruction. Baxter, although shaking with fear, had sense enough left +to keep her nose pointed to the stone pile. The mast might come out of +her, but that was better than being gashed amidships and sunk in thirty +feet of water. + +Captain Joe, his rubber suit wet and glistening as a shiny porpoise, +his hair matted to his head, had now reached the outermost rock +opposite the doomed craft, and stood near enough to catch every +expression that crossed Baxter's face, who, white as chalk, was holding +the tiller with all his strength, cap off, his blousy hair flying in +the increasing gale, his mouth tight shut. Go ashore she must. It would +be every man for himself then. No help would come,--no help COULD come. +Captain Joe and his men would run for shelter as soon as the blow fell, +and leave them to their fate. Men like Baxter are built to think this +way. + +All these minutes--seconds, really,--Captain Joe stood bending forward, +watching where the sloop would strike, his hands outstretched in the +attitude of a ball-player awaiting a ball. If her nose should hit the +sharp, square edges of one of the ten-ton blocks, God help her! She +would split wide open like a melon. If by any chance her forefoot +should be thrust into one of the many gaps between the enrockment +blocks,--spaces from two to three feet wide,--and her bow timbers thus +take the shock, there was a living chance to save her. + +A cry from Baxter, who had dropped the tiller and was scrambling over +the stone-covered deck to the bowsprit, reached the captain's ears, but +he never altered his position. What he was to do must be done surely. +Baxter didn't count,--wasn't in the back of his head. There were plenty +of willing hands to pick up Baxter and his men. + +Then a thing happened which, if I had not seen it, I would never have +believed possible. The water cushion of the outsuck helped,--so did the +huge roller which, in its blind rage, had underestimated the distance +between its lift and the wide-open jaws of the rock,--as a maddened +bull often underestimates the length of its thrust, its horns falling +short of the matador. + +Whatever the cause, Captain Joe watched his chance, sprang to the +outermost rock, and, bracing his great snubbing posts of legs against +its edge, reversed his body, caught the wavering sloop on his broad +shoulders, close under her bowsprit chains, and pushed back with all +his might. + +Then began a struggle between the strength of the man and the lunge of +the sea. With every succeeding onslaught, and before the savage roller +could fully lift the staggering craft to hurl her to destruction, +Captain Joe, with the help of the outsuck, would shove her back from +the waiting rocks. This was repeated again and again,--the men in the +rescuing yawl meanwhile bending every muscle to carry out the captain's +commands. + +Sometimes his head was free enough to shout his orders, and sometimes +both man and bow were smothered in suds. + +"Keep that fall clear!" would come his order "Stand ready to catch the +yawl! Shut that--" here a souse would stop his breath,--"shut that +furnace door! Do ye want the steam out of the b'iler?"--etc., etc. + +That the slightest misstep on the slimy rocks on which his feet were +braced meant sending him under the sloop's bow where he would be caught +between her forefoot and the rocks and ground into pulp concerned him +as little as did the fact that Baxter and his men had crawled along the +bowsprit over his head and had dropped to the island without wetting +their shoes. That his diving suit was full of water and he soaking wet +to the skin, made not the slightest difference to him--no more than it +would to a Newfoundland dog saving a child. His thoughts were on other +things,--on the rescuing yawl speeding toward the spar buoy, on the +stout hands and knowing ones who were pulling for all they were worth +to that anchor of safety;--on two of his own men who, seeing Baxter's +cowardly desertion, had sprung like cats at the bowsprit of the sloop +in one of her dives, and were then on the stern ready to pay out a line +to the yawl when she reached the goal. No,--he'd hold on "till hell +froze over." + +A hawser now ripped itself clear from out the crest of a roller. This +meant that the two cats, despite the increasing gale and thrash of the +onrushing sea had succeeded in paying out a stern line to the men in +the yawl, who had slipped it through the snatch block fastened in the +buoy. It meant, too, that this line had been connected with the line +they had brought with them from the island, its far end being around +the drum of our hoister. + +A shrill cry now came from one of the crew in the yawl alongside the +spar buoy, followed instantly by the clear, ringing order, "GO AHEAD!" + +Now a burst of feathery steam plumed skyward, and then the slow +"chuggity-chug" of our drum cogs rose in the air. The stern line +straightened until it was as rigid as a bar of iron, sagged for an +instant under the slump of the staggering sloop, straightened again, +and remained rigid. The sloop, held by the stern line, crept slowly +back to safety. + +Captain Joe looked over his shoulder, noted the widening distance, and +leaped back to the inshore rocks. + +Late that afternoon, when the tug, with Captain Joe and me on board, +reached the tug's moorings in New London harbor, the dock was crowded +with anxious faces,--Abram Marrows and his wife among them. It had been +an anxious day along the shore road. The squall, which had blown for +half an hour and had then slunk away toward Little Gull, grumbling as +it went, had sent everything that could seek shelter bowling into New +London Harbor under close reefs. It had also started Marrows and his +wife on a run to the dock, where they had stood for hours straining +their eyes seaward, each incoming vessel, as she swooped past the dock +into the inner basin, adding to their anxiety. + +"Wouldn't give a keg o' sp'ilt fish for her. Ain't a livin' chance o' +savin' her," had bellowed the captain of a fishing smack, as he swept +by, within biscuit-toss of the dock, his boom submerged, the water +curling over the rail. + +"She went slap ag'in them chunks o' cut stone!" shouted the mate of a +tug through the window of a pilot house. + +"Got her off with her bow split open, but they can't keep her free! +Sunk by now, I guess," had yelled one of the crew of a dory making for +the shipyard. + +As each bulletin was shouted back over the water in answer to the +anxious inquiries of Marrows, the wife would clasp her fingers the +tighter. She made no moan or outburst. Abram would blame her and say it +was her fault,--everything was her fault that went wrong. + +When the tug had made fast to a wharf spile Captain Joe cleared the +stringpiece, and walked straight to Marrows. He was still soaking wet +underneath his clothes, only his outer garments being dry,--a condition +which never affected him in the least, "salt water bein' healthy," he +would say. + +"What did I tell ye, Abram Marrows?" he exploded, in a voice that could +be heard to the turnpike. "Didn't I say Baxter warn't fittin', and that +he ought ter be grubbin' clams? Go and dig a hole some'er's and cover +him up head and ears,--and dig it quick, too, and I'll lend ye a +shovel." + +"Well, but, Captain Joe,"--protested Marrows. + +"Don't you 'well' me. Well, nothin'. You're bad as him. Go and dig a +hole and BOTH on ye git in it!"--and he pushed through the crowd on his +way to his house, I close at his heels. + +The wife, who but that moment had heard the glad news of the rescue +from the lips of a deck hand, now hurried after the captain and laid +her hand on his arm. Her eyes were red from weeping; strands of gray +hair strayed over her forehead and cheeks; her lips were tightly drawn; +the anxiety of the last few hours had left its mark. + +"Don't go, Captain Joe, till I kin speak to ye," she pleaded, in a +trembling voice,--speaking through fingers pressed close to her lips. + +"No,--I don't want to hear nothin'. She's all right, I tell +ye,--tighter 'n a drum and not a drop of water in her. Got some of my +men aboard and we'll unload her to-morrow. You go home, old woman; you +needn't worry." + +"Yes, but you must listen,--PLEASE listen." + +She had followed him up the dock and the two stood apart from the crowd. + +"Well, what is it?" + +"I want to thank ye,--and I want--" + +"No, you don't want to thank nothin'. She's all right, I tell ye." + +She had tight hold of his arm now and was looking up into his face, all +her gratitude in her eyes. + +"But I do,--I must,--please listen. You've helped us so. It's all we +have. If we'd lost the sloop I'd 'a' give up." + +The captain's rough, hard hand went out and caught the woman's thin +fingers. A peculiar cadence came into his voice. + +"All ye have? Do you think I don't know it? That's why I was under her +bowsprit." + + + + +"AGAINST ORDERS" + + +"Here comes Captain Bogart--we'll ask him," said the talkative man. + +His listeners were grouped about one of the small tables in the +smoking-room of the Moldavia, five days out. The question was when the +master of a vessel should leave his ship. In the incident discussed +every man had gone ashore--even the life-saving crew had given her up: +the master had stuck to his post. + +The captain listened gravely. + +"Yes--if there's one chance in a thousand of saving her. Regulations +are pretty plain; can't forget 'em unless you want to," and he walked +on. + +That night at dinner I received a message to come to the captain's +cabin. He had some coffee that an old Brazilian had sent him. His +steward hailed from Rio, and knew how to grind and boil it. + +Over the making the talk veered to the inquiry in the smoking-room. + +"When ought a commander to abandon his ship, Captain?" I asked. + +"When his passengers need him. Passengers first, ship next, are the +orders. They're clear and exact--can't mistake 'em." + +"You speak as if you had had some experience." A leaf from out the +note-book of a live man doing live things is as refreshing as a bucket +of cool water from a deep well. + +"Experience! Been forty years at sea." + +"Some of them pretty exciting, I suppose." + +"Yes. Half a dozen of 'em." + +He emptied his cup, rose from his seat, and pushing back his chair, +began pacing the floor, stepping into the connecting chart-room, +bending for an instant over the map, and stepping back again, peering +through the small window a-grime with the spray of a north-easter. + +My question, I could see, had either revived some unpleasant memory or +the anxiety due to the sudden shift of wind--it had been blowing +south-west all day--had made him restless. + +As my eyes followed his movements I began to realize the enormous size +of the man. Walking the deck, head up, body erect, his broad shoulders +pulled back, his round, solid girth tightly confined in his simple +uniform, he looked the brawny, dominant, forceful commander that he +was--big among the biggest passengers. Here, pacing the small cabin, +his head almost touching the ceiling, his great frame filled the small +narrow room as an elephant would fill a boudoir. Everything seemed too +small for him--the table, even the chair which he had now regained, the +tiny egg-shell cup which he was still grasping. + +Looking closer--his head in full profile against the glow of the +electric light--I caught the straight line of the ruddy, seamed neck--a +bull's neck in strength, a Greek athlete's in refinement of +line--sweeping up into the close-cropped, iron-gray hair. Then came the +round of the head; the massive forehead, strong, straight nose; thin, +compressed lips, moulded thin and kept compressed by a life of +determined effort; square-cut chin and the iron jaw that held the lips +and chin in place. + +When he rose to his feet again I had another surprise. To my +astonishment he was not a Colossus at all--not in pounds and inches. On +the contrary, he was but little above the average size. What had +impressed me had not been his bulk, but his reserve force. Tigers +stretched out in cages produce this effect; so do powerful machines +that dig, crunch, or pound--dormant until their life-steam sets them +going. + +The gale increased in violence. We got now the lift of the steamer's +bow, staggering under tons of water, and the whir of the screw in +mid-air. The captain glanced at the barometer, drew his body to its +full height, reached for his storm-coat, slipped it on, and was about +to swing back the door opening on the deck, when the chirp of a canary +rang through the room. At the sound he turned quickly and walked back +to where the cage hung. + +"Ho, little man!" he cried in the same tone of voice in which he would +have addressed a child; "woke you up, did we? Sorry, old fellow; tuck +your head down again and take another nap." + +The bird stretched out its bill, fluttered its wings, pecked at the +captain's outstretched finger, and burst into song. + +"Yours, captain?" I had not noticed the bird before. + +"Yes; had him for years." + +Instantly the absurdity of the companionship broke upon me. What +possible comfort, I thought, could a man like the captain take in so +tiny a creature? It was the lion and the mouse over again--the eagle +and the tom-tit--the bear and the rabbit. He must have noticed my +surprise and amusement, for he added with a smile: + +"Must have something. Gets pretty lonesome sometimes when you have no +wife nor children, and there are none anywheres for me." He had +withdrawn his fingers now, and was buttoning his coat close about his +broad chest, his eyes still on the bird that was splitting its little +throat in a burst of song. + +"But he's so small," I laughed. "I should think you'd have a dog--seems +nearer your size." + +I once saw a man struck by a spent bullet. I remember the sudden +pallor, the half gasp, and the expression of pain that followed. Then +the man uttered a cry. The same expression crossed the captain's face, +but there was no gasp and no cry; only a straightening of the lips and +a tightening-up of the iron jaw. Then, without a word of any kind in +answer, he caught up his cap, swung back the door, and with the wind +full on his chest, breasted his way to the bridge. + +When the door swung open a moment later it closed on the first +officer--a square, thick-set, round-headed man, with mild blue eyes set +in a face framed by a half-circle of reddish-brown whiskers, the face +tanned by twenty-five years of sea service, fifteen of them with +Captain Bogart. + +"Getting soapy," he said; "wind haulin' to the east'ard. Goin' to have +a nasty night." As he spoke he stripped off his tarpaulins, hung them +to a hook in the chart-room, and wiping the salt grime from his face +with his coat cuff, took the captain's empty seat at the table. + +I knew by the captain's silent departure that I had made a break of +some kind, but I could not locate it. Perhaps the first officer might +explain. + +"Captain lost his wife, didn't he?" I asked, moving my chair to make +room. + +"No--never had one." He leaned forward and filled one of the empty +cups. "Why did you think so?" + +"Well, more from the tone of his voice than anything else. Some trouble +about it, wasn't there?" + +"There was. His sweetheart was burned to death ten years ago--lamp got +upset." These men are direct in their speech. It comes from their +life-long habit of giving short, crisp, meaning orders. He had reached +for the sugar now, and was dropping the lumps slowly into his cup. + +"That explains it, then," I answered. "We were talking about the bird +over there, and he said a man must have something to love, being +without wife or children, and then I told him a big man like himself, I +should think, would rather have a dog--" + +The first officer put down his cup, jerked his body around, and said, +his blue eyes looking into mine: + +"You didn't say that, did you?" + +I nodded my head. + +"Mighty sorry. Don't any of us talk to him of his dog. What did he say?" + +"Nothing. Turned a little pale, got up, and went out." + +"Too bad! You didn't know, of course--wish I'd posted you." + +"Then he DID have a dog?" + +"Yes, belonged to that poor girl." + +"What became of him?" + +The first officer leaned over the table and rested his elbows on the +cloth, his chin in the palms of his hands. For some time he did not +speak. Outside I could hear the thrash of the sea and the slosh of +spent waves coursing through the deck gutters. + +"You want to hear about that dog, do you?" he asked, straightening up. +"Well, I can tell you if any man can, but you're to keep mum about it +to the captain." + +Again I nodded. + +He fumbled in his outside pocket, drew forth a short pipe, rapped out +the dead ashes, refilled it slowly from a pouch on the table, lighted +it, and settled himself in his chair. + +"I'll begin at the beginning, for then you'll understand how I came to +be mixed up in it. I saw that dog when he first came aboard, and I want +to say right here that the sight of him raised a lump in my throat big +as your fist, for he was just the mate of the one I owned when I used +to look after my father's sheep on the hills where we lived. Then, +again, I took to him because he wasn't the kind of a pet I'd ever seen +at sea before--we'd had monkeys and parrots and a bobtail cat, but +never a dog--not a real, human dog. + +"He was one of those brown-and-white combed-out collies we have up in +my country, with a long, pointed nose that could smell a mile and eyes +like your mother's--they were so soft and tender. One of those dogs +that when he put his cold nose alongside your cheek and snuffed around +your whiskers you loved him--you couldn't help it--and you knew he +loved you. As for the captain--the dog was never three feet from his +heels. Night or day, it was just the same--up on the bridge, followin' +him with his eyes every time he turned, or stretched out beside his +berth when he was asleep. Hard to understand how such a man can love a +dog until you saw that one. Then, again, this dog had another hold upon +the captain, for the girl had loved him just the same way. + +"And he had the best nose in a fog--seemed as if he could sniff things +as they went by or came on dead ahead. After a while the captain would +send him out with the bow-watch in thick weather, and there he'd +crouch, his nose restin' on the rail, his eyes peerin' ahead. Once he +got on to a brigantine comin' bow on minutes before the lookout could +see her--smelt her, the men said, just as he used to smell the sheep +lost on the hillside at home. It was thick as mud--one of those pasty +fogs that choke you like hot steam. We had three men in the cro'nest +and two for'ard hangin' over her bow-rail. The dog began to grow +restless. Then his ears went up and his tail straightened out, and he +began to growl as if he had seen another dog. The captain was listenin' +from the bridge, and he suspected somethin' was wrong and rang 'Slow +down!' just in time to save us from smashing bow on into that +brigantine. Another time he rose on his hind legs and 'let out' a yelp +that peeled everybody's eyes. Then the slippery, barnacle-covered +bottom of a water-logged derelict went scootin' by a few yards off our +starboard quarter. After that the men got to dependin' on him--'Ought +to have a first mate's pay,' I used to tell the captain, at which he +would laugh and pat the dog on the head. + +"One morning about eight bells, some two hundred miles off Rio--we were +'board the Zampa, one of our South American line, with eighteen +first-class passengers, half of 'em women, and ten or twelve +emigrants--when word came to the bridge that a fire had started in the +cargo. We had a lot of light freight on board and some explosives which +were to be used in the mines in the mountains off the coast, so fire +was the last thing we wanted. Bayard--did I tell you the dog's name was +Bayard?--that's what the girl called him--was on the bridge with +Captain Bogart. I was asleep in my bunk. First thing I knew I felt the +dog's cold nose in my face, and the next thing I was on the dead run +for the after-hatch. I've had it big and ugly a good many times in my +life; was washed upon a pile of rocks once stickin' up about a cable's +length off our coast, and hung to the cracks until I dropped into a +lifeboat; and another time I was picked up for dead off Natal and +rolled on a barrel till I came to. But that racket aboard the Zampa was +the worst yet. + +"When I jumped in among the men the smoke was creepin' out between the +lids of the hatch. We ripped that off and began diggin' up the +cargo--crates of chairs, rolls of mattin', some spruce +scantling--runnin' the nozzle of the hose down as far as we could get +it. There were no water-tight compartments which we could have flooded +in those days as there are now, or we could have smothered it first +off. What we had to do was to fight it inch by inch. I knew where the +explosives were, and so did the captain and purser, but the crew +didn't--didn't even know they were aboard, and I was glad they didn't. +We had picked most of 'em up at Rio--or they'd made a rush maybe for +the boats, and then we'd had to shoot one or two of 'em to teach the +others manners. In addition to every foot of hose we had 'board I +started a line of buckets and then rushed a gang below to cut through +the bulkhead to see if we could get at the stuff better. + +"The men fell to with a will. Fire ain't so bad when you take hold of +it in time, and as long as there is plenty of steam pressure--and there +was--you can almost always get on top of it, unless something turns up +you don't count on. + +"That's what happened here. I was standin' on the coamings of the hatch +at the time, peerin' down into the smoke and steam, thinking the fire +was nearly out, directing the men what to h'ist out and what to leave, +when first thing I knew there came a dull, heavy thump, as if we'd +struck a rock amidships, and up puffed a cloud of smoke and sparks that +keeled me over on my back and nearly blinded me. + +"I knew then that the fire had just begun to take hold; that thump +might have been a cask of rum or it might have been a box of +nitro-glycerine. Whatever it was, there was no time to waste in +stoppin' the blaze before it reached the rest of the cargo. + +"Captain Bogart had felt the shock and now came runnin' down the deck +with the dog at his heels. He knew I'd take care of the fire and he +hadn't left the bridge, but the way she shook and heaved under the +explosion was another thing. + +"By this time the passengers were huddled together on the upper deck, +frightened to death, as they always are, the women the coolest in the +crowd. All except two little old women, sisters, who lived out of Rio +and who had been with us before. Fire was one of the things that scared +them to death, and they certainly were scared. They hung to the rail, +their arms around each other--the two together didn't weigh a hundred +and fifty pounds; always reminded me of two shiverin' little monkeys, +these two old women, although maybe it ain't nice for me to say it--and +looked down over the rail into the sea, and said they never could go +down the ladder, and did all the things badly scared women do, short of +pitching themselves overboard, which sometimes occurs. The captain +stopped and talked to 'em--told 'em there was no danger--his ears open +all the time for another let-go, and the dog nosed round and put out +his paw as if to make good what the captain had promised. + +"The water was goin' in now pretty lively--all the pumps at work--the +light stuff bein' heaved overboard as fast as it came out. By dark we'd +got the fire under so that we had steam where before we'd had smoke and +flame. The passengers had quieted down and some of 'em had gone back to +their staterooms to get their things together, and everything was going +quiet and peaceable--this was about nine o'clock--when there came +another half-smothered explosion and the stokers began crawlin' up like +rats. Then the chief engineer stumbled out--no hat nor coat, his head +all blood where a flying bolt had gashed him. Some of her bilge plates +was loose, he said, and the water half up to the fire-boxes. Next a +column of flame came pouring out of her companionway, which crisped up +four of our boats and drove everybody for'ard. We knew then it was all +up with us. + +"The captain now sent every man to the boats--those that would +float--and we began to get the passengers and crew together--about +sixty, all told. That's pretty nasty business at any time. They're like +a flock of sheep, huddlin' together, some wantin' to stay and some +crazy to go; or they are shiverin' with fright and ready to knife each +other--anything to get ahead or back or wherever they think it is +safest. This time most of 'em had got on to the explosives; they knew +something was up, either with the boilers or the cargo, and every one +of them expected to be blown up any minute. + +"I stood by the rail, of course, and had told off the men I could +trust, puttin' 'em in two lines to let 'em through one at a time, women +first, then the old men, and so on--same old story; you've seen it, no +doubt--and had got four boats overboard and filled--the sea was pretty +calm--and three of 'em away and out of range of fallin' pieces if she +did take a notion to let go suddenly, when the dog sprang out of the +door at the top of the stairs leading down to the main deck, barkin' +like mad, runnin' up to the captain, who stood just behind me, pullin' +at his trousers, and runnin' back again. Then a yell came from the boat +below that one of the old women was missing: it was her sister. One +half-crazy man said she'd jumped overboard--he was crowdin' up to the +rail and didn't want to stop for anything--and another said she had +gone off in the first boat, which I knew was a lie. + +"'Have you sent them both down?' asked Captain Bogart. + +"'No, sir; only one,' I said--and I hadn't. + +"Just then a steward stepped up with a bundle of clothing in his hand. + +"'I tried to get her out, but she'd locked herself in the stateroom, +sir. It was all afire when I come up.' + +"It took about two seconds for Captain Bogart to jump clear of the +crowd, run half the length of the deck and plunge through the door +leadin' to the main deck, the dog boundin' after him. + +"I've been through a good many anxious minutes in my life, but those +were the worst I'd had up to date. He and I had been pretty close ever +since I went to sea. He's ten years older than I am, but he gave me my +first chance. Yes; that kind of thing takes the heart out of you, and +they were both in it. Hadn't been for the dog we wouldn't have missed +her, maybe, although the captain was keeping tally of the passengers +and crew. + +"Three minutes, they said it was--more like three hours to me--I held +the crowd back, wondering how long I ought to wait if he didn't come +up, knowing my duty was to stay where I was, when the dog sprang out of +the door, half his hair singed off him, barkin' and jumpin' as if he +had been let out for a romp; and then came the captain staggerin' +along, his face scorched, his coat half burned off him, the woman in +his arms in a dead faint and pretty nigh smothered. The old fool had +locked herself in her stateroom--he had to break down the door to get +at her--cryin' she'd rather die there than be separated from her sister. + +"We made room for the two--the half-crazy man fallin' back--and the +captain lowered her himself into the boat alongside her sister, and +then he sent me down the ladder behind her to catch the others when +they came down and see that everything was ready to cast off. + +"I could see the captain now from my position in the boat, up against +the sky--he was the last man on the ship--holding the dog close to him. +Once I thought he was going to bring him down in his arms, he held him +so tight. + +"Next time I looked he was coming down the ladder slowly, one foot at a +time, the dog looking down at him, his big, human eyes peering into the +captain's face, his long, pointed nose thrust out, his ears bent +forward. If he could have spoken--and he looked as if he was +speaking--he would be telling him how glad he felt at savin' the old +woman, and how happy he was that they'd all three got clear. My own +collie used to talk to me like that--had a kind of low whine when he'd +get that way; tell me about his sheep stuck in the snow, and the way +the--" + +The first officer stopped, cleared his throat, shook the ashes from his +pipe and laid it on the table. After a while he went on. His words came +slower now, as if they hurt him. + +"When the captain got half-way down the ladder I saw him stand still +for a moment and look straight tip into the dog's eyes. Then I heard +him say: + +"'Down, Bayard! Stay where you are.' + +"The dog crouched and lay with his paws on the edge of the rail. That's +what he'd done all his life--just obeyed orders without question. Again +I saw the captain stop. This time he slipped his hand into his +side-pocket, half drew out his revolver, put it back again, and kept on +his way down the ladder to the boat. + +"Then the captain's order rang out: + +"'Get ready to shove off!' + +"Hardly had the words left his lips when there came another dull, +muffled roar, and a sheet of flame licked the whole length of the deck. +Then she fell over on her beam. + +"'My God!' I cried; 'left that dog to die!'" + +For a moment the first officer did not answer. Then he raised his eyes +to mine and said in a voice full of emotion: + +"Yes; there was nothin' else to do. It's against orders to take animals +into life-boats. They take room and must be fed, and we hadn't a foot +of space or an ounce of grub and water to spare, and we had two hundred +miles to go. I begged the captain. 'I'll give Bayard my place,' I said. +I knew he was right; but I couldn't help it. 'Let me go back and get +him.' I know now it would have been foolish; but I'd have done it all +the same. So would you, maybe, if you'd known that dog and seen his +trusting eyes lookin' out of his scorched face and remembered what he'd +just done. + +"The captain never looked at me when he answered. He couldn't; his eyes +were too full. + +"'Your place is where you are, sir,' he said, short and crisp. 'Shove +off, men.' + +"He will never get over it. That dog stood for the girl he'd lost, +somehow. That's the captain's bell. I'm wanted on the bridge. +Good-night." + +Again the cabin door swung free, letting in a blast of raw ice-house +air, the kind that chills you to the bone. The gale had increased. +Through the opening I could hear the combers sweeping the bow and the +down-swash of the overflow striking the deck below. + +With the outside roar came the captain, his tarpaulins glistening with +spray, his cap pulled tight down to his ears, his storm-beaten face +ruddy with the dash and cut of the wind. He looked like a sea Titan +that had stepped aboard from the crest of a wave. + +If he saw me--I was stretched out on the sofa by this time--he gave no +sign. Opening his tarpaulins and thrashing the water from his cap, he +walked straight to the cage, peered in, and said softly: + +"Ah, my little man! Asleep, are you? I just came down to take a look at +the chart and see how you were getting on. We're having some weather on +the bridge." + + + + +MUGGLES'S SUPREME MOMENT + + +I + +A most estimable young man was Muggles: a clean-shaven, spick-and-span, +well-mannered young man--particular as to the brushing of his hat, the +tying of his scarf and the cut of his clothes; more than particular as +to their puttings-on and puttings-off--sack-coat and derby for +mornings; top hat and frock for afternoons; bobtail and black tie for +stags, and full regalia of white choker, white waistcoat and +swallowtail for smart dinners and the opera. + +He knew, too, all the little niceties of social life--which arm to give +to his hostess in escorting her out to dinner; on which side of a +hansom to place a lady; the proper hours for calling; the correct thing +in canes, umbrellas, stick-pins and cigar-cases; the way to balance a +cup of afternoon tea on one knee while he toyed with a lettuce sandwich +teetering on the other--all the delicate observances so vital to the +initiated and so unimportant to the untutored and ignorant. Then +Muggles was a kind and considerate young man--extremely kind and +intrusively considerate; always interesting himself in everybody's +affairs and taking no end of trouble to straighten them out whether +importuned or not--and he seldom was. + +This idiosyncrasy had gained for him during his college days the title +of "Mixey." This in succeeding years had been merged into "Muddles" and +finally to "Muggles," as being more euphonious and less insulting. Of +late among his intimates he had been known as "The Goat," due to his +constant habit of butting in at any and all times, a sobriquet which +clings to him to this day. + +His real name--the one he inherited from his progenitors and now borne +by his family--was one that stood high in the fashionable world: a +family that answered to the more dignified and aristocratic patronymic +of Maxwell--a name dating back to the time of Cromwell, with direct +lineage from the Earl of Clanworthy--john, Duke of Essex, Lord +Beverston--that sort of lineage. No one of the later Maxwells, it is +true, had ever been able to fill the gap of a hundred years or more +between the Clanworthys and the Maxwells, but a little thing like that +never made any difference to Muggles or his immediate connections. Was +not the family note-paper emblazoned with the counterfeit presentment +of a Stork Rampant caught by the legs and flopping its wings over a +flattened fish-basket; and did not Muggles's cigarette-case, +cuff-buttons and seal ring bear a similar design? And the wooden mantel +in the great locked library, and which was opened and dusted twice a +year--the books, not the mantel--did it not support a life-sized +portrait of the family bird done in wood, with three diminutive +storklets clamoring to be fed, their open mouths out-thrust between +their mother's breast and the top edge of the fish-basket, enwreathed +by a more than graceful ribbon bearing the inscription, "We feed the +hungry"--or words to that effect? + +None of these evidences of wealth and ancestry, it must be said, ever +impressed the group of scoffers gathered about the wood fire of the +"Ivy" in his college days, or about the smart tables at the "Magnolia +Club" in his post-graduate life. To them he was still "Mixey," or +"Muddles," or "Muggles," or "The Goat," depending entirely upon the +peculiar circumstances connected with the mixing up or the butting in. + +To his credit be it said the descendant of earls and high-daddies never +lost his temper at these onslaughts. If Bender, or Podvine, or little +Billy Salters pitched into him for some act of stupidity--due entirely +to his misguided efforts to serve some mutual friend--Muggles would +argue, defend and protest, but the discussion would always end with a +laugh and his signing the waiter's check and ordering another one for +everybody. + +"Why the devil, Muggles, did you insist last night on that Boston +girl's riding home from the theatre in the omnibus, you goat?" +thundered Podvine one morning at the club, "instead of letting her--" + +"My dear fellow," protested Muggles, "it was much more comfortable in +the omnibus, and--" + +"--And broke up her walk home with Bobby, you idiot! He had to take the +owl train home, and she won't see him for a month. Didn't you know they +were engaged?" + +"No--" + +"Of course you didn't, Muggles, but you could have seen it in her face +if you'd looked. You always put your foot in it clean up to your pants' +pocket!" + +"You've been at it again, have you, Muggles?" burst out Bender that +same night "Listen to the Goat's last, boys. Jerry wanted to buy that +swamp meadow next his place on Long Island and had been dickering with +the old fellow who owns it all winter, telling him it would be a good +place to raise cranberries if it was dug out and drained, and they had +almost agreed on the price--about twice what it was worth--when down +goes Muggles to spend the night and Jerry blabs it all out, and just +why he wanted it, and the next morning Muggles, to clinch the deal and +help Jerry, slips over to the hayseed and tells him how the Sunnybrook +Club are going to buy Jerry's place, and how they wanted the swamp for +a hatchery--all true--and that the hayseed oughtn't to wait a moment, +but send word by HIM that the deal was closed, because the club-house +being near by would make all the rest of his land twice as valuable; +and the old Skeezicks winked his eye and shifted his tobacco and said +he'd think about it, and now you can't buy that sink-hole for twenty +times what it's worth, and the Sunnybrook is looking for another site +nearer Woodvale. Regular clown you are, Muggles. Exactly like that +fellow at the circus who holds up one end of the tent and then, before +the supes can reach it, drops it for the other end." + +When the results of this last well-intentioned effort with its +disastrous consequences became clear to the Goat, that spotless +gentleman leaned back in his chair, threw hick his shoulders, shot out +his cuffs, readjusted his scarfpin and replied in an offended tone: + +"All owing, my dear fellow, to the stupidity of the agricultural class. +I told the farmer he would regret it, and he will. As for myself, I was +awfully disappointed. I had planned to run all the way back to Jerry's +and tell him the good news before he went to sleep that night, and--" + +"Disappointed, were you? How do you think Jerry felt? Made a lot of +difference to him, I tell you, not selling his place to the club. Been +a whole year working it up. It's smothered now under a blanket--about +ninety per cent of its value--and the Sunnybrook scheme would have +pulled him out with a margin! Now it's deader than last year's shad. +What the club wanted was a hatchery built over a spring, and that's why +that swamp was necessary to the deal. Oh, you're the limit, Muggles!" + +It was while smarting under these criticisms that the steward one +morning in June brought him his letters. One was from Monteith--Class +of '9l--a senior when Muggles was a freshman--and was postmarked +"Wabacog, Canada," where Monteith owned a lumber mill--and where he ran +it himself and everything connected with it from stumpage to scantling. +"There is a broad stream that runs into the lake, ... and above the +mill there are bass weighing ten pounds, ... and back in the primeval +forest bears, ... and now and then a moose--" So ran the letter. +Muggles had spread it wide open by this time and was reading it +aloud--everybody knowing Monteith--and the group never having any +secrets of this kind from each other. + +"Come up, old chap," the letter continued, "and stay a week--two, if +you can work it--and bring Bender, and little Billy and Poddy, and +three or four more. The bungalow holds ten. Wire when--I'm now putting +things on ice." + +Muggles looked around the circle and sent interrogatory Marconigrams +with his eyebrows. In response Podvine said he'd go, and so did Billy +Salters. Bender thought he could come a day or two later--the earning +of their daily bread was not an absorbing task with these young +gentlemen--their fathers had done that years before. + +Muggles ran over in his mind the list of his engagements: he was due at +Gravesend on the tenth for a week, to play golf; at his aunt's +country-seat in Westchester on the eleventh for the same length of +time, and on the twelfth he was expected to meet a yacht at Cold Spring +Harbor for a cruise up the coast. He had accepted these invitations and +had fully intended to keep each and every one. Monteith's letter, +however, seemed to come at a time when he really needed a more virile +and bracing life than was offered by the others. Here was a chance to +redeem his reputation. Lumber camps meant big men doing big +things--things reeking with danger, such as falling trees, forest fires +and log jams. There might also be hair-breadth escapes in the hunting +of big game and the tramping of the vast wilderness. This dressing +three times a day and spending the intermediate hours hitting wooden +balls, or lounging in a straw chair under a deck awning, had become +tiresome. What he needed was to get down to Nature and hug the sod, and +if there wasn't any sod then he would grapple with whatever took its +place. + +Muggles dropped his legs to the floor, straightened his back, beckoned +to a servant, motioned for a telegraph blank--exertion is tabooed at +the Magnolia--untelescoped a gold pencil hooked to his watch-chain and +wrote as follows: + +"Thanks. Coming Tuesday." + + + +II + +Wabacog covers a shaved place in a primeval forest which slopes to a +lake of the same name. Covering this bare spot are huge piles of sawed +lumber--Monteith's axe-razors did the shaving--surrounding an enormous +mill surmounted by a smokestack of wrought iron topped with a bird-cage +spark arrester, the whole flanked by a runway emerging from the lake, +up which climb in mournful procession the stately bodies of fallen +monarchs awaiting the cutting irony of the saw. Farther along, on +another clearing, stands a square building labelled "Office," and still +farther on, guarded by sentinel trees and encircled by wide piazzas, +sprawls a low-roofed bungalow, its main entrance level with a boardwalk +ending in the lake. This was Monteith's home. Here during the winter's +logging he housed himself in complete seclusion, and here in summer he +kept open house for whoever would answer in person his welcoming +letters. + +Anything so rude and primeval, or so comforting and inviting, was +beyond the experience of Muggles and his friends. This became apparent +before they had shed their coats and unpacked their bags. There was a +darky who answered to the name of Jackson who could not only crisp +trout to a turn, but who could compound cocktails, rub down muscular +backs shivering from morning plunges in the lake, make beds, clean +guns, wait on the table, and in an emergency row a canoe. There were +easy chairs and low-pitched divans overspread with Turkey rugs and +heaped with piles of silk cushions; there were wooden lockers, all +open, and each one filled with drinkables and smokables--drinkables +with white labels, and smokables six inches long with cuffs halfway +down their length; there was an ice-chest sampling a larger house in +the rear; there was a big, wide, all-embracing fireplace that burst its +sides laughing over the good time it was having (the air was cool at +night), and outside, redolent with perfume and glistening in the +sunshine, there was a bed of mint protected by a curbing of plank which +rivalled in its sweet freshness those covering the last resting-places +of the most hospitable of Virginians. + +And there was Monteith! + +Some men are born rich; some inherit a pair of scissors fitted to +strong thumbs and forefingers, some have to lie awake nights wondering +what they will do next to help their surplus run to waste, and some +pass sleepless hours devising plans by which they can catch in their +empty pockets the clippings and drippings of all three. Muggles's host +was none of these. What he possessed he had worked for--early, late and +all the time. His father had stood by and seen the old homestead in his +native Southern State topple into ashes, Only the gaunt chimney left; +the son had worked his way through college, and then with diploma in +one hand and his courage in the other--all he owned--had shaken the +dust of civilization from his shoes and had struck out for the Northern +wilds: Wabacog was the result. + +All these years he had kept in touch with his college chums, and when +the day of his success arrived, and he was his own master, with the +inborn good-fellowship that marked his race, he had unbuttoned his +pocket, shaken out his heart and let loose a hospitality that not only +revived the memories of his childhood, but created a new kind of joy in +the hearts of his guests. Hence the bungalow--hence Jackson--hence the +lockers and the ice-chest, and hence the bed quilt of mint. + +"This is your room, Muggles--and, Bender, old man, yours is next +Podvine, you are across the hall," was his welcome. "Breakfast is any +time you want it; dinner at six. Now come here! See that line of +lockers and that ice-chest? Don't forget 'em, please! Step up, +Jackson--take a look at him, boys. That darky can mix anything known to +man. He never sleeps, and he's never tired. If you don't call on him +for every blessed thing you want day or night, there'll be trouble." + +They fished and canoed; they hunted bears--a fact known to the bear, +who kept out of their way--never was in it, Bender insisted; they went +overboard every morning, one after another, in the almost ice-cold +water of the lake, out again red as lobsters, back on a run, whooping +with the cold to the blazing fire of the bungalow which Jackson had +replenished with bundles of dried balsam that cracked and snapped with +a roar while it toasted the bare backs and scorched the bare legs of +each one in turn (the balsam was gathered the year before for this very +purpose). They roamed the woods, getting a crack once in a while at a +partridge or a squirrel; they strolled about the mill, listening to the +whir of the saws and watching the "cut" as it was rolled away and was +made to feed the huge piles of lumber and timber flanking the runway +and far enough away from the huge stack to be out of the way of +treacherous sparks; and at night they sat around Jackson's constantly +replenished fire and told stories of their college days or revived the +current gossip of the club and the Street. + +Muggles ruminated over each and every experience--all new to him--and +kept his eyes open for the psychological moment when he would burst +asunder the bonds of conventionality and rise to the full measure of +his abilities. The Clanworthys had swung battle-axes and ridden +milk-white chargers into the thickest of the fray. His turn would come; +he felt it in his knee: then these unbelievers would be silenced. + +His host interested him enormously, especially his masterful way of +handling his men. He himself had been elected foreman of Hose Carriage +No. 1 in the village near his father's country seat, and still held +that important office. His cape and fire-boots fitted him to a nicety, +and so did his helmet. No. 1 had been called out but once in its +history, and then to the relief of a barn which, having lost heart +before the rescuers reached it, had sunk to the ground in despair and +there covered itself with ashes. He had been criticised, he remembered, +much to his chagrin, for the way he had conducted the rescue party; but +it would never happen again. After this he would pattern his conduct +after Monteith, who seemed to accomplish by a nod and a wave of the +hand what he had split his throat in trying to enforce. He did not put +these thoughts into words; neither did he whisper them even in the ears +of Podvine or Monteith--the two men who understood him best and who +guyed him the least--especially Monteith, who never forgot that his +college chum was his guest. He confided them instead to Monteith's big, +red-faced foreman--half Canadian, part French, and the rest of him +Irish--who was another source of wonder. Muggles's inherent good humor +and willingness to oblige had made an impression on the lumber-boss and +he was always willing to answer any fool question the young New Yorker +asked--a privilege which he never extended to his comrades. + +"What do I do when somepin' catches fire?" the boss replied to one of +Muggles's inquiries--they were sitting in the office alone, Bender and +little Billy having gone fishing with Jackson. "I'd blow that big +whistle ye see hooked to the safety, first. Ye never heard it?