Off the port bow, Liverpool spread as far as the eye could see through the shredded4 fog; to starboard, off Birkenhead, through a haze5 of pearl and lavender, the tall phantom6 of an old-time battleship loomed7. She was probably one of Nelson’s ships, now only an apparition8; but to Neeland, as he caught sight of her dimly revealed, still dominating the water, the old ship seemed like a menacing ghost, never to be laid until the sceptre of sea power fell from an enervated9 empire and the glory of Great Britain departed for all time. And in his Yankee heart he hoped devoutly10 that such disaster to the world might never come upon it.
Few passengers were yet astir; the tender had not yet come alongside; the monstrous11 city beyond had not awakened12.
But a boat manned by Liverpool police lay off the Volhynia’s port; Neeland’s steamer trunk was already in it; and now the captain accompanied him to the ladder, where a sailor took his suitcase and the olive-wood 254box and ran down the landing stairs like a monkey.
“Good luck,” said the captain of the Volhynia. “And keep it in your mind every minute that those two men and that woman probably are at this moment aboard some German fishing craft, and headed for France.
“Remember, too, that they are merely units in a vast system; that they are certain to communicate with other units; that between you and Paris are people who will be notified to watch for you, follow you, rob you.”
Neeland nodded thoughtfully.
The captain said again:
“Good luck! I wish you were free to turn over that box to us. But if you’ve given your word to deliver it in person, the whole matter involves, naturally, a point of honour.”
“Yes. I have no discretion14 in the matter, you see.” He laughed. “You’re thinking, Captain West, that I haven’t much discretion anyway.”
“I don’t think you have very much,” admitted the captain, smiling and shaking the hand which Neeland offered. “Well, this is merely one symptom of a very serious business, Mr. Neeland. That an attempt should actually have been made to murder you and to blow me to pieces in my cabin is a slight indication of what a cataclysmic explosion may shatter the peace of the entire world at any moment now.... Good-bye. And I warn you very solemnly to take this affair as a deadly serious one and not as a lark15.”
They exchanged a firm clasp; then Neeland descended16 and entered the boat; the Inspector17 of Police took the tiller; the policemen bent18 to the oars19, and the boat shot away through a mist which was turning to a golden vapour.255
It was within a few boat-lengths of the landing stairs that Neeland, turning for a last look into the steaming golden glory behind him, saw the most splendid sight of his life. And that sight was the British Empire assuming sovereignty.
For there, before his eyes, militant20, magnificent, the British fleet was taking the sea, gliding21 out to accept its fealty22, moving majestically23 in mass after mass of steel under flowing torrents24 of smoke, with the phantom battle flags whipping aloft in the blinding smother25 of mist and sun and the fawning26 cut-water hurrying too, as though even every littlest wave were mobilised and hastening seaward in the service of its mistress, Ruler of all Waters, untroubled by a man-made Kiel.
And now there was no more time to be lost; no more stops until he arrived in Paris. A taxicab rushed him and his luggage across the almost empty city; a train, hours earlier than the regular steamer train, carried him to London where, as he drove through the crowded, sunlit streets, in a hansom cab, he could see news-venders holding up strips of paper on which was printed in great, black letters:
THE BRITISH FLEET SAILS
SPY IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS
CHARLES WILSON, M. P., ACCUSED
MISSING MEMBER SUPPOSED TO BE KARL BRESLAU,
INTERNATIONAL SPY
And he noticed knots of people pausing to buy the latest editions of the papers offered.
But Neeland had no time to see much more of London than that—glimpses of stately grey buildings and 256green trees; of monuments and palaces where soldiers in red tunics27 stood guard; the crush of traffic in the city; trim, efficient police, their helmets strapped28 to their heads, disentangling the streams of vehicles, halting, directing everything with calm and undisturbed precision; a squadron of cavalry29 in brilliant uniforms leisurely30 emerging from some park between iron railings under stately trees; then the crowded confusion of a railroad station, but not the usual incidents of booking and departure, because he was to travel by a fast goods train under telegraphed authority of the British Government.
And that is about all that Neeland saw of the mightiest31 city in the world on the eve of the greatest conflict among the human races that the earth has ever witnessed, or ever shall, D. V.
The flying goods train that took him to the Channel port whence a freight packet was departing, offered him the luxury of a leather padded armchair in a sealed and grated mail van.
Nobody disturbed him; nobody questioned him; the train officials were civil and incurious, and went calmly about their business with all the traditional stolidity32 of official John Bull.
