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CHAPTER III – THE FIRST NIGHT OUT
While sampling the tiers of candies – each box vying with another in artistic decorations – and then sniffing at the pyramids of flowers sent by loving friends to the voyagers, the girls gossiped of the recent events, the first experiences of their trip South.
From this form of light conversation, the talk drifted to the discussion of the weather and the waves. The sea was not as smooth and glassy as it might have been, and the vessel these bragging maids were now on was not as firm and quiet under foot as the Oceanic or the Aquitania. In fact, every huge roller seemed to heave the dainty White Crest up at one end and let it drop at the other. This rather unpleasant tumbling created a slight sense of discomfort in the bosoms of the passengers.
Several boxes of the richest bon bons had been emptied by the group of girls before Mrs. Courtney came in to join them. The moment she saw the boxes, and the girls lounging about nibbling at the sweets, she declared anxiously: “Oh, my dears! Better not eat candy to-night, you know. If we come into smoother water before to-morrow you will have ample time to finish these boxes of candy.”
Elizabeth laughed, with the suggestion of a sneer in her tone. “Any one would think, dear Mrs. Courtney, that we were not good sailors. You might find it necessary to deprive yourself of certain good things to eat, but I have crossed several times and I am never troubled with mal de mer.”
“Polly and I never felt a qualm when we went over last year; but that was on a great gigantic steamer that felt different from this rocking.” As Eleanor spoke she dropped a tempting chocolate cream back into the box.
“I was about to remark, just as Mrs. Courtney came in, that it might be wiser for us to defer sampling the rest of the candy until to-morrow. This unusual rocking between the tops and the bottoms of the waves is a bit uncanny – don’t you agree with me?” Polly looked concerned at the sensation she felt.
Elizabeth laughed unkindly. “You are in for a lovely time, my dear child!”
“Well, I’ve crossed three times myself,” now said Nancy Fabian, “but I will admit that this upheaval of the waves is causing me to worry some over my emotions.” Her friends laughed.
“This sea-sick business is only a matter of self-control, I think!” declared Elizabeth, with a superior smile. “Naturally, if one dreads it, one will feel more uncertain of keeping up. Now I never permit myself to dwell upon the disgusting thought of such a condition, and I am as regular at the table each meal as the old sea-seasoned Captains. I have been complimented by the Captains on having good sea-going nerves.”
Mrs. Courtney listened but offered no contribution to the conversation. Polly was about to make a remark when a tap at the door drew the attention of the occupants of the room.
“Come in,” said Eleanor, who sat nearest the door. It was a uniformed boy who came to announce afternoon tea on deck. “Mr. Dalken says to tell you’se all that every one is there waitin’ fer ye’se.”
“All right, thank you. We’ll be there in a moment,” said Eleanor, then she closed the door again. “Any one here want tea? We have had so much candy that I don’t see how we can eat cake or buns.”
“We will go up and join the others, however,” added Mrs. Courtney, rising to lead the way from the state room.
“But, my dears!” exclaimed Elizabeth in shocked tones. “Surely you would not sit down to afternoon tea in these street suits?”
“Of course, Elizabeth. Your father made it very plain that this was to be a rest and pleasure voyage, and not one for dress or social customs. We were asked to live exactly as if we were at home in our own little apartments with no one but family members near,” explained Mrs. Courtney, kindly.
“Well, that may do all right for you, Mrs. Courtney, but I, for one, shall never lower my dignity and social prestige to such a degree that I would have to feel like apologizing to myself for my appearances.” With this rude explanation Elizabeth flounced from the room and went directly to her own stateroom.
Her erstwhile companions, believing she would change her dress and make an elaborate toilet before joining her father’s guests on deck, paid no further attention to her absence. But they hurried out of the room where Elizabeth had indulged in overmuch sweets and fruits, and were soon ensconced in comfortable chairs on deck with the elders who were sipping fragrant tea and enjoying tea cakes.
Tom made room on the divan for Polly, and she had not the initiative to refuse to sit beside him. She could not describe the lack of interest she felt in her friends, or the glorious sky and weather. John and Anne were laughing and exchanging their opinions with Mr. Dalken on the quality of his chef. It was the mutual vote of those present that the cook was a genuine find. John even said it was an appeal to the male to remain on the yacht and continue the trip to the Andes.