--well, +don't! It'll scare the life out o' ye. If the mill catches before we +can get the pumps to work it's all up with us. If the piles of lumber +git afire we kin save some of 'em if the wind's right; that's why we +stack up the sawed stuff in separate piles." + +"What do you do first--squirt water on it?" + +"No, we ain't got no squirts that'll reach. Best way to handle the +piles o' lumber is to start a line of bucket-men from the lake and +cover the piles with anything you can catch up--blankets, old carpets, +quilts; keep 'em soaked and ye kin fight it for a while; that's when +one pile's afire, and ye're tryin' to save the pile next t'it. Light +stuff is all over in half an hour--no matter how big the pile is--keep +the rags soaked--that's my way." + +That night before the blazing coals Muggles broke out on some theories +of putting out a conflagration that made Bender sit up straight and +little Billy Salters cup his ears in attention. Monteith also craned +his neck to listen. + +"Who the devil taught you that, Mixey?" asked Bender. "You talk as if +you were Chief of the Big Six." + +"Why, any fireman knows that. I've been running with a machine for +years." The calm way with which Muggles said this, shaking the ashes +from his cigar as he spoke, showed a certain self-reliance. "Out in our +village I'm foreman of the Hose Company." + +The sudden roar that followed this announcement shook the big glasses +and bottles on the low table. + +"So you'd keep the blankets soaked, would you?" remarked Billy, winking +at the others. + +"I certainly would." This came with a certain triumphant tone in his +voice. + +"Learned that practising on his head," whispered Podvine. + +"Right you are, Poddy; but Muggles, suppose the mill caught first," +chipped in Monteith. The mill was the apple of his eye. Fire was what +he dreaded--he never could insure the mill fully against fire. "What +would you protect first--the mill or the piles of lumber?" + +"The lumber, of course--the mill can use its pumps if the engine-room +escapes." + +"Better save the mill," rejoined Monteith thoughtfully. "Trade is +pretty dull." Then he rose from his seat, reached for his hat and +strolled out on the portico to take a look around before he turned in. + +Muggles's masterful grasp of a science of which his companions knew as +little as they did of the Patagonian dialects came as a distinct +surprise. What else had the beggar been picking up in the way of +knowledge? Maybe Muggles wasn't such a goat, after all. That Monteith +had approved of his tactics only increased their respect for their +companion. Muggles caught the meaning of the look in their faces and +his waistcoat began to pinch him across his chest. This life was what +he needed, he said to himself. Here were big men--the lumber-boss was +one--and he was another--doing big things. Nothing like getting down to +primeval Nature for an inspiration! "Hugging the sod," as he named it, +had had its effect not only on himself, but on his fellows. They would +never have felt that way toward him at the Magnolia. The week at +Wabacog had widened their horizon--widened everybody's horizon--as for +himself he felt like a Western prairie with limitless possibilities +ending in mountains of accomplishment. + +That night, an hour after midnight, Muggles found himself sitting bolt +upright in bed. Outside, filling the air of the wilderness, bellowed +and roared the deep tones of the steam siren. Then came a babel of +voices gaining in distinctness and volume: + +"Fire, FIRE, FIRE!" + +Muggles sprang through the door and ran full tilt into Jackson and +Bender, who had vaulted from their beds but a second before. The next +instant every man in the bungalow, Monteith at their head, came +tumbling out, one after the other. + +"Fire! Fire! Fire!" rang the cry, repeated by a hundred mill hands +rushing toward the mill. A spark had worked its way through the +arrester, some one said, had fallen into the sawed stuff, been nursed +into a blaze by the night wind, and a roaring flame was in full charge +of one pile of lumber and likely to take possession of another. + +Muggles looked about him. + +HIS SUPREME MOMENT HAD COME! + +The blood of the Clanworthys rose in his veins. The Pass lay before +him--so did the Bridge. A full suit of dove-colored pajamas and a pair +of turned-up Turkish slippers was not exactly the kind of uniform that +either Leonidas or Horatius would have chosen to fight his way to +glory, but there was no time to change them. + +With a whoop to Bender, who had really begun to believe in him, and a +commanding order to Jackson, the three stripped the costly Turkish rugs +from the lounges, and blankets from the beds, and, following his lead, +dashed through the woods to the relief of the endangered pile of +lumber. On the way they passed a gang of Canucks, carrying buckets. It +was but the work of a moment to arrange these into a posse of relays +with Bender on the lake end of the line and Jackson next the pile, the +gang passing the buckets from hand to hand. + +This done Muggles snatched a ladder from an adjacent building, threw it +against the threatened lumber, skipped up its rungs like a squirrel and +stood in silhouette against the flaring blaze, his dove-gray flannels +flapping about his thin legs, his attenuated arms gyrating orders to +the relief party, who had spread the rugs and blankets on the +fire-endangered side of the pile of lumber and who were now soaking +them with water under Muggles's direction. Now and then, as some part +of the burning mass would collapse, a shower of sparks and smoke would +obscure Muggles; then he could be seen brushing the live coals from his +pajamas, darting here and there, shouting: "More water! More water! +Here, on this end! All together now!" fighting his way with hand raised +to keep the heat from blistering his face, a very Casabianca on the +burning deck. + +Soon the tongues of flame mounting skyward grew less in number; columns +of black smoke took the place of the shower of sparks; the light +flickering on the frightened tree-trunks began to pale; from the rugs +and blankets the hot steam no longer rose in clouds. The crisis had +passed! The pile was saved! Muggles had won! + +During all this time neither Monteith nor the big lumber-boss had put +in an appearance; nor had Podvine nor little Billy Salters lent a hand. +Bender had stuck to his post and so had Jackson, oblivious of the +whereabouts of any other member of the coterie except Muggles, whose +clothespin of a figure came into relief now and then against the flare +of the flames. Then Bender made his way back to the bungalow. + +The last man to leave the deck was Muggles. + +Backing slowly down the ladder one rung at a time, his face blistered, +his pajamas burnt into holes, he examined the surrounding lumber; saw +that all his orders had been carried out, gave some parting +instructions to the men to watch out for sparks, especially those +around the edge of the saved pile, and then slowly, and with great +dignity, made his way to the bungalow--his destiny fulfilled, his honor +maintained and his position assured among his fellows. He had now only +to await the plaudits of his comrades! + +As he pushed open the door and looked about him the color rose in his +cheeks and a kind of a hotness came from inside his pajamas. Grouped +about the low table, heaped with specimens of cut glass, a squatty +bottle, a siphon and a bowl of cracked ice, sat every member of the +coterie--Bender among them--Monteith in the easy chair at their head. +If any other occupation had engrossed their attention since the alarm +sounded there was no evidence of it either in their appearance or in +the tones of their voices. + +"Lo, the Conquering Hero," broke out Podvine. "Get up Billy and put a +wreath of laurel over his scorched and blistered brow." + +Muggles, for a moment, did not reply. The shock had taken his breath +away. He supposed every man had worked himself into exhaustion. The +only thing that had really dimmed his own triumph was the fear that on +reaching the bungalow he might find the blackened remains of one or +more of his comrades stretched out on the floor. + +"Didn't you fellows try to save anything?" he exploded. + +"Wasn't anything to save--mill was in no danger." + +"Why, the whole place would have gone if I hadn't--" + +"You're quite right, Muggles," said Monteith. "Let up on him, boys. You +worked like a beaver, old man. Sorry about the rugs--one was an old +Bokhara--but that's all right--of course you didn't stop to think." + +"Well, but, Monteith--what's a rug or two when you have to save a pile +of--what's the lumber worth, anyhow?" + +"Oh, well, never mind--let it go, old man." + +Bender, who was still soaking wet from splashing buckets, and since his +return to the bungalow had been boiling mad clear through, sprang to +his feet. + +"I'll tell you--I've just found out. As the pile now stands it's worth +four thousand dollars. If it had burned up it would have been worth +six. It's insured, you goat!" + + + + +The End + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Veiled Lady, by F. Hopkinson Smith + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VEILED LADY *** + +***** This file should be named 4713.txt or 4713.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/7/1/4713/ + +Produced by Duncan Harrod. HTML version by Al Haines. + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Hopkinson Smith + +Release Date: December, 2003 [Etext #4713] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on March 6, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Veiled Lady, by F. Hopkinson Smith +********This file should be named vldld10.txt or vldld10.zip******** + +Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, vldld11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, vldld10a.txt + +Produced by Duncan Harrod + + +Project Gutenberg Etexts are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we usually do not +keep etexts in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +The "legal small print" and other information about this book +may now be found at the end of this file. Please read this +important information, as it gives you specific rights and +tells you about restrictions in how the file may be used. + + + + + + + + + + +THE VEILED LADY + +And Other Men And Women + +By + +F. Hopkinson Smith + + + + + +To my Readers: + +This collection of stories has been labelled "The +Veiled Lady" as being the easiest way out of a +dilemma; and yet the title may be misleading. While, +beyond doubt, there is between these covers a most +charming and lovable Houri, to whom the nightingales +sing lullabies, there can also be found a surpassingly +beautiful Venetian whose love affairs upset +a Quarter, a common-sense, motherly nurse whose +heart warmed toward her companion in the adjoining +berth, a plucky New England girl with the courage +of her convictions, and a prim spinster whose only +consolation was the boarder who sat opposite. + +Nor does the list by any means end here. Rough +sea-dogs, with friendly feelings toward other dogs, +crop up, as well as brave Titans who make derricks +of their arms and fender-piles of their bodies. Here, +too, are skinny, sun-dried Excellencies with a taste +for revolutions, well-groomed club swells with a taste +for adventure and cocktails, not to mention half a +dozen gay, rollicking Bohemians with a taste for +everything that came their way. + +Perhaps it might have been best to enclose each +story in a separate cover, and then to dump the unassorted +lot upon the table, where those who wished +could make their choice. And yet, as I turn the leaves, +I must admit that, after all, the present form is best, +since each and every incident, situation, and bit of local +color has either passed before or was poured into the +wide-open eyes and willing ears of your most humble +and obedient servant + +A Staid Old Painter. + +150 East 34th Street, +New York, March 13, 1907. + + + + +THE VEILED LADY OF STAMBOUL + + + +Joe Hornstog told me this story--the first part of +it; the last part of it came to me in a way which +proves how small the world is. + +Joe belongs to that conglomerate mass of heterogeneous +nationalities found around the Golden Horn, +whose ancestry is as difficult to trace as a gypsy's. +He says he is a "Jew gentleman from Germany," +but he can't prove it, and he knows he can't. + +There is no question about his being part Jew, +and there is a strong probability of his being part +German, and, strange to say, there is not the slightest +doubt of his being part gentleman--in his own estimation; +and I must say in mine, when I look back +over an acquaintance covering many years and +remember how completely my bank account was at +his disposal and how little of its contents he appropriated. + +And yet, were I required to hold up my hand in +open court, I would have to affirm that Joe, whatever +his other strains might be, was, after all, ninety-nine +per cent. Levantine--which is another way of saying +that he is part of every nationality about him. + +As to his honesty and loyalty, is he not the chosen +dragoman of kings and princes when they journey +into far distant lands (he speaks seven languages +and many tribal dialects), and is he not today wearing +in his buttonhole the ribbon of the order of the +Mejidieh, bestowed upon him by his Imperial Highness +the Sultan, in reward for his ability and faithfulness? + +I must admit that I myself have been his debtor-- +not once, but many times. It was this same quick- +sighted, quick-witted Levantine who lifted me from +my sketching stool and stood me on my feet in the +plaza of the Hippodrome one morning just in time +to prevent my being trodden under foot by six Turks +carrying the body of their friend to the cemetery-- +in time, too, to save me from the unforgivable sin +among Orientals, of want of reverence for their dead. +I had heard the tramp of the pall-bearers, and supposing +it to be that of the Turkish patrol, had kept +at work. They were prowling everywhere, day and +night, and during those days they passed every ten +minutes--nine soldiers in charge of an officer of +police--all owing to the fact that some five thousand +Armenians, anxious to establish a new form of government, +had been wiped out of existence only the +week before. + +Once on my feet (Joe accomplished his purpose +with the help of my suspenders) and the situation +clear, I had sense enough left to uncover my head +and stand in an attitude of profound reverence until +the procession had passed. I can see them now--the +coffin wrapped in a camel's-hair shawl, the dead man's +fez and turban resting on top. Then I replaced my +hat and finished the last of the six minarets of the +mosque gleaming like opals in the soft light of the +morning. + +This act of courtesy, due so little to my own initiative, +and so largely to Joe's, gained for me many +friends in and about the mosque--not only those of +the dead man, one of whom rowed a caique, but among +the priests who formed the funeral cortege--a fact +unknown to me until Joe imparted it. "Turk-man +say you good man, effendi," was the way he put it. +"You stoop over yourselluf humble for their dead." + +On another occasion Joe again stood by my side +when, with hat off and with body in a half kotow, I +sat before the Pasha, who was acting chief of police +after that stormy Armenian week--it was over really +in five days. + +"Most High Potentate," Joe began, translating +my plain Anglo-Saxon "Please, sir," into Eastern +hyperbolics, "I again seek your Excellency's presence +to make my obeisance and to crave your permission +to transfer to cheap paper some of the glories of this +City of Turquoise and Ivory. This, if your Highness +will deign to remember, is not the first time I have +trespassed. Twice before have I prostrated myself, +and twice has your Sublimity granted my request." + +"These be troublous times," puffed his Swarthiness +through his mustache, his tobacco-stained fingers +meanwhile rolling a cigarette; a dark-skinned, +heavily-bearded Oriental, this Pasha, with an eye +that burned holes in you. "You should await a +more peaceful season, effendi, for your art." + +"On account of the Armenians, your Excellency?" +I ventured to inquire with a smile. + +"Yes." This, in translation by Joe, came with +a whistling sound, like the escaping steam of a +radiator. + +"But why should I fear these disturbers of the +peace, your Supreme Highness? The Turk is my +friend, and has been for years. They know me and my +pure and unblemished life. They also know by this +time that I have been one of the chosen few among +nations who have enjoyed your Highness's confidence, +and to whom you have given protection." +Here my spine took the form of a horseshoe curve-- +Moorish pattern. "As to these dogs of Armenians" +(this last was Joe's, given with a growl to show his +deep detestation of the race--part of his own, if he +would but acknowledge it), "your Excellency will +look out for them." He WAS looking out for them +at the rate of one hundred a day and no questions +asked or answered so far as the poor fellows were +concerned. + +At this the distinguished Oriental finished rolling +his cigarette, looked at me blandly--it is astonishing +how sweet a smile can overspread the face of a Turk +when he is granting you a favor or signing the death +warrant of an infidel--clapped his hands, summoning +an attendant who came in on all fours, and whispered +an order in the left ear of the almost prostrate +man. This done, the Pasha rose from his seat, +straightened his shoulders (no handsomer men the +world over than these high-class Turks), shook my +hand warmly, gave me the Turkish salute--heart, +mouth, and forehead touched with the tips of flying +fingers--and bowed me out. + +Once through the flat leather curtain that hid the +exit door of the Pasha's office, and into the bare +corridor, I led Joe to a corner out of the hearing +of the ever-present spy, and, nailing him to the wall, +propounded this query: + +"What did the High-Pan-Jam say, Joe?" + +Hornstog raised his shoulders level with his ears, +fanned out his fingers, crooked his elbows, and in his +best conglomerate answered: + +"He say, effendi, that a guard of ein men, Yusuf, +his name--I know him--he is in the Secret Service-- +oh, we will have no trouble with him--" Here +Joe chafed his thumb and forefinger with the movement +of a paying teller counting a roll. "He come +every morning to Galata Bridge for you me. He +say, too, if any trouble while you paint I go him-- +ah, effendi, it is only Joe Hornstog can do these +things. The Pasha, he know me--all good Turk-men +know me. Where we paint now, subito? In the +plaza, or in the patio of the Valedee, like last year?" + +"Neither. We go first to the Mosque of Suleiman. +I want the view through the gate of the court-yard, +with the mosque in the background. Best place is +below the cafe. Pick up those traps and come along." + +Thus it was that on this particular summer afternoon +Joe and I found ourselves on the shadow side +of a wall up a crooked, break-neck street paved with +rocks, each as big as a dress-suit case, from which I +got a full view of the wonderful mosque tossing its +splendors into the still air, its cresting of minarets +so much frozen spray against the blue. + +The little comedy--or shall I say tragedy?--began +a few minutes after I had opened my easel--I sitting +crouched in the shadow, my elbow touching the +plastered wall. Only Joe and I were present. +Yusuf, the guard, a skinny, half-fed Turk in fez +and European dress, had as usual betaken himself +to the cafe fronting the same sidewalk on which I +sat, but half a block away; far enough to be out of +hearing, but near enough to miss my presence should +I decamp suddenly without notifying him. There +he drank some fifty cups of coffee, each one the size +of a thimble, and smoked as many cigarettes, their +burned stubs locating his seat under the cafe awning +as clearly as peanut-shells mark a boy's at the circus. +I, of course, paid for both. + +So absorbed was I in my work--the mosque never +was so beautiful as on that day--I gave no thought +to the fact that in my eagerness to hide my canvas +from the prying sun I had really backed myself into +a small wooden gate, its lintel level with the sidewalk +--a dry, dusty, sun-blistered gate, without lock or +hasp on the outside, and evidently long closed. Even +then I would not have noticed it, had not my ears +caught the sound of a voice--two voices, in fact--low, +gurgling voices--as if a fountain had just been +turned on, spattering the leaves about it. Then my +eye lighted, not only on the gate, but upon a seam or +split in the wood, half-way up its height, showing +where a panel was sometimes pushed back, perhaps +for surer identification, before the inside wooden +beam would be loosened. + +So potent was the spell of the mosque's witchery +that the next instant I should have forgotten both +door and panel had not Joe touched the toe of my boot +with his own--he was sitting close to me--and in +explanation lifted his eyebrow a hair's breadth, his +eyes fixed on the slowly sliding panel--sliding noiselessly, +an inch at a time. Only then did my mind act. + +What I saw was first a glow of yellow green, then +a mass of blossoms, then a throat, chin and face, +one after another, all veiled in a gossamer thin as a +spider's web, and last--and these I shall never forget +--a pair of eyes shining clear below and above the +veil, and which gazed into mine with the same steady, +full, unfrightened look one sometimes sees on the +face of a summer moon when it bursts through a +rift in the clouds. + +"Don't move and don't look," whispered Joe in +my ear, a tone in his voice of one who had just seen +a ghost. "Allah! Ekber! Yuleima!" + +"Who is she?" I answered, craning my neck to +see the closer. + +"No speak now--keep still," he mumbled under +his breath. + +It may have been the gossamer veil shading a +rose skin, making pink pearls of the cheeks and chin +and lending its charm to the other features; or it +may have been the wonderful eyes that made me +oblivious of Joe's warning, for I did look--looked +with all my eyes, and kept on looking. + +Men have died for just such eyes. Even now, +staid old painter as I am, the very remembrance +of their wondrous size--big as a young doe's and as +pleading, their lids fringed by long feathery lashes +that opened and shut with the movement of a tired +butterfly--sends little thrills of delight scampering +up and down my spine. Bulbuls, timid gazelles, perfumed +narghilehs, anklets of beaten gold strung with +turquoise, tinkling cymbals, tiny turned-up slippers +with silk tassels on their toes--everything that told +of the intoxicating life of the East were mirrored in +their unfathomed depths. + +Most of these qualities, I am aware, are found in +many another pair of lambent, dreamy eyes half- +hidden by the soft folds of a yashmak--eyes which +these houris often flash on some poor devil of a +giaour, knowing how safe they are and how slim his +chance for further acquaintance. Strange tales are +told of their seductive power and strange disappearances +take place because of them. And yet I saw +at a glance that there was nothing of all this in her +wondering gaze. Her eyes, in fact, were fixed neither +on Joseph nor on me, nor did they linger for one +instant on the beautiful mosque. It was my canvas +that held their gaze. Men and mosques were old +stories; pictures of either as astounding as a glimpse +into heaven. + +Again Joe bent his head and whispered to me, his +glance this time on the mosque, on the hill, on the +cafe, where Yusuf sat sipping his coffee, talking to +me all the time out of the corner of his mouth. + +"Remember, effendi, if Yusuf come we go way +chabouk. You look at your picture all time--paint-- +no look at her. If Yusuf come and catch us it make +trouble for her--make trouble for you--make more +trouble for me. Police Pasha don't know she come to +this garden--I think somebody must help her. You +better stop now and go cafe. I find Yusuf. I no +like this place." + +With this Hornstog rose to his feet and began packing +the trap, still whispering, his eyes on the ground. +Never once did he look in the direction of the houri +peering through the sliding panel. + +The clatter of a horse's hoofs now resounded +through the still air. A mounted officer was approaching. +Joe looked up, turned a light pea-green, +backed his body into the gate with the movement +of an eel, put his cheek close to the sliding panel, +and whispered some words in Turkish. The girl +leaned a little forward, glanced at the officer as if +in confirmation of Joseph's warning, and smothering +a low cry, sprang back from the opening. The next +instant my eye caught the thumb and forefinger of +a black hand noiselessly closing the panel. Joe +straightened up, pulled himself into the position of +a sentinel on guard, saluted the officer, who passed +without looking to the right or left, drew a handkerchief +from his pocket, and began mopping his head. + +"What the devil is it all about, Joe? Why, you +look as if you had had the wind knocked out of you." + +"Oh, awful close, awful close! I tell you--but +not here. Come, we go 'way--we go now--not stay +here any more. If that officer see the lady with us +the Pasha send me to black mosque for five year and +you find yourself board ship on way to Tripoli. Here +come Yusuf--damn him! You tell him you no like +view of mosque from here--say you find another +place to-morrow--you do this quick. Hornstog +never lie." + +On my way across the Galata Bridge to my quarters +in Pera that same afternoon Joe followed until +Yusuf had made his kotow and we had made ours, the +three ending in a triple flight of fingers--waited until +the guard was well on his way back to the Pasha's +office--it was but a short way from the Stamboul end +of the Galata--and drawing me into one of the small +cafes overlooking the waters of the Golden Horn, +seated me at the far end near a window where we +could talk without being overheard. Here Joe ordered +coffee and laid a package of cigarettes on the table. + +"My! but that was like the razor at the throat-- +not for all the hairs on my head would I had her +look out the small hole in the door when Serim come +along. Somebody must be take care of you, you Joe +Hornstog, that you don't make damn big fool of +yourselluf. Ha! but it make me creep like a spider +crawl." + +I had pulled up a chair by this time and was facing +him. + +"Now what is it? Who is the girl? Who was +the chap on horseback?" + +"That man on the horse is Serim Pasha, chief +of the palace police. He has eyes around twice; one +in the forehead, one in each ear, one in the behind +of his head. He did not see her--if he did--well, +we would not be talk now together--sure not after +to-morrow night." + +"But what has he got to do with it? What did you +say her name was? Yuleima?" + +"Yes, Yuleima. What has Serim to do with her? +Well, I tell you. If she get away off go Serim's +head. Listen! I speak something you never hear +anywhere 'cept in Turk-man's land. I know it all-- +everything. I know her prince--he knows me. I +meet him Damascus once--he told me some things +then--the tears run his cheeks down like a baby's +when he talk--and Serim know I know somethings! +Ah! that's why he not believe me if he catch me talk +to her. Afterward I find more out from my friend +in Yuleima's house--he is the gardener. Put your +head close, effendi." + +I drew my chair nearer and listened. + +"Yuleima," began Joe, "is one womans like no +other womans in all--" + +But I shall not attempt the dragoman's halting, +broken jargon interspersed with Italian and German +words--it will grate on you as it grated on me. I +will assume for the moment--and Joe would be most +thankful to have me do so--that the learned Hornstog, +the friend of kings and princes, is as fluent in +English as he is in Turkish, Arabic, and Greek. + +It all began in a caique--or rather in two caiques. +One was on its way to a little white house that nestles +among the firs at the foot of the bare brown hill overlooking +the village of Beicos. The other was bound +for the Fountain Beautiful, where the women and +their slaves take the air in the soft summer mornings. + +In the first caique, rowed by two caique-jis gorgeously +dressed in fluffy trousers and blouses embroidered +in gold, sat the daughter of the rich Bagdad +merchant. + +In the second caique, cigarette in hand, lounged +the nephew of the Khedive, Mahmoud Bey; scarce +twenty, slight, oval face with full lips, hair black as +sealskin and as soft, and eyes that smouldered under +heavy lids. Four rowers in blue and silver attended +his Highness, the amber-colored boat skimming the +waters as a tropical bird skims a lagoon. + +The two had passed each other the week before +on the day of the Selamlik (the Turkish holiday) +while paddling up the Sweet Waters of Asia--a little +brook running into the Bosphorus and deep +enough for caiques to float, and every day since that +blissful moment my lady had spent the morning +under the wide-spreading plane-trees shading the +Fountain Beautiful--the Chesmegazell--attended by +her faithful slave Multif, her beautiful body stretched +on a Damascus rug of priceless value, her eager eyes +searching the blue waters of the Bosphorus. + +On this particular morning--my lady had just +stepped into her boat--the young man was seen to +raise himself on his elbow, lift his eyelids, and a +slight flush suffused his swarthy cheeks. Then came +an order in a low voice, and the caique swerved in its +course and headed for the dot of white and gold in +which sat Multif and my lady. The Spanish caballero +haunts the sidewalk and watches all day beneath +his Dulcinea's balcony; or he talks to her across the +opera-house or bull-ring with cigarette, fingers, and +cane, she replying with studied movements of her +fan. In the empire of Mohammed, with a hundred +eyes on watch--eyes of eunuchs, spies, and parents-- +love-making is reduced to a passing glance, brief as +a flash of light, and sometimes as blinding. + +That was all that took place when the two caiques +passed--just a thinning of the silken veil, with only +one fold of the yashmak slipped over the eyes, softening +the fire of their beauty; then a quick, all-enfolding, +all-absorbing look, as if she would drink into her +very soul the man she loved, and the two tiny boats +kept each on its way. + +The second act of the comedy opens in a small +cove, an indent of the Bosphorus, out of sight of +passing boat-patrols--out of sight, too, of inquisitive +wayfarers passing along the highroad from +Beicos to Danikeui. Above the cove, running from +the very beach, sweeps a garden, shaded by great +trees and tangles of underbrush; one bunch smothering +a summer-house. This is connected by a sheltered +path with the little white house that nestles among +the firs half-way up the steep brown hill that overlooks +the village of Beicos. + +The water-patrol may have been friendly, or my +lady's favorite slave resourceful, but almost every +night for weeks the first caique and the second +caique had lain side by side in the boat-house in the +cove, both empty, except for one trusty man who +loved Mahmoud and who did his bidding without +murmur or question, no matter what the danger. +Higher up, her loose white robes splashed with the +molten silver of the moon filtering through overhanging +leaves, where even the nightingale stopped to +listen, could be heard the cooing of two voices. Then +would come a warning cry, and a figure closely +veiled would speed up the path. Next could be heard +the splash of oars of the first caique homeward bound. + +Locksmiths are bunglers in the East compared to +patrols and eunuchs. Lovers may smile, but they +never laugh at them. There is always a day of +reckoning. A whisper goes around; some disgruntled +servant shakes his head; and an old fellow +with baggy trousers and fez, says: "My daughter, +I am surprised" or "pained" or "outraged," or +whatever he does say in polite Turkish, Arabic, or +Greek, and my lady is locked up on bread and water, +or fig-paste, or Turkish Delight, and all is over. +Sometimes the young Lothario is ordered back to his +regiment, or sent to Van or Trebizond or Egypt for +the good of his morals, or his health or the community +in which he lives. Sometimes everybody accepts the +situation and the banns are called and they live happy +ever after. + +What complicated this situation was that the girl, +although as beautiful as a dream--any number of +dreams, for that matter, and all of paradise--was +a plebeian and the young man of royal blood. Furthermore, +any number of parents, her own two and twice +as many uncles and aunts, might get together and +give, not only their blessing, but lands and palaces-- +two on the Bosphorus, one in Bagdad and another at +Smyrna, and nothing would avail unless his Imperial +Highness the Sultan gave his consent. Futhermore, +again, should it come to the ears of his August Presence +that any such scandalous alliance was in contemplation, +several yards of additional bow-strings +would be purchased and the whole coterie experience +a choking sensation which would last them the balance +of their lives. + +Thus it was that, after that most blissful night +in the arbor--their last--in which she had clung to +him as if knowing he was about to slip forever from +her arms, both caiques were laid up for the season; +the first tight locked and guarded in the palace of +the young man's father, five miles along the blue +Bosphorus as the bird flies, and the second in the +little boat-house in the small indent of a cove under +the garden holding the beloved arbor, the little white +house, and My Lady of the diaphanous veil and the +all-absorbing eyes. + +With the lifting of the curtain on the third act, +the scene shifts. No more Sweet Waters, no more +caiques nor stolen interviews, the music of hot kisses +drowned in the splash of the listening fountain. Instead, +there is seen a sumptuously furnished interior +the walls wainscoted in Moorish mosaics and lined +by broad divans covered with silken rugs. Small +tables stand about holding trays of cigarettes and +sweets. Over against a window overlooking a garden +lounges a group of women--some young, some old, +one or two of them black as coal. It is the harem +of the Pasha, the father of Mahmoud, Prince of the +Rising Sun, Chosen of the Faithful, Governor of a +province, and of forty other things beside--most +of which Joe had forgotten. + +Months had passed since that night in the arbor. +Yuleima had cried her eyes out, and Mahmoud had +shaken his fists and belabored his head, swearing +by the beard of the Prophet that come what might +Yuleima should be his. + +Then came the death of the paternal potentate, +and the young lover was free--free to come and go, +to love, to hate; free to follow the carriage of his +imperial master in his race up the hill after the ceremony +of the Selamlik; free to choose any number of +Yuleimas for his solace; free to do whatever pleased +him--except to make the beautiful Yuleima his +spouse. This the High-Mightinesses forbade. There +were no personal grounds for their objection. The +daughter of the rich Bagdad merchant was as gentle +as a doe, beautiful as a star seen through the soft +mists of the morning, and of stainless virtue. Her +father had ever been a loyal subject, giving of his +substance to both church and state, but there were +other things to consider, among them a spouse especially +selected by a council of High Pan-Jams, whose +decision, having been approved by their imperial master, +was not only binding, but final--so final that +death awaited any one who would dare oppose it. At +the feast of Ramazan the two should wed. Yuleima +might take second, third, or fortieth place--but not +first. + +The young prince gritted his row of white teeth +and flashed his slumbering eyes--and they could +flash--blaze sometimes--with a fire that scorched. +Yuleima would be his, unsullied in his own eyes and +the world's, or she should remain in the little white +house on the brown hill and continue to blur her +beautiful eyes with the tears of her grief. + +Then the favorite slave and the faithful caique-ji +--the one who found the little cove even on the darkest +night--put their heads together--two very cunning +and wise heads, one black and wrinkled and the +other sun-tanned and yellow--with the result that +one night a new odalisque, a dark-skinned, black- +haired houri, the exact opposite of the fair-skinned, +fair-haired Yuleima, joined the coterie in the harem +of the palace of the prince. She had been bought +with a great price and smuggled into Stamboul, the +story ran, a present from a distinguished friend of +his father, little courtesies like this being common +in Oriental countries, as one would send a bottle of +old Madeira from his cellar or a choice cut of venison +from his estate, such customs as is well known being +purely a matter of geography. + +The chief blackamoor, a shambling, knock-kneed, +round-shouldered, swollen-paunched apology for a +man, with blistered, cracked lips, jaundiced pig eyes, +and the skin of a terrapin, looked her all over, grunted +his approval, and with a side-lunge of his fat empty +head, indicated the divan which was to be hers during +the years of her imprisonment. + +One night some words passed between the two +over the division of bonbons, perhaps, or whose turn +it was to take afternoon tea with the prince--it had +generally been the new houri's, resulting in considerable +jealousy and consequent discord--or some trifle +of that sort (Joe had never been in a harem, and was +therefore indefinite), when the blackamoor, to punctuate +his remarks, slashed the odalisque across her +thinly covered shoulders with a knout--a not uncommon +mode of enforcing discipline, so Joe assured me. + +Then came the great scene of the third act-- +always the place for it, so dramatists say. + +The dark-skinned houri sprang up, rose to her +full height, her eyes blazing, and facing her tormentor, +cried: + +"You blackguard"--a true statement--"do you +know who I am?" + +"Yes, perfectly; you are Yuleima, the daughter +of the Bagdad merchant." + +The fourth act takes place on the outskirts of Stamboul, +in a small house surrounded by a high wall +which connects with the garden of a mosque. The exposure +by the eunuch had resulted in an investigation +by the palace clique, which extended to the Bagdad +merchant and his family, who, in explanation, not +only denounced her as an ungrateful child, cursing +her for her opposition to her sovereign's will, but +denied all knowledge of her whereabouts. They supposed, +they pleaded, that she had thrown herself +into the Bosphorus at the loss of her lover. Then +followed the bundling up of Yuleima in the still +watches of the night; her bestowal at the bottom of +a caique, her transfer to Stamboul, and her incarceration +in charge of an attendant in a deserted house +belonging to the mosque. The rumor was then set +on foot that it was unlawful to look steadily into the +waters of the Bosphorus or to attempt the salvage +of any derelict body floating by. + +The prince made another assault on his hair and +tightened his fingers, this time with a movement as +if he was twisting them round somebody's throat, +but he made no outcry. It is hard to kick against +the pricks in some lands. + +He did not believe the bow-string pillow-case and +solid-shot story, but he knew that he should never +look upon her face again. What he did believe was +that she had been taken to some distant city and there +sold. + +For days he shut himself up in his palace. Then, +having overheard a conversation in his garden between +two eunuchs--placed there for that purpose-- +he got together a few belongings, took his faithful +caique-ji, and travelled a-field. If what he had heard +was true she was in or near Damascus. Here would +he go. If, after searching every nook and cranny, he +failed to find her, he would return and carry out his +sovereign's commands and marry the princess--a +woman he had never laid his eyes on and who might +be as ugly as sin and as misshapen as Yuleima was +beautiful. It was while engaged in this fruitless +search that he met Joseph, to whom he had poured +out his heart (so Joe assured me, with his hand on +his shirt-front), hoping to enlist his sympathies and +thus gain his assistance. + +All this time the heartbroken girl, rudely awakened +from her dream of bliss, was a prisoner in the +deserted house next the mosque. As the dreary +months went by her skin regained its pinkness and +her beautiful hair its golden tint,--walnut shells and +cosmetics not being found in the private toilet of the +priests and their companions. When the summer +came a greater privilege was given her. She could +never speak to any one and no one could speak to +her--even the priests knew this--but a gate opening +into the high-walled garden was left unlocked now +and then by one of the kind-hearted Mohammedans, +and often she would wander as far as the end of the +wall overlooking the Mosque of Suleiman, her attendant +always with her--a black woman appointed by +Chief-of-Police Selim, and responsible for her safety, +and who would pay forfeit with her head if Yuleima +escaped. + +"And you think now, effendi," concluded Joe, as +he drained his last cup of coffee (Hornstog's limit +was twenty cups at intervals of three minutes each), +"that Joe be big damn fool to put his foots in this-- +what you call--steel trap? No, no, we keep away. +To-morrow, don't it, we take Yusuf and go Scutari? +One beautiful fountain at Scutari like you never +see!" + +"But can't her father help?" I asked, ignoring +his suggestion. His caution did not interest me. It +was the imprisoned girl and her suffering that occupied +my thoughts. + +"Yes, perhaps, but not yet. I somethings hear +one day from the gardener who live with her father, +but maybe it all lie. He say Serim come and say--" +Again Joe chafed his thumb and forefinger, after the +manner of the paying teller. "Maybe ten thousand +piastres--maybe twenty. Her father would pay, of +course, only the Sultan might not like--then worse +trouble--nothing will be done anyhow until the wedding +is over. Then, perhaps, some time." + +I did not go to Scutari the next day. I opened my +easel in the patio of the Pigeon Mosque and started +in to paint the plaza with Cleopatra's Needle in the +distance. This would occupy the morning. In the +afternoon I would finish my sketch of Suleiman. +Should Joe have a fresh attack of ague he could join +Yusuf at the cafe and forget it in the thimbelful +that cheers but does not inebriate. + +With the setting up of my tripod and umbrella +and the opening of my color-box a crowd began +to gather--market people, fruit-sellers, peddlers, +scribes, and soldiers. Then a shrill voice rang out +from one of the minarets calling the people to prayer. +A group of priests now joined the throng about me +watched me for a moment, consulted together, and +then one of them, an old man in a silken robe of +corn-yellow bound about with a broad sash of baby +blue, a majestic old man, with a certain rhythmic +movement about him which was enchanting, laid +his hand on Joseph's shoulder and looking into +his eyes, begged him to say to his master that the +making of pictures of any living or dead thing, especially +mosques, was contrary to their religion, and +that the effendi must fold his tent. + +All this time another priest, an old patriarch with +a fez and green turban and Nile-green robe overlaid +with another of rose-pink, was scrutinizing my face. +Then the corn-yellow fellow and the rose-pink patriarch +put their heads together, consulted for a moment, +made me a low bow, performed the flying-fingers act, +and floated off toward the mosque. + +"You no go 'way, effendi," explained Joe. "The +priest in green turban say he remember you; he say +you holy man who bow yourselluf humble when dead +man go by. No stop paint." + +The protests of the priests, followed by their consultation +and quiet withdrawal, packed the crowd the +closer. One young man in citizen's dress and fez stood +on the edge of the throng trying to understand the +cause of the excitement. + +Joe, who was sitting by me assisting with the water- +cup, gazed into the intruder's face a moment, then +closed upon my arm with a grip as if he'd break it. + +"Allah! Mahmoud Bey!" he whispered. "Yuleima's +prince. That's him with the smooth face." + +The next instant the young man stood by my side. + +"The people are only curious, monsieur," he said +in French. "If they disturb you I will have them +sent away. So few painters come--you are the first +I have seen in many years. If it will not annoy you, +I'd like to watch you a while." + +"Annoy me, my dear sir!" I was on my feet +now, hat in hand. (If he had been my long-lost +brother, stolen by the Indians or left on a desert +island to starve--or any or all of those picturesque +and dramatic things--I could not have been more +glad to see him. I fairly hugged myself--it seemed +too good to be true.) "I will be more than delighted +if you will take my dragoman's stool. Get up, Joe, +and give--" + +The request had already been forestalled. Joe +was not only up, but was bowing with the regularity +and precision of the arms of a windmill, his fingers, +with every rise, fluttering between his shirt-stud and +his eyebrows. On his second upsweep the young +prince got a view of his face--then his hand went +out. + +"Why, it is Hornstog! We know each other. We +met in Damascus. You could not, monsieur, find a +better dragoman in all Constantinople." + +Only three pairs of eyes now followed the movements +of my brush, the crowd having fallen back out +of respect for the young man's rank, Yusuf having +communicated that fact to those who had not recognized +him. + +When the light changed--and it changed unusually +early that morning, about two hours ahead of +time (I helped)--I said to the prince: + +"It may interest you to see me finish a sketch in +color. Come with me as far as Suleiman. We can +sit quite out of the sun up a little back street under +a wall, and away from everybody. I began the drawing +yesterday. See!" and I uncovered the canvas. + +"Ah, Suleimanyeh! The most beautiful of all our +mosques. Yes, certainly I'll go." + +Joe dug his knuckles into my thigh, under pretence +of steadying himself--he was squatting beside me like +a frog, helping with the water-cups--and gasped: +"No; don't take him--please, effendi! No-- +no--" + +I brushed Joe aside and continued: "We can send +for coffee and spend the afternoon. I'll have some +chairs brought from the cafe. Pick up everything, +Joe, and come along." + +On the way to the crooked, break-neck street my +thoughts went racing through my head. On one side, +perhaps, a tap on the shoulder in the middle of the +night; half a yard of catgut in the hands of a Bashi- +Bazouk; an appeal to our consul, with the consciousness +of having meddled with something that did not +concern me. On the other a pair of tear-stained, +pleading eyes. Not my eyes--not the eyes of anybody +that I knew--but the kind that raise the devil +even in the heart of a staid old painter like myself. + +Joe followed, with downcast gaze. He, too, was +scheming. He could not protest before the prince, +nor before Yusuf. That would imply previous +knowledge of the danger lurking in the vicinity of +the old wall. His was the devil and the deep sea. +Not to tell the prince of Yuleima's whereabouts, +after their combined search for her, and the fees the +prince had paid him, would be as cruel as it was disloyal. +To assist in Mahmoud's finding her would +bring down upon his own head--if it was still on his +shoulders--the wrath of the chief of police, as well +as the power behind him. + +Once under the shadow of the wall, the trap unpacked, +easel and umbrella up, and water-bottle +filled, Joe started his windmill, paused at the third +kotow, looked me straight in the eye, and, with a tone +in his voice, as if he had at last come to some conclusion, +made this request: + +"I have no eat breakfast, effendi--very hungry-- +you please permit Joe go cafe with Yusuf--we stay +ONE hour, no more. Then I bring coffee. You see +me when I come--I bring the coffee myselluf." + +He could not have pleased me more. How to get +rid of them both was what had been bothering me. + +I painted on, both of us backed into the low gate +with the sliding panel, my eyes on the mosque, my +ears open for the slightest sound. We talked of the +wonderful architecture of the East, of the taper of +the minarets, of the grace and dignity of the priests, +of the social life of the people, I leading and he +following, until I had brought the conversation down +to the question: + +"And when you young men decide to marry are +you free to choose, as we Europeans are?" I was +feeling about, wondering how much of his confidence +he would give me. + +"No; that's why, sometimes, I wish I was like +one of the white gulls that fly over the water." + +"I don't understand." + +"I would be out at sea with my mate--that's +what I mean." + +"Have you a mate?" + +"I had. She is lost." + +"Dead?" + +"Worse." + +I kept at work. White clouds sailed over the +mosque; a flurry of pigeons swept by; the air blew +fresh. With the exception of my companion and +myself the street was deserted. I dared not go any +further in my inquiries. If I betrayed any more +interest or previous knowledge he might think I was +in league against him. + +"The girl, then, suffers equally with the man?" +I said, tightening one of the legs of my easel. + +"More. He can keep his body clean; she must +often barter hers in exchange for her life. A woman +doesn't count much in Turkey. This is one of the +things we young men who have seen something of the +outside world--I lived a year in Paris--will improve +when we get the power," and his eyes flashed. + +"And yet it is dangerous to help one of them to +escape, is it not?" + +"Yes." + +The hour was nearly up. Joe, I knew, had fixed +it, consulting his watch and comparing it with mine +so that I might know the coast was clear during that +brief period should anything happen. + +"I was tempted to help one yesterday," I answered. +"I saw a woman's face that has haunted me +ever since. She may not have been in trouble, but +she looked so." Then quietly, and as if it was only +one of the many incidents that cross a painter's path, +I described in minute detail the gate, the sliding +panel, the veiled face and wondrous eyes, the approach +of the officer, the smothered cry of terror, the +black finger and thumb that reached out, and the +noiseless closing of the panel. What I omitted was +all reference to Joe or his knowledge of the girl. + +Mahmoud was staring into my eyes now. + +"Where was this?" + +"Just behind you. Lift your head--that seam +marks the sliding panel. She may come again when +she sees the top of my umbrella over the wall. +Listen! That's her step. She has some one with her +--crouch down close. There's only room for her head. +You may see her then without her attendant knowing +you are here. Quick! she is sliding the panel!" + +Outside of Paris, overlooking the Seine, high up +on a hill, stands the Bellevue--a restaurant known +to half the world. Sweeping down from the perfectly +appointed tables lining the rail of the broad piazza; +skimming the tree-tops, the plain below, the twisting +river, rose-gold in the twilight, the dots of parks +and villas, the eye is lost in the distant city and the +haze beyond--the whole a-twinkle with myriads of +electric lights. + +There, one night, from my seat against the opposite +wall (I was dining alone), I was amusing myself +watching a table being set with more than usual care; +some rich American, perhaps, with the world in a +sling, or some young Russian running the gauntlet +of the dressing-rooms. Staid old painters like myself +take an interest in these things. They serve to fill +his note-book, and sometimes help to keep him young. + +When I looked again the waiter was drawing out +a chair for a woman with her back to me. In the +half-light, her figure, in silhouette against the cluster +of candles lighting the table, I could see that she was +young and, from the way she took her seat, wonderfully +graceful. Opposite her, drawing out his own +chair, stood a young man in evening dress, his head +outlined against the low, twilight sky. It was Mahmoud! + +I sprang from my seat and walked straight toward +them. There came a low cry of joy, and then four +outstretched arms--two of them tight-locked about +my neck. + +"Tell me," I asked, when we had seated ourselves, +Yuleima's hands still clinging to mine. "After I +left you that last night in the garden, was the boat +where we hid it?" + +"Yes." + +"Who rowed you to the steamer?" + +"My old caique-ji." + +"And who got the tickets and passports?" + +"Hornstog." + + + + +LORETTA OF THE SHIPYARDS + + + +I + + +For centuries the painters of Venice have seized +and made their own the objects they loved most in +this wondrous City by the Sea. Canaletto, ignoring +every other beautiful thing, laid hold of quays backed +by lines of palaces bordering the Grand Canal, dotted +with queer gondolas rowed by gondoliers, in queerer +hoods of red or black, depending on the guild to which +they belonged. Turner stamped his ownership on +sunset skies, silver dawns, illuminations, fetes, and +once in a while on a sweep down the canal past the +Salute, its dome a huge incandescent pearl. Ziem +tied up to the long wall and water steps of the Public +Garden, aflame with sails of red and gold: he is still +there--was the last I heard of him, octogenarian as +he is. Rico tacks his card to garden walls splashed +with the cool shadows of rose-pink oleanders dropping +their blossoms into white and green ripples, melting +into blue. As for me--I have laid hands on a canal +--the Rio Giuseppe--all of it--from the beginning +of the red wall where the sailors land, along its +crookednesses to the side entrance of the Public Garden, +and so past the rookeries to the lagoon, where +the tower of Castello is ready to topple into the sea. + +Not much of a canal--not much of a painting +ground really, to the masters who have gone before +and are still at work, but a truly lovable, lovely, and +most enchanting possession to me their humble disciple. +Once you get into it you never want to get out, +and, once out, you are miserable until you get back +again. On one side stretches a row of rookeries-- +a maze of hanging clothes, fish-nets, balconies hooded +by awnings and topped by nondescript chimneys of +all sizes and patterns, with here and there a dab +of vermilion and light red, the whole brilliant against +a china-blue sky. On the other runs the long brick +wall of the garden,--soggy, begrimed; streaked with +moss and lichen in bands of black-green and yellow +ochre, over which mass and sway the great sycamores +that Ziem loves, their lower branches interwoven +with zinnober cedars gleaming in spots where the prying +sun drips gold. + +Only wide enough for a barca and two gondolas to +pass--this canal of mine. Only deep enough to let +a wine barge through; so narrow you must go all +the way back to the lagoon if you would turn your +gondola; so short you can row through it in five +minutes; every inch of its water surface part of +everything about it, so clear are the reflections; full +of moods, whims, and fancies, this wave space--one +moment in a broad laugh coquetting with a bit of +blue sky peeping from behind a cloud, its cheeks +dimpled with sly undercurrents, the next swept by +flurries of little winds, soft as the breath of a child +on a mirror; then, when aroused by a passing boat, +breaking out into ribbons of color--swirls of twisted +doorways, flags, awnings, flower-laden balconies, +black-shawled Venetian beauties all upside down, interwoven +with strips of turquoise sky and green +waters--a bewildering, intoxicating jumble of tatters +and tangles, maddening in detail, brilliant in color, +harmonious in tone: the whole scintillating with a +picturesqueness beyond the ken or brush of any +painter living or dead. + +On summer days--none other for me in Venice +(the other fellow can have it in winter)--everybody +living in the rookeries camps out on the quay, +the women sitting in groups stringing beads, the +men flat on the pavement mending their nets. On +its edge, hanging over the water, reaching down, holding +on by a foot or an arm to the iron rail, are +massed the children--millions of children--I never +counted them, but still I say millions of children. +This has gone on since I first staked out my claim-- +was a part of the inducement, in fact, that decided me +to move in and take possession--boats, children, still +water, and rookeries being the ingredients from which +I concoct color combinations that some misguided +people take home and say they feel better for. + +If you ask me for how many years I have been sole +owner of this stretch of water I must refer you to +Loretta, who had lived just five summers when my +big gondolier, Luigi, pulled her dripping wet from +the canal, and who had lived eleven more--sixteen, in +all--when what I have to tell you happened. + +And yet, Loretta's little mishap, now I come to +think of it, does not go back far enough. My claim +was really staked out before she was born (I am still +in possession--that is--I was last year, and hope to be +this), and her becoming part of its record is but the +sticking of two pins along a chart,--the first marking +her entrance at five and the second her exit at sixteen. +All the other years of my occupation--those +before her coming and since her going--were, of +course, full of the kind of joy that comes to a painter, +but these eleven years--well, these had all of this +joy and then, too, they had--Loretta. + +I was in the bow of the gondola when the first +of these two pins found its place on the chart, working +away like mad, trying to get the exact shadow tones +on a sun-flecked wall. Luigi was aft, fast asleep, his +elbow under his head: I never object, for then he +doesn't shake the boat. Suddenly from out the hum +of the children's voices there came a scream vibrant +with terror. Then a splash! Then the gondola +swayed as if a barca had bumped it, and the next +thing I knew Luigi's body made a curve through +the air, struck the water, with an enormous souse, +and up came Loretta, her plump, wet little body +resting as easily on Luigi's hand, as a tray rests on a +waiter's. Another sweep with his free arm, and he +passed me the dripping child and clambered up +beside her. The whole affair had not occupied two +minutes. + +That was a great day for me! + +Heretofore I had been looked upon as a squatter: +possessing certain rights, of course, and more or less +welcome because of sundry lire expended for the temporary +use of fishing boats with sails up,--but still +an interloper. Now I became one of the thousand +families and the million children. These were all +in evidence in less than ten seconds; the peculiar +quality of that scream had done it; not only from +the top story of the highest rookery did they swarm, +but from every near-by campo, and way back to the +shipyards. + +Luigi pushed the gondola to the quay and I +lifted out the water-soaked, blue-lipped little tot, +her hair flattened against her cheeks (she was +laughing now,--"It was nothing," she said, "my +foot slipped,") and placed her in the hands of +the longest-armed fishwife; and then Luigi disappeared +into a door, level with the quay, from which +he reappeared ten minutes later in a suit of dry +clothes, the property of a fisherman, and of so grotesque +a fit, the trousers reaching to his knees and the +cuffs of the coat to his elbows, that he set the population +in a roar. My Luigi, you might as well +know, is six feet and an inch, with the torso of a +Greek god and a face that is twin to Colleone's, and, +furthermore, is quite as distinguished looking as that +gentleman on horseback, even if he does wear a straw +hat instead of a copper helmet. After this Loretta +became part of my establishment, especially at luncheon +time, Luigi hunting her up and bringing her +aboard in his arms, she clinging to his grizzled, sunburned +neck. Often she would spend the rest of the +day watching me paint. + +All I knew of her antecedents and life outside +of these visits was what Luigi told me. She was born, +he said, in the shipyards, and at the moment lived +in the top of the rookery nearest the bridge. She had +an only sister, who was ten years older; the mother +was the wife of a crab fisherman who had died some +years before; the two children and mother were +cared for by a brother crab fisherman. His son +Francesco, if report were true, was to marry the +sister when she turned fifteen, Francesco being four +years older. This last reference to Francesco came +with a shake of the head and a certain expression in +Luigi's eyes which told me at once that his opinion +of the prospective groom was not for publication-- +a way he has when he dislikes somebody and is too +polite to express it. + +"Fishes for crabs, like his father?" I asked. + +"Yes, crabs and young girls," he answered with +a frown. "A poor lot, these crab catchers, Signore. +Was it the charcoal or a brush you wanted?" + +Francesco did not interest me,--nor did the grownup +sister; nor the mother, over whom Luigi also +shrugged his shoulders. It was Loretta's chubbiness +that delighted my soul. + +Even at five she was a delightful little body, and +full of entrancing possibilities. One can always tell +what the blossom will be from the bud. In her +case, all the essentials of beauty were in evidence: +dark, lustrous velvety eyes; dazzling teeth--not one +missing; jet-black hair--and such a wealth of it, +almost to her shoulders; a slender figure, small hands +and feet; neat, well-turned ankles and wrists, and +rounded plump arms above the elbows. + +"What do you intend to do, little one, when you +grow up?" I asked her one morning. She was sitting +beside me, her eyes following every movement of my +brush. + +"Oh, what everybody does. I shall string beads +and then when I get big like my sister I shall go to +the priest and get married, and have a ring and new +shoes and a beautiful, beautiful veil all over my +hair." + +"So! And have you picked him out yet?" + +"Oh, no, Signore! Why, I am only a little girl. +But he will surely come,--they always come." + +These mornings in the gondola continued until she +was ten years old. Sometimes it was a melon held +high in the air that tempted her; or a basket of figs, +or some huge bunches of grapes; or a roll and a +broiled fish from a passing cook-boat: but the bait +always sufficed. With a little cry of joy the beads +would be dropped, or the neighbor's child passed to +another or whatever else occupied her busy head +and small hands, and away she would run to the water +steps and hold out her arms until Luigi rowed over +and lifted her in. She had changed, of course, in +these five years, and was still changing, but only as +an expanding bud changes. The eyes were the same +and so were the teeth--if any had dropped out, newer +and better ones had taken their places; the hair +though was richer, fuller, longer, more like coils of +liquid jet, with a blue sheen where the sky lights +touched its folds. The tight, trim little figure, too, +had loosened out in certain places--especially about +the chest and hips. Before many years she would +flower into the purest type of the Venetian--the most +beautiful woman the world knows. + +At sixteen she burst into bloom. + +I have never seen a black tulip, not a real velvet- +black, but if inside its shroud of glossy enfoldings-- +so like Loretta's hair--there lies enshrined a mouth +red as a pomegranate and as enticing, and if above +it there burn two eyes that would make a holy man +clutch his rosary; and if the flower sways on its stalk +with the movement of a sapling caressed by a summer +breeze;--then the black tulip is precisely the kind of +flower that Loretta bloomed into. + +And here the real trouble began,--just as it begins +for every other pretty Venetian, and here, too, must +I place the second pin in my chart. + +It all came through Francesco. The older sister +had died with the first child, and this crab catcher +had begun to stretch out his claws for Loretta. She +and her mother still lived with Francesco's father, +who was a widower. The mother kept the house for +all,--had done so for Francesco and her daughter +during their brief married life. + +In her persecution Loretta would pour out her +heart to Luigi, telling how they bothered her,--her +mother the most of all. She hated Francesco,--hated +his father,--hated everybody who wanted her to +marry the fisherman. (Luigi, poor fellow, had lost +his only daughter when she was five years of age, +which accounted, I always thought, for his interest +in the girl.) + +One morning she called to him and waited on the +quay until he could hail a passing barca and step +from the gondola to its deck and so ashore. Then +the two disappeared through the gate of the garden. + +"She is too pretty to go alone," he explained on +his return. "Every day she must pay a boy two +soldi, Signore, to escort her to the lace factory--the +boy is sick today and so I went with her. But their +foolishness will stop after this;--these rats know +Luigi." + +From this day on Loretta had the Riva to herself. + + + + +II + + + +So far there has been introduced into this story +the bad man, Francesco, with crab-like tendencies, +who has just lost his wife; the ravishingly beautiful +Loretta; the girl's mother, of whom all sorts of stories +were told--none to her credit; big tender-hearted +Luigi Zanaletto, prince of gondoliers, and last, and +this time least, a staid old painter who works in a +gondola up a crooked canal which is smothered in +trees, choked by patched-up boats and flanked by +tattered rookeries so shaky that the slightest earth +quiver would tumble them into kindling wood. + +There enters now another and much more important +character,--one infinitely more interesting to +my beautiful Lady of the Shipyards than any grandfather +gondolier or staid old painter who ever lived. +This young gentleman is twenty-one; has a head like +the Hermes, a body like the fauns, and winsome, languishing +eyes with a light in their depths which have +set the heart of every girl along his native Giudecca +pitapatting morning, noon, and night. He enjoys +the distinguished name of Vittorio Borodini, and is +the descendant of a family of gondoliers--of the guild +of the Castellani--who can trace their ancestral calling +back some two hundred years (so can Luigi; but +then Luigi never speaks of it, and the Borodinis +always do). Being aristocrats, the Zanalettos and +Borodinis naturally fraternize, and as they live in +the same quarter--away up on the Giudecca--two +miles from my canal--the fathers of Vittorio and +Luigi have become intimate friends. Anything, +therefore, touching the welfare of any one of the +descendants of so honorable a guild is more or less +vital to the members of both families. + +At the moment something HAD touched a Borodino +--and in the most vital of spots. This was nothing +less than the heart of young Vittorio, the pride +and hope of his father. He had seen the "Rose of +the Shipyards," as she was now called, pass the traghetto +of the Molo, off which lay his gondola awaiting +custom,--it was on one of the days when the +two-soldi boy acted as chaperon,--and his end had +come. + +It had only been a flash from out the lower +corner of the left eye of Loretta as she floated +along past the big columns of the Palazzo of +the Doges, but it had gone through the young gondolier +and out on the other side, leaving a wound that +nothing would heal. She had not intended to hurt +him, or even to attract him;--he only happened to +be in the way when her search-light illumined his +path. + +Vittorio knew at a glance that she came from the +rookeries and that he, the scion of a noble family, +should look higher for his mate, but that made no +difference. She was built for him and he was built +for her, and that was the end of it: not for an +intrigue--he was not constructed along those lines-- +but with a ring and a priest and all the rest of it. +The main difficulty was to find some one who knew +her. He would not,--could not, confront her; nor +would he follow her home; but something must be +done, and at once: a conclusion, it will be admitted, +than an incalculable number of young Vittorios have +reached, sooner or later, the world over. + +When, therefore, a rumor came to his ears that +Luigi the Primo was protecting her--the kind of +protection that could never be misunderstood in +Luigi's case--a piece of news which his informer was +convinced would end the projected intrigue of the +young gondolier, then and there and for all time, +Vittorio laughed so loud and so long, and so merrily, +that he lost, in consequence, two fares to San Giorgio, +and came near being reprimanded by the Gastaldo +for his carelessness. + +That was why late one afternoon (I was painting +the sunset glow) just as Loretta reached the edge of +the quay on her way home, a young fellow, in white +duck with a sash of dark red silk binding and hanging +from his waist and a rakish straw hat tipped over his +handsome face, shot his gondola alongside mine and +leaned over to whisper something in Luigi's ear. And +that was why the girl in her long black shawl stopped, +and why Luigi immediately changed gondolas and +made for the quay, and why they all talked together +for a moment, the girl flashing and the boy beaming, +and that was why, too, they all three disappeared +a moment later in the direction of the high rookery +where lived the baffled, love-sick Francesco, his anxious +father, the much-talked-about mother, and the +Rose of the Shipyards. + +In a garden where the soil is so rich that a seedling +of five--a mere slip--blooms into flower before +a foolish old painter can exhaust the subjects along +the canal, it is not surprising that a love affair reaches +its full growth between two suns. Not since the day +she had tumbled into the canal had she gone so headover +-heels--both of them. Nor did Luigi pull them +out. He helped in the drowning, really. + +He was talking to himself when he came back--a +soft light in his eyes, a smile lingering around the +corners of his up-turned, grizzled mustache. + +"It is good to be young, Signore, is it not?" was +all he said, and at once began bundling up my +traps. + +Before the week was out,--nay, before the setting of +two suns--every gossip along the Riva--and they +about covered the population--had become convinced +that Loretta was lost to the Quarter. Unless a wedding +ring was to end it all Vittorio would never be +so bold in his attentions to Loretta, as to walk home +with her nights and wait for her mornings. + +Luigi shook his head, but he did not help the gossips +solve the problem. He had had trouble enough +already with Vittorio's father. + +"A common wench from the yards, I hear, +Luigi!" he had blazed out--"and you, I understand, +brought them together--you,--who have been my +friend for--" + +"Stop, Borodini! Not another word! You are +angry, and when you are angry you are stupid. I +carried that girl in my arms when she was a baby! +I have watched over her ever since. A wench! Not +one of your own daughters has a heart so white. If +Vittorio is so great a coward as to listen to their talk +I'll keep her for his betters." + +All this snapped out of Luigi's eyes and rolled +from under his crisp mustache as he repeated the outbreak +to me. What the end might be neither the +Giudecca nor San Giuseppe could decide. The Borodinis +were proud; Vittorio's father was one of the +gondoliers belonging to the palace and always rowed +the good Queen Margherita when she came incognito +to Venice,--a post which greatly enhanced his social +station. Vittorio was the only son, and already a +member of the traghetto, young as he was. But +then, were there any girls better than Loretta, or as +good? She helped her mother; she paid her share +of the rent to Francesco's father; she gave to the poor +box. That she was the sunshine of the Quarter every +one knew who heard her sweet, cheery voice. As to +her family, it was true that her mother was a Sicilian +who boiled over sometimes in a tempest of rage, like +Vesuvius,--but her father had been one of them. +And then again, was she not the chosen friend of +Luigi, the Primo, and of the crazy painter who +haunted the canal? The boy and his father might +be glad, etc., etc. + +The only persons who were oblivious to the talk +were the two lovers. Their minds were made up. +Father Garola had promised, and they knew exactly +what to do, and when and where to do it. In the +meantime the Riva was a pathway of rose-tinted +clouds constructed for the especial use of two angels, +one of whom wore a straw hat with a red ribbon +canted over his sunburnt face, and the other a black +shawl with silken fringe, whose every movement suggested +a caress. + +The one disgruntled person was Francesco. + +He had supposed at first that, like the others, Vittorio +would find out his mistake;--certainly when he +looked closely into the pure eyes of the girl, and that +then, like the others, he would give up the chase;-- +he not being the first gay Lothario who had been +taught just such a lesson. + +Loretta's answer to the schemer, given with a toss +of her head and a curl of her lips, closed Francesco's +mouth and set his brain in a whirl. In his astonishment +he had long talks with his father, the two +seated in their boat against the Garden wall so no +one could overhear. + +Once he approached Luigi and began a tale, first +about Vittorio and his escapades and then about +Loretta and her coquetry, which Luigi strangled with +a look, and which he did not discuss or repeat to +me, except to remark--"They have started in to +bite, Signore," the meaning of which I could but +guess at. At another time he and his associates concocted +a scheme by which Vittorio's foot was to slip +as he was leaving Loretta at the door, and he be fished +out of the canal with his pretty clothes begrimed with +mud;--a scheme which was checked when they began +to examine the young gondolier the closer, and which +was entirely abandoned when they learned that his +father was often employed about the palace of the +king. In these projected attacks, strange to say, the +girl's mother took part. Her hope in keeping her +home was in Loretta's marrying Francesco. + +Then, dog as he was, he tried the other plan--all +this I got from Luigi, he sitting beside me, sharpening +charcoal points, handing me a fresh brush, squeezing +out a tube of color on my palette: nothing like a +romance to a staid old painter; and then, were not +both of us in the conspiracy as abettors, and up to +our eyes in the plot? + +This other plan was to traduce the girl. So the +gondoliers on the traghetto began to talk,--behind +their hands, at first: She had lived in Francesco's +house; she had had a dozen young fishermen trapesing +after her; her mother, too, was none too good. +Then again, you could never trust these Neapolitans, +--the kitten might be like the cat, etc., etc. + +Still the lovers floated up and down the Riva, +their feet on clouds, their heads in the heavens. +Never a day did he miss, and always with a wave +of her hand to me as they passed: down to Malamocco +on Sundays with another girl as chaperon, or over to +Mestre by boat for the festa, coming home in the +moonlight, the tip of his cigarette alone lighting her +face. + +One morning--the lovers had only been waiting +for their month's pay--Luigi came sailing down the +canal to my lodgings, his gondola in gala attire,-- +bunches of flowers tied at each corner of the tenda; +a mass of blossoms in the lamp socket; he himself +in his best white suit, a new red sash around his +waist--his own colors--and off we went to San +Rosario up the Giudecca. And the Borodinis turned +out in great force, and so did all the other 'inis, and +'olas, and 'ninos--dozens of them--and in came +Loretta, so beautiful that everybody held his breath; +and we all gathered about the altar, and good +Father Garola stepped down and took their hands; +and two candles were lighted and a little bell rang; +and then somebody signed a book--somebody with +the bearing of a prince--Borodini, I think--and then +Luigi, his rich, sunburned face and throat in contrast +with his white shirt, moved up and affixed his name +to the register; and then a door opened on the side +and they all went out into the sunlight. + +I followed and watched the gay procession on its +way to the waiting boats. As I neared the corner of +the church a heavily-built young fellow ran past me, +crouched to the pavement, and hid himself behind one +of the tall columns. Something in his dress and +movement made me stop. Not being sure, I edged +nearer and waited until he turned his head. It was +Francesco. + + + + +III + + + +The skies were never more beautiful that May, the +blossoms of the oleanders and the almond trees never +more lovely. Not only was my own canal alive with +the stir and fragrance of the coming summer, but all +Venice bore the look of a bride who had risen from +her bath, drawn aside the misty curtain of the morning, +and stood revealed in all her loveliness. + +The sun shone everywhere, I say, but to me its +brightest rays fell on a garden full of fig trees and +flat arbors interwoven with grapevines, running down +to the water where there was a dock and a gondola-- +two, sometimes,--our own and Vittorio's--and particularly +on a low, two-story, flat-roofed house,--a +kaleidoscope of color--pink, yellow, and green, with +three rooms and a portico, in which lived Vittorio, a +bird in a cage, a kitten-cat and the Rose of the Shipyards. + +It is a long way round to my canal through San +Trovaso to the Zattere and across the Giudecca to +Ponte Lungo, and then along the edge of the lagoon +to this garden and dovecote, but that is the precise +route Luigi, who lived within a stone's throw of the +couple, selected morning after morning. He always +had an excuse:--he had forgotten the big bucket for +my water cups, or the sail, or the extra chair; and +would the Signore mind going back for his other oar? +Then again the tide was bad, and after all we might +as well row down the lagoon; it was easier and really +shorter with the wind against us--all nonsense, of +course, but I never objected. + +"Ah, the Signore and dear Luigi!" she would +cry when she caught sight of our gondola rounding +into the landing. Then down the path she would +skip, the joyous embodiment of beauty and grace, +and help me out, Luigi following; and we would stroll +up under the fig trees, and she would begin showing +me this and that new piece of furniture, or pot, or +kettle, or new bread knife, or scissors, or spoon, which +Vittorio had added to their store since my last visit. +Or I would find them both busy over the gondola,-- +he polishing his brasses and ferro, and she rehanging +the curtains of the tenda which she had washed and +ironed with her own hands. + +In truth it was a very happy little nest that was +tucked away in one corner of that old abandoned +garden with its outlook on the broad water and its +connecting link with the row of neighbors' houses +flanking the side canal,--and no birds in or out of +any nest in all Venice ever sang so long and so +continuously nor were there any others so genuinely +happy the livelong day and night as these +two. + +Did I not know something of the curious mixture +of love, jealousy, and suspicion which goes into the +making-up of an Italian, it would be hard for me to +believe that so lovely a structure as this dovecote, one +built with so much hope and alight with so much real +happiness, could ever come tumbling to the ground. +We Anglo-Saxons flame up indignantly when those +we love are attacked, and we demand proofs. "Critica," +that bane of Venetian life--what this, that, or +the other neighbor tattles to this, that, and the other +listener, we dismiss with a wave of the hand, or with +fingers tight clenched close to the offender's lips, or +by a blow in the face. Not so the Italian. He +also blazes, but he will stop and wonder when his +anger has cooled; think of this and that; put two +and two together, and make ten of what is really +only four. This is what happened to the nest under +the grapevines. + +I was in my own garden at the Britannia leaning +over the marble balcony, wondering what kept +Luigi--it was past ten o'clock--when the news +reached me. I had caught sight of his white shirt +and straw hat as he swung out behind the Salute +and headed straight toward me, and saw from +the way he gripped his oar and stretched his long +body flat with the force of each thrust, that he +had a message of importance, even before I saw his +face. + +"A Dio, Signore!" he cried. "What do you think? +Vittorio has cursed Loretta, torn her wedding ring +from her finger, and thrown it in her face!" + +"Vittorio!" + +"Yes,--he will listen to nothing! He is a crazy +fool and I have done all I could. He believes every +one of the lies that crab-catching brute of a Francesco +is telling. It would be over by to-night, but Loretta +does not take it like the others: she says nothing. +You know her eyes--they are not like our Giudecca +girls. They are burning now like two coals of fire, +and her cheeks are like chalk." + +I had stepped into the gondola by this time, my +first thought being how best to straighten out the +quarrel. + +"Now tell me, Luigi--speak slowly, so I do not +miss a word. First, where is Loretta?" + +"She was putting on her best clothes when I left-- +those she bought herself. She will touch nothing Vittorio +gave her. She is going back to her mother in +an hour." + +"But what happened? Has Francesco--?" + +"Francesco has not stopped one minute since the +wedding. He has been talking to the fish-people,-- +to everybody on the side street, saying that Loretta +was his old shoes that he left at his door, and the +fool Vittorio found them and put them on--that +sort of talk." + +"And Vittorio believes it?" + +"He did not at first,--but twice Francesco came +to see Loretta with messages from her mother, and +went sneaking off when Vittorio came up in his boat, +and then that night some one would tell him--'that +fellow meets Loretta every day;' that he was her old +lover. These people on the Giudecca do not like +the San Giuseppe people, and there is always jealousy. +If Vittorio had married any one from his own quarter +it would have been different. You don't know +these people, Signore,--how devilish they can be +and how stupid." + +"That was why he threw the ring in her face?" + +"No and yes. Yesterday was Sunday, and some +people came to see her from San Giuseppe, and they +began to talk. I was not there; I did not get there +until it was all over, but my wife heard it. They +were all in the garden, and one word led to another, +and he taunted her with seeing Francesco, and she +laughed, and that made him furious; and then he +said he had heard her mother was a nobody; and then +some one spoke up and said that was true--fools all. +And then Loretta, she drew herself up straight and +asked who it was had said so, and a woman's voice +came--'Francesco,--he told me--' and then Vittorio +cried--'And you meet him here. Don't deny +it! And you love him, too!--' and then the fool +sprang at her and caught her hand and tore the +ring from her finger and spat on it and threw it on +the ground. He is now at his father's house." + +"And she said nothing, Luigi?" The story +seemed like some horrible dream. + +"No, nor shed a tear. All she did was to keep +repeating--'Francesco! Francesco! Francesco!' I +got there at daylight this morning and have been there +ever since. I told her I was coming for you. She +was sitting in a chair when I went in,--bolt up; +she had not been in her bed. She seems like one in +a trance--looked at me and held out her hand. I +tried to talk to her and tell her it was all a lie, +but she only answered--'Ask Francesco,--it is +all Francesco,--ask Francesco.' Hurry, Signore,-- +we will miss her if we go to her house. We will +go at once to our canal and wait for her. They have +heard nothing down there at San Giuseppe, and you +can talk to her without being interrupted, and then +I'll get hold of Vittorio. This way, Signore." + +I had hardly reached the water landing of my canal +ten minutes later when I caught sight of her, coming +directly toward me, head up, her lips tight-set, her +black shawl curving and floating with every movement +of her body--(nothing so wonderfully graceful and +nothing so expressive of the wearer's moods as these +black shawls of the Venetians). She wore her gala +dress--the one in which she was married--white +muslin with ribbons of scarlet, her wonderful hair +in a heap above her forehead, her long gold earrings +glinting in the sunshine. All the lovelight had died +out of her eyes. In its place were two deep hollows +rimmed about by dark lines, from out which flashed +two points of cold steel light. + +I sprang from my gondola and held out my hand: + +"Sit down, Loretta, and let me talk to you." + +She stopped, looked at me in a dazed sort of way, +as if she was trying to focus my face so as to recall +me to her memory, and said in a determined way: + +"No, let me pass. It's too late for all that, Signore. +I am--" + +"But wait until you hear me." + +"I will hear nothing until I find Francesco." + +"You must not go near him. Get into the gondola +and let Luigi and me take you home." + +A dry laugh rose to her lips. "Home! There +is no home any more. See! My ring is gone! Francesco +is the one I want--now---NOW! He knows I +am coming,--I sent him word. Don't hold me, Signore, +--don't touch me!" + +She was gone before I could stop her, her long, +striding walk increasing almost to a run, her black +shawl swaying about her limbs as she hurried toward +her old home at the end of the quay. Luigi started +after her, but I called him back. Nothing could be +done until her fury, or her agony, had spent itself. +These volcanoes are often short-lived. We looked +after her until she had reached the door and had +flung herself across the threshold. Then I sent Luigi +for my easel and began work. + +The events that have made the greatest impression +upon me all my life have been those which have +dropped out of the sky,--the unexpected, the incomprehensible, +--the unnecessary--the fool things--the +damnably idiotic things. + +First we heard a cry that caused Luigi to drop +canvas and easel, and sent us both flying down the +quay toward the rookery. It came from Loretta's +mother;--she was out on the sidewalk tearing her +hair; calling on God; uttering shriek after shriek. +The quay and bridge were a mass of people--some +looking with staring eyes, the children hugging their +mothers' skirts. Two brawny fishermen were clearing +the way to the door. Luigi and I sprang in +behind them, and entered the house. + +On the stone floor of the room lay the body +of Francesco, his head stretched back, one hand +clutching the bosom of his shirt. Against the wall +stood Loretta; not a quiver on her lips; ghastly +white; calm,--the least excited person in the +room. + +"And you killed him!" I cried. + +"Yes,--he thought I came to kiss him--I did, +WITH THIS!" and she tossed a knife on the table. + +The days that followed were gray days for Luigi +and me. All the light and loveliness were gone from. +my canal. + +They took Loretta to the prison next the Bridge of +Sighs and locked her up in one of the mouldy cells +below the water line--dark, dismal pockets where, in +the old days, men died of terror. + +Vittorio, Luigi, and I met there the next morning. +I knew the chief officer, and he had promised me +an interview. Vittorio was crying,--rubbing his +knuckles in his eyes,--utterly broken up and exhausted. +He and Luigi had spent the night together. +An hour before, the two had stood at Francesco's bedside +in the hospital of San Paulo. Francesco was still +alive, and with Father Garola bending over him had +repeated his confession to them both. He was madly +in love with her, he moaned, and had spread the +report hoping that Vittorio would cast her off, and, +having no other place to go, Loretta would come back +to him. At this Vittorio broke into a rage and would +have strangled the dying man had not the attendant +interfered. All this I learned from Luigi as we +waited for the official. + +"This is a frightful ending to a happy life--" I +began when the officer appeared. "Let them talk +to each other for just a few moments. It can do no +harm." + +The official shook his head. "It is against orders, +Signore, I cannot. He can see her when she is +brought up for examination." + +"They will both have lost their senses by that +time," I pleaded. "Can't you think of some way? I +have known her from a child. Perhaps an order from +headquarters might be of some use." We were standing, +at the time, in a long corridor ending in a door +protected by an iron grating. This led to the underground +cells. + +The chief fastened his eyes on me for an instant, +turned abruptly, called to an attendant, gave an order +in a low voice and, with the words to Vittorio-- +"You are not to speak to her, remember," motioned +the sobbing man toward the grating. Luigi and I +followed. + +She came slowly out of the shadows, first the +drawn face peering ahead, as if wondering why she +had been sent for, then the white crumpled dress, +and then the dark eyes searching the gloom of the +corridor. Vittorio had caught sight of her and was +clinging to the grating, his body shaking, his tears +blinding him. + +The girl gave a half-smothered cry, darted forward +and covered Vittorio's hands with her own. Some +whispered word must have followed, for the old light +broke over her face and she would have cried out for +joy had not Luigi cautioned her. For a moment the +two stood with fingers intertwined, their bowed foreheads +kept apart by the cold grating. Then the boy, +straining his face between the bars, as if to reach her +lips, loosened one hand, took something from his +pocket and slipped it over her finger. + +It was her wedding ring. + + + + +IV + + + +Summer has faded, the gold of autumn has turned +to brown, and the raw, cold winds of winter have +whirled the dead leaves over rookeries, quay, and +garden. The boats rock at their tethers and now and +then a sea gull darts through the canal and sweeps on +to the lagoon. In the narrow opening fronting the +broad waters lawless waves quarrel and clash, forcing +their way among the frightened ripples of San Giuseppe, +ashy gray under the lowering sky. + +All these months a girl has clung to an iron grating +or has lain on a pallet in one corner of her cell. +Once in a while she presses her lips to a ring on her +left hand, her face lighting up. Sometimes she +breaks out into a song, continuing until the keeper +checks her. + +Then spring comes. + +And with it the painter from over the sea. + +All the way from Milan as far as Verona, and +beyond, there have been nothing but blossoms,-- +masses of blossoms,--oleander, peach, and almond. + +When the train reaches Mestre and the cool salt air +fans his cheek, he can no longer keep his seat, so eager +is he to catch the first glimpse of his beloved city,-- +now a string of pearls on the bosom of the lagoon. + +Luigi has the painter's hand before his feet can +touch the platform. + +"Good news, Signore!" he laughs, patting my +shoulder. "She is free!" + +"Loretta!" + +"Yes,--she and Vittorio are back in their garden. +Borodini told the whole story to the good Queen +Mother when she came at Easter, and the king pardoned +her." + +"Pardoned her! And Francesco dead!" + +"Dead! No such good luck, Signore,--that brute +of a crab-fisher got well!" + + + + +A COAT OF RED LEAD + + + +I + + + +My offices are on the top floor of a high building +overlooking the East River and the harbor beyond-- +not one of those skyscrapers punctured with windows +all of the same size, looking from a distance like huge +waffles set up on end--note the water-line of New +York the next time you cross the ferry and see if +you don't find the waffles--but an old-fashioned sort +of a high building of twenty years ago--old as the +Pyramids now, with a friendly janitor who comes to +me when I send for him instead of my going to his +"Office" when he sends for me; friendly elevator +boys who poke their heads from out their iron cages +and wait five seconds until I reach them, and an +obliging landlord who lets me use his telephone. + +Mawkum, my chief draftsman--when you have +only one it is best to label him "Chief" to your +clients; they think the others are off building bridges +for foreign governments, or lunching at Delmonico's +with railroad presidents--my chief draftsman, I say, +occupies the room opening into mine. His outlook +is a brick wall decorated with windows, behind which +can be seen various clerks poring over huge ledgers, +a section of the roof topped with a chimney, and in +the blue perspective the square, squat tower of the +Produce Exchange in which hangs a clock. Both of +these connecting rooms open on the same corridor, a +convenient arrangement when clients wish to escape +without being seen, or for the concealing of bidders +who are getting plans and specifications for the same +tenders, especially when two of them happen to turn +up at the same moment. + +Mawkum manages this, and with such adroitness +that I have often seen clients, under the impression +that the drafting-room was full, sit patiently in my +office and take their turn while he quietly munches +his sandwich behind closed panels--an illusion sustained +by a loud "Good-morning" from my chief +addressed to the circumambient air, followed by the +slamming of the corridor door. When I remonstrate +with Mawkum, insisting that such subterfuges are +beneath the dignity of the office, he contends that they +help business, and in proof quotes the old story of +the unknown dentist who compelled a suffering prince +to call the next day at noon, claiming that his list +was full, when neither man, woman nor child had +been in his chair for over a week--fame and fortune +being his ever after. + +When Mawkum gets tired of inspecting the brick +wall and the industrious clerks and the face of the +clock, he strolls leisurely into my room, plants himself +at my window--this occurs during one of those calms +that so often come to an office between contracts--and +spends hours in contemplating the view. + +To me the stretch of sky and water, with its dividing +band of roof, tower and wharf, stretching from +the loop of steel--that spider-web of the mighty--to +the straight line of the sea, is a never-ending delight. +In the early morning its broken outline is softened +by a veil of silver mist embroidered with puffs +of steam; at midday the glare of light flashing from +the river's surface makes silhouettes of the ferry- +shuttles threading back and forth weaving the city's +life; at twilight the background of purple is bathed +in the glory of the sunset, while at night myriads of +fireflies swarm and settle, tracing in pencillings of +fire the plan of the distant town. + +Mawkum, being commercially disposed, sees none +of these things; his gaze is fixed on the panting tugs +towing chains of canal boats; on the great floats +loaded with cars and the stately steamers slowing +down opposite their docks. Today he develops an +especial interest. + +"That's the Tampico in from Caracas and the +Coast," he says, leaning across my desk, his fat +hand resting on my letter file. "She's loaded pretty +deep. Hides and tallow, I guess. 'Bout time we +heard from that Moccador Lighthouse, isn't it? Lawton's +last letter said we could look for his friend in +a month--about due now. Wish he'd come." And +he yawned wearily. + +Mawkum's yawn indicated the state of his mind. +He had spent the previous three weeks in elaborating +the plans and specifications for a caisson to be used +under a bridge pier--our client assuring him that +he had, to use his own words, "a dead sure thing on +the award." When the bids were opened, Mawkum +congratulated him on his foresight and offered to +attend the funeral in a body, the client's bid being +some thirty per cent too high. Little episodes like +this add a touch of gayety to the hours spent in the +top of the high building. + +Mawkum's yawn over--it is generally in three +sections, but can sometimes be curtailed--I interrupted +hurriedly with: + +"What sort of a structure is it?" I knew, but I +wanted some other employment for his mouth. + +"First order, screw pile, about a hundred and +twenty feet high, stuck on a coral reef at the mouth +of the harbor. 'Bout like our Fowey Rocks, off the +Florida coast. She's backing in." His eyes were +still on the Tampico, the floes of North River ice +hemming her in on all sides. "Passengers'll be off +in an hour. Wonder how they like our climate-- +little chilly for pajamas." + +Here Mawkum strolled into his room and began +overhauling the contents of a rack of drawings piled +one on top of the other like cordwood, labelled: +"Screw Pile Structures." + +The next morning there came a timid knock at +Mawkum's door--the knock of a child with matches +to sell, or of one of those dear sisters who collect +for the poor. At a second summons, a little louder +than the first, the chief, with an impatient air, slid +from the high stool facing his drawing board, and +threw wide the door. + +I craned my head and discovered a small, ivory- +tinted individual in a Panama hat, duck trousers and +patent-leather shoes. Wrapped about his shrivelled +frame, one red-lined end tossed gallantly over his +shoulder, was an enormous Spanish capa. This hid +every part of his body from his chin to the knees of +his cotton ducks. From where I sat he looked like +a conspirator in the play, or the assassin who lies in +wait up the dark alley. Once inside he wrinkled his +shoulders with the shivering movement of a horse +dislocating a fly, dropped the red-lined end of the +capa, removed his Panama and began a series of genuflections +which showed me at once that he had been +born among a people who imbibed courtesy with their +mother's, or their cocoanut's, milk. + +"I am look' for the Grandioso Engineer," said the +visitor. "I am Senor Garlicho--" Then a shade +of uncertainty crossed his face: Mawkum was still +staring at him. "It is a mistake then, perhaps? I +have a letter from Senor Law-TON. Is it not to the +great designer of lighthouse which I speak?" This +came with more bows--one almost to the floor. + +The mention of Lawton's name brought Mawkum +to his senses. He placed his fat hand on his vest, +crooked his back, and without the slightest allusion +to the fact that the original and only Grandioso occupied +the adjoining room, motioned the visitor to a +seat and opened the letter. + +I thought now it was about time I should assert +my rights. Pushing back my chair, I walked rapidly +through my own and Mawkum's room and held out +my hand. + +"Ah, Senor, I am delighted to meet you," I broke +out in Spanish. (Here I had Mawkum--he did not +understand a word.) "We have been expecting you; +our mutual friend, Mr. Lawton, has given me notice +of your coming--and how is the Senor and his +family?" And in a few minutes we three were +seated at my desk with Mawkum unrolling plans, +making sketches on a pad, figuring the cost of this +and that and the other thing; I translating for Mawkum +such statements as I thought he ought to know, +thus restoring the discipline and dignity of the office +--it never being wise to have more than one head to a +concern. + +This partial victory was made complete when his +ivory-tinted Excellency loosened his waistcoat, dived +into his inside pocket and, producing a package of letters +tied with a string, the envelopes emblazoned with +the arms and seal of the Republic of Moccador, asked +if we might be alone. I immediately answered, both +in Spanish and English, that I had no secrets from +Senor Mawkum, but this did not prove satisfactory +and so Mawkum, with a wink to me, withdrew. + +Mawkum gone, the little man--it is inconceivable +how small and withered he was; how yellow, how +spidery in many of his motions, especially with his +fingers stained with cigarettes, how punctilious, how +polite, how soft and insinuating his voice, and how +treacherous his smile--a smile that smiled all alone +by itself, while the cunning, glittering eyes recorded +an entirely different brain suggestion--Mawkum +gone, I say, the little man examined the door to see +that it was tight shut, glanced furtively about the +room, resumed his seat, slowly opened the largest +and most flaringly decorated envelope and produced +a document signed with a name and titles that covered +half the page. Then he began to talk at the rate of +fifty words to the second; like the rattle of a ticker +in a panic: of Alvarez, the saviour of his country-- +his friend!