The Night Club. Jenkins Herbert George

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СКАЧАТЬ least understanding them, and, finally, everybody accepts him without comment, much as they do a Bank Holiday or an eclipse.

      Sallie and Dora between them had only a small valise, whereas Malcolm carried a sketch-book and an umbrella. He, as I, was depending upon Carruthers for all save a tooth-brush.

      There was the inevitable delay on the line, and we were over an hour late. Sallie was in a fever of excitement lest the Hilda should sail without us. Malcolm, with that supreme lack of tact so characteristic of him, explained what a ticklish business it was getting out of Sheerness Harbour under sail with the wind in its present quarter. He thought that in all probability the auxiliary motor had broken down, and that the Hilda would have to depend upon canvas to get out, in which case she must have sailed half-an-hour before.

      When we eventually drew into the station, out of the train, down the platform, through the gates, into the street, sped Malcolm, and we, like "panting time toiled after him in vain." He waved his umbrella to us to hurry, not knowing that Dora has a deplorably short wind. On he tore, and finally disappeared through the pier-gates without, as we afterwards found, paying his toll, a privilege he had generously delegated to us. When we in turn passed through the gates, it was to find Malcolm hysterically waving his umbrella, apparently at the Medway guardship. Suddenly the truth dawned upon us, the Hilda had sailed. Probably Carruthers had not received the telegram.

      Arrived at the pierhead we saw the Hildaoff the Isle of Grain, two miles distant, slowly slipping out of the Medway against the tide with the aid of her auxiliary motor. The sight was one of the most depressing that I have ever experienced. We looked at each other blankly.

      "It's the cup of Tantalus," I murmured, with classical resignation.

      "It's that damned auxiliary motor," muttered the practical Malcolm.

      "Commong faire?" enquired Dora, who is inclined occasionally to lapse into French on the strength of her figure. "Commong faire?"

      "Noo verrong," replied Malcolm in what he conceives to be the Gallic tongue.

      I made no remark, but with Sallie stood idly watching a steam-pinnace approaching the pier-head from the Medway guardship that lay moored directly opposite.

      "I know!" Sallie suddenly said, and I knew that she really did know. There are moments when I am at a loss to understand why I do not run away with Sallie and marry her in spite of herself, merely as a speculative investment. She is exquisitely ornamental, and her utility equals her æsthetic qualities; more would be impossible.

      At Sallie's exclamation Dora and Malcolm drew towards us.

      "Tell me the name of an admiral," Sallie cried, her large, grey eyes diverted from epic contemplation of the universe to a lyric mischievousness. "I want an admiral."

      "Try a lieutenant to begin with," Malcolm suggested, and was withered.

      "An admiral," said Dora. "Nelson; he was an admiral, wasn't – ?"

      "Van Tromp, Blake, Benbow, Villeneuve, Collingwood, St. Vincent, Cochrane – " glibly responded Malcolm.

      As the responses were uttered at the same time, Sallie probably heard little of what was said. Suddenly becoming very calm, she addressed herself to Malcolm.

      "I want to know the name of an English admiral of the present day. Are there any?"

      "Plenty," responded Malcolm. "Crosstrees (I dare not give the real name), First Sea Lord, May, Meux, Jellicoe, Beresford, Scott, Beatty."

      "Is Admiral Crosstrees married?" queried Sallie calmly. "Has he grown-up daughters? Is he old?"

      "Any First Sea Lord who has not grown-up daughters has evaded his responsibilities as an officer and a gentleman," I remarked.

      Suddenly Sallie took command. Motioning us back, she went to the extreme end of the pier and looked down. A moment later, the white top of a naval cap appeared above the edge, followed by a fair face and five feet six of a sub-lieutenant. Sallie addressed herself to him, and, taking advantage of his obvious confusion, said: "Will you please take us out to that yacht," pointing to the Hilda. "She has gone without us, and – well, we want to get on board."

      When the sub. had recovered from Sallie's smile and her carnation tint, he stammered his regret.

      "I'm most awfully sorry; but I'm here to take liberty men aboard. I'm, I'm, afraid I can't, otherwise I would with er – er – er – "

      "What are liberty men?" questioned Sallie, looking at him with grey-eyed gravity.

      "Men who have been ashore on leave," was the response.

      "Can you signal to that?" asked Sallie with guile, nodding at the guardship.

      "I beg pardon," replied the bewildered sub, fast breaking up beneath Sallie's gaze.

      "Does the captain know the First Sea Lord, Admiral Crosstrees?"

      "I – I don't know," he replied, "I – "

      "I am Miss Crosstrees. Will you please tell me who you are. I should like to know, because you are the first officer I have met who has been discourteous to me. I will not trouble you further," and she moved away like an outraged Mrs. Siddons.

      "I – I'm awfully sorry, Miss Crosstrees. I didn't know – of course – if you can get down. I will most certainly – " He collapsed into confused silence.

      "You will take us then?" Sallie questioned, approaching two steps nearer to him.

      "Certainly: but er – er – can you – er?"

      Sallie looked down. A perpendicular iron ladder led down to the pinnace some thirty feet below. It was not pleasant for a woman.

      "Will you go down and – and – " faltered Sallie. He was a nice youth, who understood and disappeared, I after him. Then came Sallie, easily and naturally as if accustomed to such ladders all her life. Dora followed, almost hysterical with fear, and finally came Malcolm, with his umbrella and the valise in one hand and his sketch-book between his teeth. I could see the men were impressed with his performance.

      I did not at all like the adventure. It might end very unpleasantly for some of us, and the "some," I knew, would be Malcolm and me. I was by no means reassured when I saw that the sub. was steering the pinnace directly for the guardship. Did he suspect? I racked my brains to try and recollect if the First Sea Lord were married, if he had a family, if – . It was as if from far away that I heard the sub, hailing the guardship through a megaphone.

      "Admiral Crosstrees' daughter wishes to be put aboard that yacht, sir. Am I – "

      "Certainly," came the reply, as the officer of the watch came to the side and saluted. Hands bobbed up from everywhere, and it seemed as if a dead ship had suddenly been galvanised into life. Sallie's bow and smile were much appreciated, every man taking it unto himself. That is Sallie's way. She can slay a regiment or a ship's company with a glance, whilst another woman is exhausting herself in trying to enlist the interest of a stockbroker.

      Out we rushed after the Hilda. Sallie, now that she had gained her point, became absorbed in contemplating the Isle of Grain, and watching the white wake of the pinnace. Occasionally a slight, half-sad, half-contemplative smile would flit across her features. She had forgotten everything – yachts, pinnaces, subs, and was just alone with the things that mattered, the sea, the sky, and the green fields.

      Dora СКАЧАТЬ