The crispy brown cakes were so tempting, and the high praise from the men sounded so alluring, that the girls helped themselves to the refreshments provided. An unusually heavy roller caused a little tremor in the minds of most of the mariners, but the sandwiches and cakes were not neglected for such a small cause.
“Why, of all things!” cried Polly, glancing at the coast line which was standing out clearly defined from the changing hues in the sky. “Here we are off Atlantic Highlands already! It seems just a moment since we passed Sandy Hook.”
“At this rate I fear we will land in Peru long before we are ready to leave the ship,” laughed Eleanor, munching on a chicken sandwich.
For the space of half an hour thereafter, the group of gourmands (self-styled as gourmands because they ate so much of the delicious viands provided by the chef) admired the setting sun and the colors reflected in the sea by the clouds. No one had missed Elizabeth as yet, because every one was busy with the tea table. But now Mr. Dalken glanced uneasily around at the faces so familiar to him, and wondered aloud: “Why, where is Totty?”
His companions glanced from one to the other, and Mrs. Courtney, fearing lest Polly in her frankness might blurt out the truth about suitable dressing for tea, explained: “Elizabeth left us to go to her own room to change her dress. She thought the tailor-made street suit rather heavy and uncomfortable for lounging about a tea table.”
Those who had heard Elizabeth’s unkind remark to Mrs. Courtney silently commended her kind interpretation of the girl’s sentence. Mr. Dalken, believing his daughter would soon appear, felt satisfied to wait for her coming. Then the sudden sinking to the horizon of the great sun-ball of red caused various exclamations of admiration, and also drew the friends to that side of the yacht where the sunset could be seen to the greatest advantage.
As the sun set the wind rose. In a short time a perfect gale was tearing across the waters, and the waves rose accordingly. In fact, so mighty became the rollers, and so uncertain the footing on board the yacht, that it was a risk for the “land-lubbers” to attempt to walk recklessly about the deck. Giant waves, every now and then, washed over the swiftly flying yacht and sprayed the voyagers with salty drops, and Mr. Dalken advised them all to go in and rest before dinner was announced.
Perhaps it was due to obeying his advice to lie down for a short time; perhaps it was the partaking of too much of the delicious viands provided by the jewel of a chef; perhaps it was just plain old sea sickness – but whatever it was, let it here be stated that only two adults appeared in the dining room that evening for dinner: Mrs. Courtney and Mr. Dalken.
Having waited and waited for the appearance of the others in their party, and having ascertained by continued perseverance of a questionnaire, in the form of a ’phone, that his guests preferred to dine in bed, Mr. Dalken finally concluded to eat. Therefore he sent word by said ’phone to ascertain how many trays would be wanted by sick friends.
The reply caused Mrs. Courtney a hearty laugh, while Mr. Dalken found ample pleasure for the next week in referring to that night’s experience, and to their curt thanks to his humanitarian impulses.
Elizabeth had not joined her father’s guests at tea that late afternoon for the very good reason that she threw herself upon the bed in her room and was glad enough to remain there for several days. She had eaten three times as much candy and fruit as any one of her companions, and now she was paying the price for self-indulgence. Where now were all her brags about being such a splendid sailor!
It was not an individual weakness on the part of Polly and Eleanor that they succumbed to the attack of sea sickness soon after they reached their small rooms. But they were not aware at the time that all adults, excepting Mr. Dalken and Mrs. Courtney, had decided against dining that night, and remained in their own rooms instead. Had the two girls dreamed of the truth, that the two pawns in their match-making game were enjoying a tête-à-tête dinner and evening together, this knowledge would have done much to console them for their weird sensations within.
As the evening advanced the gale increased, and those who felt too ill to leave their beds feared lest they might survive till morning. The yacht could not sink quick enough to please them. Elizabeth was one of this group of morbid sailors. The members of the other group who felt able to hold up their heads and take a squint at the turbulent waters and sky now and then when the craft seemed to spin about on a pivot, or suddenly soar to the sky and as quickly change its course to sink to the bottom of the sea, prayed and prayed that the shores of Florida might loom up within the next few hours – that they might go ashore.
These prayers, being selfish ones, were not answered, and the coast of Florida remained where it had been placed in the order of arranging the New World.
