CHAPTER SEVEN.
CONCERNING A DERELICT.
"So that was your heroine of the adventure, Wagram?" said the old Squireas they sat at breakfast the following morning.
"Yes. What did you think of her?"
"Poor girl."
"Poor girl? Why?" asked Monsignor Culham.
"Spells Calmour."
There was a laugh at this.
"He is a holy terror, Monsignor," explained Haldane. "Sort of paintsthe town red at intervals. The whole lot of them are impossible, yetthis girl seems an exception. She's been away from home a long time, Ibelieve, and, of course, that may account for it."
"Possibly," said the prelate. "I noticed her yesterday, and she seemedvery devout. Are these people Catholics?"
"Not they. I don't suppose they're anything at all," answered Haldane.
"Old Calmour was very `sky blue' that day I called there," said Wagram."He groped right past me, and I was thankful he didn't know me fromAdam. He was certainly `talking' when he couldn't batter his own gatein."
"They say the girls have to stop their ears tight when he's `fresh,'"said Haldane; "and yet Damages can do a little `talking' off her ownfrom all accounts."
"You wouldn't think it to look at her," said Wagram.
"That's just it. But I believe it's a fact, all the same."
"Well, then, what about this other one?" pursued Wagram mischievously."She may be just as deceptive, and yet you've booked her to lunch atyour place next week."
"I rather pride myself on being a student of character," said Haldane,"and I don't, somehow, think this case will prove me wrong."
"No; I don't think so either," assented Wagram.
"I formed a favourable impression of her, too--the mere glimpse I had ofher when we met," said Monsignor Culham. "She certainly is a verypretty girl, and I should think a good one. It might even be that inthe fulness of time she should prove the means of salvaging the rest ofthe family."
"Her brother Bob would take a great deal of salvaging," said Haldanedrily. "Hallo, the child's late," he added, with a glance at the clock."Said she'd be in before this."
"In! Why, I thought she might be sleeping off the effects of herefforts yesterday," said the Squire.
"Not she. She's adding to them. She's gone down with Hood to try andcapture an early trout."
"Really!" exclaimed Monsignor. "Is she generally successful, MrHaldane?"
"She's a very fair hand at throwing a fly. Really, though, Monsignor,I'm afraid you'll think me a doting sort of a driveller on that subject.The fact is, we all spoil her shockingly among us. Wagram doesn't comefar behind me in that line, and the Squire too."
"I'm not surprised," answered the prelate. "I think she is withoutexception the dearest child I have ever seen, and the proof of it is sheremains unspoiled through it all. Why, there she is."
On the lawn she was standing, just handing her trout rod to the old headkeeper, who could not refrain from turning his head with a smile ofadmiration as he walked away. Then she danced up to the window, thepink flush of health in her cheeks, the blue eyes alight with amischievous challenge.
"Well? What luck, Sunbeam?" said Haldane, who was already at the openwindow.
"Ah--ah! I wasn't to get any, was I?" she cried ostentatiously, holdingdown the lid of her creel. "Well--look."
She exhibited a brace of beautiful trout, each something over a pound,but in first-rate condition.
"Did you get them yourself?" said Wagram, who liked to tease heroccasionally.
"Mr Wagram! I shall not speak to you for the whole of to-day--no--halfof it."
"I thought possibly Hood might have captured them," he explained. "Didyou say one or both?"
"Now it will be the whole of the day."
"Well done, little one. Did they fight much?" said Haldane. "You shalltell us about it presently. Cut away now and titivate, because Wagramwas threatening to polish off all the strawberries if you weren't soonin, and I want you to have some."
"He'd better; that's all," was the answer as she danced away, knowingperfectly well that the offender designate would get through theintervening time picking out all the largest and most faultless--lookingfor her especial delectation. Whereby it is manifest that her fatherhad stated no more than bare fact in asserting that they all combined tospoil her. Equally true, it should be added, was Monsignor Culham'sdictum that they had not succeeded.
"Are my censures removed?" said Wagram as Yvonne entered. "Look at allI have been doing for you," holding up the plate of strawberries.
"I don't know. Perhaps they ought to be. I said I wouldn't speak toyou for the whole day. Well, we'll make it half the day. I'll begin atlunch-time."
"Then we'll say half the strawberries. You shall have the other half atlunch-time."
"Look at that!" she cried. "Claiming pardon by a threat! You can't dothat, can he, Monsignor?"
"Certainly not," answered the prelate, entering thoroughly into the funof the thing; "not for a moment."
"_Roma locuta--causa finita_," pronounced Wagram with mock solemnity,handing her the plate. "Of course, I bow."
"In that case I must treat you with generosity, and will talk to younow, especially as you are dying to know where and how I got my trout.I got them both, then, within fifty yards of each other; one in the holebelow Syndham Bridge, the other at the tail of the hole; one with aWickham's Fancy, the other with a small Zulu--"
"Didn't Hood play them for--?"
"Ssh-h-h! You'll get into trouble again," interrupted Yvonne. "You'rerepeating the offence, mind."
"_Peccavi_."
"I'll forgive you again on one condition: I'm just spoiling for abicycle ride. You shall take me for one this afternoon."
"Won't the whole day be enough for you?"
"Not quite. The afternoon will, though."
"Well, that'll suit me to a hair. We'll make a round, and I'll look inat Pritchett's farm; I want to see him about something. What do youthink, Haldane? Are you on?"
"Very much off, I'm afraid. I sent my machine in to Warren's to beoverhauled. He promised it for yesterday morning, but the traditions ofthe great British tradesman must be kept up. Wherefore it is not yethere. But you take the child all the same."
At first Yvonne declared she didn't want to go under the circumstances,but was overruled.
