The Lion and the Mouse; a Story of an American Life

by Charles Klein and Arthur Hornblow

  CHAPTER V.

  Rolling, tumbling, splashing, foaming water as far as the eye couldreach in every direction. A desolate waste, full of life, movement andcolour, extending to the bleak horizon and like a vast ploughed fieldcut up into long and high liquid ridges, all scurrying in one directionin serried ranks and with incredible speed as if pursued by a fearfuland unseen enemy. Serenely yet boisterously, gracefully yetresistlessly, the endless waves passed on--some small, othersmonstrous, with fleecy white combs rushing down their green sides liketoy Niagaras and with a seething, boiling sound as when flame toucheswater. They went by in a stately, never ending procession, goingnowhere, coming from nowhere, but full of dignity and importance, theirbreasts heaving with suppressed rage because there was nothing in theirpath that they might destroy. The dancing, leaping water reflectedevery shade and tint--now a rich green, then a deep blue and again adirty gray as the sun hid for a moment behind a cloud, and as a gust ofwind caught the top of the combers decapitating them at one mad rush,the spray was dashed high in the air, flashing out all the prismaticcolours. Here and yonder, the white caps rose, disappeared and cameagain, and the waves grew and then diminished in size. Then othersrose, towering, became larger, majestic, terrible; the milk-like combrose proudly, soared a brief moment, then fell ignominiously, and thewave diminished passed on humiliated. Over head, a few scattered cirrusclouds flitted lazily across the blue dome of heaven, while a dozenMother Carey chickens screamed hoarsely as they circled in the air. Thestrong and steady western breeze bore on its powerful pinions the sweetand eternal music of the wind and sea.

  Shirley stood at the rail under the bridge of the ocean greyhound thatwas carrying her back to America with all the speed of which her mightyengines were capable. All day and all night, half naked stokers, sogrimed with oil and coal dust as to lose the slightest semblance tohuman beings, feverishly shovelled coal, throwing it rapidly and evenlyover roaring furnaces kept at a fierce white heat. The vast boilers,shaken by the titanic forces generating in their cavern-like depths,sent streams of scalding, hissing steam through a thousand valves,cylinders and pistons, turning wheels and cranks as it distributed thetremendous power which was driving the steel monster through the seasat the prodigious speed of four hundred miles in the twenty-four hours.Like a pulsating heart in some living thing, the mammoth enginesthrobbed and panted, and the great vessel groaned and creaked as sherose and fell to the heavy swell, and again lurched forward inobedience to each fresh propulsion from her fast spinning screws. Outon deck, volumes of dense black smoke were pouring from four giganticsmoke stacks and spread out in the sky like some endless cinder pathleading back over the course the ship had taken.

  They were four days out from port. Two days more and they would sightSandy Hook, and Shirley would know the worst. She had caught the NorthGerman Lloyd boat at Cherbourg two days after receiving the cablegramfrom New York. Mrs. Blake had insisted on coming along in spite of herniece's protests. Shirley argued that she had crossed alone whencoming; she could go back the same way. Besides, was not Mr. Ryderreturning home on the same ship? He would be company and protectionboth. But Mrs. Blake was bent on making the voyage. She had not seenher sister for many years and, moreover, this sudden return to Americahad upset her own plans. She was a poor sailor, yet she loved the oceanand this was a good excuse for a long trip. Shirley was too exhaustedwith worry to offer further resistance and by great good luck the twowomen had been able to secure at the last moment a cabin to themselvesamidships. Jefferson, less fortunate, was compelled, to his disgust, toshare a stateroom with another passenger, a fat German brewer who wasreturning to Cincinnati, and who snored so loud at night that even thethumping of the engines was completely drowned by his eccentric nasalsounds.

  The alarming summons home and the terrible shock she had experiencedthe following morning when Jefferson showed her the newspaper articlewith its astounding and heart rending news about her father had almostprostrated Shirley. The blow was all the greater for being so entirelyunlooked for. That the story was true she could not doubt. Her motherwould not have cabled except under the gravest circumstances. Whatalarmed Shirley still more was that she had no direct news of herfather. For a moment her heart stood still--suppose the shock of thisshameful accusation had killed him? Her blood froze in her veins, sheclenched her fists and dug her nails into her flesh as she thought ofthe dread possibility that she had looked upon him in life for the lasttime. She remembered his last kind words when he came to the steamer tosee her off, and his kiss when he said good-bye and she had noticed atear of which he appeared to be ashamed. The hot tears welled up in herown eyes and coursed unhindered down her cheeks.

