CHAPTER V
THE CALL OF THE UNKNOWN
The sea breeze had fallen, and the air was hot and still. A full moonrested low in the eastern sky, and against its light the tops of theroyal palms cut in feathery silhouette. Evelyn was sitting in the hotelgarden with Reginald Gore. A dusky rose arbor hid them from the veranda,where a number of the guests had gathered, but Evelyn imagined that oneor two of the women knew where she was and envied her. This once wouldhave afforded her some satisfaction, but it did not matter now, andalthough the spot seemed made for confidential talk, she listenedquietly to the rollers breaking on the beach. The roar of the surf had adisturbing effect; she felt that it called, urging her to follow herstar and launch out on the deep. Her companion was silent, and shewondered what he was thinking about, or if, as seemed more likely, hismind was vacant. She found him irritating to-night.
Gore was the finished product of a luxurious age: well-bred,well-taught, and tastefully dressed. His father had made a fortune outof railroad stock, and although Reginald had not the ability to increaseit, he spent it with prudence. He had a good figure, and a pleasantface, but Evelyn suspected that his highest ambition was to loungethrough life gracefully.
Evelyn knew her mother's plans regarding him, and had, to some extent,fallen in with them. Reggie had much that she valued to offer, but shenow and then found him tiresome. He stood for the luxurious, but, in asense, artificial life, with which she was growing dissatisfied. Shefelt that she wanted stirring, and must get into touch with the realthings.
"You're not talkative," she remarked, watching the lights of the_Enchantress_ that swung and blinked with the tossing swell.
"No," he agreed good-humoredly. "Doesn't seem to be much to talk about."
There was silence for a few moments; then Evelyn put into words a trainof thoughts that was forming indistinctly in her mind.
"You have never done anything very strenuous in life. You have had allthe pleasure money can provide one. Are you content?"
"On the whole, yes. Aren't you?"
"No," said Evelyn thoughtfully. "I believe I haven't really been contentfor a long time, but I didn't know it. The mind can be doped, but theeffect wears off and you feel rather startled when you come toyourself."
Gore nodded.
"I know! Doesn't last, but it's disturbing. When I feel like that, Itake a soothing drink."
Evelyn laughed, for his answer was characteristic. He understood, tosome extent, but she did not expect him to sympathize with therestlessness that had seized her. Reggie would never do anything rash orunconventional. Hitherto she had approved his caution. She had enjoyedthe comfortable security of her station, had shared her mother'sambitions, and looked upon marriage as a means of rising in the socialscale. Her adventurous temperament had found some scope in excitingsports and in an occasional flirtation that she did not carry far; butshe was now beginning to feel that life had strange and wonderful thingsto offer those who had the courage to seize them. She had neverexperienced passion--perhaps because her training had taught her todread it; but her imagination was now awake.
Her visit to the _Enchantress_ had perhaps had something to do withthese disturbing feelings, but not, she argued, because she wassentimentally attracted by her rescuer. It was the mystery in whichGrahame's plans were wrapped that was interesting. He was obviously theleader of the party and about to engage in some rash adventure on seasthe buccaneers had sailed. This, of course, was nothing to her; butthinking of him led her to wonder whether she might not miss much byclinging too cautiously to what she knew was safe.
With a soft laugh she turned to Gore.
"Tell me about the dance they're getting up. I hear you are one of thestewards," she said.
It was a congenial topic, and as she listened to her companion's talkEvelyn felt that she was being drawn back to secure, familiar ground.
Cliffe, in the meanwhile, had come out in search of her and, seeing howshe was engaged, had strolled into the hotel bar. A tall, big-boned man,dressed in blue serge with brass buttons on his jacket, was talking atlarge, and Cliffe, stopping to listen, thought the tales he told withdry Scottish humor were good.
"You are the engineer who mended the gaff of my daughter's boat," Cliffesaid. "I must thank you for that; it was a first-rate job."
