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Winston Churchill >> The Celebrity, Volume 4
THE CELEBRITY
By Winston Churchill
VOLUME 4.
CHAPTER XV
I am convinced that Mr. Cooke possessed at least some of the qualities of
a great general. In certain campaigns of past centuries, and even of
this, it has been hero-worship that impelled the rank and file rather
than any high sympathy with the cause they were striving for. And so it
was with us that morning. Our commander was everywhere at once,
encouraging us to work, and holding over us in impressive language the
awful alternative of capture. For he had the art, in a high degree, of
inoculating his followers with the spirit which animated him; and
shortly, to my great surprise, I found myself working as though my life
depended on it. I certainly did not care very much whether the Celebrity
was captured or not, and yet, with the prospect of getting him over the
border, I had not thought of breakfast. Farrar had a natural inclination
for work of this sort, but even he was infused somewhat with the
contagious haste and enthusiasm which filled the air; and together we
folded the tents with astonishing despatch and rowed them out to the
Maria, Mr. Cooke having gone to his knees in the water to shove the boat
off.
"What are we doing this for?" said Farrar to me, as we hoisted the sail.
We both laughed.
"I have just been asking myself that question," I replied.
"You are a nice district attorney, Crocker," he said. "You have made a
most proper and equitable decision in giving your consent to Allen's
escape. Doesn't your conscience smart?"
"Not unbearably. I'll tell you what, Farrar," said I, "the truth is,
that this fellow never embezzled so much as a ten-cent piece. He isn't
guilty: he isn't the man."
"Isn't the man?" repeated Farrar.
"No," I answered; "it's a long tale, and no time to tell it now. But he
is really, as he claims to be, the author of all those detestable books
we have been hearing so much of."
"The deuce he is!" exclaimed Farrar, dropping the stopper he was tying.
"Did he write The Sybarites?"
"Yes, sir; he wrote The Sybarites, and all the rest of that trash."
"He's the fellow that maintains a man ought to marry a girl after he has
become engaged to her."
"Exactly," I said, smiling at his way of putting it.
"Preaches constancy to all men, but doesn't object to stealing."
I laughed.
"You're badly mixed," I explained. "I told you he never stole anything.
He was only ass enough to take the man's name who is the living image of
him. And the other man took the bonds."
"Oh, come now," said he, "tell me something improbable while you are
about it."
"It's true," I replied, repressing my mirth; "true as the tale of
Timothy. I knew him when he was a mere boy. But I don't give you that
as a proof, for he might have become all things to all men since. Ask
Miss Trevor; or Miss Thorn; she knows the other man, the bicycle man, and
has seen them both together."
"Where, in India? Was one standing on the ground looking at his double
go to heaven? Or was it at one of those drawing-room shows where a
medium holds conversation with your soul, while your body sleeps on the
lounge? By George, Crocker, I thought you were a sensible man."
No wonder I got angry. But I might have come at some proper estimation
of Farrar's incredulity by that time.
"I suppose you wouldn't take a lady's word," I growled.
"Not for that," he said, busy again with the sail stops; "nor St.
Chrysostom's, were he to come here and vouch for it. It is too damned
improbable."
"Stranger things than that have happened," I retorted, fuming.
"Not to any of us," he said. Presently he added, chuckling: "He'd better
not get into the clutches of that man Drew."
"What do you mean?" I demanded. Farrar was exasperating at times.
"Drew will wind those handcuffs on him like tourniquets," he laughed.
There seemed to be something behind this remark, but before I could
inquire into it we were interrupted by Mr. Cooke, who was standing on
the beach, swearing and gesticulating for the boat.
"I trust," said Farrar, as we rowed ashore, "that this blind excitement
will continue, and that we shall have the extreme pleasure of setting
down our friend in Her Majesty's dominions with a yachting-suit and
a ham sandwich."
We sat down to a hasty breakfast, in the middle of which the Celebrity
arrived. His appearance was unexceptionable, but his heavy jaw was set
in a manner which should have warned Mr. Cooke not to trifle with him.
"Sit down, old man, and take a bite before we start for Canada," said my
client.
The Celebrity walked up to him.
"Mr. Cooke," he began in a menacing tone, "it is high time this nonsense
was ended. I am tired of being made a buffoon of for your party. For
your gratification I have spent a sleepless night in those cold, damp
woods; and I warn you that practical joking can be carried too far. I
will not go to Canada, and I insist that you sail me back to Asquith."
