Doctor Claudius, A True Story Part 19

"Skal to the Viking!" yelled old Sturleson, the Swedish captain, his sunburnt face glowing red with triumph as Claudius clapped the woollen cap over the mast-head.

"Well done, indeed, man!" bawled the Duke.

"Well," said Barker, "it was worth the money, anyhow."

There was a faint exclamation from the door of the after-cabin; but none of the three men heard it, nor did they see a horror-struck face, stony and wide-eyed, staring up at the mast-head, where the Doctor's athletic figure swayed far out over the water with the motion of the yacht. Time had flown, and the bright sunlight streaming down into the ladies' cabin had made Margaret long for a breath of fresh air; so that when Lady Victoria appeared, in all sorts of jersies and blue garments, fresh and ready for anything, the two had made common cause and ventured up the companion without any manly a.s.sistance. It chanced that they came out on the deck at the very moment when Claudius was accomplishing his feat, and seeing the three men looking intently at something aloft, Margaret looked too, and was horrified at what she saw. Lady Victoria caught her and held her tightly, or she would have lost her footing with the lurch of the vessel. Lady Victoria raised her eyes also, and took in the situation at a glance.

"Don't be afraid," she said, "he can take care of himself, no doubt. My brother used to be able to do it before he grew so big."

Claudius descended rapidly, but almost lost his hold when he saw Margaret leaning against the taffrail. He would not have had her see him for worlds, and there she was, and she had evidently witnessed the whole affair. Before he had reached the deck, the Duke had seen her too, and hastened to her side. She was evidently much agitated.

"How can you allow such things?" she said indignantly, her dark eyes flashing at him.

"I had nothing to say about it, Countess. But he did it magnificently."

Claudius had reached the deck, and eluding the compliments of Barker and Sturleson, hastened to the cuddy door, bowing to the ladies as he pa.s.sed. He meant to beat a retreat to his cabin. But Margaret was determined to call him to account for having given her such a fright.

"Dr. Claudius," said the voice that he loved and feared.

"Yes, Countess," said he, steadying himself by the door as the vessel lurched.

"Will you please come here? I want to speak to you." He moved to her side, waiting his chance between two seas. "Do you think you have a right to risk your life in such follies?" she asked, when he was close to her. The Duke and Lady Victoria were near by.

"I do not think I have risked my life, Countess. I have often done it before."

"Do you think, then, that you have a right to do such things in the sight of nervous women?"

"No, Countess, I pretend to no such brutality, and I am very sincerely sorry that you should have unexpectedly seen me. I apologise most humbly to you and to Lady Victoria for having startled you;" he bowed to the Duke's sister as he spoke, and moved to go away. He had already turned when Margaret's face softened.

"Dr. Claudius," she called again. He was at her side in a moment.

"Please do not do it again--even if I am not there." She looked at him; he thought it strange. But he was annoyed at the whole business, and really angry with himself. She had spoken in a low tone so that the others had not heard her.

"Countess," said he in a voice decidedly sarcastic, "I pledge myself never in future to ascend to the mast-head of any vessel or vessels without your express permission."

"Very well," said she coldly; "I shall keep you to your word." But Claudius had seen his mistake, and there was no trace of irony in his voice as he looked her steadfastly in the eyes and answered.

"Believe me, I will keep any promise I make to you," he said earnestly, and went away. Lady Victoria, who was not without tact, and had guessed that Margaret had something to say to the Doctor, managed meanwhile to keep her brother occupied by asking him questions about the exploit, and he, falling into the trap, had begun to tell the story from the beginning, speaking loud, by way of showing Claudius his appreciation.

But Claudius, recking little of his laurels, went and sat in his cabin, pondering deeply. Barker, from a distance, had witnessed the conversation between Margaret and the Doctor. He came up murmuring to himself that the plot was thickening. "If Claudius makes a corner in mast-heads, there will be a bull market," he reflected, and he also remembered that just now he was a bear. "In that case," he continued his train of thought, "no more mast-heads."

"Good morning, Countess; Lady Victoria, good morning," he said, bowing.

"I would take off my hat if I could, but the Doctor has set the cap of liberty on high." Lady Victoria and the Duke laughed, but Margaret said "Good morning" without a smile. Barker immediately abandoned the subject and talked about the weather, which is a grand topic when there is enough of it. It was clear by this time that they had pa.s.sed through a violent storm, which had gone away to southward. The sea was heavy of course, but the wind had moderated, and by twelve o'clock the yacht was running between nine and ten knots, with a stiff breeze on her quarter and all sails set.

