Chapter 7 On The Boat-Deck

    Rising waters and a fine flying scud that whipped stingingly overthe side had driven most of the passengers on the _Atlantic_ to theshelter of their staterooms or to the warm stuffiness of thelibrary. It was the fifth evening of the voyage. For five daysand four nights the ship had been racing through a placid oceanon her way to Sandy Hook: but in the early hours of thisafternoon the wind had shifted to the north, bringing heavy seas.

　　Darkness had begun to fall now. The sky was a sullen black. Thewhite crests of the rollers gleamed faintly in the dusk, and thewind sang in the ropes.

　　Jimmy and Ann had had the boat-deck to themselves for half anhour. Jimmy was a good sailor: it exhilarated him to fight thewind and to walk a deck that heaved and dipped and shudderedbeneath his feet; but he had not expected to have Ann's companyon such an evening. But she had come out of the saloon entrance,her small face framed in a hood and her slim body shapelessbeneath a great cloak, and joined him in his walk.

　　Jimmy was in a mood of exaltation. He had passed the last fewdays in a condition of intermittent melancholy, consequent on thediscovery that he was not the only man on board the _Atlantic_ whodesired the society of Ann as an alleviation of the tedium of anocean voyage. The world, when he embarked on this venture, hadconsisted so exclusively of Ann and himself that, until the shipwas well on its way to Queenstown, he had not conceived thepossibility of intrusive males forcing their unwelcome attentionson her. And it had added bitterness to the bitter awakening thattheir attentions did not appear to be at all unwelcome. Almostimmediately after breakfast on the very first day, a creature witha small black moustache and shining teeth had descended upon Annand, vocal with surprise and pleasure at meeting her again--heclaimed, damn him!, to have met her before at Palm Beach, BarHarbor, and a dozen other places--had carried her off to play anidiotic game known as shuffle-board. Nor was this an isolatedcase. It began to be borne in upon Jimmy that Ann, whom he hadlooked upon purely in the light of an Eve playing opposite hisAdam in an exclusive Garden of Eden, was an extremely well-knownand popular character. The clerk at the shipping-office had liedabsurdly when he had said that very few people were crossing onthe _Atlantic_ this voyage. The vessel was crammed till its sidesbulged, it was loaded down in utter defiance of the Plimsoll law,with Rollos and Clarences and Dwights and Twombleys who had knownand golfed and ridden and driven and motored and swum and dancedwith Ann for years. A ghastly being entitled Edgar Something orTeddy Something had beaten Jimmy by a short head in the race forthe deck-steward, the prize of which was the placing of hisdeck-chair next to Ann's. Jimmy had been driven from thepromenade deck by the spectacle of this beastly creature lyingswathed in rugs reading best-sellers to her.

　　He had scarcely seen her to speak to since the beginning of thevoyage. When she was not walking with Rolly or playingshuffle-board with Twombley, she was down below ministering tothe comfort of a chronically sea-sick aunt, referred to inconversation as "poor aunt Nesta". Sometimes Jimmy saw the littleman--presumably her uncle--in the smoking-room, and once he cameupon the stout boy recovering from the effects of a cigar in aquiet corner of the boat-deck: but apart from these meetings thefamily was as distant from him as if he had never seen Ann atall--let alone saved her life.

　　And now she had dropped down on him from heaven. They were alonetogether with the good clean wind and the bracing scud. Rollo,Clarence, Dwight, and Twombley, not to mention Edgar or possiblyTeddy, were down below--he hoped, dying. They had the world tothemselves.

　　"I love rough weather," said Ann, lifting her face to the wind.

　　Her eyes were very bright. She was beyond any doubt or questionthe only girl on earth. "Poor aunt Nesta doesn't. She was badenough when it was quite calm, but this storm has finished her.

　　I've just been down below, trying to cheer her up."Jimmy thrilled at the picture. Always fascinating, Ann seemed tohim at her best in the role of ministering angel. He longed totell her so, but found no words. They reached the end of thedeck, and turned. Ann looked up at him.

　　"I've hardly seen anything of you since we sailed," she said. Shespoke almost reproachfully. "Tell me all about yourself, Mr.

　　Bayliss. Why are you going to America?"Jimmy had had an impassioned indictment of the Rollos on histongue, but she had closed the opening for it as quickly as shehad made it. In face of her direct demand for information hecould not hark back to it now. After all, what did the Rollosmatter? They had no part in this little wind-swept world: theywere where they belonged, in some nether hell on the C. or D.

　　deck, moaning for death.

　　"To make a fortune, I hope," he said.

　　Ann was pleased at this confirmation of her diagnosis. She haddeduced this from the evidence at Paddington Station.

　　"How pleased your father will be if you do!"The slight complexity of Jimmy's affairs caused him to pause fora moment to sort out his fathers, but an instant's reflectiontold him that she must be referring to Bayliss the butler.

　　"Yes.""He's a dear old man," said Ann. "I suppose he's very proud ofyou?""I hope so.""You must do tremendously well in America, so as not todisappoint him. What are you thinking of doing?"Jimmy considered for a moment.

