Part 9

“The child! What does she know of metaphysics? Yet she talked as if she knew all about it as well as she knows her own classmates. She must have studied both religion and science at college. I don’t wonder they made her valedictorian of her class, to get in the last word. She is just like her father, intellectual, and I certainly was with her when she became angry with that woman for not giving medicine to sick babies. Extraordinary, isn’t it, how some people can crowd out their natural instincts for an idea--it is not safe to live, not with such notions. What new-fangled medical schools without medicine are being propagated! Here are two new ones on board this ship--even in mid-ocean there’s no getting rid of them. Well, I’m rejoiced that Adele has not been educated out of her natural instincts. It is so much safer to be orthodox about such things, and take medicine; and these fads, why, never bother with fads except for amusement. Now that telepathic reading we had one night at home was almost as good as the other evening with hypnotics, both were so diverting. But, oh! deliver me from these new sciences. Now I mustn’t forget; I must tell Adele how much I admired her standing up for old-fashioned medicine and orthodoxy in religion.”

Thus soliloquized Mrs. Cultus in her state-room, while a door, slamming every ten seconds in the passageway, somewhat interfered with the continuity of her thoughts.

There was yet another of the party whose estimation of Adele rose immensely. Paul Warder had overheard the discussion; it gave him an insight as to Adele’s character which he would have been a long time discovering, and he felt strengthened himself by the thoughts she had expressed. Paul was not given to ostentation in religious matters any more than Adele herself, nor did he feel quite able to discuss such things even if opportunity offered. He was not so constituted, either by heredity or education. His antecedents had been of good Quaker stock, his own affiliations with churchmen, his daily associations with Doctor Wise, from whom he had heard views almost to the verge of heterodoxy.

Paul kept his own counsel and, like Adele, preferred to show by acts rather than words what his principles were. He and Adele were physically and mentally different, but spiritually not at all unlike. Without appreciating it themselves at this time they already embodied that potent yet mysterious combination in nature which affords the most solid, durable foundation for true friendship, the secure and real basis upon which marriage should stand. To hear Adele speak her mind freely, as she did, was a new experience to Paul, an insight which from its very nature forced him to think about her. It was one of these incidents in his own life he could never forget, never forget her nor what she had said.

Paul’s vernacular when he soliloquized was not so Emersonian as it might have been; if it lacked anything it certainly was even a suspicion of transcendentalism. No; Paul had a vernacular of his own, equally characteristic and, from his own point of view, even more forcible. He still retained some of his college idioms when talking aloud to the bed-post, and there was in them a peculiar virility. When he found himself alone after this new experience his youth effervesced in this style:

“By Jove, what a girl! No nonsense there! And she was right, too; O. K. every time. How she did pick out the flaws in that queer woman’s racket. I could see that it was absurd myself, but I never could have spotted the thing as Adele did and then finally smoothed things down so well. She must be an awfully good girl. I wonder if a man can ever be as good as a woman. And these college girls get on to things we fellows never grasp by the right end, and then they put them in practice, too. I detest women preachers, but, hang it! I believe Adele Cultus could preach first-rate if she wished. I hope she won’t get into the habit, but it is a deuced good thing to be able to say exactly what you really think when occasion arises. By Jove, she is a stunner! Take care, old boy, and don’t fall in love with a strong-minded girl, whatever you do. I never heard her talk so before, and if it had not been for the provocation given her by that crank and the preposterous statements she made about all-metaphysics and no-medicine Adele would never have been roused. No, it was not that either which aroused her--it was the abuse of the serious words and what Adele saw differently that roused her. No, that was not uncalled-for interference, but a regular spontaneous stand-up for the truth as she saw it. But she must have gone over it somehow beforehand, in her mind. We fellows always have to peg over such things, or get the exact words from books, so we can be sure of our ground. I expect she has a good verbal memory; I wish I had. Science, religion, and metaphysics all mixed up in the same breath. I believe she’s right, metaphysics and religion do go together in brain work, but it’s very dangerous ground for weak minds. Great Scott! when a bright girl does use her intellect how attractive she can be, and a fellow can’t help seeing and feeling how lovely she is.”

