Katy lost no time, but ran for Mrs. Barrett, whose indignation knew no bounds when she heard how the helpless party had been neglected.
“It’s a new person that stewardess h’is, ma’am,” she explained, “and most h’inefficient! I told the Captain when she come aboard that I didn’t ‘ave much opinion of her, and now he’ll see how it h’is. I’m h’ashamed that such a thing should ‘appen on the ‘Spartacus,’ ma’am,—I h’am, h’indeed. H’it never would ‘ave ben so h’under h’Eliza, ma’am,—she’s the one that went h’off and got herself married the trip before last, when this person came to take her place.”
All the time that she talked Mrs. Barrett was busy in making Mrs. Ware—for that, it seemed, was the sick lady’s name—more comfortable; and Katy was feeding Gretchen out of a big bowl full of bread and milk which one of the stewards had brought. The little uncomplaining thing was evidently half starved, but with the mouthfuls the pink began to steal back into her cheeks and lips, and the dark circles lessened under the blue eyes. By the time the bottom of the bowl was reached she could smile, but still she said not a word except a whispered Danke schon. Her mother explained that she had been born in Germany, and always till now had been cared for by a German nurse, so that she knew that language better than English.
Gretchen was a great amusement to Katy and Amy during the rest of the voyage. They kept her on deck with them a great deal, and she was perfectly content with them and very good, though always solemn and quiet. Pleasant people turned up among the passengers, as always happens on an ocean steamship, and others not so pleasant, perhaps, who were rather curious and interesting to watch.
Katy grew to feel as if she knew a great deal about her fellow travellers as time went on. There was the young girl going out to join her parents under the care of a severe governess, whom everybody on board rather pitied. There was the other girl on her way to study art, who was travelling quite alone, and seemed to have nobody to meet her or to go to except a fellow student of her own age, already in Paris, but who seemed quite unconscious of her lonely position and competent to grapple with anything or anybody. There was the queer old gentleman who had “crossed” eleven times before, and had advice and experience to spare for any one who would listen to them; and the other gentleman, not so old but even more queer, who had “frozen his stomach,” eight years before, by indulging, on a hot summer’s day, in sixteen successive ice-creams, alternated with ten glasses of equally cold soda-water, and who related this exciting experience in turn to everybody on board. There was the bad little boy, whose parents were powerless to oppose him, and who carried terror to the hearts of all beholders whenever he appeared; and the pretty widow who filled the role of reigning belle; and the other widow, not quite so pretty or so much a belle, who had a good deal to say, in a voice made discreetly low, about what a pity it was that dear Mrs. So-and-so should do this or that, and “Doesn’t it strike you as very unfortunate that she should not consider” the other thing? A great sea-going steamer is a little world in itself, and gives one a glimpse of all sorts and conditions of people and characters.
On the whole, there was no one on the “Spartacus” whom Katy liked so well as sedate little Gretchen except the dear old Captain, with whom she was a prime favorite. He gave Mrs. Ashe and herself the seats next to him at table, looked after their comfort in every possible way, and each night at dinner sent Katy one of the apple-dumplings made specially for him by the cook, who had gone many voyages with the Captain and knew his fancies. Katy did not care particularly for the dumpling, but she valued it as a mark of regard, and always ate it when she could.
Meanwhile, every morning brought a fresh surprise from that dear, painstaking Rose, who had evidently worked hard and thought harder in contriving pleasures for Katy’s first voyage at sea. Mrs. Barrett was enlisted in the plot, there could be no doubt of that, and enjoyed the joke as much as any one, as she presented herself each day with the invariable formula, “A letter for you, ma’am,” or “A bundle, Miss, come by the Parcels Delivery.” On the fourth morning it was a photograph of Baby Rose, in a little flat morocco case. The fifth brought a wonderful epistle, full of startling pieces of news, none of them true. On the sixth appeared a long narrow box containing a fountain pen. Then came Mr. Howells’s “A Foregone Conclusion,” which Katy had never seen; then a box of quinine pills; then a sachet for her trunk; then another burlesque poem; last of all, a cake of delicious violet soap, “to wash the sea-smell from her hands,” the label said. It grew to be one of the little excitements of ship life to watch for the arrival of these daily gifts; and “What did the mail bring for you this time, Miss Carr?” was a question frequently asked. Each arrival Katy thought must be the final one; but Rose’s forethought had gone so far even as to provide an extra parcel in case the voyage was a day longer than usual, and “Miss Carr’s mail” continued to come in till the very last morning.
Katy never forgot the thrill that went through her when, after so many days of sea, her eyes first caught sight of the dim line of the Irish coast. An exciting and interesting day followed as, after stopping at Queenstown to leave the mails, they sped northeastward between shores which grew more distinct and beautiful with every hour,—on one side Ireland, on the other the bold mountain lines of the Welsh coast. It was late afternoon when they entered the Mersey, and dusk had fallen before the Captain got out his glass to look for the white fluttering speck in his own window which meant so much to him. Long he studied before he made quite sure that it was there. At last he shut the glass with a satisfied air.
“It’s all right,” he said to Katy, who stood near, almost as much interested as he. “Lucy never forgets, bless her! Well, there’s another voyage over and done with, thank God, and my Mary is where she was. It’s a load taken from my mind.”
The moon had risen and was shining softly on the river as the crowded tender landed the passengers from the “Spartacus” at the Liverpool docks.
“We shall meet again in London or in Paris,” said one to another, and cards and addresses were exchanged. Then after a brief delay at the Custom House they separated, each to his own particular destination; and, as a general thing, none of them ever saw any of the others again. It is often thus with those who have been fellow voyagers at sea; and it is always a surprise and perplexity to inexperienced travellers that it can be so, and that those who have been so much to each other for ten days can melt away into space and disappear as though the brief intimacy had never existed.
“Four-wheeler or hansom, ma’am?” said a porter to Mrs. Ashe.
“Which, Katy?”
“Oh, let us have a hansom! I never saw one, and they look so nice in ‘Punch.’”
So a hansom cab was called, the two ladies got in, Amy cuddled down between them, the folding-doors were shut over their knees like a lap-robe, and away they drove up the solidly paved streets to the hotel where they were to pass the night. It was too late to see or do anything but enjoy the sense of being on firm land once more.
“How lovely it will be to sleep in a bed that doesn’t tip or roll from side to side!” said Mrs. Ashe.
“Yes, and that is wide enough and long enough and soft enough to be comfortable!” replied Katy. “I feel as if I could sleep for a fortnight to make up for the bad nights at sea.”
Everything seemed delightful to her,—the space for undressing, the great tub of fresh water which stood beside the English-looking washstand with its ample basin and ewer, the chintz-curtained bed, the coolness, the silence,—and she closed her eyes with the pleasant thought in her mind, “It is really England and we are really here!”
Chapter