　　"Newspaper work, I think.""Oh? Why, have you had any experience?""A little."Ann seemed to grow a little aloof, as if her enthusiasm had beendamped.

　　"Oh, well, I suppose it's a good enough profession. I'm not veryfond of it myself. I've only met one newspaper man in my life,and I dislike him very much, so I suppose that has prejudicedme.""Who was that?""You wouldn't have met him. He was on an American paper. A mannamed Crocker."A sudden gust of wind drove them back a step, rendering talkimpossible. It covered a gap when Jimmy could not have spoken.

　　The shock of the information that Ann had met him before made himdumb. This thing was beyond him. It baffled him.

　　Her next words supplied a solution. They were under shelter ofone of the boats now and she could make herself heard.

　　"It was five years ago, and I only met him for a very shortwhile, but the prejudice has lasted."Jimmy began to understand. Five years ago! It was not so strange,then, that they should not recognise each other now. He stirredup his memory. Nothing came to the surface. Not a gleam ofrecollection of that early meeting rewarded him. And yetsomething of importance must have happened then, for her toremember it. Surely his mere personality could not have been sounpleasant as to have made such a lasting impression on her!

　　"I wish you could do something better than newspaper work," saidAnn. "I always think the splendid part about America is that itis such a land of adventure. There are such millions of chances.

　　It's a place where anything may happen. Haven't you anadventurous soul, Mr. Bayliss?"No man lightly submits to a charge, even a hinted charge, ofbeing deficient in the capacity for adventure.

　　"Of course I have," said Jimmy indignantly. "I'm game to tackleanything that comes along.""I'm glad of that."Her feeling of comradeship towards this young man deepened. Sheloved adventure and based her estimate of any member of theopposite sex largely on his capacity for it. She moved in a set,when at home, which was more polite than adventurous, and hadfrequently found the atmosphere enervating.

　　"Adventure," said Jimmy, "is everything."He paused. "Or a good deal," he concluded weakly.

　　"Why qualify it like that? It sounds so tame. Adventure is thebiggest thing in life."It seemed to Jimmy that he had received an excuse for a remark ofa kind that had been waiting for utterance ever since he had mether. Often and often in the watches of the night, smoking endlesspipes and thinking of her, he had conjured up just such a visionas this--they two walking the deserted deck alone, and sheinnocently giving him an opening for some low-voiced, tenderspeech, at which she would start, look at him quickly, and thenask him haltingly if the words had any particular application.

　　And after that--oh, well, all sorts of things might happen. Andnow the moment had come. It was true that he had always picturedthe scene as taking place by moonlight and at present there was ahalf-gale blowing, out of an inky sky; also on the presentoccasion anything in the nature of a low-voiced speech wasabsolutely out of the question owing to the uproar of theelements. Still, taking these drawbacks into consideration, thechance was far too good to miss. Such an opening might neverhappen again. He waited till the ship had steadied herself afteran apparently suicidal dive into an enormous roller, then,staggering back to her side, spoke.

　　"Love is the biggest thing in life!" he roared.

　　"What is?" shrieked Ann.

　　"Love!" bellowed Jimmy.

　　He wished a moment later that he had postponed this statement offaith, for their next steps took them into a haven of comparativecalm, where some dimly seen portion of the vessel's anatomyjutted out and formed a kind of nook where it was possible tohear the ordinary tones of the human voice. He halted here, andAnn did the same, though unwillingly. She was conscious of afeeling of disappointment and of a modification of her mood ofcomradeship towards her companion. She held strong views, whichshe believed to be unalterable, on the subject under discussion.

　　"Love!" she said. It was too dark to see her face, but her voicesounded unpleasantly scornful. "I shouldn't have thought that youwould have been so conventional as that. You seemed different.""Eh?" said Jimmy blankly.

　　"I hate all this talk about Love, as if it were somethingwonderful that was worth everything else in life put together.

　　Every book you read and every song that you see in theshop-windows is all about Love. It's as if the whole world werein a conspiracy to persuade themselves that there's a wonderfulsomething just round the corner which they can get if they tryhard enough. And they hypnotise themselves into thinking ofnothing else and miss all the splendid things of life.""That's Shaw, isn't it?" said Jimmy.

　　"What is Shaw?""What you were saying. It's out of one of Bernard Shaw's things,isn't it?""It is not." A note of acidity had crept into Ann's voice. "It isperfectly original.""I'm certain I've heard it before somewhere.""If you have, that simply means that you must have associatedwith some sensible person."Jimmy was puzzled.

　　"But why the grouch?" he asked.

　　"I don't understand you.""I mean, why do you feel that way about it?"Ann was quite certain now that she did not like this young mannearly as well as she had supposed. It is trying for astrong-minded, clear-thinking girl to have her philosophydescribed as a grouch.

　　"Because I've had the courage to think about it for myself, andnot let myself be blinded by popular superstition. The wholeworld has united in making itself imagine that there is somethingcalled love which is the most wonderful happening in life. Thepoets and novelists have simply hounded them on to believe it.