Why should Paul have been so moved? He had just learned something well worth knowing of a truly good woman whose intellect worked comprehensively, not in grooves; one who really knew more than he did on certain lines, and had the courage of her convictions, the convictions being precisely what he himself most highly approved, instinctively and by education. His youth did the rest.

He was attracted to her, as he said, and even more than he thought, but he was not enamored of her--the masculine desire for possession had not yet asserted itself; he was being unconsciously led, however, in that direction. Nature’s preparatory course was on a much higher plane than was the human style of preparation given by the Doctor to Mr. Onset. Paul felt beginning to blossom within him such an honest regard, such a profound admiration for Adele, for her sincerity and the truth in her, that he was led to “believe in her,” trusted her perfectly, and was ready to defend her in all things. But he did not love her in the complete sense of the term under natural laws: the “for better or for worse” in the supreme sense had not yet made its appeal, nor had either of them yet seen Aphrodite rising from the sea.

What was Paul’s condition from a purely philosophical standpoint? He had acquired through Adele’s force of character that which was far better, the permeating sacred spirit in which all true affection must rest if it is to endure. Paul was as true in type as Adele. Her mentality had conquered by manifesting her spirit from within, he had obtained a firm intellectual belief based upon certain phenomena in nature. Would the realizing sense of the need of each other follow? If so, what direction, what line would it take--physical or spiritual, downwards or upwards, for better or for worse? The blossom might fall blighted before the perfect fruit was formed.

As a matter of fact they themselves were absorbed simply in the beauty of the flower as it unclosed, with little thought of else than the enjoyable present.

XVI

COURAGE VERSUS FOOLHARDINESS

While yet thinking about Adele, Paul stood near the stern of the vessel, overlooking the foamy roadway produced by the constantly revolving propeller; he noticed the rapid progress made by the ship which bore him onwards. Looking outwards his thoughts at first turned hopefully towards the future--towards the region to which they were going; but soon, very soon, that which was before his very eyes drew his mind towards the past, suggested by the boiling wake extending in imagination clear back to the land they had quitted. Yet as a matter of fact it was neither the past nor the future that was just then most urgent with a crucial test for him; he was about to realize that the present is always more urgent and important than either.

Paul stood musing about this luminous pathway which led back to their native land, their home, yet each moment took him farther away from such associations, to meet strangers from whom in the very nature of things he could not expect such spontaneous sympathy as with his own countrymen.

Phosphorescence shone upon the troubled waters, marking the wake of the ship for some distance. The sky clear, and in the sheen of the moonlight details of the white-crested waves could easily be defined. It was one of those glorious evenings when the seascape appears artistically perfect, but cold and unsympathetic. Moonbeams are not inherently sympathetic, they have no warmth, they come not direct from that source of heat and life which gives the vital energy to all material things. But to imagination and in idealization moonbeams may excite or allay fear, and they often give a clearer vision of what sympathy really is, namely, hope and succor when most needed. Nature is always kind if we have the spiritual discernment to appreciate her, but variable according to her own methods.

Paul had but little of the red-hot-heroic in his physical make-up, nor was he especially romantic, but he did have something a great deal better. As often with those of his type, his sound mind in healthy body was supplemented by a keen sense of duty. Moonbeams and romanticism he could joke about, but underneath the jokes he had most decided opinions that a fellow ought to help others when necessity arose, and also his own ideas as to what was practical and what was foolhardy.

While still musing he could not avoid admiring the scene, and spontaneously associating it with one he knew could enjoy it; the picture was complete, ready to be admired. “I think Adele would enjoy it, she ought to see it. The ship is not going too rapidly, so the noise of the propeller amounts to little. I’ll go and find her,” and he turned to seek her whose pleasure was now more to him than heretofore.

