Harris-Ingram Experiment

by Charles E. Bolton

  CHAPTER V

  DISCOMFITURES AT SEA

  The green and red lights on the starboard and port sides and the whitelight on the foremast now burned brightly. The boatswain's shrill whistlefurled the sails snugly to every spar, leaving the sailors little time orspirit for their usual song, as barometer-like they too sensed theapproaching storm. The ship's watch forward was increased as the windgrew strong, and the weather ahead had become thick and hazy.

  The captain quickly left the table when the steward placed in his handa bit of writing from the first officer, which read, "The barometer isfalling rapidly." Captain Morgan and an officer paced the bridge witheyes alert. Heavy clouds of smoke from the triple stacks revealed thata hundred glowing furnaces were being fed with fuel, assistant engineerswere busily inspecting, and oilers were active in lubricating theponderous engines that every emergency might be promptly met.

  Ports were closed and every precaution taken. The anxiety of officers andsailors and the increased agitation of the sea was soon noticed by theship's gay company. Before ten o'clock most of the passengers were gladof the good-night excuse for retiring. The smoking room, however, wascrowded with devotees to the weed. Old-timers were busy with cards, orforming pools on the first day's run from Sandy Hook, or speculating asto the time of arrival at Queenstown.

  The atmosphere of the room was as thick as the weather outside. It isno wonder that a club man of New York, making his first trip to Europe,inquired of his Philadelphia friend, "Why do Americans smoke socontinually?"

  He answered, "It is easier to tell why the English drink tea and whyAmericans drink coffee. But to answer your question, I suppose themixture of races quickens the flow of blood and produces the intenseactivities we witness. Besides, the enlarged opportunities offered ina new and growing country present attractive prizes in the commercial,political, social, and religious world. To attain these the Anglo-Saxonblood rushes through arteries and veins like the heated blood in athoroughbred horse on the last quarter. After these homestretch effortsAmericans feel the need often of stimulants, or of a soporific, and thisthey try to find in a cigar."

  "Your views are wrong, I think. One would naturally infer that the use oftobacco shortens life. Let me relate to you an incident.

  "I was once in Sandusky, Ohio, and spent an evening at a lecture given byTrask, the great anti-tobacconist. In his discourse he had reached theclimax of his argument, proving as he thought that tobacco shortenedlife, when a well dressed man in the audience rose and said, 'Mr. Trask,will you pardon me if I say a few words?'

  "'Oh, yes' said the lecturer, 'give us the facts only.'

  "'Well, Mr. Trask, there is living to-day in Castalia, southwest of here,a man nearly a hundred years old and he has been a constant user oftobacco since early childhood.'

  "For a moment Mr. Trask stood nonplussed. To gain time for thoughthe fell back upon the Socratic method, and began asking questions.'Stranger, won't you stand up again so that the audience can see you?Thank you! Evidently you are an intelligent citizen and reliable witness.Did you say you knew the man?'

  "'O yes, I have known him for over fifty years.'

  "'Did you ever know of his favoring schools or churches by gifts orotherwise?'

  "'No,' said the stranger.

  "'There,' said Trask to the audience, 'this man's testimony onlystrengthens what I have been attempting to prove here this evening,that tobacco shortens life. This Castalia centenarian is dead to all thedemands of society and humanity, and his corpse should have been buriedhalf a century ago.' So the laugh was on the voluntary witness."

  "Hold on, my friend, your Castalia centenarian proves just what I said atthe outset, that the use of tobacco prolongs life, but I am half inclinedmyself to feel that the less tobacco active Americans use, the better."Then throwing his cigar away, he said good-night and left the smokingroom.

  Others stacked their cards, smoked cigarettes, and then sought theirstaterooms, and finally the ship's bell rang out the last patron andannounced the midnight hour; the steward was left alone. He had beenunusually busy all the evening furnishing ale, porter, and beer, a fewonly taking wine. The steward was glad to complete his report of salesfor the first day out, and turn off the lights and seek his berth forthe night.

  The "Majestic" shot past Cape Cod and was plowing her way towards thebanks of Newfoundland. The strong winds were westerly and fast increasingto a moderate gale. The north star was hidden and now failed to confirmthe accuracy of the ship's compasses.

  The first and fourth officers were pacing the bridge. The latter wasglad that the engines were working at full speed, as every stroke ofthe pistons carried him nearer his pretty cottage in the suburbs ofLiverpool. Captain Morgan had dropped asleep on the lounge in his cozyroom just back of the wheel. Most of the passengers and crew off dutyslept soundly, though some were dreaming of wife and children in far awayhomes, and others of palaces, parks, and castles in foreign countries.

