The Harris-Ingram Experiment Part 8

"Perfectly beautiful," exclaimed several ladies. "There," said the purser, as four bells rang out and the gong for dinner sounded, "the sun is kissing the waves." Before any one could answer, the gorgeous sun was slowly sinking into the blue waters of the Northern Atlantic. Pa.s.sengers held their watches and in three minutes the sun had said farewell.

The dinner was much enjoyed. After an evening of charming moonlight, midnight found all, save those on duty, asleep in the "Majestic," which was speeding rapidly towards the safe granite docks at Liverpool.

Moonlight at sea is so bewitching, the wonder is that pleasure-seekers ever consent to land except when denied the companionship of the silver G.o.ddess of night. Whether she races with the clouds, silver tips the waves, or with her borrowed light floods the world with fairy-like beauty, it is only that her admirers may exchange sorrow for joy and conflict for peace.

The sixth day out, the sun illumined a clear sky, and those that loved the sea were early on deck for exercise and fresh air. These early risers were well repaid, as the steamer was pa.s.sing through a great school of porpoises that sometimes venture long distances from the British Islands.

Alfonso ran to rap at Lucille's door and she hurried on deck to enjoy the sight. Hundreds of acres of the ocean were alive with porpoises or sea hogs as sailors often call them.

Porpoises average five feet in length and are the size of a small boy and quite as playful. These animals are smooth, and black or gray in color, except the under side which is pure white. They are gregarious and very sociable in their habits. Porpoises race and play with each other and dart out of the sea, performing almost as many antics as the circus clown. They feed on mackerel and herring, devouring large quant.i.ties. Years ago the porpoise was a common and esteemed article of food in Great Britain and France, but now the skin and blubber only have a commercial value. The skins of a very large species are used for leather or boot-thongs.

The early risers were standing on the prow of the steamer where the cut.w.a.ter sent constantly into the air a nodding plume of white spray.

Suddenly the watch shouted, "Whale ahead, sir!" Officers and sailors were astir. Just ahead, and lying in the pathway of the steamer lay a whale, fifty feet in length, seemingly asleep, for he was motionless. The officer's first thought was that he would slack speed, but presence of mind prompted him to order full speed, planning no doubt, if the whale was obstinate, to cut him in halves.

Lucille and others, fearful of consequences, turned and ran, but the leviathan suddenly dropped down out of sight, his broad tail splashing salt water into the faces of the young people who were bold enough to await events. With a sense of relief, Leo exclaimed, "Narrow escape, that!"

"Narrow escape for whom?" Alfonso inquired.

"For both the steamer and the whale," replied Lucille.

On the way to breakfast, Lucille asked an officer if similar instances frequently happened.

"Rarely," he replied, but added, "very likely we may see other whales in this vicinity." Sure enough, after breakfast, children ran up and down the deck shouting, "Whales! Whales!" and several were seen a mile or two north of the ship's course, where they sported and spouted water.

About four o'clock, the temperature having fallen several degrees, the pa.s.sengers sighted to the northeast a huge iceberg in the shape of an arch, bearing down on the steamer's course, and had it been night, possibly freighted with all the horrors of a ship-wreck. As it was, Captain Morgan deemed it wise to lessen the speed as the ship approached the iceberg.

"This is wonderful, Leo," said Mrs. Harris; "can you tell us where and when icebergs are formed?"

"Oh yes, Mrs. Harris, icebergs that float down the Atlantic are born on the west coast of Greenland. Up there great valleys are filled with snow and ice from hill-top to hill-top, reaching back up the valleys, in some instances from thirty to forty miles. This valley-ice is called a 'Mer de Glace,' and has a motion down the valley, like any river, but of three feet more or less only per day. If time enough is allowed, vast quant.i.ties of this valley-ice move into the gulf or sea. When the sea is disturbed by a storm the ice wall or precipice is broken off, and enormous ma.s.ses, often a hundred times larger than a big building, fall and float away with the report of the firing of a park of artillery, and these floating mountains of ice are lighted in their lonely pathways by the midnight sun."