Mr. Cooke winked significantly in our direction and tapped his head.
"I don't wonder you're a little upset, old man," he said, humoringly
patting him; "but sit down for a bite of something, and you'll see things
differently."
"I've had my breakfast," he said, taking out a cigarette.
Then Mr. Trevor got up.
"He demands, sir, to be delivered over to the authorities," said he, "and
you have no right to refuse him. I protest strongly."
"And you can protest all you damn please," retorted my client; "this
isn't the Ohio State Senate. Do you know where I would put you, Mr.
Trevor? Do you know where you ought to be? In a hencoop, sir, if I had
one here. In a hen-coop. What would you do if a man who had gone a
little out of his mind asked you for a gun to shoot himself with? Give
it him, I suppose. But I put Mr. Allen ashore in Canada, with the funds
to get off with, and then my duty's done."
This speech, as Mr. Cooke had no doubt confidently hoped, threw the
senator into a frenzy of wrath.
"The day will come, sir," he shouted, shaking his fist at my client, "the
day will come when you will rue this bitterly."
"Don't get off any of your oratorical frills on me," replied Mr. Cooke,
contemptuously; "you ought to be tied and muzzled."
Mr. Trevor was white with anger.
"I, for one, will not go to Canada," he cried.
"You'll stay here and starve, then," said Mr. Cooke; "damned little I
care."
Mr. Trevor turned to Farrar, who was biting his lip.
"Mr. Farrar, I know you to be a rising young man of sound principles, and
Mr. Crocker likewise. You are the only ones who can sail. Have you
reflected that you are about to ruin your careers?"
"We are prepared to take the chances, I think," said Farrar.
Mr. Cooke looked us over, proudly and gratefully, as much as to say that
while he lived we should not lack the necessities of life.
At nine we embarked, the Celebrity and Mr. Trevor for the same reason
that the animals took to the ark,--because they had to. There was a
spanking breeze in the west-northwest, and a clear sky, a day of days for
a sail. Mr. Cooke produced a map, which Farrar and I consulted, and
without much trouble we hit upon a quiet place to land on the Canadian
side. Our course was north-northwest, and therefore the wind enabled us
to hold it without much trouble. Bear Island is situated some eighteen
miles from shore, and about equidistant between Asquith and Far Harbor,
which latter we had to pass on our way northward.
Although a brisk sea was on, the wind had been steady from that quarter
all night, and the motion was uniform. The Maria was an excellent
sea-boat. There was no indication, therefore, of the return of that
malady which had been so prevalent on the passage to Bear Island. Mr.
Cooke had never felt better, and looked every inch a sea-captain in his
natty yachting-suit. He had acquired a tan on the island; and, as is
eminently proper on a boat, he affected nautical manners and nautical
ways. But his vernacular savored so hopelessly of the track and stall
that he had been able to acquire no mastery over the art of marine
invective. And he possessed not so much as one maritime oath. As soon
as we had swung clear of the cove he made for the weather stays, where he
assumed a posture not unlike that in the famous picture of Farragut
ascending Mobile Bay. His leather case was swung over his shoulder, and
with his glasses he swept the lake in search of the Scimitar and other
vessels of a like unamiable character.
Although my client could have told you, offhand, jackstraw's last mile in
a bicycle sulky, his notion of the Scimitar's speed was as vague as his
knowledge of seamanship. And when I informed him that in all probability
she had already passed the light on Far Harbor reef, some nine miles this
side of the Far Harbor police station, he went into an inordinate state
of excitement. Mr. Cooke was, indeed, that day the embodiment of an
unselfish if misdirected zeal. He was following the dictates of both
heart and conscience in his endeavor to rescue his guest from the law;
and true zeal is invariably contagious. What but such could have
commanded the unremitting labors of that morning? Farrar himself had
done three men's work before breakfast, and it was, in great part, owing
to him that we were now leaving the island behind us. He was sailing the
Maria that day as she will never be sailed again: her lee gunwale awash,
and a wake like a surveyor's line behind her. More than once I called to
mind his facetious observation about Mr. Drew, and wondered if he knew
more than he had said about the detective.
Once in the open, the Maria showed but small consideration for her
passengers, for she went through the seas rather than over them. And Mr.