  It was difficult for Mrs. Harris to get much rest as the waves dashingagainst the ship often awakened her, and her thoughts would race with theCincinnati Express which was swiftly bearing her husband and Gertrudeback to Harrisville and perhaps to trouble and poverty. While Mrs. Harrisknew that her husband was wealthy, she was constantly troubled with fearslest she and her family should sometime come to want. Her own father hadacquired a fortune in Ireland, but changes in the British tariff laws hadrendered him penniless, and poverty had driven her mother with sevenother children to America.

  A rich uncle in Boston enabled her to get a fair education, and the earlyyears of her married life had been full of earnest effort, of economy andheroic struggle, that her husband and family might gain a footing in theworld. The comforts of her early childhood in Ireland had given her akeen relish for luxury. The pain inflicted by poverty that followed wasseverely felt, and now, the pleasures of wealth again were all the moreenjoyed.

  Mrs. Harris was not a church member, but woman-like she found her lipssaying, "God bless the colonel and my precious children." Then puttingher hand over upon Lucille, and satisfied that she was there by her sideand asleep, she too became drowsy and finally unconscious. Alfonso andLeo occupied the adjoining stateroom, but both were in dreamland;Alfonso in the art galleries of Holland and Leo in sunny Italy.

  Before morning the storm center was moving rapidly down the St. LawrenceValley, and off the east coast of Maine. Long lines of white-capped waveswere dashing after each other like swift platoons in a cavalry charge.The "Majestic," conscious of an enemy on her flank, sought earnestly tooutstrip the winds of AEolus. When Captain Morgan reached the bridge, thesea and sky were most threatening. The first officer said, "Captain,I have never seen the mercury go down so rapidly. We are in for a nastytime of it, I fear."

  Early the sailors were scrubbing the ship while the spray helped to washthe decks, and they tightened the fastenings of the life-boats. Thefiremen too were busy dropping cinders astern. Fires in the cook'sgalley were lighted, and the steerage passengers were aroused forbreakfast, but few responded.

  Mrs. Harris often tried to dress, but every time she fell back into herberth, saying, "Stewardess, I shall surely die. Isn't the ship goingdown?"

  "No, no, madam," the stewardess replied, "I will return with beef tea,and you will soon feel better."

  Lucille was helped to put on a dark wrapper; and after repeated effortsat a hasty toilet, she took the stewardess's arm and reached an easychair in the library. Alfonso and Leo, who were both members of a yachtclub in New York, came to the library from a short walk on the deck. Itrequired much urging with Lucille before she would attempt an entranceinto the dining-room. Several men and a few ladies were present.

  "Good morning, Miss Harris, how brave you are," were words spoken soencouragingly by Captain Morgan that Lucille's face brightened and sheresponded as best she could.

  "Thank you, captain, I believe I should much prefer to face a storm ofbullets on the land than a storm at sea; you courageous sailors reallydeserv
e all the gold medals."

  Leo, who was fond of the ocean, said to Alfonso, "Why can't we all besailors? What say you to this? Let us test who of our party shall losethe fewest meals from New York to Queenstown. You and your mother orLucille and I?"

  "Agreed," responded Alfonso, thinking it would help to keep the ladies ingood spirits.

  "But what shall count for a meal?" inquired Alfonso.

  "Not less than ten minutes at the table, and at dinner, soup at least."Lucille thought Leo's idea a capital one. It was agreed that the contestshould commence with the next lunch, and that Alfonso and Leo should actas captains for the two sides.

  By this time Lucille had eaten a little toast and had sipped part of herchocolate. A tenderloin steak and sweet omelet with French fried potatoeswere being served, when suddenly the color left her face. Another lurchof the steamer sent a glass of ice water up her loose sleeve, and,utterly discomfited, she begged to be excused and rushed from the table.

  "Oh dear, mother, how terribly I feel; let me lie down. Oh dear! I wishI were home with father and Gertrude."

  "If the colonel were only here to help," murmured Mrs. Harris."Stewardess, where are you? Why don't you hurry when I ring? Go for thedoctor at once." It was now blowing a gale and the steamer was rollingbadly.

  It was a long half-hour before the doctor entered the stateroom of Mrs.Harris. Dr. Argyle was perfect in physical development and a model ofgentlemanly qualities. His education had been received in London andVienna, and he had joined the service of the "Majestic" that he mightenlarge his experiences as practitioner and man of the world. He hadcorrectly divined that here he was sure to touch intimately the restlessand wandering aristocracy of the globe.

  While Dr. Argyle was ostensibly the ship's doctor, he was keenly alertfor an opportunity that would help him on to fame and fortune. Of thetwo he preferred the latter, as he believed that humanity is just aslazy as it dares to be. Therefore stateroom No. ---- was entered bothprofessionally and inquisitively. The doctor was half glad that theHarrises were ill, as he had seen the family at Captain Morgan's tableand desired to meet them. Captain Morgan had incidentally mentioned tothe doctor the great wealth of the Harris family, and this also hadwhetted his curiosity. Before him lay mother and daughter, helpless, bothin utter misery and the picture of despair.

