"Well, shall we go on somewhere else?" Ruth suggested.
And he paid yet again. He paid and smiled, he who had meant to be themasterful male, he who deemed himself always equal to a crisis. But inthis crisis he was helpless.
They set off down the pier, brilliant in the brilliant crowd. Everybodywas talking of wrecks and lifeboats. The new lifeboat had done nothing,having been forestalled by the Prestatyn boat; but Llandudno wasapparently very proud of its brave old worn-out lifeboat which hadbrought ashore the entire crew of the _Hjalmar_, without casualty, in aterrific hurricane.
"Run along, child," said Ruth to Nellie, "while uncle and auntie talk toeach other for a minute."
Nellie stared, blushed, and walked forward in confusion. She wasstartled. And Denry was equally startled. Never before had Ruth sobrazenly hinted that lovers must be left alone at intervals. In justiceto her it must be said that she was a mirror for all the proprieties.Denry had even reproached her, in his heart, for not sufficientlyshowing her desire for his exclusive society. He wondered, now, whatwas to be the next revelation of her surprising character.
"I had our bill this morning," said Ruth.
She leaned gracefully on the handle of her sunshade, and they bothstared at the sea. She was very elegant, with an aristocratic air. Thebill, as she mentioned it, seemed a very negligible trifle.Nevertheless, Denry's heart quaked.
"Oh!" he said. "Did you pay it?"
"Yes," said she. "The landlady wanted the money, she told me. SoNellie gave me her share, and I paid it at once."
"Oh!" said Denry.
There was a silence. Denry felt as though he were defending a castle,or as though he were in a dark room and somebody was calling him,calling him, and he was pretending not to be there and holding hisbreath.
"But I 'd hardly enough money left," said Ruth. "The fact is, Nellieand I spent such a lot yesterday and the day before.... You 've no ideahow money goes!"
"Haven't I?" said Denry. But not to her--only to his own heart.
To her he said nothing.
"I suppose we shall have to go back home," she ventured lightly. "Onecan't run into debt here. They 'd claim your luggage."
"What a pity!" said Denry sadly.
Just those few words--and the interesting part of the interview wasover! All that followed counted not in the least. She had meant toinduce him to offer to defray the whole of her expenses in Llandudno--nodoubt in the form of a loan; and she had failed. She had intended himto repair the disaster caused by her chronic extravagance. And he hadonly said, "What a pity!"
"Yes, it is!" she agreed bravely, and with a finer disdain than ever ofpetty financial troubles. "Still, it can't be helped."
"No, I suppose not," said Denry.
There was undoubtedly something fine about Ruth. In that moment she hadit in her to kill Denry with a bodkin. But she merely smiled. Thesituation was terribly strained, past all Denry's previous conceptionsof a strained situation; but she deviated with superlative _sang-froid_into frothy small-talk. A proud and an unconquerable woman! After all,what were men for, if not to pay?
"I think I shall go home to-night," she said, after the excursion intoprattle.
"I 'm sorry," said Denry.
He was not coming out of his castle.
At that moment a hand touched his shoulder. It was the hand of Cregeen,the owner of the old lifeboat.
"Mister!" said Cregeen, too absorbed in his own welfare to notice Ruth."It's now or never! Five-and-twenty 'll buy the _Fleetwing_, if ten 'spaid down this mornun."
And Denry replied boldly:
"You shall have it in an hour. Where shall you be?"
"I 'll be in John's cabin, under the pier," said Cregeen, "where yefound me this mornun."
"Right!" said Denry.
If Ruth had not been caracoling on her absurdly high horse, she wouldhave had the truth out of Denry in a moment concerning these earlymorning interviews and mysterious transactions in shipping. But fromthat height she could not deign to be curious. And so she said naught.Denry had passed the whole morning since breakfast and had uttered noword of preprandial encounters with mariners, though he had talked a lotabout his article for the _Signal_ and of how he had risen betimes inorder to despatch it by the first train.
And as Ruth showed no curiosity, Denry behaved on the assumption thatshe felt none. And the situation grew even more strained.