Cooke, manfully keeping his station on the weather bow, likewise went
through the seas. No argument could induce him to leave the post he had
thus heroically chosen, which was one of honor rather than utility, for
the lake was as vacant of sails as the day that Father Marquette (or some
one else) first beheld it. Under such circumstances ease must be
considered as only a relative term; and the accommodations of the Maria
afforded but two comfortable spots,--the cabin, and the lea aft of the
cabin bulkhead. This being the case, the somewhat peculiar internal
relations of the party decided its grouping.
I know of no worse place than a small yacht, or than a large one for that
matter, for uncongenial people. The Four betook themselves to the cabin,
which was fortunately large, and made life bearable with a game of cards;
while Mrs. Cooke, whose adaptability and sense I had come greatly to,
admire, contented herself with a corner and a book. The ungrateful cause
of the expedition himself occupied another corner. I caught sight of him
through the cabin skylight, and the silver pencil he was holding over his
note-book showed unmistakable marks of teeth.
Outside, Mr. Trevor, his face wearing an immutable expression of defiance
for the wickedness surrounding him, had placed his daughter for
safe-keeping between himself and the only other reliable character on
board,--the refrigerator. But Miss Thorn appeared in a blue mackintosh
and a pair of heavy yachting-boots, courting rather than avoiding a
drenching. Even a mackintosh is becoming to some women. All morning she
sat behind Mr. Cooke, on the rise of the cabin, her back against the mast
and her hair flying in the wind, and I, for one, was not sorry the
Celebrity had given us this excuse for a sail.
CHAPTER XVI
About half-past eleven Mr. Cooke's vigilance was rewarded by a glimpse
of the lighthouse on Far Harbor reef, and almost simultaneously he picked
up, to the westward, the ragged outline of the house-tops and spires of
the town itself. But as we neared the reef the harbor appeared as quiet
as a Sunday morning: a few Mackinaws were sailing hither and thither, and
the Far Harbor and Beaverton boat was coming out. My client, in view
of the peaceful aspect affairs had assumed, presently consented to
relinquish his post, and handed the glasses over to me with an injunction
to be watchful.
I promised. And Mr. Cooke, feeling his way aft with more discretion than
grace, finally descended into the cabin, where he was noisily received.
And I was left with Miss Thorn. While my client had been there in front
of us, his lively conversation and naive if profane remarks kept us in
continual laughter. When with him it was utterly impossible to see any
other than the ludicrous side of this madcap adventure, albeit he himself
was so keenly in earnest as to its performance. It was with misgiving
that I saw him disappear into the hatchway, and my impulse was to follow
him. Our spirits, like those in a thermometer, are never stationary:
mine were continually being sent up or down. The night before, when I
had sat with Miss Thorn beside the fire, they went up; this morning her
anxious solicitude for the Celebrity had sent them down again. She both
puzzled and vexed me. I could not desert my post as lookout, and I
remained in somewhat awkward suspense as to what she was going to say,
gazing at distant objects through the glasses. Her remark, when it came,
took me by surprise.
"I am afraid," she said seriously, "that Uncle Fenelon's principles are
not all that they should be. His morality is something like his tobacco,
which doesn't injure him particularly, but is dangerous to others."
I was more than willing to meet her on the neutral ground of Uncle
Fenelon.
"Do you think his principles contagious?" I asked.
"They have not met with the opposition they deserve," she replied.
"Uncle Fenelon's ideas of life are not those of other men,--yours, for
instance. And his affairs, mental and material, are, happily for him,
such that he can generally carry out his notions with small
inconvenience. He is no doubt convinced that he is acting generously in
attempting to rescue the Celebrity from a term in prison; what he does
not realize is that he is acting ungenerously to other guests who have
infinitely more at stake."
"But our friend from Ohio has done his best to impress this upon him,"
I replied, failing to perceive her drift; "and if his words are wasted,
surely the thing is hopeless."
"I am not joking," said she. "I was not thinking of Mr. Trevor, but of
you. I like you, Mr. Crocker. You may not believe it, but I do."
For the life of me I could think of no fitting reply to this declaration.
Why was that abominable word "like" ever put into the English language?
"Yes, I like you," she continued meditatively, "in the face of the fact
that you persist in disliking me."
"Nothing of the kind."
"Oh, I know. You mustn't think me so stupid as all that. It is a
mortifying truth that I like you, and that you have no use for me."
I have never known how to take a jest from a woman. I suppose I should
have laughed this off. Instead, I made a fool of myself.