Neeland had plenty of leisure to think as he sat there in his heavy chair which vibrated but did not sway very much; and his mind was fully13 occupied with his reflections, for, so far, he had not had time to catalogue, index, and arrange them in proper order, so rapid and so startling had been the sequence of events since he had left his studio in New York for Paris, via Brookhollow, London, and other points east.
One thing in particular continued to perplex and astonish him: the identity of a member of Parliament, 257known as Charles Wilson, suddenly revealed as Karl Breslau, an international spy.
The wildest flight of fancy of an irresponsible novelist had never created such a character in penny-dreadful fiction. It remained incomprehensible, almost incredible to Neeland that such a thing could be true.
Also, the young man had plenty of food for reflection, if not for luncheon33, in trying to imagine exactly how Golden Beard and Ali Baba, and that strange, illogical young girl, Ilse Dumont, had escaped from the Volhynia.
Probably, in the darkness, the fishing boat which they expected had signalled in some way or other. No doubt the precious trio had taken to the water in their life-jackets and had been picked up even before armed sailors on the Volhynia descended to their empty state-rooms and took possession of what luggage could be discovered, and of the three bombs with their charred34 wicks still soaking on the sopping35 bed.
And now the affair had finally ended, Neeland believed, in spite of Captain West’s warnings. For how could three industrious36 conspirators37 in a fishing smack38 off the Lizard39 do him any further damage?
If they had managed to relay information concerning him to their friends ashore40 by some set of preconcerted signals, possibly the regular steamer train to and out of London might be watched.
Thinking of this, it presently occurred to Neeland that friends in France, also, might be stirred up in time to offer him their marked attentions. This, no doubt, was what Captain West meant; and Neeland considered the possibility as the flying train whirled him toward the Channel.
He asked if he might smoke, and was informed that 258he might; and he lighted a cigarette and stretched out on his chair, a little hungry from lack of luncheon, a trifle tired from lack of sleep, but, in virtue41 of his vigorous and youthful years, comfortable, contented42, and happy.
Never, he admitted, had he had such a good time in all his life, despite the fact that chance alone, and not his own skill and alertness and perspicacity43, had saved his neck.
No, he could not congratulate himself on his cleverness and wisdom; sheer accident had saved his skin—and once the complex and unaccountable vagary44 of a feminine mind had saved him from annihilation so utter that it slightly sickened him to remember his position in Ilse Dumont’s stateroom as she lifted her pistol and coolly made good her boast as a dead-shot. But he forced himself to take it lightly.
“Good Lord!” he thought to himself. “Was ever a man in such a hellish position, except in melodrama45? And what a movie that would have made! And what a shot that girl proved herself to be! Certainly she could have killed me there at Brookhollow! She could have riddled46 me before I ducked, even with that nickel-plated affair about which I was ass3 enough to taunt47 her!”
Lying in his chair, cheek on arm, he continued to ponder on what had happened, until the monotonous48 vibration49 no longer interfered50 with his inclination51 for a nap. On the contrary, the slight, rhythmic52 jolting53 soothed54 him and gradually induced slumber55; and he slept there on the rushing train, his feet crossed and resting on the olive-wood box.
A hand on his arm aroused him; the sea wind blowing 259through the open doors of the mail-van dashed in his face like a splash of cool water as he sat up and looked around him.
As he descended from the van an officer of the freight packet greeted him by name; a sailor piled his luggage on a barrow; and Neeland walked through the vista56 of covered docks to the pier57.
There was a lively wind whipping that notoriously bad-mannered streak58 of water known as the English Channel. Possibly, had it been christened the French Channel its manners might have been more polite. But there was now nothing visible about it to justify59 its sentimental60 pseudonym61 of Silver Streak.
It was a dirty colour, ominous62 of ill-temper beyond the great breakwater to the northward63; and it fretted64 and fumed65 inshore and made white and ghastly faces from the open sea.
But Neeland, dining from a tray in a portholed pit consecrated66 to the use of a casual supercargo, rejoiced because he adored the sea, inland lubber that he had been born and where the tides of fate had stranded67 him. For, to a New Yorker, the sea seems far away—as far as it seems to the Parisian. And only when chance business takes him to the Battery does a New Yorker realise the nearness of the ocean to that vast volume of ceaseless dissonance called New York.
Neeland ate cold meat and bread and cheese, and washed it down with bitters.
He was nearly asleep on his sofa when the packet cast off.
He was sound asleep when, somewhere in the raging darkness of the Channel, he was hurled69 from the sofa against the bunk70 opposite—into which he 260presently crawled and lay, still half asleep, mechanically rubbing a maltreated shin.