  What could these preposterous and abominable charges mean? What wasthis lie they had invented to ruin her father? That he had enemies shewell knew. What strong man had not? Indeed, his proverbial honesty hadmade him feared by all evil-doers and on one occasion they had gone sofar as to threaten his life. This new attack was more deadly thanall--to sap and destroy his character, to deliberately fabricate liesand calumnies which had no foundation whatever. Of course, theaccusation was absurd, the Senate would refuse to convict him, theentire press would espouse the cause of so worthy a public servant.Certainly, everything would be done to clear his character. But whatwas being done? She could do nothing but wait and wait. The suspenseand anxiety were awful.

  Suddenly she heard a familiar step behind her, and Jefferson joined herat the rail. The wind was due West and blowing half a gale, so wherethey were standing--one of the most exposed parts of the ship--it wasdifficult to keep one's feet, to say nothing of hearing anyone speak.There was a heavy sea running, and each approaching wave looked bigenough to engulf the vessel, but as the mass of moving water reachedthe bow, the ship rose on it, light and graceful as a bird, shook offthe flying spray as a cat shakes her fur after an unwelcome bath, andagain drove forward as steady and with as little perceptible motion asa railway train. Shirley was a fairly good sailor and this kind ofweather did not bother her in the least, but when it got very rough shecould not bear the rolling and pitching and then all she was good forwas to lie still in her steamer chair with her eyes closed until thewater was calmer and the pitching ceased.

  "It's pretty windy here, Shirley," shouted Jefferson, steadying himselfagainst a stanchion. "Don't you want to walk a little?"

  He had begun to call her by her first name quite naturally, as if itwere a matter of course. Indeed their relations had come to be morelike those of brother and sister than anything else. Shirley was toomuch troubled over the news from home to have a mind for other things,and in her distress she had turned to Jefferson for advice and help asshe would have looked to an elder brother. He had felt this impulse toconfide in him and consult his opinion and it had pleased him more thanhe dared betray. He had shown her all the sympathy of which his warm,generous nature was capable, yet secretly he did not regret that eventshad necessitated this sudden return home together on the same ship. Hewas sorry for Judge Rossmore, of course, and there was nothing he wouldnot do on his return to secure a withdrawal of the charges. That hisfather would use his influence he had no doubt. But meantime he wasselfish enough to be glad for the opportunity it gave him to be a wholeweek alone with Shirley. No matter how much one may be with people incity or country or even when stopping at the same hotel or house, thereis no place in the world where two persons, especially when they are ofthe opposite sex, can become so intimate as on shipboard. The reason isobvious. The days are long and monotonous. There is nowhere to go,nothing to see but the ocean, nothing to do but read, talk orpromenade. Seclusion in one's stuffy cabin is out of the question, thepublic sitting rooms are noisy and impossible, only a steamer chair ondeck is comfortable and once there snugly wrapped up in a rug it issurprising how quickly another chair makes its appearance alongside andhow welcome one is apt to make the intruder.

  Thus events combined with the weather conspired to bring Shirley andJefferson more closely together. The sea had been roug
h ever since theysailed, keeping Mrs. Blake confined to her stateroom almostcontinuously. They were, therefore, constantly in one another'scompany, and slowly, unconsciously, there was taking root in theirhearts the germ of the only real and lasting love--the love born ofsomething higher than mere physical attraction, the nobler, moreenduring affection that is born of mutual sympathy, association andcompanionship.

  "Isn't it beautiful?" exclaimed Shirley ecstatically. "Look at thosegreat waves out there! See how majestically they soar and howgracefully they fall!"

  "Glorious!" assented Jefferson sharing her enthusiasm. "There's nothingto compare with it. It's Nature's grandest spectacle. The ocean is theonly place on earth that man has not defiled and spoiled. Those wavesare the same now as they were on the day of creation."

  "Not the day of creation. You mean during the aeons of time creationwas evolving," corrected Shirley.

  "I meant that of course," assented Jefferson. "When one says 'day' thatis only a form of speech."

  "Why not be accurate?" persisted Shirley. "It was the use of thatlittle word 'day' which has given the theologians so many sleeplessnights."