--his partner; of the future of Moccador +under his wise and beneficent influence, the Lighthouse +being one of the first improvements; of its being +given to him to erect because of his loyalty to the +cause, and to the part he had taken in overturning +that despot, the Tyrant Paramba, who had ruled +the republic with a rod of iron. Now it was all over +--Paramba was living in the swamps, hunted like +a dog. When he was caught--and they expected it +every day--he would be brought to the capital, San +Juan, in chains--yes, Senor, in chains--and put to +work on the roads, so that everybody could spit upon +him--traitor! Beast, that he was! And there would +be other lighthouses--the whole coast was to be as +light as day. Senor Law-TON had said he could speak +with perfect confidence--he was doing so, trusting +to the honor of the Grandiose--the most distinguished +--etc., etc. And now--this in a summing-up voice +with a slower movement, about twenty words to the +second--would the Grandioso go in as a partner in +these ventures? The income he could assure me +would be so fixed that the light dues alone would pay +for the structure in two years--think of it, Senor, +in two years--perhaps less!--and forever after we +could both sit down and receive a small fortune, I +by the Tampico in drafts signed by his Excellency, +and he in his own hacienda surrounded by the patriots +who honored him and the wife and children he +adored. + +At mention of the partnership a vague, cloudy +expression crossed my face; my companion caught +it, and continued: + +Or (again the voice slowed down) I would be paid +for the structure on its erection by me on the reef. + +Again my eyes wandered, and again he took the +cue: + +Or--if that was not satisfactory--he would be +willing to pay for the ironwork alone as soon as it +arrived in the harbor of San Juan. + +My Spanish is more like an old uniform that is +rubbed up for a parade and then put away in camphor. +Much of his talk was therefore lost on me; but +the last sentences were as clear as if they had dropped +from the lips of my old teacher, Senor Morales. + +Half-rising from my chair, I placed my hand over +my shirt-front and thanked his Excellency for his +confidence--really one of the greatest compliments +that had ever been paid me in all my professional +career. To be at once the partner of two such distinguished +caballeros as General Alvarez, the saviour +of his country, and my distinguished guest, was an +honor that few men could resist, but--BUT--here I +picked up a lead pencil and a pad--BUT--the only +way I could permit myself to rob him of his just +desserts would be--here I traced a few lines on the +pad--would be--my voice now became impressive-- +to receive one-third when it was erected in the yard +in Brooklyn, and the balance on delivery of the bills +of lading to his agent; payments to be made by his +distinguished Excellency's bankers in New York. + +If the modification of terms in any way disappointed +the gentleman from San Juan, my closest +observation of his smile and glance failed to detect +it. He merely quivered his shoulders--a sort of +plural shrug--rolled his cigarette tighter between +his thumb and forefinger, remarked that the memoranda +were entirely satisfactory, and folding the +paper slid it carefully into his pocket; then with a +series of salaams that reminded me of a Mohammedan +spreading a prayer rug, and an "A Dios, +Senor," the ivory-tinted individual withdrew. + +A week later Mawkum, carrying a tin case addressed +to his sun-dried Excellency, passed up the +gangplank of the Tampico; this he placed in that +gentleman's hands. Inside its soldered top were +the plans and specifications of a First Order Light, +to be made of iron, to be properly packed, and +to have three coats of red lead before shipment--together +with a cross-section of foundation to be placed +on the reef known as "La Garra de Lobo"--The +Claw of the Wolf--outside the harbor of San Juan-- +all at the risk of his Supreme Excellency, Senor +Tomas Correntes Garlicho, of the Republic of Moccador, +South America--the price of the ironwork to +hold good for three months. + +On his return to the office Mawkum took up his +position once more at my window, waited until the +Tampico, the case and his Excellency were well on +their way to Sandy Hook and started in on other +work. The next day the incident, like so many similar +ventures--his racks were full of just such estimates +--was forgotten. If any of the bread thus cast +upon the waters came back, the chief would be glad, +and so would the Grandioso; if not, we were both +willing to cut a fresh slice to keep it company. + + + + +II + + + +Four months passed. The ice was out of the river; +the steam heat had been turned off in the high building +and the two time-worn awnings had been fixed to +my windows by the obliging janitor. The Tampico +had come and gone, and had come again. Its arrivals, +and departures were, as usual, always commented +upon by Mawkum, generally in connection with +"That Bunch of Dried Garlic," that being the irreverent +way in which he spoke of his ivory-tinted Excellency. +Otherwise the lighthouse, and all that pertained +to it, had become ancient history. + +One lovely spring morning--one of those warm +mornings when every window and door is wide open +to get the breeze from Sandy Hook and beyond-- +another visitor stepped into Mawkum's room. He +brought no letters of introduction, nor did he confine +himself to his mother tongue, although his nationality +was as apparent as that of his predecessor. Neither +did he possess a trace of Garlicho's affability or +polish. On the contrary, he conducted himself like +a muleteer, and spoke with the same sort of brutal +authority. + +And the differences did not stop here. Garlicho +was shrivelled and sun-dried. This man was round +and plump--plump as a stuffed olive fished from a +jar of oil, and as shiny; dark-skinned, with a pair of +heavy eyebrows that met over a stub of a nose ending +in a knob; two keen rat eyes, a mouth hidden by a +lump of a mustache black as tar, and a sagging, +flabby chin which slunk into his collar. Next came +a shirt-front soiled and crumpled, and then the rest +of him in a suit of bombazine. + +"You designed a lighthouse some months ago for +Mr. Garlicho, of San Juan," he blurted out with +hardly an accent. "I arrived this morning by the +Tampico. My name is Carlos Onativia." And he +laid a thin, elongated piece of cardboard on Mawkum's +desk. + +Only the arrival of a South American fresh from +the Republic of Moccador, with a spade designed to +dig up a long-buried treasure could have robbed +Mawkum of his habitual caution of always guarding +plans and estimates from outsiders--a custom which +was really one of the fundamental laws of the office. +The indiscretion was no doubt helped by the discovery +that the owner of the spade spoke English, a +fact which freed him at once of all dependence on +the superior lingual attainments possessed by the +Grandioso in the adjoining room. + +Down came the duplicate blue-prints without a +word of protest or any further inquiry, and before I +could reach the inquirer's side and be properly introduced +--I did not want to interfere too abruptly-- +Mawkum had not only unrolled the elevation and +cross-sections, but had handed out a memorandum +showing the estimate of cost. + +Onativia acknowledged my presence with a slight +bob of his head, loosened the upper button of his +coat, fished up a pair of glasses, stuck them on the +knob end of his nose, and began devouring the plans +in a way that showed both of us that it was not the +first time he had looked over a set of blue-prints. + +"This estimate is for the ironwork alone," the +stranger said, "and is, as you see, good for three +months. The time, as you will note, has expired. Do +you now ask for an additional sum, or will the price +stand?" All this in the tone of a Tombs lawyer +cross-examining a witness. + +Mawkum murmured that, as there had been no +advance in the cost of the raw material, the price +would stand. + +"Very well. And now, what, in your judgment, +should be added for the cost of erection?" + +"Can't say," answered Mawkum; "don't know the +coast or kind of labor, or the bottom of the reef-- +may be coral, may be hard-pan, may be sand. Do YOU +know?" + +"Yes--the coast is an ugly one, except four +months in the year. Site is twelve miles from San +Juan, exposed to the rake of the sea; bottom coral, +I understand; labor cheap and good for nothing, +and appliances none--except what can be shipped +from here." This came with the air of one who +knew. + +I now took charge of the negotiations: + +"We have refused to erect the structure or be +responsible for it after it leaves our dock. We told +Senor Garlicho so." + +Onativia lowered his chin, arched his eyebrows +and looked at me over his glasses. + +"I don't want you to erect it," he said in a purring +tone with a patronizing strain through it. "I'll do +that. What I want to know is what it would cost +HERE? That's what I came to New York to find out." + +"Has Senor Garlicho been awarded the contract?" +I asked. It was useless to distribute any more bread +upon the waters; certainly not on the ripples washing +the shores of Moccador. If there were any business +in sight I could very easily give either one of them +an approximate cost; if there were none the bakery +was closed. + +"No, Senor Garlicho has NOT been awarded the +contract. I am here to keep the affair alive. If I +had thought it necessary I would have brought a +certified check with me drawn to your order, which +I would have handed you with my card. The standing +of your firm prevented my doing so. This is +business, and I want to get back home as quick as +possible. Our coast is a dangerous one and the loss +of life increases every year. Do you want this matter +hung up for six weeks until we can communicate with +Mr. Garlicho? Every hour's delay in putting the +light on the Lobo means that many more deaths." As +he spoke a peculiar smile struggled from under his +black dab of a mustache, got as far as the base of his +nose and there collapsed. + +My duty was now clear. Senor Garlicho, for some +reason unknown to me, had waited until his option +had expired and had then sent Onativia in his place. +This wiped out the past and made a new deal necessary +--one which included the price of erection on +the reef, a point which had not been raised in the +former negotiation. + +"All right," I said, "you shall have the estimate. +What you want is the cost of erecting a structure like +the one here in the plans. Well, if it was to be put +on our Florida coast, where I think the conditions +are somewhat similar to those you describe, I would +advise you to add about one hundred thousand dollars +to the cost of the ironwork." + +"Is that safe?" Again the smile worked itself +loose. + +"Yes," I replied, "if you don't lose your plant too +often by bad weather. We have warnings of our coast +storms and can provide against them. I don't know +anything about yours--what are they like?" + +"They come suddenly and without warning," he +rejoined; "typhoons, generally, with the tiles rattling +off the roofs and the natives hugging the cocoanut +trees." With this he turned to the plans again. +"Better add another twenty thousand--I want to be +safe," he said, in a tone that showed me he had at +last made up his mind. + +I added it, marking the sum on the memorandum +which Mawkum had given him. + +"Now, please put that in writing over your signature. +I'll call to-morrow at ten for the document. +Good-day." + +When he was well down the corridor--we waited +really until we heard the down-chug of the elevator-- +Mawkum looked at me and gave a low whistle. + +"Add another twenty! What do you think is up? +That Bunch of Garlic is working some funny business, +or he wouldn't have sent that brigand up here." + +I ruminated for a moment, walked to the window +and took in the brick wall, the clerks and the clock +tower. Frankly, I did not know what Garlicho was +up to. It was the first time that any passenger by +the Tampico, or any other steamer, from any quarter +of the globe, had asked either Mawkum or myself to +add one penny to the cost of anything. The effort +heretofore had been to cut down each item to the last +cent. Was the ivory-tinted gentleman going to build +the lighthouse at his own expense out of loyalty to +President Alvarez, the saviour of his country, and +then donate it to the Government, using our estimate +to prove the extent of his generosity? Or was there +a trick somewhere? I decided to sound Senor Onativia +the next morning, and find out. + +I had not long to wait. He arrived on the minute, +bobbed to Mawkum, drew a chair to my desk and +squared, or rather rounded, his body in front of me. + +"I will now tell you what I omitted to say yesterday," +he began. "When an order comes for this +lighthouse--and it will arrive by the next steamer-- +it will not be signed by Senor Garlicho, but by me. +I have reasons for this which I cannot explain, and +which are not necessary for you to know. The ironwork +--all you will have to furnish--will also be +shipped in my name. With the order will be sent a +letter introducing my bankers, who will call upon +you at your convenience, and who will pay the +amounts in the way you desire--one-third on the +signing of the contract (one of the firm will act as +my agent), one-third on erection and inspection of +the ironwork properly put together in the yard, and +the balance on delivery to them of the bills of lading. +Is that quite satisfactory?" + +I bowed my head in answer. + +"And have you signed your estimate showing what +you consider to be a fair price for both the lighthouse +itself and for the cost of its erection on the Lobo +Reef?" + +"Yes; there it is," and I pointed to the document +lying on my desk. "And now one word, please. +When did you last see Mr. Lawton? He's our agent, +you know, and you must have met him in connection +with this matter. When Senor Garlicho arrived he +brought us a letter from him." + +Onativia's lips curled slightly as he recognized the +hidden meaning of the inquiry, but his expression +never changed. + +"I have never seen him. If I had I should not +have wasted my time in getting a letter from him +or from anybody else. As to Senor Garlicho, his +time has expired; he has not asked for its renewal, +and so far as this deal is concerned he does not count. +I am here, as I told you, to keep the affair alive. I +would have come sooner, but I have been away from +the city of San Juan for months. Most of us who +have opinions of our own have been away from San +Juan--some for years. San Juan has not been a +healthy place for men who believe in Paramba." + +"And do you?" + +"Absolutely. So do thousands of our citizens." + +"You don't seem to agree with Senor Garlicho, +then. He thought your former president, Paramba, +a tyrant. As for President Alvarez, he looked upon +him as the saviour of his country." + +The lips had full play now, the smile of contempt +wrinkling up to his eyelids. + +"Saviour of his country! Saviour of his pocket! +Pardon me; I am not here to discuss the polities of +our people. Is this your estimate?" And he reached +over and picked it from my desk. "Ah, yes: forty +thousand dollars for the ironwork; one hundred and +twenty thousand for the erection on the Lobo Reef; +one hundred and sixty thousand in all. Thank you." +Here he tucked the paper in his pocket and rose from +his seat. "You will hear from me in a month, perhaps +earlier. Good-day." And he waddled out. + +The return of the Tampico six weeks later brought +another South American consignment. This was a +roll of plans concealed in a tin case--the identical +package which Mawkum had handed the "Bunch +of Dried Garlic" months before, together with a +document stamped, restamped and stamped again, +containing an order in due form, signed "Carlos +Onativia," for a lighthouse to be erected on the +"Garra de Lobo"--this last was in red ink--with +shipping directions, etc., etc. + +With it came the clerk of the bankers (he had the +case under his arm), a reputable concern within a +stone's throw of my office, who signed the contract +and paid the first instalment. + +Then followed the erection of the ironwork in the +Brooklyn yard; its inspection by the engineer appointed +by the bankers; its dismemberment and final +coat of red lead--each tie-rod and beam red as sticks +of sealing-wax--its delivery, properly bundled and +packed, aboard a sailing vessel bound for San Juan, +and the payment of the last instalment. + +This closed the transaction, so far as we were +concerned. + +A year passed--two of them, in fact--during +which time no news of any kind reached us of the +lighthouse. Mawkum kept the duplicate blue-print of +the elevation tacked on the wall over his desk to show +our clients the wide range of our business, and I would +now and then try to translate the newspapers which +Lawton sent by every mail. These would generally +refer to the dissatisfaction felt by many of the Moccadorians +over the present government, one editorial, +as near as I could make out, going so far as to hint +that a secret movement was on foot to oust the +"Usurper" Alvarez and restore the old government +under Paramba. No reference was ever made to the +lighthouse. We knew, of course, that it had arrived, +for the freight had been paid: this we learned from +the brokers who shipped it; but whether it was still +in storage at San Juan or was flashing red and white +--a credit to Onativia's energy and a godsend to incoming +shipping--was still a mystery. + +Mawkum would often laugh whenever Garlicho's +or Onativia's name was mentioned, and once in a +while we would discuss the difficulties they must have +encountered in the erection of the structure in the +open sea. One part of the transaction we could never +understand, and that was why Garlicho had allowed +the matter to lapse if the lighthouse was needed so +badly, and what were his reasons for sending Onativia +to renew the negotiations instead of coming +himself. + +All doubts on this and every other point were set +at rest one fine morning by the arrival of a sunburned +gentleman with gray side-whiskers, a man I had not +seen for years. + +"Why, Lawton!" I cried, grasping his hand. +"This is a surprise. Came by the Tampico, did you? +Oh, but I am glad to see you! Here, draw up a chair. +But stop--not a word until I ask you some questions +about that lighthouse." + +The genial Scotchman broke out into a loud +laugh. + +"Don't laugh! Listen!" I said to him. "Tell +me, why didn't Garlicho go on with the work, and +what do you know about Onativia?" + +Lawton leaned back in his chair and closed one eye +in merriment. + +"Garlicho did not go on with the work, my dear +friend, because he was breaking stone in the streets +of San Juan with a ball and chain around his ankle. +When Paramba came back to power he was tried for +high treason and condemned to be shot. He saved +his neck by turning over the lighthouse papers to +Onativia. As to Carlos Onativia, he is a product of +the soil. Started life as a coolie boss in a copper +mine, became manager and owner, built the bridge +over the Quitos River and the railroad up the +Andes; is the brightest man in Moccador and the +brains of the Paramba Government. One part of his +duty is to keep the people satisfied, and he does it +every single time; another is to divide with Paramba +every dollar he makes." + +"But the lighthouse!" I interrupted. "Is it up? +You must have passed it on your way out of the +harbor." + +"Up? Yes, and lighted every night--up in the +public garden in San Juan among the palms and +bananas. The people eat ice-cream on the first platform +and the band plays Sundays in the balcony +under the boat davits. The people are wild about it-- +especially the women. It was the last coat of red +lead that did it." + +And again the office rang with Lawton's laugh. + + + + +MISS MURDOCK,--"SPECIAL" + + + +A row of gas jets hooded by green paper shades +lighting a long table at which sit half a dozen men in +their shirt sleeves writing like mad; against the wall +other men,--one drawing Easter lilies, another blocking +in the background around a photograph, a third +pasting clippings on sheets of brown paper. Every +few minutes a bare-headed boy in a dirty apron, with +smudged face and ink-stained fingers, bounds into +the stifling, smoke-laden room, skirts the long table, +dives through a door labelled "City Editor," remains +an instant and bounds out again, his hands +filled with long streamers of proof. + +In the opening and shutting of the swinging door +a round-bodied, round-headed man in his shirt +sleeves comes into view. Covering his forehead, +shielding his eyes from the glare of the overhead +gas jet, is a half-moon of green leather held in place +by strings tied behind his ears. The line of shadow +caused by this shade makes a blank space about his +eyes and brings into relief his pale, flabby cheeks, +hard, straight mouth, and coarse chin. Only when he +lifts his head to give some order, or holds the receiver +of the telephone to his ear, can his eyes be exactly +located. Then they shine like a cat's in a cellar,-- +gray, white, gray again, with a glint of metallic +green,--always the same distance apart, never wavering, +never blinking. Overstrung, overworked, nervous +men, working at high pressure, spurred by the +merciless lash of passing minutes, have these eyes. +So do cornered beasts fighting for air and space. +Eleven-thirty had just been tolled by the neighboring +clock; deliverance would come when the last form +of the morning edition was made up. Until then +safety could only be found in constant attack. + +Outside the city editor's office, sprawled over a +pile of mail sacks, between the long table and the +swinging door, lay Joe Quinn, man-of-all-work,--boy, +in fact, for he was but nineteen, big for his age, with +arms and legs like cordwood and a back straight and +hard as a plank. Joe's duty was to keep his eyes +peeled, his ears open, and his legs in working order. +If a reporter wanted a fresh pad, a cup of water, or a +file of papers, Joe brought them; sometimes he +foraged for sandwiches and beer,--down four pair +of stairs, across the street into a cellar and up again; +sometimes he carried messages; oftener he made an +elevator of himself, running between the presses in +the basement and the desk behind the swinging door. +Fifty trips in a single night had not been an unusual +tally. + +To the inmates of the room the boy was known as +"Joe" or "Quinn" or "Sonny." To the man with +the half-moon shade over his eyes he was "Say" or +"That Damned Kid." High-strung, high-pressure +editors omit the unnecessary, condensation being part +of their creed. + +Up in the Franconia Notch, in a little hollow under +White Face and below Bog Eddy, Joe had been +known as "Jonathan's boy," Jonathan being the +name his father went by, the last half never being +used,--there being but one "Jonathan"--the one +whom everybody loved. + +The cabin was still standing, where Joe was born, +--a slant of logs with a stone chimney and some out- +buildings; and his old father was still alive, and so +was his mother and his little "Sis." Summer mornings +the smoke would curl straight up from the rude +stone chimney, catch a current of air from the valley, +and stretch its blue arms toward the tall hemlocks +covering the slope of the mountain. Winter mornings +it lay flat, buffeted by the winds, hiding itself +later on among the trees. Joe knew these hemlocks, +--loved them,--had hugged them many a time, laying +his plump, ruddy cheek against the patches of cool +moss velveting their sides. "Nothin' like trees," his +old father had told him,--"real human when ye +know 'em." + +To-night, as he lay stretched out on the mail sacks, +his ears unlatched, listening for the sound of the +night city editor's bell, or his gruff "Say, you!" his +mind kept reverting to their bigness and wide, all +embracing, protecting arms. A letter from Jonathan +received that morning, and still tucked away in his +inside pocket, had revived these memories. + +"They've started to cut roads, son," it read. "I +was out gummin' yesterday and got up under White +Face. Won't be nothing left if they keep on. Cy +Hawkins sold his timber land to them last winter +and they've histed up a biler on wheels and a succular +saw, and hev cleared off purty nigh every tree clean +from the big windslash down to the East Branch. It +ain't going into building stuff; they're sending it +down to Plymouth to a pulp mill and grinding it up +to print newspapers on, so the head man told me. +Guess you know all about it, but it was news to me. +I told him it was a gol-darn-shame to serve a tree so, +being as how trees had feelings same as men, but he +laughed and said it warn't none of my bizness, and I +guess it ain't. Beats all what some folks will do for +money." + +Joe thought so too,--had been thinking so ever +since he broke the seal of the letter that the postmaster +at Woodstock had directed for his father. +"Dad's right; trees have feelings," he kept repeating +to himself. And, as to being human, he could +recall a dozen that he had talked to and that had +talked back to him ever since he could remember. +His father had taught him their language on the long +days when he had trailed behind carrying the gum +bag or had hidden in the bushes while the old man +wormed himself along, his rifle in the hollow of his +arm, or when the two lay stretched out before their +camp fire. + +"Dogs and trees, my son, will never go back on ye +like some folks I've hearn tell of. Allers find 'em +the same. See that yaller birch over thar?--Well, +I've knowed that birch over forty-two year and he +ain't altered a mite, 'cept his clothes ain't as decent +as they was, and his shoes is give out 'round the roots. +You kin see whar the bark's busted 'long 'round his +toes,--but his heart's all right and he's alive and +peart, too. You'll find him fust tree out in the spring, +--sometimes 'fore the sugar sap's done runnin'. +Purty soon, if you watch him same's me, ye'll see +him begin to shake all over,--kind o' shivery with +some inside fun; then comes the buds and, fust thing +ye know, he gives a little see-saw or two in the warm +air and out busts the leaves, and he a laughin' fit to +kill. Maybe the birds ain't glad, and maybe them +squirrels that's been snowed up all winter with their +noses out o' that crotch, ain't jes' holdin' their sides, +and maybe, too, them little sunbeams don't like to +sneak in and go to sleep on the bark all silvery and +shinin' like the ribbons on Sis's hat! They're human, +them trees is, I tell ye, son,--real human! + +"And ye want to treat 'em with some perliteness, +too they're older'n anything 'round here 'cept the +rocks; and they've been holdin' up the dignity of this +valley, too,--kind o' 'sponsible for things. That's +another thing ye mustn't forgit. The fust folks that +come travellin' through this notch--'bout time the +Injins quit,--took notice on 'em, I tell ye. That's +what they come for. Bald Top and White Face was +all right, but it was the trees that knocked 'em silly. +That's what you kin read in the book school-teacher +has, and that's true. And see how they treat their +brothers that git toppled over,--by a windslash, maybe, +or lightnin' or a landslide, or some such cussed +thing, givin' 'em a shoulder to lean on same as you +would help a cripple. When they're clean down and +done for it ain't more'n a year or two 'fore they got +'em kivered all over with leaves, and then they git +tergether and hev a quiltin' party and purty soon +they're all over blankets o' green moss, and the others +jes stand 'round solemn and straight like's if they +was mountin' guard over their graves. + +"It's wicked to kill most anything 'less ye got +some use--and a good one, too,--for the meat, but +it's a durned sight meaner to cut down a tree that +took so long to grow and that's been so decent all +its life, 'less ye can't do without the stuff ye git +out'n it." + +Joe had listened and had drunk it all in, and his +love for the tall giants away back in the deep wilderness +had never left him. It was these dear old +friends more than anything else that had kept him at +home, under plea of helping his father, months after +he knew he ought to be up and doing if he would ever +be of any use to the old man in his later years. + +It was Plymouth first, as stable boy, and then +down to Nashua and Boston as teamster and freight +handler, and then, by what he considered at the time +a lucky chance--(Katie Murdock, from his own +town, and now a reporter in the same newspaper +office with himself, had helped), man of all work in +this whirl where he felt like a fly clinging to a driving +wheel. + +Stretching out his stout saw-log legs and settling +his big shoulders into the soft cushions made by the +sacks, his mind went back to the old sawmill,-- +Baker's Mill,--and the dam backed up alongside the +East Branch. An old kingfisher used to sit on a +limb over the still water and watch for minnows,--a +blue and white fellow with a sharp beak. He had +frightened him away many a time. And there was +a hole where two big trout lived. He remembered +the willows, too, and the bunch of logs piled as high +as the mill. These would be rolled down and cant- +hooked under its saw when the spring opened, but +Baker never ground any one of them up into wood +pulp. It went into clapboards to keep out the cold, +and shingles to keep off the rain, and the "waste" +went under the kettles of the neighbors, the light of +the jolly flames dancing round the room. He had +carried many a bundle home himself that the old +man had sent to Jonathan. Most everybody sent +Jonathan something, especially if they thought he +needed it. + +Then his mind reverted to his own share in the +whirl about him. It wasn't a job he liked, but there +wasn't anything else offering, and then Katie might +want somebody to look after her, and so it was just +as well he had the job. He and Katie had been +schoolmates together not so long ago, in the wooden +schoolhouse near the crossroads. She had gone to +college, and had come home with a diploma. She +was two or three years older than he was, but that +didn't make any difference to a boy and girl from +the same village when they had grown up alongside +of each other. He wondered how long it was to July, +when he was promised a week,--and so was Katie. +He knew just what they'd do; he could get two passes +to Plymouth,--his old friend the freight boss had +promised him that,--then about daylight, the time +the train arrived, he'd find Marvin, who drove the +stage up the valley and past his old home, and help +him curry his team and hitch up, and Marvin would +give them a ride free. He could feel the fresh air +on his cheeks as he rattled out of the village, across +the railroad track and out into the open. Tim +Shekles, the blacksmith, would be at work, and old +Mother Crawport would be digging in her garden, +early as it was; and out in the fields the crows would +be hunting corn; and pretty soon down would go the +wheels into the soft, clean gravel of the brook that +crossed the turnpike and out again on the other side +dripping puddles in the dirt; and soon the big trees +would begin, and keep on and on and on,--away +up to the tops of the mountains, the morning sun +silvering the mists sweeping up their sides,-- +and-- + +"Say! you! Wake up! He's been hollering at +you for five minutes. GIT!" + +Joe sat up and rubbed his eyes. The fresh air of +the morning had vanished. + +"Yes, sir." He was on his feet now, alert as a +terrier that had sniffed a rat. + +"YES, SIR, eh! How many times do you want me +to call you? Go and find Miss Murdock, and send +her here on the run. Tell her to get her hat and +cloak and show up in two minutes. I've got an +assignment for her on the East Side,--just come over +the 'phone. Hurry now! That damned kid ought +to be--" + +But Joe was already out of the room and down +two pair of stairs. Before the minutes were up he +was back again, Katie Murdock with him. She was +sliding her arm into the sleeve of her jacket as she +entered. + +"Forty-third and First Avenue, Miss Murdock," +said the night city editor, lifting his head so that the +cat eyes had full play. "Girl overboard from one of +the ferry boats,--lives at 117.--Drowned, they say,-- +some fellow mixed up in it. Take your snapshot +along and get everything. Find the mother if she's +got one and--" + +But the girl had gone. She knew the value of time, +--especially at that hour, even if she had been but +a week in her new department of "Special." Her +chief knew it, too, or he wouldn't have sent her +at that hour. There was time--plenty of time if +everything went right,--thirty minutes, perhaps +an hour,--to spare, but they were not hers to +waste. + +"Wait for me, Joe," she said, as she hurried past +him. "We'll go up town together, soon as the presses +start." + +Joe threw himself again on the pile of sacks and +kept his ears open for orders. It was a bad night +for Katie to go out. She was plucky and could hold +her own,--had done so a dozen times,--once in a +street car when some fellow tried to be familiar,-- +but he didn't like her to go, all the same. Nobody +who looked into her face and then down into her +blue eyes would ever make any mistake, but then some +men mightn't take the trouble to look. He'd wait +for her, no matter how late it might be. When she +came in she would be out of breath, and perhaps +hungry,--then he'd take her over to Cobb's for a cup +of coffee. + +During the interim Joe's legs had been kept busy. +Not only had he rushed downstairs and up again half +a dozen times, springing to the night city editor's +curse, or pound, or shout, whichever had come handiest, +but he had also been twice to the corner for frankfurters +for reporters who hadn't had a crumb to eat +for hours. He was unwrapping the second one when +Katie burst in. + +Her hat and coat were dripping wet and her hair +hung in disorder about her pale face. Her notes +were nearly completed; she had worked them out on +the elevated on her way downtown. Joe absorbed her +with a look, and slid to her side. Something in her +face told him of her errand; something of the suffering, +and perhaps horror,--and he wanted to get close +to her. The girl had reached the editor's desk now, +and was waiting until he had finished the paragraph +his pen was inditing. + +"Well," he said, laying down his pen,--"What +have you got?" He was running his cat eyes over +the girl's notes as he spoke,--taking in at a glance +the "meat" of her report. Then he added,--"Get +any snaps?" + +"No, sir, I--" + +"Didn't I tell you I must have 'em?" + +"Yes, but I couldn't do it. The mother was half +crazy and the two little children would have broken +your heart. She was the only one who could earn +anything--" + +"And you got into the house and had the whole +bunch right in your fist and never snapped a shutter! +See here, Miss Murdock I ain't running a Bible class +and you're not working in the slums,--you can keep +that gush for some other place. You had your +camera and flash,--I saw you go out with them. I +wanted everything: corpse of girl, the mother, children; +where she was hauled out,--who hauled her +out,--her lover,--she went overboard for some fellow, +you remember,--I told you all that. Well, +you're the limit!" + +Joe had moved up closer, now. He was formulating +in his mind what would happen to Katie if he +caught the night city editor under his chin and +slammed his head against the wall. He knew what +would happen to the editor and to himself, but it was +Katie's fate that kept his hands flat to his sides. + +"I would rather throw up my position than have +done it, sir," Katie pleaded. "There are some things +never ought to be printed. This drowned girl--" + +The night city editor sprang from his chair, +brushed the pile of notes aside with his hand, and +shouted + +"Say, you! Find that damned boy, somebody, +if he isn't asleep!" + +Joe, who was not ten feet away, stepped up and +faced him,--stepped so quickly that the man backed +away as if for more room. + +"Get a move on and send Miss Parker here. Hunt +for her,--if she isn't downstairs she may be at Cobb's +getting something to eat. Quick, now!" Then he +turned to Katie + +"You better go home, Miss Murdock. You're +tired, maybe: anyhow, you're way off. Miss Parker'll +get what we want,--she isn't so thin-skinned. Here, +take that stuff with you,--it's no use to me." + +The girl reached across the desk, gathered up the +scattered notes, and without a word left the room. +On the way downstairs she met Miss Parker coming +up, Joe at her heels. She was older than Katie,-- +and harder; a woman of thirty-five, whose experience +had ranged from nurse in a reformatory to a night +reporter on a "Yellow." The two women passed +each other without even a nod. Joe turned and followed +Katie Murdock downstairs and into the night +air. Miss Parker kept on her way. As she glided +through the room to the city editor's office, she had the +air of a sleuth tracking a criminal. + +Once outside in the night air, Joe drew Katie from +under the glare of the street lamp. Her eyes were +running tears,--at the man's cruelty and injustice, +she who had worked to any hour of the night to please +him. + +Joe was boiling. + +"I'll go back and punch him, if you'll let me. I +heard it all." + +"No, it'll do no good,--both of us would get into +trouble, then." + +"Well, then, I'll chuck my job. This ain't no +place for any decent girl nor man. Was it pretty bad +where you went, Katie?" + +"Bad! Oh, Joe, you don't know. I said, last +week, when I forced my way into the room of that +poor mother whose son was arrested, that I'd never +report another case like it. But you ought to have +seen what I saw to-night. The poor girl worked in +a box factory, they told me, and this man hounded +her, and in despair she threw herself overboard. The +room was full when I got there,--policemen,--one or +two other reporters,--no woman but me. They had +brought her in dripping wet and I found her on the +floor,--just a child, Joe,--hardly sixteen,--her hair +filled with dirt from the water,--the old mother +wringing her hands. Oh, it was pitiful! I could +have flashed a picture,--nobody would have cared nor +stopped me,--but I couldn't. Don't you see I +couldn't, Joe? He has no right to ask me to do +these things,--nobody has,--it's awful. It's horrible! +What would that poor mother have said when +she saw it in the paper? I'll go home now. No, +you needn't come,--they'll want you. Go back upstairs. +Good-night." + +Joe watched her until she caught an uptown car, +and then turned into the side door opening on the +narrow street. A truck had arrived while they were +talking, and the men were unloading some great +rolls of paper,--enormous spools. "What would dad +say if he saw what his trees had come to?" Joe +thought, as he stood for a moment looking them +over,--his mind going back to his father's letter. +One roll of wood pulp had already been jacked up +and was now feeding the mighty press. The world +would be devouring it in the morning; the drowned +girl would have her place in its columns,--so would +every other item that told of the roar and crash, the +crime, infamy, and cruelty of the preceding hours. +Then the issues would be thrown away to make room +for a fresher record;--some to stop a hole in a +broken window; some to be trampled under foot of +horse and man; many to light the fires the city +over. + +"My poor trees!" sighed Joe, as he slowly +mounted the steps to the top floor. "There ain't no +common sense in it, I know. Got to make sumpin' +out o' the timber once they're cut down, but it gits +me hot all the same when I think what they've come +to. Gol-darn-shame to serve ye so! Trees has feelin's, +same's men,--that's what dad says, and that's +true!" + +Miss Parker had done her work. Joe saw that +when he opened the paper the next morning: saw it +at a glance, and with a big lump in his throat and a +tightening of his huge fists. Flaring headlines +marked the first page; under them was a picture of +the girl in a sailor hat,--she had found the original +on the mantel and had slipped it in her pocket. Then +followed a flash photo of the dead girl lying on the +floor,--her poor, thin, battered and bruised body +straight out, the knees and feet stretching the wet +drapery,--nothing had been left out. Most of the +details were untrue,--the story of the lover being a +pure invention, but the effect was all right. Then, +again, no other morning journal had more than a +few lines. + +Everybody congratulated her. "Square beat," one +man said, at which her gray, cold face lightened up. + +"Glad you liked it," she answered with a nod of +her head,--"I generally 'get there.'" + +When the night city editor arrived--the city editor +was ill and he had taken his place for the day-- +he reached out and caught her hand. Then he drew +her inside the office. When she passed Joe again on +her way out, her smile had broadened. + +"Got her pay shoved up," one of the younger men +whispered to another. + +When Katie came in an hour later, no one in the +room but Joe caught the dark lines under her eyes +and the reddened lids,--as if she had passed a sleepless +night,--one full of terror. She walked straight +to where the boy stood at work. + +"I've just seen that poor mother, Joe. I saw the +paper and what Miss Parker had said and I went +straight to her. I did not want her to think I had +been so cruel. When I got to her house this morning +there was a patrol wagon at the door and all the +neighbors outside. A woman told me she was all +right until somebody showed her the morning paper +with the picture of her drowned daughter; then she +began to scream and went stark mad, and they were +getting ready to take her to Ward's Island when I +walked in. You've seen the picture, haven't you?" + +Joe nodded. He had seen the picture,--had it in +his hand. He dare not trust himself to speak,-- +everybody was around and he didn't want to appear +green and countrified. Then again, he didn't want +to make it harder for Katie. She had had nothing +to do with it, thank God! + +The door of the office swung open. The editor this +time caught sight of Katie, called her by name, and, +with a "Like to see you about a little matter," +beckoned her inside and shut the door upon them +both. + +A moment later she was out again, a blue envelope +in her hand. + +"He's got me discharged, Joe. Here's a note from +the city editor," she said. Her voice quivered and +the tears stood in her eyes. + +"Fired you!" + +"Yes,--he says I'm too thin-skinned." + +Joe stood for a moment with the front page of the +paper still in his hand. Something of Jonathan came +into his face,--the same firm lines about his mouth +that his father had when he crawled under the floor +timbers of the mill to save Baker's girl, pinned down +and drowning, the night of the freshet. + +Crushing the sheet in his hand Joe walked straight +into the city editor's office, a swing in his movement +and a look in his eye that roused everybody in the +room. + +"You've got Katie Murdock fired, she says," he +hissed between his teeth. "What fur?" He was +standing over the night city editor now, his eyes blazing, +his fists tightly closed. + +"What business have you to ask?" growled the +editor. + +"Every business!" There was something in the +boy's face that made the man move his hand toward a +paper weight. + +"She's fired because she wouldn't do your dirty +work. Look at this!"--he had straightened out the +crumpled sheet now: "Look at it! That's your +work!--ain't a dog would a-done it, let alone a man. +Do you know what's happened? That girl's mother +went crazy when she saw that picture! You sent +that catamount, Miss Parker, to do it, and she done +it fine, and filled it full o' lies and dirt! Ye didn't +care who ye hurt, you--" + +The man sprang to his feet. + +"Here!--put yourself outside that door! Get out +or I'll--" + +"Git out, will I!--ME!--I'll git out when you +eat yer words,--and you WILL eat 'em. Down they +go--" + +Joe had him by the throat now, his fingers tight +under his chin, his head flattened against the wooden +partition. In his powerful grasp the man was as +helpless as a child. + +"Eat it,--swallow it!