"I shall be as frank with you," I said, "and declare that I like you,
though I should be much happier if I didn't."
She blushed at this, if I am not mistaken. Perhaps it was unlooked for.
"At any rate," she went on, "I should deem it my duty to warn you of the
consequences of this joke of yours. They may not be all that you have
anticipated. The consequences for you, I mean, which you do not seem to
have taken into account."
"Consequences for me!" I exclaimed.
"I fear that you will think what I am going to say uncalled for, and that
I am meddling with something that does not concern me. But it seems to
me that you are undervaluing the thing you have worked so hard to attain.
They say that you have ability, that you have acquired a practice and a
position which at your age give the highest promise for the future. That
you are to be counsel for the railroad. In short, that you are the
coming man in this section of the state. I have found this out," said
she, cutting short my objections, "in spite of the short time I have been
here."
"Nonsense!" I said, reddening in my turn.
"Suppose that the Celebrity is captured," she continued, thrusting her
hands into the pockets of her mackintosh. "It appears that he is
shadowed, and it is not unreasonable to expect that we shall be chased
before the day is over. Then we shall be caught red-handed in an attempt
to get a criminal over the border. Please wait until I have finished,"
she said, holding up her hand at an interruption I was about to make.
"You and I know he is not a criminal; but he might as well be as far as
you are concerned. As district attorney you are doubtless known to the
local authorities. If the Celebrity is arrested after a long pursuit, it
will avail you nothing to affirm that you knew all along he was the noted
writer. You will pardon me if I say that they will not believe you then.
He will be taken East for identification. And if I know anything about
politics, and especially the state of affairs in local politics with
which you are concerned, the incident and the interval following it will
be fatal to your chances with the railroad,--to your chances in general.
You perceive, Mr. Crocker, how impossible it is to play with fire without
being burned."
I did perceive. At the time the amazing thoroughness with which she had
gone into the subject of my own unimportant affairs, the astuteness and
knowledge of the world she had shown, and the clearness with which she
had put the situation, did not strike me. Nothing struck me but the
alarming sense of my own stupidity, which was as keen as I have ever felt
it. What man in a public position, however humble, has not political
enemies? The image of O'Meara was wafted suddenly before me,
disagreeably near, and his face wore the smile of victory. All of Mr.
Cooke's money could not save me. My spirits sank as the immediate future
unfolded itself, and I even read the article in O'Meara's organ, the
Northern Lights, which was to be instrumental in divesting me of my
public trust and fair fame generally. Yes, if the Celebrity was caught
on the other side of Far Harbor, all would be up with John Crocker! But
it would never do to let Miss Thorn discover my discomfiture.
"There is something in what you say," I replied, with what bravado I
could muster.
"A little, I think," she returned, smiling; "now, what I wish you to do
is to make Uncle Fenelon put into Far Harbor. If he refuses, you can go
in in spite of him, since you and Mr. Farrar are the only ones who can
sail. You have the situation in your own hands."
There was certainly wisdom in this, also. But the die was cast now, and
pride alone was sufficient to hold me to the course I had rashly begun
upon. Pride! What an awkward thing it is, and more difficult for most
of us to swallow than a sponge.
"I thank you for this interest in my welfare, Miss Thorn," I began.
"No fine speeches, please, sir," she cut in, "but do as I advise."
"I fear I cannot."
"Why do you say that? The thing is simplicity itself."
"I should lose my self-respect as a practical joker. And besides,"
I said maliciously, "I started out to have some fun with the Celebrity,
and I want to have it."
"Well," she replied, rather coolly, "of course you can do as you choose."
We were passing within a hundred yards of the lighthouse, set cheerlessly
on the bald and sandy tip of the point. An icy silence sat between us,
and such a silence is invariably insinuating. This one suggested a
horrible thought. What if Miss Thorn had warned me in order to save the
Celebrity from humiliation? I thrust it aside, but it returned again and
grinned. Had she not practised insincerity before? And any one with
half an eye could see that she was in love with the Celebrity; even the
Fraction had remarked it. What more natural than, with her cleverness,
she had hit upon this means of terminating the author's troubles by
working upon my fears?
Human weakness often proves too much for those of us who have the very
best intentions. Up to now the refrigerator and Mr. Trevor had kept the
strictest and most jealous of vigils over Irene. But at length the
senator succumbed to the drowsiness which never failed to attack him at
this hour, and he forgot the disrepute of his surroundings in a
respectable sleep. Whereupon his daughter joined us on the forecastle.
