The Vision Splendid Part 36

UNDER STRANGE CIRc.u.mSTANCES THE REBEL MAKES HIS BOW TO POLITE SOCIETY.

TAKING AN APPLE AS A TEXT, HE PREACHES ON THE RISE OF ADAM

Part 1

"Man overboard!"

Somebody on the liner sang it out. Instantly there was a rush of pa.s.sengers to the side. From the schooner a boat was being lowered and manned.

"I see him. He's swimming this way. I believe he's trying to escape,"

one slender young woman cried.

"Nonsense, Alice! He fell overboard and he's probably so frightened he doesn't know which way he is swimming." This suggestion was from the beautiful blonde with bronze hair who stood beside her under a tan parasol held by a fresh-faced globetrotter.

"Don't you believe it, Val. Look how he's cutting through the water.

He's trying to reach us. Oh, I hope they won't get him. Somebody get a rope to throw out."

"By Jove, you're right, Miss Alice," cried the Englishman. "It's a race, and it's going to be a near thing." He disappeared and was presently back with a rope.

"Come on! Come on!" screamed the pa.s.sengers to the swimmer.

"He's ripping strong with that overhead stroke. Ye G.o.ds, it's close!"

exclaimed the Britisher.

It was. The swimmer reached the side of the s.h.i.+p not four yards in front of the pursuing boat. He caught at the trailing rope and began to clamber up hand over hand, while the Englishman, a man standing near, and Alice Frome dragged him up.

The mate of the Nancy Hanks, standing up in the boat, caught at his foot and pulled. The man's hold loosened on the rope. He slid down a foot, steadied himself. Suddenly the left leg shot out and caught the grinning mate in the mouth. He went over backward into the bottom of the boat. Before he could extricate himself from the tangle his fall had precipitated, the dripping figure of the swimmer stood safely on the deck of the _Bellingham._

In his wet foul slops the man was a sight to draw stares. The cabin pa.s.sengers moved back to give him a wide circle, as men do with a wet retriever.

"What does this mean, my man?" demanded the captain of the _Bellingham,_ pus.h.i.+ng forward. He was a big red-faced figure with a heavy roll of fat over his collar.

"I have been shanghaied, sir. From Verden. I'm the editor of the _World_ of that city."

"That's a lie," proclaimed the mate of the _Nancy Hanks_, who by this time had reached the deck. "He's a nutty deckswabber we picked up at 'Frisco."

"Why, it's Mr. Farnum," cried a fresh young voice from the circle.

The rescued man turned. His eyes joined those of a slim golden girl and he was struck dumb.

"You know this man, Miss Frome?" the captain asked.

"I know him by sight." She stepped to the front. "There can't be any doubt about it. He's Mr. Farnum of Verden, the editor of the _World._"

"You're quite sure?"

"Quite sure, Captain Barclay. My cousin knows him, too."

The captain turned to Mrs. Van Tyle. She nodded languidly.

Barclay swung back to the mate of the _Nancy Hanks_. "I know your kind, my man, and I can tell you that I think the penitentiary would be the proper place for you and your captain, with my compliments to him."

"Better come and pay 'em yourself, sir," sneered the mate.

"Get off my deck, you dirty crimp," roared the captain. "Slide now, or I'll have you thrown off."

Mr. Jones made a hurried departure. Once in the boat, he shook his fist at Barclay and cursed him fluently.

The captain turned away promptly. "Mr. Farwell, if you'll step this way the steward will outfit you with some clothes. If they don't fit they'll do better than those togs you're wearing."

The English youth came forward with a suggestion. "Really, I think I can do better than that for Mr. Far--" He hesitated for the name.

"Farnum," supplied the owner of it.

"Ah! You're about my size, Mr. Farnum. If you don't mind, you know, you're quite welcome to anything I have."

"Thank you very much."

"Very well. Mr. Farwell--Farnum, I mean--shake hands with Lieutenant Beauchamp," and with the sense of duty done the worthy captain dismissed the new arrival from his mind.

Jeff bowed to Miss Frome and followed his broad-shouldered guide to a cabin. He was conscious of an odd elation that had not entirely to do with a brave adventure happily ended. The impelling cause of it was rather the hope of a braver adventure happily begun.

Part 2

"By Jove, I envy you, Mr. Farnum. Didn't know people bucked into adventures like that these tame days. Think of actually being shanghaied. It's like a novel. My word, the ladies will make a lion of you!"

The Englishman was dragging a steamer trunk from under his bed. It needed no second glance at his frank boyish face to divine him a friend worth having. Fresh-colored and blue-eyed, he looked very much the country gentleman Jeff had read about but never seen. It was perhaps by the gift of race that he carried himself with distinction, though the flat straight back and the good shoulders of the cricketer contributed somewhat, too. Jeff sized him up as a resolute, clean-cut fellow, happily endowed with many gifts of fortune to make him the likable chap he was.

Beauchamp threw out some clothes from a steamer trunk and left the rescued man alone to dress. Ten minutes later he returned.

"Expect you'd like an interview with the barber. I'll take you round. By the way, you'll let me be your banker till you reach Verden?"

"Thank you. Since I must."

From the barber shop the Englishman took him to the dining saloon.

"Awfully sorry you can't sit at our table, Mr. Farnum. It's full up.

You're to be at the purser's."

Jeff let a smile escape into his eyes. "Suits me. I've been at the bos'n's for several weeks."

"Beastly outrage. We'll want to hear all about it. Miss Frome's tremendously excited. Odd you and she hadn't met before. Didn't know Verden was such a big town."

"I'm not a society man," explained Jeff. "And it happens I've been fighting her father politically for years. Miss Frome and Mrs. Van Tyle are about the last people I would be likely to meet."

From his seat Jeff could see the cousins at the other end of the room.

They were seated near the head of the captain's table, and that officer was paying particular attention to them, perhaps because the _Bellingham_ happened to be one of a line of boats owned by Joe Powers, perhaps because both of them were very attractive young women. They were types entirely outside Farnum's very limited experience. The indolence, the sheathed perfection, the soft sensuous allure of the young widow seemed to Jeff a product largely of her father's wealth. But the charm of her cousin, with its sweet and mocking smile, its note of youthful austerity, was born of the fine and gallant spirit in her.

Beauchamp sat beside Miss Frome and the editor observed that they were having a delightful time. He wondered what they could be talking about.