--MORE--MORE--all of it! +damn ye!" + +He was cramming the wad between the editor's +lips, one hand forcing open his teeth, the other holding +his head firm against the wall. + +Then flinging the half strangled man from him he +turned, and facing the crowd of reporters and employes +--Miss Parker among them,--shouted:-- + +"And ye're no better,--none o' ye. Ye all hunt +dirt,--live on dirt and eat dirt. Ye're like a lot o' +buzzards stuck up on a fence rail waitin' fur an old +horse to die. Ain't one o' you reporters wouldn't +been glad to do what that catamount over there done +last night, and ain't one o' ye wouldn't take pay fur +it. Katie Murdock's fired? Yes,--two of us is fired, +--me and her. We'll go back whar we come from. +We mayn't be so almighty smart as some o' you city +folks be, but we're a blamed sight decenter. Up in +my country dead girls is sumpin' to be sorry fur, not +sumpin' to make money out'er, and settin' a poor +mother crazy is worse'n murder. Git out o' my way +thar, or I'll hurt some o' ye! Come, Katie!" + + + + +THE BEGUILING OF PETER GRIGGS + + + +Peter was in his room when I knocked--up two +flights of stairs off Washington Square--Eighth +Street really--in one of those houses with a past--of +mahogany, open wood fires, old Madeira in silver +coasters pushed across hand-polished tables,--that +kind of a past. + +None of all this could be seen in its present. The +marble steps outside were worn down like the teeth +of an old horse, and as yellow; the iron railings were +bent and cankered by rust; the front door was in +blisters; the halls bare, steps uncarpeted, and the +spindling mahogany balusters showed here and there +substitutes of pine. + +Nor did the occupants revive any of its old-time +charm. The basement held a grocery--a kindling- +wood, ice and potato sort of grocery; the parlor +boasted a merchant tailor--much pressing and repairing, +with now and then a whole suit; the second floor +front was given over to a wig-maker and the second +story back to a manicure. Here the tide of the commercial +and the commonplace stopped--stopped just +short of the third floor where old Peter Griggs lived. + +You would understand why if you knew the man. + +Just as this particular old house possessed two +distinct personalities--one of the past and the other +of the present--so did the occupant of the third floor. + +Downtown in the custom house, where he was employed +(he had something to do with invoices), he +was just plain Mr. Griggs--a short, crisp, "Yes and +so" little man--exact, precise and absurdly correct: +never, in all his life, had he made a mistake. + +Up in these rooms on the third floor he was dear +old Peter--or Pete--or Griggsy--or whatever his +many friends loved best to call him. Up here, too, +he was the merriest companion possible; giving out +as much as he absorbed, and always with his heart +turned inside out. That he had been for more than +thirty years fastened to a high stool facing his desk +bespoke neither political influence nor the backing +of rich friends. Nobody, really, had ever wanted his +place. If they did they never dared ask for it--not +above their breath. They would as soon have thought +of ousting the old clock from its perch in the rotunda, +or moving one of the great columns that faced the +street. So he just stayed on ticking away at his post, +quite like the old clock itself, and getting stiffer and +stiffer in the line of his duty--quite like the columns +--and getting more and more covered with the dust +of long habit--quite like both of them. + +This dust, being outside dust, and never sinking +the thousandth part of an inch below the surface, left +its mark on the man beneath as a live coal fading and +whitening leaves its covering of ashes on the spark. + +These two--the ashes and the spark--made up the +sum of Peter's individuality. The ash part was what +he offered to the world of routine--the world he hated. +The spark part--cheery, warm, enthusiastic, full of +dreams, of imaginings, with an absorbing love for little +bits of beauty, such as old Satsuma, Cloisonne, +quaint miniatures and the like--all good, and yet +within reach of his purse--this part he gave to his +friends. + +I am inside his room now, standing behind him +taking in the glow of the fire and the red damask +curtains shielding the door that leads to his bedroom; +my eye roving over the bookcases crammed with +books, the tables littered with curios and the mantel +covered with miniatures and ivories. I invariably do +this to discover his newest "find" before he calls my +attention to it. As he has not yet moved or given me +any other sign of recognition than a gruff "Draw up +a chair," in a voice that does not sound a bit like +him--his eyes all the time on the smouldering fire, +there is yet a chance to look him over before he begins +to talk. (We shall all be busy enough listening when +he does begin.) + +I say "ALL," for there is a second visitor close behind +me, and the sound of still another footstep can +already be heard in the hall below. + +It is the back of Peter's head now that interests +me, and the droop of his shoulders. They always +remind me of Leech's sketch of Old Scrooge waiting +for Marly's ghost, whenever I come upon him thus +unobserved. To-night he not only wears his calico +dressing-gown--unheard-of garment in these days +--but a red velvet cap pulled over his scalp. Most +bald men would have the cap black--but then most +bald men have not Peter's eye for color. + +It's a queer head--this head of Peter Griggs. Not +at all like any other head I know. If I should attempt +to describe it, I should merely have to say bluntly +that it was more like an enlarged hickory-nut than +any other object I can think of. It is of the same +texture, too, and almost as devoid of hair. Except +on his temples, and close down where his collar binds +his thin neck, there is really very little hair left; and +this is so near the color of the shrivelled skin beneath +that I never know where one begins and the other +ends. + +When I face him--and by this time I am facing +him--I must admit that the hickory-nut simile still +holds. There are no particular features, no decided +bumps, no decided hollows; the nose is only an enlarged +ridge, the cheeks and eye-sockets only seams. +But the eyes count--yes, the eyes count--count so +that you see at once that they are the live points of +the live coal smouldering beneath. + +Here the hickory-nut as a simile goes all to pieces. +These eyes are the flash from some distant lighthouse, +burning dull when the commonplace of life passes before +him, and bursting into effulgence when something +touches his heart or stirs his imagination. +Downtown in the Dismal Tomb even the lighthouse +goes to smash. Here the eyes set so far back in his +head that they look for all the world like two wary +foxes peeping out of a hole, losing nothing of what is +going on outside--never being fooled, never being +wheedled or coaxed out of their retreat. "Can't +fool Mr. Griggs," some broker says, as he tries to +get his papers signed out of his turn. Uptown these +same foxes are running around loose in an abandonment +of jollity, frisking here and there, all restraint +cast aside--trusting everybody--and glad to. That's +why I couldn't understand his tone of voice when I +opened his door. + +"Not sick, old fellow?" I cried. He had not yet +lifted his head or vouchsafed a single word of welcome. + +"Yes, sick at heart. My old carcass is all right, +but inside--way down where a man lives--I'm sick +unto death. Take a look at the mantelpiece. You see +my best miniature's gone, don't you?" + +"Not the Cosway?" + +"Yes, the Cosway!" + +"Stolen?" + +"Worse than stolen! Oh, my boy, such mean +people live in the world! I couldn't believe it possible. +I've read in the papers something like it, but +that I should have been--oh, I can't get over it! It +haunts me like a ghost. It isn't the value--it's the +way it was done; and I was so helpless, and I meant +only to be kind." + +The other men had arrived now and the three of us +were ranged around Peter in a circle, wondering with +wide-opened eyes at his tone of voice, his dismal expression, +and especially at the air of dejection which +seemed to ooze through every square inch of his calico +dressing-gown. + +"Sit down, all of you," he continued "and listen. +And it's all your fault. If only one of you had come +up to see me! I waited and waited; I knew most of +you would be off somewhere eating your Thanksgiving +turkey, but that every mother's son of you should +have forgotten me--that's what I won't forgive you +for." + +We, with one accord, began to make excuses, but +he waved us into silence. + +"After a while I got so lonely I couldn't stand it +any longer. So about six o'clock I started out to dine +alone somewhere--some place where I had no associations +with any one of you. I hadn't gone as far +as Broadway when along came two men and a woman. +You'd have said 'two gentlemen and a lady'--I say +two men and a woman. I looked at them and they +looked at me. I saw they were from out of town, and +right away came the thought, they must be lonely, +too. Everybody is lonesome on Thanksgiving if he's +away from home, or, like me, has no place to go to. +The Large Man stopped and nudged the Small Man, +and the Woman turned and looked at me earnestly, +then all three talked together for a minute, then +I heard the Small Man say, 'I'll go you a ten on it,' +which conveyed no meaning to me. Then all three of +them walked back to where I stood and the Large Man +asked me where Foscari's restaurant was. + +"Well, of course, that was in the next street, so I +volunteered to show them the place. On the way over +the Small Man and the Woman lagged behind and +I overheard them say that it would never do--that is, +the Woman said so; at which the Small Man laughed +and said they couldn't find a better. All this time the +Large Man held me by the arm in a friendly sort of +way, as if he were afraid I would stub my toe and fall +if he didn't help me over the gutters; telling me all +the time that he didn't know the ropes around New +York and how much obliged he was to me for taking +all this trouble to show him. Pretty soon we arrived +at Foscari's. I never dined there--never had been +inside the place. Cheap sort of a restaurant--down +two steps from the sidewalk, but they asked for +Foscari's, and that's where I took them. + +"'Here's the place,' I said, and I lifted my hat to +the Woman and turned to go back. + +"'No, don't go,' said the Large Man, still holding +on to my arm. 'You've been white and decent to us; +we're all stranded here. This is Thanksgiving-- +come in and have dinner with us.' + +"Then I began by thanking them and ended by +saying I couldn't. Then the Small Man began to +urge me, saying that out in his country, near the +Rockies, everybody was willing to sit down at anybody's +table when he was invited; and the Large +Man kept on squeezing my arm in a friendly sort of +way, so I finally said I didn't care if I did, and in we +all went. When we got inside the place was practically +empty--only one guest, really--and he was over +by the wall in a corner. There were only two waiters +--one an Irishman who said his name was Mike, with +a very red head and an enormous mouth--a queer +kind of a servant for that kind of a restaurant, I +thought--and the other a young Italian, who was +probably the cook. + +"'You order,' said the Large Man. 'You know +what's good in New York.' + +"So I ordered. + +"And I want to tell you that the dinner was a +particularly good one--well cooked and well served. +We had soup and fish and an Italian ragout, macaroni, +peppers and two bottles of red wine. Before +the soup was over I was glad I'd come; glad, not only +because the dinner was all right, but because the people +were human kind of people--no foolishness about +them--no pretension. They were not our kind of +people, of course--couldn't find them in New York +if you looked everywhere--not born and brought up +here. The Woman was gentle and kindly, saying +very little, but the Large Man was a hearty, breezy +sort of fellow--even if his language at times was +rough and uncouth--at least I thought so. Big bones +and a well-fed body; quick in his movements, yet +slow in his talk, showing force and determination in +everything he said. The Small Man was as tough +physically and as alert mentally, but there wasn't +so much of him. He talked, however, twice as fast as +the Large Man, and said less. + +"He talked of the city--how smart the people +were, how stuck up some of them, thinking they knew +it all, and how, if they but thought about it, they +must see after all that the West was the only thing +that kept the country alive. That kind of talk--not +in an offensive way--just as all of us talk when we +believe in our section of the country. + +"All this time the solitary guest sat against the +wall listening. Near as I could make out he only had +one dish and a small bottle of wine. Presently he +made a remark--not to us--not to the room--more +as if to himself. + +"'West is the only thing, is it? And every man +Jack of them from New England stock!' + +"This, too, didn't come in any offensive spirit-- +just as an aside, as if to keep himself company, being +lonely, of course. + +"But the Large Man caught it before all the words +were out of his mouth. + +"'Dead right, pard,' he said--I only quote his +words, gentlemen. 'My father came from Boston. +left there in '58. Where're you from?' + +"'Boston,' answered the man looking at him over +the prongs of his fork. + +"'That so? Well, why ain't you eatin' your +turkey with your folks? Got any?' + +"'Yes, got a lot of them, but I was short of a +ticket.' + +"Here the Large Man got up and went over to the +Man from Boston. + +"'Shake for Boston,' he said, holding out his big +hand. 'And now bring that bottle over here and +chip in with us.' Then he opened his pocketbook and +took out a square slip of paper. + +"'Here, tuck that in your clothes.' Again I must +remark, gentlemen, that I am only quoting their +language so that you can get a better idea of what +sort of people I was with. 'That's a pass to your +'burg. I'm going South and I won't use it.' + +"There were five of us at the table now, the Bostonian +bringing over his plate without a word except +'Thank you,' and taking his share of the different +dishes. + +"The talk now became very interesting. The +Large Man told stories of his early life on a farm +and the Bostonian recited verses, and recited them +very well, and the Woman laughed in the right place, +and when the cigars were brought and the coffee and +the cognac, I was sorry it was all over. That, when +I look back upon it, is the most extraordinary thing of +all. How a man of my experience could have-- +Well, I won't stop, I'll just keep on. + +"With the coffee, and before the red-headed Irishman +had brought the bill--oh, you should go round +to Foscari's and look at that Irishman just to see how +coarse and vulgar a man can be who spends his whole +life feeding animals who--no I WILL go on, for the +most interesting part is to come. When the coffee +was served, I say, the Large Man asked the waiter +where he could send a telephone message to his hotel +--wanted the porter to get his trunks down. The +Irishman answered: 'Out in the hall, to the right +o' where ye come in.' 'I'll go with you,' said the +Woman; so the two got up and I opened the door +for her, and we three sat down again--that is, the +Small Man, the Bostonian and myself. + +"We talked on, not noticing the time; then the +Small Man looked at his watch, jumped up and called +out to the waiter: 'Where did you say that telephone +place was?' + +"'In the hall--on the other side of that dure; ye +kin see it from where ye're sittin'.' + +"'Well, he's taking a devil of a time to do his +telephoning' said the Small Man. 'Hold on to my +coffee till I go and punch him up.' + +"The Bostonian and I kept on talking. He was a +draughtsman in an architect's office, so he told me, +and was promised a place the following week, and I +was very much interested in what he told me of his +walking the streets looking for work. + +"Mike, the waiter, now laid the bill on the table. +I didn't want to know the amount; my hosts wouldn't +want me to see it, of course, and so I didn't look at +it. The Bostonian craned his head, but I forestalled +his glance and turned a plate over it before he could +read the total. + +"Mike now approached. + +"'Ye'd better pay now,' he said, 'before any more +o' ye skip. It's nine dollars and sixty cints.' + +"'They'll all be back in a minute,' I said. 'Wait +till they come. I'm only an invited guest.' + +"'I'll wait nothin'. The boss is out and I'm in +charge. H'ist out yer money.' + +"The Bostonian had risen from the table now and +was looking at me as if I'd just been detected in picking +his pocket. + +"'But I'm an invited guest,' I protested. + +"'Invited guest, are ye?' continued the Irishman. +'And ye ordered the grub yersilf! You heard +him!' This to the Bostonian. 'Didn't he order the +stuff? Let's see yer wad. No more o' ye's goin' to +l'ave this room 'till I gits nine dollars and sixty +cints. Here, Macaroni'--and he called the Italian +--'ring up the station-house and till thim to sind +somebody 'round. Ye can't play that game on +me!" + +"'My dear fellow,' I said--I had now to be as +courteous as I could--'I don't want to play anything +on you. You may be right in your views that these +people have served me a scurvy trick, but I don't +believe it.' + +"'Well, thin, pull yer wad out, or I'll call the +perlice.' + +"'Don't do anything of the kind,' I urged. 'My +name is Peter Griggs and I live quite near here. +Lived there for twenty years. You can find out all +about me from any of the neighbors; I haven't enough +money with me, but I'll go to my room and get it.' + +"'No ye don't; none o' that guff for me!' You +can't think how coarse he was. Then he walked +deliberately over to the door and stood with his back +against it. + +"The Bostonian now joined in. + +"'It looks as if you had been buncoed, my friend,' +he said. 'It's an old dodge, this, of getting somebody +to pay for your dinner, especially on holidays, and +yet I can't see how anybody would pick you out as a +greenhorn. I'd divide the bill with you, but really, +as you know, I haven't the money.' I saw from his +tone that he was thinking better of me. + +"'No, I'll pay it myself. You, certainly, were not +to blame. Will you go to my room with me, Mike?' +I called him Mike because it seemed the best way to +conciliate the man. + +"'How far is it?' he asked, softening a little. + +"'Two blocks.' + +"'And ye'll pay if I go?' + +"'Of course I will pay. Do I look like a man +who would cheat you?' + +"'All right, come on.' + +"I bade the Bostonian good-by, and we started. + +"Mike didn't speak a word on the way, nor did I. +I felt like a suspected thief that a policeman was taking +to the station-house; I've passed them many +times in the street, and I've often wondered what was +passing in the thief's mind. I knew now. I knew, +too, what the Bostonian thought of me, and the +Italian, and Mike. + +"Then a shiver went through me, and the next +moment I broke out into a cold sweat. I suddenly +remembered that I hadn't any money in my room. I +had given every cent, except two dollars of the amount +I had brought uptown with me, to my washerwoman +the night before. The bill was not due, but Mrs. +Jones wanted it for Thanksgiving and so I let her +have it. And yet, gentlemen--would you believe it! +--I walked on, trying to think if there mightn't be +some bills in the vest I'd worn the day before, or in +the top drawer of my desk or in a china cup on the +mantel. Really, it was an awful, awful position! I +couldn't run! I couldn't explain. I just had to +keep on. + +"When I got here I turned up the light and asked +him to sit down while I searched my clothes--you +can see what disgrace does for a man--asked a common, +low, vulgar waiter to sit down in my room. He +didn't sit down--he just kept walking round and +round, peering into the bookcases, handling the little +things on the mantel, feeling the quality of the curtain +that hangs there at the door--like a pawnbroker +making up an inventory. + +"Finally he said: 'Ye got a nice place here'-- +the first words that had come from his lips since we +left the restaurant. 'The boss likes these jimcracks; +he's got a lot o' thim up where he lives. I seen him +pay twinty dollars to a Jew-dago for one o' THIM.' +And he pointed to my row of miniatures. + +"By this time I was face to face with the awful +truth. There was nothing in the vest-pocket, nor in +the cup, and there was nothing in the drawer. The +only money I had was the two-dollar bill which had +been left over after paying Mrs. Jones. I spread it +out before him and looked him straight in the eye-- +fearlessly--that he might know I wasn't telling him +an untruth. + +"'My good man,' I said in my kindest voice, 'I +was mistaken. I find I have no money. I have paid +away every cent except these two dollars; take this +bill and let me come in to-morrow and pay the +balance.' + +"'Good man be damned!' he said. 'I don't want +yer two dollars. I'll take this and call it square.' +Then he put my precious Cosway in his pocket and +without another word walked out of the room." + +"But wouldn't they give it back to you when you +went for it?" I blurted out. + +Peter leaned back in his chair and drummed on +the arm with his fingers. + +"To tell the truth, I have been ashamed to go. I +suppose they will give it back when I ask them. And +every day I intended going and paying them the +money, and every day I shun the street as if a plague +was there. I will go some time, but not now. Please +don't ask me." + +"Have you seen none of them since?" inquired +another of his visitors. + +"Only the Bostonian. He walked up to me +while I was having my lunch in Nassau Street yesterday. + +"'I came out better than you did,' he said. 'The +pass was good. I used it the next day. Just home +from the Hub.'" + +"Accomplice, maybe," remarked Peter's third +visitor, "just fooling you with that architect +yarn." + +"Buncoed that pass out of somebody else," suggested +the second visitor. + +"Perhaps," Peter continued. "I give it up. It's +one of the things that can never be explained. The +Bostonian was polite, but he still thinks me a cheat. +He let me down as easy as he could, being a gentleman, +but I can never forget that he saw me come in +with them and order the dinner, and that then I tried +to sneak out of paying for it. Oh, it's dreadful! +Dreadful!" + +Peter settled in his seat until only the top of his +red skull cap showed above the back of his easy chair. +For some minutes he did not speak, then he said +slowly, and as if talking to himself: + +"Mean, mean people to serve me so!" + +Some days later I again knocked at Peter's door. +I had determined, with or without his consent, to go +myself to Foscari's, redeem the miniature and explain +the circumstances, and let them know exactly +who Peter was. My hand had hardly touched the +panel when his cheery voice rang out: + +"Whoever you are, come in!" + +He had sprung from his chair now and had advanced +to greet me. + +"Oh, is it you! So glad--come over here before +you get your coat off. Look!" + +"The Cosway! You paid the bill and redeemed +it?" + +"Didn't cost me a cent." + +"They sent it to you, then, and apologized?" + +"Nothing of the kind. Give me your hat and +coat and plump yourself down on that chair by the +fire. I've got the most extraordinary story to tell +you you've ever heard in your whole life." + +He was himself again--the same bubbling spirit, +the same warmth in his manner, foxes out frolicking, +lighthouse flashing, everything let loose. + +"Last night I was sitting here at my desk writing, +about nine o'clock, as near as I can remember"-- +his voice dropped now to a tragic whisper, as if an +encounter with a burglar was to follow--"WHEN-_I_- +HEARD-A-HEAVY-TREAD-ON-THE-STAIRS, getting louder and +louder as it reached my door. Then came a knock +strong enough to crack the panels. I got up at once +and turned the knob. In the corridor stood the Large +Man. He was inside before I could stop him--I +couldn't have stopped him. You have no idea, my +dear friend, how big and strong that man is. What +he expected to see I don't know, but it evidently was +not what he found. + +"'I had a hell of a time finding you,' he began, +looking about him in astonishment. 'Been up and +down everywhere inquiring. Only got your number +from that red-headed plate-shover half an hour +ago.'" + +Peter's voice had now regained its customary +volume: + +"I had backed to the fireplace by this time and had +picked up the poker, as if to punch the fire, but I +really intended to strike him if he advanced too close +or tried to help himself to any of my things. He +never took the slightest notice of my movements, or +waited for any answer to his outburst--just kept +right on talking. + +"'You were so dead easy there warn't no fun in +it. I dropped to that the first time you opened your +head, but Sam had picked you out and it had to go +at that. My wife saw his mistake as soon as she got +her eyes on you, but Sam, like a fool, wouldn't listen. +He was to do the picking, and so I couldn't say a +word. When we all got outside, clear, we took a turn +around Washington Square so I could have my laugh +out on Sam, and when we got back you were gone +and so was the fellow from Boston who chipped +in, and so was that red-headed Irish waiter. That +knocked us silly--wife gave us rats, and I felt like +a yellow dog. Been a-feeling so ever since. The +Dago couldn't or wouldn't understand. Said we'd +better come in when the boss was there. We had to +take the eleven o'clock to Boston that night and had +only time to catch the train. When I got back at +six-ten to-night I drove to Foscari's, found the +Irishman and the boss, heard how he'd pulled your +leg--paid the bill--$9.60, wasn't it?--that's what +he said it was, anyhow--and here's your picture!' + +"I had dropped the poker now and was motioning +him to a chair. + +"'No, thank you, I won't sit down; ain't got time. +Got to take the eleven forty-five for Chicago. Well, +we had a lot of fun out of it, anyhow, only I didn't +intend it should end up the way it did. Just wanted +to get even with Sam and win my bet.' + +"'Bet? I asked. I was still in the dark as to +what he meant. + +"'Yes--bet Sam I'd bunco any New York man +he'd pick out, and you happened to be the one. You +see, wife and I and Sam were here for a few days and +we struck Thanksgiving and wanted some fun, and +we HAD it. You're white, old man all the way through +--white as cotton and our kind--never flunked once, +or turned a hair. Sally took an awful shine to you. +Shake! Next time I'm in New York I'll look you +up and if you ever come out our way we'll open a +keg o' nails, and make it red-hot for you, and don't +you forget it. Here's my card, so you can remember.'" + +Peter picked up the card from the table, threw up +his chin, and broke into one of his infectious laughs. +I reached over and took it from his hand. It bore this +inscription: + + +J. C. MURPHY +General Travelling Agent +C. S. & Q. R. R. + +OGDEN, UTAH + + + + +MISS JENNINGS'S COMPANION + + + +The big Liner slowed down and dropped anchor +inside the Breakwater. Sweeping toward her, pushing +the white foam in long lines from her bow, her +flag of black smoke trailing behind, came the company's +tender--out from Cherbourg with passengers. + +Under the big Liner's upper deck, along its top +rail, was strung a row of heads watching the tender's +approach--old heads--young heads--middle-aged +heads--Miss Jennings's among these last--their +eyes taking in the grim Breakwater with its beacon +light, the frowning casemates specked with sentinels, +and the line of the distant city blurred with masts +and spent steam. They saw, too, from their height +(they could look down the tender's smokestack) the +sturdy figure of her Captain, his white cap in relief +against the green sea, and below him the flat mass +of people, their upturned faces so many pats of color +on a dark canvas. + +With the hauling taut and making fast of the fore +and aft hawsers, a group of sailors broke away from +the flat mass and began tugging at the gangplank, +lifting it into position, the boatswain's orders ringing +clear. Another group stripped off the tarpaulins +from the piles of luggage, and a third--the gangplank +in place--swarmed about the heaps of trunks, +shouldering the separate pieces as ants shoulder +grains of sand, then scurrying toward the tender's +rail, where other ants reached down and relieved them +of their loads. + +The mass of people below now took on the shape of +a funnel, its spout resting on the edge of the gangplank, +from out which poured a steady stream of +people up and over the Liner's side. + +Two decks below where Miss Jennings and her +fellow-travellers were leaning over the steamer's rail +craning their necks, other sights came into view. +Here not only the funnel-shaped mass could be seen, +but the faces of the individuals composing it, as well +as their nationality and class; whether first, second +or steerage. There, too, was the line of stewards +reaching out with open hands, relieving the passengers +of their small belongings; here too stood the +First Officer in white gloves and gold lace bowing to +those he knew and smiling at others; and here too +was a smooth-shaven, closely-knit young man in dark +clothes and derby hat, who had taken up his position +just behind the First Officer, and whose steady steel +gray eyes followed the movements of each and every +one of the passengers from the moment their feet +touched the gangplank until they had disappeared +in charge of the stewards. + +These passengers made a motley group: first came +a stout American with two pretty daughters; then a +young Frenchman and his valet; then a Sister of +Charity draped in black, her close-fitting, white, +starched cap and broad white collar framing her face, +one hand clutching the rope rail as she stepped feebly +toward the steamer, the other grasping a bandbox, +her only luggage; next wriggled some college boys in +twos and threes, and then the rest of the hurrying +mass, followed close by a herd of emigrants crowding +and stumbling like sheep, the men with pillow-case +bundles over their backs, the women with babies +muffled in shawls. + +When the last passenger was aboard, the closely- +knit young man with the steel gray eyes leaned forward +and said in a low voice to the First Officer: + +"He's not in this bunch." + +"Sure?" + +"Yes--dead sure." + +"Where will you look for him now, Hobson?" +continued the officer. + +"Paris, maybe. I told the Chief we wouldn't get +anywhere on this lead. Well, so long"--and the +closely-knit young man swung himself down the gangplank +and disappeared into the cabin of the tender. + +The scenes on the gangplank were now repeated +on the steamer. The old travellers, whose hand luggage +had been properly numbered, gave themselves +no concern--the stewards would look after their belongings. +The new travellers--the Sister of Charity +among them--wandered about asking questions that +for the moment no one had time to answer. She, +poor soul, had spent her life in restful places, and the +in-rush of passengers and their proper bestowal +seemed to have completely dazed her. + +"Can I help you?" asked the First Officer--everybody +is ready to help a Sister, no matter what his +rank or how pressing his duties. + +"Yes, please--I want to know where my room is. +It is Number 49, so my ticket says." + +Here the Purser came up--he, too, would help +a Sister. + +"Sister Teresa, is it not--from the Convent of +the Sacred Heart? Yes, we knew you would get on +at Cherbourg. You are on the lower deck in the same +stateroom with Miss Jennings. Steward--take the +Sister to--" + +"With whom?" she cried, with a look of blank +amazement "But I thought I was alone! They +told me so at the office. Oh, I cannot share my room +with anybody. Please let--" + +"Yes, but we had to double up. We would willingly +give you a room alone, but there isn't an empty +berth on board." He was telling the truth and +showed it in his voice. + +"But I have the money to pay for a whole room. +I would have paid for it at the office in Paris, but +they told me it was not necessary." + +"I know, Sister, and I'm very sorry, but it can't +be helped now. Steward, take Sister Teresa to Number +49." This last came as an order, and ended the +discussion. + +When the Steward pushed open the door Miss Jennings +was sitting on the sofa berth reading, a long +gray cloak about her shoulders. She had a quiet, +calm face and steady eyes framed in gold spectacles. +She looked to be a woman of fifty who had seen life +and understood it. + +"The officer says I am to share your room," began +Sister Teresa in a trembling voice. "Don't think +me rude, please, but I don't want to share your room. +I want to be alone, and so do you. Can't you help +me?" + +"But I don't mind it, and you won't after you get +used to it." The voice was poised and well modulated +--evidently a woman without nerves--a direct, +masterful sort of woman, who looked you straight in +the eyes, was without guile, hated a lie and believed +in human nature. "And we ought to get on together," +she continued simply, as if it were a matter +of course. "You are a Sister, and from one of the +French institutions--I recognize your dress. I'm a +nurse from the London Hospital. The First Officer +told me you had the other berth and I was looking +for you aboard the Cherbourg tender, but I couldn't +see you for the smoke, you were so far below me. +We'll get on together, never fear. Which bed will +you have--this one or the one curtained off?" + +"Oh, do you take the one curtained off," she answered +in a hopeless tone, as if further resistance was +useless. "The sofa is easier perhaps for me, for I +always undress in the dark." + +"No, turn on the light. It won't wake me--I'm +used to sleeping anywhere--sometimes bolt upright +in my chair with my hand on my patient." + +"But it is one of the rules of our order to dress +and undress in the dark," the Sister pleaded; "candles +are luxuries only used for the sick, and so we +do without them." + +"All right--just as you say," rejoined Miss Jennings +cheerily. "My only desire was to make you +comfortable." + +That night at dinner Sister Teresa and Nurse +Jennings found themselves seated next to each other, +the Chief Steward, who had special orders from the +First Officer to show Miss Jennings and her companion +every courtesy, having conducted them to +their seats. + +Before the repast was half over, the two had attracted +the attention of all about them. What was +particularly noticed was the abstemious self-denying +life of the Sister so plainly shown in the lines of her +grave, almost hard, face, framed close in the tight +bands of white linen concealing every vestige of her +hair, the whole in strong contrast to the kind, sympathetic +face of the Nurse, whose soft gray locks hung +loosely about her temples. Their history, gleaned at +the First Officer's table had also become public property. +Nurse Jennings had served two years in South +Africa, where she had charge of a ward in one of the +largest field hospitals outside of Pretoria; on her +return to England, she had been placed over an important +case in one of the London hospitals--that +of a gallant Canadian officer who had been shipped +home convalescent, and who had now sent for her +to come to him in Montreal. The good Sister was one +of those unfortunate women who had been expelled +from France under the new law, and who was now +on her way to Quebec, there to take up her life-work +again. This had been the fifth refugee, the officer +added, whom the Line had cared for. + +When the hour for retiring came, Sister Teresa, +with the remark that she would wait until Miss Jennings +was in bed before she sought her own berth, +followed her companion to the stateroom, bade her +good-night, and then, with her hand on the knob, +lingered for a moment as if there was still some further +word on her lips. + +"What is it?" asked the Nurse, with one of her +direct, searching glances. "Speak out--I'm a +woman like yourself, and can understand." + +"Well, it's about the Hour of Silence. I must +have one hour every day when I can be alone. It has +been the custom of my life and I cannot omit it. It +will be many days before we reach the land, and +there is no other place for me to pray except in here. +Would you object if I--" + +"Object! Of course not! I will help you to keep +it, and I will see, too, that the Stewardess does not +disturb you. Now, is there anything else? Tell me +--I love people who speak right out what they mean." + +"No--except that I always rise at dawn, and will +be gone when you wake. Good-night." + +The morning after this first night the two lay in +their steamer chairs on the upper deck. The First +Officer, noticing them together, paused for a moment +on his way to the bridge: + +"You knew, of course, Miss Jennings, that Hobson +went back to Cherbourg on the tender. He left +good-by for you." + +"Hunting for somebody, as usual, I suppose?" +she rejoined. + +"Yes"--and he passed on. + +"A wretched life, isn't it," said Nurse Jennings, +"this hunting for criminals? This same man, Mr. +Hobson, after a hunt of months, found one in my +ward with a bullet through his chest." + +"You know him then?" asked Sister Teresa, with +a tremor in her voice. + +"Yes--he's a Scotland Yard man." + +"And you say he was looking for some one on +board and didn't find him?" + +"No, not yet, but he will find him, he always does; +that's the pity of it. Some of these poor hunted people +would lead a different life if they had another +chance. I tried to save the one Hobson found in my +ward. He was quite frank with me, and told me +everything. When people trust me my heart always +goes out to them--so much so that I often do very +foolish things that are apt to get me into trouble. +It's when they lie to me--and so many do--making +one excuse after another for their being in the ward +--that I lose all interest in them. I pleaded with Hobson +to give the man another chance, but I could do +nothing. Thief as he was, he had told the truth. He +had that quality left, and I liked him for it. If I had +known Hobson was on his track I'd have helped him +in some way to get off. He stole to help his old +mother, and wasn't a criminal in any sense--only +weak-hearted. The law is cruel--it never makes +allowances--that's where it is wrong." + +"Cruel!--it's brutal. It is more brutal often than +the crime," answered Sister Teresa in a voice full of +emotion. "Do you think the man your friend was +looking for here on board will escape?" + +"No, I'm afraid not. There is very little chance +of any criminal escaping when they once get on his +track, so Mr. Hobson has told me. If he is on this +steamer he must run another gauntlet in New York, +even if he is among the emigrants. You know we +have over a thousand on board. If he is not +aboard they will track him down. Dreadful, +isn't it?" + +"Poor fellow," said Sister Teresa, a sob in her +voice, "how sorry I am for him. If men only knew +how much wiser mercy is than justice in the redemption +of the world." Here she rose from her chair, +and gathering her black cloak about her crossed to +the rail and looked out to sea. In a few minutes she +returned. "Let us walk out to the bow where we +can talk undisturbed," she said. "The constant +movement of the passengers on deck, passing backward +and forward, disturbs my head. I see so few +people, you know." + +When they reached the bow, she made a place +beside her for the Nurse. + +"Don't misunderstand what I said about the brutality +of the law," she began. "There must be laws, +and brutal men who commit brutal crimes must be +punished. But there are so many men who are not +brutal, although the crimes may be. I knew of one +once. We had educated his little daughter--such a +sweet child! The man himself was a scene-painter +and worked in the theatres in London. Sometimes +he would take part in the play himself, making up +for the minor characters, although most of his time +was spent in painting scenery. He had married a +woman who was on the stage, and she had deserted +him for one of the actors, and left her child behind. +Her faithlessness nearly broke his heart. Through +one of our own people in London he found us and +sent the child to the convent where we have a school +for just such cases. When the girl got to be seventeen +years old he sent for her and she went to London +to see him. He remembered her mother's career, and +guarded her like a little plant. He never allowed her +to come to the theatre except in the middle of the day. +Then she would come where he was at work up on +the top of the painting platform high above the stage. +There he and she would be alone. One morning +while he was at work one of the scene-shifters--a man +with whom he had had some difficulty--met the girl +as she was crossing the high platform. He had never +seen her before and, thinking she was one of the +chorus girls, threw his arm about her. The girl +screamed, the scene-painter dropped his brushes, ran +to her side, hit the man in the face--the scene-shifter +lost his balance and fell to the stage. Before he died +in the hospital he told who had struck him; he told +why, too; that the scene-painter hated him; and that +the two had had an altercation the day before--about +some colors; which was not true, there only having +been a difference of opinion. The man fled to Paris +with his daughter. The girl today is at one of our +institutions at Rouen. The detectives, suspecting +that he would try to see her, have been watching that +place for the last five months. All that time he has +been employed in the garden of a convent out of +Paris. Last week we heard from a Sister in London +that some one had recognized him, although he had +shaved off his beard--some visitor or parent of one +of the children, perhaps, who had come upon him +suddenly while at work in the garden beds. He is +now a fugitive, hunted like an animal. He never +intended to harm this man--he only tried to save +his daughter--and yet he knew that because of the +difficulty that he had had with the dead man and the +fact that his daughter's testimony would not help +him--she being an interested person--he would be +made to suffer for a crime he had not intended to +commit. Now, would you hand this poor father over +to the police? In a year his daughter must leave the +convent. She then has no earthly protection." + +Miss Jennings gazed out over the sea, her brow +knit in deep thought. Her mind went back to the +wounded criminal in the hospital cot and to the look +of fear and agony that came into his eyes when Hobson +stood over him and called him by name. Sister +Teresa sat watching her companion's face. Her +whole life had been one of mercy and she never lost +an opportunity to plead its cause. + +The Nurse's answer came slowly: + +"No, I would not. There is misery enough in the +world without my adding to it." + +"Would you help him to escape?" + +"Yes, if what you tell me is true and he trusted +me." + +Sister Teresa rose to her feet, crossed herself, and +said in a voice that seemed to come through pent-up +tears: + +"Thank God! I go now to pray. It is my Hour +of Silence." + +When she returned, Nurse Jennings was still in +her seat in the bow. The sun shone bright and warm, +and the sea had become calm." + +"You look rested, Sister," she said, looking up +into her face. "Your color is fresher and the dark +rings have gone from your eyes. Did you sleep?" + +"No, I wait for the night to sleep. It is hard +enough then." + +"What did you do?" + +"I prayed for you and for myself. Come to the +stateroom--I have something to tell you." + +"Tell it here," said Nurse Jennings in a more +positive tone. + +"No, it might hurt you, and others will notice. +Come quick, please, or my courage will fail." + +"Can't I hear it to-night--" She was comfortable +where she was and remembered the narrow, steep +steps to the lower deck. + +"No! come now--and QUICK." + +At the tone of agony in the Sister's voice Miss +Jennings scrutinized her companion's face. Her +trained ear had caught an indrawn, fluttering sob +which she recognized as belonging to a certain form +of hysteria. Brooding over her troubles, combined +with the effects of the sea air, had unstrung the dear +Sister's nerves. + +"Yes, certainly," assented Miss Jennings. "Let +me take your arm--step carefully, and lean on me." + +On reaching the stateroom, Sister Teresa waited +until Miss Jennings had entered, then she locked the +door and pulled the curtains close. + +"Listen, Miss Jennings, before you judge me. +You remember yesterday how I pleaded with you +to help me find a bedroom where I could be alone. +You would not, and I could do nothing but let matters +take their course. Fate has placed me in your +hands. When you said that you were on the lookout +for me and that you knew Hobson, the detective, I +knew that all was lost unless your heart went out +to me. I know him, too. I faced his eyes when I +came aboard. I staggered with fright and caught +at the ropes, but he did not suspect--I saw in his face +that he did not. He may still trace me and arrest +me when I land. If anybody comes for me, say you +met me in the hospital where you work." + +Nurse Jennings stood staring into the woman's +eyes. Her first impulse was to ring the bell for the +Steward and send for the ship's doctor. Sudden +insanity, the result of acute hysteria, was not uncommon +in women leading sedentary lives who had gone +through a heavy strain, and the troubles of this poor +Sister had, she saw, unseated her reason. + +"Don't talk so--calm yourself. No one is seeking +you. You ought to lie down. Come--" + +"Yes, I know you think I am crazy--I am crazy +--crazy from a horrible fear that stares me in the +face--from a spectre that--" + +"Sister, you MUST lie down! I'll ring for the +Doctor and he--" + +Sister Teresa sprang forward and caught the hand +of the Nurse before it touched the bell. + +"Stop! STOP!--or all will be lost! I am not a +Sister--I am the scene-painter--the father of that +girl! See!" He threw back his hood, uncovering +his head and exposed his short-cropped hair. + +Nurse Jennings turned quickly and looked her +companion searchingly in the face. The surprise +had been so great that for an instant her breath left +her. Then slowly the whole situation rushed over +and upon her. This man had made use of her privacy +--had imposed upon her--tricked her. + +"And you--you have dared to come into this +room, making me believe you were a woman--and +lied to me about your Hour of Silence and all +the--" + +"It was the only way I could be safe. You and +everybody else would detect me if I did not shave +and fix up my face. You said a minute ago the +dark rings had gone from my eyes--it is this paint- +box that did it. Think of what it would mean to +me to be taken--and my little girl! Don't--don't +judge me wrongly. When I get to New York I +promise never to see you again--no one will ever +know. If you had been my own sister I could not +have treated you with more respect since I have been +in the room. I will do anything you wish--to-night +I will sleep on the floor--anything, if--" + +"To-night! Not another hour will you stay here. +I will go to the Purser at once and--" + +"You mean to turn me out?" + +"Yes." + +"Oh, merciful God! Don't! Listen--you MUST +listen. Let me stay! What difference should it make +to you. You have nursed hundreds of men. You +have saved many lives. Save mine--give me back +my little girl! She can come to me in Quebec and +then we can get away somewhere in America and be +safe. I can still pass as a Sister and she as a child +in my charge until I can find some place where I can +throw off my disguise. See how good the real Sisters +are to me; they do not condemn me. Here is a +letter from the Mother Superior in Paris to the +Mother Superior of a convent in Quebec. It is not +forged--it is genuine. If they believe in me, why +cannot you? Let me stay here, and you stay, too. +You would if you could see my child." + +The sound of a heavy step was heard outside in the +corridor. + +Then came a quick, commanding voice: "Miss +Jennings, open the door, please." + +The Nurse turned quickly and made a step toward +the door. The fugitive sank upon the sofa and drew +the hood over his face. + +Again her name rang out--this time in a way that +showed them both that further delay was out of the +question. + +Nurse Jennings shot back the bolt. + +Outside stood the First Officer. + +"There has been a bad accident in the steerage. +I hate to ask you, Miss Jennings, knowing how tired +you are--but one of the emigrants has fallen down +the forecastle hatch. The Doctor wants you to come +at once." + +During the rest of the voyage Nurse Jennings +slept in the steerage; she would send to Number 49 +during the day for her several belongings, but she +never passed the night there, nor did she see her +companion. The case was serious, she told the Stewardess, +who came in search of her, and she dared not +leave. + +The fugitive rarely left the stateroom. Some +days he pleaded illness and had his meals brought to +him; often he ate nothing. + +As the day approached for the vessel to arrive in +New York a shivering nervousness took possession +of him. He would stand behind the door by the hour +listening for her lightest footfall, hoping against hope +that, after all, her heart would soften toward him. +One thought absorbed him: would she betray him, +and if so, when and where? Would it be to the First +Officer--the friend of Hobson--or would she wait +until they reached New York and then hand him over +to the authorities? + +Only one gleam of hope shone out illumining his +doubt, and that was that she never sent to the stateroom +during the Hour of Silence, thus giving him a +chance to continue his disguise. Even this ray was +dimmed when he began to realize as they approached +their destination that she had steadily avoided him, +even choosing another deck for a breath of fresh air +whenever she left her patient. That she had welcomed +the accident to the emigrant as an excuse for +remaining away from her stateroom was evident. +What he could not understand was, if she really pitied +and justified him, as she had done his prototype, why +she should now treat him with such suspicion. At +her request he had opened his heart and had trusted +her; why then could she not forgive him for the +deceit of that first night--one for which he was not +responsible? + +Then a new thought chilled him like an icy wind: +her avoidance of him was only an evidence of her +purpose! Thus far she had not exposed him, because +then it would be known aboard that they had shared +the stateroom together. He saw it all now. She was +waiting until they reached the dock. Then no one +would be the wiser. + +When the steamer entered her New York slip and +the gangplank was hoisted aboard, another thick-set, +closely-knit man pushed his way through the crowd +at the rail, walked straight to the Purser and whispered +something in his ear. The next moment he +had glided to where the Nurse and fugitive were +standing. + +"This is Miss Jennings, isn't it? I'm from the +Central Office," and he opened his coat and displayed +the gold shield. "We've just got a cable from Hobson. +He said you were on board and might help. +I'm looking for a man. We've got no clew--don't +know that he's on board, but I thought we'd look +the list over. The Purser tells me that you helped +the Doctor in the steerage--says somebody had been +smashed up. Got anything to suggest?