Hurrying away, he had taken but a few steps before his attention was arrested by a commotion forward. There were voices, then the rapid patter and scuffling of feet on the deck, then a sharp cry, a cry the most soul-stirring a landsman can hear when in mid-ocean:

“Man overboard!”

“Which side?” exclaimed Paul, spontaneous.

“Port, sir!”

This caused such a complete revolution in Paul’s emotion that for an instant he was confused. Like many a landsman, with little fear of the water itself, yet with little or no practice at sea, the simplest nautical phrase was apt to convey confused ideas. He could not on the instant remember whether he should look forward or aft (as in a theatre) to determine port from starboard on board ship, and as usual rushed over to the wrong side. The light was bad, the moon shone the wrong way to see clearly, he rushed back again, leaned over the hand rail and thought he saw something bobbing about on the water, but was not sure--only an instant, then could distinguish the waving arms of some one struggling. The figure was yet ahead, but approaching, not quite near yet, but about to pass as he looked on.

The situation was painfully dramatic, but from the deck as Paul saw it not so perilous if actions were prompt.

“Where are those life preservers?” and with pocket-knife he cut one loose and threw it overboard, then a second, and some smaller cork-floats. Why several? He did not stop to think, for another cry, this time from the deep, reached his ear, the cry of a drowning man. It came sharp on the night air, like a personal appeal, and so sounded to Paul--a personal appeal, for none could have now heard it as clearly as he.

This was more than Paul could stand without making instant response. Two more rips of the knife blade, this time on his own shoe-strings, off went the shoes, then coat and waistcoat.

He answered with his college call, “All right, old fellow!” then sprang on the hand rail and plunged headlong into the ocean, a clear dive from the deck outwards, to find the drowning man.

None but a deck hand caught a glimpse of the youthful figure springing into space, of course too late for him to interfere. “Two overboard!” cried the sailor promptly, then giving vent to his own reflections, “Some blasted fool who wants to do the thing hisself!” mumbling as he went forward to report.

Increased excitement, passengers calling for help.

“Where was the other man?” exclaimed several voices among a group coming aft to the new center of interest. “Where?”

“There, ma’am!” said the deck hand, pointing; “he left his boots.”

“Poor fellow!” exclaimed Miss Winchester. “Oh, Adele, what a legacy! Just think of it, boots!”

The crowd rushed to look at the boots. They were held up for inspection. Frank Winchester no sooner turned her eyes upon them than she rushed forward, recognized the coat and waistcoat, and stood aghast.

“It’s Paul!”

Adele did not move, she seemed turned to stone.

Her eyes were fixed, looking straight ahead, trying to pierce the shadowy deep, the boundless expanse. The ocean seemed enormous, terrible, and, oh, so cold, heartless, consuming! “What! There? Lost!”

But she was quiet only for an instant, then seizing any loose articles she could find threw them overboard, and with strong emotion invited others to do the same. “Anything that will float--will float! It may reach them; it may, it must!” and the passengers followed her example.

More life preservers, several deck stools and steamer chairs then followed overboard before the enraged boatswain could interfere to stop their useless efforts.

“Don’t you see we’re b’arin’ round?” growled the old salt. “The boats’ll pick ’em up. There’s no sea on now.”

“I truly hope so,” breathed Adele.

“They’ve got plenty of floats already,” said the sailor.

“How do you know?” demanded Miss Winchester, nettled at the fellow’s brusque manner.

“Well, he’s got plenty anyway. Look here!” and it was indeed a great relief to see the dangling ends of those cut ropes, cut by Paul only a few minutes before, not insignificant items, for they told of presence of mind and foresight instead of reckless venture.

A lull followed, while the vessel began to turn in its course. Several boats were made ready to be lowered into the water.

“Adele,” said Miss Winchester, striving to grasp the situation, “Adele, I knew he could swim, all right, but, really, really I did not take him for that sort of man.”

“H’m!”

“He’s very brave, Adele.”