"It might have been worse," Macallister modestly replied. "Are ye amechanic then?"
"No; but I know good work when I see it."
"I'm thinking that's a gift, though ye may not use it much. It's no'good work the world's looking for."
"True," agreed Cliffe; "perhaps we're too keen on what will pay."
"Ye mean what will pay the first user. An honest job is bound to paysomebody in the end."
"Well, I guess that's so. You're a philosopher."
Macallister grinned.
"I have been called worse names, and maybe with some cause. Consistencygets monotonous. It's better to be a bit of everything, as the humortakes ye."
"What kind of engines has your boat?" Cliffe asked. He was more at homewhen talking practical matters.
"As fine a set o' triples as I've clapped my eyes upon, though they havebeen shamefully neglectit."
"And what speed can you get out of her?"
"A matter o' coal," Macallister answered with a twinkle. "A seven-knotbat will suit our purse best."
Cliffe saw that further questions on this point would be injudicious,but the man interested him, and he noted the flag on his buttons.
"Well," he said, "the _Enchantress_ must be a change from the liners youhave sailed in."
"I find that. But there's aye some compensation. I have tools a man canwork with, and oil that will keep her running smooth. Ye'll maybe kenthere's a difference in engine stores."
"I've heard my manufacturing friends say something of the kind."
Cliffe ordered refreshment, and quietly studied his companion. The manhad not the reserve he associated with the Scot, but a dash and areckless humor, which are, nevertheless, essentially Scottish too.Cliffe wondered curiously what enterprise he and his companions wereengaged upon, but he did not think Macallister would tell him. If theothers were like this fellow, he imagined that they would carry outtheir plans, for he read resolution as well as daring in the Scot'scharacter; besides, he had been favorably impressed by Grahame.
After some further talk, Macallister left, and Cliffe joined his wifeand daughter.
The next morning, Evelyn, getting up before most of the other guests,went out on the balcony in front of her room and looked across the bay.The sun was not yet hot, and a fresh breeze flecked the blue water withfeathery streaks of white, while the wet beach glistened dazzlingly.There was a refreshing, salty smell, and for a few minutes the girlenjoyed the grateful coolness; then she felt that something was missingfrom the scene, and noticed that the _Enchantress_ had vanished. Theadventurers had sailed in the night. On the whole she was conscious ofrelief. They had gone and she could now get rid of the restlessness thattheir presence had caused. After all, there was peril in the longing forchange; it was wiser to be satisfied with the security and solid comfortwhich surrounded her.
Looking down at a footstep, she saw Gore strolling about the lawn,faultlessly dressed in light flannel, with a Panama hat. There was nota crease in his clothes that was out of place; the color scheme wasexcellent--even his necktie was exactly the right shade. He stood forall her mother had taught her to value: wealth, leisure, and cultivatedtaste. Reggie was a man of her own kind; she had nothing in common withthe bronzed, tar-stained Grahame, whose hawk-like look had for themoment stirred her imagination.
"You look like the morning," Gore called up to her. "Won't you come downand walk to the beach? The sun and breeze are delightful, and we'll havethem all to ourselves."
Evelyn noticed the hint of intimacy, but it did not jar upon her mood,and she smiled as she answered that she would join him.
A few minutes later, they walked along the hard, white sand, breathingthe keen freshness o
f the spray.
"What made you get up so soon?" Evelyn asked.
"It's not hard to guess. I was waiting for my opportunity. You're in thehabit of rising in good time."
"Well," she said with a bantering air, "I think waiting foropportunities is a habit of yours. Of course, you have some excuse forthis."
Gore looked puzzled for a moment and then laughed.
"I see what you mean. As a rule, the opportunities come to me."
"Don't they? I wonder whether you're much happier than the men who haveto make, or look for, them."
