Polly's Southern Cruise

As Mr. Dalken reached this part of his story Elizabeth gave a shudder and exclaimed in a horror-stricken tone: “Oh, Daddy! How can you be so ordinary as to speak of such horrible things? Any one would think you were just common. What does it matter to us whether these plebeian seamen drink tea or salt water, as long as we are not subjected to their coarse modes of living?”

Mr. Dalken turned to stare at Elizabeth, and his frown should have warned her of further pursuing such a line of condemnation. But Elizabeth was bent on punishing her father for having made her – so she deemed it – the laughing stock of his friends by sending in a doctor who gave her licorice water to cure a serious attack of cerebral neuritis, though Elizabeth was not quite sure what such a dreadful disease was.

“You have forgotten, I suppose, because of the recent years of your not associating with the best society, that subjects of food are not considered permissible. But the very idea of any one in my class of friends, daring to broach a story such as you just began – all about vermin – would have instantly caused him to be excluded from us,” concluded she.

Polly stared unbelievingly at the girl who dared say such things to a father; and the others in the group who considered themselves intimate friends of Mr. Dalken’s, could not but interpret the insolent girl’s speech as personal affronts: had they not been her father’s closest associates for the past few years? The society which she daringly condemned as not being good for him?

What may have been the result of this indiscreet speech from Elizabeth could not be said, but Mrs. Courtney, in her wisdom, instantly rose to the call for immediate action of some sort. The Captain had just announced a “change of watch on board.” She caught at the idea.

“Oh, oh! Mr. Dalken! The Captain is about to change the watch. Cannot you take us there and explain how this interesting act is accomplished?” As she spoke the wily woman sprang from her chair, and took two or three eager steps in the direction of the group of sailors now appearing before the Captain.

Instantly all the other members in the circle seated at the tea table sprang up, only too thankful to catch at a straw by which to save the situation. Mr. Dalken also rose and led the way down the promenade deck in the direction of the Captain. Elizabeth remained in her chair, shrugging her shoulders in a decidedly French manner.

Having heard the Captain explain how changes of watch were made on vessels, the group of friends eagerly accepted his offer to conduct them over the entire yacht. They were introduced to the chef who had been called the “Shink” by the Swedish boy. They met and felt an interest in the overgrown, inexperienced youth of fifteen who seemed like a hearty man of twenty-five. He grinned sheepishly when Polly selected him to address her admiration of his qualities of seamanship – as the Captain had explained it.

Then they were introduced to the capable young Belgian waiter, Johann, who was always well-bred and attentive.

Shink, the Chinese cook, felt so nattered by the visit of many pretty women to his domain that his rather incomprehensible manner of speaking English became choked and jumbled. Such a medley of consonants and vowels as he poured forth in a continuous flood by his twisting tongue, caused his visitors to gasp in breathless amazement. In his endeavors to show “Honorable Boss Fren’s” all the courtesy due their Most Honorable Selves, Shink bowed and chattered, even after the Most Honorable Party had gone.

Unfortunately for the Oriental’s peace of mind, and the welfare of the Swede the latter had stepped outside the kitchen to make more room for the visitors. As the group of Mr. Dalken’s guests were leaving the kitchen by another door from that entered by them, a great crash of china was heard by the excitable Shink. He leaped to the door and discovered the cause. Poor Wooden-top, as the Swedish lad was nicknamed by his associates, in turning to gaze after the receding form of Polly to whom his heart was forever lost, had stubbed his toe against the raised door sill. The heavy tray of dishes which he had been carrying aloft went flying through the door to smash as best suited each individual dish against the opposite wall.

Elizabeth was not to be seen when the inspecting party returned to the lounging place on deck. But it was soon ascertained that she had retired to her own room after her friends had left her.

That evening was a merry one. Dancing and other diversions were enjoyed by the younger members of the party, and cards were played by the older ones, to the entire satisfaction of both groups. The sea was as calm as a sheet of glass, but the Captain foretold a storm, though this was hard to believe when one gazed at the wonderful starlit sky and felt the clearness of the atmosphere.

