Jasper County Democrat, Volume 2, Number 48, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 3 March 1900 — AN AMERICANGIRL ABROAD. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

AN AMERICANGIRL ABROAD.

BY WILLIAM BLACK.

CHAPTER XVII.

What the Sharpness people had been warning ua about we were by-and-by to discover. “The Shoots,” aa they are called, are formed by the sudden contraction of the Severn estuary between Northwich and Portskewet, and consist of a aeries of races and whirlpools not unlike those In the neighborhood of Corrieverchan —over by the Corra Islands and the Doras Mor. When we found these currents strong enough to grip the pilot boat by the bows and yaw her about, it is to be imagined that our poor old Noah’s ark, lumbering up in the rear, had anything but a “daisy time” of it. Moreover, the water became more and more lumpy—what with the swirling currents themselves, and the breeze blowing against the tide, the “Nameless Barge” began to forsake her heavy gambolings for all kinds of mystical and unexpected gyrations; and again and again ominous noises told of catastrophes within. It was blowing hard, and looking very dirty in the south; and one of us, at least, began to wish that the two women could be transferred to the other boat. The pilots themselves no longer seemed to regard this performance ns a joke; they kept an eye on our unwieldly craft, as she plunged through the heavily running sea. Indeed, it was almost ludicrous to watch this misshapen thing dipping her nose in the water and springing forward again, and dashing the foam from her bows just as if she were a real yacht; and the only question was, how long she was likely to keep up the pretense by remaining silent. Presently a new and startling discovery was made. As there was no calculating what time we should get to Bristol, with this head wind driving against us, the steersman desired Jack Duncombe to go Inside and bring forth a handful of biscuits; and the young man cheerfully obeyed. The next instant he came out again, without any biscuits. "I say,” he exclaimed, with a curious expression of face, “this blessed boat is full of waterl" In a moment, from the look of the women, he perceived the mistake he had aaade. "Oh, no; not that,” he protested, “but a little water has come in and it's Slopping all about the floor of the saloon. Here, you’d better let me take the tiller for a minute, and you can go and look for yourself.” Of course, we all of us instantly made for the door of the saloon; and there a most unpleasant spectacle met our eyes; for if there was not as yet much water visible, It was washing from side to side as the vessel lurched; and, of course, no one could tell at what rate the leakage was coming in. “Is she going to sinkT* said Miss Peggy, Ather breathlessly; it was Sir Ewen Cameron she addressed. “I won’t stay another moment in this boat,” Mrs. Threepenny-bit exclaimed. "You must call to the pilots—tell them to stop and take us on board.” “Oh, be quiet!” one had to say to her. "ThiF Is nothing of a leakage—it only means that there’s nowhere for the water to go to.” “And how fast is it coming in?” she asked. “How can anybody tell? We’ll have to wait and watch. Or, rather, Columbus must come inside and watch; and if the water should rise in any quantity, then we may have to get on board the pilot boat; that’s all. It isn’t doing any harm —it’s only washing the floor.” Here a violent pitch of the boat flung us all together; and then we could see through the forward window her bows shaking off a great mass of foam. "Do you see that now? She isn’t used to dipping her nose like that.” Well, It has to be conceded to Col. Cameron that he was the only one who cared to wet his ankles in order to make an examination. He boldly splashed through the lurching water and got to the further end of the saloon, and, stooping down, strove to reach with his long arm the circular pieces of glass set in the bows of the boat. But neither there nor anywhere else could we find out the source of the leakage; and when Capt. Columbus .wap summoned from his post and shown the state of affairs it was generally agreed that the water must be coming in through defective seams. Our gallant convoy continued to cut her way through those swift-running seas like a racer; and we laboriously plunged and rolled and struggled after. It must be said for the women that they were very brave over it; after that first fright about the water in the saloon they had hardly a word to say; they merely looked on in silencer-sitting close to each other. And now that long, dark spur of land— Portiahead Point, was it called?—was drawing sensibly nearer. The shipping that was gradually becoming visible no doubt marked the whereabouts of the King; or King’s, road; and that, we knew, was just off the mouth of the Avon. Then the sea grew a little calmer. Capt. Columbus was provided With a huge sponge to help him in his bailing. We could hear Murdoch at the bow calling to his brother mariners ahead of him —asking for instructions, most probably. And at length and at last the connecting hawser was shipped, and we parted company. We found ourselves at anchor in a comparatively smooth sheet of yellow water, and near to a Dutch looking line of coast,'the topmasts of vessels, or here and there a little glimmer of distant landscape, appearing above steep banks of “New, Miss Peggy, you and 1 expect to bo waited upon by the whole of this ship’s crew and passengers. We have Ytoea en duty since half-past two, and now it is ton. If that isn’t working for one’s breakfast, what is?” “HE sure Pa hungry enough,” said MiaaJPeggy. sadly; and > Ti i ta »*» Mtf ba«MC te BeTtkTtebte ready, while ■