--anybody +that would fit this description: 'Small man, only five- +feet-six; blue eyes'"--and he read from a paper in +his hand. + +"No, I don't think so. I was in the steerage, of +course, four or five days, and helped on a bad case, +but I didn't notice anybody but the few people immediately +about me." + +"Perhaps, then, among the first-class passengers? +Anybody peculiar there? He's a slick one, we hear, +and may be working a stunt in disguise." + +"No. To tell you the truth, I was so tired when +I came aboard that I hardly spoke to any one--no one, +really, except my dear Sister Teresa here, who shared +my stateroom. They have driven her out of France +and she is on her way to a convent in Quebec. I go +with her as far as Montreal." + + + + +SAM JOPLIN'S EPIGASTRIC NERVE + + + +I + + + +"You eat too much, Marny." It was Joplin, of +Boston, who was speaking--Samuel Epigastric Joplin, +his brother painters called him. "You treat your +stomach as if it were a scrap-basket and you dump +into it everything you--" + +"I do? You caricature of a codfish ball!" + +"Yes, you do. You open your mouth, pin back +your ears and in go pickles, red cabbage, Dutch +cheese. It's insanity, Marny, and it's vulgar. No +man's epigastric can stand it. It wouldn't make any +difference if you were a kangaroo with your pouch +on the outside, but you're a full-grown man and ought +to have some common-sense." + +"And you think that if I followed your idiotic +theory it would keep me out of my coffin, do you? +What you want, Joppy, is a square meal. You never +had one, so far as I can find out, since you were +born. You drank sterilized milk at blood temperature +until you were five; chewed patent, unhulled +wheat bread until you were ten, and since that time +you've filled your stomach with husks--proteids, and +carbohydrates, and a lot of such truck--isn't that +what he calls em, Pudfut?" + +The Englishman nodded in assent. + +"And now just look at you, Joppy, instead of a +forty-inch chest--" + +"And a sixty-inch waist," interjected Joplin with +a laugh, pointing at Marny's waistcoat. + +"I acknowledge it, old man, and I'm proud of it," +retorted Marny, patting his rotundity. "Instead, I +say, of a decent chest your shoulders crowd your +breast-bone; your epigastric, as you call it--it's your +solar plexus, Joppy--but that's a trifle to an anatomist +like you--your epigastric scrapes your back- +bone, so lonely is it for something warm and digestible +to rub up against, and your-- Why, Joppy, do +you know when I look at you and think over your +wasted life, my eyes fill with tears? Eat something +solid, old man, and give your stomach a surprise. +Begin now. Dinner's coming up--I smell it. Open +your port nostril, you shrivelled New England bean, +and take in the aroma of beatific pork and greens. +Doesn't that put new life into you? Puddy, you and +Schonholz help Joppy to his feet and one or two of +you fellows walk behind to pick up the pieces in +case he falls apart before we can feed him. There's +Tine's dinner-bell!" + +White-capped, rosy-checked, bare-armed Tine had +rung that bell for this group of painters for two +years past--ever since Mynheer Boudier of the +Bellevue over the way, who once claimed her +services, had reproved Johann, the porter, for blocking +up with the hotel trunks that part of the sidewalk +over which the steamboat captain slid his gangplank. +Thereupon Tine slipped her pretty little feet into her +white sabots--she and Johann have been called in +church since--and walked straight over to the Holland +Arms. Johann now fights the steamboat captain, +backed not only by the landlord of the Arms, +who rubs his hands in glee over the possession of two +of his competitor's best servants, but by the whole +coterie of painters whose boots Johann blacks, whose +kits be packs and unpacks, whose errands he runs; +while Tine, no less loyal and obliging, darns their +stockings, mends their clothes, sews on buttons, +washes brushes, stretches canvases, waits on table, +rings the dinner-bell, and with her own hands scrubs +every square inch of visible surface inside and out +of this quaint old inn in this sleepy old town of Dort- +on-the-Maas--side-walks, windows, cobbles--clear to +the middle of the street, her ruddy arms bare to the +elbow, her sturdy, blue-yarn-stockinged legs thrust +into snow-white sabots to keep her trim feet from the +wet and slop. + +Built in 1620, this inn of the Holland Arms--so +the mildewed brick in the keystone over the arch +of the doorway says--and once the home of a Dutchman +made rich by the China trade, whose ships cast +anchor where Fop Smit's steamboats now tie up (I +have no interest in the Line); a grimy, green- +moulded, lean-over front and moss-covered, sloping- +roof sort of an inn, with big beams supporting the +ceilings of the bedrooms; lumbering furniture blackened +with the smoke of a thousand pipes flanking the +walls of the coffee-room; bits of Delft a century old +lining the mantel; tiny panes of glass with here and +there a bull's-eye illumining the squat windows; +rows of mugs with pewter tops crowding the narrow +shelves beside the fireplace, and last, and by no means +least, a big, bulky sun-moon-and-stars clock, with one +eye always open, which strikes the hours as if it meant +to beat the very life out of them. + +But there is something more in this coffee-room-- +something that neither Mynheer Boudier of the +Bellevue nor any other landlord in any other hostelry, +great or small, up and down the Maas, can +boast. This is the coffee-room picture gallery--free +to whoever comes. + +It began with a contribution from the first impecunious +painter in payment of an overdue board-bill, +his painting being hung on a nail beside the clock. +Now; all over the walls--above the sideboard with its +pewter plates and queer mugs; over the mantel holding +the Delft, and between the squat windows--are +pinned, tacked, pasted and hung--singly and in +groups--sketches in oil, pastel, water color, pencil +and charcoal, many without frames and most of them +bearing the signature of some poor, stranded painter, +preceded by the suggestive line, "To my dear friend, +the landlord"--silent reminders all of a small cash +balance which circumstances quite beyond their control +had prevented their liquidating at the precise +hour of their departure. + +Mynheer had bowed and smiled as each new contribution +was handed him and straightway had found +a hammer and a nail and up it went beside its fellows. +He never made objection: the more the merrier. The +ice wind would soon blow across the Maas from +Papendrecht, the tall grasses in the marshes turn +pale with fright, and the lace-frost with busy fingers +pattern the tiny panes, and then Johann would pack +the kits one after another, and the last good-byes take +place. But the sketches would remain. Oh! yes, the +sketches would remain and tell the story of the summer +and every night new mugs would be filled around +the coal-fire, and new pipes lighted--mugs and pipes +of the TOWNSPEOPLE this time, who came to feast +their eyes,--and, although the summer was gone, +the long winter would still be his. No, Mynheer +never objected! + +And this simple form of settlement--a note of +hand (in color), payable in yearly patronage--has +not been confined to modern times. Many an inn +owes its survival to a square of canvas--the head of +a child, a copper pot, or stretch of dune; and more +than one collector now boasts of a masterpiece which +had hung for years on some taproom wall, a sure but +silent witness of the poverty of a Franz Hals, +Wouverman or Van der Helst. + +Each year had brought new additions to the impecunious +group about Mynheer's table. + +Dear old Marny, with his big boiler amidships, +his round, sunburned face shaded by a wide-brimmed, +slouch hat--the one he wore when he lived with the +Sioux Indians--loose red tie tossed over one shoulder, +and rusty velveteen coat, was an old habitue. And +so was dry, crusty Malone, "the man from Dublin," +rough outside as a potato and white inside as its +meal. And so, too, was Stebbins, the silent man of +the party, and the only listener in the group. All +these came with the earliest birds and stayed until +the boys got out their skates. + +But there were others this year who were new. +Pudfut, the Englishman, first--in from Norway, +where he had been sketching on board some lord's +yacht--he of the grizzly brown beard, brown ulster +reaching to his toes, gray-checked steamer-cap and +brierwood pipe--an outfit which he never changed-- +"slept in them," Marny insisted. + +"Me name's Pudfut," he began, holding out his +hand to Marny. "I've got a letter in my clothes +for ye from a chap in Paris." + +"Don't pull it out," had come the answer. +"Put it there!" and within an hour the breezy fellow, +his arm through the Englishman's, had trotted +him all over Dort from the Groote Kerk to the old +Gate of William of Orange, introducing him to every +painter he met on the way, first as Pudfut, then as +Puddy, then as Pretty-foot, then as Tootsie-Wootsie, +and last as Toots--a name by which he is known in +the Quartier to this day. This done, he had taken +him up to his own room and had dumped him into +an extra cot--his for the rest of the summer. + +Then Schonholz wandered in--five gulden a week +board was the magnet--a cheese-faced, good-natured +German lad with forehead so high that when he raised +his hat Marny declared, with a cry of alarm, that +his scalp had slipped, and only regained his peace +of mind when he had twisted his fat fingers in the +lad's forelock to make sure that it was still fast. +Schonholz had passed a year at Heidelberg and carried +his diploma on his cheek--two crisscross slashes +that had never healed--spoke battered English, wore +a green flat-topped cap, and gray bobtailed coat with +two rows of horn buttons ("Come to shoot chamois, +have you?" Marny had asked when he presented his +credentials.)--laughed three-quarters of the time +he was awake, and never opened his kit or set a palette +while he was in Dort. "Too vet and too fodgy all +dime," was the way he accounted for his laziness. + +Last came Joplin--a man of thirty-five; bald as an +egg and as shiny. ("Dangerous to have a hen +around," Marny would say, rubbing the pate after +the manner of a phrenologist.) Gaunt, wiry; jerky +in his movements as a Yankee clock and as regular +in his habits: hot water when he got up--two glasses, +sipped slowly; cold water when he went to bed, head +first, feet next, then the rest of him; window open +all night no matter how hard it blew or rained; ate +three meals a day and no more; chewed every mouthful +of food thirty times--coffee, soup, even his drinking +-water (Gladstone had taught him that, he +boasted)--a walking laboratory of a man, who knew +it all, took no layman's advice, and was as set in his +ways as a chunk of concrete. + +And his fads did not stop with his food; they +extended to his clothes--everything he used, in fact. +His baggy knickerbockers ended in leather leggins +to protect his pipe-stem shanks; his shirts buttoned +all the way down in front and went on like a coat; +he wore health flannels by day and a health shirt at +night ("Just like my old Aunt Margaret's wrapper," +whispered Marny in a stage voice to Pudfut); +sported a ninety-nine-cent silver watch fastened to a +leather strap (sometimes to a piece of twine); stuck +a five-hundred-dollar scarab pin in his necktie-- +"Nothing finer in the Boston Museum," he maintained, +and told the truth--and ever and always enunciated +an English so pure and so undefiled that +Stebbins, after listening to it for a few minutes, proposed, +with an irreverence born of good-fellowship, +that a subscription be started to have Joplin's dialect +phonographed so that it might be handed down to +posterity as the only real and correct thing. + +"Are you noticing, gentlemen, the way in which +Joplin handles his mother tongue?" Stebbins had +shouted across the table: "never drops his 'g's,' +never slights his first syllable; says 'HUmor' with an +accent on the 'HU.' But for the fact that he pronounces +'bonnet' 'BUNNIT' and 'admires' a thing +when he really ought only to 'like' it, you could +never discover his codfish bringing up. Out with +your wallets--how much do you chip in?" + +These peculiarities soon made Joplin the storm- +centre of every discussion. Not only were his views +on nutrition ridiculed, but all his fads were treated +with equal disrespect. "Impressionism," "plein +air," the old "line engraving" in contrast to the +modern "half-tone" methods--any opinion of Joplin's, +no matter how sane or logical, was jostled, sat +on, punched in the ribs and otherwise maltreated until +every man was breathless or black in the face with +assumed rage--every man except the man jostled, who +never lost his temper no matter what the provocation, +and who always came up smiling with some such +remark as: "Smite away, you Pharisees; harmony +is heavenly--but stupid. Keep it up--here's the +other cheek!" + +On this particular night Joplin, as I have said, +had broken out on diet. Some movement of Marny's +connected with the temporary relief of the lower +button of his waistcoat had excited the great Bostonian's +wrath. The men were seated at dinner +inside the coffee-room, Johann and Tine serving. + +"Yes, Marny, I'm sorry to say it, but the fact is +you eat too much and you eat the wrong things. If +you knew anything of the kinds of food necessary to +nourish the human body, you would know that it +should combine in proper proportions proteid, fats, +carbohydrates and a small percentage of inorganic +salts--these are constantly undergoing oxidation and +at the same time are liberating energy in the form of +heat." + +"Hear the bloody bounder!" bawled Pudfut from +the other end of the table. + +"Silence!" called Marny, with his ear cupped in +his fingers, an expression of the farthest-away-boy- +in-the-class on his face. + +Joplin waved his hand in protest and continued, +without heeding the interruption: "Now, if you're +stupid enough to stuff your epigastrium with pork, +you, of course, get an excess of non-nitrogenous fats, +and in order to digest anything properly you must +necessarily cram in an additional quantity of carbohydrates +--greens, potatoes, cabbage--whatever Tine +shoves under your nose. Consult any scientist and +see if I am not right--especially the German doctors +who have made a specialty of nutrition. Such men +as Fugel, Beenheim and--" + +Here a slice of Tine's freshly-cut bread made a +line-shot, struck the top of Joplin's scalp, caromed on +Schonholz's shirt-front and fell into Stebbins's lap, +followed instantly by "Order, gentlemen!" from +Marny. "Don't waste that slab of proteid. The +learned Bean is most interesting and should not be +interrupted." + +"Better out than in," continued Joplin, brushing +the crumbs from his plate. "Bread--fresh bread +particularly--is the very worst thing a man can put +into his stomach." + +"And how about pertaties?" shouted Malone. "I +s'pose ye'd rob us of the only thing that's kep' us +alive as a nation, wouldn't ye?" + +"I certainly would, 'Loney, except in very small +quantities. Raw potatoes contain twenty-two per +cent. of the worst form of non-nitrogenous food, and +seventy-eight per cent. of water. You, Malone, with +your sedentary habits, should never touch an ounce +of potato. It excites the epigastric nerve and induces +dyspepsia. You're as lazy as the devil and should +only eat nitrogenous food and never in excess. What +you require is about one hundred grams of protein, +giving you a fuel value of twenty-seven hundred calories, +and to produce this fifty-five ounces of food a +day is enough. When you exceed this you run to +flesh--unhealthy bloat really--and in the wrong +places. You've only to look at Marny's sixty-inch +waist-line to prove the truth of this theory. Now look +at me--I keep my figure, don't I? Not a bad one for +a light-weight, is it? I'm in perfect health, can run, +jump, eat, sleep, paint, and but for a slight organic +weakness with my heart, which is hereditary in my +family and which kills most of us off at about seventy +years of age, I'm as sound as a nut. And all--all, +let me tell you, due to my observing a few scientific +laws regarding hygiene which you men never seem +to have heard of." + +Malone now rose to his feet, pewter mug in hand, +and swept his eye around the table. + +"Bedad, you're right, Joppy," he said with a wink +at Marny--"food's the ruination of us all; drink +is what we want. On yer feet, gintlemen--every +mother's son of ye! Here's to the learned, livin' +skeleton from Boston! Five per cint. man and +ninety-five per cint. crank!" + + + + +II + + + +The next morning the group of painters--all except +Joplin, who was doing a head in "smears" behind +the Groote Kerk a mile away--were at work in the +old shipyard across the Maas at Papendrecht. Marny +was painting a Dutch lugger with a brown-madder +hull and an emerald-green stern, up on the ways for +repairs. Pudfut had the children of the Captain +posed against a broken windlass rotting in the tall +grass near the dock, and Malone and Schonholz, pipe +in mouth, were on their backs smoking. "It wasn't +their kind of a mornin'," Malone had said. + +Joplin's discourse the night before was evidently +lingering in their minds, for Pudfut broke out with: +"Got to sit on Joppy some way or we'll be talked to +death," and he squeezed a tube of color on his palette. +"Getting to be a bloody nuisance." + +"Only one way to fix him," remarked Stebbins, +picking up his mahlstick from the grass beside him. + +"How?" came a chorus. + +"Scare him to death." + +The painters laid down their brushes. Stebbins +rarely expressed an opinion; any utterance from him, +therefore, carried weight. + +"Go for him about his health, I tell you," continued +Stebbins, dragging a brush from the sheaf +in his hand. + +"But there's nothing the matter with him," answered +Marny. "He's as skinny as a coal-mine +mule, but he's got plenty of kick in him yet." + +"You're dead right, Marny," answered Stebbins, +"but he doesn't think so. He's as big a fool over +every little pain as he is over his theories." + +"Niver cracked his jaw to me about it," sputtered +Malone from between the puffs of his pipe. + +"No, and he won't. I don't jump on him as +you fellows do and so I get his confidence. He's +in my room two or three times every night going +over his symptoms. When his foot's asleep he thinks +he's got creeping paralysis. Every time his breath +comes short, his heart's giving out." + +"That's hereditary!" said Marny; "he said so." + +"Hereditary be hanged! Same with everything +else. Last night he dug me out of bed and wanted +me to count his pulse--thought it intermitted. He's +hipped, I tell you, on his health!" + +"That's because he lives on nothing," rejoined +Marny. "Tine puts the toast in the oven over night +so it will be dry enough for him in the morning-- +she told me so yesterday. Now he's running on sour +milk and vinegar--'blood too alkaline,' he says--got +a chalky taste in his mouth!" + +"Well, whatever it is, he's a rum-nuisance," said +Pudfut, "and he ought to be jumped on." + +"Yes," retorted Stebbins, "but not about his food. +Jump on him about his health, then he'll kick back +and in pure obstinacy begin to think he's well--that's +his nature." + +"Don't you do anything of the kind," protested +Marny. "Joppy's all right--best lad I know. Let +him talk; doesn't hurt anybody and keeps everything +alive. A little hot air now and then helps his +epigastric." + +Malone and Schonholz had raised themselves on +their elbows, twisted their shoulders and had put +their heads together--literally--without lifting their +lazy bodies from the warm, dry grass--so close that +one slouch hat instead of two might have covered +their conspiring brains. From under the rims of +these thatches came smothered laughs and such unintelligible +mutterings as: + +"Dot's de vay, by chimminy, 'Loney! And den +I--" + +"No, begorra! Let me have a crack at him fu'st!" + +"No, I vill before go and you come--" + +"Not a word to Marny, remimber; he'd give it +away--" + +"Yes, but we vill tell Poodfut und Sthebbins, eh?" + +That afternoon the diabolical plot was put in +motion. The men had finished for the day; had +crossed the ferry and had found Joplin wandering +around the dock looking for a new subject. The +Groote Kerk "smear" was under his arm. + +Pudfut, under pretence of inspecting the smear-- +a portrait of the old Sacristan on a bench in front of +the main entrance--started back in surprise on seeing +the Bostonian, and asked with an anxious tone in +his voice: + +"Aren't you well, old man? Look awfully yellow +about the gills. Worked too hard, haven't you? No +use overdoing it." + +"Well? Of course I'm well! Sound as a nut. +Little bilious, maybe, but that's nothing. Why?" + +"Oh, nothing! Must say, though, you gave me a +twist when I came on you suddenly. Maybe it's your +epigastric nerve; maybe it's your liver and will pass +off, but I'd knock off work for a day or two if I were +you." + +Malone now took a hand. + +"Let me carry yer kit, Joppy, ye look done up. +What's happened to ye, man, since mornin'?" + +"Never felt better in my life," protested Joplin. +"No, I'll carry it--not heavy--" + +Then he quickened his pace--they were all on their +way back to the inn--and overtook Stebbins and +Schonholz. + +"Stebbins, old man--" + +"Yes, Joppy." + +"What I told you last night is turning out just +as I expected. Heart's been acting queer all morning +and my epigastric nerve is very sensitive. Puddy +says I look awful. Do you see it?" + +Stebbins looked into the Bostonian's face, hesitated, +and said with an apologetic tone in his voice: + +"Well, everybody looks better one time than another. +You've been working too hard, maybe." + +"But do I look yellow?" + +"Well, to tell you the truth, Joppy, you do--yellow +as a gourd--not always, just now and then when +you walk fast or run upstairs." + +"I've been afraid of that. Was my pulse all right +when you counted it last night?" + +"Yes, certainly--skipped a beat now and then, +but that's nothing. I had an uncle once who had a +pulse that wobbled like that. He, of course, went off +suddenly; some said it was apoplexy; some said it +was his heart--these doctors never agree. I wouldn't +worry about it, old man. Hold on, Pudfut, don't +walk so fast." + +Pudfut held on, and so did Schonholz and Malone, +and then the four slipped behind a pile of oil barrels +and concentrated their slouch hats and Schonholz +slapped his thigh and said with a smothered laugh +that it was "sphlendeed!" and Malone and Pudfut +agreed, and then the three locked arms and went +singing up the street, their eyes on Joplin's pipe- +stem legs as he trotted beside Marny on his way to +the inn. + +When the party reached the coffee-room Marny +called Tine to his side, spread out the fingers and +thumb of one hand, and that rosy-cheeked lass without +the loss of a second, clattered over to the little +shelf, gathered up five empty mugs and disappeared +down the cellar steps. This done the coterie drew +their chairs to one of Tine's hand-scrubbed tables +and sat down, all but Joplin, who kept on his way to +his room. There the Bostonian remained, gazing out +of the window until Johann had banged twice on his +door in announcement of dinner. Then he joined the +others. + +When all were seated Schonholz made a statement +which was followed with results more astounding to +the peace of the coterie than anything which had +occurred since the men came together. + +"I haf bad news, boys," he began, "offle bad news. +Mine fader has wrote dat home I must. Nod anuder +mark he say vill he gif me. Eef I could sell somedings +--but dat ees very seldom. No, Marny, you +don't can lend me noddings. What vill yourselluf +do? Starve!" + +"Where do you live, Schonholz?" asked Joplin. + +"By Fizzenbad." + +"What kind of a place is it--baths?" + +"Yes." + +"What are they good for?" continued Joplin in +a subdued tone. + +"Noddings, but blenty peoples go." + +"I can tell you, Joppy," said Pudfut gravely, +with a wink at Malone. "There are two spas, both +highly celebrated. Lord Ellenboro spent a month +there and came back looking like another man. One +is for the liver and the other for something or other, +I can't recollect what." + +"Heart?" asked Joplin. + +"I don't know." + +He didn't,--had never heard the place mentioned +until Schonholz had called its name a moment before. + +Joplin played with his knife and made an attempt +to nibble a slice of Tine's toast, but he made no reply. +All the fight of every kind seemed to have been +knocked out of him. + +"Better take Fizzenbad in, Joppy," remarked +Pudfut in an undertone. "May do you a lot of +good." + +"How far is it, Schonholz?" asked Joplin, ignoring +the Englishman's suggestion. + +"Oh, you leafe in de morgen and you come by +Fizzenbad in a day more as do one you go oud mid." + +"No--can't afford it." + +Here Joplin pushed back his chair, and with the +remark that he thought he would go downtown for +some colors, left the room. + +"It's working like a dose of salts," cried Pudfut +when the Bostonian was out of hearing. "Hasn't +said 'epigastric nerve,' 'gram' or 'proteids' once. +Got real human in an hour. Stebbins, you're a +wonder." + +The next morning everybody was up bright and +early to see Schonholz off. One of Fop Smit's packets +was to leave for Rotterdam at seven and Schonholz +was a passenger. He could go by rail, but the boat +was cheaper. No deceptions had been practised and +no illusions indulged in as to the cause of his departure. +He had had his supplies cut off, was flat broke +and as helpless as a plant without water. They had +all, at one time or another, passed through a similar +crisis and knew exactly what it meant. A purse, of +course, could have been made up--Marny even insisted +on sharing his last hundred francs with him-- +and Mynheer would have allowed the board-bill to +run on indefinitely with or without an addition to +his collection, but the lad was not built along those +lines. + +"No--I go home and help mine fader once a leetle, +den maybe I come back, don't it?" was the way he +put it. + +The next morning, when the procession formed to +escort him through the Old Gate, every man answered +to his name except Joplin--he had either overslept +himself or was taking an extra soak in his portable +tub. + +"Run, Tine, and call Mr. Joplin," cried Marny-- +"we'll go ahead. Tell him to come to the dock." + +Away clattered the sabots up the steep stairs, and +away they scurried down the bare corridor to Joplin's +room. There Tine knocked. Hearing no response +she pushed open the door and looked in. The +room was empty! Then she noticed that the bed had +not been slept in, nor had anything on the washstand +been used. Stepping in softly for some explanation +of the unusual occurrence--no such thing had ever +happened in her experience, not unless she had been +notified in advance--her eye rested on a letter addressed +to Stebbins propped up in full view against a +book on Joplin's table. Catching it up as offering +the only explanation of his unaccountable disappearance, +she raced downstairs and, crossing the cobbles +on a run, laid the letter in Stebbins's hand. + +"For me, Tine?" + +The girl nodded, her eyes on the painter's. + +The painter broke the seal and his face grew +serious. Then he beckoned to Marny and read the +contents aloud, the others crowding close: + +Dear Stebbins: + +Keep my things until I send for them. I take the night train +for Rotterdam. Tell Schonholz I'll join him there and go on +with him to Fizzenbad. Sorry to leave this way, but I could +not bear to bid you all good-by. Joplin. + + + + +III + + + +That night the table was one prolonged uproar. +The conspirators had owned up frankly to their share +of the villany, and were hard at work concocting +plans for its undoing. Marny was the one man in +the group that would not be pacified; nothing that +either Pudfut, Stebbins or Malone had said or could +say changed his mind--and the discussion, which had +lasted all day, brought him no peace. + +"Drove him out!--that's what you did, you bull- +headed Englishman--you and Malone and Stebbins +ought to be ashamed of yourselves. If I had known +what you fellows were up to I'd have pitched you all +over the dike. Cost Joppy a lot of money and break +up all his summer work! What did you want to guy +him like that for and send him off to be scalded and +squirted on in a damned Dutch--" + +"But we didn't think he'd take it as hard as +that." + +"You didn't, didn't you! What DID you think +he'd do? Didn't you see how sensitive and nervous +he was? The matter with you fellows is that Joppy +is a thoroughbred and you never saw one of his kind +in your life. Ever since he got here you've done +nothing but jump all over him and try to rile him, +and he never squawked once--came up smiling every +time. He's a thoroughbred--that's what he is!" + +The days that followed were burdened with a sadness +the coterie could not shake off. Whatever they +had laughed at and derided in Joplin they now longed +for. The Bostonian may have been a nuisance in one +way, but he had kept the ball of conversation rolling +--had started it many times--and none of the others +could fill his place. Certain of his views became respected. +"As dear old Joppy used to say," was a +common expression, and "By Jove, he was right!" +not an uncommon opinion. In conformity with his +teachings, Marny reduced his girth measure an inch +and his weight two pounds--not much for Marny, +but extraordinary all the same when his appetite was +considered. + +Pudfut, in contrition of his offence, wrote his English +friend Lord Something-or-other, who owned the +yacht, and who was at Carlsbad, begging him to run +up and see the "best ever" and "one of us"--and +Malone never lost an opportunity to say how quick he +was in repartee, or how he missed him. Stebbins +kept his mouth shut. + +He had started the crusade, he knew, and was +personally responsible for the result. He had tried +to arouse Joplin's obstinacy and had only aroused his +fears. All he could do in reparation was to keep in +touch with the exile and pave the way for his homecoming. +If Joppy was ill, which he doubted, some +of the German experts in whom the Bostonian believed +would find the cause and the remedy. If he +was "sound as a nut," to quote Joplin's own words, +certainty of that fact, after an exhaustive examination +by men he trusted, would relieve his nervous +mind and make him all the happier. + +The first letter came from Schonholz. Liberally +translated, with the assistance of Mynheer, who spoke +a little German, it conveyed the information that the +Bostonian, after being put on a strict diet, had been +douched, pounded and rubbed; was then on his second +week of treatment; had one more to serve; was +at the moment feeling like a fighting-cock, and after +a fifth week at Stuckbad, in the mountains, where +he was to take the after-cure, would be as strong as +a three-year-old, and as frisky. + +The second letter was from Joplin himself and +was addressed to Stebbins. This last was authentic, +and greatly relieved the situation. It read: + +Nothing like a thoroughly trained expert, my dear Stebbins. +These German savants fill me with wonder. The moment Dr. +Stuffen fixed his eyes upon me he read my case like an open +book. No nitrogenous food of any kind, was his first verdict; hot +douches and complete rest packed in wet compresses, the next. +I am losing flesh, of course, but it is only the "deadwood" of the +body, so to speak. This Dr. Stuffen expects to replace with new +shoots--predicts I will weigh forty pounds more--a charming and, +to me, a most sane theory. You will be delighted also to hear +that my epigastric nerve hasn't troubled me since I arrived. +Love to the boys, whom I expect to see before the month is out. +Joppy. + + +"Forty pounds heavier!" cried Marny from his +end of the table. "He'll look like a toy balloon in +knee pants. Bully for Joppy! I wouldn't let any +Schweizerkase with a hot douche get within a hundred +yards of me, but then I'm not a bunch of nerves +like Joppy. Anyhow, boys, we'll give the lad a welcome +that will raise the roof. Joppy thin was pretty +good fun, but Joppy fat will be a roaring farce." + +And so it was decided, and at once all sorts and +kinds of welcomes were discussed, modified, rearranged +and discussed again. Pudfut suggested meeting +him in Rotterdam and having a night of it. +Malone thought of chartering a steam launch, hiring +a band and bringing him past the towns with flags +flying. Stebbins and Marny favored some demonstration +nearer home, where everybody could join in. + +The programme finally agreed upon included a +pathway of boughs strewn with wild flowers from the +steamboat landing, across the planking, over the cobbles, +under the old Gate of William of Orange, and +so on to the door of the inn; the appointment of Tine, +dressed in a Zeeland costume belonging to her grand- +mother, as special envoy, to meet him with a wreath +of laurel, and Johann in short clothes--also heirlooms +--was to walk by his side as First Groom of the +Bed Chamber. + +The real Reception Committee, consisting of +Mynheer in a burgomaster suit borrowed from a +friend, and the four painters--Marny as a Dutch +Falstaff, Pudfut as a Spanish Cavalier, Stebbins got +up as a Night Watch, and Malone in the costume +of a Man-at-Arms--all costumes loaned for the occasion +by the antiquary in the next street--were to +await Joplin's coming in the privacy of the Gate-- +almost a tunnel--and so close to the door of the inn +that it might have passed for a part of the establishment +itself. + +Meantime the four painters were to collect +material for the decoration of the coffee-room-- +wreaths of greens over the mantel and festoons of ivy +hanging down the back of Joplin's chair being prominent +features; while Mynheer, Tine and Johann were +to concentrate their energies in preparing a dinner +the like of which had never been eaten since the +sluiceways in the dikes drowned out the Spanish +duke. Not a word of all this, of course, had reached +the ears of the Bostonian. Half, three-quarters, if +not all, the enjoyment of the occasion would be +realized when they looked on Joplin's face and read +his surprise. + + + + +IV + + + +The eventful day at last arrived. Stebbins, as prearranged, +had begged the exile to telegraph the exact +hour of his departure and mode of travel from Rotterdam, +suggesting the boat as being by far the best, +and Joplin had answered in return that Fop Smit's +packet, due at sundown the following day, would +count him among its passengers. + +The deep tones of the whistle off Papendrecht sent +every man to his post, the villagers standing back in +amazement at the extraordinary spectacle, especially +at Tine and Johann in their queer clothes, who, being +instantly recognized, were plied with questions. + +The boat slowed down; made fast; out came the +gangplank; ashore went the little two-wheel carts +drawn by the sleepy, tired dogs; then the baskets of +onions were rolled off, and the few barrels of freight, +and then two or three passengers--among them a +small, feeble man, in a long coat reaching to his +heels--made their way to the dock. + +NO JOPPY!! + +"That's the last man to come ashore here," said +Marny. "What's become of the lad?" + +"Maybe he's gone aft," cried Stebbins; "maybe--" + +Here Tine gave a little scream, dropped her wreath +and running toward the small, feeble man, threw +her arms around his neck. Marny and the others +bounded over the cobbles, tossing the bystanders out +of the way as they forged ahead. When they reached +Joplin he was still clinging to Tine, his sunken +cheeks and hollow deep-set eyes telling only too +plainly how great an effort he was making to keep on +his legs. The four painters formed a close bodyguard +and escorted their long-lost brother to the inn. + +Mynheer, in his burgomaster suit, met the party +at the door, conducted them inside and silently drew +out the chairs at the coffee-room table. He was too +overcome to speak. + +Joplin dropped into the one hung with ivy and +rested his hands on the table. + +"Lord! how good it is to get here!" he said, +gazing about him, a tremble in his voice. "You don't +know what I've gone through, boys." + +"Why, we thought you were getting fat, Joppy," +burst out Marny at last. Up to this time his voice, +like that of the others, seemed to have left him, so +great was his surprise and anxiety. + +Joplin waved his forefinger toward Marny in a +deprecatory way, as if the memory of his experience +was too serious for discussion, played with his fork +a moment, and said slowly: + +"Will you lay it up against me, fellows, if I tell +you the truth? I'm not as strong as I was and a +good deal of the old fight is out of me." + +"Lay up nothin'!" cried Malone. "And when it +comes to fightin' ye kin count on me every--" + +"Dry up!" broke in Marny. "You're way off, +Malone. No, Joppy, not a man here will open his +head: say the rest." + +"Well, then, listen," continued the Bostonian. "I +did everything they told me: got up at daylight; +walked around the spring seven times; sipped the +water; ate what they prescribed; lay in wet sheets +two hours every day; was kneaded by a man with a +chest as hairy as a satyr's and arms like a blacksmith's; +stood up and was squirted at; had everything +about me looked into--even stuck needles in my arm +for a sample of my blood; and at the end of three +weeks was so thin that my trousers had to be lapped +over in the back under a leather strap to keep them +above my hips, and my coat hung down as if it were +ashamed of me. Doctor Stuffen then handed me a +certificate and his bill. This done he stood me up +and repeated this formula--has it printed--all +languages: + +"'You have now thrown from your system every +particle of foul tissues, Mr.--, ah, yes--Mr. Joblin, +I believe.' And he looked at the paper. 'You +thought you were reasonably fat, Mr. Joblin. You +were not fat, you were merely bloated. Go now to +Stuckbad for two weeks. There you will take the +after-cure; keep strictly to the diet, a list of which +I now hand you. At the expiration of that time you +will be a strong man. Thank you--my secretary will +send you a receipt.' + +"Well, I went to Stuckbad--crawled really--put +up at the hotel and sent for the resident doctor, Professor +Ozzenbach, Member of the Board of Pharmacy +of Berlin, Specialist on Nutrition, Fellow of the +Royal Society of Bacteriologists, President of the +Vienna Association of Physiological Research--that +kind of man. He looked me all over and shook his +head. He spoke broken English--badly. + +"'Who has dreated you, may I ask, Meester +Boblin?' + +"'Doctor Stuffen, at Fizzenbad.' + +"'Ah, yes, a fery goot man, but a leedle de times +behindt. Vat did you eat?' + +"I handed him the list. + +"'No vonder dot you are thin, my frent--yoost +as I oxpected--dis ees de olt deory of broteids. Dot +is all oxbloded now. Eef you haf stay anuder mont +you vould be dead. Everyting dot he has dold you +vas yoost de udder way; no bread, no meelk, no vegebubbles +--noddings of dis, not von leedle bit. I vill +make von leest--come to-morrow.'" + +"Did you go, Joppy?" inquired Stebbins. + +"DID _I_ GO? Yes, back to the depot and on to +Cologne. That night I ate two plates of sauerkraut, +a slice of pork and a piece of cheese the size of my +hand; slept like a top." + +"So the proteids and carbohydrates didn't do your +epigastric any good, old chap," remarked Pudfut in +an effort to relieve the gloom. + +"Proteids, carbohydrates and my epigastric be +damned," exploded Joplin. "On your feet, boys, all +of you. Here's to the food of our fathers, with every +man a full plate. And here's to dear old Marny, the +human kangaroo. May his appetite never fail and +his paunch never shrink!" + + + + +MISS BUFFUM'S NEW BOARDER + + + +I + + + +He was seated near the top end of Miss Buffum's +table when I first saw his good-natured face with its +twinkling eyes, high cheekbones and broad, white +forehead in strong contrast to the wizened, almost +sour, visage of our landlady. Up to the time of his +coming every one had avoided that end, or had gradually +shifted his seat, gravitating slowly toward the +bottom, where the bank clerk, the college professor +and I hobnobbed over our soup and boiled mutton. + +It was his laugh that attracted my attention--the +first that had come from the upper end of the table +in the memory of the oldest boarder. Men talk of +the first kiss, the first baby, the first bluebird in the +spring, but to me, who have suffered and know, the +first, sincere, hearty laugh, untrammelled and unlimited, +that rings down the hide-bound table of a +dismal boarding-house, carries with it a surprise and +charm that outclasses them all. The effect on this +occasion was like the opening of a window letting in +a gust of pure air. Some of the more sensitive +shivered at its freshness, and one woman raised her +eyeglasses in astonishment, but all the rest craned +their heads in the new boarder's direction, their +faces expressing their enjoyment. As for Miss Buffum +and the schoolmistress, they so far forgot themselves +as to join audibly in the merriment. + +What the secret of the man's power, or why the +schoolteacher--who sat on Miss Buffum's right-- +should have become suddenly hilarious, or how Miss +Buffum herself could be prodded or beguiled into +smiles, no one at my end of the table could understand; +and yet, as the days went by, it became more +and more evident that not only were these two cold, +brittle exteriors being slowly thawed out, but that +every one else within the sound of his seductive voice +was yielding to his influence. Stories that had lain +quiet in our minds for months for lack of a willing +or appreciative ear, or had been told behind our +hands,--small pipings most of them of club and +social gossip, now became public property, some +being bowled along the table straight at the new +boarder, who sent his own rolling back in exchange, +his big, sonorous voice filling the room as he replied +with accounts of his life in Poland among the peasants; +of his experiences in the desert; of a shipwreck +off the coast of Ceylon in which he was given up for +lost; of a trip he made across the Russian steppes in +a sleigh--each adventure ending in some strangely +humorous situation which put the table in a roar. + +None of these narratives, however, solved the mystery +of his identity or of his occupation. All our +good landlady knew was that he had driven up in a +hack one afternoon, bearing a short letter of introduction +from a former lodger--a man who had lived +abroad for the previous ten years--introducing Mr. +Norvic Bing; that after its perusal she had given +him the second-story front room, at that moment +empty--a fact that had greatly influenced her--and +that he had at once moved in. His trunks--there +were two of them--had, she remembered, been +covered with foreign labels (and still were)--all of +which could be verified by any one who had a right +to know and who would take the trouble to inspect +his room when he was out, which occurred every day +between ten in the morning and six in the afternoon, +and more often between six in the afternoon and ten +the next morning. The slight additional information +she possessed came from the former lodger's +letter, which stated that the bearer, Mr. Norvic Bing, +was a native of Denmark, that he was visiting +America for the first time, and that, desiring a place +where he could live in complete retirement, the writer +had recommended Miss Buffum's house. + +As to who he was in his own country--and he certainly +must have been some one of importance, judging +from his appearance--and what the nature of his +business, these things did not concern the dear lady +in the least. He was courteous, treated her with +marked respect, was exceedingly agreeable, and had +insisted--and this she stated was the one particular +thing that endeared him to her--had insisted on paying +his board a MONTH IN ADVANCE, instead of waiting +until the thirty days had elapsed. His excuse for +this unheard-of idiosyncrasy was that he might some +day be suddenly called away, too suddenly even to +notify her of his departure, and that he did not want +either his belongings or his landlady's mind disturbed +during his absence. + +Miss Buffum's summing up of Bing's courtesy and +affability was shared by every one at my end of the +table, although some of them differed as regarded his +origin and occupation. + +"Looks more like an Englishman than a Dane," +said the bank clerk; "although I don't know any +Danes. But he's a daisy, anyhow, and ought to have +his salary raised for being so jolly." + +"I don't agree with you," rejoined the professor. +"He is unquestionably a Scandinavian--you can see +that in the high cheekbones and flat nose. He is evidently +studying our people with a view of writing a +book. Nothing else would persuade a man of his +parts to live here. I lived in just such a place the +winter I spent in Dresden. You want to get close to +the people when you study their peculiarities. But +whoever he is, or wherever he comes from, he is a most +delightful gentleman--perfectly simple, and so sincere +that it is a pleasure to hear him talk." + +As for myself, I am ashamed to say that I did +not agree with either the bank clerk or the professor. +Although I admitted Mr. Bing's wide experience +of men and affairs, and his marvellous powers +of conversation, I could not divest myself of the conviction +that underneath it all there lay something +more than a mere desire to be either kindly or entertaining; +in fact, that his geniality, though outwardly +spontaneous, was really a cloak to hide another side +of his nature--a fog into which he retreated--and +that some day the real man would be revealed. + +I made no mention of my misgivings to any of my +fellow-boarders. My knowledge of men of his class +--brilliant conversationalists with a world-wide experience +to draw upon--was slight, and my grounds +for doubting his sincerity were so devoid of proof +that few persons would have considered them anything +but the product of a disordered mind. + +And yet I still held to my opinion. + +I had caught something, I fancied, that the others +had missed. It occurred one night after he had told +a story and was waiting for the laugh to subside. +Soon a strange, weary expression crept over his face +--the same look that comes into the face of a clown +who has been hurt in a tumble and who, while wrestling +with the pain, still keeps his face a-grin. Suddenly, +from out of his merry, smooth-shaven face, +there came a flash from his eyes so searching, so keen, +so suspicious, so entirely unlike the man we knew, so +foreign to his mood at the moment, that I instantly +thought of the burglar peering through the painted +spectacles of the family portrait while he watched +his unconscious victim counting his gold. + +This conviction so possessed me that I found +myself for days after peering into Bing's face, watching +for its repetition--so much so that the professor +asked me with a laugh: + +"Has Mr. Bing hypnotized you as badly as he has +the ladies? They hang on his every word. Curious +study of the effect of mind on matter, isn't it?" + +The second time I caught the strange flash was +BEFORE he had told his story--when his admonitory +glance--his polite way of compelling attention--was +sweeping the table. In its course his eyes rested for +an instant on mine, kindled with suspicion, and then +there flashed from their depths a light that seemed +to illuminate every corner of my brain. When I +looked again his face was wreathed in smiles, his +eyes sparkling with merriment. Instantly my doubts +returned with redoubled force. What had he found +in that instantaneous flash, I wondered? Had he +read my thoughts, or had he, from his place behind +the painted canvas, caught some expression on some +victim's face which had roused his fears? + +Then a delightful thing happened to me. I was but +a young fellow trying to get a foothold in literature, +who had never been out of his own country, and who +spoke no tongue but his own; he was a man of the +world, a traveller over the globe and speaking five +languages. + +"If you're not going out," he said, that same night, +"come and have a smoke with me." This in his +heartiest manner, laying his hand on my shoulder as +he spoke. "You'll find me in my room. I've some +books that may interest you, and we can continue our +talk by my coal-fire. Come with me now." + +We had had no special talk--none that I could +remember. I recalled that I had asked him an irrelevant +question after the flash had vanished, and that +he had answered me in return--but no talk followed. + +"I never invite any one up here," he began when +we reached his room; "the place is so small" +Here he closed the door, drew up the only armchair +in the room and placed me in it--"but it is large +enough for a place to crawl into and sleep--much +larger, I can tell you, than I have had in many other +parts of the world. I can write here, too, without +interruption. What else do we want, really?