Fifth day out. A dull, dead, blank unprofitable calm. Nothing doing; nothing to do. Wish I'd gone steerage. ~ Smith's Log
Legal employment is susceptible of almost indefinite expansion. Thusruminated Judge Enderby, rising early with a brisk appetite for romance,as he fingered the two five-dollar bills received from his newestclient.
For that client he was jovially minded to do his best. The young fellowhad taken a strong hold upon his liking. Moreover, the judge was aconfirmed romantic, though he would have resented being thus catalogued.He chose to consider his inner stirrings of sentimentalism in thepresent case as due to a fancy for minor diplomacies and delicatenegotiations. One thing he was sure of: that he was enjoying himselfunusually, and that the Tyro was like to get very good value for hisfee.
To which end, shortly after breakfast he broke through the cordonsurrounding Miss Cecily Wayne and bore her off for a promenade.
"But it's not alone for your beaux yeux," he explained to her. "I'macting for a client."
"How exciting! But you're not going to browbeat me as you did poor papawhen you had him on the stand?" said Miss Wayne, exploring the gnarledold face with soft eyes.
"Browbeat the court!" cried the legal light (who had frequently donethat very thing). "You're the tribunal of highest jurisdiction in thiscase."
"Then I must look very solemn and judicial." Which she proceeded to dowith such ravishing effect that three young men approaching from theopposite direction lost all control of their steering-gear and wereprecipitated into the scuppers by the slow tilt of a languidground-swell.
"If you must, you must," allowed the judge, "though," he added with aglance at the struggling group, "it's rather dangerous. I'm approachingyou," he continued, "on behalf of a client suddenly stricken dumb."
Miss Wayne's shapely nose elevated itself to a marked angle. "I don'tthink I want to hear about him," she observed coldly.
"He's in dire distress over his affliction."
"I have troubles of my own. I'm deaf."
"Then suppose I should express to you in the sign language that myclient--"
"I don't want to hear it--see it--know anything about it." The amount ofdetermination which Miss Wayne's chin contrived to express seemed quiteincompatible with the adorable dimple nestling in the center thereof.
"Must I return the fee, then?"
"What fee?"
"The victim of this sudden misfortune has retained me--"
"To act as go-between?"
"Well, no; not precisely. But to represent him in all matters of importon this voyage. On two occasions he has paid over the sum of fivedollars. I never work for nothing. Would you deprive a superannuatedlawyer of the most promising chance to earn an honest penny which haspresented itself in a year?"
"Poor old gentleman!" she laughed. "Far be it from me to ruin yourprospects. But if Mr. Daddle--if your client," pursued the girl withheightened color, "has anything to say to me, he'd best say it himself."
"As I have already explained to the learned court, he can't. He's dumb."
"Why is he dumb?"
"Ah! What an ally is curiosity! My unhappy client is dumb by order."
"Whose order?"
"The captain's."
"Has the captain told him he mustn't speak?"
"To you."
All of Miss Wayne's dimples sprang to their places and stood atattention. "How lovely! What for? I'll make him."
"Ah! What an ally is opposition," sighed the astute old warrior. "But Ifear you can't."
"Can't I! Wait and see."
"No. He is afraid."
"He doesn't look a victim of timidity."
"Not for himself. But unpleasant things will happen to a friend--well,let us say an acquaintance for whom he has no small regard--if hedisobeys."
"Oh, dealer in mysteries, tell me more!"
"Thou art the woman."
"I? What can possibly happen to me?"
"Solitary confinement."
"I don't think that's a very funny joke," said she contemptuously.
"Indeed, it's no joke. Your eyes will grow dim, your appetite will wane,your complexion will suffer, that tolerable share of good looks which acasual Providence has bestowed upon you--"
"Please don't tease the court, Judge Enderby. What is it all about?"
"In words of one syllable: if the boy speaks to you once more, you're tobe sentenced to your stateroom."
"How intolerable!" she flashed. "Who on this ship has the right--"
"Nobody. But on shore you possess a stern and rockbound father who,thanks to the malevolent mechanism of an evil genius named Marconi, hasbeen able to exert his authority through the captain, acting in locoparentis, if I may venture to employ a tongue more familiar to thislearned court than to myself."
"And that's the reason Mr. Daddleskink," she got it out, with a braveeffort, "wouldn't speak to me yesterday?"