As they walked down the pier towards the beach, at the dinner-hour, Ruthbowed to a dandiacal man who obsequiously saluted her.
"Who 's that?" asked Denry instinctively.
"It's a gentleman that I was once engaged to," answered Ruth with cold,brief politeness.
Denry did not like this.
The situation almost creaked under the complicated stresses to which itwas subject. And the wonder was that it did not fly to pieces longbefore evening.
VI
The pride of the principal actors being now engaged, each person wascompelled to carry out the intentions which he had expressed either inwords or tacitly. Denry's silence had announced more efficiently thanany words that he would under no inducement emerge from his castle.Ruth had stated plainly that there was nothing for it but to go home atonce, that very night. Hence she arranged to go home, and hence Denryrefrained from interfering with her arrangements. Ruth was lugubriousunder a mask of gaiety; Nellie was lugubrious under no mask whatever.Nellie was merely the puppet of these betrothed players, her elders.She admired Ruth and she admired Denry, and between them they werespoiling the little thing's holiday for their own adult purposes.Nellie knew that dreadful occurrences were in the air--occurrencescompared to which the storm at sea was a storm in a teacup. She knewpartly because Ruth had been so queerly polite, and partly because theyhad come separately to St. Asaph's Road and had not spent the entireafternoon together.
So quickly do great events loom up and happen that at six o'clock theyhad had tea and were on their way afoot to the station. The odd man ofNo. 26, St. Asaph's Road had preceded them with the luggage. All therest of Llandudno was joyously strolling home to its half-past six hightea--grand people to whom weekly bills were as dust and who were in aposition to stop in Llandudno for ever and ever, if they chose! AndRuth and Nellie were conscious of the shame which always afflicts thosewhom necessity forces to the railway station of a pleasure resort in themiddle of the season. They saw omnibuses loaded with luggage and jollysouls who were actually _coming_, whose holiday had not yet properlycommenced. And this spectacle added to their humiliation and theirdisgust. They genuinely felt that they belonged to the lower orders.
Ruth, for the sake of effect, joked on the most solemn subjects. Sheeven referred with giggling laughter to the fact that she had borrowedfrom Nellie in order to discharge her liabilities for the finaltwenty-four hours at the boarding-house. Giggling laughter beingcontagious, as they were walking side by side close together, they alllaughed. And each one secretly thought how ridiculous was suchbehaviour and how it failed to reach the standard of true worldliness.
Then, nearer the station, some sprightly caprice prompted Denry to raisehis hat to two young women who were crossing the road in front of them.Neither of the two young women responded to the homage.
"Who are they?" asked Ruth, and the words were out of her mouth beforeshe could remind herself that curiosity was beneath her.
"It's a young lady I was once engaged to," said Denry.
"Which one?" asked the ninny, Nellie, astounded.
"I forget," said Denry.
He considered this to be one of his greatest retorts--not to Nellie, butto Ruth. Nellie naturally did not appreciate its loveliness. But Ruthdid. There was no facet of that retort that escaped Ruth's criticalnotice.
At length they arrived at the station, quite a quarter of an hour beforethe train was due, and half an hour before it came in.
Denry tipped the odd man for the transport of the luggage.
&nbs
p; "Sure it's all there?" he asked the girls, embracing both of them in hisgaze.
"Yes," said Ruth, "but where 's yours?"
"Oh!" he said. "I 'm not going to-night. I 've got some business toattend to here. I thought you understood. I expect you 'll be allright, you two together."
After a moment, Ruth said brightly, "Oh, yes! I was quite forgettingabout your business." Which was completely untrue, since she knewnothing of his business, and he had assuredly not informed her that hewould not return with them.
But Ruth was being very brave, haughty, and queen-like, and for this theprecise truth must sometimes be abandoned. The most precious thing inthe world to Ruth was her dignity--and who can blame her? She meant tokeep it at no matter what costs.
