"And a better mess-man never stepped, they said. Nothing was too much trouble. The Second, a very typical man, without much imagination as far as I could detect, quite startled me by saying, with his eyes wide open and a curious, proud expression on his face, that in _his_ opinion, if the truth were known, 'our new mess-man' was a lord. What amused me was I never could get out of him what made him think so. I said, 'Go on with you. _You_ wouldn't know a lord if you fell over one.' 'Oh, wouldn't I,'

he said, turning sulky. I laughed. It just showed you what a tremendous power my brother had over people. And as the days went by, stories came up from various quarters, fabulous stories of 'that new mess-man.' They came up and went down again, and then came up again more fabulous than ever. He knew what he was doing perfectly well, and he showed a remarkable insight into the silly, credulous nature of seamen by the way his adventures were coloured. He never told _me_ anything beyond that he'd had a fierce time. The legends were legends. The second cabin steward, who roomed with him, and a couple of impressionable apprentices, were forever bringing up new variations of the doings of 'that new mess-man.' They told a tale of how he had run through a fortune in no time and had been compelled to run away from his creditors. How? Oh, horses, you know, Newmarket and Epsom, supper parties, going everywhere first cla.s.s, cigars ... champagne ... and so on. The second cook told the pantry-man 'that new mess-man' was a marvel on the mandolin; had been in an operatic orchestra ... studied abroad.

Where? Oh, on the continent. And the old man himself heard a fantastic yarn from somewhere or other and handed it on to me, that 'your new mess-man' had been in the diplomatic service and had been broken 'on account of a woman' at one of these here emba.s.sies. 'No!' I said. 'Oh, quite likely,' says the Old Man, though I doubt if he knew any more of emba.s.sies than of metaphysics. The story gave an aristocratic sort of tinge to the ship, I suppose. As I say, I didn't know what had been happening in my brother's life of late and I had no great desire to know. Whatever he had done did not prevent him looking after his work.

The Second was quite disturbed over the indefatigable way 'that new mess-man' tidied up his room. It was what the newspapers call 'an Augean task,' for the Second was not very neat in his habits. Boots, matches, cigarette-ends, pieces of waste, dirty boiler-suits and torn newspapers and magazines all over the floor. He never would put away his sh.o.r.e-clothes until we'd been at sea a week or two, and he kept a good many small tools under his mattress. Sailor fashion, you know. He had an electric fan, which for want of screws had tumbled into his wash-basin and cracked it. 'That new mess-man' had taken the fan away and jiggered with it until it ran as sweet as ever, and he'd got some cement and fixed the basin, and made a fine job of it! This was the Second telling me all about it. And he thought this paragon was a lord. He seemed to think a lord was an ingenious kind of plumber.

"Of course, as I've tried to explain to you sh.o.r.e folks, I stood too far above the common gossip of the ship to hear everything. Only now and again I was made to realize that my brother was still the same fascinating illusionist. It is a great gift. Don't think I'm not appreciative of it. Indeed, I envied him his power of mixing, as they say, his knack of 'setting the table in a roar.' A great gift! Once, coming along past the galley, where he was talking to a little crowd of cooks and scullions and cattlemen, I saw the bent heads, the eager, sparkling eyes, the parted lips, hanging expectantly on his every word.

And, when the joke came, the quick rush of breath, the slapping of thighs, the explosions of laughter, the barks of the cattlemen and the high windy cackle of the young fellows. Gift? It is one of the gifts of the G.o.ds, I think. And one night, coming down the port alleyway from the chief mate's room, I pa.s.sed my brother's quarters. There was a ragged curtain across the doorway, and as I pa.s.sed in my rubber-soled shoes I caught a glimpse through a rent in the fabric. Three young chaps, the second-cabin steward and the two apprentices, were sitting on the settee, their eyes rapt, their mouths open. The Third Mate, an officer, of all the people in the world, was leaning against the wash-stand, his hands in his pockets, his eyes fixed in the same attentive way. I moved a little and saw my brother on the drawer-tops, smoking a cigarette, his eyes cast down, speaking in a low voice. As I watched he raised his eyes and gesticulated, smiling and shrugging his shoulders. And the audience nodded and smiled too. He was taking them along with him. He was telling them a story, the oldest trick in the world. I realized with a start that I had no business there, and went along and round to my own room. But I envied him, for with all his waywardness he had the gift of gifts. He could charm the hearts of men and women, and hold them with his words.