"The sole and only reason! Being a minor--"
"Gracious! Isn't he twenty-one?"
"If the court will graciously permit me to conclude my sentence--being aminor, you still--"
"I'm not a minor."
"You're not?"
"Certainly not. I was twenty-one last month."
"Your father gave the captain to understand that you were under age."
"Papa's memory sometimes plays tricks on him," said the maiden demurely.
"Or on others. I noticed that in the Mid & Mud Railroad investigation.You're sure you're over twenty-one?"
"Of course I'm sure."
"But can you prove it?"
"Gracious! How are such things proved? Is it necessary for me to proveit?"
"It would be helpful."
"What am I to do?"
"Give me five dollars," said the judge promptly.
"I haven't five dollars with me."
"Get it, then. I never work for nothing."
The ranging eye of Miss Wayne fell upon a figure in a steamer-chair, allhuddled up behind a widespread newspaper. There was somethingsuspiciously familiar about the figure. Miss Wayne bore down upon it.The paper--five days old--trembled. She peered over the top of it.Behind and below crouched the Tyro pretending to be asleep.
"Good-morning," said Miss Wayne.
A delicate but impressive snore answered her.
"Mr. Daddleskink!"
No answer. But the face of the victim twitched painfully. It is buthuman for the bravest martyr to wince under torture.
"Wake up! I know you're not asleep. I will be answered!" She stampedher small but emphatic foot on the deck. The legs of the Tyro curled upunder as instinctively as those of an assailed spider.
"There! You see! You needn't pretend. Won't you please speak to me?" Thetormentor was having a beautiful time with her revenge.
"Go away," said a hoarse whisper from behind the newspaper.
"I'm in trouble." The voice sounded very childlike in its plea. The Tyrowrithed.
"Even if you don't like me"--the Tyro writhed some more--"and don'tconsider me fit to speak to"--the Tyro's contortions were fairlyLaoco鰊ish--"would you--couldn't you lend me five dollars?"
The Tyro blinked rapidly.
"I need it awfully," pursued the malicious maiden.
Desperation marked itself on his brow. He scrambled from his chair,plunged his hand into his pocket, extracted a bill, transferred it toher waiting fingers, and hustled for the nearest doorway. He didn'treach it. The august undulations of Mrs. Charlton Denyse's formintercepted him.
"This is shameless!" she declared.
For once the abused youth was almost ready to agree with her.
"What?" he said weakly.
"Don't quibble with me, sir. I saw, if I did not hear. You passed MissWayne a note. I am astonished!" she said, in the tone of a scandalizedSunday-School teacher.
The Tyro rapidly reflected that she would have been considerably moreastonished could she have known the nature of the "note." From the tailof his eye he saw the recipient in close conversation with JudgeEnderby. Remembering his own dealings with that eminent fee-hunter hedrew a rapid conclusion.
"Would you like to know what was in that note?" he inquired.
"As a prospective connection of Miss Wayne's--"
"If so, ask Judge Enderby."
"Why should I ask Judge Enderby?"
"Because, unless I'm mistaken, he's got the note now."
"I shall not ask Judge Enderby. I shall report the whole disgracefulaffair to the captain."
"Don't do that!" cried the Tyro in alarm.
"Perhaps that will put an end to your vulgar persecution of aninexperienced young girl."
"O Lord!" groaned the Tyro, setting out in pursuit of the lawyer as theprotector of social sanctities turned away. "Now I have done it!"
He caught up with the judge and his companion at the turn of the deck."May I have a word with you, Judge?" he cried.
"I'm busy," said the lawyer gruffly. "I'm engaged in an importantconsultation."
"But this can't wait," cried the unfortunate.
"Anything can wait," said the old man. "But youth," he added in anundertone.
"You've got to listen!" The Tyro planted himself, a very solid, set bulkof athletic young manhood, in the jurist's path.
"In the face of force and coercion," sighed the other.
"I've been seen speaking to Miss--Miss--"
"Grouch," supplied the indicated damsel sweetly.
"Mrs. Denyse saw us. She has gone to report to the captain."
"Lovely!" said the lawyer. "Beautiful! Enter the Wicked Godmother. Thefairy-tale is working out absolutely according to Grimm."
"But Miss--"
"Grouch," chirped the young lady melodiously.