The Duke was extremely attentive to Margaret all that day, rarely leaving her side, whether she was below or on deck; bringing her books and rugs, and adjusting her chair, and altogether performing the offices of a faithful slave and attendant. Whenever Claudius came within hail the Duke would make desperate efforts to be animated, lengthening his sentences with all the vigorous superlatives and sledge-hammer adverbs he could think of, not to mention any number of "you knows." His efforts to be agreeable, especially when there appeared to be any likelihood of Claudius coming into the conversation, were so palpable that Margaret could not but see there was a reason for the expenditure of so much energy. She could not help being amused, but at the same time she was annoyed at what she considered a bit of unnecessary officiousness on the part of her host. However, he was such an old friend that she forgave him. But woman's nature is impatient of control. Left to herself she would have avoided Claudius; forcibly separated from him she discovered that she wanted to speak to him. As the day wore on and the Duke's attentions never relaxed, she grew nervous, and tried to think how she could send him away. It was no easy matter. If she asked for anything, he flew to get it and returned breathless, and of course at that very moment Claudius was just out of range. Then she called Miss Skeat, but the Duke's eloquence redoubled, and he talked to them both at once; and at last she gave it up in despair, and said she would lie down for a while. Once safe in her stateroom, the Duke drew a long breath, and went in search of Mr. Barker. Now Mr. Barker, in consequence of the idea that had unfolded itself to his fertile brain in the darkness of night, had been making efforts to amuse Claudius all day long, with as much determination as the Duke had shown in devoting himself to the Countess, but with greater success; for Barker could be very amusing when he chose, whereas the Duke was generally most amusing when he did not wish to be so. He found them in the smoking cabin, Claudius stretched at full length with a cigarette in his teeth, and Barker seated apparently on the table, the chair, and the transom, by a clever distribution of the various parts of his body, spinning yarns of a high Western flavour about death's-head editors and mosquitoes with bra.s.s ribs.

The Duke was exhausted with his efforts, and refreshed himself with beer before he challenged Barker to a game.

"To tell the truth, Duke," he answered, "I don't seem to think I feel like winning your money to-day. I will go and talk to the ladies, and Claudius will play with you."

"You won't make much headway there," said the Duke. "The Countess is gone to bed, and Miss Skeat and my sister are reading English history."

"Besides," put in Claudius, "you know I never play."

"Well," said Barker, with a sigh, "then I will play with you, and Claudius can go to sleep where he is." They cut and dealt. But Claudius did not feel at all sleepy. When the game was well started he rose and went out, making to himself the same reflection that Margaret had made, "Why is my friend so anxious to amuse me to-day?" He seldom paid any attention to such things, but his strong, clear mind was not long in unravelling the situation, now that he was roused to thinking about it.

Barker had guessed the truth, or very near it, and the Duke and he had agreed to keep Claudius and Margaret apart as long as they could.

He went aft, and descended to the cabin. There sat Miss Skeat and Lady Victoria reading aloud, just as the Duke had said. He went through the pa.s.sage and met the steward, or butler, whom he despatched to see if the Countess were in the ladies' cabin. The rosy-cheeked, gray-haired priest of Silenus said her ladyship was there, "alone," he added with a little emphasis. Claudius walked in, and was not disappointed. There she sat at the side of the table in her accustomed place, dark and beautiful, and his heart beat fast. She did not look up.

"Countess," he began timidly.

"Oh, Doctor Claudius, is that you? Sit down." He sat down on the transom, so that he could see the evening light fall through the port-hole above him on her side face, and as the vessel rose and fell the rays of the setting sun played strangely on her heavy hair.

"I have not seen you all day," she said.

"No, Countess." He did not know what to say to her.

"I trust you are none the worse for your foolish performance this morning?" Her voice was even and unmodulated, not too friendly and not too cold.

"I am, and I am not. I am unspeakably the worse in that I displeased you. Will you forgive me?"

"I will forgive you," in the same tone.

"Do you mean it? Do you mean you will forgive me what I said to you that--the other night?"

"I did not say that," she answered, a little weariness sounding with the words. Claudius's face fell.

"I am sorry," he said very simply.

"So am I. I am disappointed in you more than I can say. You are just like all the others, and I thought you were different. Do you not understand me?"

"Not entirely, though I will try to. Will you not tell me just what you mean to say?"

"I think I will," she answered, looking up, but not towards Claudius.

She hesitated a moment and then continued, "We are not children, Dr.

Claudius; let us speak plainly, and not misunderstand each other." She glanced round the cabin as if to see if they were alone. Apparently she was not satisfied. "Move my chair nearer to the sofa, please," she added; and he rose and did her bidding.

"I have not much to say," she went on, "but I do not want to say it before the whole ship's company. It is this: I thought I had found in you a friend, a man who would be to me what no one has ever been--a friend; and I am disappointed, for you want to be something else. That is all, except that it must not be thought of, and you must go."

An Englishman would have reproached her with having given him encouragement; an Italian would have broken out into a pa.s.sionate expression of his love, seeking to kindle her with his own fire. But the great, calm Northman clasped his hands together firmly on his knee and sat silent.

"You must go--" she repeated.

"I cannot go," he said honestly.

"That is all the more reason why you should go at once," was the feminine argument with which she replied.

"Let us go back to two days ago, and be as we were before. Will you not forget it?"

"We cannot--you cannot, and I cannot. You are not able to take back your words or to deny them."