Having managed to drag herself across her room to the porthole, Polly looked out to see whether the moon was the next stop. She thought the yacht had been going, prow upwards, for the last hour. To her amazement she saw they were still on the sea, but such a sea! So tumbled and troubled that she wished for oil to pour upon it.
Eleanor and Polly shared one room, and now Eleanor lifted her head and wailed: “What do you see, Poll?”
“I see sea, that’s all. Oh, my head!” and Polly fell into a chair and caught her head between her hands.
In spite of her wish to die, Eleanor could not refrain from laughing at her chum. “I should have said you see saw, instead of see sea, judging from the ‘now we go up, and now we go down’ behavior of the board we are on.”
But no answering smile came from Polly’s somber face.
Eleanor, not to be discouraged in her wish to help her friend cheer up, murmured: “If we feel this way, Poll, how do you suppose precious Totty is doing?”
This struck Polly’s sense of humor at the right moment. She had to laugh in spite of her wish to ponder on death and the hereafter. The picture of Elizabeth as she bragged of her seamanship, gave cause to a duet of merriment from the two girls. This acted like a tonic, and thenceforth they began to feel easier. Then, too, the gale had spent its fury and began gradually to calm down.
A soft knock on the door of their room brought forth the command to come in. Mrs. Courtney, looking magnificent in her simple but elegant dinner gown entered with a cheerful smile for the girls.
“Well, well! Where are the seasoned ocean travelers?” said she in a quizzing tone.
“Lost! Went down off Sandy Hook!” retorted Eleanor.
“Who are these shadows in their place?” continued Mrs. Courtney, teasingly.
“Never mind who we are,” was Polly’s laughing rejoinder, “but tell us this much: where is Elizabeth, and what is she doing?”
“That I cannot say, my dears, till after Mr. Dalken comes from his daughter’s room. I left him just now about to visit her, then I came in here to see you. I understand she wishes to die without delay.”
This seemed to tickle Polly and Eleanor greatly. They actually exchanged delighted glances, and Eleanor said: “Serves her right.”
“Oh, come,” returned Mrs. Courtney, “don’t say that. The poor child has never had any real example of what is right and good, so how can one expect of her what we do of girls like you and Polly?”
“Well,” said Polly, swinging her feet out of bed, “I believe I am able to sit up and enjoy this visit. The sea must be calming down considerably from the smooth manner in which the yacht is moving.”
But Polly spoke too soon. The moment she tried to stand upon her feet she swayed uncertainly and her head spun around like a top. Mrs. Courtney sprang over and caught her arm and steadied her till she got back to bed. Eleanor giggled unmercifully.
“Better stay put, Poll, till morning. Then we’ll practice before we show off.”
All that night the waves which had caused the pitching and rolling of the vessel kept up a heavy under-swell that made the yacht shudder and tremble uncertainly. At times it seemed as if the great gaping rollers wished to gulp the small craft in one swallow. But inside the comfortable rooms of the yacht, the uncomfortable passengers waited patiently for the heavy seas to quiet down again.
After leaving his daughter’s room, Mr. Dalken went forward to find the First Mate who had said he had graduated from a medical college out west. Having found the man, Mr. Dalken called him by his title of doctor.
“I have a plan to suggest, Dr. Braxton, which ought to cure all our seasick passengers. I want you to visit each one in a professional way and diagnose their conditions. Do not find any one suffering from sea sickness, but find some light cause for their indisposition and be sure and tell them so. I have an idea that the test of changing their minds about the cause of their being in bed will change their physical conditions, too. Will you do this for me? Take your medicine chest and leave each one some melted licorice in water. Tell them to take a tablespoonful of this wonderful tonic every hour – then we’ll see.”
“Why, Mr. Dalken, you would not have me tell these poor people that they are not ill with sea sickness, would you? It would be unkind of us to do that,” objected the poor young man.
“Now listen, my good friend. I’ve heard said, over and over again, that seasickness is mostly due to fear and concern over one’s having it. The pneumogastric nerve acts with the mental condition of the patient – we all know that. And this nerve, it is claimed, is directly affected in a manner to make the ill one think he cannot move, or get up, or eat. I want to cure my friends in a hurry, and I want you to help me cure them. That is real kindness – not unkindness.”
The interested young man asked what more would be required of him, and Mr. Dalken explained. In a short time thereafter, Dr. Braxton called upon his first patient. It happened to be Mr. Fabian.