Murdoch was in the pantry, busy with ham and eggs and tea. Now, we had just finished breakfast, and had gone out again to have a look at our surroundings, when we were approached by a wherry containing three men, who offered, for a consideration, to tow us to Bristol. Truth compels the admission that these three sailors of Bristol city were about the most villainous looking set of scoundrels one had ever clapped eyes on; and experience proved that they were capable of acting up to their looks. But still, getting to Bristol was the main thing; we agreed to their exorbitant terms, gave them a line, and away they went, we following. Soon we had entered the river Avon, which is probably a rather full river at full tide, but was now, at low water, showing long mud banks that were far from attractive. As we got further inland, however, we passed through beautiful woods, now almost in full summer foliage; and, whatever had become of the storm we had seen gathering in the south, there were clear blue skies overhead, and a warm sunlight filling the river valley. As we were leisurely getting along to our hotel on the College Green Col. Cameron hung back a little, allowing Jack Duncombe to go on with the women folk. “Look here, my friend,” said Inverfask, in something of an undertone; “now it’s all over, I suppose you ought to be congratulated on having come down the Severn in a houseboat, and in the face of half a gale of wind. Well, you’ve done it—successfully—for once. But, if I were you, I wouldn’t try it again.”

CHAPTER XVIII. Next morning is a Sunday—calm and clear and still; a placid sunlight falls on the trees in the College Green, on the pavements, and the closed shop windows; a soft sound of church bells fills all the tranquil air. And then, when our women folk, accompanied by Col. Cameron, have gone away to the cathedral a kind of hush falls over this great hotel; the spacious rooms look preternaturally empty; one wonders when Jack Duncombe will have finished his letter writing, and be ready to set forth on a hunt for the whereabouts of the "Nameless Barge." Presently he comes along into the hall. “Sorry to have kept you waiting,” he says, as he lights a cigar at the top of the steps. “Fact is, I had rather an important letter to write.” But after a long hunting we at length discovered the "Nameless Barge,” in a kind of cul-de-sac, lying outside some empty coal boats; and, having clambered over these and got on board, we found Murdoch in sole possession. “Well, Murdoch,” one naturally inquired, “I suppose you saw nothing more of those rascals yesterday?” “Indeed, yes, sir,” Murdoch answered, with a grin. “They came back to the boat.” “What for?” “Well, sir, they said you had telled them they were to come aud get a bottle of champagne.” “And you gave It to them?” “Not me, sir! I chist telled them they were liars, and to go aweh.” “And then?” “Well, then, sir, they threepit and better threepit; and I said I would not give them a bottle of champagne, or a bottle of anything else; and I was thinking one o’ them was for coming into the boat, so I took up an oar.” Here Murdoch grinned again. “Oh, ay, sir, they nah I was ready.” “Ready for what? for his coming on board?” “Chist that, sir. If he had tried to come on board I would have splut his skull,” Raid Murdoch, coolly. “And they sah 1 was ready for them; and then there was a good dale of sweering, and they went aweh.” We left full instructions about our departure on the morrow, and made our way ashore again. Now, as those other people would not be back from the cathedral till near lunch time, we set forth on a long ramble to fill in the interval—wandering along the old-fashioned streets and admiring here and there an ancient gable or latticed window, visiting a church or two and generally finding ourselves being brought up sharply by the twisting and impassable harbor. It w'as during this aimless perambulation that Jack Duncombe made a confession. “I shall be glad when we get away from these towns into the quiet, pastoral districts again,” he said. “Living on board is ever so much better fun than putting up at a hotel. It used to be so delightful to have merely to choose out a meadow and a few willpw stumps and pass th 6 night where you pleased. I am looking forward to the Kennet and Avon, and 1 don’t mind telling you that 1 hope to enjoy this last part of the trip a great deal more than any that came before. The truth is, when I had to leave you at Warwick, I was in a little bit of a scrape.” “We guessed as much.” “And it threatened to become a rattier serious scrape. I suppose I may tell you the story, now that it’s alKovcr. You see, there is a young lady——” “Of course.” “Yes, there generally is, but this one is a ward in chancery," he remarks, calmly.” “What?” “A ward in chancery; that is where the trouble comes in. Her mother is a waspish old vinegar cruet; tremendously proud of her ancestry;, the family have been settled in Wilts since the time of Edward lll.—at least so they say—and, of course, she hates me like poison. 1 can fancy the old cat crying: ’lmagine Maud marrying the son of a man who hasn't even a coat-of-arma on his carriage I* And I suppose it was she who set the guardians against me." “And the guardians?" one says to him. “Oh, they declared that the young lady should remain perfectly free and unbiased until she came of age. Well, neither of ns seemed to see the fun of that arrangement; and then the guardians proceeded to extremities; yes, they did their little best, or shabbiest, as one mights say; they applied to the vice-chancellor, and he Issued an order directing that an communication should cease between her and me. It seemed hard—and it was hard.

