*BOOK ONE*
*THE CLAY TAKES SHAPE*
*I.*
The six-foot Englishman, with the military carriage and the rough tweedcap, continued to stare at the back of the girl in the brown tailorsuit, leaning over the ship’s rail. There was something in the attitudethat recalled a child swinging on the railing of a fort’s drawbridge. Hecould not have told exactly why. Perhaps it was because he so oftenrecalled that picture; perhaps it was because he had always held fast toa vague hope that some day he might meet that child again.
The girl in the brown tailor suit remained motionless, her face turnedtoward the Liberty that was melting into an indistinct blur. The youngEnglishman came a little nearer. She had not been there when he hadcome aboard. Of that he was sure. Well, he had probably missed half ofhis fellow passengers while he was changing to his seafaring clothes,and there had been a couple of letters to be written to be carried backby the pilot. All that had taken time.
The girl turned. The last faint trace of Liberty had faded; she mightjust as well admit that, and give her attention to the novelties ofship-board life. She looked curiously down the long white deck.Passengers were appearing every moment, clad in ulsters and soft hats;the deck steward was hurrying to and fro adjusting steamer chairs andwraps. The voyage had undoubtedly begun.
Suddenly the line of her vision was interrupted by a tall man in a roughtweed cap. And then she noticed that he had snatched it from his headand was coming toward her with both hands outstretched.
"Isn’t it—Cary?" he asked, eagerly.
The girl looked into his eyes. Somewhere in their grave depths a smilewas hidden.
"Why, it’s Johnny," she cried, delightedly.
"To be sure it’s Johnny! And what do _you_ mean by sailing under anEnglish flag?"
She laughed again, showing her perfect teeth.
"Isn’t it absurd? But Daddy dragged me into it."
"Which? The Cunarder or the trip?"
"Both. Where in the world have you been all this time, and oh! how’sRob? I declare I’ve so many questions to ask you I don’t know where tobegin."
Stewart smiled.
"You’re the same old Cary," he said, "Only a bit taller. Let me findyour chair for you. You’re not crossing alone?"
"Do you think I’d leave my father?"
"Of course not. Where is he?"
"There, forgive me. I was rude. I’m afraid I _am_ as bad as ever."Cary sighed.
"I never said that—"
"Well, Papa’s writing a note to be carried back on the pilot. If hedoes not come up soon, I’ll have to hunt him up. I’m his shadow. Totell you a secret; I’m chaperoning him on this trip!"
"Indeed!" Stewart’s eyes were smiling.
"To be sure. Now, about yourself—"
"Your eyes say, ’What have you been doing in America that you failed tolook me up?" said Stewart.
"That is just what I was thinking, and when we were going to hunt foryou, too, when we landed! Come!"
"There isn’t much to tell," said Stewart, meeting her eyes squarely."There have been a good many years—uneventful ones—of a pretty steady’grind’, and rather rigid military training at Woolwich—"
She looked up quickly.
"You are an officer? An engineer?"
He laughed, pleased.
"You know more about our English military schools than the majority ofAmerican girls."
"You forget I am an Army woman. Go on!"
"And so I’m a member—a young one—of the Royal Engineers. I was orderedto India, where I served out my sub-lieutenancy. I was in a bit of arow there, and after, I took the jungle fever and got sick leave.They’ve sent me over the Atlantic for a sea trip. I’m to be transferredlater. I was only in New York two days. That’s why I couldn’t look youup. You see, I didn’t know if you were still at the old fort down South,or in Texas or Montana or—any other of your big states." He was rapidlygetting off of the subject of "self." "Now, where have you been and whydidn’t you keep on writing?"
"I did write, but you wouldn’t answer—sent the letters to your home inScotland."
"Ah! We were traveling; the old place has been rented almost steadilyfor years. They must have miscarried in the forwarding. Father haspreferred London political life, and mother wanted to be near us boyswhen at school and afterwards when we became cadets—"
"How is your mother?"
"Well; thanks. She’ll be glad to see you again."
Cary looked seaward.
"I shall never forget," she said, "how she nursed me." She was silent amoment. "How’s Rob?" she asked, presently.
"I’m inclined to think he’s less changed than any one of the three ofus. He’s fiery, fierce, affectionate, as ever, with a wonderful talentfor getting into scrapes and scrambling out of them again."
"What is he—a sailor?"
"He wanted to go in the navy—bad. Poor Rob. But my uncle had set hisheart on the army for him. You know he was a great fighter in hisday—retired on a wound that would have killed most men. He wanted himto go to Sandhurst, but Rob kicked on that, and they compromised onWoolwich."
"I didn’t know Rob would ever have brains enough for the Engineers."Cary laughed and caught wildly at her hat, which the wind was trying totear from her head.
"Rob’s clever enough—cleverer than most men, if he’d only study. Heleaves Woolwich in a couple of months now—graduated. How he has everstayed there as long as he has is a marvel. Such doings!" Stewartshook his head even as he smiled.
"I believe," he said, after a pause, "It’s for his father’s sake and mymother’s that he has drawn the line where he has! There isn’t anofficer or an instructor who don’t like him, though. He’s as straightas a string where honor is concerned, and as brave—Well! You know howbrave he could be as a child."
Stewart went on.
"As for the cadets—they swear by him—every last boy of them! Rob willbe wild when he hears you are in England, and will probably take ’Frenchleave’!" Stewart laughed again. "There! That’s the family history.Now, what about yourself?"
