A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P R S T U V W X Z

In a Steamer Chair And Other Stories

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




The first morning out, shortly after, breakfast, the "dragon" and her
girls appeared on deck. The girls walked two and two together, and kept
their eyes pretty much on the planks beneath them. The fifteenth girl
walked with the "dragon," and thus the eight pairs paced slowly up and
down the deck under the "dragon's" eye. When this morning promenade was
over the young ladies were marshalled into the ladies' saloon, where no
masculine foot was allowed to tread. Shortly before lunch an indignation
meeting was held in the smoking-room. Stewart Montague, a commercial
traveller from Milwaukee, said that he had crossed the ocean many times,
but had never seen such a state of things before. This young ladies'
seminary business (he alluded to the two and two walk along the deck)
ought not to be permitted on any well regulated ship. Here were a number
of young ladies, ranging in age from eighteen upwards, and there
lay ahead of us a long and possibly dreary voyage, yet the "dragon"
evidently expected that not one of the young ladies was to be allowed to
speak to one of the young gentlemen on board, much less walk the deck
with him. Now, for his part, said Stewart Montague, he was going to take
off his hat the next morning to the young lady who sat opposite him at
the dinner-table and boldly ask her to walk the deck with him. If the
"dragon" interfered, he proposed that we all mutiny, seize the vessel,
put the captain in irons, imprison the "dragon" in the hold, and then
take to pirating on the high seas. One of the others pointed out to him
an objection to this plan, claiming that _The Tub_ could not overtake
anything but a sailing-vessel, while even that was doubtful. Montague
explained that the mutiny was only to be resorted to as a last desperate
chance. He believed the officers of the boat would give us every
assistance possible, and so it was only in case of everything else
failing that we should seize the ship.

In a moment of temporary aberration I suggested that the "dragon" might
not be, after all, such an objectionable person as she appeared, and
that perhaps she could be won over by kindness. Instantly a motion was
put, and carried unanimously, appointing me a committee to try the
effect of kindness on the "dragon." It was further resolved that the
meeting should be adjourned, and I should report progress at the next
conclave.

I respectfully declined this mission. I said it was none of my affair. I
didn't wish to talk to any of the fifteen girls, or even walk the deck
with them. I was perfectly satisfied as I was. I saw no reason why I
should sacrifice myself for the good of others. I suggested that the
name of Stewart Montague be substituted for mine, and that he should
face the "dragon" and report progress.

Mr. Montague said it had been my suggestion, not his, that the "dragon"
might be overcome by kindness. He did not believe she could, but he was
quite willing to suspend hostilities until my plan had been tried and
the result reported to the meeting. It was only when they brought in
a motion to expel me from the smoking-room that I succumbed to the
pressure. The voyage was just beginning, and what is a voyage to a
smoker who dare not set foot in the smoking-room?

I do not care to dwell on the painful interview I had with the "dragon."
I put my foot in it at the very first by pretending that I thought she
came from New York, whereas she had really come from Boston. To take a
New York person for a Bostonian is flattery, but to reverse the order
of things, especially with a woman of the uncertain temper of Mrs.
Scrivener-Yapling, was really a deadly insult, and I fear this helped to
shipwreck my mission, although I presume it would have been shipwrecked
in any case. Mrs. Scrivener-Yapling gave me to understand that if there
was one thing more than another she excelled in it was the reading of
character. She knew at a glance whether a man could be trusted or not;
most men were not, I gathered from her conversation. It seems she had
taken a great many voyages across the Atlantic, and never in the whole
course of her experience had she seen such an objectionable body of
young men as on this present occasion. She accused me of being a married
man, and I surmised that there were other iniquities of which she
strongly suspected me.

The mission was not a success, and I reported at the adjourned meeting
accordingly.

Mr. Stewart Montague gave it as his opinion that the mission was
hopeless from the first, and in this I quite agreed with him. He said he
would try his plan at dinner, but what it was he refused to state. We
asked if he would report on the success or failure, and he answered that
we would all see whether it was a success or failure for ourselves. So
there was a good deal of interest centring around the meal, an interest
not altogether called forth by the pangs of hunger.

Dinner had hardly commenced when Mr. Stewart Montague leaned over the
table and said, in quite an audible voice, to the young lady opposite
him, "I understand you have never been over the ocean before?"

The young lady looked just a trifle frightened, blushed very prettily,
and answered in a low voice that she had not.