for awMe. Then one nnturolly began to think of bow to mitigate these cruel circumstances.” “That means, I suppose, that yen communicated with her all the same?” “They pretended to think so,” observes the young man, very slowly, "You see, it is very difficult to define what communications are—very difficult; and yon can’t expect lawyers to have large and liberal views. In fact, the Court of Chancery has no sense of humor whatever. If they think you’re playing tricks, they oijly grow morose. Well, 1 tell you, when I left you at Warwick I was in a fix, and no mistake; I bad visions of a scene in court, the vice-chancellor whisking thunder and lightning all about my head, and finally sending me off to Holloway prison to purge my contempt. And the”* trouble I had to explain and apologize and give assurances by the yard—l assure you it required a great deal of tact to appear very penitential, and yet maintain that there was nothing for you to be penitential about.” “So you are engaged to be married, are you?” one says to him. “We’ve been engaged these two years,” he makes answer, “but it has been kept very quiet, owing to that absurd opposition. However, that will soon be over. Miss Wrexham—l may as well tell you her name—will be of age in about six months. And then,” he adds, in a hesitating kind of way, “I should like your wife to see her. And—and—we shall be going by Devizes, you know.” “Yes?”

“Well, the fact is, Miss Wrezham has plenty of pluck, you understand; and if your wife were so awfully good-natured as to send her a little bit of a note she’d dive over to some appointed place—she and her sister drive all about the country in a little pony chaise of their own; and then Murdoch could hold the pony, and the two girls pop into the saloon, and you’d give them a snack of lunch. 1 think it would be very jolly; they’re rattling nice girls; plenty of fun in them.” “And this is what you call obeying the vice-chancellor’s orders, is it?” one demands of him. “Oh, I should have nothing to do with It. If your wife asks two young ladies to come and look at a house boat, how can I help it? I’ll sit dumb all the time if you like.” “What kind of treatment do they give you in Holloway?” “Not at all bad, if you’re a first-class misdemeanant.” “Do they crop your hair?” “Certainly not!” “Books?” “Oh, yes.” "All right; we’ll consider that project when we get along into Wiltshire.” Just as we arrived at the entrance of the hotel we could see the other members of our party coming across the College Green, through the dappled sun and shade beneath the trees. Notwithstanding her partly veiled face, it was clear that Miss Peggy was laughing merrily; and Col. Cameron, who was apparently responsible for this breach of Sabbath decorum, had his eyes fixed on the ground; Queen Tita was looking elsewhere. “What a handsome girl that is!” said Jack Daneombe, involuntarily, as he, too, caught sight of the tall young lady. “Has that never struck you before?” “Oh, yes, of course; but somehow, in the open sunlight, when you see her at a distance, her figure tells so well.” “Now that one thinks of it, my young friend, for a person engaged to be married, you seemed to pay a good deal of attention to Miss Rosslyn at one time, and that not so long ago. One might have been excused for thinking that you had serious views.” “About Miss Rosslyn?” said he, with evident surprise. “No, surely not! I have cheek for most things, but not for that!” Well, this was a modest speech, at any rate.

“Of course, being so much with her on the boat,” he said, “there were plenty of chances of becoming very friendly; and, 1 dare say, being shut off from the rest of the world like that, a kind of mutual confidence sprang up; besides, when a girl is exceedingly pretty and very good:natured, and full of high spirits and enjoyment, you want to make yourself as agreeable as you can.” “Oh, you do, do you?" “Why, naturally.” “But without prejudice to the young lady under the guardianship of the vicechancellor?” “I am quite sure of this, that Miss Rosslyn has perfectly understood our relations all the way through,” he answered. “I am quite certain of tha’t. Why, if I had been quite free from any engagement, 1 could not have presumed, I would not have presumed, to regard her with any ambitious hopes of that kind.” “Really!” In truth the young man’s humility was quite touching. “Besides,” he said, in a lower voice, “it is as clear as noonday who absorbs all her interest now. A precious lucky fellow he is; that is my opinion.” (To be continued.)