“Perhaps you don’t understand him as well as I do,” and Adele’s voice betrayed a greater intensity of feeling than she had intended. Then, as if catching herself before too late, she added in a very different tone, and casting her eyes towards the center of the ship, where the officer of the deck was giving directions:

“Frank, he’ll not be left--not if I can help it. Just wait a minute.”

Each had done what she could thus far.

XVII

TWO RESCUES--AND TWO GIRLS

The turning of the steamer appeared to take an interminable time, especially to the only two members of the Cultus party who knew that Paul was overboard. The passengers watched the great curve of foam left behind as the huge monster crept around in its course. Then whispers were heard, irrepressible, nervous whispers from people who could not keep still, and who jerked their hands up and down as if they themselves were in a dilemma.

“We’ll never find ’em, never! We’re only getting further off! Will she never turn round? We’re miles away now! Why don’t they steer straight for where they are?”

“I wish I had my hands on that wheel, I’d yank her around in a jiffy.” This critic was judging by a cruise he had made in a cat-boat on Barnegat Bay.

“I hope they’ve got them preservers hitched up high,” quoth a kind, thoughtful old dame, wearing a knitted hood and shawl crosswise. “It’s awful important not to be top-heavy in the sea, nor to swallow too much water; it’s awful salt, you know”--this kind suggestion the result of experience in a surf bath at Atlantic City.

The boatswain’s whiskers surrounded a capacious grin as he listened to this sagacious advice, while at the same time he was watching the great semicircle of foam change to a horseshoe curve, the two ends converging toward a point in the open. He took a shy glance towards the bridge, observing what was going on there, and then called out:

“Keep a lookout for’ard! Who’s got the best eyes?”

All strained their necks to catch a glimpse ahead.

The vessel had by this time veered and was ploughing back in a direct course. Suddenly a beam of light shot out from above the bridge, illuminating far ahead, penetrating the moonlight, making objects on the surface distinctly visible.

“The search light! The search light!” and a burst of cheers went forth loud enough to be heard a long distance.

“Give ’em another, boatswain!” exclaimed the Barnegat critic.

“Those fellows ain’t deaf, give ’em another, boatswain!” This from the thoughtful hood and shawl.

The old salt looked disgusted, for he had not taken part in this demonstration, but the advisory committee took it up at once, cheering again and again, as if the rescue depended upon the noise they made.

Adele put her arm in Frank Winchester’s and drew her away towards one of the life boats amidship. The boat was already manned, waiting to be lowered at the right time.

Professor Cultus and the Doctor were standing near these boats, when Adele touched the latter on the shoulder.

He turned quickly, something in her manner impressed him, and he drew her aside.

“Please go in that boat, Doctor Wise.”

“What, you want _me_ to go?”

“Yes, by all means.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Oh, but you will, if you’ll only go.”

“But there’s no reason for my going.”

“Yes, there is. Don’t ask me, but go, please, you really ought to go.”

“Ought, ought to?” repeated the Doctor curious, very thoughtful.

Now Doctor Wise had already learned that the first man overboard was Mr. Onset, the very man he had frightened by his amateur mental science treatment. Could the hysteria have returned in some new form? Was it no cure after all? Could the man have attempted suicide? If so, didn’t he himself have some personal responsibility from tampering with such a case? He should have left it for regular treatment. A successful cure would probably have brought no such adverse consequences as this; but if unsuccessful who would be to blame? At any rate he was now identified with Onset on board that ship and could not remain passive in such an emergency, even if the ship’s crew could do the work better.

Such thoughts rushed through the Doctor’s mind when Adele told him he ought to go with the rescue party, as he supposed, to help Onset.

An executive officer was superintending the boat close by, when Doctor Wise approached and asked nervously:

“Where is the physician of the ship?”

“With the next boat ahead.”

“Then I should like to go with this one.”

“Contrary to all rules,” said the officer, sharply.

Adele overheard this and before Doctor Wise decided what to do she had the executive officer by the sleeve, holding on firmly.

