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In a Steamer Chair And Other Stories

R >> Robert Barr >> In a Steamer Chair And Other Stories




He stood by the gangway on the steamer watching the trunks, valises, and
portmanteaus come on board.

"Stop!" he cried to the man, "that is not to go down in the hold; I want
it. Don't you see it's marked 'wanted?'"

"It is very large, sir," said the man; "it will fill up a state-room by
itself."

"I have the captain's room," was the answer.

So the man flung the trunk down on the deck with a crash that made even
the cool Mr. Hardlock shudder.

"Did you say you had the captain's room, sir?" asked the steward
standing near.

"Yes."

"Then I am your bedroom steward," was the answer; "I will see that the
trunk is put in all right."

The first day out was rainy but not rough; the second day was fair and
the sea smooth. The second night Hardlock remained in the smoking-room
until the last man had left. Then, when the lights were extinguished, he
went out on the upper deck, where his room was, and walked up and down
smoking his cigar. There was another man also walking the deck, and the
red glow of his cigar, dim and bright alternately, shone in the darkness
like a glow-worm.

Hardlock wished that he would turn in, whoever he was. Finally the man
flung his cigar overboard and went down the stairway. Hartlock had now
the dark deck to himself. He pushed open the door of his room and turned
out the electric light. It was only a few steps from his door to the
rail of the vessel high above the water. Dimly on the bridge he saw the
shadowy figure of an officer walking back and forth. Hardlock looked
over the side at the phosphorescent glitter of the water which made the
black ocean seem blacker still. The sharp ring of the bell betokening
midnight made Melville start as if a hand had touched him, and the quick
beating of his heart took some moments to subside. "I've been smoking
too much to-day," he said to himself. Then looking quickly up and down
the deck, he walked on tip toe to his room, took the trunk by its stout
leather handle and pulled it over the ledge in the doorway. There were
small wheels at the bottom of the trunk, but although they made the
pulling of it easy, they seemed to creak with appalling loudness. He
realised the fearful weight of the trunk as he lifted the end of it up
on the rail. He balanced it there for a moment, and glanced sharply
around him, but there was nothing to alarm him. In spite of his natural
coolness, he felt a strange, haunting dread of some undefinable
disaster, a dread which had been completely absent from him at the time
he committed the murder. He shoved off the trunk before he had quite
intended to do so, and the next instant he nearly bit through his tongue
to suppress a groan of agony. There passed half a dozen moments of
supreme pain and fear before he realised what had happened. His wrist
had caught in the strap handle of the trunk, and his shoulder was
dislocated. His right arm was stretched taut and helpless, like a rope
holding up the frightful and ever-increasing weight that hung between
him and the sea. His breast was pressed against the rail and his left
hand gripped the iron stanchion to keep himself from going over. He felt
that his feet were slipping, and he set his teeth and gripped the iron
with a grasp that was itself like iron. He hoped the trunk would slip
from his useless wrist, but it rested against the side of the vessel,
and the longer it hung the more it pressed the hard strap handle into
his nerveless flesh. He had realised from the first that he dare not cry
for help, and his breath came hard through his clenched teeth as the
weight grew heavier and heavier. Then, with his eyes strained by the
fearful pressure, and perhaps dazzled by the glittering phosphorescence
running so swiftly by the side of the steamer far below, he seemed to
see from out the trunk something in the form and semblance of his dead
friend quivering like summer heat below him. Sometimes it was the
shimmering phosphorescence, then again it was the wraith hovering over
the trunk. Hardlock, in spite of his agony, wondered which it really
was; but he wondered no longer when it spoke to him.

"Old Friend," it said, "you remember our compact when we left England.
It was to be 'share and share alike,' my boy--'share and share alike.' I
have had my share. Come!"

Then on the still night air came the belated cry for help, but it was
after the foot had slipped and the hand had been wrenched from the iron
stanchion.




AN INTERNATIONAL ROW


"A simple child
That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in every limb,
What should it know of--" kicking up a row

(NOTE.--Only the last four words of the above poem are claimed as
original.)

"Then America declared war on England."--_History of_ 1812

Lady, not feeling particularly well, reclining in a steamer chair,
covered up with rags. Little girl beside her, who wants to know.
Gentleman in an adjoining steamer chair. The little girl begins to
speak.