"As we came up the Gulf of Lyons I was thinking of seeing Rosa again, and so perhaps I gave less attention to Frank. But just as usual, the morning we arrived, as I was sitting in my room about five o'clock, waiting for the stand-by gong, he came in with coffee and toast. 'I suppose you're for the beach now, Frank,' I said. 'Oh yes,' he says, 'as soon as I'm paid off!' 'You've done a d.a.m.n sight better than I expected,' I said, and then I stopped because he was looking at me in a peculiar way. He drew the bunk-curtains close, shifted the mat straight and went out.

"I was busy for a good while down below after we were tied up, for the Second was scared of a bad place in one of the furnaces. When I came up and sent the Third to call Frank, he came back and said he'd cleared out. 'Went ash.o.r.e with the Old Man, sir.' Well, I thought, he'll be down to say good-bye, I suppose. I turned in, so as to be fresh in the evening for Rosa.

"It was a beautiful night at the end of October. Genoa is always beautiful to my mind, but that evening she was _la Superba_, as the citizens love to call her. Right round the bay the harbour lights twinkled, and above them the lights of the city seemed like a necklace of diamonds, hung against the night. As the boatman rowed me ash.o.r.e I felt satisfied with myself. I was going to see my girl, and if I thought of my brother at all--well, I'd done the right thing by him. I wished him well. I intended, since he had made good, to give him some money to get home to England in comfort, if he wanted to go. Yes, I was very pleased that night.

"It wasn't long before Rosa and I were in the trolley car that runs along the _Via Milano_ up to the _Piazza de Ferrari_, where all the cafes and theatres are. I bought tickets for the _Verdi_ and then we went to _Schlitz's_, a big German restaurant in the _Via Venti Settembre_. I like restaurants, you know. Old Sam Johnson wasn't so far out when he voted for a tavern. That's one thing this country can't either import or invent--a tavern. They have the same name; every public house is called a cafe; but what are they? Simply _pubs_.

"We were coming up the _Via Venti Settembre_ again to the _Verdi_, under those arches, when I saw my brother. He was standing by a little table set out by the kerb where an old woman was selling lottery-tickets. It used to be as much to the Italians as horse-racing is with English people. The evening papers had the winning numbers in the stop-press column. I saw my brother put down a bill, and the old woman gave him a bunch of tickets. And then he looked up and saw us.

"I ran right into trouble, you know, this time. Somehow or other, I'd forgotten Rosa. I didn't simply not try to avoid him, I waited for him to come up. It seemed only the right and proper thing. He came up, lifting his cap. He'd bought a suit of clothes and a pair of those long-toed foreign boots, but he still had the old cap I'd given him.

Those clothes fitted him well, I remember, but he was a well-made man and easy to fit. The coat had a waist to it, and he was a fine figure of a man as he came up.

"I got a sort of panic at the moment he spoke. 'I'll see you to-morrow.

I'll see you to-morrow,' I said, and tried to draw Rosa away. She looked at me in surprise. 'Who is it?' she asked me in Italian. 'Never mind,' I said. 'Come away.' 'I'll see you to-morrow.'

"'Why, Charley!' he says. 'You aren't going away without introducing me, surely.'

"I was in a cleft stick. All of a sudden the memory of what he had done with Gladys had rushed over me. I pulled Rosa away. 'To-morrow,' I kept saying to Frank. 'See you to-morrow.' He didn't understand, apparently; kept up with us, his lottery tickets in his hand, trying to look into Rosa's face, and she hanging back looking at him. In this way we came up to the _Verdi_ doors, and I started to go in.