Then he said, "I envy you the first impressions you will have of Europe.
It is a charming country. Where do you go after leaving England?"

"We are going across to Paris first," she replied, still in a low voice.

Most of us, however, were looking at the "dragon." That lady sat bolt
upright in her chair as if she could not believe her ears. Then she
said, in an acid voice, "Miss Fleming."

"Yes, Mrs. Scrivener-Yapling," answered that young lady.

"Will you oblige me by coming here for a moment?"

Miss Fleming slowly revolved in her circular chair, then rose and walked
up to the head of the table.

"Miss Strong," said the "dragon" calmly, to the young lady who sat
beside her, "will you oblige me by taking Miss Fleming's place at the
centre of the table?"

Miss Strong rose and took Miss Fleming's place.

"Sit down beside me, please?" said the "dragon" to Miss Fleming; and
that unfortunate young woman, now as red as a rose, sat down beside the
"dragon."

Stewart Montague bit his lip. The rest of us said nothing, and appeared
not to notice what had occurred. Conversation went on among ourselves.
The incident seemed ended; but, when the fish was brought, and placed
before Miss Fleming, she did not touch it. Her eyes were still upon the
table. Then, apparently unable to struggle any longer with her emotions,
she rose gracefully, and, bowing to the captain, said, "Excuse me,
please." She walked down the long saloon with a firm step, and
disappeared. The "dragon" tried to resume conversation with the
captain as if nothing had happened; but that official answered only in
monosyllables, and a gloom seemed to have settled down upon the dinner
party.

Very soon the captain rose and excused himself. There was something to
attend to on deck, he said, and he left us.

As soon as we had reassembled in the smoking-room, and the steward had
brought in our cups of black coffee, Stewart Montague arose and said,
"Gentlemen, I know just what you are going to say to me. It _was_
brutal. Of course I didn't think the 'dragon' would do such a thing. My
plan was a complete failure. I expected that conversation would take
place across the table all along the line, if I broke the ice."

Whatever opinions were held, none found expression, and that evening in
the smoking-room was as gloomy as the hour at the dinner-table.

Towards the shank of the evening a gentleman, who had never been in the
smoking-room before, entered very quietly. We recognised him as the man
who sat to the left of the captain opposite the "dragon." He was a man
of middle age and of somewhat severe aspect. He spoke with deliberation
when he did speak, and evidently, weighed his words. All we knew of him
was that the chair beside his at meal-times had been empty since the
voyage began, and it was said that his wife took her meals in her
state-room. She had appeared once on deck with him, very closely veiled,
and hung upon his arm in a way that showed she was not standing the
voyage very well, pleasant as it had been.

"Gentlemen," began the man suavely, "I would like to say a few words to
you if I were certain that my remarks would be taken in the spirit in
which they are given, and that you would not think me intrusive or
impertinent."

"Go ahead," said Montague, gloomily, who evidently felt a premonition of
coming trouble.

The serious individual waited until the steward had left the room, then
he closed the door. "Gentlemen," he continued, "I will not recur to the
painful incident which happened at the dinner-table to-night
further than by asking you, as honourable men, to think of Mrs.
Scrivener-Yapling's position of great responsibility. She stands in the
place of a mother to a number of young ladies who, for the first time in
their lives, have left their homes."

"Lord pity them," said somebody, who was sitting in the corner.

The gentleman paid no attention to the remark.

"Now what I wish to ask of you is that you will not make Mrs.
Scrivener-Yapling's position any harder by futile endeavours to form the
acquaintance of the young ladies."

At this point Stewart Montague broke out. "Who the devil are you, sir,
and who gave you the right to interfere?"

"As to who I am," said the gentleman, quietly, "my name is Kensington,
and--"

"West or South?" asked the man in the corner.

At this there was a titter of laughter.

"My name is Kensington," repeated the gentleman, "and I have been asked
by Mrs. Scrivener-Yapling to interfere, which I do very reluctantly. As
I said at the beginning, I hope you will not think my interference is
impertinent. I only do so at the earnest request of the lady I have
mentioned, because I am a family man myself, and I understand and
sympathise with the lady in the responsibility which she has assumed."

"It seems to me," said the man in the corner, "that if the 'dragon' has
assumed responsibilities and they have not been thrust upon her, which I
understand they have not, then she must take the responsibility of the
responsibilities which she has assumed. Do I make myself clear?"