"And do you have to pay to go in, mamma?"

"Yes, dear."

"How much do you have to pay? As much as at a theatre?"

"Oh, you need not pay anything particular--no set sum, you know. You pay
just what you can afford."

"Then it's like a collection at church, mamma?"

"Yes, dear."

"And does the captain get the money, mamma?"

"No, dear; the money goes to the poor orphans, I think."

"Where are the orphans, mamma?"

"I don't know, dear, I think they are in Liverpool."

"Whose orphans are they, mamma?"

"They are the orphans of sailors, dear."

"What kind of sailors, mamma?"

"British sailors, darling."

"Aren't there any sailors in America, mamma?"

"Oh yes, dear, lots of them."

"And do they have any orphans?"

"Yes, dear, I suppose there are orphans there too."

"And don't they get any of the money, mamma?"

"I am sure I do not know, dear. By the way, Mr. Daveling, how is that?
Do they give any of the money to American orphans?"

"I believe not, madam. Subscriptions at concerts given on board British
steamers are of course donated entirely to the Seamen's Hospital or
Orphanage of Liverpool."

"Well, that doesn't seem to be quite fair, does it? A great deal of the
money is subscribed by Americans."

"Yes, madam, that is perfectly true."

"I should think that ten Americans cross on these lines for every one
Englishman."

"I am sure I do not know, madam, what the proportion is. The Americans
are great travellers, so are the English too, for that matter."

"Yes; but I saw in one of the papers that this year alone over a hundred
thousand persons had taken their passage from New York to England. It
seems to me, that as all of them contribute to the receipts of the
concerts, some sort of a division should be made."

"Oh, I have no doubt if the case were presented to the captain, he
would be quite willing to have part of the proceeds at least go to some
American seamen's charity."

"I think that would be only fair."

Two young ladies, arm in arm, approach, and ask Mrs. Pengo how she is
feeling to-day.

Mrs. Pengo replies that she doesn't suppose she will feel any better as
long as this rolling of the ship continues.

They claim, standing there, endeavouring to keep as perpendicular as
possible, that the rolling is something simply awful.

Then the lady says to them, "Do you know, girls, that all the money
subscribed at the concerts goes to England?"

"Why, no; I thought it went to some charity."

"Oh, it _does_ go to a charity. It goes to the Liverpool Seamen's
Hospital."

"Well, isn't that all right?"

"Yes, it's all right enough; but, as Sadie was just suggesting now, it
doesn't seem quite fair, when there are orphans of sailors belonging to
America, and as long as such large sums are subscribed by Americans,
that the money should not be divided and part of it at least given to an
American charity."

"Why, that seems perfectly fair, doesn't it, Mr. Daveling?"

"Yes, it is perfectly fair. I was just suggesting that perhaps if the
state of things was presented to the captain, he would doubtless give a
portion at least of the proceeds to an American Seamen's Home--if such
an institution exists."

"Then," remarked the other girl, "I propose we form a committee, and
interview the captain. I think that if Americans subscribe the bulk of
the money, which they certainly do, they should have a voice in the
disposal of it."

This was agreed to on all hands, and so began one of the biggest rows
that ever occurred on board an Atlantic liner. Possibly, if the captain
had had any tact, and if he had not been so thoroughly impressed with
his own tremendous importance, what happened later on would not have
happened.

The lady in the steamer chair took little part in the matter, in fact it
was not at that time assumed to be of any importance whatever; but the
two young American girls were enthusiastic, and they spoke to several
of the passengers about it, both American and English. The English
passengers all recognised the justice of the proposed plan, so a
committee of five young ladies, and one young gentleman as spokesman,
waited upon the captain. The young ladies at first had asked the doctor
of the ship to be the spokesman; but when the doctor heard what the
proposal was, he looked somewhat alarmed, and stroked his moustache
thoughtfully.

"I don't know about that," he said; "it is a little unusual. The money
has always gone to the Liverpool Seamen's Hospital, and--well, you see,
we are a conservative people. We do a thing in one way for a number of
years, and then keep on doing it because we have always done it in that
way."

"Yes," burst out one of the young ladies, "that is no reason why an
unjust thing should be perpetuated. Merely because a wrong has been done
is no reason why it should be done again."

