CHAPTER XXIII
AN EMBARRASSED RESCUER
On the long trip to Australia the tourists encountered the most severestorm of the journey. In fact, it was almost equal to the dreaded typhoon,and there were times when, despite the staunchness of the vessel, thefaces of the captain and the officers were lined with anxiety.
After two days and nights, however, of peril, the storm blew itself outand the rest of the journey was made over serene seas and under cloudlessskies.
One night after the girls had retired, Joe and Jim, together with McRaeand Braxton, were sitting in the smoking room. The conversation had beenof the kind that always prevails when baseball "fans" get together.
After a while Jim accompanied McRae to the latter's cabin to discuss somedetails of Jim's contract for the coming season, leaving Joe and Braxtonas the sole occupants of the room.
Joe had never been able to overcome the instinctive antipathy that he hadfelt toward Braxton from the first, but he had kept this under restraint,and Braxton himself, though he might have suspected this feeling, wasalways suave and urbane.
There was no denying that he was good company and always interesting. Inan apparently accidental way, Braxton, who had been scribbling aimlesslyupon some pieces of paper that lay on the table, led the talk toward thesubject of handwriting.
"It's a gift to write a good hand," he remarked. "It's got to be born inyou. Some men can do it naturally, others can't. I'm one of the fellowsthat can't. I'll bet Horace Greeley himself never wrote a worse hand thanI do."
"I've heard that he was a weird writer," smiled Joe.
"The worst ever," rejoined Braxton. "I've heard that he wrote to hisforeman once, ordering him to discharge a printer who had set up a badcopy. The printer hated to lose his job and an idea struck him. He gothold of the letter discharging him and took it to Greeley, who didn't knowhim by sight, and told him it was a letter of recommendation from his lastemployer. Greeley tried to read it, but couldn't, so he said he guessed itwas all right and told him he was engaged."
Joe laughed, and Braxton tossed over to him a sheet of paper on which hehad written his name.
"Greeley has nothing on me," he said. "If you didn't know my name wasBraxton, I'll bet you wouldn't recognize these hen tracks."
"You're right," said Joe. "I'm no dabster myself at writing and I cansympathize with you."
"It couldn't be as bad as this," challenged Braxton, slipping a pen overto Joe, together with a fresh piece of paper.
"No," said Joe, as he took up the pen, "I guess at least you could makemine out."
He scribbled his name and Braxton picked up the paper with a laugh.
"I win," he said. "You're bad, but I'm worse. You see I am proud even ofmy defects."
He dropped the subject then and talked of other things until Joe, stiflinga yawn, excused himself and went to his cabin.
The reception of the party in Australia went far beyond theirexpectations. That remote continent has always been noted for its sportingspirit and although of course the English blood made cricket theirfavorite game, the crowds were quick to detect and appreciate the meritsof the great American pastime.
As a rule they would not concede that the batting was any better than thatshown by their own cricketers, but there was no question as to thesuperiority of the fielding.
The lightning throws, the double plays, the marvelous catches in theoutfield and the speed shown on the bases were freely admitted to be farand away beyond that shown by their elevens. And the crowds grew largerand larger as the visiting teams made their triumphal progress through thegreat cities of Sydney, Brisbane, Adelaide and Melbourne.
Inspired by their reception and put upon their mettle by the greatoutpouring of spectators, the teams themselves played like demons. Onemight almost have thought that they were fighting for the pennant.
They were so evenly matched that first one and then the other was on top,and by the time they reached Melbourne the Giants were only one game inthe lead of the total that had been played since the trip began.
Melbourne itself with its romantic history and magic growth proved veryattractive. But Joe was destined to remember it for very differentreasons.
While walking with Jim one day outside the town near the Yarra Yarrariver, they were startled by hearing a cry for help, and racing toward thesound they saw a young girl struggling in the water.
Trained by their vocation to act quickly, they threw off their coats,plunging into the water almost at the same instant. They swam fiercely,lashed on by that frantic wail, sounding fainter each time it wasrepeated.
The race for a life was almost neck and neck until Joe, showing histremendous reserve strength, shot ahead at the very end, grasping thestruggling figure as it was sinking for the last time.
Jim helped, and together they brought the rescued girl--the long dankblack hair testified to her sex--back to shore, where a group of thenative blacks, attracted by the cries, had gathered to welcome them.