"Women are obstinate sometimes. Rosa kept looking at him as he walked beside her, and before we were inside the vestibule he had explained that it was strange I wouldn't introduce him, seeing we were brothers.

She looked at me. I couldn't deny he was my brother. All I could do was to say, 'Go away, Frank, go away!' But he didn't go away. He stood beside us in the crowd in the vestibule looking down at us, laughing, and talking, absolutely at his ease. As usual he was putting me in wrong before some one I knew. 'Why,' he says, 'even that silly blue-nosed old bounder of a captain of yours has given me a good character. Come on, Charley, be a sport. 'Pon my soul, Charley, I never knew you were much of a man with the girls. Sly old dog, eh? Going to sea all this time and spotting all the hot-house fruit, eh?'

"'Frank,' I said, 'this lady is my future wife.'

"He fell away from us in his surprise, looked from Rosa to me and back again, quick, like a bird, and then burst into a roar of laughter.

"My brother Frank is one of those men who simply cannot believe in women. They honestly do not believe a virtuous woman exists. They strike you as vicious and coa.r.s.e, these men, just when they are trying to be most charming. To my brother women were hot-house fruit. You can't blame such men altogether, because women themselves foster the idea. They act more like lunatics than sane people. Their heads are turned. No, you can't blame the men entirely.

"My brother was perfectly sincere when he burst out laughing at me. He didn't believe me for a minute. The idea of my 'walking-out' with a young lady in Genoa was comic. It was of a piece with all the rest of my d.a.m.n foolishness. I never attempted to explain my feelings to him, and I don't suppose he understands to this day the terrible pain his laugh gave me. You can realize, when I'd been known to Rosa so long, that it would.

"My brother, somewhat to my surprise, left it at that. He threw up his hands, still holding the lottery-tickets, and turned away. We went into the theatre, and when we were fixed in the _poltrone_, seats where you can have a little table brought to you for the drinks and ices, I was able to explain something of my brother's record to Rosa. Every thing I told her about him interested her. Compared with my own history it was a story of adventure indeed. She would ask questions to lead me on. 'What did he do then?' When I told her simply that I'd met him 'down and out'

at Buenos Ayres, she was so sorry. The mere trifling fact that he'd robbed one woman and swindled half-a-dozen others didn't matter. Of course, I couldn't tell her the details of Gladys' story--he had me there! And I wouldn't lower myself to speak of how he tried to choke me.

After all, I believe that was a mistake. He wouldn't do that to me knowingly. So that you see, when you come to look at the tale I told Rosa, what wasn't downright pathetic and unfortunate was romantic and daring. Rosa was a quiet girl. We didn't quarrel over the matter, but I could see she was thinking of my brother, a fine figure of a man, by the way.

"I am quite sure now, after all these years, that it was what we would call just a pa.s.sing interest. All women have their sudden romantic likings for strange men who catch their imaginations. I remember taking tea one afternoon in the house of a friend on Clapham Common. His sister, a middle-aged woman, and a friend of hers, middle-aged too, entertained me until my friend came in. These two women, fat and forty, could talk of nothing else for some time but a wonderfully nice 'bus-conductor they had spoken to coming back from Richmond. 'Oh, he _was_ such a nice man!' they said, and then they'd look at each other. I was younger then and slightly scandalized. Women are queer. I suppose in a week they'd forgotten his very existence; but at the time, 'Oh, he _was_ a nice man!' So it was with Rosa. Frank had filled her imagination, as he always did; but if she had not seen him again it would have pa.s.sed like a mist.

"I don't blame her, nor even Frank, now. It was a tragical accident, and very nearly wrecked my happiness. You may say I ought to have left him in Buenos Ayres. I thought so at one time; but I believe now it would have made no difference. We were bound to meet some day. It was fate.

"I saw Rosa home and went back to the ship. The Old Man was going aboard just as I came to the gangway and asked me to go down and have a drink in his room. He was very excited about some lottery-tickets he had bought. Skippers and chiefs go in for these things a good deal. One captain in that employ won a cool ten thousand dollars in Bahia Blanca.

