Hurricane Island. Henry Brereton Marriott Watson
smiled. "No; I'm not," he said, "and please don't remind me of it"; at which we all laughed and grew friendly again. "Well, this is a funny sort of tea for me," said the clerk presently. "I generally patronise the A.B.C.," and he rose to go.
Holgate did not move, but sat staring at the fire, which shone on his broad placid face. "I knew a man once," he observed, "who kept his own counsel."
"I hope he was a lawyer," said Pye humourously.
"No; he was a steward—the steward of an estate in the North. In the hills was the wealth of a millionaire; coal, doctor," Holgate looked at me. "And he kept his counsel and held his tongue."
"With what object?" I asked.
"Oh, a little syndicate succeeded in buying it from the owner, and now it's a seven-figure affair."
His face had no expression of inquiry or of inviting comment. He had simply stated history, but I was moved to say flippantly,
"What luck!"
"The steward got it?" asked Pye.
"He romped in," said the third officer.
"And will presently be a baronet," said I lightly.
"Stranger things have happened," he remarked, and began to smile. I fancy we all smiled, though it was not, of course, altogether humourous.
"Is that called robbery?" asked Holgate.
"I doubt if the law covers it," said Pye. "No; it's quite an innocent transaction."
"What is robbery?" I asked cynically. "Lawyers may feel their way amid the intricacies, but no one else can hope to. I'm stealing now when I take these matches."
"I will follow your example," said Holgate, and did so.
"I'm not sure that that's not perks," said little Pye with his quizzical glance.
"Well, is it perks if I buy a picture from you for ten bob which I know to be worth £1,000?" inquired Holgate.
Pye considered. "I give it up," he said.
"Which only proves," said I, continuing my mood, "that it takes a good capercutter to move in and out moral sanctions."
"I don't believe I know what that means quite," said Holgate, giving me the full charge of his steady eyes.
I stooped and warmed my fingers, for the cold blast of the streets was forbidding. "Well, the most famous people have been those who have successfully performed the egg dance between commandments," I remarked.
"I suppose they have," said Holgate thoughtfully.
I rose abruptly, and in the glass above the mantelpiece the two figures behind me came into vision. The little clerk's eyebrows were elevated in a question, and the men faced each other. Holgate's lips were pursed and he nodded. I saw this in the flash of rising, and then I turned about.
"I shall get a wigging," said Pye, seizing his umbrella.
We walked out and I bade them good-bye after a civil exchange of amenities; then I took an omnibus down Chancery Lane and made for the Underground. As I travelled back, my thoughts circled about the situation; I was glad to have made the acquaintance of one or more of my shipmates, if, of course, I was to join the company. Holgate puzzled me for a third officer, until I reflected that in these days every officer had a master's licence. Yet that this man should not by the force of his evident individuality take higher rank in life surprised me. What, however, was of most immediate concern to me was the extreme friendliness of my two companions. Lane was well enough in his way, and certainly had shown his goodwill; but Holgate was more than this to a lonely man with an appetite for society. Holgate was intelligent.
I found a few patients waiting, and disposed of them by eight o'clock, after which I strolled down to the docks, in spite of the drizzle. I have said that I am interested in my fellows, and, in addition, I confess to a certain forethought. I walked down to the docks with the deliberate intention of acquiring some information about the Sea Queen, if that were possible. I knew the name of the owner, or at least of the man who had chartered her; I had the name and acquaintance of one or two of the company; but I knew nothing as to her destination, her properties as a boat, or her time of sailing. Some of this ignorance I hoped to remedy by my visit. And it seemed that I was in the way to do so from the start. For no sooner was I on the quay in the neighbourhood of the yacht than I came upon a handsome young man in the dress of a superior sailor, with whom I fell into talk. He was outspoken as a child, but volunteered nothing of his own initiative—an amiable, sluggish, respectful fellow who was, as he stated, quartermaster on the Sea Queen.
I confessed my interest in her, at which he indulgently supplied me with information.
"I signed on at Glasgow, sir—and most of us too—and we picked up Mr. Morland at Hamburg—him and the ladies."
"The ladies!" I echoed, for here was a surprise.
"Yes; two ladies what came with him—Miss Morland and another lady, a dark one," said my friend.
"Oh!" said I. "Then you're off for a pleasure cruise."
"I hardly know, sir," said he. "They do say New York, but I haven't heard definite."
That looked in favour of my theory of Mr. Morland as an American. He was perhaps a Trust King, and Miss Morland a vivacious "beauty" from Chicago.
Here my companion suggested that I might care to have a look at the yacht.
"My friend," said I, "you mustn't let me take you on false pretences. I may be your doctor, and I may be not."
"Oh, that's all right, sir," said he easily. "It can't do no harm. We're only loading up with provisions, and there's no mess about."
We ascended the gangway, and entered the dark ship, which was singularly silent. He had already the sailor's affection for his floating home, and pointed me out one or two points for admiration which I understood but ill, as they were technical. As we were peeping into the saloon, a man passed us and stopped sharply.
"That you, Ellison?" he asked in a harsh voice. "Who's that?"
"Only a gentleman having a look round. He's to be doctor," said the quartermaster.
The man made no reply, but stared at me, and then went on swiftly.
"Rather abrupt," I commented, smiling.
"Oh, that's nothing. It is only his way," said the good-natured fellow. "He's the boatswain."
"Is Mr. Morland an American?" I asked.
"I don't know, sir. I've hardly seen him. We signed on at Glasgow with a little slip of a fellow representing Mr. Morland—glasses and side-whiskers."
"That would be Mr. Pye," I said.
"Very likely. Would you like to take a squint at the engines? Mr. McCrae is on board."
He led me, without waiting for answer, towards the engine-room, and called out, "Mr. McCrae!" which brought presently a little, red-faced, bearded man from the depths. "This gentleman wants to know what you can do," said my friend, by way of introduction. The engineer nodded towards me. "We can make eighteen," he said, wiping his hands on a greasy piece of rag. "Eighteen at a pinch, but I keep her going steady at fourteen."
"A good boat!" said I.
"Aye, tolerable," he said, and pulled out a sheet of paper, which he began to peruse under the slender light. "This now's another slap in the eye for the Emperor," said McCrae, "this business of the Prince."
"What is it?" I asked. "I haven't seen the papers to-night."
He rapped his knuckles on the newspaper. "This Prince Frederic of Hochburg kicking over the traces. I tell ye I'm real sorry for the old man. I pity him, Emperor though he be. He's had his sup of troubles."
"But I don't understand what this new one is," I said.
McCrae was not above explaining. "Well, y'see, this Prince Frederic is the heir to the Duchy of Hochburg, and he has taken up with some singer, and swears he'll resign his inheritance and marry her. That's where the mischief is. Not that the man's not right," proceeded the Scotchman,