The Coast of Adventure

Walthew was smooth-faced, somewhat ingenuous, and marked by boyish humor, but Evelyn had noticed his athletic form, and thought he could be determined. He was no doubt proficient in sports that demanded strength and nerve. For all that, it was Grahame and his hawk-like look that her thoughts dwelt most upon, for something about him suggested that he had already found the adventures his comrade was seeking. He was a soldier of fortune, who had taken wounds and perhaps still bore their scars. She remembered the cool judgment he had shown when he came to her rescue.

Walthew disturbed her reflections.

"It will be some time before Andrew fixes your gaff, and there's no use in trying to hurry him," he said. "He's an artist in metal, and never lets up until he's satisfied with a job. So, as you must wait and we have a kettle on the forge below, I can offer you some tea and I'd like your opinion of the biscuit I've been baking for supper."

Evelyn felt doubtful. She was spending the afternoon in a way her mother would certainly not approve of, but she could not get ashore until the gaff was mended. Besides, it was pleasant to sit under the awning with the fresh sea breeze on her face and listen to the splash of the combers on the bows. Then she was interested in her companions. They were different from the rather vapid loungers she would have been talking to had she stayed at the hotel.

She let Walthew go and then turned to Grahame.

"Have you known your partner long?" she asked.

"No; I met him for the first time in New Orleans a few months ago."

"I asked because he's a type that I'm well acquainted with," Evelyn explained.

"And you would not have expected to find him cooking and cleaning engines on a boat like this?"

"No; they're rather unusual occupations for a conventionally brought up young American."

Grahame smiled.

"I understand that Walthew might have enjoyed all the comforts your civilization has to offer, but he preferred the sea. Perhaps I'm prejudiced, but I don't blame him. There's a charm in freedom and the wide horizon."

"Yes," she agreed thoughtfully, looking across the blue water; "I suppose that's true. If a man has the courage to break away, he can follow his bent. It's different with women. We're securely fenced in; our corral walls are high."

"They keep trouble out. Hardship and danger aren't pleasant things, and after a time the romance of the free-lance's life wears off. One sometimes looks longingly at the sheltered nooks that men with settled habits occupy."

"And yet you follow your star!"

"Star's too idealistic; my bent is better. What's born in one must have its way. This is perhaps most convenient when it's an inherited genius for making money."

"It's useful to oneself and others," Evelyn agreed. "But do these talents run in the blood?"

"It seems so," Grahame answered, and was quiet for a time, languidly watching the girl and wondering how far his statement was true.

It might be argued that the strongest family strains must be weakened by marriage, and their salient characteristics disappear in a few generations, but he felt strangely akin to the mosstroopers of his name who scourged the Scottish Border long ago. Their restlessness and lust of adventure were his. This, however, was not a matter of much consequence. Chance had thrown him into the company of a pretty and intelligent girl, and he must try to entertain her.

"You're fond of the sea and adventurous, or you wouldn't have driven that little sloop so far out under full sail," he said.

"Oh," she admitted, smiling, "that was partly because I wanted to show my skill and was ashamed to turn back when the breeze freshened."

Grahame laughed. He liked her frankness.

"After all," he said, "it's a feeling that drives a good many of us on. A weakness, perhaps, but it may be better than excessive caution."

"A matter of opinion. Of course, if you determine never to do anything foolish, you're apt to do nothing at all. But I'm afraid I can't throw much light upon these subjects… Here comes our tea."

It was drinkable, but Evelyn thought the biscuit could undoubtedly have been better. For all that, she enjoyed the meal, and when it was over Macallister appeared with the mended gaff.

"I'm thinking yon will never bend or jamb," he said, indicating the beautifully finished pieces of brass-work.

Evelyn thanked him, and soon afterward Grahame helped her into the boat and hoisted the reefed sail. The wind was still fresh, but the sloop ran shoreward safely, with the sparkling seas ranging up on her quarter, and Grahame admired the grace of the neat, blue-clad figure at the helm. The rushing breeze and the flying spray had brought a fine color into the girl's face and a brightness to her eyes.

As they neared the beach, a gasolene launch came plunging out to meet them, and Evelyn laughed as she turned to Grahame.

