CHAPTER VII
LIFE AT SEA A KALEIDOSCOPE
In a shady retreat on the ship after lunch sat the Harrises, Leo, thejudge, and Dr. Argyle, the latter reading a French novel. Leo had justfinished a new novel entitled "A Broken Promise," Alfonso had readthree hundred pages in one of Dickens's novels that tells so vividly howthe poor of London exist.
Dr. Argyle said, "Judge, what do you think of novels anyway?"
The matter-of-fact judge gruffly replied, "I never read the modern novelbecause I don't care to waste my time."
Whereupon Alfonso said, "Give me the novel of an idealist that has apurpose. Colonel Ingersol spoke the truth in a recent lecture when hesaid that a realist can be no more than an imitator or a copyist. Hisphilosophy makes the wax that receives and retains an image of an artist.Realism degrades and impoverishes. The real sustains the same relation toideal that a stone does to a statue, or that paint does to a painting."
"No," replied Leo, "a novel proper should be a love story spiced withthe beauties of nature and exciting adventures. A novel with a purpose,Alfonso, should advertise under another name for it is a cheat. It isoften written with a deliberate attempt to beguile a person into readinga story which the writer deliberately planned to be simply the medium ofconveying useful or useless information. Possibly a social panacea, orthe theme may include any subject from separating gold from the ocean,to proving the validity of the latest theory on electricity."
"Leo, you go too far," said Mrs. Harris, "the modern novel that appearsin press and magazine, and later in book form, entering all our homes,should teach high morality and contain only proper scenes and passages."
"But, mother," said Lucille, "you would thus debar many of the world'smasterpieces in literature. It seems to me that the morality of characterand scene has little to do with the artistic value of the book. Therealist must depict life as it is. 'Art, for art's sake,' is whatcommends a novel to artistic minds."
"The modern novel is too much like modern architecture," said the judge,"a combination of classical and subsequent styles thrown together tosatisfy groups of individuals rather than to conform to well acceptedrules or ideas of art. Modern novels and modern architecture are sureto give way to nobler thoughts that shall practically harmonize theuseful and the beautiful."
Dr. Argyle, having asked for opinions on the modern novel, obtained them.He was an earnest listener as he had wished more knowledge of the Harrisfamily, which would enable him the better to lay plans; he hoped to winLucille's favor.
It was now a quarter to six o'clock and many passengers, including theHarris group, moved to the port side of the ship to observe if the sun,at the expiration of twelve hours, would again touch the water. Thistwenty-first day of the month had been one of Lowell's rare June days.It had been ushered in by beautiful cloud coloring.
The ocean was now free from mist, the blue clouds overhead darkened thesea to the horizon, and it looked as if the sun would set behind clouds.Unexpectedly, however, the clouds near the water separated, and the sunagain appeared in all his glory, sending a weird light out over thewater, gilding the "Majestic," flooding the faces of the passengers withan unnatural light, and bringing into strong relief a sailing crafthovering on the starboard horizon.
"Perfectly beautiful," exclaimed several ladies. "There," said thepurser, as four bells rang out and the gong for dinner sounded, "the sunis kissing the waves." Before any one could answer, the gorgeous sun wasslowly sinking into the blue waters of the Northern Atlantic. Passengersheld their watches and in three minutes the sun had said farewell.
The dinner was much enjoyed. After an evening of charming moonlight,midnight found all, save those on duty, asleep in the "Majestic," whichwas speeding rapidly towards the safe granite docks at Liverpool.
Moonlight at sea is so bewitching, the wonder is that pleasure-seekersever consent to land except when denied the companionship of the silvergoddess of night. Whether she races with the clouds, silver tips thewaves, or with her borrowed light floods the world with fairy-likebeauty, it is only that her admirers may exchange sorrow for joy andconflict for peace.
The sixth day out, the sun illumined a clear sky, and those that lovedthe sea were early on deck for exercise and fresh air. These early riserswere well repaid, as the steamer was passing through a great school ofporpoises that sometimes venture long distances from the British Islands.Alfonso ran to rap at Lucille's door and she hurried on deck to enjoy thesight. Hundreds of acres of the ocean were alive with porpoises or seahogs as sailors often call them.
Porpoises average five feet in length and are the size of a small boyand quite as playful. These animals are smooth, and black or gray incolor, except the under side which is pure white. They are gregariousand very sociable in their habits. Porpoises race and play with eachother and dart out of the sea, performing almost as many antics as thecircus clown. They feed on mackerel and herring, devouring largequantities. Years ago the porpoise was a common and esteemed article offood in Great Britain and France, but now the skin and blubber only havea commercial value. The skins of a very large species are used forleather or boot-thongs.