"Gentlemen," said Mr. Kensington, "it is very painful for me to speak
with you upon this subject. I feel that what I have so clumsily
expressed may not be correctly understood; but I appeal to your honour
as gentlemen, and I am sure I will not appeal in vain when I ask you not
to make further effort towards the acquaintance of the young ladies,
because all that you can succeed in doing will be to render their voyage
unpleasant to themselves, and interrupt, if not seriously endanger,
the good feeling which I understand has always existed between Mrs.
Scrivener-Yapling and her _protégées_."

"All right," said the man in the corner. "Have a drink, Mr. Kensington?"

"Thank you, I never drink," answered Mr. Kensington.

"Have a smoke, then?"

"I do not smoke either, thank you all the same for your offer. I hope,
gentlemen, you will forgive my intrusion on you this evening. Good
night."

"Impudent puppy," said Stewart Montague, as he closed the door behind
him.

But in this we did not agree with him, not even the man in the corner.

"He is perfectly right," said that individual, "and I believe that we
ought to be ashamed of ourselves. It will only make trouble, and I for
one am going to give up the hunt."

So, from that time forward, the smoking-room collectively made no effort
towards the acquaintance of the young ladies. The ladies' seminary walk,
as it was called, took place every morning punctually, and sometimes
Mr. Kensington accompanied the walkers. Nevertheless, individual
friendships, in spite of everything that either Mr. Kensington or the
"dragon" could do, sprang up between some of the young men and some of
the girls, but the "dragon" had an invaluable ally in Mr. Kensington.
The moment any of the young ladies began walking with any of the young
gentlemen on deck, or the moment they seated themselves in steamer
chairs together, the urbane, always polite Mr. Kensington appeared on
the scene and said, "Miss So-and-So, Mrs. Scrivener-Yapling would like
to speak with you."

Then the young lady would go with Mr. Kensington, while the young
gentleman was apt to use strong language and gnash his teeth.

Mr. Kensington seemed lynx-eyed. There was no escaping him. Many in the
smoking-room no doubt would have liked to have picked a flaw in his
character if they could. One even spoke of the old chestnut about a man
who had no small vices being certain to have some very large ones; but
even the speakers themselves did not believe this, and any one could see
at a glance that Mr. Kensington was a man of sterling character. Some
hinted that his wife was the victim of his cruelty, and kept her
state-room only because she knew that he was so fond of the "dragon's"
company, and possibly that of some of the young ladies as well. But
this grotesque sentiment did not pass current even in the smoking-room.
Nevertheless, although he was evidently so good a man, he was certainly
the most unpopular individual on board _The Tub_. The hatred that
Stewart Montague felt for him ever since that episode in the
smoking-room was almost grotesque.

Montague had somehow managed to get a contrite note of apology and
distress to Miss Fleming, and several times the alert Mr. Kensington had
caught them together, and asked Miss Fleming with the utmost respect to
come down and see Mrs. Scrivener-Yapling.

All in all the "dragon" did not have a very easy time of it. She fussed
around like any other old hen who had in charge a brood of ducks.

Once I thought there was going to be a row between Montague and
Kensington. He met that gentleman in a secluded part of the deck, and,
going up to him, said--

"You old wife deserter, why can't you attend to your own affairs?"

Kensington turned deadly pale at this insult, and his fists clinched--

"What do you mean?" he said huskily.

"I mean what I say. Why don't you take your own wife walking on the
deck, and leave the young ladies alone. It's none of your business with
whom they walk."

Kensington seemed about to reply; but he thought better of it, turned on
his heel, and left Montague standing there.

The old _Tub_ worried her way across the ocean, and reached the bar at
Liverpool just in time to be too late to cross it that night. Word was
passed along that a tender would come out from Liverpool for us, which
was not a very cheering prospect, as we would have two hours' sail at
least in what was practically an open boat.

Finally the tender came alongside, and the baggage was dumped down
upon it. All of us gathered together ready to leave _The Tub_. Mr.
Kensington, with his closely-veiled wife hanging on his arm, was
receiving the thanks and congratulations of the "dragon." The fifteen
girls were all around her. Before any one started down the sloping
gangway plank, however, two policemen, accompanied by a woman, hurried
up on board _The Tub_.

"Now, madam," said the policeman, "is he here?"