After using all the usual methods of taking pulse, looking at the tongue, feeling of the heart, and taking the temperature, the young physician said:
“I’m happy to say, Mr. Fabian, that this attack is not a case of sea-sickness at all, but acute comatose condition of the digestive glands. You might have experienced the same illness had you been at home. Now I shall leave you this wonderful remedy to take every hour, and in the morning you will feel fine. Three doses of this ought to put you right as a trivet.”
Mr. Fabian was so glad to hear he had not had an attack of sea-sickness that he thanked the doctor and said he felt sure he would be around in the morning.
Having visited all the sick-abed members of Mr. Dalken’s party, and found one suffering from a slight attack of gastritis, another with rheumatic neurosis of the abdomen, and many other queer complaints that have never been heard of before or since that night, and then having left the great cure-all medicine for each and every one stricken, the willing physician went to report to Mr. Dalken.
CHAPTER IV – THE SECOND DAY OUT
Mr. Dalken enjoyed the joke immensely and hoped it would benefit his friends as he had planned it should. During the night the sea calmed so that by dawn it presented a beautiful surface of small playful waves. Consequently the yacht danced over the waters like a happy nautilus, but the tossing had ceased.
During the night the vessel had made wonderful headway and by breakfast time the Captain said they were opposite Old Point Comfort. The information gave rise to puns, because every member in the party except Elizabeth, presented himself at the table, ready for a hearty meal, but one and all maintained that their improvement was due to Old Point Comfort.
Upon comparing notes of their illnesses, and the dark brown medicine given by the young doctor, the patients found they had been given diluted licorice; Mr. Dalken had visited his daughter several times during the night, and again in the morning, but she complained that he disturbed her rest every time he came in. Therefore he decided not to annoy her until she felt better.
When asked by Mrs. Courtney whether it would be advisable to take a light breakfast to Elizabeth and attend her, Mr. Dalken replied: “Better leave her absolutely alone for a short time. She may recover sooner.”
In spite of ravenous appetites and the temptation of the dainty dishes sent to the breakfast table, the mariners, so recently recovering from the effects of the wild waves of the night before, found a sudden relapse of well remembered conditions the moment any food touched their tongue and palate. Thus the alluring breakfast had to be sent back to the kitchen with regrets.
That day the convalescents, as Mr. Dalken persisted in calling his guests, preferred to keep quiet, amusing themselves with the periodicals liberally provided in the lounging room, or chatting on deck and watching the curling waves against the speeding yacht.
Late in the afternoon, just before tea was served on deck, Elizabeth came from her room, looking very pathetic in spite of the touch of rouge on her cheeks, and color on her lips. Mr. Dalken sprang up to assist her to a chair, but she refused his support with an impatient toss of her head. Consequently, the vessel giving a sudden graceful curve, Elizabeth was thrown head first into Mr. Ashby’s arms.
“My! It’s not often that an old man has such an armful of loveliness tossed him by the generous sea,” laughed Mr. Ashby, as he assisted Elizabeth to her feet. He understood the way to calm a young woman’s chagrin, and compliment her at the same time.
Elizabeth had not heard of the graduate physician’s visits to the other sea sick guests, nor of the dark brown medicine he had prescribed in obedience to Mr. Dalken’s orders. Hence she believed she had been the one who received all the medical attentions and the dose.
“Dear me, I have had such an attack of cerebral neuritis,” commenced she, sighing to attract sympathy. “Unfortunately, this attack came over me from the unusual excitement due to preparing for this cruise. The doctor says I need more rest and a nerve tonic. I never call in such inexperienced doctors at home, but this one seems to know exactly what to do in my case.”
Elizabeth glanced at Mrs. Courtney, then at her father, in order to assure herself that they had comprehended what she had said. Mrs. Courtney seemed to be politely intent upon the girl’s words, and Mr. Dalken smiled lovingly at his daughter. Elizabeth failed to read any suspicion of amusement in their expressions, so she proceeded.
“You know, I never am sea-sick —never! And I wondered if the rest of you would think that my indisposition might be an attack of the unpleasant sensations which generally prostrate inexperienced seafarers. It was rather disconcerting that this attack of nervous trouble should return the first day out at sea.” Elizabeth now glanced around at the faces about her. She felt a bit piqued at the hardly controlled expressions of one or two of them.