"--will be locked up--"
"In the donjon-keep," chuckled the lawyer. "Chapter the seventh. Whosays that romance has died out of the world?"
"But if Mrs. Denyse carries out her threat and tells the captain--"
"The Wicked Ogre, you mean. If you love me, the Wicked Ogre. And he willlock the Lovely Princess in the donjon-keep until the dumb but devotedPrince arrives in time--just in the nick of time--to effect a rescue.That comes in the last chapter. And then, of course, they were mar--"
"I'm tired of fairy-tales," said Little Miss Grouch hastily. "It won'tbe a bit funny to be locked up--"
"With three grains of corn per day and a cup of sour wine. HansChristian Andersen never did anything like this!" crowed the enchantedlawyer.
"Meantime," observed the Tyro, with the calm of despair, "Mrs. Denysehas found the captain."
"Presto, change!" said Judge Enderby, catching each by an arm andhurtling them around the curve of the cabin. "We come back to the dullreality of facts, retainers and advice. Fairy Prince,--young man, Imean,--you go and watch for icebergs over the port bow until sent for.Miss Wayne, you come with me to a secluded spot where the captain can'tdiscover us for an hour or so. I have a deep suspicion that he isn'treally in any great haste to find you."
As soon as they were seated in the refuge which the old gentleman found,he turned upon her.
"What are you trying to do to that young man?"
"Nothing," said she with slanted eyes.
"Don't look at me that way. It's a waste of good material. Remember,he's my client and I'm bound to protect his interests. Are you trying todrive him mad?"
Little Miss Grouch's wrongs swept over her memory. "He said I washomely. And red-nosed. And had a voice like a sick crow. And he calledme Little Miss Grouch. I'm getting even," she announced with delicatesatisfaction.
The old man cackled with glee. "Blind as well as dumb! There's a littlegodling who is also blind and--well, you know the proverb: 'When theblind lead the blind, both shall fall in the ditch.' Look well to yourfootsteps, O Princess."
"Is that legal advice?"
"Oh, that reminds me! You don't chance to have any documentary proof ofyour birth, do you?"
"With me? Gracious, no! People don't travel with the family Bible, dothey?"
"They ought to, in melodrama. And this is certainly someten-twenty-thirty show! Wise people occasionally have passports."
"Nobody ever accused me of wisdom. Besides, I left in a hurry."
"To escape the false prince. More fairy-tale."
"But I am twenty-one and I've got the very watch that papa gave me onmy birthday."
"Let me see it."
She drew out a beautiful little diamond-studded chronometer of foreignand very expensive make.
"Most inappropriate for a child of your age," commented the otherseverely. "Ha! Here we are. Fairy Godfather--that's me--to the rescue."He read from the inner case of the watch. "'To my darling Cecily on her21st birthday, from Father.' Not strictly legal, but good enough," heobserved. "We shall now go forth and kill the dragon. That is to say,tell the captain the time of day."
"What fun! But--Judge Enderby."
"Well?"
"Don't tell Mr.--your other client, will you?"
"Why not?"
"I don't want him to know."
"But, you see, my duty to him as his legal adviser certainly demandsthat--"
"You're my legal adviser, too. Isn't my five dollars as good as his?Particularly when it really is his five dollars?"
"Allowed."
"Well, then, my age is a confidential communication and--what do youcall it?--privileged."
"Oh, wise young judge! But, fair Portia, don't let me perish ofcuriosity. Why?"
"My revenge isn't complete yet."
"Look out for the inner edge of that tool," he warned.
With the timepiece in his hand, Judge Enderby bearded the autocrat ofthe Clan Macgregor on his own deck to such good purpose that Miss CecilyWayne presently learned of the end of her troubles so far as prospectiveincarceration went. The knowledge, preserved intact for her own uses,put in her hand a dire weapon for the discomfiture of the Tyro.
Thereafter the ship's company was treated to the shameful spectacle of ayoung man hunted, harried, and beset by a Diana of the decks; cheviedout of comfortable chairs, flushed from odd nooks and corners, baitedopenly in saloon and reading-room, trailed as with the wile of theserpent along devious passageways and through crowded assemblages, hareto her hound, up and down, high and low, until he became a byword amonghis companions for the stricken eye of eternal watchfulness. Sometimesthe persecutress stalked him, unarmed; anon she threatened with afive-dollar bill. Now she trailed in a deadly silence; again, when therewere few to hear, she bayed softly upon the spoor, and ever in her eyesgleamed the wild light and wild laughter of the chase.