We saw that trouble was coming, and everybody looked at everybody else.

"Is he here?" cried the woman excitedly; "there he stands, the villain.
Oh, you villain, you scoundrel, you _mean_ rascal, to leave me, as you
thought, penniless in New York, and desert your own wife and family for
that--that creature!" We all looked at Kensington, and his face was
greenish-pale. The heavily veiled woman shrunk behind him and the
policeman tried to make the true wife keep quiet.

"Is your name Braughton?"

Kensington did not answer. His eyes were riveted on his wife. "In the
name of God," he cried aghast, "how did _you_ come here?"

"How did I come here," she shrieked. "Oh, you thought you slipped away
nicely, didn't you? But you forgot that the _Clipper_ left the next day,
and I've been here two days waiting for you. You little thought when
you deserted me and my children in New York that we would be here to
confront you at Liverpool."

"Come, come." said the policeman, "there's no use of this. I am afraid
you will have to come with us, sir."

They took him in charge, and the irate wife then turned like a tigress
on the heavily veiled woman who was with him.

"No wonder you are ashamed to show your face," she cried.

"Come, come," said the policeman, "come, come." And they managed to
induce her to say no more.

"Madam," said young Montague to the speechless 'dragon,' "I want to ask
your permission to allow me to carry Miss Fleming's hand-baggage
ashore."

"How dare you speak to me, sir?" she answered.

"Because," he said, in a low voice, "I thought perhaps you wouldn't
like an account of this affair to go to the Boston newspapers. I'm a
newspaper man, you see," he added, with unblushing mendacity. Then,
turning to Miss Fleming, he said, "Won't you allow me to carry this for
you?"

Miss Fleming surrendered the natty little handbag she had with her, and
smiled. The "dragon" made no objection.



A SOCIETY FOR THE REFORMATION OF POKER PLAYERS.

"O Unseen Hand that ever makes and deals us,
And plays our game!
That now obscures and then to light reveals us,
Serves blanks of fame
How vain our shuffling, bluff and weak pretending!
Tis Thou alone can name the final ending"

The seductive game of poker is one that I do not understand. I do not
care to understand it, because it cannot be played without the putting
up of a good deal of the coin of the realm, and although I have nothing
to say against betting, my own theory of conduct in the matter is this,
that I want no man's money which I do not earn, and I do not want any
man to get my money unless he earns it. So it happens, in the matter of
cards, I content myself with eucre and other games which do not require
the wagering of money.

On board the Atlantic steamers there is always more or less gambling. I
have heard it said that men make trips to and fro merely for the purpose
of fleecing their fellow-passengers; but, except in one instance, I
never had any experience with this sort of thing.

Our little society for the reformation of poker players, or to speak
more correctly, for the reformation of one particular poker player, was
formed one bright starlight night, latitude such a number, and longitude
something else, as four of us sat on a seat at the extreme rear end of
the great steamer. We four, with one other, sat at a small table in
the saloon. One of the small tables on a Transatlantic steamer is very
pleasant if you have a nice crowd with you. A seat at a small table
compares with a seat at the large table as living in a village compares
with living in a city. You have some individuality at the short table;
you are merely one of a crowd at the long table. Our small table was not
quite full. I had the honour of sitting at the head of it, and on each
side of me were two young fellows, making five altogether. We all rather
prided ourselves on the fact that there were no ladies at our little
table.

The young Englishman who sat at my right hand at the corner of the table
was going out to America to learn farming. I could, myself, have taught
him a good deal about it, but I refrained from throwing cold water on
his enthusiastic ideas about American agriculture. His notion was that
it was an occupation mostly made up of hunting and fishing, and having
a good time generally. The profits, he thought, were large and easily
acquired. He had guns with him, and beautiful fishing-rods, and things
of that sort. He even had a vague idea that he might be able to
introduce fox-hunting in the rural district to which he was going. He
understood, and regretted the fact, that we in the United States were
rather behind-hand in the matter of fox-hunting. He had a good deal of
money with him, I understood, and he had already paid a hundred pounds
to a firm in England that had agreed to place him on a farm in America.
Of course, now that the money had been paid, there was no use in telling
the young man he had been a fool. He would find that out soon enough
when he got to America. Henry Storm was his name, and a milder mannered
man with a more unsuitable name could hardly be found. The first two or
three days out he was the life of our party. We all liked him, in fact,
nobody could help liking him; but, as the voyage progressed, he grew
more and more melancholy, and, what was really serious, took little
food, which is not natural in an Englishman. I thought somebody had
been telling him what a fool he had been to pay away his hundred pounds
before leaving England, but young Smith of Rochester, who sat at my
left, told me what the trouble was one day as we walked the deck. "Do
you know," he began, "that Henry Storm is being robbed?"