In a few minutes the bookstall on the platform attracted them asinevitably as a prone horse attracts a crowd. Other people were nearthe bookstall, and as these people were obviously leaving Llandudno,Ruth and Nellie felt a certain solace. The social outlook seemedbrighter for them. Denry bought one or two penny papers, and then thenewsboy began to paste up the contents poster of the _StaffordshireSignal_, which had just arrived. And on this poster, very prominent,were the words: "The Great Storm in North Wales. Special DescriptiveReport." Denry snatched up one of the green papers and opened it, andon the first column of the news page saw his wondrous description,including the word "Rembrandtesque." "Graphic account by a Bursleygentleman of the scene at Llandudno," said the sub-title. And thearticle was introduced by the phrase, "We are indebted to Mr. E. H.Machin, a prominent figure in Bursley," etc.
It was like a miracle. Do what he would, Denry could not stop his facefrom glowing.
With false calm he gave the paper to Ruth. Her calmness in receiving itupset him.
"We 'll read it in the train," she said primly, and started to talkabout something else. And she became most agreeable and companionable.
Mixed up with papers and sixpenny novels on the bookstall were a numberof souvenirs of Llandudno--paper-knives, pens, paper-weights,watch-cases, pen-cases, all in light wood or glass, and ornamented withcoloured views of Llandudno, and also the word "Llandudno" in largeGerman capitals, so that mistakes might not arise. Ruth remembered thatshe had even intended to buy a crystal paper-weight with a view of theGreat Orme at the bottom. The bookstall clerk had several crystalpaper-weights with views of the pier, the Hotel Majestic, the Esplanade,the Happy Valley, but none with a view of the Great Orme. He had alsopaper-knives and watch-cases with a view of the Great Orme. But Ruthwanted a combination of paper-weight and Great Orme, and nothing elsewould satisfy her. She was like that. The clerk admitted that such acombination existed, but he was sold "out of it."
"Could n't you get one and send it to me?" said Ruth.
And Denry saw anew that she was incurable.
"Oh, yes, miss," said the clerk. "Certainly, miss. To-morrow atlatest!" And he pulled out a book. "What name?"
Ruth looked at Denry, as women do look on such occasions.
"Rothschild," said Denry.
It may seem perhaps strange that that single word ended theirengagement. But it did. She could not tolerate a rebuke. She walkedaway, flushing. The bookstall clerk received no order. Several personsin the vicinity dimly perceived that a domestic scene had occurred, in aflash, under their noses, on a platform of a railway station. Nelliewas speedily aware that something very serious had happened, for thetrain took them off without Ruth speaking a syllable to Denry, thoughDenry raised his hat and was almost effusive.
The next afternoon Denry received by post a ring in a box. "I will notsubmit to insult," ran the brief letter.
"I only said 'Rothschild'!" Denry murmured to himself. "Can't a fellowsay 'Rothschild'?"
But secretly he was proud of himself.
CHAPTER V. THE MERCANTILE MARINE
I
The decisive scene, henceforward historic, occurred in the shanty knownas "John's cabin"--John being the unacknowledged leader of the'longshore population--under the tail of Llandudno pier. The cabin,festooned with cordage, was lighted by an oil-lamp of a primitive model,and round the orange case on which the lamp was balanced sat Denry,Cregeen, the owner of the lifeboat, and John himself (to give, as itwere, a semi-official character to whatever was afoot).
"Well, here you are," said Denry, and handed to Cregeen a piece ofpaper.
"What's this, I 'm asking ye," said Cregeen, taking the paper in hislarge fingers and peering at it as though it had been a papyrus.
But he knew quite well what it was. It was a check for twenty-fivepounds. What he did not know was that, with the ten pounds paid in cashearlier in the day, it represented a very large part indeed of such ofDenry's savings as had survived his engagement to Ruth Earp. Cregeentook a pen as though it had been a match-end and wrote a receipt. Then,after finding a stamp in a pocket of his waistcoat under his jersey, heput it in his mouth and lost it there for a long time. Finally Denrygot the receipt, certifying that he was the owner of the lifeboatformerly known as _Llandudno_, but momentarily without a name, togetherwith all her gear and sails.