Once she penned him. He had ensconced himself in a corner behind one ofthe lifeboats, where, with uncanny instinct, she spied him. Before hecould escape, she had shut off egress.
"How do you do?" she said demurely.
He took off his cap, but with a sidelong eye seemed to be measuring thejump to the deck below.
"You've forgotten me, I'm afraid. I'm Little Miss Grouch. Would thishelp you to remember?"
She extended a five-dollar bill. He took it with the expression of oneto whom a nice, shiny blade has just been handed for purposes ofhara-kiri.
"I have missed you," she pursued with diabolical plaintiveness. "Ourchild--our adopted child," she corrected, the pink running up under herskin, "has been crying for you."
"Go away!" said the Tyro hoarsely.
"Are these the manners of a Perfect Pig?" she reproached him. And withadorable sauciness she warbled a nursery ditty:--
"Lady once loved a pig. 'Honey,' said she, 'Pig, will you marry me?' 'Wrrumph!' said he.
"I can't grunt very nicely," she admitted. "You do it."
"Go away," he implored, gazing from side to side like a trapped animal."Somebody'll see you. They'll lock you up."
"Me? Why?" Her eyes opened wide in the loveliness of feigned surprise."Much more likely you. I doubt whether you really should be at large.Such a queer-acting person!"
"I--I'll write and explain," he said desperately.
"If you do, I'll show the letter to the captain."
He regarded her with a stricken gaze. "Wh--why the captain?"
"Being a helpless and unchaperoned young lady," she explained primly,"he is my natural guardian and protector. I think I see him coming now."
Legend is enriched by the picturesque fates of those who havehistorically affronted Heaven with prevarications no more flagrant thanthis. But did punishment, then, descend upon the fair, false, and frailperpetrator of this particular taradiddle? Not at all. The Tyro was thesole sufferer. Had the word been a bullet he could scarcely have droppedmore swiftly. When next he appeared to the enraptured gaze of theheckler, he was emerging, ventre ?terre, from beneath the far end ofthe life-boat.
"I'll be in my deck-chair between eight and nine to receive explanationsand apologies," was her Parthian shot, as he rose and fled.
At the time named, the Tyro took particularly good care to be at theextreme other side of the deck, where he maintained a wary lookout. Nottwice should the huntress catch him napping. But he reckoned without heremissaries. Lord Guenn presently sauntered up, paused, and surveyed thequarry with a twinkling eye.
"I'm commanded to bring you in, dead or alive," he said.
"It will be dead, then," said the Tyro.
"What's the little game? Some of your American rag-josh, I believe youcall it?"
"Something of that nature," admitted the other.
"This will be a blow to Cissy," observed his lordship. "She's used tohaving 'em come to heel at the first whistle. I say, Mr. Daddleskink--"
"My name's not Daddleskink," the Tyro informed him morosely.
"I beg your pardon if I mispronounced it. How--"
"Smith," said the proprietor of that popular cognomen.
"I say," cried the Briton in vast surprise, "that's worse than ourpronouncing 'Castelreagh' 'Derby' for short!"
"S-m-i-t-h, Smith. The other was a joke and a very bum one! AlexanderForsyth Smith from now on."
"Hullo! What price the Forsyth?" Lord Guenn regarded him with increasedinterest. "Did Miss Wayne say something about your having an interest inher house on the Battery?"
"My house," corrected the other. "Yes, I've got an old option, dependingon a ground-lease, that's come down in the family."
"What family?"
"The Forsyths. My grandmother was born in that house."
"Then our portrait of the Yank--of the American who looks like you atGuenn Oaks is your great-grandfather."
"I suppose so."
"Well met!" said Lord Guenn. "There are some sketches of the Forsythplace as it used to be at Guenn Oaks that would interest you. Myancestor was a bit of a dab with his brush."
"Indeed they'd interest me," returned the Tyro, "if they show the oldboundary-lines. My claim on which I hope to buy in the property rests onthe original lot, and that's in question now. There are some otherpeople trying to hold me off--But that's another matter," he concludedhastily, as he recalled who his rival was.
"Quite the same matter. It's Cecily Wayne, isn't it?"