Eleanor, with her blunt honesty and impatience with any form of subterfuge, blurted out unexpectedly: “I, too, was indisposed, Elizabeth; but the wise young doctor informed me that I never could be sea-sick – my trouble was eating too much candy, and the volume of water which was playing fast and loose with the yacht. He gave me this dark brown medicine to take, and assured me that the moment the gale subsided my nausea would disappear.”
As Eleanor spoke she took a small bottle from her bag and held it out in plain view of Elizabeth and the others in the amused circle of friends.
Elizabeth looked in dismay, recognized the color of the medicine, then glanced about at the smiling faces of those who also had taken the doctor’s medicine.
“Is this a joke you wish to play on me?” demanded she.
“It wasn’t a joke last night, I can tell you, Elizabeth,” exclaimed Polly, bringing her vial to view and shaking her head deploringly as she studied the brown liquid. “If every one on this ship felt as I did, they’d never have thought of a doctor or medicine, let alone any licorice water.”
The laugh caused by Polly’s admission failed to soothe Elizabeth. She was furious, but managed to demand: “Who of this group was ill?” In this manner she thought to detect the ones who had taken such amusement in fooling their friends.
One after another in the circle admitted the truth, but Mrs. Courtney confessed to having spent her evening with Polly and Eleanor. That left Mr. Dalken alone. He smiled as he said: “Well, I am forced to confess that I am the guilty one. I prescribed the doctor and his doses.”
As Elizabeth could not very well denounce her father for having played this practical joke on his friends as well as on herself, she merely tossed her head and turned her back upon him. He smiled to himself, then caught Polly’s glance which told him she understood the cause of his daughter’s annoyance. Also he read a sympathy in her heart for the misunderstanding so deliberately displayed by the girl.
Fortunately for the situation the boy now came forward and began preparations to serve tea. Having arranged the wicker table in front of Mrs. Courtney, without a look or word to Mrs. Fabian or Mrs. Ashby who were in the circle, he left again to fetch the tea service. Directly behind the well-bred young servant came an uncouth Scandinavian youth carrying a heavy tray of viands.
Mr. Dalken had not seen nor had anything to do with engaging the individuals in the crew on his yacht, as that was part of his Captain’s work. And up to this moment Mr. Dalken had never seen this great overgrown Swede. But the blonde giant had no intentions of being ignored, as he soon made plain.
He planked his tray forcibly upon the table beside the tea service wagon, and then turned to Mr. Dalken. No introduction was needed for him. He was too disturbed to consider aught but his injured feelings.
“Dot tea what yun Shink meks me fer supper, Oi not drink. Oi tek cuffee er Oi go home!” exclaimed he with ire.
Several of the voyagers had been quietly admiring the low-lying banks of soft cirrus clouds, and some had been engaged in absent-mindedly watching the man servant arrange the tea table, when the Swede exploded his complaint in a loud thunderous tone.
Mr. Dalken gave a start. He was too surprised at the unlooked for complaint to control the nervous action. He frowned at the ponderous youth, then waved him away. Turning to the other man he told him to serve; then he followed the wondering Swede down the promenade deck to the culinary quarters.
As Mr. Dalken disappeared to view, Elizabeth smiled a tantalizing smile and remarked, to no one in particular: “Dear me! I cannot understand why Daddy engages such inexperienced servants. He always did neglect important things.”
An ominous silence followed this information from Elizabeth, then Mr. Ashby gayly proposed a diversion which interested his friends till Mr. Dalken rejoined the group.
Not having heard his daughter’s criticism Mr. Dalken reseated himself and smiled as he began: “I investigated the cause of that young chap’s complaint, because I could not very well consent to his walking back home – not on the water, you know. And I discovered a most amusing affair back in the kitchen. Want to hear the tale?”
Every one but Elizabeth signified eagerly a desire to hear the story. She pretended indifference to her father and his experience in the kitchen. But he did not see her face and laughingly began his narrative.
“I learned that the Chef treats the crew with unusual consideration by serving the same quality tea that we drink. That poor Scandinavian lad had never before sailed with a decent crew, it seems. In the past he has been the butt for all the deep-sea sailors who sailed from their Swedish ports on tramp steamers or fishing boats.