Twice more the bad-mannered British Channel was violently rude to him; each time he crawled back to stick like a limpet in the depths of his bunk.
Except when the Channel was too discourteous71, he slept as a sea bird sleeps afloat, tossing outside thundering combers which batter68 basalt rocks.
Even in his deep, refreshing72 sea sleep, the subtle sense of exhilaration—of well-being—which contact with the sea always brought to him, possessed73 him. And, deep within him, the drop of Irish seethed74 and purred as a kettle purrs through the watches of the night over a banked but steady fire.
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1
clotted
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| adj.凝结的v.凝固( clot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tug
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| v.用力拖(或拉)；苦干；n.拖；苦干；拖船 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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shredded
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| shred的过去式和过去分词 | |
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haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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7
loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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8
apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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9
enervated
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| adj.衰弱的，无力的v.使衰弱，使失去活力( enervate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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10
devoutly
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| adv.虔诚地，虔敬地，衷心地 | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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12
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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13
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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14
discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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15
lark
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| n.云雀，百灵鸟；n.嬉戏，玩笑；vi.嬉戏 | |
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16
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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17
inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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18
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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19
oars
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| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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20
militant
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| adj.激进的，好斗的；n.激进分子，斗士 | |
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21
gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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fealty
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| n.忠贞，忠节 | |
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majestically
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| 雄伟地； 庄重地； 威严地； 崇高地 | |
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24
torrents
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| n.倾注；奔流( torrent的名词复数 )；急流；爆发；连续不断 | |
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25
smother
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| vt./vi.使窒息；抑制；闷死；n.浓烟；窒息 | |
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26
fawning
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| adj.乞怜的，奉承的v.（尤指狗等）跳过来往人身上蹭以示亲热( fawn的现在分词 )；巴结；讨好 | |
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27
tunics
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| n.（动植物的）膜皮( tunic的名词复数 )；束腰宽松外衣；一套制服的短上衣；（天主教主教等穿的）短祭袍 | |
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28
strapped
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| adj.用皮带捆住的，用皮带装饰的；身无分文的；缺钱；手头紧v.用皮带捆扎(strap的过去式和过去分词)；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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29
cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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30
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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31
mightiest
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| adj.趾高气扬( mighty的最高级 )；巨大的；强有力的；浩瀚的 | |
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32
stolidity
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| n.迟钝，感觉麻木 | |
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33
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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34
charred
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| v.把…烧成炭( char的过去式)；烧焦 | |
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35
sopping
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| adj. 浑身湿透的 动词sop的现在分词形式 | |
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36
industrious
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| adj.勤劳的，刻苦的，奋发的 | |
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37
conspirators
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| n.共谋者，阴谋家( conspirator的名词复数 ) | |
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38
smack
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| vt.拍，打，掴；咂嘴；vi.含有…意味；n.拍 | |
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39
lizard
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| n.蜥蜴，壁虎 | |
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40
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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41
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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42
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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43
perspicacity
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| n. 敏锐, 聪明, 洞察力 | |
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44
vagary
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| n.妄想，不可测之事，异想天开 | |
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45
melodrama
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| n.音乐剧；情节剧 | |
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46
riddled
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| adj.布满的；充斥的；泛滥的v.解谜，出谜题(riddle的过去分词形式) | |
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47
taunt
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| n.辱骂，嘲弄；v.嘲弄 | |
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48
monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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49
vibration
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| n.颤动，振动；摆动 | |
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50
interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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51
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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52
rhythmic
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| adj.有节奏的，有韵律的 | |
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53
jolting
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| adj.令人震惊的 | |
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54
soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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55
slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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56
vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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57
pier
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| n.码头；桥墩，桥柱；[建]窗间壁，支柱 | |
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58
streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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59
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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60
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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61
pseudonym
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| n.假名，笔名 | |
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62
ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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63
northward
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| adv.向北；n.北方的地区 | |
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64
fretted
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| 焦躁的，附有弦马的，腐蚀的 | |
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65
fumed
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| 愤怒( fume的过去式和过去分词 )； 大怒； 发怒； 冒烟 | |
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66
consecrated
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| adj.神圣的，被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 )；奉献 | |
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67
stranded
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| a.搁浅的，进退两难的 | |
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68
batter
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| v.接连重击；磨损；n.牛奶面糊；击球员 | |
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69
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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70
bunk
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| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
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71
discourteous
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| adj.不恭的，不敬的 | |
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72
refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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73
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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74
seethed
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| （液体）沸腾( seethe的过去式和过去分词 )； 激动，大怒； 强压怒火； 生闷气(~with sth|~ at sth) | |
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