"Her father, I suppose. And as far as any evidence in your possessiongoes, of course I couldn't expect--considering that Miss Wayne'sinterests are involved--"
"Why on earth not, my dear fellow?"
"Well, I suppose--that is--I thought perhaps you--" floundered the Tyro,reddening.
Lord Guenn laughed outright. "You thought I was in the universal hunt?No, indeed! You see, I married Cecily's cousin. As for the house, I'mwith you. I believe in keeping those things in the family. I say, whereare you going when we land?"
"London, I suppose."
"Why not run up to Guenn Oaks for a week and see your great-grandad?Lady Guenn would be delighted. Cissy will be there, I shouldn't wonder."
"That's mighty good of you," said the Tyro. A sudden thought amusedhim. "Won't your ancestors turn over in their graves at having ahaberdasher at Guenn Oaks?"
"They would rise up to welcome any of the blood of Spencer Forsyth,"said the Briton seriously. "But what a people you are!" he continued."Now an English haberdasher may be a very admirable person, but--"
"Hold on a moment. I'm not really a haberdasher. While I was in collegeI invented an easy-slipping tie. A friend patented it and I still drawan income from it. It's just another of the tangle of mistakes I'vegotten into. As people have got the other notion, I don't care tocorrect it."
"That rotter, Sperry," said Lord Guenn with a grin--"I was glad to seeyou bowl him over. He's just a bit too impressed with his money. Fishedall over the shop for an invitation to Guenn Oaks, and when he couldn'tget it, wanted to buy the place. Bounder! Then you'll come?"
"Yes. I'll be delighted to."
"Jove! I'm forgetting my mission. Are you going to obey the imperialsummons?"
"Can't possibly," said the Tyro, "I'm very ill. Tell her, will you?"
Lord Guenn nodded. "Perhaps one of you will condescend to let me inpresently on all these plots and counterplots," he remarked as he walkedaway.
Left to himself the Tyro floated away on cloudy imaginings of gold androse-color. A week--a whole week--with Little Miss Grouch; a week offreedom on good, solid land, beyond the tyranny of captains, theespionage of self-appointed chaperons, and the interference of countlesssurrounding ninnies; a week on every day of which he could watch theplay of light and color in the face which had not been absent from histhoughts one minute since--
Thump! It was as if a huge fist had thrust up out of the ocean'sdepths and jolted the Clan Macgregor in the ribs. Several minor impactsjarred beneath his feet. Then the engines stopped, and the great hulkbegan to swing slowly to starboard in the still water.
Excited talk broke out. Questions to which nobody made reply filled theair. An officer hurried past.
"No. No damage done," he cried back mechanically over his shoulder.
Presently the engine resumed work. The rhythm appeared to the Tyro todrag. Dr. Alderson came along.
"Nothing at all," he said with the sang-froid of the experiencedtraveler. "Some little hitch in the machinery."
"Do you notice that there's a slant to the deck?" asked the Tyro in alow voice.
"Yes. Keep it to yourself. Most people won't notice it." And he walkedon, stopping to chat with an acquaintance here and there, and doing hisunofficial part to diffuse confidence.
One idea seized and possessed the Tyro. If that gently tilted deck meantdanger, his place was on the farther side of the ship. Quite casually,to avoid any suggestion of haste, he wandered around.
Little Miss Grouch was sitting in her chair, alone and quiet. As theTyro slipped, soft-footed, into the shelter of a shadow, he saw herstretch her hand out to a box of candy. She selected a round sweet, anddropped it on the deck. It rolled slowly into the scuppers. Again shetried the experiment, with the same result. She started to get up,changed her mind and settled back to wait.
The Tyro, leaning against the cabin, also waited. With no apparentcause--for he was sure he had made no noise--she turned her head andlooked into the sheltering shadow. She smiled, a very small but verycontented smile.
An officer came along the deck.
"The port screw," he paused to tell the waiting girl, "struck a bit ofwreckage and broke a blade. Absolutely no danger. We will be delayed alittle getting to port, that's all. I am glad you had the nerve to sitquiet," he added.
"I didn't know what else to do," she said.
She rose and gathered her belongings to her. Going to the entrance shepassed so near that he could have touched her. Yet she gave no sign ofknowledge that he was there; he was ready to believe that he had beenmistaken in thinking that her regard had penetrated his retreat. In thedoorway she turned.
"Good-night," she said, in a voice that thrilled in his pulses."And--thank you."