“Captain Blake tells me that Jansen is a fine youth and very conscientious, but too blunt for his own good. In his past experiences he has only had the cheapest black coffee served, or a weak sort of bitter drink faintly colored that went by the name of tea. The Captain explained to me that such tea is made from used tea-leaves which are dried by enterprising men and stained with chemicals to produce a brown liquid with a strong flavor. Naturally, he said, such second-hand tea leaves are not any too clean. The driers do not spend time on seeing to it that the leaves are kept free from vermin and dirt. Hence it often happens that sailors find unexpected dregs mixed with their tea leaves in the bottom of the pannikins in which they receive their measure of so-called tea.”
As Mr. Dalken reached this part of his story Elizabeth gave a shudder and exclaimed in a horror-stricken tone: “Oh, Daddy! How can you be so ordinary as to speak of such horrible things? Any one would think you were just common. What does it matter to us whether these plebeian seamen drink tea or salt water, as long as we are not subjected to their coarse modes of living?”
Mr. Dalken turned to stare at Elizabeth, and his frown should have warned her of further pursuing such a line of condemnation. But Elizabeth was bent on punishing her father for having made her – so she deemed it – the laughing stock of his friends by sending in a doctor who gave her licorice water to cure a serious attack of cerebral neuritis, though Elizabeth was not quite sure what such a dreadful disease was.
“You have forgotten, I suppose, because of the recent years of your not associating with the best society, that subjects of food are not considered permissible. But the very idea of any one in my class of friends, daring to broach a story such as you just began – all about vermin – would have instantly caused him to be excluded from us,” concluded she.
Polly stared unbelievingly at the girl who dared say such things to a father; and the others in the group who considered themselves intimate friends of Mr. Dalken’s, could not but interpret the insolent girl’s speech as personal affronts: had they not been her father’s closest associates for the past few years? The society which she daringly condemned as not being good for him?
What may have been the result of this indiscreet speech from Elizabeth could not be said, but Mrs. Courtney, in her wisdom, instantly rose to the call for immediate action of some sort. The Captain had just announced a “change of watch on board.” She caught at the idea.
“Oh, oh! Mr. Dalken! The Captain is about to change the watch. Cannot you take us there and explain how this interesting act is accomplished?” As she spoke the wily woman sprang from her chair, and took two or three eager steps in the direction of the group of sailors now appearing before the Captain.
Instantly all the other members in the circle seated at the tea table sprang up, only too thankful to catch at a straw by which to save the situation. Mr. Dalken also rose and led the way down the promenade deck in the direction of the Captain. Elizabeth remained in her chair, shrugging her shoulders in a decidedly French manner.
Having heard the Captain explain how changes of watch were made on vessels, the group of friends eagerly accepted his offer to conduct them over the entire yacht. They were introduced to the chef who had been called the “Shink” by the Swedish boy. They met and felt an interest in the overgrown, inexperienced youth of fifteen who seemed like a hearty man of twenty-five. He grinned sheepishly when Polly selected him to address her admiration of his qualities of seamanship – as the Captain had explained it.
Then they were introduced to the capable young Belgian waiter, Johann, who was always well-bred and attentive.
Shink, the Chinese cook, felt so nattered by the visit of many pretty women to his domain that his rather incomprehensible manner of speaking English became choked and jumbled. Such a medley of consonants and vowels as he poured forth in a continuous flood by his twisting tongue, caused his visitors to gasp in breathless amazement. In his endeavors to show “Honorable Boss Fren’s” all the courtesy due their Most Honorable Selves, Shink bowed and chattered, even after the Most Honorable Party had gone.
Unfortunately for the Oriental’s peace of mind, and the welfare of the Swede the latter had stepped outside the kitchen to make more room for the visitors. As the group of Mr. Dalken’s guests were leaving the kitchen by another door from that entered by them, a great crash of china was heard by the excitable Shink. He leaped to the door and discovered the cause. Poor Wooden-top, as the Swedish lad was nicknamed by his associates, in turning to gaze after the receding form of Polly to whom his heart was forever lost, had stubbed his toe against the raised door sill. The heavy tray of dishes which he had been carrying aloft went flying through the door to smash as best suited each individual dish against the opposite wall.
Elizabeth was not to be seen when the inspecting party returned to the lounging place on deck. But it was soon ascertained that she had retired to her own room after her friends had left her.