"Being robbed?" I answered; "you mean he has been robbed."

"Well, has been, and is being, too. The thing is going on yet. He is
playing altogether too much poker in the smoking-room, and has lost a
pile of money--more, I imagine, than he can well afford."

"That's what's the trouble with him, is it? Well, he ought to know
better than to play for bigger stakes than he can afford to lose."

"Oh, it's easy to say that; but he's in the hands of a swindler, of a
professional gambler. You see that man?" He lowered his voice as he
spoke, and I looked in the direction of his glance. By this time we
knew, in a way, everybody on board the ship. The particular man Smith
pointed out was a fellow I had noticed a good deal, who was very quiet
and gentlemanly, interfering with nobody, and talking with few. I had
spoken to him once, but he had answered rather shortly, and, apparently
to his relief, and certainly to my own, our acquaintance ceased where it
began. He had jet black beard and hair, both rather closely clipped; and
he wore a fore and aft cap, which never improves a man's appearance very
much.

"That man," continued Smith, as he passed us, "was practically under
arrest for gambling on the steamer in which I came over. It seems that
he is a regular professional gambler, who does nothing but go across the
ocean and back again, fleecing young fellows like Storm."

"Does he cheat?" I asked.

"He doesn't need to. He plays poker. An old hand, and a cool one, has
no occasion to cheat at that game to get a young one's money away from
him."

"Then why doesn't some one warn young Storm?"

"Well, that's just what I wanted to speak to you about. I think it ought
to be done. I think we should call a meeting of our table, somewhere out
here in the quiet, and have a talk over it, and make up our mind what
is to be done. It's a delicate matter, you know, and I am afraid we are
a little late as it is. I do believe young Storm has lost nearly all his
money to that fellow."

"Can't he be made to disgorge?"

"How? The money has been won fairly enough, as that sort of thing goes.
Other fellows have played with them. It isn't as if he had been caught
cheating--he hasn't, and won't be. He doesn't cheat--he doesn't need to,
as I said before. Now that gambler pretends he is a commercial traveller
from Buffalo. I know Buffalo down to the ground, so I took him aside
yesterday and said plumply to him, 'What firm in Buffalo do you
represent?' He answered shortly that his business was his own affair.
I said, 'Certainly it is, and you are quite right in keeping it dark.
When I was coming over to Europe, I saw a man in your line of business
who looked very much like you, practically put under arrest by the
purser for gambling. You were travelling for a St. Louis house then.'"

"What did he say to that?"

"Nothing; he just gave me one of those sly, sinister looks of his,
turned on his heel, and left me."

The result of this conversation was the inauguration of the Society for
the Reforming of a Poker Player. It was agreed between us that if young
Storm had lost all his money we would subscribe enough as a loan to take
care of him until he got a remittance from home. Of course we knew that
any young fellow who goes out to America to begin farming, does not,
as a general rule, leave people in England exceedingly well off, and
probably this fact, more than any other, accounted for the remorse
visible on Storm's countenance. We knew quite well that the offering of
money to him would be a very delicate matter, but it was agreed that
Smith should take this in hand if we saw the offer was necessary. Then
I, as the man who sat at the head of the table, was selected to speak to
young Storm, and, if possible, get him to abandon poker. I knew this was
a somewhat impudent piece of business on my part, and so I took that
evening to determine how best to perform the task set for me. I resolved
to walk the deck with him in the morning, and have a frank talk over the
matter.

When the morning came, I took young Storm's arm and walked two or three
turns up and down the deck, but all the while I could not get up courage
enough to speak with him in relation to gambling. When he left me, I
again thought over the matter. I concluded to go into the smoking-room
myself, sit down beside him, see him lose some money and use that fact
as a test for my coming discourse on the evils of gambling. After
luncheon I strolled into the smoking-room, and there sat this dark-faced
man with his half-closed eyes opposite young Storm, while two others
made up the four-handed game of poker.

Copyright (c) 2007. famouswriterz.com. All rights reserved.