"True," said the doctor, "true," for he did not wish to fall out with
the young lady, who was very pretty; "but, you see, in England we think
a great deal of precedent."

And so the result of it all was that the doctor demurred at going to see
the captain in relation to the matter. He said it wouldn't be the thing,
as he was an official, and that it would be better to get one of the
passengers.

I was not present at the interview, and of course know only what was
told me by those who were there. It seems that the captain was highly
offended at being approached on such a subject at all. A captain of an
ocean liner, as I have endeavoured to show, is a very great personage
indeed. And sometimes I imagine the passengers are not fully aware of
this fact, or at least they do not show it as plainly as they ought to.
Anyhow, the committee thought the captain had been exceedingly gruff
with them, as well as just a trifle impolite. He told them that the
money from the concerts had always gone to the Liverpool Seamen's
Hospital, and always would while he was commanding a ship. He seemed to
infer that the permission given them to hold a concert on board the ship
was a very great concession, and that people should be thankful for the
privilege of contributing to such a worthy object.

So, beginning with the little girl who wanted to know, and ending with
the captain who commanded the ship, the conflagration was started.

Such is British deference to authority that, as soon as the captain's
decision was known, those who had hitherto shown an open mind on the
subject, and even those who had expressed themselves as favouring the
dividing of the money, claimed that the captain's dictum had settled the
matter. Then it was that every passenger had to declare himself. "Those
who are not with us," said the young women, "are against us." The ship
was almost immediately divided into two camps. It was determined to form
a committee of Americans to take the money received from the second
concert; for it was soon resolved to hold two concerts, one for the
American Seamen's Orphans' Home and the other for that at Liverpool.

One comical thing about the row was, that nobody on board knew whether
an American Seamen's Orphans' Home existed or not. When this problem
was placed before the committee of young people, they pooh-poohed the
matter. They said it didn't make any difference at all; if there was no
Seamen's Hospital in America, it was quite time there should be one; and
so they proposed that the money should be given to the future hospital,
if it did not already exist.

When everything was prepared for the second concert there came a bolt
from the blue. It was rumoured round the ship that the captain had
refused his permission for the second concert to be held. The American
men, who had up to date looked with a certain amused indifference on
the efforts of the ladies, now rallied and held a meeting in the
smoking-room. Every one felt that a crisis had come, and that the time
to let loose the dogs of war--sea-dogs in this instance--had arrived. A
committee was appointed to wait upon the captain next day. The following
morning the excitement was at its highest pitch. It was not safe for an
American to be seen conversing with an Englishman, or _vice versá._

Rumour had it at first--in fact all sorts of wild rumours were flying
around the whole forenoon--that the captain refused to see the
delegation of gentlemen who had requested audience with him. This
rumour, however, turned out to be incorrect. He received the delegation
in his room with one or two of the officers standing beside him. The
spokesman said--

"Captain, we are informed that you have concluded not to grant
permission to the Americans to hold a concert in aid of the American
Seamen's Orphans' Home. We wish to know if this is true?"

"You have been correctly informed," replied the captain.

"We are sorry to hear that," answered the spokesman. "Perhaps you will
not object to tell us on what grounds you have refused your permission?"

"Gentlemen," said the captain, "I have received you in my room because
you requested an interview. I may say, however, that I am not in the
habit of giving reasons for anything I do, to the passengers who honour
this ship with their company."

"Then," said the spokesman, endeavouring to keep calm, but succeeding
only indifferently, "it is but right that we should tell you that we
regard such a proceeding on your part as a high handed outrage; that we
will appeal against your decision to the owners of this steamship, and
that, unless an apology is tendered, we will never cross on this line
again, and we will advise all our compatriots never to patronise a line
where such injustice is allowed."

"Might I ask you," said the captain very suavely, "of what injustice you
complain?"

"It seems to us," said the spokesman, "that it is a very unjust thing
to allow one class of passengers to hold a concert, and to refuse
permission to another class to do the same thing."

"If that is all you complain of," said the captain, "I quite agree with
you. I think that would be an exceedingly unjust proceeding."

"Is not that what you are about to do?"

"Not that I am aware of."