Dripping and exhausted, the two heroes of the occasion staggered up thebank while willing hands relieved them of their burden.
"Let's beat it," whispered Jim, as the crowd of natives closed around theunconscious object of their heroism, "while the going's good. If that girlever finds out that you rescued her she'll want to attach herself to youfor life. That seems to be the fool custom of these parts."
"She'd find it pretty hard work," said Joe, with a wry smile. "Besides, wedon't even know that the girl's alive. It would be pretty heartless toclear out without learning."
"Oh, all right," said Jim, uneasily. "But remember, if there are anyconsequences you've got to take 'em."
At that moment the crowd opened and the boys saw a remarkably good-lookingblack girl standing dizzily and supported by another native who might havebeen her father.
She looked dazedly from one to the other of the young men and Jim promptly"stepped out from under."
"It's him," said Jim, neglecting grammar in his eagerness to shift theburden of credit to Joe's broad shoulders. "He did it all."
The girl walked unsteadily up to Joe and said, submissively: "My life isyours! Me your slave!"
Joe started, stared, and gulped, then turned to Jim to make sure he wasawake, and not a victim of some bad dream. But Jim had suddenly acquired apeculiar form of hysteria, and with a choking sound turned his back uponhis friend.
"N-no," stuttered Joe, gently pushing the girl away, "no want."
Another explosion from Jim did not serve to improve Joe's state of mind.His face was fiery red, and his voice husky.
"Me slave!" persisted the girl stubbornly.
Then Joe turned and fled, manfully fighting a desire to shout withlaughter one moment, and groan with dismay the next.
Two very much subdued baseball players crept in at the side door of thehotel, and scurried along the corridor toward their rooms, hoping ardentlyto meet no one on the way. It was with a sigh of relief that they slippedinside, locked the door, and repaired the ravages that the waters of theYarra Yarra had made upon their clothing.
A few moments later, with self respect considerably improved, theysauntered down to the writing room, where they found the two girls lookingmore distractingly pretty than ever, engaged in folding the last of theirletters.
"Oh, back so soon?" queried Mabel, looking up.
"Goodness, how the time has flown," said Clara. "It seems as though youhad just gone. Have you another stamp, Mabel dear? I have used mine allup."
"Say, you're complimentary," remarked Jim, dryly. "It's great to be missedlike that."
"Well, we'll miss something more if we don't get a move on," said Joe,practically. "How about some lunch, girls?"
After luncheon the quartette sauntered out for a walk up Elizabeth streetto the post-office. The boys were just congratulating themselves thattheir uncomfortable, though piquant, experience of the morning was a thingdefinitely of the past, when it happened!
Joe felt a touch on his arm, and, looking
down, saw, to his horror, theblack girl.
"Me yours!" she cried, eagerly.
Joe muttered savagely beneath his breath, and held the girl off at arm'slength, his misery increasing as, with a quick side glance, he saw thegrowing indignation in Mabel's eyes.
"Me yours!" repeated the girl, with the maddening monotony of aphonograph.
But just then, when Joe was at his wit's end, help came from an unexpectedquarter. A big black man, glowering threateningly, elbowed his way throughthe curious group that had gathered about them, grasped the girl by thearm, and dragged her away. There was no mistaking the jealousy thatprompted the action. Joe drew a deep sigh of deliverance, while Jim wascrimson with suppressed laughter.
Mabel was the only one, except Joe himself, who could not see the joke.There were two pink spots in her cheeks, her eyes were very bright, herhead was held high, and poor Joe had some explaining to do before theparty left Australia, which they did soon after, and started on theirjourney to Ceylon.
They reached Colombo in Ceylon, the island of spices, the richest gem inthe Indian ocean, and disembarked late one afternoon. At the hotel in theEnglish quarter, while the women of the party went to their rooms torefresh themselves and dress for dinner, the men, after a hasty toilet,went into the lobby of the hotel where, as always, their first thought wasto get hold of the papers from home.
Joe's eyes fell on a New York paper and he snatched it up eagerly andturned to the sporting page for the latest news of the diamond. He gave astartled exclamation as he saw the bold headline that stretched across thetop of the page:
"_Joe Matson, the Pitching King, Signs with the All-Star League!_"