"I've got to go into Fulkston on business, Sunbeam," said her father,"so I shall be out of mischief, anyhow. I'll borrow one of the Squire'sgees, if I may."
"Why, of course," said the Squire. "You know them all, Haldane. TellThompson which you'd rather ride."
Then the conversation turned to matters ecclesiastical, also, as betweenthe two old gentlemen, reminiscent. They had been schoolfellows intheir boyhood, but the clean-shaven, clear-cut face of Monsignor Culham,and the white hair, worn rather long, gave him a much older look thanthe other; yet there was hardly a year's difference between them. Bothhad in common the same tall, straight figure, together with the samekindly geniality of expression.
"I think I shall invite myself this time next year, Grantley," said theprelate. "It is really a privilege to take part in such a solemnity aswe held yesterday. It makes one anticipate time--very much time, Ifear--when such is more the rule throughout the country than an isolatedand, of course, doubly valued privilege."
"My dear old friend, I hope you will. Only you must pardon my remindingyou that it is for no want of asking on my part that ages have elapsedsince you were here. And they have."
"Well, it certainly wasn't yesterday, and I concede being in the wrong,"rejoined Monsignor Culham. "But I have been in more than one cathedralchurch where the solemnities were nothing like so carefully andaccurately performed. It was a rare pleasure to take part in these."
"Here, Wagram, get up and return thanks," laughed Haldane. "If itweren't breakfast-time one would have said that Monsignor was proposingyour health."
"The lion's share of the kudos is
due to Father Gayle," said Wagram."He and I between us managed to knock together a fairly decent choir fora country place, which includes Haldane, a host in himself, and,incidentally, Yvonne. The rest is easy."
"`Incidentally Yvonne!'" repeated that young person with mockresentment.
"I don't know about easy," declared Monsignor Culham. "The fact remainsyou had got together an outside crowd who weren't accustomed to singingwith each other--over and above your own people."
"Yes; but we sent word to the convent asking them to practise theirchildren in what we were going to sing--and to practise them out ofdoors, too. For the rest of those who helped us we trusted to theirintuitive gumption."
"Ah, that's a good plan," said the prelate; "there's too little caregiven to that sort of thing. Singers on such an occasion are left tosort themselves. Result: discord--hitches innumerable."
"I know," said Haldane. "I was on the sanctuary once in a strangechurch. They were going to have the _Te Deum_ solemnly sung for anoccasion. I asked for a book with the square notation score. They hadno such thing in their possession, and the consequence was everyone wasdividing up the syllables at his own sweet will. It was neitherharmonious nor jubilant."
"I should think not," assented Wagram emphatically. "Now, there ishardly an outdoor function I have been present at which hasn'trepresented to my mind everything that outdoor singing ought not to be.Unaccompanied singing is too apt to sound thin, and if backed up withbrass instruments it sounds thinner still. So we dispense with themhere, and our oft-repeated and especially final injunction to all handsis: `Sing up!'"
"Well, it certainly was effective with your singers, Wagram," pronouncedMonsignor Culham, "and I shall cite it as an instance wheneveropportunity offers."
"That's good, Monsignor," returned Wagram. "We want all round to makeeverything as solemn and dignified and attractive as possible, as far asour opportunities here allow, especially to those outside; and we havereason to know that good results have followed."
"In conversions?"
"Yes. We throw open the grounds to all comers on these occasions, andin the result some who come merely to see a picturesque pageant areimpressed, and--inquire further."
"I wonder what proportion of the said `all comers' confine their senseof the picturesque to the tables in the marquee," remarked Haldane, whowas of a cynical bent.
"Well, you know the old saying, Haldane--that one of the ways to reach aman's soul is through his stomach," laughed the Squire. "Anything inthat paper, by the way?"
"N-no," answered Haldane, who had been skimming the local morning paper,while keeping one ear open for the general conversation. "Wait,though--yes, this is rather interesting--if only that it reminds me of abad quarter of an hour once owing to a similar cause. Listen to this:`The R.M.S. _Rhodesian_, which arrived at Southampton yesterday evening,reports passing a derelict in latitude 10 degrees 5 minutes north,longitude 16 degrees 36 minutes West. The hull was a dull rusty red,and apparently of about 900 or 1000 tons burthen. The vessel was partlysubmerged, the forecastle and poop being above water. About eight feetof iron foremast was standing, and rather more of mizzen-mast, with somerigging trailing from it. No name was visible, and the hulk, which hadapparently been a long time in the water, was lying dangerously in thetrack of steamers to and from the Cape.' I should think so indeed,"continued Haldane with some warmth. "It was just such a derelict thatscraped past us one black night when I was coming home in the_Manchurian_ on that very line. It was about midnight, and everybodyhad turned in, but the skipper and I were having a parting yarn on thehurricane deck. We were so close to the thing that the flare of ourlights showed it up barely ten yards from us; then it was gone. I askedthe skipper what would have happened if we'd hit it straight and square,and he said he was no good at conundrums, but would almost rather haverun full speed on against the face of a cliff."
"I suppose there was great excitement in the morning?" said the Squire.
"Not any; for the simple reason that nobody knew anything about it. Theoccurrence was logged, of course, but the skipper asked me not to blab,and I didn't. Most of the passengers were scary enough over the risksthey knew about, he said, and if you told them a lot more that theydidn't many of them would die."
"They oughtn't to leave a thing like that," said Wagram. "Why didn'tyour captain stop and blow it up, Haldane?"
"I asked him, and he said his company didn't contract for hulk-huntingon dark nights; it contracted to carry Her Majesty's mails. Probablythe skipper of the _Rhodesian_ reasoned in exactly the same way aboutthis one."
"It's as bad as an infernal machine."
"It _is_ an infernal machine," said Haldane.
The Red Derelict Page 7