　　It's a gigantic swindle."A wave of tender compassion swept over Jimmy. He understood itall now. Naturally a girl who had associated all her life withthe Rollos, Clarences, Dwights, and Twombleys would come todespair of the possibility of falling in love with any one.

　　"You haven't met the right man," he said. She had, of course, butonly recently: and, anyway, he could point that out later.

　　"There is no such thing as the right man," said Ann resolutely,"if you are suggesting that there is a type of man in existencewho is capable of inspiring what is called romantic love. Ibelieve in marriage. . . .""Good work!" said Jimmy, well satisfied.

　　" . . . But not as the result of a sort of delirium. I believe init as a sensible partnership between two friends who know eachother well and trust each other. The right way of looking atmarriage is to realise, first of all, that there are no thrills,no romances, and then to pick out some one who is nice and kindand amusing and full of life and willing to do things to make youhappy.""Ah!" said Jimmy, straightening his tie, "Well, that'ssomething.""How do you mean--that's something? Are you shocked at my views?""I don't believe they are your views. You've been reading one ofthese stern, soured fellows who analyse things."Ann stamped. The sound was inaudible, but Jimmy noticed themovement.

　　"Cold?" he said. "Let's walk on."Ann's sense of humour reasserted itself. It was not often that itremained dormant for so long. She laughed.

　　"I know exactly what you are thinking," she said. "You believethat I am posing, that those aren't my real opinions.""They can't be. But I don't think you are posing. It's getting onfor dinner-time, and you've got that wan, sinking feeling thatmakes you look upon the world and find it a hollow fraud. Thebugle will be blowing in a few minutes, and half an hour afterthat you will be yourself again.""I'm myself now. I suppose you can't realise that a pretty girlcan hold such views."Jimmy took her arm.

　　"Let me help you," he said. "There's a knothole in the deck.

　　Watch your step. Now, listen to me. I'm glad you've brought upthis subject--I mean the subject of your being the prettiest girlin the known world--""I never said that.""Your modesty prevented you. But it's a fact, nevertheless. I'mglad, I say, because I have been thinking a lot along those linesmyself, and I have been anxious to discuss the point with you.

　　You have the most glorious hair I have ever seen!""Do you like red hair?""Red-gold.""It is nice of you to put it like that. When I was a child allexcept a few of the other children called me Carrots.""They have undoubtedly come to a bad end by this time. If bearswere sent to attend to the children who criticised Elijah, yourlittle friends were in line for a troupe of tigers. But therewere some of a finer fibre? There were a few who didn't call youCarrots?""One or two. They called me Brick-Top.""They have probably been electrocuted since. Your eyes areperfectly wonderful!"Ann withdrew her arm. An extensive acquaintance of young men toldher that the topic of conversation was now due to be changed.

　　"You will like America," she said.

　　"We are not discussing America.""I am. It is a wonderful country for a man who wants to succeed.

　　If I were you, I should go out West.""Do you live out West?""No.""Then why suggest my going there? Where do you live?""I live in New York.""I shall stay in New York, then."Ann was wary, but amused. Proposals of marriage--and Jimmy seemedto be moving swiftly towards one--were no novelty in her life. Inthe course of several seasons at Bar Harbor, Tuxedo, Palm Beach,and in New York itself, she had spent much of her time foilingand discouraging the ardour of a series of sentimental youths whohad laid their unwelcome hearts at her feet.

　　"New York is open for staying in about this time, I believe."Jimmy was silent. He had done his best to fight a tendency tobecome depressed and had striven by means of a light tone to keephimself resolutely cheerful, but the girl's apparently totalindifference to him was too much for his spirits. One of theyoung men who had had to pick up the heart he had flung at Ann'sfeet and carry it away for repairs had once confided to anintimate friend, after the sting had to some extent passed, thatthe feelings of a man who made love to Ann might be likened tothe emotions which hot chocolate might be supposed to entertainon contact with vanilla ice-cream. Jimmy, had the comparison beenpresented to him, would have endorsed its perfect accuracy. Thewind from the sea, until now keen and bracing, had become merelyinfernally cold. The song of the wind in the rigging, erstwhilemelodious, had turned into a damned depressing howling.

　　"I used to be as sentimental as any one a few years ago," saidAnn, returning to the dropped subject. "Just after I leftcollege, I was quite maudlin. I dreamed of moons and Junes andloves and doves all the time. Then something happened which mademe see what a little fool I was. It wasn't pleasant at the time,but it had a very bracing effect. I have been quite differentever since. It was a man, of course, who did it. His method wasquite simple. He just made fun of me, and Nature did the rest."Jimmy scowled in the darkness. Murderous thoughts towards theunknown brute flooded his mind.

　　"I wish I could meet him!" he growled.

　　"You aren't likely to," said Ann. "He lives in England. His nameis Crocker. Jimmy Crocker. I spoke about him just now."Through the howling of the wind cut the sharp notes of a bugle.

　　Ann turned to the saloon entrance.

　　"Dinner!" she said brightly. "How hungry one gets on board ship!"She stopped. "Aren't you coming down, Mr. Bayliss?""Not just yet," said Jimmy thickly.