  There was a roguish twinkle in her eye. She well knew that he thoughtas she did on metaphysical questions, but she could not resist teasinghim.

  Like Jefferson, she was not a member of any church, although her naturewas deeply religious. Hers was the religion the soul inculcates, notthat which is learned by rote in the temple. She was a Christianbecause she thought Christ the greatest figure in world history, andalso because her own conduct of life was modelled upon Christianprinciples and virtues. She was religious for religion's sake and notfor public ostentation. The mystery of life awed her and while herintelligence could not accept all the doctrines of dogmatic religionshe did not go so far as Jefferson, who was a frank agnostic. She wouldnot admit that we do not know. The longings and aspirations of her ownsoul convinced her of the existence of a Supreme Being, First Cause,Divine Intelligence--call it what you will--which had brought out ofchaos the wonderful order of the universe. The human mind was, indeed,helpless to conceive such a First Cause in any form and lay prostratebefore the Unknown, yet she herself was an enthusiastic delver intoscientific hypothesis and the teachings of Darwin, Spencer, Haeckel hadsatisfied her intellect if they had failed to content her soul. Thetheory of evolution as applied to life on her own little planetappealed strongly to her because it accounted plausibly for thepresence of man on earth. The process through which we had passed couldbe understood by every intelligence. The blazing satellite, violentlydetached from the parent sun starting on its circumscribed orbit--thatwas the first stage, the gradual subsidence of the flames and thecooling of the crust--the second stage: the gases mingling and formingwater which covered the earth--the third stage; the retreating of thewaters and the appearance of the land--the fourth stage; the appearanceof vegetation and animal life--the fifth stage; then, after a longinterval and through constant evolution and change the appearance ofman, which was the sixth stage. What stages still to come, who knows?This simple account given by science was, after all, practicallyidentical with the biblical legend!

  It was when Shirley was face to face with Nature in her wildest andmost primitive aspects that this deep rooted religious feeling movedher most strongly. At these times she felt herself another being,exalted, sublimated, lifted from this little world with its pettyaffairs and vanities up to dizzy heights. She had felt the samesensation when for the first time she had viewed the glories of thesnow clad Matterhorn, she had felt it when on a summer's night at seashe had sat on deck and watched with fascinated awe the resplendentradiance of the countless stars, she felt it now as she looked at thefoaming, tumbling waves.

  "It is so beautiful," she murmured as she turned to walk. The ship wasrolling a little and she took Jefferson's arm to steady herself.Shirley was an athletic girl and had all the ease and grace of carriagethat comes of much tennis and golf playing. Barely twenty-four yearsold, she was still in the first flush of youth and health, and therewas nothing she loved so much as exercise and fresh air. After a fewturns on deck, there was a ruddy glow in her cheeks that was good tosee and many an admiring glance was cast at the young couple as theystrode briskly up and down past the double rows of elongated steamerchairs.

  They had the deck pretty much to themselves. It was only four o'clock,too early for the appetite-stimulating walk before dinner, and theirfellow passengers were basking in the sunshine, stretched out on theirchairs in two even rows like so many mummies on exhibition. Some werereading, some were dozing. Two or three were under the weather,completely prostrated, their bilious complexion of a deathly greenishhue. At each new roll of the ship, they closed their eyes as ifresigned to the worst that might happen and their immediate neighboursfurtively eyed each of their movements as if apprehensive of what anymoment might bring forth. A few couples were flirting to their heart'scontent under the friendly cover of the life-boats which, as on most ofthe transatlantic liners, were more useful in saving reputations thanin saving life. The deck steward was passing round tea and biscuits,much to the disgust of the ill ones, but to the keen satisfaction ofthe stronger stomached passengers who on shipboard never seem to beable to get enough to eat and drink. On the bridge, the second officer,a tall, handsome man with the points of his moustache trained upwards ala Kaiser Wilhelm, was striding back and forth, every now and thensweeping the horizon with his glass and relieving the monotony of hisduties by ogling the better looking women passengers.

  "Hello, Shirley!" called out a voice from a heap of rugs as Shirley andJefferson passed the rows of chairs.

  They stopped short and discovered Mrs. Blake ensconced in a cozycorner, sheltered from the wind.

  "Why, aunt Milly," exclaimed Shirley surprised. "I thought you weredownstairs. I didn't think you could stand this sea."