“The Captain says we will soon be off the coast of Florida, if we keep up this speed,” ventured Polly, who had stood with the man in charge of the yacht for a long time that evening after dinner.

“And there I shall have to leave you,” whispered Tom, in a moody tone of voice.

“You should be thankful that you were granted this lovely visit with Mr. Dalken’s friends,” returned Polly, purposely misinterpreting his meaning. She hoped to steer Tom away from his constant harping on his love for her, and demanding her sympathy in his distress over it.

The temperature had become so balmy and delightful in the latitudes the yacht had reached, that it was a pleasure to sit on deck or walk about while thinking of the sleety, penetratingly cold air in New York City. Tom, anxious to make the most of his fast-ending visit on board the vessel, coaxed Polly to go with him and watch the moon rise over the quiet sea.

With a desperate glance behind – much as Lot’s wife must have given after leaving Sodom to its fate – Polly sighed and agreed. There seemed to be no other alternative. Eleanor and Ruth Ashby had vanished soon after the last dance had ended, Nancy was deep in a new novel, Elizabeth was in her own room, and the rest were playing a new game of cards proposed by Mrs. Ashby.

Tom, elated at his success in securing Polly’s undivided company upon such a glorious night, walked with her to a cosy nook he had found in the stern of the vessel. Here, seated upon luxurious chairs which he had commandeered from the lounge, he felt that any girl should be willing to watch the frothy wash of the water from the rapid cleaving of the yacht through its surface, and listen to an ardent lover who had much to say in a very short space of time.

But Polly thought otherwise. She was willing to watch the churning water thrown this side and that by the stern of the boat, and she was eager to see the moon rise from the horizon of the sea, but she was not keen about hearing, again, the oft-repeated story of Tom’s love and his heartache because she would not reciprocate such love.

Just as long as Tom kept to general topics of conversation, Polly smiled and showed an interest in him. But let him launch his love story even in the least possible manner, and she instantly sat up and changed the subject to one of the weather, the moon, or the landing at Jacksonville, where they were to find friends awaiting the yacht.

Tom finally rebelled at such treatment.

“Polly, you are cruel, and you know it! Here it has been many, many long weeks since Christmas, when you showed me enough heart to make me believe that you truly loved me. But you froze up again, the next day, and since then you try to make yourself and others believe that you consider me only in the light of a good friend. If it takes serious illness or adversity to rouse your love, I’ll do something desperate to prove you!” Tom’s threat sounded ominous.

“Tom, I really think you are mentally deranged. I’ve told you over and again, that I shall take ample time to weigh my future life. It’s not going to be a case of ‘marry in haste; repent at leisure.’ I have wanted to travel and see the world, and now that I have the opportunity, it is sheer selfishness on your part to try to dissuade me from such joy and pleasure.”

“Oh, Polly! I am the least selfish lover in the world. I tag on at your heels and never receive any mark of your affection. Why, you scarcely deign to notice me, when other admirers are at hand.”

“That’s not true, but I do try to show them the same attention and consideration that any sensible girl ought to. I have said emphatically that I am not to be considered as having been captured by you, and the fact that I have to assert myself to prove it to our friends may make you think it is as you say. It is your fault that this is so. I prefer to be impartial and not give myself all the extra trouble to act as I feel, entirely free and glad to dance or enjoy the society of other young men besides yourself.”

Tom made no reply, but sat staring gloomily out over the water. Polly sent him a side glance and thought to herself: “There, that frank statement ought to hold him for a time, at least!”

The two felt that their tête-à-tête had best end before it terminated in the usual disagreement regarding love. The sky became mottled with beautiful drifting clouds which formed slowly into the long, scaly appearance of what is known as a “mackerel sky.” The smoothness of the sea had become a choppy, complaining surface of murmuring wavelets. The color reflected from the brooding sky had turned the glassy waters into a grey ominous sheet.