  "Beg pardon, ladies," said the doctor as he entered, "you sent for meI believe?"

  "Yes, yes," replied Mrs. Harris, "we thought you had forgotten us, as thehalf-hour's delay seemed a full week. My daughter, Lucille, and I aresuffering terribly. How awful the storm! Last night, doctor, I thoughtI should die before morning, and now I greatly fear that the ship willgo down."

  "Do not fear, ladies," the doctor replied, "the wind is only brisk; mostpeople suffer a little on the ocean, especially on the first voyage."

  "What is the cause of this terrible seasickness, doctor, and what can youdo for us?"

  "Frankly, Mrs. Harris, no two physicians agree as to the cause. Usuallypeople suffer most from seasickness who come aboard weary from over-workor nervous exhaustion. Most people waste vital forces by too much talkingor by over-exertion. Americans, especially, overcheck their deposits ofvitality, and as bankrupts they struggle to transact daily duties. Wisemanagement of nerve forces would enable them to accomplish more and enjoylife better."

  "I am a bankrupt then," said Mrs. Harris, "but how about my daughterLucille?"

  "Your child, I fear, is the daughter of bankrupts and doubtless inheritstheir qualities."

  "But, doctor, can't you do something now for us?"

  "Oh yes, madam, but first let me feel your pulse, please."

  "Ninety-eight," he said to himself, but he added to Mrs. Harris, "youneed the very rest this voyage affords and you must not worry the leastabout the storm or affairs at home. Our vessel is built of steel, andCaptain Morgan always outrides the storms. Ladies, I want you to takethis preparation of my own. It is a special remedy for seasickness, theresult of the study and experience of the medical force of the White StarLine."

  The faces of mother and daughter brightened. They had faith. This wasnoticed by Dr. Argyle. Faith was the restorative principle upon which theyoung doctor depended, and without it his medicine was worthless. TheWhite Star panacea prescribed was harmless, as his powders merelyinclined the patient to sleep and recovery followed, so faith or natureworked the cure. Soon after the door closed behind the doctor, Lucillewas asleep, and Mrs. Harris passed into dreamland.

  The winds veered into the southwest, and, reinforced, were controlled bya violent hurricane that had rushed up the Atlantic coast from the WestIndies. The novice aboard was elated, for he thought that the fiercer thewind blew behind the vessel, the faster the steamer would be drivenforward. How little some of us really know! The cyclone at sea is arotary storm, or hurricane, of extended circuit. Black clouds drive downupon the sea and ship with a tiger's fierceness as if to crush all lifein their pathway.

  Officers and crew, in waterproof garments, become as restless as bunchedcattle in a prairie blizzard. All eyes now roam from prow to stern, fromdeck to top mast. The lightning's blue flame plays with the steel masts,and overhead thunders drown the noise of engines and propellers. Thickblack smoke and red-hot cinders shoot forth from the three black-throatedsmoke-stacks.

  The huge steamer, no longer moving with the ease of the leviathan, seemsa tiny craft and almost helpless in the chopped seas that give to theship a complex motion so difficult, even for old sailors, to anticipate.Tidal wave follows tidal wave in rapid succession. Both trough and crestare whipped into whitecaps like tents afield, till sea and storm seemleagued to deluge the world again.

  Captain Morgan, lashed to the bridge, has full confidence in himself, hisdoubled watch ahead, his compasses, and the throbbing engines below.Dangers have now aroused the man and his courage grows apace. Momentssupreme come to every captain at sea, the same as to captains who wagewars on the land.

  The decks are drenched, great waves pound the forward deck and life-boatsare broken from their moorings. Battened hatches imprison below aregiment of souls, some suffering the torments of stomachs in openrebellion, others of heads swollen, while others lose entire controlof an army of nerves that center near and drive mad the brain.

  To the uninitiated, words are powerless to reveal the torments of theimprisoned in a modern steel inquisition, rocking and pitching at themercy of mighty torrents in a mid-ocean cyclone. Mephistopheles, seekingseverest punishment for the damned, displayed tenderness in not adoptingthe super-heated and sooted pits where stokers in storms at sea areforced to labor and suffer.

  All that terrible second day and night at sea, the Harrises and otherstossed back and forth in their unstable berths, some suffering withchills and others with burning heat. Some, Mrs. Harris and daughter amongthem, lay for hours more dead than alive, their wills and muscles utterlypowerless to reach needed and much coveted blankets.

  The dining saloon was deserted except by a few old sea-travelers. Beforedinner, Leo ventured above and for a moment put his head outside. Thegale blowing a hundred miles an hour hit him with the force of a club.When he went below to see Alfonso, his face was pale, and his voicetrembled as he said, "Harris, before morning we shall all sink to thebottom of the Atlantic with the 'Majestic' for our tomb." Half undressed,Leo dropped again into his berth where he spent a miserable night.