Before dinner, came the regular promenade which presented many contrasts.

A pretty bride from the Blue Gra.s.s Region of Kentucky walked with her young husband whom she had first met at a New England seaside. She was glad to aid in bridging the chasm between north and south. Her traveling dress of blue was appropriately trimmed with gray.

The gorgeously dressed gambler walked on the deck alone. Then came two modest nuns dressed in gray and white. Alfonso and his mother, the judge and Lucille, and a group of little children followed. Dr. Argyle and a Philadelphia heiress kept step. Everybody walked, talked, and laughed, and the pa.s.sengers had little need of the ship's doctor now. If the weather is fair the decks are always enlivened as a steamer approaches land. The next day, by noon at latest, Ireland and Fastnet Rock would be sighted, if the ship's reckoning had been correct.

After dinner, Dr. Argyle was walking the deck with Lucille in the star-light. He had told her much of his family, of his talented brother in the Church, and of another in the army; he had even ventured to speak of Lucille's grace of manner, and she feared what might follow.

The call of Mrs. Harris relieved Lucille of an unpleasant situation.

Secretly, Lucille was pleased to escape from Dr. Argyle. Something in his manner told her that he was not sincere; that he was a schemer, perhaps a fortune-seeker, and she gladly rejoined her mother.

Mrs. Harris and her children often wondered how matters were progressing at home. Alfonso had faith in his father's ability to cope with the strike, but Mrs. Harris and Lucille were much worried. "Don't let us trouble," said Alfonso, "till we reach Queenstown, as there we shall surely get a cablegram from father."

Just then Leo joined the family, and Lucille taking his arm, the two walked the deck, and later they found quiet seats in the moonlight. The moon's welcome rays revealed fleece-like clouds overhead and changed the waters astern into acres of diamonds. Gentle breezes fanned the cheeks of two troubled lovers who thus far had kept well their heart secrets.

Lucille's warm and sensitive nature yearned for some confidant in whom she could find consolation. Mrs. Harris never quite understood her daughter. Lucille was n.o.ble, generous, and true in her affection. Her ideal of marriage was that the busy shuttle of life must be of Divine guidance, and often she was at a loss to understand some of the deep mysteries that had clouded her own life. Of this world's blessings her life had been full, except she could not reconcile some of her late experiences. Of this, of course, Leo knew nothing. He too had had a cup of bliss dashed suddenly to the ground. A moment of anger had destroyed his plans for life. The moon's soft light changed Leo's purpose never to speak to Lucille of his affection for Rosie Ricci, and he now frankly told her the whole story.

At first Lucille did not wish to believe that Leo had ever been in love, as her own heart had turned to him in the silent hours of the night when the pain in her heart forbade sleep.

Trembling she said, "Leo, you have given Rosie up forever then?"

"Oh no, Miss Harris, it was Rosie who said to me, 'Good-bye, Leo, forever.' She accepted my attentions for a year. Alas! Rosie's love for the rich man's gold I fear was more powerful than her love for me, a poor artist, and so she threw back the ruby ring and my mother's cameo, and crushed my heart and hopes. In accepting the kind invitation of your brother to accompany your family on this trip, I hoped that the journey might heal my suffering soul."

"I am delighted," said Lucille, her voice and hand still trembling a little, "that your own vow was not broken."

Leo's olive complexion was softened in the moon's rays, his face was saddened by the recital of his deep affliction, and his dark eyes were lowered, as he looked out upon the troubled pathway of the steamer. For a moment Lucille earnestly gazed at Leo who seemed to her to be handsome and n.o.ble, but he appeared lost as in a dream. Every man is thought to be n.o.ble by the woman who loves him. Then she took both his hands in hers in pity and said, "Leo, be brave as your ancestors were brave. You will be a success in the world because you have remaining your intense love for art."

"Yes, Lucille, and I think I shall marry art only."

"Don't be rash, Leo, we frail human beings know little in advance as to heaven's plans."