The early risers were standing on the prow of the steamer where thecutwater sent constantly into the air a nodding plume of white spray.Suddenly the watch shouted, "Whale ahead, sir!" Officers and sailorswere astir. Just ahead, and lying in the pathway of the steamer lay awhale, fifty feet in length, seemingly asleep, for he was motionless. Theofficer's first thought was that he would slack speed, but presence ofmind prompted him to order full speed, planning no doubt, if the whalewas obstinate, to cut him in halves.
Lucille and others, fearful of consequences, turned and ran, but theleviathan suddenly dropped down out of sight, his broad tail splashingsalt water into the faces of the young people who were bold enough toawait events. With a sense of relief, Leo exclaimed, "Narrow escape,that!"
"Narrow escape for whom?" Alfonso inquired.
"For both the steamer and the whale," replied Lucille.
On the way to breakfast, Lucille asked an officer if similar instancesfrequently happened.
"Rarely," he replied, but added, "very likely we may see other whales inthis vicinity." Sure enough, after breakfast, children ran up and downthe deck shouting, "Whales! Whales!" and several were seen a mile or twonorth of the ship's course, where they sported and spouted water.
About four o'clock, the temperature having fallen several degrees, thepassengers sighted to the northeast a huge iceberg in the shape of anarch, bearing down on the steamer's course, and had it been night,possibly freighted with all the horrors of a ship-wreck. As it was,Captain Morgan deemed it wise to lessen the speed as the ship approachedthe iceberg.
"This is wonderful, Leo," said Mrs. Harris; "can you tell us where andwhen icebergs are formed?"
"Oh yes, Mrs. Harris, icebergs that float down the Atlantic are born onthe west coast of Greenland. Up there great valleys are filled with snowand ice from hill-top to hill-top, reaching back up the valleys, in someinstances from thirty to forty miles. This valley-ice is called a 'Merde Glace,' and has a motion down the valley, like any river, but ofthree feet more or less only per day. If time enough is allowed, vastquantities of this valley-ice move into the gulf or sea. When the seais disturbed by a storm the ice wall or precipice is broken off, andenormous masses, often a hundred times larger than a big building, falland float away with the report of the firing of a park of artillery, andthese floating mountains of ice are lighted in their lonely pathways bythe midnight sun."
Before dinner, came the regular promenade which presented many contrasts.A pretty bride from the Blue Grass Region of Kentucky walked with heryoung husband whom she had first met at a New England seaside. She wasglad to aid in bridging the chasm between north and south. Her travelingdress of blue was appropriately trimmed with gray.
The gorgeously dressed gambler walked on the deck alone. Then came twomodest nuns dressed in gray and white. Alfonso and his mother, the judgeand Lucille, and a
group of little children followed. Dr. Argyle and aPhiladelphia heiress kept step. Everybody walked, talked, and laughed,and the passengers had little need of the ship's doctor now. If theweather is fair the decks are always enlivened as a steamer approachesland. The next day, by noon at latest, Ireland and Fastnet Rock wouldbe sighted, if the ship's reckoning had been correct.
After dinner, Dr. Argyle was walking the deck with Lucille in thestar-light. He had told her much of his family, of his talented brotherin the Church, and of another in the army; he had even venturedto speak of Lucille's grace of manner, and she feared what might follow.The call of Mrs. Harris relieved Lucille of an unpleasant situation.
Secretly, Lucille was pleased to escape from Dr. Argyle. Something in hismanner told her that he was not sincere; that he was a schemer, perhaps afortune-seeker, and she gladly rejoined her mother.
Mrs. Harris and her children often wondered how matters were progressingat home. Alfonso had faith in his father's ability to cope with thestrike, but Mrs. Harris and Lucille were much worried. "Don't let ustrouble," said Alfonso, "till we reach Queenstown, as there we shallsurely get a cablegram from father."
Just then Leo joined the family, and Lucille taking his arm, the twowalked the deck, and later they found quiet seats in the moonlight. Themoon's welcome rays revealed fleece-like clouds overhead and changed thewaters astern into acres of diamonds. Gentle breezes fanned the cheeksof two troubled lovers who thus far had kept well their heart secrets.Lucille's warm and sensitive nature yearned for some confidant in whomshe could find consolation. Mrs. Harris never quite understood herdaughter. Lucille was noble, generous, and true in her affection. Herideal of marriage was that the busy shuttle of life must be of Divineguidance, and often she was at a loss to understand some of the deepmysteries that had clouded her own life. Of this world's blessings herlife had been full, except she could not reconcile some of her lateexperiences. Of this, of course, Leo knew nothing. He too had had a cupof bliss dashed suddenly to the ground. A moment of anger had destroyedhis plans for life. The moon's soft light changed Leo's purpose never tospeak to Lucille of his affection for Rosie Ricci, and he now franklytold her the whole story.
