Gideon's Band: A Tale of the Mississippi. George Washington Cable
use of deckhands and Dutchmen for the purpose.
His replies were in undertone: "Come up! Hush your noise, your mother'll hear you! Come on! Come up!"
On the boiler deck they halted. The crowd filled the stair beneath and he marvelled once more as he gazed on the two young Hectors, who, true to their ideals and loathing the obliquities of a moral world that left them off deputations, blazed with self-approval in a plight whose shame burned through him, Hugh Courteney, by sheer radiation.
"And as sure," said Julian, "as sure as hell, sir, your life's blood or that of your kin shall one day pay for this! To-night we are helpless. What is your wish?"
"My father's wish is that you go to your stateroom and berths and keep your word of honor given to him."
"That, sir, is what we were doing when a hired ruffian——"
"Never mind the hired ruffian. Charge that to me."
"Oh, sir, it is charged!" said the two. "And the charge will be collected!" They went their way.
[Footnote 1:
[Listen to a midi file of this music]
XIII
THE SUPERABOUNDING RAMSEY
In his hurricane-deck chair, with eyes out ahead on the water, John Courteney gently took his son's hand as the latter, returning to his side, stood without a word.
"Tucked in, are they, both of them?"
No reply.
"Hugh, I hear certain gentlemen are coming to ask me to put our deck passengers ashore."
"You can't do it, sir."
"Would you like to tell them so?"
"I'd like nothing better."
"Now that you've tasted blood, eh?"
No reply.
"It wouldn't be a mere putting of bad boys to bed, my son. It would be David and Goliath, with Goliath in the plural."
"Can't I pass them on to you if I find I must?"
"Of course you can. Hugh, I'm tempted to try you."
"I wish you would, sir."
"With no coaching? No 'Polonius to the players'?"
"I wish you would."
The father looked into the sky. "Superb night," he said.
Again no reply.
"Were you not deep in the spell of it when I found you here awhile ago?"
"Yes, I was."
"My son, I covet your better acquaintance."
"You mean I—say so little?"
"You reveal yourself so little. Even your mother felt that, Hugh."
"I know it, father. And yet, as for you——"
"Yes—as for me——?"
"I've never seen you without wanting to tell out all that's in me." The pair smiled to each other.
"And you say that at last, now, you can do it?"
"Did I say that, sir?"
"Not in words. But you seem all at once to be seeing things—taking hold of things—in a new way."
"The things themselves are new, sir. They're small, but—somehow—they've helped me on."
"Couldn't I guess one of them?"
"I hardly think so, sir; they're really such trifles."
"Well, for a first attempt, Ramsey."
"Yes. How did you guess that?"
"She's such a persuasive example of perfect openness."
"Her mother's a much lovelier one."
"No, Hugh; allowing for years, Miss Ramsey's even a better. But—another small thing—shall I mention it?"
"Yes, please."
"All these Hayles, to-night, bring up the past—ours."
"Yes!" said Hugh, and said no more, as if the remark had partly unlocked something and then stuck fast.
The questioner tried a smaller key. "What were you thinking," he asked, "when I joined you here to-night?"
"When you—? Oh, nothing we're thinking of now."
"At the same time, what was it?"
"Why—something rather too fanciful to put into words."
"All the same, let's have it."
"Well, for one thing, seeing and feeling this boat, with all its light and life, speeding, twinkling on and on through the night like a swarm of stars, the thought came—and I was wishing I could share it with you——"
The elder hand pressed the younger.
"The thought that since infinite space—" The thought seemed to stall, take breath, and start again—"since infinite space is lighted only by the stars, the rush and roll of this universe through space is forever and ever—in the large—a night scene—an eternal starlight. Is that absurd—to you?"
The father smiled: "Why, no. I merely—doubt it. All starlight is sunlight—near enough by."
"Yes. But between stars there is no near-by, is there?"
"That depends on who's looking, I think. We mustn't impute human eyes to God—or angels—or saints. You remember the word: 'Darkness and light are both alike to thee'?"
"Yes," pensively said Hugh, rejoicing in this converse yet wondering why it made him feel so childish to speak his best while Hayle's twins showed up in so manly a fashion when they spoke their worst. "Yes, I thought of that, too. Yet I was glad to believe there will always be plenty of starlight for those who love it——"
"Wow!" yelled Ramsey in his ear.
With a gulp he whirled and faced her where, limp with laughter, she hung and swung on the captain's chair. Its occupant quietly rose. The old nurse wrung her hands, and Ramsey, in an agony of mirth and dismay, cringed back on her. Suddenly the maiden stood at her best height and with elaborate graciousness said:
"I hope I haven't interrupted!"
The father's hand appeasingly touched the son's while playfully he said: "You have a hopeful nature, Miss Ramsey." And then, as her disconcerted eyes widened, he asked: "Where did you come from just now?"
He saw that if she spoke she must weep. Instead she jauntily waved a whole arm backward and upward to the pilot-house. Then, her self-command returning, she remarked, for Hugh in particular: "It's nice up there. They don't snub you." She twitched a shoulder at him, made eyes to his father, and once more tinkled her laugh, interiorly, as though it were a door-bell.
The captain was amused, yet he gravely began to ask: "Does your mother——?"
"Know I'm out? She doth. First time I've been out o' bed this late in all my long and checkered career."
"If she does, Miss Ramsey, will you go up to the pilot once more and tell him to land the boat at the wood-yard just this side of Bonnabel plantation?"
Her