"I can't say, because I haven't tried that plan. I can't see why Ishould look for anything, when I don't have to. Anyway, I guess I'm apretty cheerful person and easy to get on with. It's the striverswho're always getting after something out of reach that give you jars."
"You're certainly not a striver," Evelyn agreed. "However, you seem tohave all a man could want."
"Not quite," he answered. "I'll confess that I'm not satisfied yet, butI try to make the most of the good things that come along--and I'm gladI got up early. It's a glorious morning!"
Evelyn understood. Reggie was not precipitate and feared a rebuff. Shebelieved that she could have him when she liked, but he would look forsome tactful sign of her approval before venturing too far. The troublewas that she did not know if she wanted him.
She changed the subject, and they paced the beach, engaged ingood-humored banter, until the breakfast gong called them back to thehotel.
In the afternoon, however, Evelyn's mood changed again. The breeze diedaway and it was very hot. Everybody was languid, and she found herfriends dull. Although Gore tried to be amusing, his conversation wasunsatisfactory; and the girls about the hotel seemed more frivolous andshallow than usual. None of these people ever did anything really worthwhile! Evelyn did not know what she wished to do, but she felt that thelife she led was unbearably stale.
When dark fell and the deep rumble of the surf filled the air, she satwith her father in a quiet corner of the garden.
"Didn't you say you might make a short business trip to the WestIndies?" she asked him.
"Yes; I may have to spend a week in Havana."
"Then I wish you would take me."
"It might be arranged," said Cliffe. He seldom refused her anything."Your mother wouldn't come, but she has plenty of engagements at home.Why do you want to go?"
Evelyn found this hard to answer, but she tried to formulate herthoughts.
"Cuba is, of course, a new country to me, and I suppose we all feel amysterious attraction toward what is strange. Had you never a longingfor something different, something out of the usual run?"
"I had when I was young."
"But you don't feel it now?"
"One learns to keep such fancies in their place when business demandsit," Cliffe answered with a dry smile. "I can remember times when Iwanted to go off camping in the Canadian Rockies and join a canoe tripon Labrador rivers. Now and then in the hot weather the traffic in themarkets and the dusty offices make me tired. I'll confess that I've feltthe snow-peaks and the rapids call."
"We went to Banff once," said Evelyn. "It was very nice."
"But not the real thing! You saw the high peaks from the hotel gardenand the passes from an observation car. Then we made one or twoexcursions with pack-horses, guides, and people like ourselves, where itwas quite safe to go. That was as much as your mother could stand for.She'd no sympathy with my hankering after the lone trail."
Evelyn could see his face in the moonlight, and she gave him a quicklook. Her father, it seemed, had feelings she had never suspected inhim.
"But if you like the mountains, couldn't you enjoy them now?"
"No," he said, rather grimly. "The grip of my business grows tighter allthe time. It costs a good deal to live as we do, and I must keep to thebeaten tracks that lead to places where money is made."
"I sometimes think we are too extravagant and perhaps more ostentatiousthan we need be," Evelyn said in a diffident tone.
"We do what our friends expect and your mother has been accustomed to.Then it's my pleasure to give my daughter every advantage I can and,when the time for her to leave us comes, to see she starts fair."
Evelyn was silent for a few moments, feeling touched. She had formed anew conception of her father, who, she had thought, loved the making ofmoney for its own sake. Now it was rather startling to find that inorder to give her mother and herself all they could desire, he had heldone side of his nature in subjection and cheerfully borne a life ofmonotonous toil.
"I don't want to leave you," she said in a gentle voice.
He looked at her keenly, and she saw that her mother had been speakingto him about Gore.
"Well," he responded, "I want to keep you as long as possible, but whenyou want to go I must face my loss and make the best of it. In themeanwhile, we'll go to Cuba if your mother consents."
Evelyn put her hand affectionately on his arm.
"Whatever happens," she said softly, "you won't fail me. I'm oftenfrivolous and selfish, but it's nice to know I have somebody I cantrust."