At first Lucille did not wish to believe that Leo had ever been in love,as her own heart had turned to him in the silent hours of the night whenthe pain in her heart forbade sleep.
Trembling she said, "Leo, you have given Rosie up forever then?"
"Oh no, Miss Harris, it was Rosie who said to me, 'Good-bye, Leo,forever.' She accepted my attentions for a year. Alas! Rosie's love forthe rich man's gold I fear was more powerful than her love for me, a poorartist, and so she threw back the ruby ring and my mother's cameo, andcrushed my heart and hopes. In accepting the kind invitation of yourbrother to accompany your family on this trip, I hoped that the journeymight heal my suffering soul."
"I am delighted," said Lucille, her voice and hand still trembling alittle, "that your own vow was not broken."
Leo's olive complexion was softened in the moon's rays, his face wassaddened by the recital of his deep affliction, and his dark eyes werelowered, as he looked out upon the troubled pathway of the steamer. Fora moment Lucille earnestly gazed at Leo who seemed to her to be handsomeand noble, but he appeared lost as in a dream. Every man is thought to benoble by the woman who loves him. Then she took both his hands in hers inpity and said, "Leo, be brave as your ancestors were brave. You will be asuccess in the world because you have remaining your intense love forart."
"Yes, Lucille, and I think I shall marry art only."
"Don't be rash, Leo, we frail human beings know little in advance as toheaven's plans."
Few forces work truer in nature than the principle that like begets like.Leo confided in Lucille, and now Lucille confided in Leo; she slowly toldin low voice the story of her own great disappointment.
"I too, once had an ideal lover. Our souls were one; the day of weddingeven had been fixed; orders for an expensive trousseau had been sent toParis; the details of the marriage had been arranged, a long journeyabroad planned, and the city for our future home was selected. Thesethings had become part of my dreams, and the joy of anticipation wasfilling my cup to the brim.
"One evening, in the moonlight, such as now smiles upon us, I askedBernard if he would read a short note which I had just received, and tellme if its contents were true. Bernard removed the letter from theenvelope, looked at the signature, and reading turned pale. The note wasfrom a lady who asked if I was aware that he had offered himself toanother.
"A second time I pressed the question to know if the contents were true,and he answered, 'Yes', and added that it was not his fault that he didnot marry the lady.
"'Then you love her still, Bernard?'
"'Yes, Lucille, but I love you also.'
"In anger and disappointed love I left him. Of course all plans for themarriage were cancelled at once. 'First love or none,' was then writtenon my heart, where it still remains."
Lucille wept while Leo sat surprised. He knew not what to say, for herheart-story and heart edict, "First love or none," had opened his ownwounds afresh, and had shut the door to Lucille's heart perhaps forever.
"Come, Lucille," a call of Mrs. Harris, aroused the courage of Leo, andhe said to Lucille, who with a flushed face looked more beautiful thanever, "At least we should be friends." "Yes," she murmured, and Mrs.Harris and her daughter retired.
The night before, the second officer had told Lucille that land wouldprobably be seen early next day on the port-side. All the morning, Mrs.Harris was awaiting anxiously more news about the great strike atHarrisville.
"Land, on the port-side, sir!" shouted the forward lookout, just as fourbells struck the hour of ten o'clock. The officer on duty, pacing thebridge, raised his glass and in a moment he answered, "Ay! Ay! TheSkelligs."
"What do they mean?" inquired Mrs. Harris of a sailor passing. "Theofficer has sighted land, madam. Don't you see the specks of blue lowdown on the horizon to the northeast? That's the Skelligs, three rockyislets off the southwest coast of Ireland, near where I was born, andwhere my wife Katy, and the babies live. That's where my dear old motheralso keeps watch for her Patsie."
"Is your name Patsie?" Alfonso asked.
"Yes, sir, Patsie Fitzgerald, and I'm proud of my name, my family, theEmerald Isle, and the fine steamer that's taking us safely home, and mayGod bless all you fine people, and keep my wife and babies and my dearold mother!"
"Thank you!" said Alfonso, "here, Patsie, is a little money for thebabies," and the sailor tipped his hat and bowed his thanks.
The signal officer on Brea Head, Valentia Island, was soon exchangingsignals with the "Majestic," and five minutes later the sighting of the"Majestic" was cabled to the Lloyds of Liverpool and London and back toNew York, via Valentia Bay, and it was known that evening in Harrisvillethat the Harris family were safely nearing Queenstown.