It was the thing to do. Up in the agent's office the clerks would talk over the lottery drawings, and each skipper would be anxious to do the same as the others--you see? Well, my Old Man had bought fifty tickets.

He was full of a system by which he picked them. Every third one, then every third one again. A mad idea! I thought of my brother waving his bunch, thought of his picking them up without even looking at the numbers. I said to the Old Man, 'Cap'n, you haven't a single good number. I expect the man who's got the lucky one is up in the city now.'

'Why, how do you know?' he said, pa.s.sing the soda. 'I just feel it,' I said. He was worried about that. Gamblers have the most peculiar notions.

"Well, he sent the third mate ash.o.r.e just before tea to get the _Sera_.

'Come on, Chief,' says he, coming into my room where I was washing, 'let's go through the numbers. I'm just crazy to prove you wrong.'

'Where did you buy them?' I asked. 'Outside the _Verdi_,' he told me. We went through them. I read out the numbers of his tickets while he compared them with those in the paper. His highest number was some two hundred thousand, two hundred and fifty-one, I remember. And the last winning number in the paper was that same number of thousands, two hundred and fifty-two. He dashed the paper on the floor. 'Darn!' he says, 'why didn't I take one more. Think o' that, Chief!' What was the use of thinking of it? 'I'm not surprised,' I said, 'though it is aggravating.' Humph!

"Half way down that splendid new street, one of the finest in Europe, the _Via Venti Settembre_, and not far from Schlitz's Restaurant, is Bertolini's Bristol Hotel. Rosa and I were walking down past it that night, on our way to _Acquasole_, where there was a band, when Frank came out. A cab stood at the kerb, and he was making for it when he saw us and bore down on us. He was dazzling. He had a big ulster and he was in evening dress. 'Now, Charlie, my boy, this is the limit. I was coming to see you. Come and dine with me at the _Roma_,' and he dragged us to the cab.

"Yes, his luck was back. He'd picked up the winning number, the one the Old Man had left. Ten thousand francs! He wasn't going to wait for the State to sh.e.l.l out. He just went to the Russian Bank in the _Piazza Campetto_ and discounted the ticket for cash. In one flash he'd won more than I earned in a couple of years. Yes, he was going to winter in Italy, he said. Naples, Rome, Florence, Bologna, Venice; then Paris and London. Before I knew what I was doing I was standing outside of the _Roma_ watching him help Rosa out of the cab. He carried things with a rush. Nothing too good for him. This was his natural element, luxury, excitement, whiz and snap. What a man!

"Again, I say, I don't blame Rosa. What girl wouldn't be fascinated by such a man? I had never realized before how charming a man could be.

What had I to offer a woman to compare with him? In a few hours he had picked up enough Italian to patter with. Rosa spoke English, it is true, but what jokes he got out of his Italian! How he talked! There was I, just as I am now, blue serge and rather a plain little man, nothing special anyway. I was forgotten. The waiters took no more notice of me than if I'd been a portmanteau. And yet in the bank I had much more money than Frank. Ah! but he was flashing it. Didn't they run!

"I tried to have it out with Rosa as we went down to the _Via Milano_ that night. Perhaps I was unreasonable. Perhaps I showed jealousy--a foolish thing to do. We parted rather cross with each other. You see, I'd never spent money like water on her. I was saving to have a home.

"I had rather a hard day following. The boilers had to be gone through, and that's a job I never leave to the Second. The boilers are the vitals of a ship. I don't care what happens in the engine-room so long as my boilers are all right. And so I was a bit late getting away at night. I went along to Rebecca's. Rosa was serving in the cafe, and I began to grumble to Rebecca. I told her that if necessary I would pay for some one else to do that work until we were married. Not that the chaps annoyed Rosa now that she was engaged, but I didn't like the idea of it.