"I knew that would happen to papa if I only waited long enough," she
said. "Oh, he thinks you're dreadful, Mr. Crocker. He says that
nowadays young men haven't any principle. I mustn't be seen talking to
you."
"I have been trying to convince Mr. Crocker that his stand in the matter
is not only immoral, but suicidal," said Miss Thorn. "Perhaps," she
added meaningly, "he will listen to you."
"I don't understand," answered Miss Trevor.
"Miss Thorn has been good enough to point out," I explained, "that the
political machine in this section, which has the honor to detest me, will
seize upon the pretext of the Celebrity's capture to ruin me. They will
take the will for the deed."
"Of course they will do just that," cried Miss Trevor. "How bright of
you to think of it, Marian!"
Miss Thorn stood up.
"I leave you to persuade him," said she; "I have no doubt you will be
able to do it."
With that she left us, quite suddenly. Abruptly, I thought. And her
manner seemed to impress Miss Trevor.
"I wonder what is the matter with Marian," said she, and leaned over the
skylight. "Why, she has gone down to talk with the Celebrity."
"Isn't that rather natural?" I asked with asperity.
She turned to me with an amused expression.
"Her conduct seems to worry you vastly, Mr. Crocker. I noticed that you
were quite upset this morning in the cave. Why was it?"
"You must have imagined it," I said stiffly.
"I should like to know," she said, with the air of one trying to solve a
knotty problem, "I should like to know how many men are as blind as you."
"You are quite beyond me, Miss Trevor," I answered; "may I request you to
put that remark in other words?"
"I protest that you are a most unsatisfactory person," she went on, not
heeding my annoyance. "Most abnormally modest people are. If I were to
stick you with this hat-pin, for instance, you would accept the matter as
a positive insult."
"I certainly should," I said, laughing; "and, besides, it would be
painful."
"There you are," said she, exultingly; "I knew it. But I flatter myself
there are men who would go into an ecstasy of delight if I ran a hat-pin
into them. I am merely taking this as an illustration of my point."
"It is a very fine point," said I. "But some people take pleasure in odd
things. I can easily conceive of a man gallant enough to suffer the
agony for the sake of pleasing a pretty girl."
"I told you so," she pouted; "you have missed it entirely. You are
hopelessly blind on that side, and numb. Perhaps you didn't know that
you have had a hat-pin sticking in you for some time."
I began feeling myself, nervously.
"For more than a month," she cried, "and to think that you have never
felt it." My action was too much for her gravity, and she fell back
against the skylight in a fit of merriment, which threatened to wake her
father. And I hoped it would.
"It pleases you to speak in parables this morning," I said.
"Mr. Crocker," she began again, when she had regained her speech, "shall
I tell you of a great misfortune which might happen to a girl?"
"I should be pleased to hear it," I replied courteously.
"That misfortune, then, would be to fall in love with you."
"Happily that is not within the limits of probability," I answered,
beginning to be a little amused. "But why?"
"Lightning often strikes where it is least expected," she replied archly.
"Listen. If a young woman were unlucky enough to lose her heart to you,
she might do everything but tell you, and you would never know it. I
scarcely believe you would know it if she did tell you."
I must have jumped unconsciously.
"Oh, you needn't think I am in love with you."
"Not for a minute," I made haste to say.
She pointed towards the timber-covered hills beyond the shore.
"Do you see that stream which comes foaming down the notch into the lake
in front of us?" she asked. "Let us suppose that you lived in a cabin
beside that brook; and that once in a while, when you went out to draw
your water, you saw a nugget of--gold washing along with the pebbles on
the bed. How many days do you think you would be in coming to the
conclusion that there was a pocket of gold somewhere above you, and in
starting in search of it?"
"Not long, surely."
"Ah, you are not lacking in perception there. But if I were to tell you
that I knew of the existence of such a mine, from various proofs I have
had, and that the mine was in the possession of a certain person who was
quite willing to share it with you on application, you would not believe
me."
"Probably not."
"Well," said Miss Trevor, with a nod of finality, "I was actually about
to make such a disclosure. But I see it would be useless."
I confess she aroused my curiosity. No coaxing, however, would induce
her to interpret.
"No," she insisted strangely, "if you cannot put two and two together, I
fear I cannot help you. And no one I ever heard of has come to any good
by meddling."