Almost within the shaft of light coming from the saloon lights, Polly and Tom came face to face with the Captain. He saluted and said: “Better get ready for a turn to-night. I’ve just been warning Mr. Dalken, but he seems to think I am borrowing trouble. If you listen to me, you will tie yourselves in bed in order to spare yourselves being rolled out unceremoniously before dawn.”

Polly laughed and thanked the amiable Captain, and Tom stood for a moment after the officer had left them, and stared out at the sullen sea.

“It looks perfectly calm,” remarked Tom.

“Looks often belie the true condition underneath,” returned Polly, precociously. Tom looked at her and laughed appreciatively.

In the saloon the young people were trying some of the new popular songs of New York. But their efforts met with little success, and Tom interrupted them with his comments.

“Don’t tease the storm to descend any sooner by this wailing. The Captain says we shall all be satisfied with enough groaning and screaming from the sea and sky long before morning.”

The Captain’s warning fell unheeded, however, except by Polly who felt intuitively that the change she had seen creeping over the sky and surface of the sea foreboded no good. Therefore, she persuaded Eleanor, that night, to place ready at hand her booties and a heavy ulster. She did the same.

“But why the ulster, Polly?” asked Eleanor in amazement.

“Because, should we have a terrific blow as oft times happens in these tropical latitudes, it will be well worth going up on the deck. And we will need a heavy storm-proof coat to keep us dry.”

It was past eleven o’clock when the party on the yacht broke up and every one said good-night to every one. It was not yet twelve when Polly advised Eleanor to keep her booties and wraps at hand in case she wanted to don them in a hurry, and it was only a few minutes past twelve when, both girls, having jumped into bed, heard a strange soughing of the wind and immediately following that, the confused shouts of the Captain and his mates to the sailors on board. Both girls felt the rise of the sea by the way the yacht dipped and careened as if at the mercy of the storm.

“There! The Captain was right when he warned us of this,” murmured Polly, turning about in order to get out of her bed.

The shouting and excitement on deck continued and Eleanor decided it might be interesting for her to follow Polly’s example and dress hurriedly in order to investigate the cause of all the commotion. Before she could reach out to take her stockings and shoes, however, she was thrown violently against the wall at the back of her bed. Polly, too, was tumbled willy nilly up against the wash stand.

“Well! I neve – !” began Eleanor, but she never completed her exclamation of dismay. Such a roar and rumble from all sides, and such shouting and shrieking, drove all ideas from her active brain.

The shouts came from the officers outside, the shrieks from Elizabeth who occupied the neighboring cabin.

Hail, great volumes of water, and bits of debris were hurtled against the glass in the portholes, and at the same time the awful rolling and tossing of the vessel added dismay to braver hearts than that of the spoiled darling of a foolish mother in New York.

The storm drove the yacht straight southward, which was fortunate; also it was a fortunate matter that the Captain had foreseen this change in weather and had prepared for it in time. What he had not expected, and an unusual experience it was, was the cloud-burst which followed the advance signals of the hurricane.

Polly and Eleanor had managed to get into their heavy storm coats and shoes, and were prepared to leave their room and watch events when the sound of a heavy metal grating against the door of the corridor which opened into the living room of the yacht, made them exchange glances.

“That sounds as if we were prisoners. It must have been the iron bar that the Captain said they used when there was danger of the heavy seas breaking the doors open,” said Polly.

“All the more reason why I should wish to be out and get the benefit of such a storm,” ventured Eleanor.

“And all the more reason why I shall hold you indoors,” instantly retorted Polly.

Eleanor laughed. “Yet you were the one to suggest that I get out my coat and shoes, to be ready to hurry out and watch the storm should it come our way.”

“I had no idea that we were bound to run head first into a hurricane, or a tidal wave! I meant a simple, little old-fashioned gale.”