--To +be warm, to be fed and then to have some congenial +spirits about us! I am quite happy, I assure you, +with all those dear, good people downstairs. They +are so kind, and they are so human, and they are all +honest, each in his way, which is always refreshing +to me. Most people, you know, are not honest." +And he looked me over curiously. + +I made no answer except to nod my assent. My +eyes were wandering over the room in the endeavor +to find something to confirm my suspicions--over the +two trunks with their labels; over a desk littered, +piled, crammed with papers; over the mantel, on +which was spread a row of photographs, among them +the portrait of a distinguished-looking woman with +a child resting in her lap, and next to it that of a man +in uniform. + +"Yes--some of my friends across the sea." I had +not asked him--he had read my mind. "This one +you did not see--I keep it behind the others--three +of them, like a little pair of steps--all I have left. +The oldest is named Olga, and that little one in the +middle, with the cap on her head--that is Pauline." + +"Your children?" + +"Yes." + +"Where are they?" + +"Oh, many thousand miles from here! But we +won't talk about it. They are well and happy. And +this one"--here he took down the photograph of the +man in full uniform--"is the Grand Duke Vladimir. +Yes, a soldierly-looking man--none of the others are +like him. But come now, tell me of yourself--you +have some one at home, too?" + +I nodded my head and mentioned my mother and +the others at home. + +"No sweetheart yet? No?--You needn't answer +--we all have sweethearts at your age--at mine +it is all over. But why did you leave her? It is so +hard to do that. Ah, yes, I see--to make your bread. +And how do you do it?" + +"I write." + +He lowered his brows and looked at me under +his lids. + +"What sort of writing? Books? What is called +a novel?" + +"No--not yet. I work on special articles for the +newspapers, and now and then I get a short story +or an essay into one of the magazines." + +He was replacing the pictures as I talked, his back +to me. He turned suddenly and again sought my eye. + +"Don't waste your time on essays or statistics. +You will not succeed as a machine. You have imagination, +which is a real gift. You also dream, which +is another way of saying that you can invent. If you +can add construction to your invention, you will come +quite close to what they call genius. I saw all this +in your face to-night; that is why I wanted to talk +to you. So many young men go astray for want of a +word dropped into their minds at the right time. As +for me, all I know is statistics, and so I will never be +a genius." And a light laugh broke from his lips. +"Worse luck, too. I must exchange them for money. +Look at this--I have been all day correcting the +proofs." + +With this he walked to his table--he had not yet +taken a seat, although a chair was next to my own-- +and laid in my lap a roll of galley-proofs. + +"It is the new encyclopaedia. I do the biographies, +you see--principally of men and the different towns +and countries. I have got down now to the R's-- +Richelieu--Rochambeau--" his fingers were now +tracing the lines. "Here is Romulus, and here is +Russia--I gave that half a column, and--dry work, +isn't it? But I like it, for I can write here by my +fire if I please, and all my other time is my own. +You see they are signed 'Norvic Bing.' I insisted +on that. These publishers are selfish sometimes, and +want to efface a writer's personality, but I would not +permit it, and so finally they gave in. But no more +of that--one must eat, and to eat one must work, so +why quarrel with the spade or the ground? See that +you raise good crops--that is the best of all." + +Then he branched off into a description of a ball +he had attended some years before at the Tuileries-- +of the splendor of the interior; the rich costumes of +the women; the blaze of decorations worn by the men; +the graciousness of the Empress and the charm of +her beauty--then of a visit he had made to the Exile +a few months after he had reached Chiselhurst. +Throwing up his hands he said: "A feeble old man +with hollow eyes and a cracked voice. Oh, such a +pity! For he was royal--although all Europe +laughed." + +When the time came for me to go--it was near midnight, +to my astonishment--he followed me to the +door, bidding me good-night with both hands over +mine, saying I should come again when he was at +leisure, as he had been that night--which I promised +to do, adding my thanks for what I declared was the +most delightful evening I had ever spent in my life. + +And it had been--and with it there had oozed out +of my mind every drop of my former suspicion. +There was another side that he was hiding from us, +but it was the side of tenderness for his children-- +for those he loved and from whom he was parted. +I had boasted to myself of my intuition and had +looked, as I supposed, deep into his heart, and all I +found were three little faces. With this came a certain +feeling of shame that I had been stupid enough +to allow my imagination to run away with my judgment. +Hereafter I would have more sense. + +All that winter Bing was the life of the house. +The days on which his seat was empty--off getting +statistics for the encyclopaedia, I explained to my +fellow-boarders, I being looked upon now as having +special information owing to my supposed intimacy, +although I had never entered his room since that +night--on these days, I say, the table relapsed into +its old-time dullness. + +One night I found his card on my pin-cushion. I +always locked my door myself when I left my room-- +had done so that night, I thought, but I must have +forgotten it. Under his name was written: "Say +good-by to the others." + +I concluded, of course, that it was but for a few +days and that he would return as usual, and hold out +his two big generous hands to each one down the +table, leaving a warmth behind him which they had +not known since he last pressed their palms--and so +on down until he reached Miss Buffum and the school- +teacher, who would both rise in their seats to welcome +him. + +With the passing of the first week the good lady +became uneasy; the board, as usual, had been paid in +advance, but it was the man she missed. No one +else could add the drop of oil to the machinery of the +house, nor would it run smoothly without him. + +At the end of the second week she rapped at my +door and with trembling steps led me to Bing's room. +She had opened it with her own pass-key--a liberty +she never allowed any one to take except herself, and +never then unless some emergency arose. It was +empty of everything that belonged to him--had been +for days. The room had been set in order and the +bed had been made up by the maid the day he left +and had not been slept in since. Trunks, books, +manuscripts, photographs--all were gone--not a vestige +of anything belonging to him was visible. + +I stooped down and examined the grate. On the +top of the dead coals lay a little heap of ashes--all +that was left of a package of letters. + + + + +II + + + +Five years passed. Times had changed with me. +I had long since left my humble quarters at Miss +Buffum's and now had two rooms in an uptown apartment +-house. My field of work, too, had become enlarged. +I had ceased to write for the Sunday papers +and was employed on special articles for the magazines. +This had widened my acquaintance with men +and with life. Heretofore I had known the dark +alleys and slums, the inside of station-houses, bringing +me in contact with the police and with some of the +detectives, among them Alcorn of the Central Office, +a man who had sought me out of his own accord. +Many of these trusted me and from them I gathered +much of my material. Now I explored other fields. +With the backing of the editor I often claimed seats +at the opening of important conventions--not so much +political as social and scientific; so, too, at many of +the public dinners given to our own and distinguished +foreign guests, would a seat be reserved for me, my +object being the study of men when they were off their +guard--reading their minds, finding out the man +behind the mask, a habit I had never yet thrown off. +Most men have some mental fad--this was mine. +Sometimes my articles found an echo in a note written +to me by the guests themselves; this would fill +me with joy. Often I was criticised for the absurdity +of my views. + +On this occasion a great banquet was to be given +to Prince Polinski, a nephew of the Czar and possible +heir to the throne. The press had been filled with the +detail of his daily life--of the dinners, teas and functions +given by society in his honor; of his reception +by the mayor, of his audience at the White House; +of the men who guarded his person; of his "opinions," +"impressions" and "views" on this, that and +the other thing, but so far no one had dissected the +man himself. + +What our editor wanted was a minute analysis of +the mind of a young Russian studied at close range. +The occasion of the banquet was selected because +I could then examine him at my leisure. The +results were to be used by the editor in an article +of his own, my memoranda being only so much +padding. + +When I entered and took up a position near the +door where I could look him over, Delmonico's largest +reception-room was crowded with guests: bankers, +railroad presidents, politicians, officers of the army +and navy, judges, doctors, and the usual collection of +white shirt-fronts that fill the seats at a public dinner +of this kind. The Prince was in the uniform of an +officer of the Imperial Navy. He was heavily built +and tall, with a swarthy face enlivened by a pointed +mustache. The Russian Ambassador at his side was +in full dress and wore a number of decorations: these +two needed no pointing out. Some of the others +were less distinguishable-among them a heavily- +built man in evening-dress, with a full beard and +mustache which covered his face almost to his eyes-- +soft and bushy as the hair on a Spitz dog and as +black. With a leather apron and a broad-axe he +would have passed at a masquerade for an executioner +of the olden time. Despite this big beard, there was +a certain bearing about the man--a certain elegance +both of manner and gesture--talking with his hands, +accentuating his sentences with outstretched fingers, +lifting his shoulders in a shrug (I saw all this from +across the room where I stood)--that showed clearly +not only his high position, but his breeding. What +position he held under the Prince I was, of course, +unaware, but it must have been very close, for the +big Russian kept him constantly at the royal side. I +noted, too, that the Prince was careful to introduce +him to many who were brought up to shake his +hand. + +When the procession was formed to march into +the dining-hall, Polinski came first on the arm of +the mayor; then followed a group of dignitaries, +including the Ambassadors, the black-bearded man +walking by the side of the Prince, who would now +and then turn and address him. + +My seat was against the wall opposite the dais, +and knowing that I should have scant opportunity +to study the Prince's face from where I sat, I edged +my way along the side of the corridor, the crowd +making progress difficult for him, but easy for me, +as I crept close to the wall. When I reached the door +opening into the banquet hall I took up a position +just inside the jamb, so that I could get a full view of +the Prince as he passed. + +At this instant I became aware that a pair of broad +shoulders were touching mine. Turning quickly, I +found myself looking into the face of the bearded +Russian. His eyes were fastened on mine, an inquiring, +rather surprised look on his face, as if he was +wondering at the bad manners of a man who would +thrust himself ahead of a royal personage. For an +instant the features were calm and impassive, then as +he continued to look at me there flashed out of his eyes +a search-light glance that shot straight through me. + +It was Bing! + +Bearded like a Cossack; more heavily built, solemn, +dignified, elegant in carriage and demeanor, +with not a trace of jollity about him--but Bing all +the same! I could have sworn to it! + +The flash burned for an instant; the eyes behind +the canvas dodged back, then with a graceful wave +of the hand he turned to the Ambassador who was +now abreast of him and said in a voice so low that +I caught the words but not the full tone: + +"Isn't it a charming sight, your Excellency? +There is nothing like the hospitality of these wonderful +Americans." And the two passed into the +brilliantly-lighted hall. + +I made my way to my seat and sat thinking it over. +That he had recognized me was without question; +that he had ignored me was equally true--why, I +could not tell. + +For years I had made him one of my heroes. He +had stood for cheerfulness, for contentment with one's +lot, for consideration for another--and always a +weaker brother. When his abrupt departure had been +criticised by my fellow-boarders, I had stemmed the +tide against him, dilating on his love for his children, +on his loneliness away from them; on his +simplicity, his common-sense, his desire to help even +a young fellow like me who had no claim upon him. +In return he had seen fit to treat me with contempt +--I who would have been so proud to tell him how +his advice had helped me and what progress I had +made by following it. + +The incident took such hold upon me that I found +myself dissecting his mentality instead of that of the +Great Personage in the public eye. As I analyzed +my feelings I found that he had hurt my heart +more than my pride. I would have been so glad +to shake his hand--so glad to rejoice with him +over his changed conditions--once the occupant of a +front room in a cheap boarding-house, supporting +himself by filling space in the columns of an encyclopaedia, +and now the bosom friend of Princes and +Ambassadors! + +Then a doubt arose in my mind. WAS it Bing? +Had I not made a mistake? How could a smooth- +shaven Dane with blond hair transform himself +into a swarthy Russian with the beard of a Cossack? +There was, it is true, no change in the eyes or in the +round head--in the whiteness and width of the forehead, +or the breadth of the shoulders. All these I +went over one by one as I watched him every now +and then lean across the table and speak to some of +the distinguished guests that surrounded him. The +thing which puzzled me was his grave, sedate +demeanor, dignified, almost austere at times. A man, +I thought, might grow a beard and dye it, but how +could he grow a different set of manners, how +smother his jollity, how wipe out his spontaneous +buoyancy? + +No, it was not Bing! It was only my stupid self. +I was always ready to find the mysterious and +unnatural. I turned to the guest next me. + +"Do you know who that man is on the dais," I +asked; "the one all black and white, with the big +beard?" + +"Yes, one of the Prince's suite; some jaw-breaking +name with an '-usski' on the end of it. He +brought him with him; looks like a bull pup chewing +a muff, doesn't he?" + +I smiled at the comparison, but I was still in doubt. + +When the banquet broke up I hurried out ahead of +the others and posted myself at the top of the staircase +leading down to the side door of the street. The +Prince's carriage--an ordinary cab--was ordered to +this door to escape the crowd and to avoid any delay. +This I learned from my old friend Alcorn of the +Central Office, who was in charge of the detectives at +the dinner, and who in answer to my request said: + +"Certainly I'll let you through. Come alone, and +don't speak to me as you go by. I'll say you're one +of us. The crowd thinks he's going out by the other +door, and you can get pretty close to him." + +The Prince came first, wrapped in furs--the black- +bearded Russian at his side in overcoat, silk hat and +white gloves. The Ambassador and the others had +bidden them good-night at the top of the staircase. + +Under Alcorn's direction I had placed myself just +inside the street door where I could slip out behind +the Prince and his black-bearded companion. As a +last resort I determined to walk straight up to him +and say: "You haven't forgotten me, Mr. Bing, have +you?" If I had changed so as to need proof of my +identity Alcorn would furnish it. Whatever his +answer, his voice would solve my mystery. + +He walked down the stairs with an easy, swinging +movement, keeping a little behind the Prince; waited +until Alcorn had opened the street door and with a +nod of thanks followed Polinski out into the night. +Once outside I shrank back into the shadow of the +doorway and held my breath to catch his first spoken +word--to the coachman--to the Prince--to any one +who came in his way. + +At this moment a man in a slouch hat and poorly +dressed, a light cane under his arm, evidently a +tramp, hurried across the street to hold the cab door. +I edged nearer, straining my ears. + +The Prince bent his head and stooped to enter the +cab. The tramp leaned forward, shot up his right +arm; there came a flash of steel, and the next instant +the tramp lay writhing on the sidewalk, one hand +twisted under his back, the other held in the viselike +grip of the black-bearded man. Alcorn rushed past +me, threw himself on the prostrate tramp, slipped +a pair of handcuffs over his wrists, dragged him to his +feet, and with one hand on his throat backed him into +the shadow of the side door. + +The Prince smiled and stepped into his carriage. +The black-bearded man dusted his white gloves one +on the other, gave an order in a low tone to the coachman, +took his place beside his companion and the two +drove off. + +I stood out in the rain and tried to pull myself +together. The rapidity of the attack; the poise and +strength of the black-bearded Russian; the quickness +with which Alcorn had risen to the occasion; the +absence of all outcry or noise of any kind--no one +but ourselves witnessing the occurrence--had taken +my breath away. That an attack had been made on +the life of the Prince, and that it had been frustrated +by his friend, was evident. It was also evident that +accosting a Prince on the sidewalk at night without +previous acquaintance was a dangerous experiment. +When I recovered my wits both Alcorn and the +would-be assassin had disappeared. So had the cab. + +Only two morning journals had an account of the +affair; one dismissed it with a fling at the police for +not protecting our guests from annoyance, and the +other stated that a drunken tramp had demanded the +price of a night's lodging from the Prince as he was +leaving Delmonico's, and that a member of the +Prince's suite had held the fellow until a policeman +came along and took him to the station-house. Not a +word of the murderous lunge, the flash of steel, the +viselike grip of the black-bearded man or the click +of the handcuffs. + +That night I found Alcorn. + +"Did that fellow try to stab the Prince?" I asked. + +"Yes." + +"With a knife?" + +"No, a sword cane." + +"The papers didn't say so." + +"No, I didn't intend they should. Wouldn't have +been pleasant reading for his folks in St. Petersburg. +Besides, we haven't rounded up his gang yet." + +"The Prince didn't seem to lose his nerve?" I +asked. + +"No, he isn't built that way." + +"You know him, then?" + +"Yes--been with him every day since he arrived." + +"Who is the black-bearded man with him?" + +"He is his intimate friend, Count Lovusski. Been +all over the world together." + +"Is Lovusski his ONLY name?" This seemed to +be my chance. + +Alcorn turned quickly and looked into my face. + +"On the dead quiet, is it?" + +"Yes, Alcorn, you can trust me." + +"No--he's got half a dozen of 'em. In Paris in +'70 he was Baron Germunde with estates in Hungary. +Lived like a fighting-cock; knew everybody at the +Palace and everybody knew him--stayed there all +through the Franco-Prussian War. In London in +'75 he was plain Mr. Loring, trying to raise money +for a mine somewhere in Portugal--knew nobody +but stockbrokers and bank presidents. In New York +five years ago he was Mr. Norvic Bing, and worked +on some kind of a dictionary; lived in a boarding- +house on Union Square." + +I could not conceal my delight. + +"I knew I was right!" I cried, laying my hand on +his arm. "I lived with him there a whole winter." + +"Yes, he told me so. That's why I am telling you +the rest of it." Alcorn was smiling, a curious expression +lighting his face. + +"And how came he to be such a friend of the +Prince's?" I asked. + +"He isn't his friend--isn't anybody's friend. +He's a special agent of the Russian Secret Service." + + + + +CAPTAIN JOE AND THE SUSIE ANN + + + +Wide of beam, stout of mast, short-bowspritted, +her boom clewed up to clear her deck load of rough +stone; drawing ten feet aft and nine feet for'ard; a +twelve-horse hoisting engine and boiler in her forecastle; +at the tiller a wabbly-jointed, halibut-shaped, +moon-faced (partially eclipsed, owing to a fringe of +dark whiskers), sleepy-eyed skipper named Baxter,-- +such was the sloop Susie Ann, and her outfit and her +commander, as she lay alongside the dock in New +London Harbor, ready to discharge her cargo at the +site of Shark Ledge Lighthouse, eight miles seaward. + +On the dock itself, over a wharf post sprawled +her owner, old Abram Marrows, a thin, long, badly +put together man, awkward as a stepladder and as +rickety, who, after trying everything from farming +to selling a patent churn, had at last become a shipowner, +the Susie Ann, comprising his entire fleet. +Marrows had come to see her off; this being the +sloop's first trip for the season. + +Lying outside the Susie Ann--her lines fast to +an off-shore spile, was the construction tug of the +lighthouse gang, the deck strewn with diving gear, +water casks and the like,--all needed in the furthering +of the work at the ledge. On the tug's forward +deck, hat off and jacket swinging loose, stood Captain +Joe Bell in charge of the submarine work at the site, +glorious old Captain Joe, with the body of a capstan, +legs stiff as wharf posts, arms and hands tough as +cant hooks and heart twice as big as all of them put +together. + +Each and every piece of stone,--some of them +weighed seven tons,--stowed aboard the Susie Ann, +was, when she arrived alongside the foundation of +the lighthouse, to be lowered over her side and sent +down to Captain Joe to place in thirty feet of water. +This fact made him particular both as to the kind of +vessel engaged and the ability of the skipper. Bad +seamanship might not only endanger the security +of the work but his own life as well,--a diver not +being as quick as a crab or blackfish in getting from +under a seven-ton stone dropped from tripdogs at +the signal to "lower away." + +Captain Joe's inspection of the Susie Ann's skipper +was anything but satisfactory, judging from the +way he opened his battery of protest. + +"Baxter ain't fittin', I tell ye, Abram Marrows," +he exploded. "He ain't fittin' and never will be. +Baxter don't know most nothin'. Set him to grubbin' +clams, Abram, but don't let him fool 'round the +Ledge. He'll git the sloop ashore, I tell ye, or drop +a stone and hurt somebody. Go and git a MAN som'ers +and put him in charge,--not a half-baked--" here +he lowered his muzzle and fired point-blank at the +object of his wrath,--"Yes, and I'll say it to your +face, Captain Baxter. You take my advice and lay +off for this v'yage,--it ain't no picnic out to the +Ledge. You ain't seen it since we got the stone 'bove +high water. Reg'lar mill tail! You go ashore, I +tell ye,--or ye'll lose the sloop." + +Many of the men ranged along the top of the cabin +of the tug, or perched on its rail, wondered at the +vehemence of the captain's attack, "Moon-faced +Baxter," as he was called, having a fair reputation +as a seaman. They knew, too, that Captain Joe was +aware of the condition of Marrows's affairs, for it had +been common talk that the bank had loaned Abram +several hundred dollars with the sloop as security on +the captain's own personal inspection. Some of them +had even been present when Mrs. Marrows,--a faded +old woman with bleached eyes and a pursed-up mouth, +her shawl hooding her head and pinned close under +her chin with her thumb and forefinger,--had begged +Captain Joe to try the Susie Ann for a few loads +until Abram could "ketch up," and had heard his +promise to help her. + +But they made no protest. Such outbursts on the +captain's part were but the escaping steam from the +overcharged boiler of his indignation. Underneath +lay the firebox of his heart, chock full of red-hot +coals glowing with sympathy for every soul who +needed his help. If his safety valve let go once in a +while it was to escape from greater danger. + +His long range ammunition exhausted, Captain +Joe turned on his heel and walked aft to where his +diving gear was piled, venting his indignation at +every step. This time the outburst was directed to +me,--(it was my weekly inspection at the Ledge). + +"Can't jam nothin' into his head, sir. Stubbornest +mule 'round this harbor. Warn't for that wife +o' his Abe Marrows would a-been high and dry long +ago. Every time he gits something purty good he +goes and fools it away;--sold his farm and bought +that sloop; then he clapped a plaster on it in the bank +to start a cook shop. But the wife's all right;--only +last week she come to me lookin' like she'd bu'st out +cryin',--sayin' the sloop was all they had, and I +promised her then I'd use the Susie, but she never +said nothin' 'bout Baxter being in charge, or I'd +stopped him 'fore he loaded her. Well, there ain't no +tellin' what nat'ral born fools like Abe Marrows'll +do, but it's something ornery and criss-cross if Abe +Marrows does it. That woman's worked her fingers +off for him, but he'll git her in the poor-house yit,-- +see if he don't." + +Marrows had heard every word of Captain Joe's +outburst, but he made no answer except to lift his thin +elbows and spread his fingers in a deprecatory way, as +if in protest. Baxter maintained a dogged silence;-- +the least said in answer the better. Captain Joe Bell +was not a man either to contradict or oppose;--better +let him blow it all out. Both owner and skipper determined +to take the risk. The Susie Ann had been laid +up all winter awaiting the opening of the spring work, +and the successful carrying out of the present venture +was Marrows's only escape from financial ruin, and +Baxter's only chance of getting his back wages. +There was an unpaid bill, too, for caulking, then a +year old, lying in Abram's bureau drawer, together +with an account at Mike Lavin's machine shop for +a new set of grate bars, now almost worn out. Worse +than all the bank's lien on the sloop was due in a few +weeks. What money the sloop earned, therefore, +must be earned quickly. + +And then again, Abram ruminated, Shark Ledge +wasn't the worst place on the coast,--despite Captain +Joe's warning,--especially on this particular morning, +when a light wind was blowing off shore. Plenty +of other sloops had delivered stone over their rails +to the divers below. Marrows remembered that he +had been out to the Ledge himself when the +Screamer came up into the wind and crawled slowly +up until her forefoot was within a biscuit toss of the +stone pile. + +What Marrows forgot was that Captain Bob +Brandt of Cape Ann had then held the spokes of the +Screamer's wheel,--a man who knew every twist and +turn of the treacherous tide. + +So Baxter shook out the sloop's jib and mainsail +and started on his journey eight miles seaward, with +orders to make fast on arrival to the spar buoy which +lay within a few hundred yards of the Ledge, and +there wait until the tide turned, when she could drop +into position to unload. The tug with all of us on +board would follow when we had taken on fresh water +and coal. + +On the run out Captain Joe watched the sloop +until she had made her first tack, then he turned to +his work and again busied himself in overhauling his +diving dress; tightening the set-screws in his copper +collar, re-cording his breastplate and putting new +leather thongs in his leaden shoes. There was some +stone on the sloop's deck which was needed to complete +a level down among the black fish and torn +cod,--twenty-two feet down,--where the sea kelp +streamed up in long blades above the top of his helmet +and the rock crabs scurried out of his way. If Baxter +didn't make a "tarnel fool of himself and git into +one o' them swirl-holes," he intended to get these +stones into place before night. + +He knew these "holes," as he did every other swirl +around the ledge and what they could do and what +they couldn't. They were his swirls, really,--for he +had placed every individual fragment of the obstructions +that caused them with his own hands, in thirty +feet of water. + +Some three years before the site had been marked +by a spindle bearing an iron cage and fastened to a +huge boulder known as Shark Ledge Rock, and covered +at low water. The unloading of various sloops +and schooners under his orders had enlarged this +submerged rock to a miniature island, its ragged +crest thrust above the sea. This obstruction to the +will of the wind and tide, and the ever-present six- +mile current, caused by the narrowing of Long Island +Sound in its onrush to the sea, acted as a fallen log +that blocks a mountain stream, or a boulder that +plugs a torrent. That which for centuries had been a +steady "set" every six hours east and west, had now +become a "back-and-in suck" fringed by a series of +swirling undercurrents dealing death and destruction +to the ignorant and unwary. + +Not been long since a schooner loaded with concrete +had been saved from destruction by the merest +chance, and later on a big scow caught in the swirl +had parted her buoy lines and would have landed +high and dry on the stone pile had not Captain Joe +run a hawser to her, twisted its bight around the drum +of his engine and warped her off just in time to save +her bones from sea worms. + +As the tug approached, the Ledge, looming up on +the dim horizon line, looked like a huge whale +spouting derricks, a barnacle of a shanty clinging to +its back. Soon there rose into relief the little knot of +men gathered about one of the whale's fins--our +landing stage,--and then, as we came alongside, the +welcome curl of the smoke, telling of fried pork and +saleratus biscuit. + +Captain Joe's orders now came thick and fast. + +"Hurry dinner, Nichols,"--this to the shanty +cook, who was leaning out of the galley window,-- +"And here,--three or four o' ye, git this divin' stuff +ashore, and then all hands to dinner. The wind's +ag'in Baxter,--he won't git here for an hour. +Startin' on one o' them long legs o' his'n now,"--and +the captain's eye rested on the sloop beating up +Fisher's Island way. + +"And, Billy,--'fore ye go ashore, jump into the +yawl and take a look at that snatch block on the spar +buoy,--that clam digger may want it 'fore night." + +This spar buoy lay a few hundred yards off the +Whale's Snout. Loaded vessels were moored to this +quill bob, held in place by a five-ton sinker, until +they were ready to drop into the eddy and there discharge +their stone. + +Dinner over the men fell to work, each to his job. +The derrick gang was set to shifting a boom on to the +larger derrick, the concrete mixers picked up their +shovels, and I went to work on the pay-roll of the +week. This I always figured up in the little dry- +goods box of a room opening out of the galley in the +end of our board shanty, its window looking toward +Montauk. + +As I leaned my arms on the sill for a glimpse of +the wide expanse of blue and silver, the cotton rag +that served as a curtain flapped in my face. I pushed +it aside and craned my neck north and south. The +curtain had acted as a weather vane,--the wind had +hauled to the east. + +The sky, too, had dulled. Little lumpy clouds +showed near the horizon line, and, sailing above these, +hung a dirt spot of vapor, while aloft glowed some +prismatic sundogs, shimmering like opals. Etched +against the distance, with a tether line fastened to the +spar buoy, lay the Susie Ann. She had that moment +arrived and had made fast. Her sails were furled, +her boom swinging loose and ready, the smoke from +her hoister curling from the end of her smoke pipe +thrust up out of the forward hatch. + +Then I looked closer in. + +Below me, on the concrete platform, rested our +big air pump, and beside it stood Captain Joe. He +had slipped into his diving dress and was at the +moment adjusting the breastplates of lead, weighing +twenty-five pounds each, to his chest and back. His +leaden shoes were already on his feet. With the +exception of his copper helmet, the signal line around +his wrist, and the life line about his waist, he was +ready to go under water. + +Pretty soon he would don his helmet, and, with +a last word to Jimmy, his tender, would tuck his chin +whisker inside the round opening, wait until the face +plate was screwed on, and then, with a cheerful nod +behind the glass, denoting that his air was coming all +right, would step down his rude ladder into the sea,-- +down,--down,--down to his place among the crabs +and the seaweed. + +Suddenly my ears became conscious of a conversation +carried on in a low tone around the corner of the +shanty. + +"Old Moon-face'll have to git up and git in a +minute," said a derrick man to a shoveller,--born +sailors, these,--"there'll be a red-hot time 'round +here 'fore night." + +"Well, there ain't no wind." + +"Ain't no wind,--ain't there? See that bobble +waltzin' in?" + +I looked seaward, and my eyes rested on a +ragged line of silver edging the horizon toward +Montauk. + +"Does look soapy, don't it?" answered the shoveller. +"Wonder if Cap'n Joe sees it." + +Cap'n Joe had seen it--fifteen minutes ahead of +anybody else,--had been watching it to the exclusion +of any other object. He knew the sea,--knew every +move of the merciless, cunning beast; had watched +it many a time, lying in wait for its chance to tear +and strangle. More than once had he held on to the +rigging when, with a lash of its tail, it had swept +a deck clean, or had stuck to the pumps for days +while it sucked through opening seams the life- +blood of his helpless craft. The game here would be +to lift its victim on the back of a smooth under- +roller and with mighty effort hurl it like a battering +ram against the shore rocks, shattering its timbers +into drift wood. + +"Billy," said Captain Joe to the shoveller, "go +down to the edge of the stone pile and holler to the +sloop to cast off and make for home. Hurry, now! +And, Jimmy,"--this to his pump tender,--"unhook +this breastplate,--there won't be no divin', today. +I've been mistrustin' the wind would haul ever since +I got up this mornin'." + +The shoveller sprang from the platform and began +clambering over the slippery, slimy rocks like a crab, +his red shirt marked with the white "X" of his +suspenders in relief against the blue water. When he +reached the outermost edge of the stone pile, where +the ten-ton blocks lay, he made a megaphone of his +fingers and repeated the captain's orders to the Susie +Ann. + +Baxter listened with his hands cupped to his ears. + +"Who says so?" came back the reply. + +"Cap'n Joe." + +"What fur?" + +"Goin' to blow,--don't ye see it?" + +Baxter stepped gingerly along the sloop's rail. +Obeying the order meant twenty-four hour's delay +in making sure of his wages,--perhaps a week, spring +weather being uncertain. He didn't "see no blow." +Besides, if there was one coming, it wasn't his +sloop or his stone. When he reached the foot +of the bowsprit Moon-face sent this answer over +the water: + +"Let her blow and be d--! This sloop's chartered +to deliver this stone. We've got steam up and +the stuff's goin' over outside. Get your divers ready. +I ain't shovin' no baby carriage and don't you forgit +it. I'm comin' on! Cast off that buoy line, you,"-- +this to one of his men. + +Captain Joe continued stripping off his leaden +breastplate. He had heard his order repeated and +knew that it had been given correctly,--Baxter's subsequent +proceedings did not interest him. If he +had anything to say in answer it was of no moment +to him. His word was law on the Ledge; first, because +the men daily trusted their lives to his guidance, and, +second, because they all loved him with a love hard +for a landsman to understand, especially today, when +the boss and the gang never, by any possibility, pull +together. + +"Baxter says he's comin' on, sir," said Billy, when +he reached the captain's side, the grin on his sunburnt +face widening until its two ends hooked over his ears. +Billy had heard nothing so funny for weeks. + +"Comin' on?" + +"That's what he hollered. Wants you to git ready +to take his stuff, sir." + +I was out of the shanty now. I came in two +jumps. With that squall rushing from the eastward +and the tide making flood, any man who would leave +the protection of the spar buoy for the purpose of +unloading was fit for a lunatic asylum. + +Captain Joe had straightened up and was screening +his eyes with his hand when I reached his side, +his gaze rivetted on the loosened sloop, which had now +hauled in her tether line and was drifting clear of the +buoy. The captain was still incredulous. + +"No, he ain't comin'," he said to me. "He's all +right,--he'll port his helm in a minute,--but he'd +better send up his jib"--and he swept his eye around, +--"and that quick, too." + +At this instant the sloop wavered and lurched +heavily. The outer edge of the insuck had caught +her bow. + +Men's minds work quickly in times of great danger, +--minds like Captain Joe's. In a flash he had taken +in the fast-approaching roller, froth-capped by the +sudden squall; the surging vessel and the scared face +of Baxter, who, having realized his mistake was +now clutching wildly at the tiller and shouting orders +to his men, none of which could be carried out. +Captain Joe knew what would happen,--what had +happened before, and what would happen again +with fools like Baxter,--now,--in a minute,--before +he could reach the edge of the stone pile, hampered +as he was in a rubber suit that bound his arms and +tied his great legs together. And he understood too +the sea's game, and that the only way to outwit it +would be to use the beast's own tactics. When it +gathered itself for the thrust and started in to hurl +the doomed vessel the full length of its mighty arms, +the sloop's only safety lay in widening the space. A +cushion of backwater would then receive the sloop's +forefoot in place of the snarling teeth of low crunching +rocks. + +He had kicked off both shoes by this time and was +shouting out directions to Baxter, who was slowly +and surely being sucked into the swirl:-- + +"Up with your jib! No,--NO! Let that mainsail +alone! UP! Do ye want to git her on the stone +pile, you? Port your helm! PORT! O GOD!-- +Look at him!!" + +Captain Joe had slid from the platform now and +was flopping his great body over the slimy, slippery +rocks like a seal, falling into water holes every other +step, crawling out on his belly, rolling from one slanting +stone to another, shouting to his men, every time +he had the breath:-- + +"Man that yawl and run a line as quick as God'll +let ye--out to the buoy! Do ye hear? Pull that +fall off the drum of the h'ister and git the end of a +line on it! She'll be on top of us in a minute and +the mast out of her! QUICK!" + +Jimmy sprang for a coil of rope; Billy and the +others threw themselves after him; while half a dozen +men working around the small eddy in the lee of the +diminutive island caught up the oars and made a +dash for the yawl. + +All this time the sloop, under the uplift of the first +big Montauk roller,--the skirmish line of the attack, +--surged, bow on, to destruction. Baxter, although +shaking with fear, had sense enough left to keep her +nose pointed to the stone pile. The mast might come +out of her, but that was better than being gashed +amidships and sunk in thirty feet of water. + +Captain Joe, his rubber suit wet and glistening +as a shiny porpoise, his hair matted to his head, had +now reached the outermost rock opposite the doomed +craft, and stood near enough to catch every expression +that crossed Baxter's face, who, white as chalk, was +holding the tiller with all his strength, cap off, his +blousy hair flying in the increasing gale, his mouth +tight shut. Go ashore she must. It would be every +man for himself then. No help would come,--no +help COULD come. Captain Joe and his men would +run for shelter as soon as the blow fell, and leave +them to their fate. Men like Baxter are built to think +this way. + +All these minutes--seconds, really,--Captain Joe +stood bending forward, watching where the sloop +would strike, his hands outstretched in the attitude +of a ball-player awaiting a ball. If her nose should +hit the sharp, square edges of one of the ten-ton +blocks, God help her! She would split wide open +like a melon. If by any chance her forefoot should +be thrust into one of the many gaps between the +enrockment blocks,--spaces from two to three feet +wide,--and her bow timbers thus take the shock, there +was a living chance to save her. + +A cry from Baxter, who had dropped the tiller and +was scrambling over the stone-covered deck to the +bowsprit, reached the captain's ears, but he never +altered his position. What he was to do must be done +surely. Baxter didn't count,--wasn't in the back of +his head. There were plenty of willing hands to pick +up Baxter and his men. + +Then a thing happened which, if I had not seen it, +I would never have believed possible. The water +cushion of the outsuck helped,--so did the huge roller +which, in its blind rage, had underestimated the distance +between its lift and the wide-open jaws of the +rock,--as a maddened bull often underestimates +the length of its thrust, its horns falling short of the +matador. + +Whatever the cause, Captain Joe watched his +chance, sprang to the outermost rock, and, bracing +his great snubbing posts of legs against its edge, +reversed his body, caught the wavering sloop on his +broad shoulders, close under her bowsprit chains, and +pushed back with all his might. + +Then began a struggle between the strength of the +man and the lunge of the sea. With every succeeding +onslaught, and before the savage roller could fully +lift the staggering craft to hurl her to destruction, +Captain Joe, with the help of the outsuck, would +shove her back from the waiting rocks. This was +repeated again and again,--the men in the rescuing +yawl meanwhile bending every muscle to carry out +the captain's commands. + +Sometimes his head was free enough to shout his +orders, and sometimes both man and bow were +smothered in suds. + +"Keep that fall clear!" would come his order +"Stand ready to catch the yawl! Shut that--" here +a souse would stop his breath,--"shut that furnace +door! Do ye want the steam out of the b'iler?"-- +etc., etc. + +That the slightest misstep on the slimy rocks on +which his feet were braced meant sending him under +the sloop's bow where he would be caught between her +forefoot and the rocks and ground into pulp concerned +him as little as did the fact that Baxter and his men +had crawled along the bowsprit over his head and had +dropped to the island without wetting their shoes. +That his diving suit was full of water and he soaking +wet to the skin, made not the slightest difference +to him--no more than it would to a Newfoundland +dog saving a child. His thoughts were on other +things,--on the rescuing yawl speeding toward the +spar buoy, on the stout hands and knowing ones who +were pulling for all they were worth to that anchor +of safety;--on two of his own men who, seeing Baxter's +cowardly desertion, had sprung like cats at the +bowsprit of the sloop in one of her dives, and were +then on the stern ready to pay out a line to the yawl +when she reached the goal. No,--he'd hold on "till +hell froze over." + +A hawser now ripped itself clear from out the crest +of a roller. This meant that the two cats, despite the +increasing gale and thrash of the onrushing sea had +succeeded in paying out a stern line to the men in +the yawl, who had slipped it through the snatch block +fastened in the buoy. It meant, too, that this line +had been connected with the line they had brought +with them from the island, its far end being around +the drum of our hoister. + +A shrill cry now came from one of the crew in the +yawl alongside the spar buoy, followed instantly by +the clear, ringing order, "GO AHEAD!" + +Now a burst of feathery steam plumed skyward, +and then the slow "chuggity-chug" of our drum cogs +rose in the air. The stern line straightened until it +was as rigid as a bar of iron, sagged for an instant +under the slump of the staggering sloop, straightened +again, and remained rigid. The sloop, held by the +stern line, crept slowly back to safety. + +Captain Joe looked over his shoulder, noted the +widening distance, and leaped back to the inshore +rocks. + +Late that afternoon, when the tug, with Captain +Joe and me on board, reached the tug's moorings +in New London harbor, the dock was crowded with +anxious faces,--Abram Marrows and his wife among +them. It had been an anxious day along the shore +road. The squall, which had blown for half an hour +and had then slunk away toward Little Gull, grumbling +as it went, had sent everything that could seek +shelter bowling into New London Harbor under close +reefs. It had also started Marrows and his wife on +a run to the dock, where they had stood for hours +straining their eyes seaward, each incoming vessel, +as she swooped past the dock into the inner basin, +adding to their anxiety. + +"Wouldn't give a keg o' sp'ilt fish for her. Ain't +a livin' chance o' savin' her," had bellowed the +captain of a fishing smack, as he swept by, within +biscuit-toss of the dock, his boom submerged, the +water curling over the rail. + +"She went slap ag'in them chunks o' cut stone!" +shouted the mate of a tug through the window of a +pilot house. + +"Got her off with her bow split open, but they +can't keep her free! Sunk by now, I guess," had +yelled one of the crew of a dory making for the shipyard. + +As each bulletin was shouted back over the water +in answer to the anxious inquiries of Marrows, the +wife would clasp her fingers the tighter. She made +no moan or outburst. Abram would blame her and +say it was her fault,--everything was her fault that +went wrong. + +When the tug had made fast to a wharf spile Captain +Joe cleared the stringpiece, and walked straight +to Marrows. He was still soaking wet underneath his +clothes, only his outer garments being dry,--a condition +which never affected him in the least, "salt +water bein' healthy," he would say. + +"What did I tell ye, Abram Marrows?" he +exploded, in a voice that could be heard to the turnpike. +"Didn't I say Baxter warn't fittin', and that +he ought ter be grubbin' clams? Go and dig a hole +some'er's and cover him up head and ears,--and dig +it quick, too, and I'll lend ye a shovel." + +"Well, but, Captain Joe,"--protested Marrows. + +"Don't you 'well' me. Well, nothin'. You're +bad as him. Go and dig a hole and BOTH on ye git +in it!"