The girl ran her hand thoughtfully along the railing.
"Papa was stationed at the Fort for three years after you left us.Since then we’ve been moving from pillar to post—in regular Armyfashion. You know how it is?" She raised her eyes to Stewart andStewart nodded. "He was ordered to Florida and then to Arkansas and thento Alaska—" she laughed. "He sent me to boarding school for a year but Icouldn’t stand not seeing him, and he was even worse about me. Afterthat he taught me himself—dear, old Daddy—he taught me everything fromcalculus to colt riding. It’s been a wild kind of a life, but I’vemissed the old Fort and the sea. None of the other places was ever muchlike home—" Cary raised her eyes from the railing and looked soberlytoward the receding shore.
Stewart watched her; realizing that while she had not grown pretty shewas possessed of an indefinable magnetism.
Cary went on.
"Then Daddy got notions about me—about my lack of advantages, socialand—otherwise," Cary was laughing again. "He was retired last month andnow he’s carrying me off to Europe, to be polished. Am I such a roughspecimen?" she asked Stewart, suddenly.
He shook his head so gravely in denial that she smiled.
"There! Of course, I was only fooling! And so I’m going over to yourgreat, beautiful, strange Old World to be ’finished’—as if anyone couldever be ’finished’ as long as they live! I’m to see all the celebratedOld Masters and to visit all the old historic places and see the oldruins—" she broke off suddenly, "I think by the time I’ve finished, I’llbe very tired, don’t you?"
"And then?" asked Stewart.
"Why, then Daddy and I will return to America and have a little homesomewhere—I hope near the Fort where I lived as a child; close by thesea and the capes and the beach."
The
y were silent a moment. Behind them was the merry hum of voices andthe rapid movement of feet hurrying to and fro, but for that moment theywere as much alone as though they were in the shadow of the old fortwall.
"My home," said Stewart, looking out over the sea into nothingness. "Myhome in eastern Scotland is like that. Some day I hope you will see it.If you ever grow very homesick for America let me know, and I’ll try toarrange to run up there for a day with you and mother. The long beachwill remind you of home."
"Thank you," said the girl, gently.
There was a long quiet between them, and then the young officer’s facechanged suddenly and he broke into an infectious laugh.
"Oh, the guns—_do_ you remember the guns, and the pinafores and thesunbonnets? Weren’t you ever caught?"
The tall girl joined in with his laugh and the two—his deep and herslow—mingled and drifted back to the passers-by who smiledsympathetically at the sound. Cary shook her head.
"No—that is, not until long afterwards. It seems that the Departmentissued orders that the big show guns should be recast, and when theywere taken away and broken up—they were found to be storehouses for asmall girl’s wardrobe! Lieutenant Burden happened to be on the spot andthe story he tells—" she broke off, still laughing.
"Was there anything left of the things?" asked the Briton, amused.
"Yes, indeed—some were pretty well preserved! And how poor old MammyAmy would worry over the thief who dared to steal her ’chile’s clothes!’It’s all too funny!"
"And Mam’ Amy?"
"Dead. She followed us out to Alaska, but she died. I suppose it musthave been the climate."
Stewart’s face grew a little grave.
"Lieutenant Burden—wasn’t he the officer we stole the boat from?"
The girl nodded, smiling.
"And that row! Wasn’t that a row we had that day," he said. "Do youremember the terrible swim Rob took and how he saved us?"
"Yes. And how you comforted me. I went to sleep—didn’t I?"
"Yes; and how ill you were afterwards! Do you know I’ve never forgivenmyself for all that. I was thirteen, and the oldest, and should havehad more horse sense."
"What children we were!" Cary sighed.
"Are you wishing the time back?"
"I hardly know—" she hesitated, "No, I suppose not."
Then:
"They told me that you saved me in that illness."
"Did they?"
"Do you believe in confessions?" he asked, with an odd smile.
Cary laughed.
"That depends. Well—what have you been doing?"
"Do you know I kissed you that day when you fell asleep in the boat—whenwe were facing death together—and again when I was fighting death foryou that long night?"
"You wretch! Well, it didn’t count much then," Cary’s eyes weretwinkling, "You were thirteen and I was only seven. Rob! Imagine Robever kissing me!"
Stewart laughed a little nervously.
"Look out, Rob may yet!"
"Preposterous! Don’t you remember when you said you lived in Aberdeenand Rob in Argyll, and I innocently asked whether they were not neartogether? How indignant Rob was! And then I crossly retorted that theyboth began with ’a’, anyway, and—" she paused for breath, and Stewartlaughingly took up the story and finished it.
"And how Rob scornfully answered that so did ’cat’ and ’crow’! He’snever deigned to tell me which applied to which!"
"That was Rob all over!"
Late that night the quartermaster at his lonely wheel, watched a tallman pacing the decks.
After awhile the figure paused at the ship’s railing and leaned againstit heavily, looking out over the moonlit sea. The deep throbbing of themighty engines came up to him and beat and beat against his senses.
"Twice," said the Briton, slowly, speaking to the stillness of the starsand the restlessness of the ocean, "Twice, as a boy, I kissed her, whenwe fought death together. Some day, in an hour of danger, I shall kissher again."
The Potter and the Clay: A Romance of Today Page 3