Travelers experience delightful feelings as the old world is approachedfor the first time. All that has been read or told, and half believed, isnow felt to be true, and you are delighted that you are so soon to seefor yourself the "Mother Islands," and Europe which have peopled thewestern world with sons and daughters.
With the precision of the New York and Jersey City ferries the oceansteamers enter the harbors of the old and new world. On the southwesterncoast of Ireland is Bantry Bay, memorable in history as having been twiceentered by the French navy for the purpose of invading Ireland. In sightis Valentia, the British terminus of the first Atlantic cable to NorthAmerica, also the terminus of the cables laid in 1858, 1865, and 1866,and of others since laid. The distance is 1635 miles from Valentia Bayto St. John, Newfoundland.
From the deck of the steamer, Ireland seems old and worn. Her rocky capesand mountainous headlands reach far into the ever encroaching Atlanticlike the bony fingers of a giant. Fastnet Rock lighthouse on the right,telling the mariner of half-sunken rocks, and Cape Clear on the left,soon drop behind.
Approaching Queenstown, the
green forests and fields and little whitehomes of fishermen and farmers are visible along the receding shore.Roach's Point, four miles from Queenstown is reached, where the mails arelanded and received, if the weather is bad, but Captain Morgan decidedto steam into Queenstown Harbor, one of the finest bays in the world,being a sheltered basin of ten square miles, and the entrance stronglyfortified. Within the harbor are several islands occupied by barracks,ordnance and convict depots, and powder magazines. This deep andcapacious harbor can float the navies of the world. In beauty it comparesfavorably with the Bay of Naples.
Cove, or Queenstown, as Cove is called, since the visit of Queen Victoriain 1849, has a population of less than ten thousand. It is situated onthe terraced and sheltered south side of Great Island. Here for hishealth came Rev. Charles Wolfe, author of "Not a drum was heard, not afuneral note."
In the amphitheatre-shaped town on parallel streets rise tiers of whitestone houses, relieved by spire and tower. On neighboring highest hillsare old castles, forts, and a tall white lighthouse.
One or more of Her Majesty's armored warships may always be seen withinthe bay. The "Majestic" dropped anchor in the quiet harbor, and thecompany's lighter came along side with passengers for Liverpool, and totake ashore the Queenstown passengers, and the mails which, checked out,numbered over 1600 sacks. The transatlantic mail is put aboard theexpress and hurried to Dublin, thence from Kingston to Holyhead, via aswift packet across St. George's Channel, and to its destination, thussaving valuable hours in its delivery throughout Europe.
Several small boats appeared bringing natives who offered for sale fruit,Irish laces, and canes made of black bog oak, with the shamrock carved onthe handles. Mrs. Harris was much pleased to renew her acquaintance withthe scenes of her girlhood, having sailed from Queenstown for Boston whenshe was only ten years old.
The baggage was left on the steamer to go forward to Liverpool, andAlfonso led the way aboard the lighter, and from the dock to the Queen'sHotel. Each carried a small satchel, with change of clothing, till thetrunks should be overtaken.
At the hotel Alfonso found the longed-for cablegram from his father whichread as follows:--
Harrisville,--
_Mrs. Reuben Harris, Queen's Hotel, Queenstown, Ireland._
Employees still out. Mills guarded. Will hire new men. Searles visits Australia. All well. Enjoy yourselves. Love.
Reuben Harris.
"It's too bad that father and Gertrude couldn't be with us," said Mrs.Harris.
The lunch ashore of Irish chops, new vegetables, and fruit was a decidedimprovement on the food of the last few days. The Harrises after a stormysea voyage were delighted again to put foot on mother earth, to enjoy thegreen terraces, ivy-clad walls, cottages, and churches, and also to seethe shamrock, a tiny clover, which St. Patrick held up before the Irishpeople to prove the Holy Trinity. Lucille found the pretty yellow furz,the flower which Linnaeus, the famous Swedish botanist, kissed.
Alfonso suggested that they take the part rail and part river routeof a dozen miles to Cork, the third city of Ireland. En route are seenbeautiful villas, green park-like fields, rich woods, and a terracethat adorns the steep banks of the River Lee. A ruined castle atMonkstown is pointed out, which a thrifty woman built, paying the workmanin goods, on which she cleared enough to pay for the castle, except anodd groat, hence the saying, "The castle cost only a groat."
A delightful day was spent at Cork, an ancient city, which pagans andDanes once occupied, and which both Cromwell and Marlborough captured.Here Rev. Thomas Lee, by his preaching, inclined William Penn, "Father ofPennsylvania," to become a Quaker. Here was born Sheridan Knowles, thedramatist, and other famous writers.
After visiting the lakes of Killarney and Dublin, the Harris family tooka hasty trip through England.