Rebecca said Rosa was doing it of her own accord. She said she didn't know what had come over the girl. Rosa came upstairs, and when I told her not to go into the cafe, she said she'd do as she liked. She said she didn't want to go out that evening; would rather stay at home. We had words....

"I left in a huff, I suppose, and went back to the ship. I felt badly used. The Old Man came along to my room and spent a couple of hours telling me how that new mess-man had won ten thousand francs. There were all sorts of frills to the story as he knew it. One of the clerks at the agent's had told him that the man was an English milord. That was a bit of my brother's cleverness. He had registered at the _Bristol_ as Francis Lord. Of course, the papers had made the most of it.

"For two days I never went ash.o.r.e. I was annoyed at Rosa. You know, these little tiffs are inevitable, though I must say we'd managed without them up to this. I said to myself that when she wanted me again she could have me. The mood lasted two days. I began to get anxious. I couldn't rest. After all, we were engaged. The ship went home for survey next voyage, it was rumoured, and I had promised Rosa we should go together. I put on my sh.o.r.e-clothes and went up to Rebecca's. I went in to have a drink first, intending to go round to the private door afterwards. Just as I sat down Rebecca came in and saw me. She beckoned me to come inside. We went upstairs. 'What's the matter?' I said.

'Rosa!' says Rebecca. 'She went out this evening to meet you, she said, and she's not back yet.'

"For a moment I couldn't quite see the drift. Perhaps I'm slow. But then I realized what might have happened. I took my hat and ran downstairs.

Outside a carriage was crawling past. I jumped into it and told the man to drive all he knew to the _Bristol_. It's a stiff climb, but those two horses tore along the _Principe_, past the station, through _Piazza Caricamento_, up _Via Lorenzo_, full tilt. I jumped out and ran into the hotel and asked for the manager. I described my brother as well as I could. 'Yes, yes,' he said, 'that would be _Signore Lord_.' He had just paid his bill and gone. He was to get the Twenty-fifteen for Milan. The commissionaire said the _Signore Lord_ had driven to the _Brignole_ station, though he had been advised to go to the _Principe_, where he could get a better seat. I gave the man a franc and bolted out again.

'_Stazione Brignole_,' I told the man, and away we went. The 'Twenty-fifteen' would be there in about ten minutes. Five minutes later I was in the dreary, half-lighted, bare-looking waiting-room. There was only one person in sight. It was Rosa."

Mr. Carville paused and raised his head. We became aware of some one calling. I turned and beheld Mrs. Carville standing, her hands on her hips, at her door. She was calling to her husband in a clear, strong, vibrant voice. With a slight shrug, he rose.

"_Si, si, Rosa_," he replied equably, and then to us he smiled and, raising his hat, set it well over his eyes. He looked at his watch.

"Gee!" he said, "I must be off. I'll have to finish the yarn another time. Good day to you."

Looking down at his boots for a moment reflectively, and pocketing his pipe, he stepped down and walked sedately towards his house.

CHAPTER X

ANOTHER LETTER FROM WIGBOROUGH

For a few moments we sat still, oblivious of the flight of time. The afternoon sun threw long shadows across the road. Mrs. Wederslen flew past in her automobile, inclining her haughty southern head as she sat, erect and dominant, behind the steering-wheel. The rumble of the trolley-cars came up on the still air from the valley. My friend and I looked at each other and knocked out our pipes.

I do not think that, had we been left to ourselves, we would have broken the silence for a long time. Mr. Carville's retreat had been so sudden that we could scarcely realize he was gone, that we might not see him again for perhaps two months. Time was needed, moreover, for us to adjust our feelings towards him, to comprehend fully the peculiar circ.u.mstances that, while we had been listening to the story of Rosa, she herself had been in the next house. We had to connect the Genoese maiden with the reserved and taciturn neighbour who had given us food for so many conjectures. Nor would our resentment against Mr. Carville, for breaking off so abruptly, have taken the form of speech all at once.

We were too dazed. We wanted to think. We would not, I say, have broken the silence for a long time ourselves. But Miss Fraenkel's temperament was different, and in this case surprising.