"You have prohibited the American concert?"

"Certainly. But I have prohibited the English concert as well."

The American delegates looked rather blankly at each other, and then the
spokesman smiled. "Oh, well," he said, "if you have prohibited both of
them, I don't see that we have anything to grumble at."

"Neither do I," said the captain.

The delegation then withdrew; and the passengers had the unusual
pleasure of making one ocean voyage without having to attend the
generally inevitable amateur concert.




A LADIES MAN


"Jest w'en we guess we've covered the trail
So's no one can't foller, w'y then we fail
W'en we feel safe hid. Nemesis, the cuss,
Waltzes up with nary a warnin' nor fuss.
Grins quiet like, and says, 'How d'y do,
So glad we've met, I'm a-lookin' fer you'"

I do not wish to particularise any of the steamers on which the
incidents given in this book occurred, so the boat of which I now write
I shall call _The Tub_. This does not sound very flattering to the
steamer, but I must say _The Tub_ was a comfortable old boat, as
everybody will testify who has ever taken a voyage in her. I know a very
rich man who can well afford to take the best room in the best steamer
if he wants to, but his preference always is for a slow boat like _The
Tub_. He says that if you are not in a hurry, a slow boat is preferable
to one of the new fast liners, because you have more individuality
there, you get more attention, the officers are flattered by your
preference for their ship, and you are not merely one of a great mob of
passengers as in a crowded fast liner. The officers on a popular big and
swift boat are prone to be a trifle snobbish. This is especially the
case on the particular liner which for the moment stands at the top--a
steamer that has broken the record, and is considered the best boat in
the Atlantic service for the time being. If you get a word from the
captain of such a boat you may consider yourself a peculiarly honoured
individual, and even the purser is apt to answer you very shortly, and
make you feel you are but a worm of the dust, even though you have paid
a very large price for your state-room. On _The Tub_ there was nothing
of this. The officers were genial good fellows who admitted their boat
was not the fastest on the Atlantic, although at one time she had been;
but if _The Tub_ never broke the record, on the other hand, she never
broke a shaft, and so things were evened up. She wallowed her way across
the Atlantic in a leisurely manner, and there was no feverish anxiety
among the passengers when they reached Queenstown, to find whether the
rival boat had got in ahead of us or not.

Everybody on board _The Tub_ knew that any vessel which started from
New York the same day would reach Queenstown before us. In fact, a good
smart sailing vessel, with a fair wind, might have made it lively for
us in an ocean race. _The Tub_ was a broad slow boat, whose great
speciality was freight, and her very broadness, which kept her from
being a racer, even if her engines had had the power, made her
particularly comfortable in a storm. She rolled but little; and as the
state-rooms were large and airy, every passenger on board _The Tub_ was
sure of a reasonably pleasant voyage.

It was always amusing to hear the reasons each of the passengers gave
for being on board _The Tub_. A fast and splendid liner of an opposition
company left New York the next day, and many of our passengers explained
to me they had come to New York with the intention of going by that
boat, but they found all the rooms taken, that is, all the desirable
rooms. Of coarse they might have had a room down on the third deck; but
they were accustomed in travelling to have the best rooms, and if they
couldn't be had, why it didn't much matter what was given them, so that
was the reason they took passage on _The Tub_. Others were on the boat
because they remembered the time when she was one of the fastest on the
ocean, and they didn't like changing ships. Others again were particular
friends of the captain, and he would have been annoyed if they had taken
any other steamer. Everybody had some particularly valid reason for
choosing _The Tub_, that is, every reason except economy, for it was
well known that _The Tub_ was one of the cheapest boats crossing the
ocean. For my own part I crossed on her, because the purser was a
particular friend of mine, and knew how to amalgamate fluids and
different solid substances in a manner that produced a very palatable
refreshment. He has himself deserted _The Tub_ long ago, and is now
purser on one of the new boats of the same line.