  "It is a little rougher than I care to have it," responded Mrs. Blakewith a wry grimace and putting her hand to her breast as if to appeasedisturbing qualms. "It was so stuffy in the cabin I could not bear it.It's more pleasant here but it's getting a little cool and I think I'llgo below. Where have you children been all afternoon?"

  Jefferson volunteered to explain.

  "The children have been rhapsodizing over the beauties of the ocean,"he laughed. With a sly glance at Shirley, he added, "Your niece hasbeen coaching me in metaphysics."

  Shirley shook her finger at him.

  "Now Jefferson, if you make fun of me I'll never talk seriously withyou again."

  "Wie geht es, meine damen?"

  Shirley turned on hearing the guttural salutation. It was CaptainHegermann, the commander of the ship, a big florid Saxon with greatbushy golden whiskers and a basso voice like Edouard de Reszke. He wasimposing in his smart uniform and gold braid and his manner had theself-reliant, authoritative air usual in men who have greatresponsibilities and are accustomed to command. He was taking hisafternoon stroll and had stopped to chat with his lady passengers. Hehad already passed Mrs. Blake a dozen times and not noticed her, butnow her pretty niece was with her, which altered the situation. Hetalked to the aunt and looked at Shirley, much to the annoyance ofJefferson, who muttered things under his breath.

  "When shall we be in, captain?" asked Mrs. Blake anxiously, forgettingthat this was one of the questions which according to ship etiquettemust never be asked of the officers.

  But as long as he could ignore Mrs. Blake and gaze at Shirley Capt.Hegermann did not mind. He answered amiably:

  "At the rate we are going, we ought to sight Fire Island sometimeto-morrow evening. If we do, that will get us to our dock about 11o'clock Friday morning, I fancy." Then addressing Shirley direct hesaid:

  "And you, fraulein, I hope you won't be glad the voyage is over?"

  Shirley sighed and a worried, anxious look came into her face.

  "Yes, Captain, I shall be very glad. It is not pleasure that isbringing me back to America so soon."

  The captain elevated his eyebrows. He was sorry the you
ng lady hadanxieties to keep her so serious, and he hoped she would findeverything all right on her arrival. Then, politely saluting, he passedon, only to halt again a few paces on where his bewhiskered gallantrymet with more encouragement.

  Mrs. Blake rose from her chair. The air was decidedly cooler, she wouldgo downstairs and prepare for dinner. Shirley said she would remain ondeck a little longer. She was tired of walking, so when her aunt leftthem she took her chair and told Jefferson to get another. He wantednothing better, but before seating himself he took the rugs and wrappedShirley up with all the solicitude of a mother caring for her firstborn. Arranging the pillow under her head, he asked:

  "Is that comfortable?"

  She nodded, smiling at him.

  "You're a good boy, Jeff. But you'll spoil me."

  "Nonsense," he stammered as he took another chair and put himself byher side. "As if any fellow wouldn't give his boots to do a little joblike that for you!"

  She seemed to take no notice of the covert compliment. In fact, shealready took it as a matter of course that Jefferson was very fond ofher.

  Did she love him? She hardly knew. Certainly she thought more of himthan of any other man she knew and she readily believed that she couldbe with him for the rest of her life and like him better every day.Then, too, they had become more intimate during the last few days. Thistrouble, this unknown peril had drawn them together. Yes, she would besorry if she were to see Jefferson paying attention to another woman.Was this love? Perhaps.

  These thoughts were running through her mind as they sat there side byside isolated from the main herd of passengers, each silent, watchingthrough the open rail the foaming water as it rushed past. Jeffersonhad been casting furtive glances at his companion and as he noted herserious, pensive face he thought how pretty she was. He wondered whatshe was thinking of and suddenly inspired no doubt by the mysteriouspower that enables some people to read the thoughts of others, he saidabruptly:

  "Shirley, I can read your thoughts. You were thinking of me."

  She was startled for a moment but immediately recovered her selfpossession. It never occurred to her to deny it. She pondered for amoment and then replied:

  "You are right, Jeff, I was thinking of you. How did you guess?"

  He leaned over her chair and took her hand. She made no resistance. Herdelicate, slender hand lay passively in his big brown one and met hisgrasp frankly, cordially. He whispered:

  "What were you thinking of me--good or bad?"

  "Good, of course. How could I think anything bad of you?"

