It had been really entertaining in John to tell Kitty that she ought to see the inside of Kings Port;that was like his engaging impishness with Juno.If by any possible contrivance (and none was possible)Kitty and her Replacers could have met the inside of Kings Port,Kitty would have added one more "quaint"impression to her stock,and gone away in total ignorance of the quality of the impression she had made--and Bohm would probably have again remarked,"Worse than Sunday."No;the St.Michaels and the Replacers would never meet in this world,and I see no reason that they should in the next.John's light and pleasing skirmish with Kitty gave me the glimpse of his capacities which I had lacked hitherto.
John evidently "knew his way about,"as they say;and I was diverted to think how Miss Josephine St.Michael would have nodded over his adequacy and shaken her head at his squandering it on such a companion.But it was no squandering;the boy's heavy spirit was making a gallant "bluff"at playing up with the lively party he had no choice but to join,and this one saw the moment he was not called upon to play up.
The peaceful loveliness that floated from earth and water around me triumphed over the jangling hilarity of the cabin,and I dozed away,aware that they were now all thumping furiously in chorus,while Gazza sang something that went,"Oh,she's my leetle preety poosee pet."When Iroused,it was Kitty's voice at the piano,but no change in the quality of the song or the thumping;and Hortense was stepping on deck.She had a cigarette,her beauty flashed with devilment,and John followed her.
"They are going to have an explanation,"I thought,as I saw his face.If that were so,then Kitty had blundered in her strategy and hurt Charley's cause;for after the two came Gazza,as obviously "sent"as any emissary ever looked:Kitty took care of the singing,while Gazza intercepted any tete-a-tete.I rose and made a fourth with them,and even as I was drawing near,the devilment in Hortense's face sank inward beneath cold displeasure.
I had never been a welcome person to Hortense,and she made as little effort to conceal this as usual.Her indifferent eyes glanced at me with drowsy insolence,and she made her beautiful,low voice as remote and inattentive as her skilful social equipment could render it.
"It is so hot in the cabin."
This was all she had for me.Then she looked at Gazza with returning animation.
"Oh,la la!"said Gazza."If it is hot in the cabin!"And he flirted his handkerchief back and forth.
"I think I had the best of it,"I remarked."All the melody and none of the temperature."Hortense saw no need of noticing me further "The singer has the worst of it,"said Gazza.
"But since you all sang!"I laughed.
"Miss Rieppe,she is cool,"continued Gazza."And she danced.It is not fair."John contributed nothing.He was by no means playing up now.He was looking away at the shore.
Gazza hummed a little fragment."But after lunch I will sing you good music.""So long as it keeps us cool,"I suggested.
"Ah,no!It will not be cool music!"cried Gazza--"for those who understand.""Are those boys bathing?"Hortense now inquired.
We watched the distant figures,and presently they flashed into the water.
"Oh,me!"sighed Gazza."If I were a boy!"
Hortense looked at him."You would be afraid."The devilment had come out again,suddenly and brilliantly:
"I never have been afraid!"declared Gazza.
"You would not jump in after me,"said Hortense,taking his measure more and more provokingly.
Gazza laid his hand on his heart."Where you go,I will go!"Hortense looked at him,and laughed very slightly and lightly.
"I swear it!I swear!"protested Gazza.
John's eyes were now fixed upon Hortense.
"Would you go?"she asked him "Decidedly not!"he returned.I don't know whether he was angry or anxious.
"Oh,yes,you would!"said Hortense;and she jumped into the water,cigarette and all.
"Get a boat,quick,"said John to me;and with his coat flung off he was in the river,whose current Hortense could scarce have reckoned with;for they were both already astern as I ran out on the port boat boom.
Gazza was dancing and shrieking,"Man overboard!"which,indeed,was the correct expression,only it did not apply to himself.Gazza was a very sensible person.I had,as I dropped into the nearest boat,a brisk sight of the sailing-master,springing like a jack-in-the-box on the deserted deck,with a roar of "Where's that haymaker?"His reference was to the anchor watch.The temptation to procure good matches to light his pipe had ended (I learned later)by proving too much for this responsible sailor-man,and he had unfortunately chosen for going below just the unexpected moment when it had entered the daring head of Hortense to perform this extravagance.Of course,before I had pulled many strokes,the deck of the Hermana was alive with many manifestations of life-saving and they had most likely been in time.But I am not perfectly sure of this;the current was strong,and a surprising distance seemed to broaden between me and the Hermana before another boat came into sight around her stern.By then,or just after that (for I cannot clearly remember the details of these few anxious minutes),I had caught up with John,whose face,and total silence,as he gripped the stern of the boat with one hand and held Hortense with the other,plainly betrayed it was high time somebody came.A man can swim (especially in salt water)with his shoes on,and his clothes add nothing of embarrassment,if his arms are free;but a woman's clothes do not help either his buoyancy or the freedom of his movement.John now lifted Hortense's two hands,which took a good hold of the boat.From between her lips the dishevelled cigarette,bitten through and limp,fell into the water.The boat felt the weight of the two hands to it.
"Take care,"I warned John.
Hortense opened her eyes and looked at me;she knew that I meant her.