When the gong rang for the first meal on hoard _The Tub_ after leaving
New York, we filed down from the smoking-room to the great saloon to
take our places at the table. There were never enough passengers on
board _The Tub_ to cause a great rush for places at the table; but on
this particular occasion, when we reached the foot of the stairway, two
or three of us stood for a moment both appalled and entranced. Sitting
at the captain's right hand was a somewhat sour and unattractive elderly
woman, who was talking to that smiling and urbane official. Down the
long table from where she sat, in the next fifteen seats were fifteen
young and pretty girls, most of them looking smilingly and expectantly
toward the stairway down which we were descending. The elderly woman
paused for a moment in her conversation with the captain, glanced along
the line of beauty, said sharply, 'Girls!' and instantly every face was
turned demurely toward the plate that was in front of it, and then we,
who had hesitated for a moment on the stairway, at once made a break,
not for our seats at the table, but for the purser.

"It's all right, gentlemen," said that charming man, before we could
speak; "it's all right. I've arranged your places down the table on the
opposite side. You don't need to say a word, and those of you who want
to change from the small tables to the large one, will find your names
on the long table as well as at the small tables, where you have already
chosen your places. So, you see, I knew just how you wished things
arranged; but," he continued, lowering his voice, "boys, there's a
dragon in charge. I know her. She has crossed with us two or three
times. She wanted me to arrange it so that fifteen ladies should sit
opposite her fifteen girls; but, of course, we couldn't do that, because
there aren't fifteen other ladies on board, and there had to be one or
two ladies placed next the girls at the foot of the table, so that no
girl should have a young man sitting beside her. I have done the best I
could, gentlemen, and, if you want the seats rearranged, I think we can
manage it for you. Individual preferences may crop up, you know." And
the purser smiled gently, for he had crossed the ocean very, very often.

We all took our places, sternly scrutinised by the lady, whom the purser
had flatteringly termed the "dragon." She evidently didn't think very
much of us as a crowd, and I am sure in my own heart I cannot blame her.
We were principally students going over to German colleges on the cheap,
some commercial travellers, and a crowd generally who could not afford
to take a better boat, although we had all just missed the fast liner
that had left a few days before, or had for some reason not succeeded in
securing a berth on the fast boat, which was to leave the day after.

If any of the fifteen young ladies were aware of our presence, they
did not show it by glancing toward us. They seemed to confine their
conversation to whispers among themselves, and now and then a little
suppressed giggle arose from one part of the line or the other, upon
which the "dragon" looked along the row, and said severely, "Girls!"
whereupon everything was quiet again, although some independent young
lady generally broke the silence by another giggle just at the time the
stillness was becoming most impressive.

After dinner, in the smoking-room, there was a great deal of discussion
about the fifteen pretty girls and about the "dragon." As the officers
on board _The Tub_ were gentlemen whom an ordinary person might speak
to, a delegation of one was deputed to go to the purser's room and
find out all that could be learned in relation to the young and lovely
passengers.

The purser said that the dragon's name was Mrs. Scrivener-Yapling, with
a hyphen. The hyphen was a very important part of the name, and Mrs.
Scrivener-Yapling always insisted upon it. Any one who ignored that
hyphen speedily fell from the good graces of Mrs. Scrivener-Yapling.
I regret to say, however, in spite of the hyphen, the lady was very
generally known as the "dragon" during that voyage. The purser told us
further, that Mrs. Scrivener-Yapling was in the habit of coming over
once a year with a party of girls whom she trotted around Europe. The
idea was that they learnt a great deal of geography, a good deal of
French and German, and received in a general way a polish which Europe
is supposed to give.

The circular which Mrs. Scrivener-Yapling issued was shown to me once
by one of the girls, and it represented that all travelling was
first-class, that nothing but the very best accommodations on steamers
and in hotels were provided, and on account of Mrs. S. Y.'s intimate
knowledge of Europe, and the different languages spoken there, she
managed the excursion in a way which any one else would find impossible
to emulate, and the advantages accruing from such a trip could not be
obtained in any other manner without a very much larger expenditure of
money. The girls had the advantage of motherly care during all the time
they were abroad, and as the party was strictly limited in number,
and the greatest care taken to select members only from the very best
families in America, Mrs. Scrivener-Yapling was certain that all her
patrons would realise that this was an opportunity of a lifetime, etc.,
etc.

Even if _The Tub_ were not the finest boat on the Atlantic, she
certainly belonged to one of the best lines, and as the circular
mentioned the line and not the particular vessel on which the excursion
was to go, the whole thing had a very high-class appearance.

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