  She turned her eyes on him in wonderment. Then she went on:

  "I was wondering how a girl could distinguish between the feeling shehas for a man she merely likes, and the feeling she has for a man sheloves."

  Jefferson bent eagerly forward so as to lose no word that might fallfrom those coveted lips.

  "In what category would I be placed?" he asked.

  "I don't quite know," she answered, laughingly. Then seriously, sheadded: "Jeff, why should we act like children? Your actions, more thanyour words, have told me that you love me. I have known it all along.If I have appeared cold and indifferent it is because"--she hesitated.

  "Because?" echoed Jefferson anxiously, as if his whole future dependedon that reason.

  "Because I was not sure of myself. Would it be womanly or honourable onmy part to encourage you, unless I felt I reciprocated your feelings?You are young, one day you will be very rich, the whole world liesbefore you. There are plenty of women who would willingly give youtheir love."

  "No--no!" he burst out in vigorous protest, "it is you I want, Shirley,you alone."

  Grasping her hand more closely, he went on, passion vibrating in everynote of his voice. "I love you, Shirley. I've loved you from the veryfirst evening I met you. I want you to be my wife."

  Shirley looked straight up into the blue eyes so eagerly bent down onhers, so entreating in their expression, and in a gentle voice full ofemotion she answered:

  "Jefferson, you have done me the greatest honour a man can do a woman.Don't ask me to answer you now. I like you very much--I more than likeyou. Whether it is love I feel for you--that I have not yet determined.Give me time. My present trouble and then my literary work---"

  "I know," agreed Jefferson, "that this is hardly the time to speak ofsuch matters. Your father has first call on your attention. But as toyour literary work. I do not understand."

  "Simply this. I am ambitious. I have had a little success--just enoughto crave for more. I realize that marriage would put an extinguisher onall aspirations in that direction."

  "Is marriage so very commonplace?" grumbled Jefferson.

  "Not commonplace, but there is no room in marriage for a woman havingpersonal ambitions of her own. Once married her duty is to her husbandand her children--not to herself."

  "That is right," he replied; "but which is likely to give you greaterjoy--a literary success or a happy wifehood? When you have spent yourbest years and given the public your best work they will throw you overfor some new favorite. You'll find yourself an old woman with nothingmore substantial to show as your life work than that questionableasset, a literary reputation. How many literary reputations to-dayconceal an aching heart and find it difficult to make both ends meet?How different with the woman who married young and obeys Nature'sbehest by contributing her share to the process of evolution. Her lifeis spent basking in the affection of her husband and the chubby smilesof her dimpled babes, and when in the course of time she finds herselfin the twilight of her life, she has at her feet a new generation ofher own flesh and blood. Isn't that better than a literary reputation?"

  He spoke so earnestly that Shirley looked at him in surprise. She knewhe was serious but she had not suspected that he thought so deeply onthese matters. Her heart told her that he was uttering the truephilosophy of the ages. She said:

  "Why, Jefferson, you talk like a book. Perhaps you are right, I have nowish to be a blue stocking and deserted in my old age, far from it. Butgive me time to think. Let us first ascertain the extent of thisdisaster which has overtaken my father. Then if you still care for meand if I have not changed my mind," here she glanced slyly at him, "wewill resume our discussion."

  Again she held out her hand which he had released.

  "Is it a bargain?" she asked.

  "It's a bargain," he murmured, raising the white hand to his lips. Afierce longing rose within him to take her in his arms and kisspassionately the mouth that lay temptingly near his own, but hiscourage failed him. After all, he reasoned, he had not yet the right.

  A few minutes later they left the deck and went downstairs to dress fordinner. That same evening they stood again at the rail watching themysterious phosphorescence as it sparkled in the moonlight. Herthoughts travelling faster than the ship, Shirley suddenly asked:

  "Do you really think Mr. Ryder will use his influence to help myfather?"

  Jefferson set his jaw fast and the familiar Ryder gleam came into hiseyes as he responded:

  "Why not? My father is all powerful. He has made and unmade judges andlegislators and even presidents. Why should he not be able to put astop to these preposterous proceedings? I will go to him directly weland and we'll see what can be done."

  So the time on shipboard had passed, Shirley alternately buoyed up withhope and again depressed by the gloomiest forebodings. The followingnight they passed Fire Island and the next day the huge steamer droppedanchor at Quarantine.