He politely but forcibly told her to let go and keep cool, but she would not, not until she drew herself near enough to whisper in his ear. If he could have seen her eyes he would have listened even more quickly than he did, but she made her voice speak from her heart.

Those close by only heard the first words, “Doctor Wise will be of the greatest use, he----” the rest in an undertone.

Several of the self-constituted advisory critics at once volunteered the opinion that two doctors were not too many for two men overboard. The title “Doctor” carried its own weight and the rush of events prevented any questions.

Miss Winchester meanwhile had worked her way through the crowd to the side of the vessel and was straining every nerve to discover the whereabouts of the two men struggling in the water. No doubt they had been sighted already by the officers on the bridge, because the speed of the vessel had been slackened and the search light kept in a definite direction, but Frank wanted to see them with her own eyes, alive and kicking, if possible, especially the kicking, to make sure they were alive. She thought she saw them, then knew she did not; she put up her hands to look through the fingers curved to form binoculars, but this was no better. Then eagerly looking around she spied a pair of glasses in the hands of a lady. “Oh, excuse me, just a minute!” and without waiting for a response, took the glasses without ceremony. Mrs. Thorn let her keep the glasses, but watched her excited fingers attempting to focus them in the dim light.

The speed was now so much less that boats could be lowered, ready to be let adrift at a moment’s notice. Miss Winchester saw the Doctor in the second boat, then noticed a small white spot in the distance upon the surface of the sea, and while struggling to focus those “obstinate glasses” on the white spot only made matters worse. Annoyed, clumsy just when most anxious and impatient, she pressed her lips together to steady her usually strong nerves, almost biting the end of her tongue, and lo! the glasses were all right, and into vision sprang the white spot, a life preserver supporting some one waving a handkerchief; one end of it was in his teeth and the other corner was held at full length, not at all unlike a flag of truce or a “peace-flag” amid all the commotion and excitement.

“Oh, Adele, I see them! He doesn’t seem to mind it in the least.”

“Both?” asked Adele, eagerly.

“Yes! no! yes!--I can’t make out what he’s got. Yes, two! I think so.”

“They’re both there, ma’am,” said a sailor, respectfully. “The Captain gave orders for each boat to bring a man. He’s seen ’em ’way back.”

The boats were cast off; they rose and fell upon the undulations of the mighty deep, now more impressive than when traversed at the more rapid speed. The tiny boats ascended to the summits of the white-crested waves and then were hidden in the deep valleys of the dark sea. Paul, fluttering his little white flag, rose and fell with them. They approached each other with the movements of a stately minuet upon the ocean. The fixed lights in the heavens above and the creeping search light of man below illumined the scene.

When Doctor Wise recognized Paul it gave him an icy chill down the middle of his back. It will never be known which was really experiencing the worst chill at the instant, the Doctor or Paul. However, the Doctor managed to shake himself back into a normal condition, then stood up in the boat and motioned with a peculiar movement, knowing Paul would recognize one of their private signals. Paul did recognize it and gave the reply. The Doctor then felt in his hip pocket for his whiskey flask--it was all right--and then waited until the boat was near enough to throw a line; Paul seized it.

The rescued Mr. Warder was found floating in a circular life preserver as serenely as a duck in a pond. He held Onset tightly with one arm, while Onset clung to him with both, though safe enough if he could but have realized it. There was nothing tragic whatever about either of them, except Onset’s state of mind, which he showed by his convulsed clasp of Paul.

Paul had taken a great risk, from the popular point of view, but in so doing had trusted to the good faith of others to aid him and had not been deceived. Without formulating these facts in his own mind on the instant, he had acted nevertheless upon the presumption that the science of navigation was able to meet such a case, and he had faith in human nature when embodied in sincere men. He had trusted the truth, and that had made him free to act for the best, as he saw it; and all this spontaneously, because he had the courage of such convictions ingrained in his character.

XVIII

A SENSATION VERSUS AN IMPRESSION

“Why did you do it?” asked the Doctor, as they rowed back to the ship.

“He called me.”

“Who? Onset?”