"I've been missed at last," she said. "That's my father coming to look for me."

The launch swung round close alongside and Grahame recognized that he was being subjected to a keen scrutiny by a man on board. The broken water, however, made explanations impossible, and the launch followed the sloop to the inlet, where Evelyn neatly brought the craft up to the landing. On getting ashore, she spoke to Cliffe, and he thanked Grahame and invited him to the hotel. Grahame politely declined, but agreed to borrow the launch to take him on board.

As he was leaving, Evelyn held out her hand.

"It was fortunate that my difficulties began when I was near your boat, and I don't altogether regret them. I have spent a pleasant afternoon," she said.

Grahame bowed and turned away; but somewhat to his surprise, he found his thoughts return to his guest as the launch carried him back to the steamer. The girl was cultured and intelligent, perhaps a little romantic, and unspoiled by luxury; but this was nothing to him. There were times when he felt lonely and outcast from his kind, for until he met Walthew his comrades had generally been rough and broken men. Some years ago he had been a favorite with well-bred women; but he never met them on terms of friendship now. He was poor, and would no doubt remain so, since he had not the gift of making money; but an untrammeled, wandering life had its advantages.

With a smile at his brief relapse into sentiment, he resolved to forget Miss Cliffe; but he found it strangely difficult to occupy his mind with calculations about stores for the coming voyage.

Evelyn related her adventure to her mother, who listened with strong disapproval. Mrs. Cliffe was a thin, keen-eyed woman, with social ambitions and some skill in realizing them.

"If you hadn't been so rash as to go out alone, this wouldn't have happened," she remarked. "You must really be more careful."

"I couldn't prevent the gaff's jambing," Evelyn replied.

"That is not what I meant. After all, nobody in the hotel knows much about the matter, and there is, of course, no need to do more than bow to the men if you meet them at the landing, though it would be better to avoid this, if possible. A small favor of the kind they did you does not justify their claiming your acquaintance."

"Father wanted to bring one of them here."

"Your father is a man of business, and has very little discretion in social matters," Mrs. Cliffe replied. "If Reggie cannot go with you, take the hotel boatman when you next go sailing."

Evelyn did not answer, but she disagreed with the views her mother had expressed, and she resolved to leave Reggie ashore. For one thing, he was not of much use in a boat. Yet it was curious that she had once been pleased to take him out.

CHAPTER V

THE CALL OF THE UNKNOWN

The sea breeze had fallen, and the air was hot and still. A full moon rested low in the eastern sky, and against its light the tops of the royal palms cut in feathery silhouette. Evelyn was sitting in the hotel garden with Reginald Gore. A dusky rose arbor hid them from the veranda, where a number of the guests had gathered, but Evelyn imagined that one or two of the women knew where she was and envied her. This once would have afforded her some satisfaction, but it did not matter now, and although the spot seemed made for confidential talk, she listened quietly to the rollers breaking on the beach. The roar of the surf had a disturbing effect; she felt that it called, urging her to follow her star and launch out on the deep. Her companion was silent, and she wondered what he was thinking about, or if, as seemed more likely, his mind was vacant. She found him irritating to-night.

Gore was the finished product of a luxurious age: well-bred, well-taught, and tastefully dressed. His father had made a fortune out of railroad stock, and although Reginald had not the ability to increase it, he spent it with prudence. He had a good figure, and a pleasant face, but Evelyn suspected that his highest ambition was to lounge through life gracefully.

Evelyn knew her mother's plans regarding him, and had, to some extent, fallen in with them. Reggie had much that she valued to offer, but she now and then found him tiresome. He stood for the luxurious, but, in a sense, artificial life, with which she was growing dissatisfied. She felt that she wanted stirring, and must get into touch with the real things.

"You're not talkative," she remarked, watching the lights of the Enchantress that swung and blinked with the tossing swell.

"No," he agreed good-humoredly. "Doesn't seem to be much to talk about."

There was silence for a few moments; then Evelyn put into words a train of thoughts that was forming indistinctly in her mind.

"You have never done anything very strenuous in life. You have had all the pleasure money can provide one. Are you content?"