--and he pushed through the crowd on his +way to his house, I close at his heels. + +The wife, who but that moment had heard the glad +news of the rescue from the lips of a deck hand, now +hurried after the captain and laid her hand on his +arm. Her eyes were red from weeping; strands of +gray hair strayed over her forehead and cheeks; her +lips were tightly drawn; the anxiety of the last few +hours had left its mark. + +"Don't go, Captain Joe, till I kin speak to ye," +she pleaded, in a trembling voice,--speaking through +fingers pressed close to her lips. + +"No,--I don't want to hear nothin'. She's all +right, I tell ye,--tighter 'n a drum and not a drop +of water in her. Got some of my men aboard and +we'll unload her to-morrow. You go home, old +woman; you needn't worry." + +"Yes, but you must listen,--PLEASE listen." + +She had followed him up the dock and the two +stood apart from the crowd. + +"Well, what is it?" + +"I want to thank ye,--and I want--" + +"No, you don't want to thank nothin'. She's all +right, I tell ye." + +She had tight hold of his arm now and was +looking up into his face, all her gratitude in her +eyes. + +"But I do,--I must,--please listen. You've +helped us so. It's all we have. If we'd lost the sloop +I'd 'a' give up." + +The captain's rough, hard hand went out and +caught the woman's thin fingers. A peculiar cadence +came into his voice. + +"All ye have? Do you think I don't know it? +That's why I was under her bowsprit." + + + + +"AGAINST ORDERS" + + + +"Here comes Captain Bogart--we'll ask him," +said the talkative man. + +His listeners were grouped about one of the small +tables in the smoking-room of the Moldavia, five days +out. The question was when the master of a vessel +should leave his ship. In the incident discussed +every man had gone ashore--even the life-saving +crew had given her up: the master had stuck to his +post. + +The captain listened gravely. + +"Yes--if there's one chance in a thousand of saving +her. Regulations are pretty plain; can't forget +'em unless you want to," and he walked on. + +That night at dinner I received a message to come +to the captain's cabin. He had some coffee that an +old Brazilian had sent him. His steward hailed from +Rio, and knew how to grind and boil it. + +Over the making the talk veered to the inquiry in +the smoking-room. + +"When ought a commander to abandon his ship, +Captain?" I asked. + +"When his passengers need him. Passengers first, +ship next, are the orders. They're clear and exact-- +can't mistake 'em." + +"You speak as if you had had some experience." +A leaf from out the note-book of a live man doing +live things is as refreshing as a bucket of cool water +from a deep well. + +"Experience! Been forty years at sea." + +"Some of them pretty exciting, I suppose." + +"Yes. Half a dozen of 'em." + +He emptied his cup, rose from his seat, and pushing +back his chair, began pacing the floor, stepping +into the connecting chart-room, bending for an instant +over the map, and stepping back again, peering +through the small window a-grime with the spray of +a north-easter. + +My question, I could see, had either revived some +unpleasant memory or the anxiety due to the sudden +shift of wind--it had been blowing south-west all day +--had made him restless. + +As my eyes followed his movements I began to +realize the enormous size of the man. Walking the +deck, head up, body erect, his broad shoulders pulled +back, his round, solid girth tightly confined in his +simple uniform, he looked the brawny, dominant, +forceful commander that he was--big among the +biggest passengers. Here, pacing the small cabin, +his head almost touching the ceiling, his great frame +filled the small narrow room as an elephant would +fill a boudoir. Everything seemed too small for him +--the table, even the chair which he had now regained, +the tiny egg-shell cup which he was still +grasping. + +Looking closer--his head in full profile against +the glow of the electric light--I caught the straight +line of the ruddy, seamed neck--a bull's neck in +strength, a Greek athlete's in refinement of line-- +sweeping up into the close-cropped, iron-gray hair. +Then came the round of the head; the massive forehead, +strong, straight nose; thin, compressed lips, +moulded thin and kept compressed by a life of +determined effort; square-cut chin and the iron jaw +that held the lips and chin in place. + +When he rose to his feet again I had another +surprise. To my astonishment he was not a Colossus +at all--not in pounds and inches. On the contrary, +he was but little above the average size. What +had impressed me had not been his bulk, but his +reserve force. Tigers stretched out in cages produce +this effect; so do powerful machines that dig, crunch, +or pound--dormant until their life-steam sets them +going. + +The gale increased in violence. We got now the +lift of the steamer's bow, staggering under tons of +water, and the whir of the screw in mid-air. The +captain glanced at the barometer, drew his body to its +full height, reached for his storm-coat, slipped it on, +and was about to swing back the door opening on the +deck, when the chirp of a canary rang through the +room. At the sound he turned quickly and walked +back to where the cage hung. + +"Ho, little man!" he cried in the same tone of +voice in which he would have addressed a child; +"woke you up, did we? Sorry, old fellow; tuck your +head down again and take another nap." + +The bird stretched out its bill, fluttered its wings, +pecked at the captain's outstretched finger, and burst +into song. + +"Yours, captain?" I had not noticed the bird +before. + +"Yes; had him for years." + +Instantly the absurdity of the companionship broke +upon me. What possible comfort, I thought, could +a man like the captain take in so tiny a creature? +It was the lion and the mouse over again--the eagle +and the tom-tit--the bear and the rabbit. He must +have noticed my surprise and amusement, for he +added with a smile: + +"Must have something. Gets pretty lonesome +sometimes when you have no wife nor children, and +there are none anywheres for me." He had withdrawn +his fingers now, and was buttoning his coat +close about his broad chest, his eyes still on the bird +that was splitting its little throat in a burst of song. + +"But he's so small," I laughed. "I should think +you'd have a dog--seems nearer your size." + +I once saw a man struck by a spent bullet. I +remember the sudden pallor, the half gasp, and the +expression of pain that followed. Then the man +uttered a cry. The same expression crossed the captain's +face, but there was no gasp and no cry; only +a straightening of the lips and a tightening-up of the +iron jaw. Then, without a word of any kind in +answer, he caught up his cap, swung back the door, +and with the wind full on his chest, breasted his way +to the bridge. + +When the door swung open a moment later it +closed on the first officer--a square, thick-set, round- +headed man, with mild blue eyes set in a face framed +by a half-circle of reddish-brown whiskers, the face +tanned by twenty-five years of sea service, fifteen of +them with Captain Bogart. + +"Getting soapy," he said; "wind haulin' to the +east'ard. Goin' to have a nasty night." As he spoke +he stripped off his tarpaulins, hung them to a hook +in the chart-room, and wiping the salt grime from +his face with his coat cuff, took the captain's empty +seat at the table. + +I knew by the captain's silent departure that I +had made a break of some kind, but I could not locate +it. Perhaps the first officer might explain. + +"Captain lost his wife, didn't he?" I asked, +moving my chair to make room. + +"No--never had one." He leaned forward and +filled one of the empty cups. "Why did you +think so?" + +"Well, more from the tone of his voice than +anything else. Some trouble about it, wasn't there?" + +"There was. His sweetheart was burned to death +ten years ago--lamp got upset." These men are +direct in their speech. It comes from their life-long +habit of giving short, crisp, meaning orders. He had +reached for the sugar now, and was dropping the +lumps slowly into his cup. + +"That explains it, then," I answered. "We were +talking about the bird over there, and he said a man +must have something to love, being without wife or +children, and then I told him a big man like himself, +I should think, would rather have a dog--" + +The first officer put down his cup, jerked his body +around, and said, his blue eyes looking into mine: + +"You didn't say that, did you?" + +I nodded my head. + +"Mighty sorry. Don't any of us talk to him of his +dog. What did he say?" + +"Nothing. Turned a little pale, got up, and went +out." + +"Too bad! You didn't know, of course--wish +I'd posted you." + +"Then he DID have a dog?" + +"Yes, belonged to that poor girl." + +"What became of him?" + +The first officer leaned over the table and rested +his elbows on the cloth, his chin in the palms of his +hands. For some time he did not speak. Outside I +could hear the thrash of the sea and the slosh of spent +waves coursing through the deck gutters. + +"You want to hear about that dog, do you?" he +asked, straightening up. "Well, I can tell you if +any man can, but you're to keep mum about it to the +captain." + +Again I nodded. + +He fumbled in his outside pocket, drew forth a +short pipe, rapped out the dead ashes, refilled it +slowly from a pouch on the table, lighted it, and +settled himself in his chair. + +"I'll begin at the beginning, for then you'll understand +how I came to be mixed up in it. I saw that +dog when he first came aboard, and I want to say right +here that the sight of him raised a lump in my throat +big as your fist, for he was just the mate of the one +I owned when I used to look after my father's sheep +on the hills where we lived. Then, again, I took to +him because he wasn't the kind of a pet I'd ever seen +at sea before--we'd had monkeys and parrots and a +bobtail cat, but never a dog--not a real, human dog. + +"He was one of those brown-and-white combed- +out collies we have up in my country, with a long, +pointed nose that could smell a mile and eyes like +your mother's--they were so soft and tender. One +of those dogs that when he put his cold nose alongside +your cheek and snuffed around your whiskers you +loved him--you couldn't help it--and you knew he +loved you. As for the captain--the dog was never +three feet from his heels. Night or day, it was just +the same--up on the bridge, followin' him with his +eyes every time he turned, or stretched out beside +his berth when he was asleep. Hard to understand +how such a man can love a dog until you saw that +one. Then, again, this dog had another hold upon +the captain, for the girl had loved him just the same +way. + +"And he had the best nose in a fog--seemed as if +he could sniff things as they went by or came on +dead ahead. After a while the captain would send +him out with the bow-watch in thick weather, and +there he'd crouch, his nose restin' on the rail, his eyes +peerin' ahead. Once he got on to a brigantine comin' +bow on minutes before the lookout could see her-- +smelt her, the men said, just as he used to smell the +sheep lost on the hillside at home. It was thick as +mud--one of those pasty fogs that choke you like +hot steam. We had three men in the cro'nest and two +for'ard hangin' over her bow-rail. The dog began to +grow restless. Then his ears went up and his tail +straightened out, and he began to growl as if he had +seen another dog. The captain was listenin' from +the bridge, and he suspected somethin' was wrong +and rang 'Slow down!' just in time to save us from +smashing bow on into that brigantine. Another time +he rose on his hind legs and 'let out' a yelp that +peeled everybody's eyes. Then the slippery, barnacle- +covered bottom of a water-logged derelict went +scootin' by a few yards off our starboard quarter. +After that the men got to dependin' on him--'Ought +to have a first mate's pay,' I used to tell the captain, +at which he would laugh and pat the dog on the +head. + +"One morning about eight bells, some two hundred +miles off Rio--we were 'board the Zampa, one of our +South American line, with eighteen first-class passengers, +half of 'em women, and ten or twelve emigrants +--when word came to the bridge that a fire +had started in the cargo. We had a lot of light +freight on board and some explosives which were to +be used in the mines in the mountains off the coast, +so fire was the last thing we wanted. Bayard--did I +tell you the dog's name was Bayard?--that's what +the girl called him--was on the bridge with Captain +Bogart. I was asleep in my bunk. First thing I +knew I felt the dog's cold nose in my face, and the +next thing I was on the dead run for the after-hatch. +I've had it big and ugly a good many times in my +life; was washed upon a pile of rocks once stickin' +up about a cable's length off our coast, and hung to +the cracks until I dropped into a lifeboat; and +another time I was picked up for dead off Natal and +rolled on a barrel till I came to. But that racket +aboard the Zampa was the worst yet. + +"When I jumped in among the men the smoke +was creepin' out between the lids of the hatch. We +ripped that off and began diggin' up the cargo-- +crates of chairs, rolls of mattin', some spruce scantling +--runnin' the nozzle of the hose down as far as +we could get it. There were no water-tight compartments +which we could have flooded in those days as +there are now, or we could have smothered it first +off. What we had to do was to fight it inch by inch. +I knew where the explosives were, and so did the +captain and purser, but the crew didn't--didn't even +know they were aboard, and I was glad they didn't. +We had picked most of 'em up at Rio--or they'd +made a rush maybe for the boats, and then we'd had +to shoot one or two of 'em to teach the others manners. +In addition to every foot of hose we had 'board I +started a line of buckets and then rushed a gang below +to cut through the bulkhead to see if we could get at +the stuff better. + +"The men fell to with a will. Fire ain't so bad +when you take hold of it in time, and as long as there +is plenty of steam pressure--and there was--you can +almost always get on top of it, unless something turns +up you don't count on. + +"That's what happened here. I was standin' on +the coamings of the hatch at the time, peerin' down +into the smoke and steam, thinking the fire was +nearly out, directing the men what to h'ist out and +what to leave, when first thing I knew there came +a dull, heavy thump, as if we'd struck a rock +amidships, and up puffed a cloud of smoke and +sparks that keeled me over on my back and nearly +blinded me. + +"I knew then that the fire had just begun to take +hold; that thump might have been a cask of rum or +it might have been a box of nitro-glycerine. Whatever +it was, there was no time to waste in stoppin' +the blaze before it reached the rest of the cargo. + +"Captain Bogart had felt the shock and now came +runnin' down the deck with the dog at his heels. He +knew I'd take care of the fire and he hadn't left the +bridge, but the way she shook and heaved under the +explosion was another thing. + +"By this time the passengers were huddled together +on the upper deck, frightened to death, as +they always are, the women the coolest in the crowd. +All except two little old women, sisters, who lived +out of Rio and who had been with us before. Fire +was one of the things that scared them to death, and +they certainly were scared. They hung to the rail, +their arms around each other--the two together didn't +weigh a hundred and fifty pounds; always reminded +me of two shiverin' little monkeys, these two old +women, although maybe it ain't nice for me to say +it--and looked down over the rail into the sea, and +said they never could go down the ladder, and did +all the things badly scared women do, short of pitching +themselves overboard, which sometimes occurs. +The captain stopped and talked to 'em--told 'em there +was no danger--his ears open all the time for another +let-go, and the dog nosed round and put out his paw +as if to make good what the captain had promised. + +"The water was goin' in now pretty lively--all +the pumps at work--the light stuff bein' heaved overboard +as fast as it came out. By dark we'd got the +fire under so that we had steam where before we'd +had smoke and flame. The passengers had quieted +down and some of 'em had gone back to their staterooms +to get their things together, and everything +was going quiet and peaceable--this was about nine +o'clock--when there came another half-smothered +explosion and the stokers began crawlin' up like rats. +Then the chief engineer stumbled out--no hat nor +coat, his head all blood where a flying bolt had gashed +him. Some of her bilge plates was loose, he said, and +the water half up to the fire-boxes. Next a column +of flame came pouring out of her companionway, +which crisped up four of our boats and drove everybody +for'ard. We knew then it was all up with us. + +"The captain now sent every man to the boats-- +those that would float--and we began to get the passengers +and crew together--about sixty, all told. +That's pretty nasty business at any time. They're +like a flock of sheep, huddlin' together, some wantin' +to stay and some crazy to go; or they are shiverin' +with fright and ready to knife each other--anything +to get ahead or back or wherever they think it is +safest. This time most of 'em had got on to the +explosives; they knew something was up, either with +the boilers or the cargo, and every one of them +expected to be blown up any minute. + +"I stood by the rail, of course, and had told off +the men I could trust, puttin' 'em in two lines to let +'em through one at a time, women first, then the old +men, and so on--same old story; you've seen it, no +doubt--and had got four boats overboard and filled +--the sea was pretty calm--and three of 'em away +and out of range of fallin' pieces if she did take a +notion to let go suddenly, when the dog sprang out +of the door at the top of the stairs leading down to +the main deck, barkin' like mad, runnin' up to the +captain, who stood just behind me, pullin' at his +trousers, and runnin' back again. Then a yell came +from the boat below that one of the old women was +missing: it was her sister. One half-crazy man said +she'd jumped overboard--he was crowdin' up to the +rail and didn't want to stop for anything--and +another said she had gone off in the first boat, which +I knew was a lie. + +"'Have you sent them both down?' asked Captain +Bogart. + +"'No, sir; only one,' I said--and I hadn't. + +"Just then a steward stepped up with a bundle +of clothing in his hand. + +"'I tried to get her out, but she'd locked herself +in the stateroom, sir. It was all afire when I +come up.' + +"It took about two seconds for Captain Bogart +to jump clear of the crowd, run half the length of the +deck and plunge through the door leadin' to the main +deck, the dog boundin' after him. + +"I've been through a good many anxious minutes +in my life, but those were the worst I'd had up to +date. He and I had been pretty close ever since I +went to sea. He's ten years older than I am, but he +gave me my first chance. Yes; that kind of thing +takes the heart out of you, and they were both in it. +Hadn't been for the dog we wouldn't have missed her, +maybe, although the captain was keeping tally of the +passengers and crew. + +"Three minutes, they said it was--more like three +hours to me--I held the crowd back, wondering how +long I ought to wait if he didn't come up, knowing +my duty was to stay where I was, when the dog +sprang out of the door, half his hair singed off him, +barkin' and jumpin' as if he had been let out for a +romp; and then came the captain staggerin' along, +his face scorched, his coat half burned off him, the +woman in his arms in a dead faint and pretty nigh +smothered. The old fool had locked herself in her +stateroom--he had to break down the door to get +at her--cryin' she'd rather die there than be separated +from her sister. + +"We made room for the two--the half-crazy man +fallin' back--and the captain lowered her himself +into the boat alongside her sister, and then he sent +me down the ladder behind her to catch the others +when they came down and see that everything was +ready to cast off. + +"I could see the captain now from my position in +the boat, up against the sky--he was the last man on +the ship--holding the dog close to him. Once I +thought he was going to bring him down in his arms, +he held him so tight. + +"Next time I looked he was coming down the +ladder slowly, one foot at a time, the dog looking +down at him, his big, human eyes peering into the +captain's face, his long, pointed nose thrust out, his +ears bent forward. If he could have spoken--and he +looked as if he was speaking--he would be telling +him how glad he felt at savin' the old woman, and +how happy he was that they'd all three got clear. +My own collie used to talk to me like that--had +a kind of low whine when he'd get that way; tell +me about his sheep stuck in the snow, and the way +the--" + +The first officer stopped, cleared his throat, shook +the ashes from his pipe and laid it on the table. After +a while he went on. His words came slower now, as +if they hurt him. + +"When the captain got half-way down the ladder +I saw him stand still for a moment and look straight +tip into the dog's eyes. Then I heard him say: + +"'Down, Bayard! Stay where you are.' + +"The dog crouched and lay with his paws on the +edge of the rail. That's what he'd done all his life-- +just obeyed orders without question. Again I saw +the captain stop. This time he slipped his hand into +his side-pocket, half drew out his revolver, put it +back again, and kept on his way down the ladder to +the boat. + +"Then the captain's order rang out: + +"'Get ready to shove off!' + +"Hardly had the words left his lips when there +came another dull, muffled roar, and a sheet of flame +licked the whole length of the deck. Then she fell +over on her beam. + +"'My God!' I cried; 'left that dog to die!' + +For a moment the first officer did not answer. Then +he raised his eyes to mine and said in a voice full of +emotion: + +"Yes; there was nothin' else to do. It's against +orders to take animals into life-boats. They take +room and must be fed, and we hadn't a foot of space +or an ounce of grub and water to spare, and we had +two hundred miles to go. I begged the captain. 'I'll +give Bayard my place,' I said. I knew he was right; +but I couldn't help it. 'Let me go back and get +him.' I know now it would have been foolish; but +I'd have done it all the same. So would you, maybe, +if you'd known that dog and seen his trusting eyes +lookin' out of his scorched face and remembered what +he'd just done. + +"The captain never looked at me when he answered. +He couldn't; his eyes were too full. + +"'Your place is where you are, sir,' he said, short +and crisp. 'Shove off, men.' + +"He will never get over it. That dog stood for +the girl he'd lost, somehow. That's the captain's bell. +I'm wanted on the bridge. Good-night." + +Again the cabin door swung free, letting in a blast +of raw ice-house air, the kind that chills you to the +bone. The gale had increased. Through the opening +I could hear the combers sweeping the bow and the +down-swash of the overflow striking the deck below. + +With the outside roar came the captain, his tarpaulins +glistening with spray, his cap pulled tight +down to his ears, his storm-beaten face ruddy with +the dash and cut of the wind. He looked like a sea +Titan that had stepped aboard from the crest of +a wave. + +If he saw me--I was stretched out on the sofa by +this time--he gave no sign. Opening his tarpaulins +and thrashing the water from his cap, he walked +straight to the cage, peered in, and said softly: + +"Ah, my little man! Asleep, are you? I just +came down to take a look at the chart and see how you +were getting on. We're having some weather on the +bridge." + + + + +MUGGLES'S SUPREME MOMENT + + + +I + + + +A most estimable young man was Muggles: a clean- +shaven, spick-and-span, well-mannered young man-- +particular as to the brushing of his hat, the tying of +his scarf and the cut of his clothes; more than particular +as to their puttings-on and puttings-off--sack- +coat and derby for mornings; top hat and frock for +afternoons; bobtail and black tie for stags, and full +regalia of white choker, white waistcoat and swallowtail +for smart dinners and the opera. + +He knew, too, all the little niceties of social life-- +which arm to give to his hostess in escorting her out +to dinner; on which side of a hansom to place a lady; +the proper hours for calling; the correct thing in +canes, umbrellas, stick-pins and cigar-cases; the way +to balance a cup of afternoon tea on one knee while +he toyed with a lettuce sandwich teetering on the +other--all the delicate observances so vital to the +initiated and so unimportant to the untutored and +ignorant. Then Muggles was a kind and considerate +young man--extremely kind and intrusively considerate; +always interesting himself in everybody's +affairs and taking no end of trouble to straighten +them out whether importuned or not--and he seldom +was. + +This idiosyncrasy had gained for him during his +college days the title of "Mixey." This in succeeding +years had been merged into "Muddles" and +finally to "Muggles," as being more euphonious and +less insulting. Of late among his intimates he had +been known as "The Goat," due to his constant habit +of butting in at any and all times, a sobriquet which +clings to him to this day. + +His real name--the one he inherited from his +progenitors and now borne by his family--was one +that stood high in the fashionable world: a family +that answered to the more dignified and aristocratic +patronymic of Maxwell--a name dating back to the +time of Cromwell, with direct lineage from the Earl +of Clanworthy--john, Duke of Essex, Lord Beverston +--that sort of lineage. No one of the later Maxwells, +it is true, had ever been able to fill the gap of a +hundred years or more between the Clanworthys and +the Maxwells, but a little thing like that never made +any difference to Muggles or his immediate connections. +Was not the family note-paper emblazoned +with the counterfeit presentment of a Stork Rampant +caught by the legs and flopping its wings over a +flattened fish-basket; and did not Muggles's cigarette- +case, cuff-buttons and seal ring bear a similar design? +And the wooden mantel in the great locked library, +and which was opened and dusted twice a year--the +books, not the mantel--did it not support a life-sized +portrait of the family bird done in wood, with three +diminutive storklets clamoring to be fed, their open +mouths out-thrust between their mother's breast and +the top edge of the fish-basket, enwreathed by a more +than graceful ribbon bearing the inscription, "We +feed the hungry"--or words to that effect? + +None of these evidences of wealth and ancestry, +it must be said, ever impressed the group of scoffers +gathered about the wood fire of the "Ivy" in his +college days, or about the smart tables at the "Magnolia +Club" in his post-graduate life. To them he +was still "Mixey," or "Muddles," or "Muggles," or +"The Goat," depending entirely upon the peculiar +circumstances connected with the mixing up or the +butting in. + +To his credit be it said the descendant of earls and +high-daddies never lost his temper at these onslaughts. +If Bender, or Podvine, or little Billy Salters pitched +into him for some act of stupidity--due entirely to +his misguided efforts to serve some mutual friend-- +Muggles would argue, defend and protest, but the +discussion would always end with a laugh and his +signing the waiter's check and ordering another one +for everybody. + +"Why the devil, Muggles, did you insist last night +on that Boston girl's riding home from the theatre in +the omnibus, you goat?" thundered Podvine one +morning at the club, "instead of letting her--" + +"My dear fellow," protested Muggles, "it was +much more comfortable in the omnibus, and--" + +"--And broke up her walk home with Bobby, +you idiot! He had to take the owl train home, and +she won't see him for a month. Didn't you know they +were engaged?" + +"No--" + +"Of course you didn't, Muggles, but you could +have seen it in her face if you'd looked. You always +put your foot in it clean up to your pants' pocket!" + +"You've been at it again, have you, Muggles?" +burst out Bender that same night "Listen to the +Goat's last, boys. Jerry wanted to buy that swamp +meadow next his place on Long Island and had been +dickering with the old fellow who owns it all winter, +telling him it would be a good place to raise cranberries +if it was dug out and drained, and they had +almost agreed on the price--about twice what it was +worth--when down goes Muggles to spend the night +and Jerry blabs it all out, and just why he wanted +it, and the next morning Muggles, to clinch the deal +and help Jerry, slips over to the hayseed and tells +him how the Sunnybrook Club are going to buy +Jerry's place, and how they wanted the swamp for +a hatchery--all true--and that the hayseed oughtn't +to wait a moment, but send word by HIM that the +deal was closed, because the club-house being near by +would make all the rest of his land twice as valuable; +and the old Skeezicks winked his eye and shifted +his tobacco and said he'd think about it, and now you +can't buy that sink-hole for twenty times what it's +worth, and the Sunnybrook is looking for another +site nearer Woodvale. Regular clown you are, Muggles. +Exactly like that fellow at the circus who holds +up one end of the tent and then, before the supes can +reach it, drops it for the other end." + +When the results of this last well-intentioned effort +with its disastrous consequences became clear to the +Goat, that spotless gentleman leaned back in his +chair, threw hick his shoulders, shot out his cuffs, readjusted +his scarfpin and replied in an offended tone: + +"All owing, my dear fellow, to the stupidity of +the agricultural class. I told the farmer he would +regret it, and he will. As for myself, I was awfully +disappointed. I had planned to run all the way back +to Jerry's and tell him the good news before be went +to sleep that night, and--" + +"Disappointed, were you? How do you think +Jerry felt? Made a lot of difference to him, I tell +you, not selling his place to the club. Been a whole +year working it up. It's smothered now under a +blanket--about ninety per cent of its value--and +the Sunnybrook scheme would have pulled him out +with a margin! Now it's deader than last year's +shad. What the club wanted was a hatchery built +over a spring, and that's why that swamp was necessary +to the deal. Oh, you're the limit, Muggles!" + +It was while smarting under these criticisms that +the steward one morning in June brought him his +letters. One was from Monteith--Class of '9l--a +senior when Muggles was a freshman--and was +postmarked "Wabacog, Canada," where Monteith +owned a lumber mill--and where he ran it himself +and everything connected with it from stumpage +to scantling. "There is a broad stream that +runs into the lake, ... and above the mill +there are bass weighing ten pounds, ... and +back in the primeval forest bears, ... and +now and then a moose--" So ran the letter. Muggles +had spread it wide open by this time and was +reading it aloud--everybody knowing Monteith--and +the group never having any secrets of this kind from +each other. + +"Come up, old chap," the letter continued, "and +stay a week--two, if you can work it--and bring +Bender, and little Billy and Poddy, and three or four +more. The bungalow holds ten. Wire when--I'm +now putting things on ice." + +Muggles looked around the circle and sent interrogatory +Marconigrams with his eyebrows. In +response Podvine said he'd go, and so did Billy +Salters. Bender thought he could come a day or two +later--the earning of their daily bread was not an +absorbing task with these young gentlemen--their +fathers had done that years before. + +Muggles ran over in his mind the list of his engagements: +he was due at Gravesend on the tenth for a +week, to play golf; at his aunt's country-seat in +Westchester on the eleventh for the same length of +time, and on the twelfth he was expected to meet a +yacht at Cold Spring Harbor for a cruise up the +coast. He had accepted these invitations and had +fully intended to keep each and every one. Monteith's +letter, however, seemed to come at a time when +he really needed a more virile and bracing life than +was offered by the others. Here was a chance to +redeem his reputation. Lumber camps meant big +men doing big things--things reeking with danger, +such as falling trees, forest fires and log jams. +There might also be hair-breadth escapes in the hunting +of big game and the tramping of the vast wilderness. +This dressing three times a day and spending +the intermediate hours hitting wooden balls, or lounging +in a straw chair under a deck awning, had become +tiresome. What he needed was to get down to Nature +and hug the sod, and if there wasn't any sod then +he would grapple with whatever took its place. + +Muggles dropped his legs to the floor, straightened +his back, beckoned to a servant, motioned for a telegraph +blank--exertion is tabooed at the Magnolia-- +untelescoped a gold pencil hooked to his watch-chain +and wrote as follows: + +"Thanks. Coming Tuesday." + + + + +II + + + +Wabacog covers a shaved place in a primeval forest +which slopes to a lake of the same name. Covering +this bare spot are huge piles of sawed lumber-- +Monteith's axe-razors did the shaving--surrounding +an enormous mill surmounted by a smokestack of +wrought iron topped with a bird-cage spark arrester, +the whole flanked by a runway emerging from the +lake, up which climb in mournful procession the +stately bodies of fallen monarchs awaiting the cutting +irony of the saw. Farther along, on another clearing, +stands a square building labelled "Office," and still +farther on, guarded by sentinel trees and encircled +by wide piazzas, sprawls a low-roofed bungalow, its +main entrance level with a boardwalk ending in the +lake. This was Monteith's home. Here during the +winter's logging he housed himself in complete seclusion, +and here in summer he kept open house for +whoever would answer in person his welcoming +letters. + +Anything so rude and primeval, or so comforting +and inviting, was beyond the experience of Muggles +and his friends. This became apparent before +they had shed their coats and unpacked their +bags. There was a darky who answered to the name +of Jackson who could not only crisp trout to a turn, +but who could compound cocktails, rub down muscular +backs shivering from morning plunges in the +lake, make beds, clean guns, wait on the table, and in +an emergency row a canoe. There were easy chairs +and low-pitched divans overspread with Turkey rugs +and heaped with piles of silk cushions; there were +wooden lockers, all open, and each one filled with +drinkables and smokables--drinkables with white +labels, and smokables six inches long with cuffs halfway +down their length; there was an ice-chest sampling +a larger house in the rear; there was a big, wide, +all-embracing fireplace that burst its sides laughing +over the good time it was having (the air was cool at +night), and outside, redolent with perfume and glistening +in the sunshine, there was a bed of mint protected +by a curbing of plank which rivalled in its +sweet freshness those covering the last resting-places +of the most hospitable of Virginians. + +And there was Monteith! + +Some men are born rich; some inherit a pair of +scissors fitted to strong thumbs and forefingers, some +have to lie awake nights wondering what they will +do next to help their surplus run to waste, and some +pass sleepless hours devising plans by which they can +catch in their empty pockets the clippings and drippings +of all three. Muggles's host was none of these. +What he possessed he had worked for--early, late and +all the time. His father had stood by and seen the +old homestead in his native Southern State topple into +ashes, Only the gaunt chimney left; the son had +worked his way through college, and then with +diploma in one hand and his courage in the other-- +all he owned--had shaken the dust of civilization +from his shoes and had struck out for the Northern +wilds: Wabacog was the result. + +All these years he had kept in touch with his +college chums, and when the day of his success +arrived, and he was his own master, with the inborn +good-fellowship that marked his race, he had unbuttoned +his pocket, shaken out his heart and let loose +a hospitality that not only revived the memories of +his childhood, but created a new kind of joy in +the hearts of his guests. Hence the bungalow--hence +Jackson--hence the lockers and the ice-chest, and +hence the bed quilt of mint. + +"This is your room, Muggles--and, Bender, old +man, yours is next Podvine, you are across the +hall," was his welcome. "Breakfast is any time you +want it; dinner at six. Now come here! See that +line of lockers and that ice-chest? Don't forget 'em, +please! Step up, Jackson--take a look at him, boys. +That darky can mix anything known to man. He +never sleeps, and he's never tired. If you don't call +on him for every blessed thing you want day or night, +there'll be trouble." + +They fished and canoed; they hunted bears--a fact +known to the bear, who kept out of their way--never +was in it, Bender insisted; they went overboard every +morning, one after another, in the almost ice-cold +water of the lake, out again red as lobsters, back on a +run, whooping with the cold to the blazing fire of +the bungalow which Jackson had replenished with +bundles of dried balsam that cracked and snapped +with a roar while it toasted the bare backs and +scorched the bare legs of each one in turn (the balsam +was gathered the year before for this very purpose). +They roamed the woods, getting a crack once in a +while at a partridge or a squirrel; they strolled about +the mill, listening to the whir of the saws and watching +the "cut" as it was rolled away and was made +to feed the huge piles of lumber and timber flanking +the runway and far enough away from the huge +stack to be out of the way of treacherous sparks; and +at night they sat around Jackson's constantly replenished +fire and told stories of their college days or +revived the current gossip of the club and the Street. + +Muggles ruminated over each and every experience +--all new to him--and kept his eyes open for the +psychological moment when he would burst asunder +the bonds of conventionality and rise to the full +measure of his abilities. The Clanworthys had swung +battle-axes and ridden milk-white chargers into the +thickest of the fray. His turn would come; he felt +it in his knee: then these unbelievers would be +silenced. + +His host interested him enormously, especially his +masterful way of handling his men. He himself had +been elected foreman of Hose Carriage No. 1 in the +village near his father's country seat, and still held +that important office. His cape and fire-boots fitted +him to a nicety, and so did his helmet. No. 1 had +been called out but once in its history, and then to +the relief of a barn which, having lost heart before the +rescuers reached it, had sunk to the ground in despair +and there covered itself with ashes. He had been criticised, +he remembered, much to his chagrin, for the +way he had conducted the rescue party; but it would +never happen again. After this he would pattern his +conduct after Monteith, who seemed to accomplish +by a nod and a wave of the hand what he had split +his throat in trying to enforce. He did not put these +thoughts into words; neither did he whisper them +even in the ears of Podvine or Monteith--the two +men who understood him best and who guyed him the +least--especially Monteith, who never forgot that his +college chum was his guest. He confided them +instead to Monteith's big, red-faced foreman--half +Canadian, part French, and the rest of him Irish-- +who was another source of wonder. Muggles's inherent +good humor and willingness to oblige had made +an impression on the lumber-boss and he was always +willing to answer any fool question the young New +Yorker asked--a privilege which he never extended +to his comrades. + +"What do I do when somepin' catches fire?" the +boss replied to one of Muggles's inquiries--they were +sitting in the office alone, Bender and little Billy +having gone fishing with Jackson. "I'd blow that +big whistle ye see hooked to the safety, first. Ye +never heard it?--well, don't! It'll scare the life out +o' ye. If the mill catches before we can get the +pumps to work it's all up with us. If the piles of +lumber git afire we kin save some of 'em if the wind's +right; that's why we stack up the sawed stuff in +separate piles." + +"What do you do first--squirt water on it?" + +"No, we ain't got no squirts that'll reach. Best +way to handle the piles o' lumber is to start a line +of bucket-men from the lake and cover the piles with +anything you can catch up--blankets, old carpets, +quilts; keep 'em soaked and ye kin fight it for a +while; that's when one pile's afire, and ye're tryin' +to save the pile next t'it. Light stuff is all over in half +an hour--no matter how big the pile is--keep the +rags soaked--that's my way." + +That night before the blazing coals Muggles broke +out on some theories of putting out a conflagration +that made Bender sit up straight and little Billy +Salters cup his ears in attention. Monteith also +craned his neck to listen. + +"Who the devil taught you that, Mixey?" asked +Bender. "You talk as if you were Chief of the +Big Six." + +"Why, any fireman knows that. I've been running +with a machine for years." The calm way with +which Muggles said this, shaking the ashes from his +cigar as he spoke, showed a certain self-reliance. +"Out in our village I'm foreman of the Hose +Company." + +The sudden roar that followed this announcement +shook the big glasses and bottles on the low table. + +"So you'd keep the blankets soaked, would you?" +remarked Billy, winking at the others. + +"I certainly would." This came with a certain +triumphant tone in his voice. + +"Learned that practising on his head," whispered +Podvine. + +"Right you are, Poddy; but Muggles, suppose the +mill caught first," chipped in Monteith. The mill +was the apple of his eye. Fire was what he dreaded +--he never could insure the mill fully against fire. +"What would you protect first--the mill or the piles +of lumber?" + +"The lumber, of course--the mill can use its +pumps if the engine-room escapes." + +"Better save the mill," rejoined Monteith thoughtfully. +"Trade is pretty dull." Then he rose from +his seat, reached for his hat and strolled out on the +portico to take a look around before he turned in. + +Muggles's masterful grasp of a science of which his +companions knew as little as they did of the Patagonian +dialects came as a distinct surprise. What +else had the beggar been picking up in the way of +knowledge? Maybe Muggles wasn't such a goat, after +all. That Monteith had approved of his tactics only +increased their respect for their companion. Muggles +caught the meaning of the look in their faces and his +waistcoat began to pinch him across his chest. This +life was what he needed, he said to himself. Here +were big men--the lumber-boss was one--and he was +another--doing big things. Nothing like getting +down to primeval Nature for an inspiration! "Hugging +the sod," as he named it, had had its effect not +only on himself, but on his fellows. They would +never have felt that way toward him at the Magnolia. +The week at Wabacog had widened their horizon-- +widened everybody's horizon--as for himself he felt +like a Western prairie with limitless possibilities ending +in mountains of accomplishment. + +That night, an hour after midnight, Muggles found +himself sitting bolt upright in bed. Outside, filling +the air of the wilderness, bellowed and roared the +deep tones of the steam siren. Then came a babel of +voices gaining in distinctness and volume: + +"Fire, FIRE, FIRE!" + +Muggles sprang through the door and ran full tilt +into Jackson and Bender, who had vaulted from their +beds but a second before. The next instant every man +in the bungalow, Monteith at their head, came tumbling +out, one after the other. + +"Fire! Fire! Fire!" rang the cry, repeated by +a hundred mill hands rushing toward the mill. A +spark had worked its way through the arrester, some +one said, had fallen into the sawed stuff, been nursed +into a blaze by the night wind, and a roaring flame +was in full charge of one pile of lumber and likely +to take possession of another. + +Muggles looked about him. + +HIS SUPREME MOMENT HAD COME! + +The blood of the Clanworthys rose in his veins. +The Pass lay before him--so did the Bridge. A full +suit of dove-colored pajamas and a pair of turned-up +Turkish slippers was not exactly the kind of uniform +that either Leonidas or Horatius would have chosen +to fight his way to glory, but there was no time to +change them. + +With a whoop to Bender, who had really begun to +believe in him, and a commanding order to Jackson, +the three stripped the costly Turkish rugs from the +lounges, and blankets from the beds, and, following +his lead, dashed through the woods to the relief of the +endangered pile of lumber. On the way they passed +a gang of Canucks, carrying buckets. It was but +the work of a moment to arrange these into a posse +of relays with Bender on the lake end of the line and +Jackson next the pile, the gang passing the buckets +from hand to hand. + +This done Muggles snatched a ladder from an +adjacent building, threw it against the threatened +lumber, skipped up its rungs like a squirrel and +stood in silhouette against the flaring blaze, his +dove-gray flannels flapping about his thin legs, his +attenuated arms gyrating orders to the relief party, +who had spread the rugs and blankets on the fire- +endangered side of the pile of lumber and who were +now soaking them with water under Muggles's direction. +Now and then, as some part of the burning +mass would collapse, a shower of sparks and smoke +would obscure Muggles; then he could be seen brushing +the live coals from his pajamas, darting here and +there, shouting: "More water! More water! Here, +on this end! All together now!" fighting his way +with hand raised to keep the heat from blistering his +face, a very Casabianca on the burning deck. + +Soon the tongues of flame mounting skyward grew +less in number; columns of black smoke took the place +of the shower of sparks; the light flickering on the +frightened tree-trunks began to pale; from the rugs +and blankets the hot steam no longer rose in clouds. +The crisis had passed! The pile was saved! Muggles +had won! + +During all this time neither Monteith nor the big +lumber-boss had put in an appearance; nor had Podvine +nor little Billy Salters lent a hand. Bender had +stuck to his post and so had Jackson, oblivious of the +whereabouts of any other member of the coterie except +Muggles, whose clothespin of a figure came into +relief now and then against the flare of the flames. +Then Bender made his way back to the bungalow. + +The last man to leave the deck was Muggles. + +Backing slowly down the ladder one rung at a +time, his face blistered, his pajamas burnt into holes, +he examined the surrounding lumber; saw that all +his orders had been carried out, gave some parting +instructions to the men to watch out for sparks, +especially those around the edge of the saved pile, +and then slowly, and with great dignity, made his +way to the bungalow--his destiny fulfilled, his honor +maintained and his position assured among his fellows. +He had now only to await the plaudits of his +comrades! + +As he pushed open the door and looked about him +the color rose in his cheeks and a kind of a hotness +came from inside his pajamas. Grouped about the +low table, heaped with specimens of cut glass, a +squatty bottle, a siphon and a bowl of cracked ice, sat +every member of the coterie--Bender among them-- +Monteith in the easy chair at their head. If any +other occupation had engrossed their attention since +the alarm sounded there was no evidence of it either +in their appearance or in the tones of their voices. + +"Lo, the Conquering Hero," broke out Podvine. +"Get up Billy and put a wreath of laurel over his +scorched and blistered brow." + +Muggles, for a moment, did not reply. The shock +had taken his breath away. He supposed every man +had worked himself into exhaustion. The only thing +that had really dimmed his own triumph was the +fear that on reaching the bungalow he might find +the blackened remains of one or more of his comrades +stretched out on the floor. + +"Didn't you fellows try to save anything?" he +exploded. + +"Wasn't anything to save--mill was in no +danger." + +"Why, the whole place would have gone if I +hadn't--" + +"You're quite right, Muggles," said Monteith. +"Let up on him, boys. You worked like a beaver, +old man. Sorry about the rugs--one was an old +Bokhara--but that's all right--of course you didn't +stop to think." + +"Well, but, Monteith--what's a rug or two when +you have to save a pile of--what's the lumber worth, +anyhow?" + +"Oh, well, never mind--let it go, old man." + +Bender, who was still soaking wet from splashing +buckets, and since his return to the bungalow +had been boiling mad clear through, sprang to his +feet. + +"I'll tell you--I've just found out. As the pile +now stands it's worth four thousand dollars. If it +had burned up it would have been worth six. It's +insured, you goat!" + + +The End + + + + + + +The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Veiled Lady, by F. Hopkinson Smith +********This file should be named vldld10.txt or vldld10.zip******** + +Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, vldld11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, vldld10a.txt + +Produced by Duncan Harrod + +More information about this book is at the top of this file. + +We are now trying to release all our etexts one year in advance +of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. +Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections, +even years after the official publication date. + +Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. 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