"Are ye going to live in her?" the rather curt John enquired.
"Not in her. On her," said Denry.
And he went out on to the sand and shingle, leaving John and Cregeen tocomplete the sale to Cregeen of the _Fleetwing_, a small cutterspecially designed to take twelve persons forth for "a pleasant sail inthe bay." If Cregeen had not had a fancy for the _Fleetwing_ and aperfect lack of the money to buy her, Denry might never have been ableto induce him to sell the lifeboat.
Under another portion of the pier Denry met a sailor with a long whitebeard, the aged Simeon, who had been one of the crew that rescued the_Hjalmar_, but whom his colleagues appeared to regard rather as anornament than as a motive force.
"It's all right," said Denry.
And Simeon, in silence, nodded his head slowly several times.
"I shall give you thirty shillings for the week," said Denry.
And that venerable head oscillated again in the moon-lit gloom androcked gradually to a standstill.
Presently the head said, in shrill, slow tones:
"I 've seen three o' them Norwegian chaps. Two of 'em can no more speakEnglish than a babe unborn; no, nor understand what ye say to 'em,though I fair bawled in their ear-holes."
"So much the better," said Denry.
"I showed 'em that sovereign," said the bearded head, wagging again.
"Well," said Denry, "you won't forget. Six o'clock to-morrow morning."
"Ye 'd better say five," the head suggested. "Quieter like!"
"Five, then," Denry agreed.
And he departed to St. Asaph's Road burdened with a tremendous thought.
The thought was:
"I 've gone and done it this time!"
Now that the transaction was accomplished and could not be undone, headmitted to himself that he had never been more mad. He could scarcelycomprehend what had led him to do that which he had done. But heobscurely imagined that his caprice for the possession of sea-goingcraft must somehow be the result of his singular adventure with thepantechnicon in the canal at Bursley.
He was so preoccupied with material interests as to be capable offorgetting, for a quarter of an hour at a stretch, that in all essentialrespects his life was wrecked, and that he had nothing to hope for savehollow worldly success. He knew that Ruth would return the ring. Hecould almost see the postman holding the little cardboard cube whichwould contain the rendered ring. He had loved, and loved tragically.(That was how he put it--in his unspoken thoughts; but the truth wasmerely that he had loved something too expensive.) Now the dream wasdone. And a man of disillusion walked along the Parade towards St.Asaph's Road among revellers, a man with a past, a man who had probedwomen, a man who had nothing to learn about sex. And amid all thetragedy of his heart, and all his apprehensions concerning hollowworldly success, little thoughts of absurd
unimportance kept runningabout like clockwork mice in his head. Such as that it would be a bitof a bore to have to tell people at Bursley that his engagement, whichtruly had thrilled the town, was broken off. Humiliating, that! And,after all, Ruth was a glittering gem among women. Was there anothergirl in Bursley so smart, so effective, so truly ornate?
Then he comforted himself with the reflection, "I 'm certainly the onlyman that ever put an end to an engagement by just saying 'Rothschild'."This was probably true. But it did not help him to sleep.
II
The next morning at 5:20 the youthful sun was shining on the choppywater of the Irish Sea, just off the Little Orme, to the west ofLlandudno Bay. Oscillating on the uneasy waves was Denry's lifeboat,manned by the nodding bearded head, three ordinary British longshoremen,a Norwegian who could speak English of two syllables, and two otherNorwegians who by a strange neglect of education could speak nothing butNorwegian.
Close under the headland, near a morsel of beach, lay the remains of the_Hjalmar_, in an attitude of repose. It was as if the _Hjalmar_, aftera long struggle, had lain down like a cab-horse and said to the tempest,"Do what you like, now!"
"Yes," the venerable head was piping, "Us can come out comfortable intwenty minutes, unless the tide be setting east strong. And as forgetting back, it 'll be the same, other way round, if ye understand me."
There could be no question that Simeon had come out comfortable. But hewas the coxswain. The rowers seemed to be aware that the boat was vastand beamy.