Few forces work truer in nature than the principle that like begets like.

Leo confided in Lucille, and now Lucille confided in Leo; she slowly told in low voice the story of her own great disappointment.

"I too, once had an ideal lover. Our souls were one; the day of wedding even had been fixed; orders for an expensive trousseau had been sent to Paris; the details of the marriage had been arranged, a long journey abroad planned, and the city for our future home was selected. These things had become part of my dreams, and the joy of antic.i.p.ation was filling my cup to the brim.

"One evening, in the moonlight, such as now smiles upon us, I asked Bernard if he would read a short note which I had just received, and tell me if its contents were true. Bernard removed the letter from the envelope, looked at the signature, and reading turned pale. The note was from a lady who asked if I was aware that he had offered himself to another.

"A second time I pressed the question to know if the contents were true, and he answered, 'Yes', and added that it was not his fault that he did not marry the lady.

"'Then you love her still, Bernard?'

"'Yes, Lucille, but I love you also.'

"In anger and disappointed love I left him. Of course all plans for the marriage were cancelled at once. 'First love or none,' was then written on my heart, where it still remains."

Lucille wept while Leo sat surprised. He knew not what to say, for her heart-story and heart edict, "First love or none," had opened his own wounds afresh, and had shut the door to Lucille's heart perhaps forever.

"Come, Lucille," a call of Mrs. Harris, aroused the courage of Leo, and he said to Lucille, who with a flushed face looked more beautiful than ever, "At least we should be friends." "Yes," she murmured, and Mrs.

Harris and her daughter retired.

The night before, the second officer had told Lucille that land would probably be seen early next day on the port-side. All the morning, Mrs.

Harris was awaiting anxiously more news about the great strike at Harrisville.

"Land, on the port-side, sir!" shouted the forward lookout, just as four bells struck the hour of ten o'clock. The officer on duty, pacing the bridge, raised his gla.s.s and in a moment he answered, "Ay! Ay! The Skelligs."

"What do they mean?" inquired Mrs. Harris of a sailor pa.s.sing. "The officer has sighted land, madam. Don't you see the specks of blue low down on the horizon to the northeast? That's the Skelligs, three rocky islets off the southwest coast of Ireland, near where I was born, and where my wife Katy, and the babies live. That's where my dear old mother also keeps watch for her Patsie."

"Is your name Patsie?" Alfonso asked.

"Yes, sir, Patsie Fitzgerald, and I'm proud of my name, my family, the Emerald Isle, and the fine steamer that's taking us safely home, and may G.o.d bless all you fine people, and keep my wife and babies and my dear old mother!"

"Thank you!" said Alfonso, "here, Patsie, is a little money for the babies," and the sailor tipped his hat and bowed his thanks.

The signal officer on Brea Head, Valentia Island, was soon exchanging signals with the "Majestic," and five minutes later the sighting of the "Majestic" was cabled to the Lloyds of Liverpool and London and back to New York, via Valentia Bay, and it was known that evening in Harrisville that the Harris family were safely nearing Queenstown.

Travelers experience delightful feelings as the old world is approached for the first time. All that has been read or told, and half believed, is now felt to be true, and you are delighted that you are so soon to see for yourself the "Mother Islands," and Europe which have peopled the western world with sons and daughters.

With the precision of the New York and Jersey City ferries the ocean steamers enter the harbors of the old and new world. On the southwestern coast of Ireland is Bantry Bay, memorable in history as having been twice entered by the French navy for the purpose of invading Ireland. In sight is Valentia, the British terminus of the first Atlantic cable to North America, also the terminus of the cables laid in 1858, 1865, and 1866, and of others since laid. The distance is 1635 miles from Valentia Bay to St. John, Newfoundland.

From the deck of the steamer, Ireland seems old and worn. Her rocky capes and mountainous headlands reach far into the ever encroaching Atlantic like the bony fingers of a giant. Fastnet Rock lighthouse on the right, telling the mariner of half-sunken rocks, and Cape Clear on the left, soon drop behind.